Chapter 5: A Talking Sword?

“This is absurd! How can someone with not a single drop of Weiss blood ascend to the Ducal throne!”

…Would tomorrow night be good, or should I drag it out a bit longer?

[Hey, I know you can hear me! If you’re listening, answer me!]

“However, it is also true that the Holy Sword chose the Grand Duchess. Can we simply ignore tradition for that reason?”

Is there really a need to deliberate?

Whether I die tomorrow or the day after, my reputation after death isn’t my concern.

[You… if you keep pretending not to hear, I’ll grab your hand and perform swordsmanship wildly! I’ll hammer it in that you’re the head of the family!]

“That very tradition caused this mess! Why on earth was someone who can’t even hold a sword properly chosen as the heir!?”

Anyway, since people like that are passionately arguing, they’ll probably handle the aftermath reasonably well.

Wouldn’t it be suitable material?

Pressure from surroundings and a frail young girl—

[Aaargh, stop talking about dying!! Why won’t you listen to me and keep going on like that!!]

“Your words are harsh. Are you calling the legitimate choice of the Holy Sword a mess? Even if we cannot understand it, the Holy Sword’s choice is the choice—”

Bang—!

“This is a matter of rationality, not understanding! Did you not just see the Grand Duchess fail to even hold the sword properly and cut her own forehead!?

Even if the Grand Duchess surpasses the Grand Duke’s son in strategy, everyone knows the position of Grand Duke Weiss isn’t established by intellect alone!!!”

…So, a good—

“She’s never held a sword before, so that could happen! How can you jump to conclusions based only on the immediate result when it’s something that can be resolved by teaching her gradually!?”

[No, normally, being grateful just to hear me and listening attentively should be the default, but why only this kid]

……A good—

“It’s not a problem that ends with just wielding it well! Do you truly believe the Grand Duchess will be able to move it gracefully even after learning the sword?!

Any vassal of the duchy should know the Grand Duchess is not in good health, so why do you cling to outdated customs and try to ruin the future!”

[—Even though I’m a Holy Sword, a part of the Main God, why is only this kid treating me like this, really, the suitable person I finally met, I’m so upset, who can I even complain to—]

………Goo—

“Are you now trying to dismiss the will of God as merely an outdated custom? How can you utter such disrespectful words in the presence of the Cardinal—”

Ah.

So noisy.

Should I cut out their tongues before I die?

Yes, thinking of it as a final act of deviance, it might actually be quite amusing.

Though even that would likely be incredibly bothersome.

I blur my focus, distancing my consciousness from reality for a moment.

It was a place so noisy that listening any longer threatened to make resentment boil over.

After my hand finally lifted Batory, a grand meeting was immediately convened to discuss the matter.

Since all the duchy’s nobles were already gathered, and given the circumstances, there was no proper excuse to be absent, the opening proceeded very quickly.

The problem was that I, who originally came forward in the role of transferor and not as a candidate for heir, was chosen—

“#@%@#!!”

—and opinions were fiercely divided about it, leaving me in a state beyond despair, reaching self-loathing for my own failure.

If I had known this would happen, I should have brought a few things I made as a hobby.

Then I could have ended my life without needing to use Batory.

Of course, because I left them behind thinking it would be a light trip, not only do I have to listen to this damn conversation, but I’ll likely lose several more hours.

Even if I dislike being thorough in every moment, for an incident like this, I should have momentarily shed my laziness.

Or instead of using the holy sword, perhaps I could have broken the vial rolling on the floor and used it as a tool for suicide.

If only I had made my brother slightly more cunning, if only I had considered the ‘what ifs’ even a little, it would have been better.

But futilely regretting, it was my own complete choice to lie in the embrace of laziness that cast aside preparation.

In the end, everything was my f*cking fault.

Having let go of everything, the fact that I now need to take responsibility for everything is truly complicated.

Well, at least there’s only one answer, so perhaps that’s fortunate.

If I failed to pass the buck with justification in a public setting, the quiet method of leaving a will still remained.

Once this moment ends, I’ll go to my room and—

[…Hmph, you think I’ll just let that happen? Until you listen to me, I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth and stop you!]

…Right, come to think of it, it’s not my fault.

The problem arose because this holy sword, deserving to be torn to shreds, chose me yet simultaneously blocked my own choice.

[A holy sword deserving to be torn to shreds? That’s too harsh! You’re the weird one for trying to die just because you were chosen by me!]

If you didn’t want to hear such things, you shouldn’t have chosen me.

