Chapter 9: The Wind of Revival Blows Once Again

“…What the hell is this?”

The dawn before the first light is the epitome of silence. The sounds of nature, insects, and people—everything waits, holding its breath for the sun to rise.

In this tranquil stillness, Esil stood by the window, gazing outside absentmindedly.

Why is he acting like this?

Esil was lost in deep thought.

She could understand her master’s kind gestures as part of a plan, words meant to manipulate her into a certain action, but the fact that he cried, no matter how much she thought about it, made no sense to her.

Esil turned and sat down on the wooden chair at the table.

She placed her hands on the table and rested her chin, staring at the birdcage.

“Mila, you saw it, right…? Him crying.”

After Roselle left, Esil named the parrot “Mila.” It was the same name as the little bird that had accompanied her on the journey.

Mila blinked her small eyes.

Of course, it was impossible to have a conversation with such a creature.

Still, Esil found comfort simply from having a living being by her side.

It was as if she wasn’t alone.

The overwhelming loneliness she felt in the underground prison was easing, thanks to this tiny creature.

Just as Roselle intended.

“What could it be…? I’ve never really met him.”

Mila tilted her head a few times.

It didn’t matter that there was no answer.

Just meeting Mila’s gaze felt like a conversation in itself.

Esil continued speaking, as if talking to herself.

“…What kind of master cries for his s*ave? Right?”

Though they had only known each other for a few hours, Esil felt a sense of closeness as she spoke to Mila.

Perhaps because she resembled the little bird from her journey, it felt like the companion who had been by her side during difficult times had returned.

“Hmm… But really, I don’t understand. Why did he cry?”

At that time, Esil was too confused to ask.

Her master’s sudden sobs had filled the room with awkward silence, and after applying the cream, Roselle had simply told her to rest before leaving.

Chirp, chirp, chirp.

Dawn was breaking.

As the sunlight from the window reached the center of the room, Esil walked back to the window, still deep in thought.

Pity?

Sympathy?

The only emotions she could immediately associate with her master were those two.

And that meant he was someone emotionally rich and warm-hearted.

If not, it would be impossible to understand.

Of course, even these emotions were difficult for her to understand at this moment.

Duke Roselle.

She had heard of his success story.

He had risen from being a commoner to becoming a duke in just a few years.

But she had only heard rumors about him, never actually met him.

The only memory she had of him was a brief encounter at the royal court.

Even then, they had just exchanged greetings before he left for an expedition.

For someone like him to empathize with her pain and cry for her—honestly, it was beyond comprehension.

And they weren’t even childhood friends or lovers.

“Ah…! Now that I think about it…”

At that moment, something flashed through Esil’s mind.

On the day she first met him at the royal court, she had shaken Duke Roselle’s hand in a polite greeting.

It had started as a typical introduction.

But the final words Roselle had spoken were rather strange.

No, to Esil at the time, they had been quite unpleasant.

“When you succeed in defeating the Demon King, please don’t return directly to the royal palace. Please stop by my Roselle estate first. I have something urgent to tell you. I ask you kindly.”

The Roselle estate was located on the opposite side of the road to the Demon King’s castle and the royal capital.

In other words, in order to visit the estate, one would have to take a large detour around the capital.

Naturally, Esil had rejected the offer at the time.

It wasn’t a journey of return alone.

There was no need to unnecessarily extend the journey, which included companions and porters.

At the time, Roselle’s request to visit his estate before returning to the royal palace had seemed suspicious.

It seemed like flattery, an attempt to attach himself to her accomplishments.

Esil had brushed it off as nothing important.

But upon reflection, it seemed quite puzzling.

Why had he insisted on visiting his estate first, even if it meant going out of the way?

Had he really been trying to flatter her?

“…This is giving me a headache.”

The more she thought about it, the more questions arose.

She recalled how he always knew her food preferences so well, and despite not accompanying her on the journey, he had gifted her a parrot, Mila, who resembled a bird she had met halfway through the journey.

Was it all just a coincidence?

