Episode 146 Life as it is - The Saga of Lioncourt

Thud, thud—the vehicle vibrated beneath me. Before I knew it, they'd stripped me of my armor and loaded me onto a cart. ...Am I still alive...? The pain ran rampant throughout my body, not just from the illness. I glanced at my left palm and saw that the tips of my ring and pinky fingers were missing. ...Death doesn't come easily... It's challenging to prolong one's lifespan, but equally hard to cut it short. The instant I tried to exert strength, I was met with excruciating pain, confirming severe injuries; nothing minor. ...Well, it's fine... Dying from battle wounds is the same as dying in combat... I absently gazed at my missing fingertips. To die from wounds received in war. The only difference between this and dying in battle is whether it happens sooner or later. I found deep satisfaction in that thought. "Oh, you're awake?" Someone peered into the cart—it was Jean. I tried to sit up, but he stopped me. "Better not." "A total of nine wounds from swords and spears, four broken bones, missing fingers from your left hand. Bruises and scratches aren't even worth counting... Plus, there's the illness. It's a wonder you're still alive. Haha, by the way, you've lost about half of your right ear." Jean's account of my condition was brutal. "...I see..." The croak that left my lips surprised me; the sound felt foreign. "I get it; my grandpa felt the same. You don't want to die from the disease, do you?" I was taken aback by Jean's insight. Was Albert also sick? "...I see... Albert too..." "Yeah. We kept it under wraps, but it makes sense, right? You're his grandson." I nodded, feeling a torrent of emotions. Trying to recall Albert’s past, details eluded me. "Jean, the battle...?" "Well, we won, but we're in shambles. We lost about 2000 men to casualties and desertion. Poncello and Baron Cocteau were slain in battle. Andre was gravely injured. We're currently returning to Balka Castle." Jean casually reported a situation that was far from trivial. Poncello had been the only man in the Bachelard domain capable of keeping Simon in check. ...So, Poncello is gone... I closed my eyes, mourning the loss of a comrade. Poncello was undoubtedly a cornerstone of the Lioncourt army. His death would have profound impacts. ...And Albert had been ill... I recalled my mentor and chuckled bitterly at the thought. There was still work left to do. One last task that couldn't be entrusted to others. 'Kill Simon.' To suppress the turmoil likely to arise after my death, the seeds of civil unrest needed to be uprooted with force. Currently, Simon and Robert only compared in strength. Simon, with a track record of military command and victory, far outranked Robert, who had just completed his first campaign at thirteen. With Simon, Robert would be threatened—it was undeniable. Robert had strong allies in his uncle Andre and Andre's brother-in-law Pierre. Together, they would effectively sustain governance. Moreover, Jose’s son, Robert’s school friend, was sure to support him. Being the rightful heir, Robert can govern the country sensibly. Provided Simon is eliminated. On the other hand, Simon's bravery and valor were compelling. His imposing physique was persuasive. For the Lioncourts, courage and valor were paramount. This belief only strengthened with my repeated successes in foreign campaigns. Soldiers would undoubtedly back Simon. Simon's potential supporters included Baron Ge and the Bachelard faction under his command in this campaign. Especially with Poncello's demise, no one could reign in Bachelard, leaving them vulnerable to Simon's whims. Moreover, Daumier likely leaned toward Simon... Those driven by ambition might see more opportunities for advancement with Simon than being confined within the family alliance supporting Robert with Andre and Pierre. The Simon-aligned faction lacked a central figure capable of leading a regime. This would lead to a governance by trial and error... a gamble at best. Ultimately, with Robert and Simon around, the current main faction would clash with others. Regardless of intentions, 'it would happen.' This mirrored my own experiences. I supported the main faction with Robert, the heir, or rather, I'd been orchestrating its succession that way. However, time was short. I didn’t have until moonrise. Hence, albeit forceful, Simon, who was central to the Simon faction, needed to be eliminated. Simon had no heirs, making this the perfect opportunity. There were problems. Conflicts surged. 