Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Chapter 4

Before anyone realized it, the harvest season had passed and winter had arrived.

The changing seasons were, when viewed broadly, much like a person’s life.

Everyone had a season of growth. They bloomed in full, ripened, and eventually grew cold.

Rickart had entered a season of change in his life.

It had only just begun, but change was still change.

Although pitch-black night had fallen over the Kaldevern manor in Stormherz, lights remained lit in one part of the estate. From a distance, light could be seen spilling from two windows.

Then, shattering the silence of the hour, a woman’s agonized screams rang through the manor.

"Aaaaaagh! Urghhh...!"

Outside the illuminated birthing chamber, Graut paced the corridor in his nightclothes, anxiously rubbing his chin. Abelich stood silently beside him.

At the far end of the corridor, two boys watched from the darkness while holding hands.

They were Vilter and Rickart.

In an age when maternal and infant mortality rates were high, bringing a new life into the world meant risking one’s own.

Vilter’s expression was filled with worry and anxiety.

Yet he did not know what he was worried or anxious about.

He could not tell whether the hand holding his younger brother’s was offering comfort or seeking it.

The midwife carried basins filled with bloody water back and forth several times.

Then, at last, a cry like the dawn of a new world burst forth.

"Waaaaah!"

Even the stern Abelich could not control his expression at that moment. Unable to enter the birthing chamber, he shouted from outside.

"Someone! Tell us what happened!"

A short while later, the midwife emerged carrying the infant, its umbilical cord severed and its body wrapped in cloth.

"Congratulations, my lord. It is a young master. The lady is healthy as well."

A young master.

In other words, a son.

Vilter felt that the inevitable had finally arrived.

It was the sensation of something he had desperately wanted to avoid finally coming to pass—a crushing weight settling upon his chest like a stone.

Abelich’s and Graut’s faces, by contrast, brightened with joy.

"Ricky, it’s over for us now."

"No. It’s the beginning."

"For the baby, for us, and for our eldest brother. Father has become a grandfather, and our brother has become a father. We’ve become uncles. It’s fascinating."

Vilter turned and stared blankly at Rickart.

"Aren’t you afraid? Of leaving home?"

"I’ll miss it, but I don’t think I’m afraid."

"...You’re better than I am. I thought you were nothing but a little kid. Then again, you killed that enormous boar and defied Father.... You do have some backbone."

"And Villy is smart."

His younger brother’s words made Vilter snicker.

He roughly tousled Rickart’s hair.

Vilter directed barbed remarks at almost everyone, but he had not always been that way. Despite the four-year difference between them, he had always treated Rickart without reserve.

It had been that way since childhood.

That was why Rickart regarded Vilter less as an elder brother and more as a friend his own age.

"Want to sleep together tonight? It’s been a while," Vilter asked.

"Why? Are you frightened?"

"Don’t get cheeky. Go bring your pillow."

Rickart laughed, returned to his room, and brought back his pillow.

As the two of them lay beneath the same blanket, they began grinning mischievously despite doing nothing at all.

The baby’s powerful cries could still be heard outside, but Vilter and Rickart found comfort within a time and space that belonged only to them.

They spoke of embarrassing moments, amusing incidents, fascinating experiences, and the days when their mother had still been alive.

They talked about the memories they had accumulated together while living in this place.

As time passed, the commotion outside gradually subsided.

Neither knew who fell asleep first.

The eldest son’s eldest son had been born.

With that, the succession of Stormherz had been placed upon an unshakable foundation.

It also meant that the spare parts were no longer necessary.

The heir’s brothers were not merely unnecessary.

They were seeds that might become threats in the future.

They did not need to do anything wrong. Even if they remained perfectly still, this was simply how matters unfolded within a noble household.

No one openly mistreated them or pressured them, but it was inevitable that Lord Abelich’s attention would now be directed entirely toward his grandson.

It was not only Abelich.

The entire household and all the villagers were the same.

Rickart clearly sensed the changes in small, everyday matters.

Perhaps they had become somewhat neglectful of him.

Sometimes, no one cared whether he had eaten a meal. He now needed permission merely to see his nephew.

He could feel a distance growing between himself and his family.

Despite it being winter, the entire manor was overflowing with energy.

Yet Vilter and Rickart felt excluded from its celebratory atmosphere.

From the others’ perspective, perhaps they were merely being cautious. Regardless of their personal feelings, showing attention to a second son under these circumstances might create conflict or cause the next lord to view them unfavorably.

Their period of isolation continued.

A month passed after Rickart’s nephew was born, and the bitter winter cold reached its height.

Lord Abelich summoned Vilter and Rickart separately.

He called his two sons to a pond some distance from the manor.

