Ch.236Report on the Downfall of Restraint (1)

# A Handshake

A handshake is a universal greeting exchanged not only among nobles and knights but also among wandering merchants and common people.

Though its exact origin remains unclear, the most plausible theory suggests it began as a ritual among warriors who carried weapons, to show others “I have no weapon in my hand, I mean you no harm.”

Taking the handshake one step further is the custom known as the “Veneration of the Sword.”

Originally, one would plant their weapon upside down before another and step back, but when circumstances don’t allow, simply setting it down and stepping back suffices. In either case, the handle must point toward the sky or toward the other person.

This signifies: “I surrender my defense. Furthermore, I entrust my life to your hands. Should you wish to kill me, I will not resist.” It is, in essence, a most emphatic form of surrender.

This is why the expression “demands the Veneration of the Sword” often appears when describing tyrants.

It’s not simply the pressure of saying “Your life belongs to me,” but rather the humiliation of forcing someone to express “My life depends on you” of their own accord.

Naturally, one who treats their subjects, generals, and people in such a manner cannot expect a good end.

Thus, the Veneration of the Sword has become one of the ceremonies that even those in power, including His Imperial Majesty himself, find uncomfortable.

Consequently, the Veneration of the Sword has become a noble ceremony offered solely to express respect and reverence, and only when there is absolutely no other way to express such sentiments.

The most well-known example is former Imperial Commander-in-Chief Niki Brien, who performed the Veneration of the Sword before Crown Prince Joannes.

Thanks to this action, which clearly demonstrated whom not only he but the entire Imperial army supported, the Empire was able to heal from a period of turmoil and become unified once again.

However, there is a little-known story behind this incident that I would like to share.

At that time, Crown Prince Joannes was staying in the inner palace. It is famous for its floor covered with extremely rare bluish marble tiles.

It is a clear fact that Niki Brien and his subordinates “planted” their swords into the stone floor while performing the Veneration of the Sword.

The Imperial sword embedded in the blue marble is still on display in the Imperial garden, so anyone with permission to enter can view it freely.

However, no one who was present, not even Niki Brien himself, could ever replicate this feat.

This is particularly strange considering that he rose to the position of Commander-in-Chief not through exceptional physical strength but through his genius for tactical command and troop management.

Was it simply the result of luck and coincidence? Perhaps. All manner of strange and wonderful things happen in life.

But that cannot be the whole story.

Niki Brien’s decision went beyond simply supporting his wife’s brother as Emperor.

It was an act of betraying his beloved wife, who had recognized his potential when he was just a low-ranking officer from an unremarkable family, who had proposed to him first, and who had promised him a position as co-Emperor.

Understanding his situation makes it all the more intriguing.

Did Niki Brien pierce the stone floor with his sword to express his immense anguish, or to demonstrate his determination?

Either way, we cannot distinguish between the two.

Had his anguish not been so great, there would have been no need to demonstrate such determination. Or perhaps it was because his determination was so great that he could bear such immense anguish.

– From “Basic Education for Growing Noble Children,” by Professor Osrant Koch of the Department of Literature and Arts, Southern Imperial Academy

* * * * *

There was light.

A single beam split the darkness and divided the earth from the sky.

But the blue sky where the sun walks was covered by dark clouds.

Even on cloudy days there can be clarity, but in this northern wasteland, dull gray snowflakes fall endlessly. With such a sky, neither moon nor stars can be seen.

Then where did this light come from?

What could shine so clearly and brilliantly from one boundary to the other?

It came from the hand of a man who had finally arrived where he belonged after a long, winding journey.

The demon sword, Hope.

To those in despair, it shines all the more brilliantly, but being so desperately desired, it becomes too heavy and burdensome.

It raises those who lie as if dead and drives them forward, yet urges and pushes them until their hearts might burst.

It can be gazed upon but not grasped. And the moment it is grasped and pulled down into reality, it loses its light and shatters. That is hope.

Hope is relentless.

The beasts of the sky and the angels of the earth, the monsters who threw themselves into hatred and those bound by curses to remain on earth—all could not take their eyes off that potent thing.

Yet the one who actually held that hope remained motionless, standing still in plain steel armor.

Anyone who has held a lamp in darkness knows. A circle of light forms around the person holding the lamp, distinguishing what can be seen from what lies beyond.

Hope and despair are like that too. No one dislikes hope. They simply fear it.

At the boundary between light and darkness, they wonder if they can take one step further.

Can I enter that brilliant world? Isn’t it better to remain in the comfortable, dim world of darkness than to step into the light and face humiliation?

The beasts swallowed dry saliva but could not cross that boundary.

“This belongs to you,” said Kairos, raising the sword. A beam of light cut through the horde of beasts. The frightened creatures parted.

“This originally belonged to you. All that the world took from you has gathered here, and now I return it to you. Take back your hope yourselves.”

They growled and threatened, but dared not advance.

It was frightening. Hope is always frightening. They knew that to move forward required taking risks. They also knew they might fail.

But that was bearable. What was unbearable was the reflection of themselves.

Their own pitiful, broken image. The lonely self-portrait of sweeping up a shattered, disappointed heart.

That’s why no one could approach.

Kairos raised the sword. He lifted that sword, which extended beyond the edge of vision, with such ease.

Because he was a complete outsider.

This hope was not his. This fate was not his.

Therefore, he could remain detached. He was free because he was bound to nothing. Because he could remain detached, he could do what needed to be done.