'Can I kill Simon?' I questioned myself, finding no answer—just the notion that 'it had to be done.' However suspicious it seemed, summon Simon... and kill him. I wouldn’t delegate this task. "...Jean, I have... a request..." "Huh? What is it?" Jean leaned in to catch my weakening voice. After I told him a few words, Jean promised, "Got it, leave it to me." "We need to hurry; Lord Varian might not last till tomorrow." Jean issued commands to those around, then departed from the cart. According to Jean, I was going to die today. ...What would Jean do after my death...? I pondered, but the answer eluded me entirely. He might support Andre and help Robert. On the other hand, if left unchecked, he might align with Simon for chaos. Jean was a better strategist in war than I ever was. Post-mortem, Jean might become a key figure. ………… How much time passed...? Jean returned with Rolo in tow. "Lord Varian... rest assured. Lord Robert is leading the troops in your stead, and Lord Simon is on his way." I nodded faintly at Rolo's message. He must have understood the situation fully from Jean, preparing everything without needing to ask. Rolo handed me a drawn dagger, and draped a cloak over me to hide it. A makeshift large tent resembling a simple campsite was quickly set up to match the army’s break, and I was seated inside. The perimeter remained intentionally loose, to lull Simon into complacency. "...Rolo, Jean... Hands off..." Jean responded simply, "I got it." Rolo nodded deeply... perhaps implying no need to say more. Soon, Simon entered... alone. The only people in this tent were Simon, myself, Rolo, and Jean. Simon briefly displayed a look of surprise, but said nothing. I summoned all my remaining willpower to circulate strength through my body. Just for this moment, nothing beyond mattered. I stood, tottering toward Simon... though simple, the effort was monumental. "...Simon, I have a final message... Closer, please..." When I called out to him, Simon hesitated for a moment before approaching. No flashy moves were needed. Just transfer my weight and drive the dagger in. "Ugh..." As I teetered, Simon reached out, seemingly to steady me… this was my chance. I mustered all my remaining strength to thrust the dagger… or so I thought. But Simon closed in swiftly, using both hands to grab the dagger I attempted to wield, then used his shoulder to shove me away. Though it was merely a shoulder push, Simon's imposing physique delivered enough force. I fell backward, unable to withstand it, and the dagger was wrested from my grasp. Quickly, Simon stood at a distance, holding the dagger he took from me, ready to ward off Rolo and Jean. "We won't interfere, it's a promise," Jean assured, aiming to ease Simon’s wariness, as Rolo helped me up. "Father... I'm sorry," Simon murmured, looking regretful. I sensed an unexpected shift—from calling me "Father" to "Dad." "...Simon, you...are stronger than me..." "That's not true! It's just because you're beaten up!" Though Simon's cries reached me, my vision blurred, making my son difficult to see. ...Perhaps things turned out for the best... I didn't have to kill my son... Setting aside Lioncourt's future, I could never wish to harm my beloved child. Oddly, relief washed over me. I was unworthy of being king. My knees gave way, and Rolo tightened his grip around me, helping me stay upright. "Heed my words... don't... display... indecisiveness..." If there was a regret in my life, it was the ambiguous stance during my struggle against my brother for succession, which led to tragedy. If only I had acted with more determination back then... things might have been different. At the very least, I could have accepted the outcome more willingly. I must convey this crucial lesson to my son, Simon. "I understand! Enough already! Rolo, stop him! He's going to die!!" Simon's voice echoed distantly. Please, heed your father's last words. I no longer knew whether I was standing, sitting, or lying down. It was all a blur. 'Build my grave facing Bachelard from outside the castle walls of Portu. I will watch your achievements from there.' I hoped I managed to communicate that thought, though I couldn't be certain what I actually said. It was at this moment that I lost all connection to the outside world. I might have slipped into a coma… the absence of pain was a relief. But the void was excruciatingly dull. With no vision, no sound, and no movement, there was nothing to do. Eventually, even my sense of time faded away. Deprived of action, my mind wandered through thoughts and memories, striking upon one persistent question: 'Why did I come to Amoros?' No matter how deeply I pondered, the answer eluded me. Why did I, who died in Japan, live again as Varian de Lioncourt? Why me? As considerable time passed, a realization struck—some things are unknowable by nature. Who can explain the reason for their birth? People 'awaken' and find themselves born somewhere; there’s no inherent reasoning. I don’t know why I was first born as Masashi Tanaka, nor why I woke as Varian. And that’s perfectly fine. The world is filled with unanswered questions. Things are as they are, and that’s enough. Slowly, I felt 'myself' departing from my body. Ah, I remembered. The name of my long-forgotten wife was 'Yumiko.' How could I ever forget that? ……………… Varian drew his last breath shortly after his exchange with Simon. As he neared death, Simon, Rolo, and Jean noticed Varian's lips moving slightly; straining, they leaned in, eager to catch his final words. The sound was faint, unintelligible to all. Yet they understood its essence, exchanging amused looks among themselves. "I can't believe it! He called out the name of some woman we don't know." The last word spoken by Varian was 'Yumiko.' The three of them burst into laughter, tears streaming down their cheeks.