“Maximilian? How on earth… Wait, no—does your presence here mean Maximilian is already dead? More importantly, why are your eyes…?”
The man standing before me was unmistakably the Maximilian I knew. The branch leader of Mosul’s mercenary guild, nothing more than a powerless mid-level manager.
My instincts screamed that this Maximilian—the one who had just shared an emotional embrace with me—was the same person I remembered. Yet this place felt like some kind of afterlife. A garden and temple believed to belong to the god Elon.
Could I truly trust my “swordmaster” intuition or sixth sense here? And why were both of Maximilian’s eyes gouged out?
Perhaps something had happened in Mosul after we left, and for reasons unknown to me, both Priest Moriah and Branch Leader Maximilian had died.
But wasn’t this the heavenly realm ruled by Elon, god of healing and compassion?
Then why did Maximilian’s empty sockets hold only pitch-black darkness, like lightless caves? Where had his eyes gone…?
This is…!
First came shock, then joy, and now an incomprehensible fear of the unknown swallowed me like a mountain of skulls.
Even as I reached out, begging for salvation from this endless peak of death, the thick darkness merely stared back in silence.
My breath caught. A nightmare stormed through me—the possibility that I might truly be dead.
Priest Moriah had said I was neither fully dead nor alive.
In that case, perhaps “I” was in the process of dying.
…What was I doing before this? Who was I? I feel like I was in the middle of something important… I, I…
“Paramir?”
“…!”
Maximilian’s gentle voice snapped me awake as he placed a hand on my shoulder. I came to my senses. We were sitting face-to-face in the branch leader’s office at Mosul’s mercenary guild. Just like always.
Maximilian’s gouged eyes had returned to their original bright, transparent blue.
…Returned? What did that even mean? Had Maximilian ever suffered such a horrific injury in the first place?
The hazy feeling of having just woken from sleep made everything feel real, yet I still thrashed as if trapped in a dream.
“You still seem a bit hungover, Captain Paramir.”
“Ah, ah… Sorry about that, Branch Leader Maximilian. I ended up drinking late into the night yesterday. Very unlike me…”
“I understand. You had every reason to celebrate. Didn’t His Lordship the Margrave come in person to congratulate you?”
“…Ah.”
Right, that was it… Memories of yesterday flooded back. I now understood why I, usually so coldly observant, was acting so befuddled.
The day before, we had defended Mosul from the Demon King’s Army invasion.
The Black Tail Mercenaries under my command had succeeded in eliminating one of the terrifying beings known as the “Four Heavenly Kings”—a major pillar of the Demon King’s forces.
It was thanks to my dear Black Tails that we accomplished it, but when it came to the greatest contribution in Mosul’s defense, it ultimately fell to me.
We tended to the damage caused by the invasion and enjoyed a modest yet splendid victory banquet. The lingering grogginess was simply from drinking too much.
“Congratulations, Mercenary Captain Paramir. Or should I say Knight Captain now? His Lordship the Margrave announced that the mercenary band would be formally incorporated into the order. This will go down in imperial history.”
“Ah… Right. I received my knighthood yesterday… didn’t I?”
“Haha, you still haven’t fully shaken off the thrill of victory and wine. Even if Sir Paramir remembers it hazily, the rest of us remember clearly, so there’s no need to worry. Swordmaster Sir Paramir. The pride of Mosul—no, the pride of the entire empire among knights!”
Thud! Branch Leader Maximilian, who had been leisurely sipping tea with his usual refined dignity, suddenly stood.
Like an actor reaching the climax of a performance, he struck an exaggerated pose and began reenacting the events of last night.
Step, step, step. The confident climb up the stairs—Maximilian playing “me”—as I ascended the platform.
Waiting there was the Margrave of Mosul, greeting me with a face brimming with pride. We shook hands, embraced willingly, and he even kissed my cheeks while repeatedly expressing Elon’s blessings and loyalty to His Imperial Majesty in many words.
Watching the branch leader’s impromptu performance brought yesterday’s events rushing back. Ah, yes. That’s how it went…
Last night, he had recounted my achievements—the glorious battle and the feats of repelling the Demon King’s horrific invasion—one by one, exaggerating them even more than I myself remembered.
I nearly passed out from boredom, but Jasmine, gripping my arm firmly, kept me from falling backward.
Yesterday’s events grew clearer. I could still vividly feel the warmth of Jasmine’s arm against mine, a warmth that could not possibly be fake.
Ah, yes. I remembered… After receiving my knighthood from His Lordship the Margrave yesterday, I had pledged to become his shadow…
“Yes, that’s right. It’s coming back to me now. I must have been far too drunk.”
I waved my arm to stop the performance, which had become too embarrassing to watch any longer (sorry as I felt toward Maximilian).
“I completely understand. Mercenary Captain—no, Sir Paramir. You were everyone’s hero yesterday. The valiant warrior who halted the Demon King’s Army rampage. Without you, Mosul would have fallen. No—it absolutely would have.”
