Chapter 68

The Fairy and the Young Lord

“My name is Vermelani.”

The fairy halted her horse at the fork in the road and offered a greeting.

“And this is my lord—Sir Elias, the third son of Duke Landeyar.”

She gestured to the young man standing a few steps behind her. The youth named Elias, his face still carrying traces of boyishness, wore an indifferent expression as he gave a slight nod toward Ulrich’s group.

The Duke of Landeyar? That’s a bigger figure than I expected.

It was a prestigious house, a branch of the Jokuster royal family.

Roberta’s gaze lingered on the fairy’s earring. It was a rectangular plate made of gold, engraved with the crest of the Landeyar family. It clearly indicated that the fairy belonged to that house.

“Pleasure to meet you, brothers and sisters.”

After returning the greeting, Roberta introduced Ulrich and Fritz.

“It is an honor to meet a member of such a renowned family in a place like this.”

She studied the two of them. Why would the duke’s third son be traveling alone with only a fairy?

If they were on their way to or from a noble’s invitation, their appearance was far too modest. With no other escorts, he simply rode in chainmail, looking more like a wandering knight.

“Where are you headed?”

Elias asked sharply from behind the fairy.

“We are on our way to the Kingdom of Turnia.”

“Why? It doesn’t seem like a simple journey.”

His gaze, fixed on Roberta, was sharp. She understood why—it was because she was a priest.

The Empire and the Holy Church—no, Kormilius—were in conflict.

Most priests of the Holy Church stood with Kormilius, while this young lord belonged to a branch of the Jokuster royal family. Naturally, their relationship could not be friendly. At the very least, it hadn’t escalated to drawing swords on sight.

Despite his pressing tone, she smiled.

“It is not for the reason you’re concerned about. I am accompanying this gentleman, Sir Armin, as a guest on a journey to the Pantheon.”

“A pilgrim, then?”

Elias shifted his gaze toward Ulrich.

“Hm.”

Roberta had introduced Ulrich as Armin, a noble of Osnover, and there was nothing about his outward appearance to arouse suspicion.

“To go on a pilgrimage at a time like this… quite devout.”

Elias clicked his tongue.

“If one chooses the timing of their faith, can it truly be called faith?”

“That may be true, but the timing now is particularly bad. If you’re going, you’d best hurry—or wait until much later.”

He didn’t elaborate further, but everyone present understood without needing to hear more.

Roberta expressed her thanks and was about to pull on her reins, but then stopped. It seemed the two of them intended to take the same road at the fork.

“Are you also heading to Turnia, Sir Elias?”

“Yes. I heard there’s plenty happening there, so I thought I’d stop by for a bit.”

Plenty happening?

As she blinked silently, the young man grinned and tapped the sword hanging at his waist.

“The Empire and the Pantheon are too busy fighting each other to keep things in check. Because of that, trouble is bubbling up everywhere. I’ve been hunting monsters among it all.”

“A member of the Landeyar family, doing that?”

He shrugged with a grin.

“As you heard, I’m the third son. I can’t inherit the family. And there’s not much for me to receive either. If I stay, I’d have to work under my older sister—and I don’t like that.”

What an unusual person, Roberta thought.

“Even so, you didn’t have to take up the sword.”

If Elias were an ordinary noble son, that would have been true. Typically, inheritance went to the eldest, leaving little for the younger children. Many of them entered royal courts or temples, or became mercenaries.

But choosing the life of a mercenary was rare. It meant risking one’s life constantly, with pay that was hardly generous, and wandering battlefields for a lifetime.

“I’d rather die making a name for myself than live a half-hearted life! Like His Majesty Akean’s Eleven Knights!”

But Elias had chosen that path of his own will. His family had not cast him out—he had simply chosen a harsher road.

One could tell by the fairy at his side.

A fairy loyal to the family would never follow someone who had truly abandoned it. She was here because her master had ordered her to protect him.

He’s the type who’s obsessed with adventure.

People like Elias were rare, but they existed—those who sought ancient ruins, hunted powerful monsters, and wished to make their names known far and wide.

Some called them adventurers.

Many of the adventure tales sung by bards today came from people like them. Akean and his Eleven Knights were one such ideal that adventurers aspired to.

To an adventurer, the current turmoil would appear as an opportunity. After all, tales of heroes were always born in times of chaos.

“You’ll have to find the knights first, then.”

“If I can, I will.”

Roberta suppressed the bitter smile rising within her. The person closest to what he sought—no, the very embodiment of it—was right beside him, yet Elias had no idea.

She glanced briefly at Ulrich, but he remained calm. Even when Akean and the Eleven Knights were mentioned, even when someone declared their wish to become like them, he showed no reaction.

“Young master, we should be going.”

In contrast, the fairy Vermelani’s expression was cold. She had been expressionless even during introductions, but unlike Ulrich’s calmness, hers felt more like that of an adult watching childish behavior.

If Elias had been a boy who hadn’t yet undergone his coming-of-age ceremony, it might have been different—but he was already an adult. From what she had heard, he had left home, intoxicated by dreams of adventure. It was only natural she would not look upon it favorably.

