Act Forty-Two: Two Letters VII

A gentle breeze passed over the treetops, and the leaves rustled like a little afternoon tune.

"It all began in your grandfather's time," Her Highness the Princess said softly, as though answering the tune. "That was nearly sixty years ago. Anson XI was still on the throne then. The Kingdom still had Sword Saint Darus and Tulamann, Lord of Mithril Castle. It was the Year of Thunder. Eluin had just issued the Militia Training Decree, and the Ridenburg–Vanmir Line had only just begun construction. It was the most glorious period this ancient kingdom had experienced since the Xifah Dynasty. And in that era, your grandfather was one of its most dazzling names."

Brando remained silent. He looked toward the fields. The clouds were drifting over Stag Forest, while the faint, rolling mountain shadows to the south were the Yusong Mountains.

Sword Saint Darus was indeed a legend of that era—the strongest Sword Saint in the history of the Kingdom of Eluin, and the only kingdom commander ever to serve as marshal of the allied forces of the Temple of Flames.

However, the radiance of that star did not last forever. Not long after the Holy War ended, he inexplicably vanished from history. Some said he had died; others said he had merely disappeared. There was even a rumor that when the kingdom once again faced a calamity from which there was no escape, the Sword Saint would return to this land and save Eluin from its crisis. But Brando understood that this was ultimately only a beautiful wish. In another history, those legends were buried beneath the dust when the kingdom fell. Perhaps, after a thousand years, no one would remember them anymore.

If not for what he had experienced, he would never have understood that Darus had never left