Chapter 34: A Dragon Rises from the Stream (2)

Who is the strongest swordsman on the Prima Continent?

Whenever idle gossips raise that question, one name is always mentioned without fail.

Regenshauer Krantz.

The unparalleled swordsman who single-handedly annihilated a thousand elite knights of the renowned Bloodhand Knight Order, thereafter earning the nickname “Thousand-Man Slayer.”

Mysteriously, at the height of his fame he vanished without a trace.

Befitting a character with such extraordinary setting, he only steps fully onto the stage starting from Part 2 of Reca Chronicles.

And when speaking of Regenshauer, there is one story that can never be omitted: his relationship with the Sword Saint, Edval Heimfjord.

Edval is one of the Triple Star and is regarded as the strongest individual warrior among all the Continent’s Twelve Heroes.

It is a pity for the loud-mouthed gossips, but the periods and regions in which Regenshauer and Edval were active slightly differed.

Thus, there is no direct evidence to compare the two.

Yet ranking is human nature.

For martial artists, debating the superiority of these two men—who never crossed blades—has always been a perfect way to kill time, and even now, unproductive arguments continue across the continent about who would win.

And interestingly enough…

To the inhabitants of this world it is not publicly known, but to readers like me there is one setting that was revealed quite clearly.

Namely… that Regenshauer and Edval once met for some reason and fought a single duel.

The result was a draw.

However, Regenshauer believed that if the duel had been to the death, he would have lost.

Afterward, he devoted himself to training in order to achieve a complete victory over Edval.

In the midst of that, he accidentally grasped a clue to reaching a new realm as a swordsman.

To fully seize that opportunity, he had to travel to a faraway foreign land.

Before setting out, he visited the foster mother who had taken in and raised him—an orphan.

And he entrusted her with the beloved sword he had used until then.

A weapon nicknamed the “sword without a blade.”

In the main story it is only mentioned and never appears, but the setting book describes it in detail; it was a sword imbued with extremely unique and useful functions.

There had even been foreshadowing that the “sword without a blade” would reappear in the main story someday…

But of course, it was just a MacGuffin.

And today, I was going to recover that MacGuffin.

Following Claude’s guidance, we plunged deep into the pleasure district.

I glanced sideways at Chesa, who had draped a robe over herself.

She was staring with open curiosity at the provocative advertisements of the entertainment establishments all around.

Having spent nearly half her life in the stifling environment of the Crimson Tower’s educational institution, it was only natural she found such a morally loose place fascinating.

As expected of a cool beauty.

She didn’t seem particularly repulsed, which was a relief.

Chesa seemed to have roughly guessed my feelings.

She sidled up and whispered in my ear,

“I was wondering what a pleasure district would be like, but compared to our family’s basement, this place seems almost wholesome. I’ve never actually gone inside, so I can’t say for sure.”

Ah, I had forgotten about Duke Elvio’s basement.

Since the errand was important, I had been prepared for a slight drop in favorability by bringing her here, but if she had truly looked at me like I was a bug, my mental state would have shattered.

Even our guide Claude wore an expression that said he couldn’t tell if this was a dream or reality.

Well, guiding a ducal lady through the pleasure district would do that to a man.

Eventually Claude turned into an alley.

After walking another five minutes or so, an utterly unremarkable tavern appeared.

“This is the place. The owner reacted to the story you told, Young Master—something about ‘Lesha’ or a ‘sword without a blade.’”

Claude pointed to a tavern with a sign reading “Vilberet.”

We entered Vilberet and were led to a parlor deep inside.

Thanks to Claude’s personal efforts over the past three days, we were immediately granted an audience with the owner.

The person who greeted us was an old woman who looked well past seventy.

“I greet the legitimate heir of the Levish count family, rulers of Licht territory.”

“Pleased to meet you. You must be the owner of this establishment?”

“That is correct.”

Claude quietly stepped behind me.

The old woman, too, seemed to realize who the center of our group was and cautiously looked at me.

I bowed as politely as possible.

“It is an honor to meet you, Old Lady.”

“…!”

My extreme courtesy elicited looks of shock from the other three.

But I did not consider this posture excessive.

She had probably guessed why I came—this old woman was none other than the foster mother of the Thousand-Man Slayer.

Through Regenshauer’s flashbacks in the story, it was said that she had recognized the talent of the boy born in the slums and spared no effort to support him.

Because of that, the bond between them had been deep.

The old woman spoke, greatly flustered,

“T-This is too much. I do not know Your Highness’s exact identity, but even at a glance you appear to be born of a very high noble house. To bow to a worthless old woman like me…”

“You are the parent who raised an unparalleled swordsman.

As one who walks the path of martial arts, it is only proper I show at least this much respect.”

“Hmm…”

The old woman’s eyes sank deep.

Then she looked at me with suspicion.

Her connection to Regenshauer was not publicly known.

She herself had kept silent to hide that her foster son had been born an orphan in the pleasure district.

Reflecting that, even in the novel and setting book his origins were only vaguely mentioned.

Most readers merely inferred he came from some pleasure district in the north or central regions, but I—who had reread the novel countless times and memorized the setting—could go one step further than vague guesses.

While flipping through the timeline, I had noticed that Regenshauer first made his name around this area and concluded there was a high chance he was from the principality.

And the most famous pleasure district in the Stroke principality was right here in Licht.

Thus, after making inquiries through Claude, the thread finally reached this place.

A moment to feel proud as a devoted reader.

Suddenly she asked me,

“I heard you are looking for the sword without a blade.

If I may be rude, where did you hear about that item?”

