The 9th Class Swordmaster: Blade of Truth chapter-164-tinuviel-1

At the Sun Hall of the Imperial Palace...

“So, how is Kromen doing?” Titan Shutean asked quietly.

“He was up for several nights... He finally managed to fall asleep last night. The priests from the Church have placed blessings to help him rest, but...”

The rasp of the emperor’s breathing filled the Sun Hall, and the kneeling vassal swallowed nervously, careful not to make a sound. The elderly man with graying hair looked haggard, as if he hadn’t slept properly.

“He stayed awake for several nights... You think that’s what I want to hear?”

“I... I am sorry, Your Majesty!”

With that, the vassal bowed deeply, pressing his forehead against the floor.

“Why is his condition worsening?! What are the court healers doing?!” the empress, standing beside the emperor, demanded sharply.

Her skin was remarkably youthful, her overall appearance so radiant that one wouldn’t say she was in her forties. Many suspected she went to great lengths, possibly even dabbling in black magic, to maintain her beauty.

However, publicly accusing the royal family of such things was an outrageous crime. People were divided—some admired the empress’ ever-increasing beauty, while others were scared by her relentless battle against time.

“I... I apologize” the vassal said. His voice was trembling, unable to meet the empress’ eyes.

“Enough. I’m aware of how capable you are.”

The man kneeling before the emperor was the chief court healer, who had cared for the health of the emperor and his princes for many years. Even Titan Shutean, who was known for his discerning judgment, trusted this old man.

“How long has it been since the princes returned from the south?”

The emperor turned his head.

“Prince Kromen arrived at the imperial palace from Marquis Vestal’s property with Prince Olivurn a little over a week ago. Prince Luon has yet to return,” a deep, resonant voice answered from behind the throne. It was rough yet clear, indicating the speaker’s pure and powerful mana.

A light breeze rustled the cape draped over his shoulders.

“Your Majesty.”

Surprisingly, it was Kuwell MacGovern, the captain of the Blue Knights, who was supposed to be at the border.

After the deal with Karyl, the emperor had sent the princes into the south, breaking his promise to not attack the Three Kingdoms of Istria. That resulted in a confrontation between Prince Luon and the Twin Armor, rendering the contract with Karyl null and void.

However, something unforeseen happened—Luon was defeated by the forces of the Twin Amor.

“That guy... Staying in Berardo while his siblings have returned. Tsk...”

After receiving the news of Luon’s defeat, the emperor had summoned Kuwell MacGovern back to the palace. The official reason had been that Belin Vallention, the elderly head of the Seven Knights of the empire, was too frail to manage the palace.

Consequently, Kuwell MacGovern had been appointed as his successor.

“...”

But Kuwell, aware of the emperor’s previous dealings with Karyl, wasn’t buying that lousy excuse. He knew he was a hostage here.

Why...?

The man known as the greatest swordsman of the continent, a loyal servant of his country, had been reduced to a mere pawn. It was ridiculous, but there were many things in the world that could not be resolved with the sword.

Is the emperor afraid of Karyl? Kuwell dismissed the thought, considering it foolish. In fact, it was absurd.

“Hmm...”

“What about Olivurn?”

“Today he’s still in Prince Kromen’s chambers. Prince Kromen keeps asking for him... Perhaps their bond grew stronger in the south.”

The empress sighed softly at Kuwell’s words.

“Thank goodness for the Second Prince. The poor child must have suffered in the south, but it seems that he took good care of him.”

She sounded like a caring mother, but she actually harbored no affection for Olivurn, who was not her blood. Her relief stemmed from the certainty that Olivurn would be preoccupied with Kromen, leaving room for Luon to redeem himself.

This means another opportunity for Luon.

“Your Majesty, all of this happened because of the Second Prince,” the empress spoke to the emperor, determined to do whatever it took to restore her son’s standing. “If that boy hadn’t made that mistake while you were away, Kromen wouldn’t be in this state.”

She never referred to Olivurn by his name.

“Everyone makes mistakes in their youth. A true emperor must also be capable of bold decisions.”

“But this... this disaster... over some insignificant barbarians...”

“Enough. An emperor gives orders; he doesn’t carry them out. If there’s someone to blame, it’s the Ryeo Knights for failing to carry out the Second Prince’s commands.”

