Star-Embracing Swordmaster (Full)

The alley lights reflected clearly on the river's water, tinted red by the sunset.

Until recently, that shadowy corner of the city had seemed peaceful, but now it was alive with unexpected noise and vibrant activity.

"So, you've been at odds with Barbosa all this time?"

"More like a tense balance, rather than an outright conflict."

With Vlad and Harven's arrival, 

The Smile of a Rose was busier than ever, though a tense atmosphere hung over the lobby on the first floor.

People dressed elegantly occupied the tables; their clean and orderly appearance clashed with the usual feel of the place.

Watching those patrons holding empty glasses and casting furtive glances upstairs, Zemina pursed her lips in displeasure.

"Good thing you managed to reach a truce. Otherwise, we would've been stuck here until winter."

"Yeah, winter at sea is brutally cold."

While Harven took a sip, Vlad watched him out of the corner of his eye. His face was now sun-tanned, and he wore a sailor's hat crusted with sea salt—a completely different image from the refined man once buried in piles of paperwork in closed rooms.

"Hey, here you go."

"Oh! Thanks, Ned."

Just then, their food arrived, and Harven reached for a coin in his pocket, but Ned quickly left without accepting the tip—a rare move for him.

"What's gotten into him? He's always looking for a tip."

"He must have his reasons."

Otar eyed his brother suspiciously at the unexpected change, but Vlad merely shrugged. Someday they'd have that conversation, but tonight, he preferred not to hear complaints.

"So, have you finished your work? Are you going back to your old post?"

"…Yes."

Harven and his sailors had initially been a modest merchant company navigating the northern seas. If not for the war, they would have solidified their influence by leveraging Vlad's connections.

"Perfect timing. The Ravnoma family just asked me to find a company to open a trade route."

Now that the war had ended with the Golden Duke Barbosa's surrender, it was time for everyone to return to their previous roles. Vlad, excited by the idea of seeing his friends return, took a bite of the sausage he was holding.

"If it's in Trinova, it's close to Nidavellir. Maybe they could even share a port."

"Exactly."

"Then, with trade routes open, they'll start bringing in steady income—not small amounts, either, but sizable ones."

Although Vlad had risen to the position of Sword Master out of honor, it didn't mean he didn't need money. Unlike Kihano, the Sword Master of the previous generation, Vlad didn't have a stable foundation.

While he wished to remain free, unbound to any one place, he had decided to build his fortune through a merchant company.

"How about we go big this time? Buy a new ship, hire more people."

Talking about money might sound self-serving, but Vlad's enthusiasm was unmistakable.

"Go big?"

"We could form a fleet like Barbosa's. Admiral sounds better than captain, don't you think?"

Harven smiled, recalling the dreams they had shared in the alleyway as children, talking about their futures.

"With the money we earn, we could help the orphanage kids or, better yet, recruit kids and train them to become sailors."

Back then, alone and with no one to look after them, the only way to comfort themselves was by imagining a shared future.

Those tales of a better tomorrow gave them the strength to endure the present, with all its hardship and hunger.

"Vlad…"

"Yes?"

"I have something to tell you."

But no matter how much they shared as brothers, sooner or later, each had to find his own path. Because children always grow up into adults.

"I received a request."

"A request?"

Children only dream of the stars, but adults chase after them.

Even if their paths were different, Vlad and Harven had walked together in the past. But now each would follow the road they had chosen.

"Count Arnstein asked me to open an Arctic route."

"An Arctic route?"

"Yes, a route through the Arctic, beyond the northern border."

The blue-eyed boy looked at the starry sky, while the limping boy dreamed of crossing the narrow river and venturing into the open sea.

The young men who once shared those dreams now looked at each other as adults.

"It seems that the higher-ups want an alternative to the southern route dominated by Barbosa."

Vlad's voice was calm, perhaps out of consideration for the eager Harven.

"It's as if he wouldn't go if I held him back."

"That request… I'd like to take it on. What do you think?"

Yet, Vlad could recognize the excitement in Harven's eyes, hidden beneath his calm exterior.

Even as he casually swirled his drink, Harven's brown eyes already sparkled with a determination he couldn't hide.

"I see."

Harven, who was born by the river, wanted to venture out to the sea.

To the vast ocean that didn't care about my limping steps.

Because this was a friend who had finally said he wanted to find his own way, Vlad could only smile.

***

"Ugh… what a headache."

Now it was time for even the lively alleyways to close their eyes.

After sharing endless rounds of liquor, Vlad climbed the stairs to the fourth floor, his head throbbing.

"…Maybe I should have drunk more. Being half-drunk is worse."

Harven, Otar, and later Zemina, who had joined them, lay slumped over the table.

The blame lay with Harven, who, after discovering "the authentic way to enjoy Captain Q," had mixed all kinds of drinks with that horrid liquor. [1]

"Huh?"

As he climbed the stairs, Vlad noticed a faint light flickering in the hallway on the fourth floor, reserved exclusively for guests. It was coming from Nibelun's room.