Caution glinted in her eyes.

To smoothly receive the item I sought, I needed this elder’s goodwill—so from here on was crucial.

I smiled and answered,

“I heard it from Master Lesha himself.

He also told me about you, Lady Larisa.”

“I-Is that true!?”

The old woman—Larisa—shot up from her seat.

It was understandable; she was hearing news of her foster son after nearly twenty years.

“…Young Master, what on earth is going on?”

Claude stared at us with wide eyes.

Linia and Chesa also clearly had no idea what was happening, even if they didn’t voice it.

Of course—‘Lesha’ was a nickname used only among close acquaintances, so they could never guess it was a keyword related to the Thousand-Man Slayer.

Partly to throw some intriguing bait to my companions, I spoke to Larisa,

“In the past, Master Regenshauer told me he was transferring ownership of the item called the ‘sword without a blade’ to me.

I wish to ask you—who are connected to it—about its whereabouts.”

“…I can’t believe it. If you truly met Lesha, he could have come himself to retrieve the sword without a blade—yet you ask me where it is?”

She looked at me suspiciously.

In truth, the claim of having met Regenshauer was a lie, so I did feel a slight prick of conscience.

But I had prepared for this as well.

I deliberately put on an expression of utmost grievance and answered,

“I had no choice. He said he left his sword somewhere in the principality but—well, explaining the details was too bothersome, so he told me to find it myself. Quite the amusing fellow, isn’t he?”

“…I see.”

Hearing that, Larisa gave a faint smile.

She must have felt the nostalgia of her carefree foster son in my story.

“It does feel somewhat credible, but I still cannot take your words at face value.

If it’s not too much trouble, could you tell me about your relationship with Lesha and a few anecdotes of meeting him?”

“Of course.”

I brought out the story I had prepared in advance.

First, that I was the second son of the Grand Ducal House, and that I came to know Regenshauer through my great-uncle, one of the Continent’s Twelve Heroes.

After we became close, he said the sword without a blade was no longer necessary for him and transferred ownership to me.

The part about a connection between my great-uncle and Regenshauer was a complete fabrication, but given the weight of the title “Twelve Heroes,” it wasn’t an unbelievable story.

Also, while weaving the tale, I appropriately used lines and inner thoughts of Regenshauer that appeared in the original Reca Chronicles.

Having practically memorized the setting book, I knew Regenshauer as well as—or perhaps better than—Larisa, so my testimony carried considerable realism.

In the end, Larisa had no choice but to believe me completely.

There’s a saying that the most effective lies are cleverly mixed with truth.

A truly useful proverb.

Of course, there were minor holes here and there, but for Larisa—a mere tavern owner—the information available to her was too limited to spot them.

Feeling the atmosphere grow warm, I changed the subject.

As a devoted reader of Reca Chronicles, there was one personal curiosity I wanted to satisfy.

“Larisa, if it’s all right, could you tell me about Regenshauer’s boyhood?

I am personally very interested.”

“Fufu, I have only been listening to Your Highness’s stories—how rude of me.

As you wish, I will tell you about Lesha.”

According to Larisa,

The child she had taken in out of pity—Regenshauer rummaging through trash at a young age—had shown extraordinary talent for swordsmanship even as a boy.

Using only introductory mind-methods circulating in the marketplace and sword techniques copied by watching others, he combined them into his own style and beat seven local thugs senseless… at the tender age of nine.

Larisa actively supported this genius to the fullest.

She spent a fortune to apprentice him under a retired knight.

Yet absurdly, within a single year Regenshauer surpassed his master and returned home.

“And around that time, Lesha became extremely arrogant.

He went around the neighborhood boasting that with his talent, the Continent’s Twelve Heroes were nothing.”

“…Well, he wasn’t wrong, so I have nothing to say.”

The average level of the Twelve Heroes is only the early to mid-50s, after all.

It was an anecdote far removed from the cold, composed image Regenshauer showed in the novel, but considering he had grown strong without much effort until his draw with Sword Saint Edval, it wasn’t an incomprehensible past.

And despite that, he still went on to break dojos across the continent and slaughter a thousand elite knights—truly a monstrous talent.

“But for some reason, about twenty years ago he suddenly became quiet and serious.

It was shortly afterward that he told me it would soon become difficult to visit me.”

Right after his duel with the Sword Saint.

And according to the timeline, the next thing that happened was…

“When he visited me for the last time, there was a beautiful young girl by his side. When he introduced her as the woman he would marry, I was truly shocked. And that was the last time I ever saw him.”

“By any chance… was his fiancée a woman who looked incredibly youthful, with long hair of an unusual color?”

At my words, Larisa’s eyes widened as she answered,

“Yes. It seems you have met her as well?”

I’ve never met her in person, but I know exactly who she is.

Honestly, this is very unexpected.

When I heard he had someone to marry, I thought “no way,” but for that woman to have come all the way here just to greet her future mother-in-law…

“…It seems our conversation has grown long.

Child, bring me that box kept in the deepest vault.”

She pointed to one of the employees and gave the order.

Soon a small box was placed in Larisa’s hands.

“…In truth, I have had the sword without a blade from the very beginning.

Please forgive me for testing you.

It contains memories of my foster son, so deep down I did not want to let it go.”

After gazing at the box for a moment, she handed it to me.

“…Lesha said he would probably never come back for this item himself. If that is the case, then it rightfully belongs in the hands of its new owner. Please take it.”

“The sword without a blade is inside this box?”

Larisa nodded at my question.

I gently lifted the lid of the box.

And used Appraise.