Episode 136 Three books - The Saga of Lioncourt

The new year dawned. I turned 33. The world outside was in chaos, resembling a tangled mess of hemp, with various factions colliding in what seemed like an age of warring states. Yet, in Lioncourt, peace prevailed. This was because of me. I don't mean to brag, but my military achievements are unparalleled. There isn't a fool out there willing to challenge me when there are other enemies around. To hear it told, I reputedly once defeated an enemy army numbering in the tens of thousands with just eight riders, including the Seven Generals. While I'm not quite sure how the story evolved, tales of valor often take on a life of their own. I heard that some fierce warrior from the Minamoto clan sunk enemy ships with arrows, and there's that story of a Spartan king who famously troubled millions with just 300 men. It's all much the same, whether or not there's truth to it. Despite Lioncourt continuing its uneventful peace from last year, my personal life was rather eventful. It brought both joy and sorrow: a wedding and a funeral. Let's start with the joyous event. In the spring of this year, my eldest daughter, Emma, got married. As expected, her groom was Albert, the eldest grandson of the Viscount of Benyro. At 15, Albert was of suitable age for a noble wedding, as was Emma at 13. The efforts of the Benyro Viscount family in preparation for this marriage were astounding, so much so that they renovated and gifted the Castle Émé to young Albert as their new home. Granted, Castle Émé was bustling enough to have homes built outside the walls (see Chapter 81), making renovations necessary, but it was still an extraordinary gesture. “You know what they say: when welcoming a maiden, one should renew the hearth,” the elderly Viscount, whom I hadn't seen in a while, laughed heartily, toothless but overjoyed. The sight of this goblin-like Viscount genuinely celebrating his grandchild’s wedding was heartwarming even to me. ... A maiden, huh... I gazed at Emma with complex emotions. Emma, who bears a striking resemblance to me, at 13 had already... well, let's just say she indulged in her own "sampling," which often troubled both Sumina and me. But, that's a story best left untold. Lucienne, who once maintained our household’s decorum, had been bedridden, leading to this unexpected state of affairs. Emma, tall and muscled like an athlete, is quite a beauty with a muscle-toned aesthetic, even from a parent's perspective. Between you and me, Emma has a fierce temperament, astonishingly strong physical strength, and outstanding athletic abilities. She's even knocked Simon out cold with a single slap during their arguments. As Sumina’s daughter, had she been a boy, she would undoubtedly have been my heir, a veritable physical monster. Her remarkable prowess makes even her parent wonder if something extra might be "growing" there, and she undoubtedly would be world-class material if there were a women’s boxing contest. Albert, the slender, handsome young man, seems to have a penchant for Emma, a female powerhouse, and is likely already engaging in daily wrestling practices with her. I worry Albert may suffer from exhaustion... I should consider sending something that builds stamina his way. Then came the somber occasion of a funeral. That year, our family lost a significant member—my mother, Lucienne. Last year, after injuring her back, she had been nearly bedridden and gradually weakened until she passed away on a chilly, rainy day in July. The cause of her death is unknown but there were no signs of external injury. It could've been a heart attack or a stroke. By the time a servant checked on her, she was no longer breathing. According to Lano, our family physician, there was no trace of prolonged suffering... This fact brought me a small sense of relief. In the customs of the Sacred Heavenly Church, those nearing the end call priests and close family to their bedside for a final mass. This rite serves as a "confession," asking forgiveness from family they've deceived with falsehoods and seeking salvation for their soul after death. Devout as she was, it must have grieved Lucienne that she couldn't receive her confession... I felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness. In an effort to offer her some solace, I invited a priest to conduct a brief mass at her bedside. Caron performed the rite for us. Deeply connected to our family, he rushed to our side upon hearing the news. I was profoundly grateful for his compassionate gesture. After the mass, the body was to be cleansed and placed in a coffin, typically a task performed by non-family members. Yet, inexplicably, Kiara insisted, "I'll do it," and carried out all the duties herself. Perhaps it's a custom of the Pasolon tribe or something similar. Lucienne’s body was interred in the cathedral slated for construction by the Eastern Sacred Heavenly Church in the territory's capital. Her remains would undergo embalming and be temporarily entombed in the church’s underground until the cathedral’s completion, at which point she would likely be re-interred with a national funeral befitting Lioncourt—a grand occasion. For those unfamiliar with these rituals, they may seem odd or unusual, but such is the nature of religion. To outsiders, many traditions can be incomprehensible... I