Titan Shutean rested his chin on his hand and went on, “This shouldn’t have been such a big deal. If it were me, I would have dealt with Digon before even thinking about the spring.”

“...”

The empress said nothing more. After all, Titan Shutean was known for his ruthlessness, so his stance didn’t come off as a surprise.

“It seems that... the task was a bit too difficult for children.”

The emperor’s words carried an air of inevitability.

“Luon is still there. As you said, everyone makes mistakes. He still has troops,” the empress remarked with a hint of anxiety.

“Yes. As you said, Luon still has troops. Whether he’ll prove himself as a worthy prince or become the most disgraceful one remains to be seen.”

“...”

“However...” Titan Shutean went on, looking at the empress and Kuwell MacGovern. Ironically, one supported the first prince, the other the second.

This was a warning.

“...if any harm befalls the princes because of this, I will personally make sure that those responsible will be held accountable.”

For some reason, his words sounded less like a father’s concern for his children and more like a justification for righteous retribution.

***

“Brother...” a soft voice echoed in the dark room, where thick blackout curtains prevented any light from entering.

“Father will be disappointed, won’t he? First, Sir Gordon left, and now you’re stuck here with me.”

Kromen turned his head.

“You’ve never been outside the palace before. Perhaps life in the south didn’t suit you. You’re just adjusting, you’ll get better soon.”

Olivurn’s warm words brought tears to his younger brother’s eyes.

The palace was currently in a somber mood due to the sudden deterioration of the Third Prince’s health upon returning from the south.

“There’s so much you need to do... I feel like I’m holding you back. Please, go.”

“Aren’t you preparing for the southern expedition? Don’t worry.”

“But...”

“What good would come from competing with each other? I don’t want that. Just focus on getting better. Do you understand?”

“Brother...”

Olivurn held Kromen’s hand.

“Get well soon. Now, it’s time to take your medicine.”

He gently helped Kromen sit up in bed and handed him his remedy from the bedside table.

“And drink plenty of water.”

After swallowing the medicine, Kromen took the cup that Olivurn handed him and gulped it down.

“...”

Olivurn nodded slowly after making sure the cup was empty.

“Well done.”

“I’m so relieved that you’re here, brother,” Kromen said sincerely as he lay back down. “You...”

Olivurn smiled faintly, watching his brother struggle to hold back his tears.

“Rest easy. I will stay with you until the end.”

Hearing that, Kromen’s frail hand trembled slightly as he held it up. However, he didn’t know what his older brother’s words truly meant.

Olivurn knew his little brother would soon meet his end.

“Rest well, my brother.”

He squeezed Kromen’s hand firmly.

Click!

The bedroom door opened, and Olivurn emerged with a weary face.

“Haa...”

“Thank you, Prince. Your presence has brought Prince Kromen the mental and physical comfort he so desperately needed,” Kaplan, who had been waiting in the hallway, spoke without a hint of fatigue or distraction.

“It’s late, but you haven’t slept yet. I’m worried about your health because of Kromen. I’m sorry for your distress.”

“No need for that. It’s my duty as his brother.”

Olivurn smiled gently at the old butler.

“If you need anything, please let me know. I’ll prepare it immediately.”

“Really? In that case, could you fetch me some water to wash my hands?”

“What?”

Standing in the hallway, Olivurn continued to smile.

“I’d like to wash up right now.”

As if his hands were dirty, he wiped them with a handkerchief, still feeling uneasy. It was the hand that had held Kromen’s.

***

[What nonsense...]

Zarka Hochi’s voice echoed weakly through the Ghost Castle. The blade lodged in his waist creaked, grinding against his bones with an eerie sound.

“The Tinuviel family... I recall that was the name of the royal lineage in the old Elf Kingdom,” Gordon remarked while looking at the name written on the bottom of the painting. “Zarka Hochi, were you involved in their downfall?”

[Get that sacred name out of your filthy mouth, human!] Zarka growled. However, the mithril blade dug deeper into his spine, inflicting more pain each time he spoke.

“You’re a funny one. An elf practicing necromancy is strange enough, but being paralyzed by one mithril blade is even more incredible. What are you trying to pull here?”

Gordon recalled the strength of Zarka’s magical barrier, which had withstood his attacks, suspecting some kind of trickery.

