SOTBW - 11

It was early morning. Najane had gotten up early and was waiting for Maximón at the entrance of the lodging. The knights of the Romsoa Order trained relentlessly every day, regardless of status. When she had worked as a maid here, she used to click her tongue as if it were someone else’s problem, watching the knights drenched in sweat as they ran their thirtieth lap around the vast training ground.

She was fiddling with the sword at her waist when she sensed a presence behind her and turned around. It was Maximón. He looked at her briefly before walking ahead without a word.

The training ground was already bustling with knights and soldiers in the middle of intense drills. However, Maximón passed by the training ground and continued walking straight ahead.

His destination was the Recheo Order, located near the Romsoa Order. Most of the knights in the Recheo Order were women because their commander, Taylor Elderkerth, was female.

“Commander, why are we going here...?”

Najane hurried to keep up with Maximón, whose long legs and wide strides were difficult to match, as she asked her question.

Maximón kept his gaze straight ahead as he replied.

“Have you heard of Taylor Elderkerth?”

“Of course. She’s the only...”

“The only Sword Master in the Kingdom of Bastronia. The last one in the world now.”

In such troubled times, having someone as strong as a Sword Master in Bastronia was a great comfort. But Taylor was too old. Though she was healthier than most her age, it was unreasonable to expect a seventy-year-old to have the stamina of a youth.

Of course, her skills were still formidable enough for her to be active in the field.

The problem was that she had overused her sword aura fighting countless Serith, leaving her so exhausted she could barely fight for more than a few days at a time. As a result, the real burden of defending and leading Noctis Fortress fell entirely on Maximón.

Realizing the weight of responsibility Maximón carried, Najane lowered her head in renewed respect.

When they arrived at the Recheo Order’s headquarters, they were greeted by Olkoni, who smiled warmly and guided them inside.

It was obvious why Maximón had brought Najane here. He wanted to see if she had the potential to become a Sword Master.

Unconsciously, Najane tensed up. Taylor was the strongest Sword Master, who had trained countless disciples.

Olkoni led them to the Recheo Order’s training ground, where Taylor was waiting for them.

Najane recognized Taylor at a glance. Her snow-white hair, so pale it could be mistaken for silver, and her bright blue eyes, which seemed to glow with clarity. Her presence exuded dignity and strength, prompting Najane to bow instinctively.

Taylor smiled faintly.

“It’s been a while, Mash.”

Mash. It was an unfamiliar name, but Najane instinctively glanced at Maximón. The nickname didn’t suit him at all.

What kind of relationship did these two have? As Najane looked up at Maximón with a curious expression, Olkoni whispered softly.

“The commander likes to give her disciples affectionate nicknames. Sir Elgort is her twelfth disciple.”

“Oh.”

Najane nodded in understanding.

Maximón, however, looked displeased with the nickname “Mash” as he shook hands with Taylor.

“Please stop with the ridiculous nickname, Master.”

“What’s the big deal? Anyway, is this the girl you mentioned...?”

Taylor looked past Maximón’s shoulder at Najane.

Najane, who had been awkwardly standing still, flinched at Taylor’s attention and straightened her posture. Taylor beckoned her forward with a kind smile, and Najane quickly stepped to Maximón’s side.

For a moment, Taylor’s gaze on Najane narrowed. Najane’s hair color was quite distinctive. Taylor had seen a similar hue long ago—dusty, earthy tones yet delicate like pastel pink.

It was during a meeting where Sword Masters had gathered to exchange techniques, long before the Serith had reappeared.

The woman whose beauty left everyone speechless was named Nellis Powley, the youngest Sword Master who had pledged loyalty and chastity to Queen Audelica, the last monarch of the Kingdom of Elgort.

“You can wield sword aura, can’t you? If you don’t mind, could you show me here?”

Taylor spoke to Najane with great politeness.

Najane quickly unfastened the sword at her waist, still sheathed, and responded with a shy expression.

“Yes, of course.”

Maximón silently observed her. At first, she had tried so hard to hide her abilities, but now she looked purely excited, without a trace of pretense. Perhaps, deep down, Najane had a desire to be acknowledged by someone.

As he thought about this, Najane suddenly felt relatable. Maximón himself spent countless moments each day pondering how he could be truly recognized as Edwin’s son. How much more effort and sacrifice would it take…

No. No, he shook off such weak thoughts. If he wanted to please Edwin, he needed to defend Noctis Fortress more perfectly than ever. And for that, he needed Najane, who had the potential to become a Sword Master. This was his golden opportunity—to finally hear Edwin say, “You truly are my son.”

“…Oh, impressive,” Taylor murmured softly as she watched Najane.

A brilliant white light flashed across the training ground, and Maximón lifted his head.

A crescent-shaped aura swept through a stack of straw bundles, scattering into silvery particles as it dissipated. The bundles split cleanly in two, as though a sharp blade had sliced them precisely down the middle.

Olkoni clapped his hands in pure amazement. Maximón glanced at Taylor, who was smiling.

But he knew his master better than anyone. Taylor’s smile was fake.

Maximón stared at Najane as she approached with a lighthearted expression. Something felt wrong.

Taylor, still wearing a gentle smile, asked Najane, “Who taught you to use the sword?”

