Chapter 19 — Debt
Blade of Dawn · Page 2 of 4
Heidi's expression did not change. "I knew you would react this way. In truth, even we could hardly believe it was real. Yet the ancestor of the Cecil family has indeed awakened from his long sleep. We saw with our own eyes as he sat up in his coffin, the Pioneer's Sword still in his hand, and we have verified that he is truly resurrected—not some trick of the walking dead..."
Andrew's face took on a look somewhere between laughing and crying. "If you have any request of me, then please say it outright. This..."
Gao Yang waved his hand for Heidi to sit, laid the Pioneer's Sword upon the table, and turned to look at Viscount Andrew. "Viscount, what purpose could Heidi possibly serve by telling such a lie? A viscount's domain has been destroyed by monsters and an elemental tide, and a dragon has appeared in the skies above our lands. An incident of this magnitude is enough to stir the king himself in the capital. In such a desperate situation, would we dress someone up in ancient stage costume, hand them a shoddy antique sword, and have them come to your castle to tell you a fantastical tale—just for our own amusement?"
As he spoke, he channeled his magic into the Pioneer's Sword. As the mana flowed in, dark red veins surfaced once more upon that ancient blade. This time the lines were clearer still, and near the hilt they formed a heraldic pattern of a blade crossed with an iron plow—the very emblem the Cecil family had fixed upon the day Ansell was founded, the crest of their pioneering years.
Knights possessed mana as well—only they wielded it in a manner utterly unlike that of mages.
Though the Pioneer's Sword had long since lost the greater part of its former power, its most basic identifying marks remained. Andrew went somewhat dazed the instant he saw the blade. He had never beheld the true Pioneer's Sword, but a replica was enshrined in the Royal Sanctum at the capital. Years ago he had been fortunate enough to see that replica, and he could hardly mistake it now.
If the sword on the table was not a forgery made by the Cecil family, then it could only be the genuine article—the true sword sealed away in the Cecil family crypt, the one no one had dared covet even after the family's decline.
Would this fallen family really go dig open their ancestor's grave, pry out the holy sword, and then use it to prop up a colossal lie?
Andrew hesitated. If this truly were a farce, then the cost of the farce was frighteningly steep. But if it was not a farce...
An ancestor dying and dying until he suddenly bolts out of his grave—no one would dare believe such a thing!!
"You are quite free to summon an elven craftsman to appraise the sword's authenticity—it was forged by their people in those days, and they know how to examine the elven sigils. You may also bring out the portraits of the founding princes and kings and compare them with me. Seven hundred years of sleep, yet I have been fortunate enough that my looks have scarcely changed," Gao Yang said with a faint smile, watching Andrew's shifting, uncertain face. "If you can manage it, you might even seek out elven mercenaries who took part in the Second Pioneering and now live in seclusion in the mountains—there may well be some among them who still remember me."
"No, that won't be necessary," Viscount Andrew said, waving his hand. He kneaded his brow, feeling that what was unfolding before him was truly not the sort of business he was equipped to handle. "Since it is a legendary hero such as yourself... sleeping seven hundred years and then resurrecting—such a thing may well be possible, I suppose."
So he said, yet any perceptive observer could see at a glance that the viscount still likely did not much believe in Gao Yang's identity. He was merely, in his half-doubt, seeking some pretext to suspend the discussion for the time being.