Volume 1 - CH 2.3

Guth could not hide his dread as he stood facing Yevgnen. His shoulders were quivering noticeably and without pause. Guth was holding a sword in his hand too, but he didn’t look like he was very accustomed to wielding it. In contrast, Yevgnen stood with blade in hand with practiced grace.

Boris has seen his big brother dueling with the other young men in Jinneman territory before. Naturally, that hadn’t involved killing anyone. Their duels had essentially been little more than spars, and the victor was decided as soon as one party managed to injure the other. Boris knew that Yevgnen had dueled someone for real before too.

Yet, he had never actually seen any of his brother’s duels. The light in Yevgnen’s eyes was not as warm as it usually was. Boris could tell as much even from several feet away.

“Draw your sword,” Yevgnen said.

Yevgnen’s hand moved as soon as Guth had drawn his blade. Everyone watching, including the witnesses, was shocked as soon as Winterer was freed from its scabbard.

People began whispering amongst themselves.

“Look at that blade. That’s no ordinary sword.”

“What is that? Has anyone ever heard of a sword like that?”

The backyard was filled with the sunset’s glow. It kissed the face of every onlooker and made them look like they were drunk. Winterer alone shone with a blinding white light. It pierced the hearts of everyone watching like a shard of ice.

“I once heard that there was something called the Sword of Winter,” someone muttered.

The two duelists closed the distance between themselves just then. Blade clashed against blade. Winterer began glowing crimson in the sunset.

Guth attacked first. He believed that getting in the first strike would give him the advantage, as did every other novice swordsman. He only realized that he had messed up—and badly—after his sword made contact with Winterer.

He hadn’t been just imagining how strong Yevgnen was when Yevgnen had pinned him down by the back of his neck. Guth usually let his fists do the talking, and he was known for it in the village. Yet, Yevgnen, who was much younger and slenderer, was significantly stronger.

Moreover, Winterer was not only enchantingly beautiful but also devilishly sharp. The tip of Guth’s blade was sliced cleanly off, and the top part was flung aside and clattered to the ground. Guth was frightened out of his wits and backtracked as hard as he could.

It was Yevgnen’s turn next. He homed in on his opponent in two steps, pushed Winterer against Guth’s unsteady blade, and locked their elbows together. The blades locked and slid against each other, and Guth’s sword suddenly began quivering while emitting a metaling noise before letting out resounding clang.

No one knew what any of that noise signified. After all, that information was something that only someone who had wielded Winterer before was privy to.

A vein popped out of Guth’s forehead as he blocked two strikes from Winterer to the best of his ability. But that was all that he could manage.

Crack… Clang!

“W-what the…?!”

Everyone was astonished. Several people momentarily forgot how to speak. Guth’s sword had shattered, quite literally, into a million pieces. Boris saw the broken shards raining down. It wasn’t just one or two large fragments.

How was it possible for a bonafide metal sword to simply shatter like that?

What on earth was that white blade that Yevgnen was wielding?

“Uh…”

It didn’t take long for Guth to realize what had happened. He prostrated himself flat against the earth and drove his head into the dirt as soon as he saw Yevgnen’s sword closing in on him for a thrust. He brought his hands together above his head and begged, “P-please don’t kill me. Please…”

He was no longer in any position to be worried about keeping face. Yevgnen stopped his blade precisely at the back of Guth’s neck.

“Do you surrender?”

“Y-yes, of course. I surrender.”

“You recall the promise you made me, yes?” Yevgnen asked frigidly.

“I…”

It was dreadful, but it was still better than dying. Guth quivered for a moment before he nodded back.

“Get up,” Yevgnen said in reply.

The sun set. The people from the inn were using lamps to illuminate the backyard. Yevgnen kept his blade pointed at Guth as they went back inside.

Boris followed after them. He kept his eyes glued on his brother. He was nervous. Was Yevgnen really going to make Guth eat the rest of the maggots? Normally, Yevgnen would never…

But hadn’t his brother chewed and swallowed the maggots too?

