[14] The First Step Toward a Dream (6)
"Impressive, Shirone."
Reina, chin propped on her hand, smiled at Shirone. With one stern remark she'd cowed the adults in the room—and it only stoked Rian's fiery temper further.
In some ways, Rian's personality might be the one most like his father's. Even so, Shirone seemed to shine—not from calculated strategy, but from sincere feeling.
"Puahahaha! This is a masterpiece! Who would've thought I'd get this excited at my age? Youth truly is the best thing!"
The mansion shook with his laughter and the maids screamed. The immediate family, however, simply sighed and turned to look.
An old, shaved-headed man with a bluish tint stood on the second-floor balcony.
Shirone stared blankly. He could have been Rian's final evolved form—broad and heavily muscled, his arms twitching as if ready to burst.
It was Ozent Klump, Rian's grandfather.
"Grandfather!"
Reina rose like someone who'd been handed ten thousand reinforcements. Convincing the black-haired head of the family had been beyond her and Rian alone—if his grandfather had come, things would be different.
"Have you come, Father? Reina said it would take a few days," Klump chuckled.
"Heh heh! A friend of mine ran off with a young beauty, so I arrived early. This place is still as lively as ever. Youth really is wonderful."
"It's not exactly wonderful. The family's honor has been dragged through the mud."
"Is that so? I've been watching, and it seems everyone has plenty to say. Why not hear each opinion first and decide whether our honor was truly tarnished?"
Reina thought, 'Grandfather is the best!' Klump had passed the family headship to his son, but his post as a third-grade prosecutor still commanded respect from the household.
"Then I'll speak first. I met Shirone only yesterday, but he's intelligent and talented. As a contracted worker he completed every task, and today he was supposed to leave the household. Given those facts, it's hard to say he bore ill will toward Rian, so I don't think he disgraced the family."
Reina stated her point succinctly and sat. The balance had shifted—but the battle wasn't over. They'd merely evened the scales.
Though bluish hair might bond more strongly than black, Klump—who had once been family head himself—was fair. He gave Rian, clearly the opposing voice, a chance to speak.
"Then what does my second grandson think?"
Rian answered in a cold tone.
"I don't like that kid."
The servants murmured; the remark came from the family's brightest prospect.
"But I don't want to fuss about it. It's none of my concern."
Bishop asked, puzzled, "What do you mean? You say you don't like him, but you don't want to care?"
"Exactly that. I don't like him. But I won't lie about my feelings just because I dislike him. I said I don't want to care because I genuinely don't. Whoever Rian befriends, I just want to finish this and go to the palace."
Reina clicked her tongue. Even if he was her brother, he was selfish through and through. Yet this time his attitude worked in Rian's favor.
Klump chuckled like a boy, amused by his eccentric family. That, too, was a strength unique to the mixed bloodlines of the Ozents.
"Finally, let's hear from the deputy butler who has watched Shirone the longest."
Temuran stepped forward. Louis shot him a sidelong glance—mind your place. Family can say what they like to each other, but a butler's most important person is his employer, Bishop.
"Shirone completed the tasks I assigned for a year and a half flawlessly."
Louis's brow creased with displeasure. If only Temuran would invent a harsher accusation—no wonder he remained the perennial deputy butler.
"Did you know they were friends?"
"He was often with the youngest master, but I didn't know they were friends. Still, in my view, if he had been so lacking in discretion he couldn't have sorted ten thousand volumes of books."
Shirone opened his eyes wide in surprise. He'd never imagined Temuran thought of him that way.
Louis demanded angrily, "So you're taking Shirone's side now?"
Temuran, experienced and practiced, bowed with a deferential smile.
"No, sir. I too was shocked that a contracted worker consorted with the youngest master. I merely report the facts as deputy butler."
That was enough. Bishop alone argued for punishing Shirone. Even a family head could not easily ignore a united household.
Rian let out a long breath. Shirone felt relief and smiled at him.
But it wasn't over.
"I cannot agree."
Klump's final verdict.
"Father."
"Grandfather!"
Bishop and Rian called out at once, but their tones couldn't have been more different.
"I understand they consider each other friends. But it ends here. If the relationship continues, rumors will spread and other nobles might pick at them. It's best that Rian and Shirone part now, thinking they made good memories."
Reina felt stung but had no rebuttal. Family matters were important; saving Shirone's life had already been a success.