"What are you doing up?"

"Huh? Haven't you gone to sleep yet?"

Normally, Vlad wouldn't have gone in, but curiosity, fueled by the alcohol, led him to approach unsteadily. Nibelun's room was a complete mess—a chaos that anyone would consider extreme.

"…What's all this?"

The room was filled with knick-knacks from who knows where. Among them were strange gadgets and carpets Vlad vaguely recognized.

"I'm organizing my pack. I haven't done it in five years."

"Your pack?"

"Yes, the one I always carry with me."

Vlad's gaze landed on a backpack in the corner—the same magical backpack from which Nibelun always seemed to pull out exactly what he needed in moments of danger.

Now, the enormous bag was surprisingly empty.

"I've always wondered—how much can you actually fit in that thing?"

"In my pack? Well…"

Nibelun scratched his head as he replied, surrounded by his belongings.

"There's no fixed limit. I can store as much as I can remember."

"How much can you remember?"

"If I forget something I put in, the pack simply swallows it up."

"Oh…"

Nibelun mentioned that, since he wasn't especially good at remembering, he couldn't store as much as previous users.

However, the objects that filled the room and even spilled into the hallway were enough that anyone could easily forget what was in there.

"Why are you organizing it in the middle of the night?"

"Because I'm leaving with Harven."

"To where?"

Beastfolk of this era had plenty of places to go, even if nowhere truly welcomed them.

You could say that Nibelun, also a mage in search of mysteries, was a natural-born wanderer.

"I'm going with Harven. It looks like he's going to explore an Arctic route."

A beastfolk mage who could travel anywhere with just a pack.

But this time, it wasn't a journey without aim—it was an expedition with a clear purpose.

"…And why do you want to explore the Arctic route?"

"It's a place no one's been before."

Nibelun's eyes curved into a wide smile, and Vlad couldn't help feeling somewhat bitter over that assured resolve.

"Besides, they say the climate's warming up lately. Good for lemon cultivation."

When dragons ruled, there had been a land of beastfolk that sank.

"Maybe now, with the ice melting, there could be habitable land."

"…"

"If we found a place like that, the scattered tribes could gather in one place."

The elves and dwarves now had their own territories, but only the beastfolk remained scattered, unable to find land to call their own.

Tribes like the Ruga, who found a place to settle, could be considered truly fortunate.

"It would be wonderful if the children of our tribe had a place where they could run and play freely, like the ones here."

Nibelun was determined to leave, both for his life's purpose as a mage who pursued the mystical and for the well-being of his people.

His words were logical, but to Vlad, somewhat drunk, there was only a deep feeling of sorrow.

"Yes, you should go, then."

Vlad had returned hoping to be welcomed by everyone, but now, those children who had grown up into adults were setting off on their own paths.

As with all the friendships he had lost over the years, each of his friends was also leaving.

"I suppose I should keep drinking."

"You're going to drink more?"

"I'm in the mood for it today."

Vlad turned and began descending the stairs, leaving Nibelun as he packed his belongings.

He passed through the darkened hallway, past the table where his friends lay sprawled out.

With a bottle of liquor in hand, Vlad stepped out into the streets of early morning, still cloaked in shadows.

***

"...Who would've put a fence here?"

Vlad pushed through a neatly kept hedge and opened the gate in a fence.

"This does look better now."

In that chaotic neighborhood of overlapping buildings, the only spot with a bit of green was the cemetery.

Vlad walked among the graves, better tended than before, and stopped in front of one that looked familiar.

"How have you been, Kihano?"

The cemetery was filled with simple headstones, with colorful flowers growing here and there, as if embracing the graves of the dead.

"I brought a drink for you, too."

Smiling at the flowers, Vlad poured some liquor onto the surrounding graves.

Before him lay an unknown old blacksmith, and behind him, a nameless noble knight.

Between them, Vlad sat down and raised the bottle, as if it were now his turn to take a drink.

"Everyone's leaving. It hasn't even been that long since I saw them again."

Although he disliked showing weakness, here in this quiet place, Vlad allowed himself to express his true feelings.

"If they all go, who will stay by my side?"

Kihano, Joseph, and so many others he had crossed paths with.

Now, he had more broken bonds than those still intact, and feeling the hollow ache in his chest, Vlad lifted the bottle again.

"But I've given them proper farewells. Isn't that something good?"

He understood that he was able to say goodbye to his friends because, back then, others had also shown him how to do it.

He knew that if those who now lay here resting hadn't pushed him forward, he wouldn't be who he was.

"...Well, it seems everyone here is silent."

No matter how much he talked, the nameless graves couldn't answer him.

Already in their eternal silence, they had no more words to offer Vlad.

"…"

Only the sunrise, slowly peeking over the horizon, touched Vlad's back with its warmth.

Enjoying that gentle light, Vlad decided to stay a little longer than he'd planned.

It felt as if Kihano, from behind, were giving him one final parting touch.

T/N

1: I forgot to say it but "Captain Q" refers to the author's name which is Q10.

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