No one could take their eyes off Winterer. They continued whispering amongst themselves, quietly so Yevgnen couldn’t hear. The blade began gleaming white again, as if it had been freshly cleaned, as soon as it was indoors.

Guth sat down at the table, and Yevgnen kept his blade pointed at the man’s back. Then, he curtly commanded, “Eat.”

Guth picked up the spoon. His fingers were quivering. Several maggots had crawled out of the dish by then. This meant that there were fewer maggots inside the dish for Guth to eat, but it also made the whole thing look even more nauseating. He hadn’t even started eating yet, but he was already retching.

“I’ll not repeat myself,” Yevgnen said.

“Brother?” Boris called with a tremble in his voice.

But Yevgnen did not spare even his little brother a single glance. There was no emotion in his face. Right now, he wasn’t the big brother who always smiled cheerfully for Boris.

Some people looked away. It wasn’t exactly the most pleasant sight. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, no one left the inn outright either.

Guth dipped the spoon into the dish. His hand was quaking. He was quaking all the way up to his shoulders. The people sitting behind him could tell with just one look. Then, he brought the spoon up to his mouth. Yevgnen did not look away, not even at the bitter end. He didn’t look away even once as Guth ate a few spoonfuls, vomited, ate a few more spoonfuls, and vomited again.

It was only after Yevgnen had confirmed that Guth, who was completely exhausted, had finally finished eating, thrown the spoon into the dish, vomited violently, and passed out that he finally took Boris with him and left.

“Brother?”

“What’s up?” Yevgnen had just sat down on the bed after inspecting the candlewick. He turned around to find Boris crouching on the bed while looking incredibly anxious. His expression mellowed as he continued, “Is something worrying you?”

Boris didn’t respond.

Yevgnen took off his boots and set them down in a corner of the room. Then, he returned to the bed and began patting Boris on the back.

“C’mon. You can tell your big brother.”

Boris looked up. His eyes shook, as if in surprise, when he saw the serenity in his brother’s mien.

Yevgnen realized what Boris was thinking and started, “Boris, you…”

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Boris said out of nowhere. He truly meant it. He continued, “I’m really glad you beat that man too. But I… I couldn’t help but think that there was something different about you when you did. I’m not trying to say that what you did was wrong. I know that you had no other choice in that situation. Father would have said that you did well too, if he was here. But—”

“No,” Yevgnen interjected. “No, Boris. You were right. No one else could have seen me as clearly as you did.”

Yevgnen smiled faintly and leaned back against the wall. He ignored Boris’ staring and gazed out the window for a moment before continuing, “You see, Boris, I…”

But he trailed off again. Boris joined his brother in looking out the window. The sparkling stars embedded the night sky. It was the same night sky that he had seen through the windows at the manor.

“You and I were never really the kind of sons that Father wanted us to be. Were we?”

Boris remembered too. Their father had never been opposed to the friendship they shared, but he had also wanted his sons to be stronger and more coldhearted. He had wanted them to never allow themselves to get swept into their affection. It wasn’t strange for him to want this. After all, Yulkan had been locked in conflict with Vlado for a very long time, and he hated Vlado completely.

The candle flickered, and Yevgnen continued, “You see, I think Father was right. Though I guess it’s far too little, far too late. That’s why I have to tell you this in Father’s stead. Don’t let your heart grow weak in the face of sympathy. You need to be strong—strong enough to easily withstand and beat back any pain or neglect you may face.”

What are you trying to tell me?

“If only I could look after you and take care of you for a long, long time… Then, I would’ve protected you always so that you could live with a warm heart and young eyes, just like now.”

Why are you talking like you’re about to go away?

“But I can’t be by your side forever. No—even if I could, I shouldn’t. You have your own path to walk. But you need to get so much stronger if you’re going to find it by yourself. You need to be so much tougher.”

