Ch.540Two Tests?

I turned my head away from the grotesque relief, ignoring it as I pulled out a new cigarette and lit it. My head was spinning from the shock.

“Haah…”

I sighed, exhaling smoke mixed with mint flavor, as I approached the coffin containing that crazy exhibitionist. Various reliefs continued beyond the scene of him running around naked, but I had no desire to look at them any further.

[What are you planning to do?]

‘Just want to take a look at your ancestor’s face.’

It was merely a gamer’s intuition, but I doubted the process of being recognized as a descendant of the Great’s Twelve Knights would end simply with touring this room.

That would be too bland. There must be something more.

So I’d been examining the reliefs and waiting, but despite quite some time passing, there were no promising signs of anything.

No light, no vibration, no sound.

I expected something to happen, but no matter how long I waited, the interior of the tomb remained peacefully asleep. Just like the Colossus that had been lying dead in front of the stone door.

So… I might as well open the coffin as a last resort.

In these situations, usually touching the coffin triggers an event, or perhaps I need to take some burial goods inside as proof. That’s how these things typically work.

[…Opening the coffin of the dead? Is that not disrespectful and rude even by western standards?]

‘How would I know? If he has complaints, he can wake up and argue.’

My hand reached toward the coffin lid without a trace of hesitation.

Since witnessing those obscene reliefs, what little respect I had for him had plummeted into negative territory.

And so, the moment I placed my hand on the coffin…

– Whoosh!

The Elpinel seal carved on the stone coffin began to emit a dazzling light.

So touching the coffin was indeed the trigger.

[What is this?]

‘…I don’t know, maybe he really is waking up to argue.’

I stepped back from the coffin and waited for the light to subside.

About five seconds passed.

The sacred light that had been pouring out dimmed to a gentle glow—

“At last, has the inheritor of the Sword of Patience arrived?”

Above Rotholandus’s stone coffin appeared a translucent man made of light.

“Welcome, my first successor. I am Rotholandus, son of Milonius. Rotholandus ‘the Unfaltering.'”

…Thankfully, he was clothed.

—-

The ghost… I suppose “ghost” is the right word, given his translucence… who introduced himself as Rotholandus was sitting on the stone coffin, dressed the same as the statue that had blocked the entrance to the mausoleum.

His curly hair was long enough to cover the back of his neck, and his bushy beard, thick eyebrows, and the wrinkles under his eyes gave him quite a solemn impression.

Though to me, he was just a crazy exhibitionist.

[My goodness.]

Hersella, suddenly finding herself face-to-face with an ancestor, let out a gasp.

Yes, it’s surprising. A conversation with a centuries-old ghost. Where else would you get such an experience? If Lacy had seen this sight, she would have fallen to her knees in overwhelming emotion.

Assuming, of course, she hadn’t seen the naked relief first.

[A ghost unable to pass on and trapped here… shouldn’t we sprinkle holy water or salt?]

‘I don’t know. Wouldn’t that be like killing him with your own hands?’

Did she immediately think of ways to kill her ancestor upon seeing him? As expected of the impious Hersella. Not an ounce of mercy for any blood relation except her mother.

[Kill? I would merely be sending him where he belongs.]

‘He’s not a child. If he wanted to go, he’d go on his own.’

I ignored Hersella’s suggestion to throw holy water at him.

He didn’t seem particularly dangerous, and I doubted an entity that emerged from Elpinel’s seal would be purified by Elpinel’s holy water anyway.

So… I might as well greet him first.

—-

“Um… pleased to meet you, ancestor? I am Haschal Median Aishan-Gioro, daughter of Imelia de Median.”

I nodded appropriately as I introduced myself, reciting my full name with all its attachments.

“A Ka’har…? My descendant?”

Only then did Rotholandus’s ghost seem to notice my appearance, his eyebrows twisting as his mouth opened slightly.

What, do you have a problem with me being Ka’har?

Of course he would. Even 800 years ago, westerners and Ka’har weren’t exactly on friendly terms.

“To be precise, I’m only half Ka’har. I’m mixed.”

“Ka’har blood mixed into the House of Median… Has the Empire of Karl Las fallen?”

That’s a bit harsh. The empire hasn’t fallen, just your family.

I don’t know why Imelia became Orhan’s wife, but according to Ludwig, she was captured as a Ka’har prisoner… so she probably became a slave and was presented to Orhan, or something like that.

