Turning Chapter 1276

‘The Swordmaster of the North Wind? What even is that supposed to an?’

He knew that the Duke of Peleta and his adjutant were secretly Swordmasters. But it was the first ti he’d heard of a title like Swordmaster of the North Wind. Of course, that made sense—his recent life hadn’t exactly left him free enough to pick up on the latest rumors.

Even if Kiole had been living as usual without any incidents, it still would’ve been too early for him to know about the nickna that had just begun spreading through the capital. Kishiar, however, grinned shalessly and patted him on the shoulder.

“Ah. So you haven’t heard yet. I suppose you’ve been too busy. That’s fair. But make sure you rember it from now on. It’s an honorable title, earned after slashing dozens of winged monsters out of the sky with aura up in the North.”

“Your Grace.”

As Kiole, half-dazed, was being swept away by Kishiar’s glib words, Nathan Zuckerman, who hadn’t said a word until now, called out to his lord in a curt voice.

“If you intend to move without drawing attention, we shouldn’t delay here any longer.”

“Oh? Has it gotten that late already?”

Kishiar tilted his head with a note of regret.

“Well, we’ve got ti—we can keep talking as we go. If I’m to explain the legendary feats of the Swordmaster of the North Wind, I can’t leave out the sharpshooter who shot down the Enemy of the Sun.”

‘The sharpshooter who shot down the Enemy of the Sun? And who the hell is that...?’

“Oh, you look curious. And that would be—”

“Commander.”

Yuder Aile, who had already passed through the door, called out coolly. The unspoken ssage was clear: cut the chatter. Kishiar, with a smile far sweeter than before, began walking.

“Mm. Let’s get going.”

Their movents were so natural that Kiole missed his chance to protest. By the ti he ca to his senses, he was already on horseback, riding out through the west gate of the capital.

‘...Wait. Hold on. Are we seriously going like this—just the four of us?!’

It would’ve been awkward enough traveling alone with Yuder Aile. But to add the Duke of Peleta and his adjutant? That lineup was so bizarre, he wouldn’t believe it even in a dream.

Kiole shifted uncomfortably in his saddle, like he was sitting on a cushion full of needles, sneaking glances at those around him. In truth, it was Kishiar who made him more uneasy than Yuder did—and for a completely opposite reason.

Kiole had known Kishiar la Orr, the Duke of Peleta, since the ti he was still called the Second Prince. When they were younger, they’d briefly trained in swordsmanship under the sa master, and even after Kishiar returned from Peleta, they’d occasionally crossed paths at noble gatherings.

Up until the mont Kishiar announced the founding of the Cavalry, Kiole had believed he knew him fairly well. As his father had said, Kishiar was a man of light words and actions. Wine, people to party with, entertaining pastis—those three things sumd him up perfectly.

In fact, when Kiole first heard that Kishiar had returned to the capital, he’d secretly felt a bit of anticipation. He rembered the young prince who’d once shown an uncanny talent with the sword. But the grown duke acted like he’d never held a blade in his life. He carried himself with noble poise, sure, but that was it.

A bit disappointing, yes—but still, Kiole had taken pride in the fact that he’d once trained under the sa sword master as a duke of royal blood.

That was all.

Or so he’d thought. He hadn’t doubted it at all.

But now, to learn he was a Swordmaster all along?

The Kishiar that erged after that revelation felt like an entirely different person from the one Kiole had known. Or... had it actually started long before that?

A mory from the harvest festival last year surfaced in Kiole’s mind.

When Yuder Aile had suddenly started behaving strangely and asked Kiole to inform his commander due to his poor condition, there’d been a flash in the duke’s eyes in that mont—

That look... had belonged to soone utterly unlike the man Kiole thought he knew.

And even now, he felt the sa way.

The man laughing casually and chatting with Yuder Aile didn’t feel like the sa person. The Kishiar of old used to smile more flamboyantly, always seeming like he might disappear at any mont, drunk and careless. Even when his body was present, his mind seed halfway elsewhere—those red eyes used to invite mockery for that very reason. But now... now those eyes were steady, warm, and piercingly clear.

‘Maybe... maybe the version I used to know was the fake. And this is the real him...?’

That was a thought he never could’ve entertained before nearly being killed by his own brother. But now, after starting to see the hidden truths behind what his father and his family had done, he could finally begin to grasp the idea that the royals might not be anything like what he was taught to believe.

If the Emperor his father described as “detached from reality” turned out to be the complete opposite...

Then the Duke of Peleta might also be nothing like how his father had described him.

A frivolous, fickle, foolish man—powerless, with nothing but a hollow royal title.

No one looking at the current Kishiar would ever think such things.

But what about his father?

‘Father... and my elder brother, and the rest of them...’

Even after the Emperor’s recovery and the Cavalry’s rise to prominence, they still talked as if nothing had changed. As if simply saying so would make it true.

But the changes Kiole had seen firsthand were enormous.

Too much had already changed to pretend it wasn’t there.

And even now, in this very mont, things were still changing...

Kiole stared at the back of Kishiar la Orr, now a man he could no longer understand at all, and then lowered his gaze. Not knowing who he really was anymore... that scared him.

“I heard you wanted to see His Majesty after locating the secret vault.”

Just then, soone spoke to him. When Kiole lifted his head, Kishiar—who had been riding alongside Yuder Aile—was suddenly riding next to him. Kiole’s eyes trembled hard. He was now alone with the person he’d just been thinking was the most difficult to face.

“...Ah. Yes. Yes, I did.”

“Hmm? You used to speak quite comfortably with , didn’t you? No need to be so stiff. Hah. Surely you’re not uncomfortable around ?”

“Ah—n-no! Not at all! Why would I be, Your Grace—”

In truth, he was. But of course he had to deny it.

Kishiar smiled gently.

“Well, even if you were, it wouldn’t be strange. I haven’t exactly treated you comfortably myself, have I?”

“I... suppose not.”

After all, his father had stood in direct opposition to the royal family. It was only natural. But it was the first ti soone from the royal side had ever brought it up so frankly.

“I’ve heard you’ve gone through a lot of changes recently. Personally, I find it quite intriguing. I started wondering how far the son of Duke Diarca might be able to change.”

“Uh...”

“I admire those who overco pain to change. Change never cos without suffering.”

“...”

Kishiar looked Kiole straight in the eye and asked,

“How about you? Do you like change?”

Kiole instinctively looked around. Yuder Aile was still riding ahead, talking with Nathan Zuckerman. This conversation—this one was happening solely between him and Kishiar.

What the hell was he supposed to say to that? He wished soone could tell him, but he also knew—coldly—that no one could.

He had said he wanted to et the Emperor. So it made sense that he would first be speaking with the Emperor’s closest confidant and direct kin, the Duke of Peleta. If he couldn’t even respond here, then what good would eting the Emperor do?

Kiole clenched the reins in his hand until it felt like they’d break. Then, hesitantly, he opened his mouth.

“I... I never really thought about that kind of thing before.”

“Hmm.”

“Even now... the question feels too difficult. I’m not sure I really understand what you an.”

But...

“...Since returning from the South... I’ve started wanting to beco a real knight. One I wouldn’t be ashad of. If that’s considered change... then yes, I suppose I have changed. Probably.”