Boris could see Yevgnen’s eyes—the same shade of cerulean as their mother’s—grow moist with tears. Yevgnen arduously pushed through the conversation he had never wanted to have and poured strength into every last word.

“Boris, if you can’t become a rock, then become a clam. Close yourself off tightly so that no one can open you up and see how tender you really are inside. It’s okay to shed tears in private when no one’s watching. No one can blame you when you’re alone.”

Boris was confused. He had no idea why his brother was saying all of this out of the blue. He knew without a doubt that Yevgnen was only saying this out of love for his little brother. But that wasn’t all there was to it. This was too sudden. This conversation hadn’t been started naturally as most were.

“I wish I’d realized sooner that the world wouldn’t let you just be a good little boy. If only I did…”

Boris could hear the regret in Yevgnen’s voice. He sounded like he was wishing for the impossible. Like there was a reason why he had no choice but to wish for the impossible. Like a baby bird who had suddenly lost its nest in the morning and was hoping to learn how to fly by that very same evening.

“Is that the kind of person you’ve decided to be?” Boris asked after a long stretch of silence.

Yevgnen stared elsewhere for some time with things still left unsaid before finally replying, “Yeah.”

“Okay…”

Boris decided to think that his brother had thought he had grown timid now that their house had fallen and was simply trying to comfort him. That’s why he nodded back vigorously. He wanted to comfort his brother too. What they had suffered today was something that they would never have experienced if they had been able to live in the Longorde manor for the rest of their lives. He had seen another side of his brother today, but that was nothing strange. This wasn’t their territory. There were no soldiers who would protect them here. Everyone around them was either a stranger or an enemy.

Boris began undressing in preparation for bed, but Yevgnen shook his head and stopped him.

“Don’t take your armor off, Boris.”

“Why?”

Bitterly, Yevgnen replied, “Become some of the other guests might come after us. I’ll take watch, so you go on ahead and get some sleep first. I’ll wake you up at dawn.”

Then, Yevgnen quietly blew out the candle.

Boris thought that he was dreaming at first. He realized that he wasn’t, however, as his sleepiness gradually ebbed away. He could see his big brother sitting on the floor while holding Winterer upright against the floorboards. Yevgnen was leaning against the bed with his head facing down. Boris had woken up because he thought that he had heard something.

That something was his big brother weeping quietly. Yevgnen was barely making any noise at all. Perhaps it wasn’t even because of the noise that Boris had woken up in the first place. But then, what had wakened him?

The silence filling the dark room told Boris that something serious was tormenting Yevgnen. The silence was deafening and threatened to crush the boy’s chest. He felt like his heart might explode. He felt it was the sorrowful silence itself that had wakened him.

Should I have said something?

But Boris couldn’t bring himself to say anything. A tear trailed down his temple. He didn’t know why, but he continued to shed tears in silence.

Why?

Ahh, just why?

Boris and Yevgnen left the village and headed back to the fields the next day.

They only had one horse, and Boris rode it most of the time. Yevgnen walked next to him while holding the reins and talking about all sorts of things, but he neither regaled Boris with the old tales that he had always recited back when they had still be living in the manor nor entertained Boris with funny gossip about the recent events that had happened in their territory.

Boris asked Yevgnen questions without hesitation, like he always did, whenever they came across a tree or a flower he had never seen before, but the only thing his brother told him in reply was the plant’s name. He did not supplement his reply with the beautiful legends or fables surrounding the plant like he had used to.

“Hey, did you forget all the stories you used to know, Brother?” Boris asked.

Yevgnen smiled only with his lips as he replied, “I guess I did.”

Boris could tell that Yevgnen’s smile wasn’t genuine.

They were unable to make it to the next town over before dinnertime. They had made sure to ask for detailed instructions on how to get there before leaving the previous village, but they had still ended up taking a wrong turn somewhere.

“I think we’re going to have to camp out tonight.”