…Of course, there was no need to bring up Imelia’s story.

He clearly seemed to dislike the Ka’har, and saying “Your descendant became a slave to barbarians! That’s how I was born!” would be nothing short of provocative.

“And ‘Astika’? That’s a baptismal name meaning a saint of Astraea… a Ka’har?”

“That’s racial discrimination. Is there some law that says Ka’har mixed-bloods must live as barbarians?”

I tilted my head to the side as I exhaled cigarette smoke.

No matter how old-fashioned he might be, there’s no need to be so obviously suspicious just because some Ka’har blood is mixed in.

Besides, he’s the barbaric one. At least the Ka’har wear clothes.

“…You have a point. I apologize for my rudeness. It was unimaginable in my lifetime, but… it seems the world has changed much while I slept.”

Surprisingly, Rotholandus offered an apology quite readily. Perhaps despite being an exhibitionist, he was fundamentally a renowned knight.

Well, dressed in armor like this, he looked every bit the noble knight. Thanks to his deep voice and solemn appearance.

“It has changed a lot. By the way, ‘lifetime’… excuse me, but are you really Rotholandus himself? I thought the souls of the Great’s Twelve Knights would be in heaven, not in a tomb like this.”

“I both am and am not.”

What’s that supposed to mean? Schrödinger’s ancestor?

“What do you mean?”

“In the days when Carlos the Great and all his knights were still alive, we vowed to leave tiny fragments of our souls sealed in these mausoleums before our final rest. To bless the successors who would someday come.”

I see. So not the actual Twelve Knights, but parts of them. Like gifts left for descendants.

That was welcome news. I wasn’t sure what kind of blessing he would bestow, but when it comes to blessings, the more the better.

“I did not expect my successor to be of mixed Ka’har blood, but you have proven yourself worthy of my blessing by passing two tests admirably. Thus, I shall bless you as a knight.”

Two tests…? What’s he talking about? I don’t remember taking any tests.

“Tests?”

“If one wishes to inherit the name of one of the Great’s Twelve Knights, it is only right that they prove their nobility and strength. You have proven that, despite your appearance, you possess noble beliefs by being acknowledged as the master of Durandal. That was the first test.”

Rotholandus’s ghost answered in a solemn voice. With an unnecessary remark.

‘…Despite my appearance?’

[Why are you muttering as if wronged? Looking at you, there couldn’t be a more barbaric barbarian.]

‘This is your face, you know?’

[Even if wrapped in gold-embroidered silk, the outer form still follows the shape of its contents. Is this not proof that the same appearance can give vastly different impressions depending on one’s cultivated refinement?]

…Talk about refinement. If you’re refined, then flies are birds.

—-

While Hersella and I were bickering, Rotholandus continued his explanation of the second test.

“The second test was to prove that you possess the martial prowess worthy of being recognized as my successor. Defeating a Colossus powered by a dragon heart fragment single-handedly demonstrates sufficient strength.”

Ah, that.

Indeed, even if just a fragment, a Colossus powered by a dragon’s heart would not be an opponent easily defeated. Perhaps if I were at full strength, but in my current state, it would have been quite a struggle.

The problem is…

“That thing was broken, you know?”

“…What?”

Rotholandus asked back with a face full of bewilderment. Is it that surprising?

“I said it was broken. It wasn’t moving at all, so I just dismantled it and came in.”

I shrugged lightly and pointed toward the door I had entered through.

“That’s impossible. It was a weapon meant to last at least a thousand years at minimum… Don’t tell me it took over a thousand years for my successor to reach this place?”

“Not a thousand years, but eight hundred years have passed.”

I doubt there wasn’t a single person acknowledged by Durandal in eight hundred years, but they probably all lived with their identities hidden, so the Holy State never noticed.

And some, like Imelia, probably perished before they could awaken.

“Strange. Eight hundred years is close to the expected timeframe… then the Colossus breaking down doesn’t make sense. A dragon heart fragment wouldn’t expire after just eight hundred years… Wait, could it be?”

Rotholandus, who had been muttering to himself and pondering the cause, suddenly twisted his expression as if he’d realized something. His face could only be described as furious.

“Those abominable dwarves must have stolen parts while building it…!”

Is this for real?

The possibility was so high that I had nothing to say.

Taking valuable parts when a non-expert commissions assembly—is this the same in any world? What an absurd situation.