[Foolish... This is... Ugh!]

Zarka tried to explain, but Karyl nonchalantly twisted the mithril blade lodged in his spine, cutting him off. The blade separated from the gauntlet, embedding itself deeper into his vertebrae.

His ghostly form, impaled through the thoracic and lumbar regions, gave off a faint glow.

[Guh... Guh-uh...] Zarka kept groaning in pain.

Gordon, still puzzled, didn’t realize that the true power embedded in the mithril blade wasn’t normal mana but Ramine’s spirit power.

[You...]

Despite becoming a lich through necromancy, Zarka’s mana, fundamentally based on spirit power, was powerless against Ramine’s might.

Watching him writhe in pain, Karyl put a finger to his lips, signaling for silence.

[ ... ]

Zarka, though infuriated, couldn’t defy Karyl's command, seeing the vivid form of Ramine’s flame wrapping around Karyl.

“Quite the scene.”

“Yeah.”

With Karyl’s intervention, the deadly fight had ended abruptly, casting a silence over the castle.

“Let’s take it slow, Zarka. Bridging a thousand-year gap in one go isn’t easy, is it? I have many questions for you, like what happened to the Elf Kingdom, who was behind the attack on Aerial Woods, and how you, an elf, ended up practicing necromancy.”

“And what does any of that matter?” Gordon retorted. “Just tell me where the Essence of the Soul Spring is. I’ll go get it.”

“Didn’t you just say that clinging to life is pitiful?”

Gordon’s face twitched slightly. Seeing this, Karyl chuckled and approached Zarka, making him flinch and tremble.

“Stay still.”

Ignoring his reaction, Karyl yanked the mithril sword free from his spine. Though he didn’t show it openly, Zarka’s relief was clear on his ghostly visage.

[Were you serious about what you said earlier?] Zarka finally asked the question he had been holding back.

“About what?”

[About being able to restore the Elf Kingdom. Does that mean there are living elves? No, rather...Are there descendants of Tinuviel?]

Zarka’s neck twitched. Though he had no physical form, it almost looked like he swallowed nervously, hinting that some of his old habits had remained even after a thousand years. Indeed, perhaps it was his inability to let go of the past that had driven him to create the Ghost Castle and live on like this.

“I don’t know.”

[What? Are you mocking me?]

Zarka’s dark mana began to rise.

“Is this what I get from pulling that sword out of your back?”

[Guh...!]

As Karyl unleashed his power, gripping Zarka’s head, the dark mana dissipated.

“But it was Master who drove that sword into his back in the first place...” Aidan whispered to Miliana.

“Yeah, he’s like that sometimes. He beat me up mercilessly.”

“He killed five people when I first met him,” Aidan said, spreading his fingers.

“Wow... that’s intense.”

“Hey, you two. Save the compliments for when the subject isn’t around.”

“Ahem—!”

At Karyl’s remark, Aidan and Miliana cleared their throats and feigned innocence.

“I myself don’t know if any elf descendants are still alive, but I know someone who might.”

[Who?]

“Will you help me if I tell you?”

[That depends on your answer.]

“Zarka, you still don’t get it, do you? I’ll tell you, but your response won’t change anything.”

[Guh... Agh...!]

“Because I need your power. I’ll do whatever it takes to get it.”

Ramine’s intense fiery aura engulfed Zarka Hochi, the searing pain making him scream again.

[Fine! Just tell me! You promised to answer!]

“Of course.”

Karyl released his grip.

[Gasp... Ugh...]

Zarka heaved a sigh of relief.

Karyl looked down at him and calmly said, “The Platinum Dragon, Narh Di Maug.”

“ ...!!”

“Wha—?!”

At his casual mention of the mightiest creature on the continent, everyone’s heads snapped toward him.

“He would know if any elf descendants are still alive.”

[Pff... Phahaha...]

But then, for some reason, Zarka sneered coldly.

[Narh Di Maug? Yes, he might know.]

“What’s with that reaction?”

[You really don’t know anything, do you? You asked who turned Aerial Woods into this mess? Who do you think did it?] Zarka asked sharply.

[It was the Platinum Dragon you just mentioned.]

“What?!”

For the first time in ages, Karyl’s usually calm expression twisted in disbelief.