The brothers found a suitable place to set up camp before it got any darker. Then, they gathered dried grasses and tree branches and got a fire going.

Yevgnen was accustomed to camping because he’d been out several days at a time on hunting trips with other young men from the Jinneman territory before. He tied the horse to a shrub close by because there weren’t any suitable trees.

The fire reminded Boris of the torches that had surrounded the manor. The shadows cast by the shrubs dance as the fire flickered. He didn’t notice anything at first.

But then, Yevgnen quietly said, “Get your sword ready, Boris.”

Boris became seized with tension and the hairs on his body stood at end. Yevgnen nonchalantly tossed another branch into the fire before taking up Winterer and climbing up to his feet.

“Do you really feel the need to hide when your whole gang’s here?”

Later, Boris would always remember three things whenever he thought about Yevgnen. The first, was the vivid blue of Yevgnen’s eyes when he had suggested that they should die together at Lake Emera. The second, was the sight of Yevgnen’s back as he stared into the campfire with Winterer in hand.

And the last…

“Arrogant brat.”

Boris was frozen in place as he clutched his short sword. Slowly, Yevgnen drew Winterer. It’s elegant blade was still resplendent even in the darkness, illuminated only by the fire. It was like a crack of light splintering the shadows.

“Surround them!”

It wasn’t long before Boris spotted them too. Over twenty men had surrounded the brothers and their fire. They were all armed with swords or something of the like. Yevgnen spotted a familiar face in the crowd and frigidly asked, “You have a lot of guards protecting you today, Guth.”

He was being intentionally provocative, but all Guth did was frown. Instead, it was the others who in their outrage cried out, “Who the fuck said we’re here to help that asshole?”

“Hmph, guess you haven’t grasped the situation just yet.”

Their enemies encircled them as they got ready for a fight. The brothers could hear their horse running away after their enemies had freed it. The fire was casting whimsical shadows everywhere.

Yevgnen quickly turned his gaze to the man who looked like the leader of the gang and asked, “What do you want?”

Boris stood up too. He stood back-to-back with his brother with the fire in between them. He had never wielded anything other than a wooden training sword before, but he didn’t want their enemies to see him as a young child who didn’t know how to fight. Besides, his posture was actually quite good.

One of the men took a step closer to the campfire and said, “Your sword. That’s Winterer, ain’t it?”

I knew it… Yevgnen bit his lip and tightened his grip on his sword. It had been a mistake to announce his name before the duel.  Yet, Yevgnen Jinneman did not believe it was proper to kill someone without even telling them his name. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand how dangerous it was to identify himself like that. However, he believed that it was something that must be done before engaging in an honorable duel.

“We can send you both along on your merry way if you just hand it over without making a fuss.”

The gang leader was a tall man with black sideburns. He had a booming voice, and two scars were visible on his exposed chest. They looked like they had been made by swords. He was sure to be strong if he had been able to get this many others to follow him.

The gang leader continued, “Your little brother’s a bit too young to die, don’tcha think?”

It was impossible for anyone to fend off twenty opponents at once and survive to tell the tale. That being said, Yevgnen had absolutely no intention of handing over the sword without a fight.

But what about Boris?

Just then, Yevgnen heard Boris say, “Being twelve doesn’t make me too young to see reason.”

“Oho? What’cha trying to say, kid?” the man with black sideburns asked. He seemed to think that Boris intended to surrender the sword.

Contrary to the gang leader’s expectations, Boris glared back at him and firmly responded, “I’m trying to say that I know when it’s time to die.”

There was no longer a need for words. The first enemy struck. Winterer flashed horizontally as Yevgnen brandished it, and droplets of blood splattered into the darkness.

“Watch yourselves!”

A sword closed in from Yevgnen’s left, slid under Winterer’s blade, and tore open the back of Yevgnen’s hand. Yevgnen clashed against a curved knife, pushed back a longsword, and kicked away yet another blade. He thrust Winterer forward when he found an opening and pierced someone through the forehead. A warm liquid traveled down Winterer’s blade.