Making a choice arbitrarily, then giving me this sh*tty feeling—I can’t understand it.

I don’t know how it speaks without a mouth, but since the sword already has a will, applying common sense was impossible.

Isn’t this a world where magic and dragons exist in the first place? Thinking about it was futile.

Everything just feels noisy.

The vassals clashing with their opinions about my selection, and even the sword beside me chattering about being the suitable one or whatever.

…Right now, I wanted to sever it all.

Simple annoyance or laziness wasn’t the primary reason.

Just because I’m a messed-up human doesn’t mean I’m someone who would easily choose death just to avoid troublesome things. I don’t possess that kind of firm resolve.

Rather, it’s precisely because I lack firm resolve that I’m closer to declaring the abandonment of life.

From my perspective of already living an unambitious life, things like the sweetness of power or the reward of labor were words that didn’t resonate with me at all.

What’s the point of diligence? What’s the point of running without a goal?

My goals, my reasons to run for life, were all concluded in my previous life.

My biological parents in this life didn’t die in a way that made them goals, and thus, there’s no one left who could serve as a signpost for my life.

Therefore, it doesn’t matter when I choose to end my life.

Honestly speaking, even if I ended up living longer than my anticipated lifespan, that wouldn’t have been a problem for me either.

What I wanted to distance myself from was the harsh duty demanding diligence and meaning.

Being fundamentally below the human minimum in the field of empathy, I was, from birth, already burdened with excessive social obligations.

Forcing facial expressions, matching the mood and situation of others—these were already excessive hardships for me.

If I had to bear new duties based on that, something simple like settling debts of gratitude or resentment would have been enough.

A position deciding the life and death of multitudes, a life that must proceed solely based on my judgment—that this was too heavy a burden for me is the result I learned tiresomely through my past life, shaping the existence I am now.

Just the implication that I might have to bear responsibility, this situation itself threatening my laziness, was enough to mold a personality filled with aversion—a process whose manufacturing period ended the moment I was reborn.

I want to rot quietly.

Just like this, praying that there would be no next life, I wanted to simply rot away peacefully.

[…You weren’t the type to be persuaded by words, damn it, why did the suitable person have to be this kid, whyyyy!]

Before that holy sword, which I desperately want to break and bury in mud, even shows signs of rusting, my wish was to scatter like dust.

No, rather than breaking the blade, perhaps bending it completely—

[Alright, alright! If you just listen to this one thing, I’ll speak quietly from now on, so stop saying such horrible things! It’s creepy from the listener’s perspective, you know?!]

Reading my thoughts without permission, yet still having no intention of flying over to my brother and just insisting on saying its piece—perhaps I need to consider something worse than bending—

[Aish! A deal, let’s make a deal! As you wish, I’ll make sure you end with this life, with no next life!!]

…Hmm.

For noisy scrap metal, it seems to be offering quite a significant deal.

[Scrap metal! I’m a Holy Sword! Originally, I’m practically a part of the Main God you should naturally serve!? If you just fulfill your role as the suitable person well, I can definitely grant your wish!]

Well, it’s not entirely unbelievable.

Certainly, among the things I made as a hobby, there were still no works comparable to that sword.

Considering most of those would be rated quite highly even in this world, the statement seemed plausible, even quite trustworthy.

And, if I consider the actual existence of a being called God just a little…

It was undeniably a deal without significant issues in accepting it.

If someone could reincarnate me, then making it impossible for me to ever reincarnate again should also be possible.

However, the problem would be what that holy sword demands in return.

Whatever it is, it’s undoubtedly true that it would be considerably bothersome.

I don’t know what being the ‘suitable person’ entails, but it surely wouldn’t be resolved by simply sitting around and killing time.

And likely, the role of Grand Duke Weiss is also included in the duties of that suitable person.

From my perspective of wanting to avoid any further obligations, this could be the worst possible choice.

What could be more ridiculous than the sight of someone trying to take on duties to avoid duties?

How trivial and laughable is the human figure trying to pave a great road to block a great boulder whose arrival isn’t even certain?

To define myself again, I was an indolent human.

Nothing was more incompatible with laziness than predicting and preparing for the future.

Therefore, from the perspective of my essential laziness, making a contract with the holy sword would likely have been as absurd as a grasshopper listening to an ant.

[……….]

…However, regrettably, it was now winter.

A winter where the worst-case scenario for me had arrived, sweeping in along with the cold blizzard that must be raging outside.