too was initially bewildered by them. My mother, who loved me unconditionally... Though I should be mourning, I find a strange calm within myself. The surreal succession of rituals... To me, her death felt distant—as if it were a dreamlike fabrication or an event within a film’s screen, detached from reality. Kiara and the children wept loudly. Perhaps they were shedding all the tears I couldn’t. …………… Lucienne’s sudden death was a shock to me. Everyone must die. The transience of life, the inevitability of separation... Wasn’t that in The Tale of the Heike? There's no guarantee I’ll be alive tomorrow. I decided to write a book. Its content would encapsulate my experiences and knowledge in a dialogue format. Amoros’s scholarly texts often take such a form—for some reason—so this standard approach should be more accessible. I cannot be sure how long I’ll live. But I hope, whenever the time comes, that my insights and experiences will endure beyond me... with each word a plea for someone to inherit my will. I started by jotting down random thoughts, which gradually took shape, eventually resulting in three volumes. The first covered military affairs and martial arts, framed as lessons I received from my mentor, Albert. From the mindset for battle to practical strategies laced with my own experiences, the importance of logistics, martial techniques, and weapon usage—it’s a never-ending topic. The title of this book is "The Old Knight’s Teachings." It stands as the most voluminous of my writings. Next, I tackled political strategy and the art of winning hearts and minds, titled "Words of the Wise Mother." Indeed, this was in dialogue with Lucienne herself. This book also serves as a tribute to Lucienne, heavy with episodes from our shared times. While some stories, like appointing Enzo as a tutor (see Chapter 69), are factual, others are fabrications with characters substituted to honor Lucienne. Incidentally, thanks to Amoros's lack of copyright laws, this poses no issue. As I remembered the devout Lucienne, my pen naturally flowed with insights on the utility of religion, imbuing the work with an unexpected religious component. Even within the book, Lucienne continually guides and loves me. There were numerous moments during writing when I couldn't stop tears from falling—a stark contrast to the dry ceremony of the funeral. The third book dealt with civil affairs. It began with detailed explanations of agriculture and tools, stressing the importance of public health, and discussed the benefits of extending roads to initiate trade. For this one, I featured Tanqueray. The format involved a debate between Tanqueray, who handled civil affairs, and me. I wanted to delineate both the merits and the pitfalls of policies, so I chose this structure. Most of it was fictional, but, as they say, "dead men tell no tales"... I hoped for his forgiveness. The book’s title is "Lioncourt’s Political Dialogues." It may lack flair, but with few books in Amoros, a straightforward title is prudent. Though I wanted something grand like "Leviathan," this was inevitable. Lastly, I documented plans for a road through the Eastern Mountains... This massive undertaking would likely not be completed in my lifetime. I hoped to ensure the project endured, seeking to expand cultural exchanges and economic zones for future benefit. For the unknown readers of the future, this was all I could do. Thus, my 33rd year came to a close. My health was gradually declining, and I increasingly choked on my food. It seemed I was unconsciously eating less, as people commented on my weight loss—this was attributed to the stress of losing my mother. For now, that explanation would suffice. If word got out that I was ill, the situations I've managed to control might develop unpredictably. My ailment could be fatal or something I might naturally recover from. Without reliable diagnostic tools, complacency was not an option. ...If only I could manage five years... no, three years... to hand over to Robert in that time... Young though he was, Robert would have to be sent to his first campaign and assume my duties. There's a fear of death, the dread that everything I've accomplished will be for naught. ...I'll consult Enzo tomorrow... Can I explain it away cleverly while concealing the illness... As I revised the three finished volumes, the year was on the verge of changing. "Three Wise Men" Though the original manuscript of Varian's writings was lost, copies were made by the Eastern Church and retainers, spreading across Lioncourt. The three who appeared—Albert, Lucienne, and Tanqueray—would achieve eternal fame for their deeds, whether fact or fiction, and be celebrated as the "Three Sages." Among the three volumes, "The Old Knight’s Teachings" would become particularly cherished, an exceptional tactical book within Amoros, and the first practical one in Lioncourt. Albert came to be known as the "Father of All Knights," and was hailed as an exemplar of educators. Such a portrayal was far removed from reality, and I imagine Varian and Albert would have had a hearty laugh. Moreover, due to their association with Albert and Lucienne, Tanqueray was also conveyed with the image of an elder, much to his bemusement. In the tales, he is a reclusive sage who, at Varian's request, built Bayson—a wise old figure shrouded in legend.