The Amber Knight Swears His Love on the Saintess’s Left Hand - Chapter 27

No matter how much his heart raced with urgency, Quill knew he couldn’t enter the royal archives soaked to the bone.

He returned to the townhouse and stripped off his knight’s uniform. Out of habit, he nearly reached for a spare set of blues, then caught himself with a wry smile and grabbed his civilian clothes instead.

Without a moment to catch his breath, he headed for the Royal Library.

Waiting for him inside was Lars, who held an administrative position at the facility.

“Welcome.”

The moment Quill saw the worry etched onto Lars’s face, he understood.

“I see… so you knew as well, Brother.”

Realizing that he was the only one who had been interacting with Lynette in total ignorance made Quill feel a mix of frustration and resentment, which he inadvertently took out on his brother.

“My job is here, but I’m also secretly listed among His Highness’s personal guard.”

“What!?”

He had been his brother’s sibling for twenty years and had never known. Just as Quill was about to gape at this sudden revelation of Lars’s title, Lars made a frantic gesture for him to be quiet.

“…’Secretly,’ remember?”

“Understood.”

Quill followed Lars through the vast interior of the library.

Bookshelves far taller than Quill’s head stood in orderly rows. They passed through, nodding to the occasional staff member, until they reached the administrative office in the back.

This area was apparently a repository for important documents; every cabinet with a door was locked tight.

Lars pulled about five books from a shelf in the back. Behind the empty space, a stone wall was visible. Lars pressed firmly against a specific part of the masonry. After confirming a metallic clunk as something engaged, he slid the entire shelf to the side.

Behind the shelf was a door.

“You go on from here, Qu. I don’t have the key to this part, so don’t lose yours.”

The characteristically “elder brother” advice helped ease Quill’s tension slightly.

He inserted the key he had received from his father and turned it. The door was heavy. It opened with a slow, grinding creak, revealing a staircase leading immediately into the basement. The path ahead was dark, lit only by scattered wall lamps.

Lars unlocked a cabinet and took out a small candle lantern. He lit it and handed it to Quill.

“Well then, be careful.”

Before Quill could even reply, the door shut behind him.

Suddenly, his world was plunged into darkness.

The lantern’s light was flickering and faint as he cautiously descended. True to the impression from the entrance, it was quite deep. When he looked back, the entrance was no longer visible; both the way forward and the way back were swallowed in gloom. Feeling a growing sense of unease, he pressed on until the interval between the wall lamps shortened, and the area gradually grew brighter.

At the bottom of the stairs was a door bearing the same royal crest as the key. Light leaked through the cracks of the frame.

Before he could push it open, the door was opened from the inside.

“Good work.”

“…Sascha?”

Sascha, who was supposed to be leading the First Squad right now, raised a hand in greeting with a relaxed, knowing smirk.

“How… how are you able to enter here?”

“Hey, I’m not slacking off! I’m here with the official permission of Marquis Geis Kirsten.”

“Don’t tell me you quit being a knight too!?”

Sascha blinked at Quill’s outburst. He ruffled his short auburn hair, tilted his head, and let out a sudden “Aha!” of realization.

“Don’t worry. I’ve been hanging out here since before the Commander picked me up. I’ve had permission since before I became a knight, so there’s zero problem.”

“Hanging out? Why on earth…?”

“By His Majesty’s orders. I’m a descendant of a descendant of a descendant of a collateral branch of King Ringdell. Or something like that.”

“Ringdell… as in, that King?”

“Yep. That one. The Demon King who was best friends with a hundred magical beasts.”

Quill nearly dropped his lantern. He slumped down where he stood, pressing a hand to his forehead. He barely managed to suppress the laughter bubbling up in the back of his throat.

“So, I was being ‘handled’ from the very beginning.”

His father held the key; his brother managed the library. The Commander he trusted was a Marquis who granted permissions. His easy-going comrade was of the bloodline of a fallen kingdom, frequenting the forbidden archives.

It was too perfect.

Surely, from the start, he had been monitored as a pawn—all for the day he eventually awakened to sorcery.

Sascha knelt down to face Quill, peering into his eyes.

“Well, look. I won’t deny it. My position is pretty much the same. I’m one of the King’s pawns too.”

“It’s fine. I understand.”

“But, you know, it’d make me happy if you realized that my feeling that you’re my friend is real. The Commander, the Langbarts, and even the Prince—I don’t think any of them are the type of people who could just treat this as ‘business’ without feeling anything.”

Sascha’s voice trailed off awkwardly as he scratched his head. Quill could only give a wry smile at his friend’s attempt to hide his embarrassment.

“I know. I understand all of that.”

“…Man. This isn’t the kind of conversation two grown men should be having.”

Sascha stood up and offered a hand. Quill took it and, pulling himself up, looked around the Forbidden Archives once more.

The room was about the size of a single room in the knight’s barracks. It was large enough for Sascha and Quill to lie down together. The ceiling was low, the light was sparse, and there were no windows. The dimness created an atmosphere befitting a “forbidden” place.