So, not before facing winter, but realizing that a situation like this could come again, thinking from the perspective of such a grasshopper.

…Hmm, huh.

The weighing is finished.

Suicide still held the advantage… but tilting the scale to the other side depended not on me, but on the one trying to persuade me.

…So, try and persuade me well.

[……Ughhh.]

If you want to completely change my mind.

***

Matheus Bogushevich.

The Cardinal of the church overseeing the entire northern region, including the Weiss Grand Duchy, and acting as the proxy for the Holy Sword Batory, was currently lost in deep thought.

The topic the nobles before him were debating, each presenting their own reasoning, was also the task assigned to the Cardinal.

The Holy Sword chose the Grand Duchess, not the Grand Duke’s son.

This was an unprecedented exception in the history of the Holy Sword, and simultaneously, an event that cast doubt upon the Holy Sword for the first time.

The Sword Seat, Batory, what kind of holy relic was it?

Among the various holy relics stored by the church, it was an entity wielding unique authority.

It was the legendary Holy Sword that cut down the monsters pouring out of the North in a single strike and carved great furrows in lands once deemed uninhabitable.

Fitting its authority, Batory’s choices had never been wrong until now.

In fact, there had never even been grounds to judge them wrong.

Those chosen by Batory, even if they seemed ordinary, were individuals without major flaws.

Even if someone far inferior to other children was occasionally chosen as heir, they weren’t flawed.

They were just ordinary, seemingly ordinary compared to others.

Even then, the moment they ascended the Ducal throne, they invariably revealed their hidden talents.

Therefore, even if there was some noise at the time of selection, they were ultimately highly evaluated for their suitability as Duke.

However, this case was different.

From the very beginning, it caused not just noise but division, because the Grand Duchess possessed a huge flaw.

The lack of Weiss blood was actually a minor issue.

Considering the first Grand Duke himself came from slavery, the position of Grand Duke was one created by choice rather than bloodline.

However, her frail health was a significant disqualifying factor.

She had trouble walking without a cane and constantly suffered from various minor ailments.

She couldn’t even hold herself upright properly if she didn’t take her medicine on time, yet the nameless chronic illness she supposedly had since birth showed no signs of healing.

She was severely unsuitable for the position of Grand Duke, who must fight at the very forefront against monsters.

Even if she possessed the talent of the greatest swordsman in history, with such physical condition, just being on the battlefield would be an immense burden.

That’s why it had to be called a flaw.

She was undoubtedly a mature and wise young lady, but as one noble had pointed out, the position of Grand Duke Weiss did not demand intellect alone.

“…Still, one cannot defy the will of God.”

Matheus could only mutter as such.

Faced with such a divine dilemma, where a choice could not be easily made, even a Cardinal was merely human.

He turned his head to look at the unchosen son of the Grand Duke.

Sitting opposite his sister, looking at her, the young Grand Duke’s face was complex beyond words.

Besides the emotions like inferiority that any human would inevitably possess, his eyes, filled with a chaotic mix of worry for his sister and other feelings, were fixed on her.

…How difficult must it be for that young child?

His mother died young, and driven by the sense of duty to become the family head, he must have idolized his father and continued his training, only for both his idol and his efforts to vanish.

When Matheus subtly asked about the possibility of the sister gaining independence as a Schwartz instead of taking the transferor role, the child had spoken with eyes full of despair, struggling to say it was okay to let his sister go.

Still needing a place to rely on, a place to be childish… such a pitiful young child.

He must have vowed to protect the sister who chose to remain his family, but now even that couldn’t be achieved smoothly—a pitiful child.

Matheus sighed quietly, then turned his gaze towards the sister this time.

She probably felt the same. No, perhaps it was even harder for her.

With her kind heart, she might think she had stolen her brother’s place, that was certainly possible…

…?

Why, is she faintly smiling—

Kwaang—!

A sword, which had resettled itself before the throne, flew forward like an arrow.

It was the familiar sword, the one that had received everyone’s attention today.

Glowing with intense blue light, it stood before the one it acknowledged as its master, and soon began to emit a sword cry powerful enough to make one’s skull resonate.

Its aura was so intense, dominating the space itself, that it was more than enough to capture the attention of the nobles still engaged in debate.

And….

“…It seems the meeting is dragging on a bit.”

The Grand Duchess Weiss, the chosen master of the sword, slowly opened her mouth.

“I would like to propose a good plan, if I may.”

Displaying an unbelievably casual composure for someone who had maintained silence all this time.

“…Will you hear me out?”