“Why? We’re still talking.”
“We can continue while moving.”

At her chilly tone, Elias let out a small groan.

“You said you’re heading to the Kingdom of Turnia, right?”
“That is the plan.”
“Then how about we go together?”

Roberta found the suggestion rather sudden.

“You’re proposing we travel together?”

The same person who had been pressing them moments ago was now suggesting companionship. Even Elias seemed aware of how odd it sounded, scratching his head awkwardly.

“Well… we’re heading the same way anyway. And at a time like this, the more people there are, the safer it is. Plus, it’d be nice to have someone to talk to, wouldn’t it?”

Roberta was certain that Elias’s last remark revealed his true intention. At a glance, the fairy seemed quiet, and her personality didn’t appear to match his at all.

What should we do?

She asked Ulrich with her eyes, and he gave a small nod.

Not long after, the five of them arrived at a village. It was called Ots, nestled between two towering mountains.

Though one might expect a place between mountains to be deserted, it actually saw a fair amount of traffic. The rugged terrain made it difficult to cross, so this path had become a notable route.

Ulrich’s group entered an inn called “The Whispering Pine.” The smell of freshly baked bread wafted out, as if inviting guests inside.

Yet upon entering, the dining hall was empty. Only the innkeeper sat at a table, quietly eating.

“Doesn’t look like there’s much going on here either.”

Elias grumbled as he took a seat at an empty table. From the moment he saw the village from below the mountain, his face had been full of anticipation—but now that they had arrived, that expectation seemed to have collapsed.

“Were you hoping for trouble?”
“Of course. Otherwise, what’s the point of coming all this way?”

Vermelani looked at him with a cold expression.

“Young master. As I’ve said many times, there won’t be any grand incidents to satisfy you. If adventures worthy of a bard’s tale were common, would they even be worth telling?”

Elias avoided her gaze and pouted.

“That’s why I’m going around looking for them.”
“No amount of wandering will create problems where there are none. It is about time you return to the main house. The duke must be worried.”
“As if my sister would worry.”
“Young master.”

At her firm tone, Elias pretended not to hear and stood up.

“Wait here. I’ll go take a look around.”

Saying he would search for work, he left the inn. The fairy stood up to follow, but hesitated at his sharp warning.

At that, Ulrich gestured with his chin toward Fritz, signaling him to follow.

After the two left, Vermelani sat back down and let out a short breath—a sigh.

“You have it hard.”

Ulrich said as he paid the innkeeper and brought over an iron kettle from the hearth. He placed teacups before each of them and poured tea.

“No… the young master is simply still immature.”

“Is there anyone who doesn’t seem immature from your people’s perspective?”

“That may be true, but Lord Elias truly is young. By human standards, only a few years have passed since his coming-of-age ceremony.”

The fairy lifted her teacup, then flinched at the scent. It was pine-flower tea—the sharp aroma must have struck her nose. A flicker of hesitation crossed her face, and she set the cup back down.

“Still, even so, once one has undergone the coming-of-age ceremony, aren’t they considered a proper adult?”

“I have watched over Lord Elias since he was a baby. I know him well. He still belongs under the protection of his family.”

Roberta sensed a change in Vermelani’s tone. In front of Elias, she had been cold, but now that he was gone, her voice carried firmness—and concern.

“What is the name of your clan?”
“‘Erelbur.’ But why do you ask?”

“Something came to mind.”

Ulrich murmured the name Erelbur several times, holding his teacup as he thought. Soon, he took a sip and spoke.

“If my memory serves me right, the Erelbur clan were meritorious retainers who helped found the Isturia Dynasty. Because of that, they became one of the most prosperous non-human lineages. Are you aware of that?”

Instead of answering, she narrowed her eyes.

“And prosperity does not simply mean an increase in wealth.”

Ulrich continued.

“It means the growth of the clan’s numbers, the spreading of its blood beyond the clan, and even making those outside the clan desire to have that blood flow within them.”

Many humans had taken in the blood of fairies. The desire for the blood of long-lived races had always been widespread.

“And so that blood passed from one to another, eventually reaching Isturia itself. Thanks to that, your people survived.”

“…You seem quite knowledgeable about history. Those records have even been omitted from the scriptures and largely forgotten.”

“I learned it… unintentionally.”

Because he had lived long enough. Not learned history—but witnessed it. Of course, she could not possibly imagine that.

Ulrich paused, looking down at his teacup. It was as if memories long buried deep within him were rising to the surface.

“Now I remember clearly. Erelbur… that child liked humans. A peculiar one. That is why his descendants cannot help but feel less resistance toward mixing blood with humans.”

“What are you saying?”

At Vermelani’s sharp question, Ulrich lifted his head.

“What is your relationship with that child?”

At that moment, she fell silent. But she couldn’t stop her eyes from widening—nor the slight tremor in them.

“I’ll ask again. Vermelani—how many generations above that child are you?”