As they made their way there, Vilter and Rickart sensed that their father intended to discuss something important.

When they arrived, the pond was frozen solid.

The surrounding trees had shed every leaf, exposing their bare, skeletal limbs.

Their father stood facing the frozen pond. He wore a thick fur coat with a cloak draped over it.

The sky was gray.

Vilter and Rickart approached him hesitantly.

"You called for us?"

Vilter spoke, but their father remained silent as though he had not heard.

For a long time, Abelich merely stared at the frozen pond. With nothing else to do, the two boys released one pale breath after another into the air.

Then their father abruptly spoke, as though casually tossing out the words.

"Someone will be coming from the main family."

The "main family" referred to the comital House Kaldevern.

The Stormherz branch of the family had split off during their great-grandfather’s generation, when partible inheritance was still common.

A noble house could have only one head.

That head determined the fate of every member of the family—their education, future, marriage, and even death.

Strictly speaking, therefore, Abelich was not the head of House Kaldevern. He possessed the authority of lord and patriarch only within Stormherz.

The main family had rarely interfered in Stormherz’s affairs.

Perhaps that was because they shared a sense of kinship through their common blood.

Or perhaps the main family simply had no interest in them.

None of that mattered anymore.

Graut’s wife had come from the main family.

In other words, husband and wife shared the same family name.

It represented a complete reunification. Blood relatives who had branched apart from the same roots were coming together once again.

Consequently, even without the principle of primogeniture, Graut’s son had to inherit the territory at all costs, if only for diplomatic reasons.

Everything surrounding the estate and the family was gradually pushing the sons who were not the legitimate heir out of the household, whether anyone intended it or not.

"The man coming from the main family is a scholar who studied at the renowned Hantz University. He will help determine your futures. This is the greatest consideration I can offer you as your father."

It was, in truth, an extraordinary consideration.

Many families would simply send their younger sons to some distant monastery without asking what they wanted.

Neither Vilter nor Rickart looked particularly pleased.

That was understandable.

Rickart merely warmed his freezing hands with his breath, looking as thoughtless as ever.

Abelich looked at him and smiled faintly.

Then he gently stroked his son’s head.

"Let me hold you. Villy, you come here as well."

"Pardon?"

Abelich pulled his startled sons into his cloak and embraced them.

The two boys felt terribly awkward and flustered, but they could clearly feel his warmth.

It was different from being held in their mother’s arms.

After remaining that way for a while, Abelich undid the clasp of his cloak, removed it, and draped it around both his sons.

Vilter and Rickart looked like an endearing monster with two heads sharing a single body.

Abelich sat upon a nearby rock and once again gazed at the frozen pond.

"I first took part in battle when I was fourteen. I followed my father and elder brother. It was bitterly cold then, just like today. I was given command of a small group of soldiers and ordered to make a wide detour before striking the enemy."

He continued quietly.

"While we were passing through the forest, arrows suddenly came flying at us. By the time I regained my senses, I had already fled a great distance. I was ashamed that I had run, so I returned to the battlefield. The wounded and the dead lay scattered everywhere. Then I met my father, running toward me with my brother on his back. Blood was pouring from my brother’s neck."

For the first time, Abelich shared a personal story with his two sons.

Listening while shivering in the cold left them with a strange feeling.

Their hearts pounded for some unknown reason, and they also felt strangely burdened.

Their father was always confident and impassive whenever he stood before others.

Yet now, he somehow appeared diminished.

"’You coward. Your brother died because of you. Listen carefully. I am going to take revenge. You must recover the bodies somehow and continue the family line. I will be waiting for you in the afterlife.’ Those were the last words my father ever spoke to me."

Perhaps the memory still filled him with shame, for Abelich lowered his head.

Fleeing the battlefield had certainly been wrong, but they were unbearably cruel words.

Cruel enough to haunt a man for the rest of his life.

How many people could remain composed in the face of death?

Especially during their first battle?

Even so, a noble was expected to stand his ground and fight.

At the very least, he had to remain where he was.

That was why preserving one’s honor as a noble was such a harsh undertaking.

The atmosphere had become so heavy that Vilter barely dared to breathe.

He was still too young to understand his father fully, so he simply listened.

"Villy, Ricky. I want the two of you to promise me one thing."

Abelich turned to face his sons.

"If you must resent someone, please resent me. Do not resent your brother."

Given the atmosphere, they could hardly refuse even if they had wanted to.

Yet this did not feel like merely obeying one of their father’s usual commands.

"Yes, Father. I understand. I promise."

Vilter answered first, his expression solemn.

When Abelich looked at Rickart, the boy’s large eyes darted from side to side above cheeks flushed red by the cold.