“What a frightening thing to say. Even without me, Mosul would have stood strong.”
“Excessive humility can become poison. By the way, we settled on next week for the date, correct?”
“The date…?”
“Ah, you’ve forgotten that too. Didn’t you announce in front of everyone that you would marry Lady Jasmine? Surely you’re not saying you don’t remember now?”
“Ah.”
As Maximilian playfully smacked my shoulder with affectionate mischief, the memory returned.
Embarrassment made me lower my head. Heat surged through my body, my ears burning hot—probably making me look like a ripe red apple at the end of autumn in the branch leader’s eyes.
Regardless, once the embarrassment faded, my mind cleared. I remembered what else I had done yesterday after receiving my knighthood from His Lordship.
Something I had been too ashamed and uncertain of myself to do until now—I had finally done it.
I had proposed to Jasmine. To her. To my love.
“And Lady Jasmine accepted your ring. It was truly magnificent—an utterly beautiful moment! My goodness, Sir Paramir’s proposal, the one who made countless maidens of Mosul weep! Torture for the women, a blessing for the men, wouldn’t you say? Perdual and Tenok said they support your marriage more than anyone.”
“…Those guys would say that.”
“Haha.”
Considering all the women who threw themselves at me wherever I went, officially becoming someone’s “husband” would be good not only for the Black Tails who trusted and followed me, but also for Mosul’s marriageable young men and women.
No matter the excuses I made, the owner of my heart was only one person.
Watching Maximilian, unusually excitable, repeatedly perform scenes from last night and the days before, my hazy memories gradually sharpened.
Along with my feelings for Jasmine.
“Oh dear. I worry I’ve taken too much of your precious time. Lady Jasmine must be waiting. My apologies, Sir Paramir.”
Maximilian, caught up in his enthusiasm, laughed heartily and bowed his head.
I shook his hand and parted ways. As I descended from the branch leader’s office, our proud Black Tails waiting in the lobby greeted me.
Crowds of people—there solely to see “me,” the “hero of Mosul”—had gathered inside and outside the building in a sea of faces.
“Everyone, please step back a little! Our hero of Mosul needs to go see his beloved Lady Jasmine, doesn’t he?”
“Wahaha—!!”
Perdual winked with one eye and teased me mischievously. Seeing my face flush red, the crowd laughed even louder than before.
The tavern owner, who had brought barrels of ale in advance, shouted a toast to my name and to Lady Jasmine’s happy marriage.
Toast—! The Black Tails drank an extra two free cups each, and though Tenok repeatedly urged me to down mine in one refreshing gulp in front of everyone, I refused.
On the way back to Jasmine, it was fine to have a flushed face from embarrassment, but I didn’t want to return with one flushed from alcohol and loss of control.
“How romantic of you. Then I suppose there’s no helping it. I’ll have to drink this one!”
“Tenok, you coward! That was mine!”
“Free alcohol has no owner!”
As Tenok and Perdual wrestled over the free drink meant for me, some of it inevitably splashed onto my face.
“Ah, sorry, Captain.”
“It’s not Captain anymore—it’s Sir Paramir. You received your knighthood yesterday.”
I shook my head. Seeing them act as they always did felt comforting instead.
“No need to mind it. Since when have we ever lived with dignity?”
“That’s our Captain!”
“That’s exactly why we follow him!”
“Just don’t get so drunk you cause trouble.”
“Got it!”
Shaking my head at their reliably cheerful response, I left the mercenary guild.
In the distance, the city walls were collapsed and shattered in places from the Demon King’s Army invasion, yet the faces of people walking the streets were bright and cheerful.
Damaged roads and mansions lined every path, but workers were already busy with reconstruction from early morning, sweating profusely.
“Hello!” “Sir Paramir!” “Hero of Mosul!” “Slayer of the Demon King’s Army!” People cheered like fervent fans of an idol group, and some women wore expressions as if they had fallen in love.
When I went to buy flowers for Jasmine, the shopkeeper girl refused to take my money. After I simply said “thank you,” she swayed and nearly collapsed on the spot.
…I had no idea how to handle such intense reactions I had never experienced before.
“Good heavens.”
Lord Elon! I had prayed only that people would greet me warmly and smile when they saw me!
I have enemies, yes—but isn’t this a bit much?
Of course, considering I defeated one of the Demon King’s Army’s Four Heavenly Kings—the terrifying hammer-wielding Surabar—it was an understandable reaction…
…Hammer Surabar?
Was there a Heavenly King by that name? A sudden doubt made me tilt my head, but as always, the bothersome thought drifted away in Mosul’s breeze.
Hands full with baskets and boxes overflowing with gifts from the people, I knocked on the door of the home where my lover—my one and only lady in life—was waiting.
“Jasmine.”
The door opened, and Jasmine, wearing an apron and white kitchen cap, threw herself into my arms. Flowers and baskets rolled across the floor, but neither of us cared.
“Paramir, welcome home.”
Smack. Her lips were sweet. As always.