It felt as though he had known her for a long time, as if they were very familiar with each other, even though there was no evidence to back that feeling.

After hours of deep thought, Esil realized that no answers would come from pondering it further.

And perhaps, all of this was just part of some clever trick.

Nobles were prideful and masters of manipulation. They were well-versed in handling people.

Thus, it was too early to let her guard down.

“What could it be… my master…”

Esil muttered as she gazed at the tree swaying in the wind. It felt as if that tree was like her, swaying in different directions depending on the wind.

“Ha!”

-Whooosh!

With a powerful shout, the sword cut through the air. Roden was training alone in the early morning at the training grounds.

Despite the cool weather, sweat was beginning to form on Roden’s upper lip after only a few shouts.

Roden was a commoner.

More specifically, he was a street orphan.

He had lost his parents and had been living a life of begging, moving from street to street.

Eventually, Roselle had found Roden on the verge of starving to death in the street and had brought him to his estate, where he had been living for over a year.

Humans are greatly affected by their environment. As a result, Roden, now 13 years old, was more practical for his age.

The days he spent surviving had taught him harsh truths about life.

Sometimes he would swallow bitter truths, and other times he would turn away from sweet lies.

Roden had developed a practical and flexible mindset, learned from the streets.

Roselle had allowed Roden to live in the estate and had asked him to befriend his daughter, Celia.

Celia was an idealistic child, quite different from what one would expect from a noble.

Usually, those without much would dream big, while those with wealth tended to be more conservative.

But Celia was different.

She was passionate about peace, freedom, and equality, and her goal was to become a “hero” to achieve them.

Roselle, knowing that dreams and ideals can lead to a fall if not carefully managed, had placed Roden by her side to keep her grounded.

Fortunately, Roden had been fulfilling his role well.

As dreams and ideals rise, the higher they go, the greater the shock of the fall when reality sets in.

Roden had been standing by Celia to help prevent her from losing touch with reality.

-Whooosh!

“Ha! Hup!”

With each swing of his sword, Roden controlled his breathing, exhaling as he drew his sword back.

Watching the palace guards train from time to time, Roden’s swordsmanship was quite refined and swift, even though he had been training alone.

-Clap, clap, clap.

At that moment, the sound of clapping was heard from somewhere.

When Roden turned his gaze, he saw Celia approaching, clapping her hands.

Roden let out a small laugh.

“Why? Is my swordsmanship so impressive, little sister?”

“No, I just thought your courage in goofing off while everyone else is working was worthy of a round of applause.”

At Celia’s words, Roden felt deflated.

Once again, he realized today that Celia was a master of the noble way of speaking.

With a sullen expression, he fastened his sword to his belt.

“Such a grand noble, huh? Ugh.”

“Everyone else is busy preparing for ‘my’ birthday party, and here you are, living the good life, huh? Lord Roden?”

To an outsider, it might have seemed like Celia was mocking Roden, but in truth, Celia had come out of concern for him.

If Roden had been training privately, forgetting about his real duties, the housekeeper would surely give him a harsh reprimand.

“I don’t start my duties until the afternoon, you know? Lady Celia?”

“Afternoon? Why?”

“After the banquet hall is ready, the servants who will be attending the banquet are gathering to practice.”

“Ah, I see. But you’re going to serve as a servant?”

Roden puckered his lips and shrugged his shoulders.

Most children would not understand, but Roden did.

“A commoner like me actually enjoys serving.

Of course, if the commoner is as cute, cool, and dignified as I am, noble ladies might like it.”

“Nothing you said is correct. Are you trying to tarnish the Del family’s reputation?” *Puh-huh.*

“Ugh, don’t even talk about it.”

Roden clicked his tongue and took his sword again. Then, he adopted a fighting stance.

-Whoosh!

With a quick step, he slashed horizontally with his sword. It was a type of footwork, but for now, it was just an imitation.

“Tch, if only I could use magic.”

Roden was filled with a desire to grow stronger.

From a young age, he had realized that only strength could protect what was precious.

But as someone who couldn’t handle mana, Roden was beginning to hit a wall.