A lantern flame flickered on a small writing desk. Perhaps there was a vent somewhere, as the air lacked the dampness typical of underground rooms.

There was only one shelf. There were easily over a hundred volumes stored there. Each was thick, and deciphering them would clearly take time.

“All of these?”

“Nah. There’s a mountain of records on secret arts sleeping here.”

“Secret arts?”

“Old magic from before the current system was perfected. Sorcery ($Jujutsu$) is one of them. Apparently, ancient magic was divided into many more lineages.”

Sascha stacked about ten books on the desk. He pulled out a chair and forced Quill to sit.

“The stuff you want to know is around here. I’ll translate the bits written in Old Ringdell script as we go, so just ask.”

“Sascha, you’re amazing.”

“Right? I’m kind of a big deal.”

Sascha began flipping through a book he’d placed on the desk.

“First, what you need to know is the source of King Ringdell’s power.”

His hand, which had been leafing through the pages, stopped about halfway through the thick volume.

“A secret art only the King could use. It’s called ‘Transference’ ($Ten-i$)—the power to move a human soul into a different vessel.”

“Only the King? Not the Ringdell bloodline?”

“According to the records, yes. The Demon King did indeed command magical beasts. But that wasn’t sorcery. He devoured the souls of the Betzyraft and stole their sorcery.”

With a look of disgust as he said “stole,” Sascha looked Quill in the eye with a serious gaze.

“Listen to me calmly. Within the Holy Sword, the soul of the Demon King is sealed. The Saint is the bride meant to console him.”

The flame in the lantern gave a sharp, tiny crackle.

In the ancient past, when many small nations rose and vanished…

During the long war between Ringdell and Eikraezen, the predecessor of Eiklant, the King of Ringdell grew impatient and turned his eyes toward sorcery.

The King moved the souls of the Betzyraft into his own body, devouring them to obtain their power. By taking in a massive number of souls, he commanded countless magical beasts.

However, as a price for devouring so many souls, the King lost his sanity. He could no longer think; he hungered for blood, and his body began to crumble, unable to withstand the sheer magnitude of the souls within him.

This consequence was why the King had deemed Transference a taboo. He had been so captivated by sorcery that he had forgotten the cost.

Eventually, the King would self-destruct.

But a weary Eikraezen did not have the strength to endure until that moment.

Eikraezen would fall. The mad King of Ringdell would slaughter the nation. Everyone believed this was the end.

The turning point came suddenly.

The King of Ringdell, having lost his mind, demanded a bride from Eikraezen to console him. The King was no longer rational, and the beasts he commanded were threatening not only Eikraezen but Ringdell’s own territories as well.

This was an opportunity they couldn’t miss.

A daughter of the Eikraezen Royal Family was offered up. She was sixteen. She was a girl who had been hidden away, loathed because her silver-blonde hair did not match the royal lineage.

The brave girl pleaded with her family to let her slay the King herself, but Eikraezen would not allow it. They used sorcery to seal her emotions, turning her into a doll.

Between the girl and the King of Ringdell, a contract was etched into their souls through sorcery.

The girl would be with the King’s soul for eternity.

As long as the girl’s soul was with him, the King would calm the magical beasts.

But the matter did not end with this contract.

What would happen if those souls—bloated by devouring others and etched with a contract—were reborn? Would the power of Transference be inherited by new life?

Eikraezen feared the unknown.

Using every form of sorcery at their disposal, they mimicked Ringdell’s Transference to create a single sword.

They offered the King an “eternal body.” Under this lie, they sealed his soul into the sword.

The mimicry of Transference woven into the blade was intended to one day tear the King’s “companions” (the devoured souls) away from him. This wish was woven into the steel by sacrificing the lives of many Betzyraft practitioners.

The King, having lost his sanity, joyfully abandoned his flesh and moved his soul into the sword.

Eikraezen seized the Ringdell territories and sang of victory. No one could truly verify if the wish woven into the sword had actually come true, for they were dealing with things unseen.

Eventually, the girl’s physical body expired, and Eikraezen finally realized their mistake. If they were to seal the King in the sword, the bride had to be sealed with him.

Without his bride, the soul of the King within the sword began to summon the magical beasts once more.

They built the Cathedral and tried to quiet the sword with the power of the few remaining Betzyraft. They chose a new bride from among the people and offered her up. But the King’s soul would not be stilled.

After a long era of enduring the threat of magical beasts, people finally learned that the eternal contract was truly “eternal.”

When a certain girl reached her sixteenth year, the stars painted her the same colors as the First Girl.

The protection gained from the sacrifice of a new bride brought peace to the land. Had they been able to seal the bride into the sword then, the title of “Saint” might never have continued through the ages.

But the soul of King Ringdell refused. The King laughed, claiming the bride was beautiful precisely because she was made of living flesh.

Eventually, the bride’s life would end again, and a gap in the protection would follow.

At the end of a sixteen-year void, the King, carrying the contract upon the stars, goes to fetch his bride.