Rian's gaze burned with hostility; Klump answered with a sunny smile. Who could fail to understand the love for a grandson one could keep in your pocket? Still, he had a duty to the family's honor—and no one had protested his decision.
"Shirone, what say you? I'm grateful you taught my foolish grandson about friendship, but could you let Rian go? Nobles and commoners don't easily remain friends."
Shirone, who had been staring at the marble floor, spoke.
"I cannot."
The bold reply surprised Bishop, Reina, Rian, and even Klump. Most shaken of all was Rian.
"Shi-Shirone…"
"If, as a commoner, I become an obstacle to Rian's path, I won't see him again—that's fine. If it eases your mind, you may kill me. But that doesn't make us not friends. Rian and I are friends."
Tears fell from Rian's eyes—tears of embarrassment. Part of him was simply relieved Shirone was alive. In truth, it had been Rian who lacked trust.
Having made his choice, Rian raised his sword and shouted, "I proclaim it here and now!"
The family's faces tightened. When Rian got that excited, something unexpected always happened.
Their worry proved justified. Rian turned to Shirone and, before speaking, reversed the sword and drove it into the marble with lightning speed.
The greatsword bit through the marble. Shirone stared at his reflection in the blade.
Rian dropped to one knee and bowed his head to Shirone.
"Rian Ozent of House Ozent, from this hour, becomes Shirone's sword."
"What are you, idiot!"
Bishop leapt up, forgetting decorum, and pointed. Rian's action was absurd. Even Reina, who had defended him, looked stunned.
"Did you just—swear a knight's oath?"
A knight's oath. Nobles received stipends from the crown for fealty, but crowns had often been no more than another noble house; loyalties could shift with coins and favor. A knight's oath was different. It was a decision to become a sword—to spend one's life as the blade that serves a lord.
A noble who rose against the king was a traitor; a knight who broke his vow was not only stripped of honor but recorded in history as one who brought shame on his descendants.
Once in a lifetime—Rian had handed that weighty decision to Shirone in that moment.
Bishop seethed. Once made, a knight's oath couldn't be revoked. Even without stressing its weight, rescinding it would reduce him to scorn.
"Rian, what are you doing?"
Shirone asked, alarmed. Rian couldn't lift his head—embarrassment and wavering filled him. Compared to Shirone, who had risked his life to defend the name "friend," Rian had only words to offer.
"How is it? Now you can't take it back, right? We're going all the way."
Compared to Shirone's resolve, a knight's oath seemed small. Rian sheathed his satisfaction in a smile as he drew his sword and looked over the family. Their faces were unfamiliar. He'd caused a major incident, but it felt exhilarating.
Klump stroked his massive chin, thoughtful. He hadn't expected such recklessness—yet couldn't help feeling amused; Rian resembled him.
"Hah—if you're going to be foolish, you may as well go all the way. Heh heh heh."
Hiding his mixed feelings, Klump asked gravely, "Rian, if you're willing to become a sword, that must mean the boy deserves it, yes?"
"He more than deserves it."
"Then answer me. Is that worthiness about the boy's greatness, or your own lack?"
Rian thought. Was Shirone truly exceptional? Or was he the one who was lacking? No answer could fully satisfy an Ozent. Why ask such a question?
"A sword does not judge. It simply protects."
Klump nodded in satisfaction. As Rian said, a sword does not think—it cleaves whatever the master wills.
"You speak well, even if your swordsmanship is pathetic. I pity the friend who got a blade like you."
"Grandfather!"
Rian snapped, but the earlier tension had gone. He'd passed the point of no return, and besides, everyone else had deflated—there was no point arguing.
Klump, as straightforward as he was, wrapped things up cleanly.
"Very well. It's settled. Help him up. Shirone, Rian is an unrefined sword, but he is not one that will turn on his master. Take care of our grandson."
Shirone bowed silently. False modesty here would have insulted the Ozent family's pride.
"He is a friend beyond my station. Thank you for allowing it."
"The boy did what he wanted. Anyway, I hear his contract is finished. He was to return home, yes?"
"Yes. His parents will be waiting."
"They must miss him. But now that these two have vowed lifelong friendship, it would be a shame to part so abruptly. Hey, head butler."
"Yes, sir."
"Prepare the carriage Shirone was to take and set it off at once. Bring his parents here."
"Understood."
The head butler answered and left the mansion at once. The matter was now out of the head's hands.
Louis realized anew just how unfathomable the thinking of nobility could be.