Of course, one could rise as a knight without handling mana. But that was as far as it would go.

To climb higher, magic was essential.

And to protect what was precious, it was even more necessary.

Roden glanced at Celia before irritably throwing his sword on the ground and sitting down.

“Damn it.”

“Tsk, tsk. Your temper. Do you really think you’ll ever reach the level of our hero, Emilia?”

Celia approached Roden, adjusting her skirts and sitting down primly.

Though it was more of a provocation than comfort, to Celia, it was meant to be a form of consolation.

A gust of wind blew, stirring up a sandstorm in the training ground.

Roden, staring blankly at the swirling sand, spoke.

“…Just in case.”

“What is it?”

“You know the King is coming to the birthday party, right?”

“I know.”

“Also, many of the King’s supporters, the noble faction, will be there.”

“So what?”

“Be careful. Trust can sometimes be a poison.”

At Roden’s unusually serious words, Celia looked at him with a surprised expression, then turned her head.

It was rare to see Roden so serious.

Though it was a bit unfamiliar, Celia soon understood the meaning behind his words and smirked.

“Are you worried about me, Roden?” *Heh heh.*

“What? No, I’m not!”

Celia bent down, supporting herself with her hands, and looked up at Roden.

The sudden closeness made Roden blush, and he stuttered.

“…If you get hurt, the head of the household will be hurt too. He’s my benefactor.”

“Ah, such a loyal subject.”

This time, Celia sighed dramatically, as if the air had deflated, and sat back up.

“Well, I’m just saying, be careful… Words don’t always come out the way you intend.”

“Yes, yes~ Don’t worry, loyal Lord Roden. Are you planning to switch careers to become a governess?”

At Celia’s playful teasing, Roden chuckled.

It was a self-deprecating smile that didn’t quite match his youthful face, yet carried the wisdom of his later years.

Lord Rosell was a benefactor.

He was the one who had given Roden a chance to survive when he had been barely scraping by.

Therefore, Rosell’s adopted daughter, Celia, was also considered a benefactor in the same sense.

Roden truly worried about Celia.

He was concerned that, through an unintended slip of the tongue, she might find herself in danger.

The wind rustled gently.

The harsh sandstorm subsided, and a refreshing autumn breeze blew gently.

Meanwhile, at that very moment.

Having finished his early morning meal, Lord Rosell was heading somewhere with the butler, Gellion.

With a somewhat solemn expression, Rosell looked serious.

Gellion followed him with equal solemnity.

“By the way, how is the eraser development going?”

At Rosell’s question, Gellion immediately answered.

“The prototype has been completed. Long-term performance tests are also underway.”

“Is everything on track so that we can present it at the birthday party?”

“Of course. However, Lord.”

“Hmm?”

At Gellion’s call, Rosell stopped walking.

“How did you come up with such an idea? Even in my old age, I never would have imagined it.”

“Haha, is that so? I just thought that as there are meetings, there are also farewells, and where there is something to write, there should be something to erase.”

Gellion looked at him with admiration.

There was respect and a bit of awe in his expression.

How could this Duke, who was no more than half his age, come up with such an idea?

The simple logic of “If there is something to write, there should be something to erase” was incredible.

Putting that simple logic into action required tremendous courage and intellect.

And yet, his lord was doing it.

Gellion clicked his tongue in amazement.

“Heh, heh, it really feels like you’re from the future, Lord. You always manage to leave me in awe.”

“Thank you. Now, shall we go? I can’t stop walking after hearing that the weapon to lead the future is complete. Hahaha.”

“Ah, I apologize, my lord. Let’s go.”

Gellion, who had stopped laughing, gave a polite gesture, and the two of them resumed walking.

They headed toward a clearing in the northwestern part of the estate.

It was an area surrounded by high walls and fences, with no access for outsiders. This was the so-called “Secret Weapon Test Area.”

“Welcome, my lord.”

When they arrived, someone greeted them.

The man who stood out with a short-cropped hairstyle, a strong, masculine appearance, and a robust physique was the chief of siege engineers, Durraton.