“A knight I knew… Ah, I wasn’t formally trained. They just watched me practice whenever they had time,” Najane replied.

“Are you from the Kingdom of Elgort?” Taylor’s question made Najane’s cheek twitch slightly.

Najane smiled calmly.

“Yes, I am.”

“I see… I thought as much.”

Taylor trailed off, her gaze shifting to the perfectly cut straw bundles. Then, folding her hands behind her back, she turned to Olkoni and spoke warmly.

“Olkoni, please introduce Najane to the knights of the Recheo Order. There aren’t any female knights in Romsoa, after all. I need to have a private word with Mash for a moment.”

Olkoni smiled and took Najane’s hand, already excited at the prospect of introducing the new recruit from Romsoa. Najane wanted to stay and hear Taylor’s opinion about her potential, but she couldn’t bring herself to voice her desire. Instead, she left the training ground with Olkoni.

An inexplicable anxiety crept over her. What if Taylor told her never to use aura again?

“Emaydis. Remember my words. You must never imitate their technique again—never. I’m telling you this out of concern for you. Do you understand?”

As she ascended the stairs, Najane glanced back. Taylor and Maximón were speaking under a large tree.

Najane stared at Maximón for a moment before turning away. Her palm, which had gripped the sword, felt like it was burning, but as always, she desperately concealed her pain.

________________________________________

“What do you plan to do with that girl, Mash?”

Once Najane and Olkoni were out of earshot, Taylor asked in a serious tone.

Maximón responded with a cold smile.

“I’m going to raise her as my knight.”

It was the answer Taylor had expected.

She looked up at the dense leaves above them.

“You’ve always had a good eye for talent—Jacob, Belshua, Daniel… But this time, you’re wrong.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Najane, you see… if she continues to use aura like that, she won’t live long.”

Maximón’s eyebrow twitched. This was an unexpected turn. He wanted to refute Taylor’s words but chose instead to remain silent and watch her.

Taylor, pacing beneath the tree, recalled the aura technique Najane had used. That wasn’t the kind of skill one could simply imitate. If it were, all Sword Masters would have freely copied one another’s techniques.

“She does have natural talent,” Taylor admitted.

More accurately, it was likely a hereditary ability. The Powley family of Elgort was a prestigious house with a long history, renowned for producing Sword Masters over centuries. Nellis Powley had once sworn chastity to the queen, but if he had secretly fathered a child…

Taylor turned to Maximón.

“The technique Najane used is called the Powley style. It was developed exclusively by the Sword Masters of the Powley family in Elgort. I don’t know how she learned it, but if I were her master, I would have forbidden her from ever using aura again.”

With that, Taylor unsheathed her sword and unleashed her own aura at the straw bundles Najane had cut. Taylor’s aura moved so quickly and powerfully that it was invisible to Maximón’s eyes. It split the straw bundles into dozens of pieces, and the force shattered the brick wall on the far side.

Dust rose thickly from the ground where the aura had passed. Maximón looked down at the massive claw-like marks gouged into the training ground floor.

“This is what aura is. Even for an old woman like me, its power is this immense. But that girl…”

Sheathing her sword, Taylor let out a short sigh.

“Children born with weak hearts often use aura like that.”

Taylor’s words sent a chilling clarity through Maximón’s mind. Had his plan to use Najane to please Edwin fallen apart? Or was it something else…

An unknown anger surged within him. His jaw clenched, the muscles in his hardened face tightening.

“What will happen if she continues to use aura?”

“She won’t live for another two years. She’ll meet a miserable end, with no energy left in her body.”

“…”

“So don’t let her hold a sword. If she ends up fighting against the Serith, she’ll unconsciously use aura. Surely you’re not planning to drag that girl into hell just to satisfy your own greed?”

Taylor knew how much Maximón was obsessed with Edwin’s approval and affection. Despite being hailed as a hero of Noctis Fortress and earning the respect of many, it still wasn’t enough for him.

All because of Lucas. Maximón despised Lucas—an emotion far too profound to be captured by mere hatred. It was a monumental loathing, seething with contempt. He wanted Edwin to abandon his expectations of Lucas and instead cherish him. But such a desire could never come true.

“Now that I think about it, Najane resembles Rachel. Rachel, too, had extraordinary talent…”

Taylor’s low voice trailed off as she gazed at the shattered wall. Maximón didn’t respond. He merely stared at Taylor with a gaze darker than ever before.

Taylor, noticing Maximón’s expression, let out a bitter laugh.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know, Mash. Rachel is your fiancée.”

“I haven’t seen her in over three years. She’s probably dead by now.”

Maximón’s cold and indifferent response made Taylor chuckle lightly, though there was a hint of bitterness in her laughter. Rachel had been the woman who almost became Taylor’s final apprentice. She could have become the most perfect Sword Master of all, but she had been forced to lay down her sword due to an incurable disease.

Tilting her head back, Taylor looked up at the clear sky. It was hard to believe they were waging a brutal war against the Serith on such a beautiful day.

“If fate brought her to you, take care of that girl as best as you can. Don’t let yourself regret it later.”

Taylor’s voice carried sincere advice, born of her understanding of Maximón. But Maximón didn’t reply. He only stared silently in the direction where Najane had disappeared, his gaze calm yet darker than ever.