Kairos struck the sword against the ground. The beasts howled. They meant to ask what he was doing. But the black knight struck again, and yet again.

Hope shattered. It broke into countless pieces. Hopes smaller than broken pottery glittered on the ground.

The beasts howled as they accepted the small, humble hopes. With moans, they gathered them in their hands, offered them to the sky, and looked resentfully at the knight who had broken hope.

And then they saw. The knight was holding the sword upside down.

Kairos thrust the shining sword into the ground. He pushed it in, pushed it in, pushed it in further. All the way to the end of the hilt, he pushed it in.

The snowfall grew heavier. As the light sank into the ground, darkness descended. But something strange happened. As the darkness deepened, the hope in the beasts’ hands shone even more brilliantly.

It was not something grand, massive, or overwhelming. It was small and dainty enough to cover with one’s hand.

Yet it was brilliant. Just enough to endure. Just enough to withstand. Just enough to bear.

And just enough to consume.

It was an angel with an eagle’s head on a human body. No two beasts looked exactly alike, but this one had particular trouble. All four of its feet were bird beaks, making it impossible to hold the small orb of light.

With no other choice, it firmly held the light in its beak. Then, a soft glow spread across the ground, emanating from the sword thrust upside down into the earth.

Heaven and earth were inverted. Light was not above the head but beneath the feet. Not in the unreachable heavens but in the ground they stood upon. Anyone who wished could kneel and touch it.

Whether it was done inadvertently or because it was pushed by something larger beside it is unclear. What is certain is that the angel with the light in its beak suddenly swallowed it with a gulp.

In its shock, it screamed. At the sudden cry, the beasts turned to look at the angel.

Finding itself the center of attention, the angel, not knowing what to do, tripped over its own feet and fell backward. It threw itself into the light on the ground.

Then its beak fell off.

Not just the beak. The bird’s claws that had been so inconvenient, the wings on its back that had sometimes been so heavy it had to swallow its cries, and the flesh that had driven it to suffer with eternal hunger—all fell away.

What remained was the naked form of a human. It was utterly plain, as if molded from clay and carefully wiped with wet hands.

But inside it, a hope that it could bear glimmered.

The human seemed to gaze vacantly at the hope within itself and at the pieces of flesh that had fallen from its body.

‘What did you wish for?’

The human form raised its head in surprise. It couldn’t tell where the voice had come from. After a moment of confusion, it heard the voice again.

‘What did you want to do? What did you want to become? What was that small thing you kept in your heart all your life, too afraid of ridicule to speak of it? Not something grand, but that utterly trivial wish—what was it?’

What did I want to do? The form wondered. Then, it saw the wings that had been on its back. Burdensome, hideous, dirty eagle wings.

– I wanted to fly.

Only then did it recall its trivial wish. It couldn’t remember properly.

No, perhaps it was suppressing the memory. The things that vaguely came to mind weren’t pleasant memories.

Burning fields. A ruined village. The sound of hooves and trumpets. It didn’t want to remember. But the memory of seeing a bird circling through a broken helmet was clear.

It remembered wishing not to become like this. It remembered clearly wishing that if it were born again, it would like to soar freely like that.

‘Then do what you wished to do.’

Only then did the form realize where those words had come from. From the knight in black armor. He nodded as if urging it to hurry.

– How do I fly?

It didn’t know. But its body knew. The countless hours spent living as a beast were not easily forgotten.

Flight was not something to think about with the head but to move with the body, so reflexively, its body flapped nonexistent wings.

Then the hope contained within its body extended toward its back. It fluttered as brilliant wings. Just as when it fell, it inadvertently soared upward.

Toward the dark clouds where snow fell, it soared with its shimmering wings of light.

– I’m flying.

In pure joy, it soared upward. Like a baby taking its first steps.

A baby doesn’t know how far it can walk. Happy that it can walk like others, it laughs to itself, and then, becoming excited, it runs.

A baby’s bones are soft, and its legs lack strength. Even its body shape is disadvantageous for walking. Realistically and objectively speaking, a baby shouldn’t walk.

But no one says that. Because they know that the more it runs, the stronger its legs become, and its body shape changes as it grows. No one speaks of reality or objectivity to a growing child.

Because they know. They know what it can become.

But the one who has just taken flight doesn’t know this. It doesn’t know how far it can fly.

So it wanted to find out. It spread its wings and soared powerfully upward. Even the clouds dropping cold, heavy snow couldn’t hinder it.

Finally, it passed beyond the clouds. It saw a serene world. A sky where the sun, stars, and moon walked together harmoniously. Countless shining lights and the darkness that adorned them so they could shine.

This was it. This was the place it had wanted to reach. The place it had wanted to touch. The place it had never been but had missed. The place it had always felt it would someday reach.

But it wanted to see more. It wanted to see closer. Once it knew it could go, it grew greedy. And the hope within whispered that it was okay to go further.

– Somehow, I feel like I can do it.

Clenching its fists with strength, it soared upward. Becoming a brilliant light, it flew in the direction its heart pointed, toward the distant beyond.

The beasts of the earth gazed up at the sight. The trail it left was thin but distinct.

To soar didn’t require something as grand as what the black knight had thrust into the ground. Hadn’t it flown with something smaller than a fingernail?

– Then I too.

The beasts took courage. Hideous things fell away from their bodies one by one.

But there were some that did not.