"I don’t resent either of you. Not Father, and not my brother. I never will. There’s no need for a promise, but if you require my little promise, I’ll gladly give it."

Abelich smiled faintly again and reached out to stroke both sons’ heads.

"I was never as skilled in battle as my father, and I was inferior to my brother in every respect. Even so, I did everything I could to avoid bringing shame upon my family. I worked at it my entire life. My entire life."

He looked back toward the pond.

"After my first battle, I never fled the battlefield again. I always fought at the very front. The truth is, I was never courageous. I merely lived in constant fear and anxiety. You may not understand it now, but inheriting a territory is not necessarily a good thing."

Whether they understood or not, the mere fact that their father was speaking to them this openly was moving.

No—it was deeply moving.

Rickart seemed to consider his father’s words for a while before speaking.

"Everyone has a time in their life when they are a coward. I think what matters is the choice they make after realizing their cowardice. Depending on that choice, some become brave while others remain cowards."

Rickart looked directly at his father.

"You are undoubtedly a brave knight, Father. I’m sure Grandfather would be proud of you. He was probably overwhelmed by emotion when he said those things. So please don’t hold his words too deeply in your heart."

Abelich’s eyes widened as he listened to his youngest son.

He had known the boy was extraordinary, but he had not realized just how thoughtful and profound he was.

"Hey, don’t speak above your station," Vilter scolded Rickart, suddenly worried about how their father might react.

"Was that above my station?"

"No. It’s all right. I think Ricky may be correct. Yes.... I hope that was how he truly felt."

Perhaps Abelich had decided that he would treat his two sons kindly no matter what happened today, for he merely smiled calmly.

Today, he seemed to be facing his sons purely as their father, setting aside his roles as head of the household, lord, and representative of the family.

"Villy, you understand things quickly, no matter what they are, but you also lose interest just as quickly. If you develop perseverance and patience, I believe you can accomplish anything you set your mind to."

It was the first praise Vilter had ever heard from his father.

He had thought his father was not even interested in him.

Had he been watching all along?

Vilter was so delighted that his heart began to pound.

This time, Abelich looked at Rickart.

He silently studied the boy for a long time before speaking.

"Ricky, you are undoubtedly an extraordinary child. Perhaps you do not merely possess talent, but are a truly rare genius. Yet that is precisely what concerns me. I have seen excessive talent become poison on several occasions."

His voice was grave.

"You need not be meek, but you must guard against arrogance. I hope you will bring honor to our family name and find salvation for yourself. Who knows? Perhaps you will establish a new house, just as our ancestor, the heroic knight Kaldevert, once did. If that truly happened, it would bring me tremendous joy."

"When you tell me to bring honor to our family name, do you mean I should distinguish myself in battle?"

"No. I mean that whatever you do, you must conduct yourself honorably. Do not lie. Act honestly and keep your distance from unrighteous things. Some may call you foolish for doing so. Nevertheless, that is the path by which you will honor both yourself and our family."

Rickart appeared to consider this seriously for a moment.

"That sounds rather easy. I’ve never been able to lie in the first place."

"Hey, stop being so cheeky."

Vilter frowned as he scolded him.

There was no need to worry, however.

Abelich simply burst into hearty laughter.

"Hahaha! That’s true. I’ve never once seen you tell a lie, Ricky! Hahaha!"

Vilter and Rickart stared at their laughing father in astonishment.

It was the first time in their lives that they had ever seen him laugh so loudly.

So Father can smile this brightly too.

After laughing to his heart’s content, Abelich rose and began walking back toward the manor with his two sons.

Vilter and Rickart followed behind him, still sharing their father’s cloak.

From that day onward, Abelich treated Vilter and Rickart with genuine affection.

Graut and his wife were kind to them as well.

As though the final piece had fallen into place, Vilter and Rickart sincerely prayed that their nephew would grow up healthy and strong.

In a way, it might have seemed as though the family was treating someone kindly for the last time before a terminal illness carried them away.

Even so, it was far better than nothing.

There were plenty of families that would have cast them out without the slightest affection.

Perhaps perfection was relative.

At the very least, Rickart believed he had perfect parents and brothers.

His sister-in-law as well.

And his nephew.

Perhaps because his previous life had been filled with nothing but darkness, Rickart knew how to cherish even the smallest light.

That light was the consideration, memories, and affection he had received from his family.

They were like the stars he had gazed at endlessly in the night sky during his days as a shepherd.

Fire and steel, blood and death.

In their place, his mother’s embrace, the bond between brothers, and his father’s acknowledgment now shone like starlight within Rickart’s heart.

Chapter 1 – Memories That Became Cherished Recollections. End.