Boris tried his hardest to see in the dark. He flinched and tried to step back when he saw something that looked like rope coming closer, but he freaked out when he accidentally stepped on a burning branch and began swinging his sword with reckless abandon. He could feel the rope being cut apart as it snapped audibly. He was biting his lip so hard that he was bleeding, but he was too anxious to notice.

Someone tried to swing a flail at Yevgnen’s head but only managed to get its chain wrapped up around Winterer’s blade. Yevgnen grasped his sword tight once more, and that strange ringing noise resounded once more. The chain exploded into pieces, and some of those pieces tumbled into the campfire. The burning branches were scattered and sent embers flying everywhere.

“Hmph, so that must be Winterer’s rumored skill—Frozen Break.”

Frozen Break was the name that had been given to one of the spells that Winterer was imbued with. The spell itself was called Cryogenic Explosion. It was a legendary skill that made anything touching the sword’s blade drop so low in temperature that it shattered. However, only a few people knew that it could only be used in tandem with Snowguard.

“That’s quite some skills you’ve got there! But let’s see how well you fight when you kid brother has himself a hole through the stomach.”

Three men surrounded Boris and closed in on him.

The brothers’ enemies could see their every movement because of the fire. In contrast, the men could stay hidden in the darkness while enjoying a clear view of their targets.

Yevgnen was aware of this too, but he knew that Boris would get captured without being able to put up a fight if he leapt into the shadows, where their enemies were, alone. This was why he wasn’t able to break through the men’s encirclement and even out the scales.

To make matters worse, Yevgnen and Boris were too close to the fire for their eyes to adapt to the darkness. They couldn’t keep track of their enemies. That was why Yevgnen wasn’t able to react in time when a blade was thrust in between them. Its wielder had been pretending to attack Boris, but it had only been a feint. He ended up stabbing Yevgnen in the flank instead.

Crunch…

A strange noise echoed. The sword dragged across Snowguard’s chainmail when it made contact and began vibrating inexplicably. The man who had been wielding it dropped it in alarm when the vibrations reached his hand. The shock had run all the way up his shoulders and made his entire arm go numb.

The light in the man with the black sideburn’s eyes changed.

“Shit, does he have the armor too?” he asked. The news about what had happened to House Jinneman hadn’t spread yet. The men couldn’t fathom what both sons of the renowned house were doing all the way out here. They had simply started burning up with greed when they realized that the house’s infamous treasure was right before their very eyes. “Why don’t you try me on for a change?”

Yevgnen finally found himself facing off against the man with the sideburns. Once, twice—both of them realized that their opponent was highly skilled as they clashed. But Yevgnen was a young man who was lacking experience, whereas his opponent had been living off his sword for decades. The man pretended to be pushed back as he slowly lured Yevgnen forward.

It was difficult to fall back again in a fight after you’d already started moving forward. After all, missing the beat in the middle of the fight meant that you could suddenly find yourself being forced on the defensive.

The man with the sideburns was aware of Winterer’s skill, so he made sure to avoid being in contact with the blade for too long and carefully attacked only when he saw openings he could take advantage of. Yevgnen wanted to pray with every half-step he was forced to take. He knew that it wouldn’t be easy to suppress the gang leader. Not with his level of skill, at least. One mistake on his part, and everything would suddenly come crashing to an end.

Creak… Clang!

The two opponents’ swords locked against each other briefly before the man with the sideburns quickly pulled his sword away from avoid Winterer’s Frozen Break. Yevgnen seized the resulting opening.

“Haah!”

But just as he thought he’d finally won… Something peculiar happened mere moments before Winterer could pierce through the man’s throat. The man’s body had suddenly gone slack and crumpled to the ground. Yevgnen’s sword hadn’t even touched him yet, but he had collapsed without so much as letting out a scream.