Turning Chapter 1260

Kishiar’s reply came without faltering as his hand continued its work on the blade.

“Yes. I was aware.”

“…I had assumed everything would be alright as long as no lives were lost. Knowing it would unfold like this, perhaps I should have exerted more pressure on them.”

“Even then, an outcome like this would have eventually materialized.”

Yuder observed the steady rhythm of the cloth moving across the sword’s sharp edge.

“Because I wouldn’t have relied on others and would have ventured out alone anyway?”

“No. Because of my actions.”

Yuder’s eyes widened subtly at Kishiar’s unexpected assertion. Kishiar maintained his composure as he elaborated.

“The Cavalry has experienced relative ease in their duties thus far because I intended it to be so. I cited the incomplete system establishment as justification to delegate more demanding tasks to the Peleta Knights.”

“That’s…”

Upon reflection, Yuder realized the truth in Kishiar’s statement.

The Peleta Knights had consistently remained nearby. Up until the harvest festival, they had shouldered over half of the official duties, even if unofficially. Nathan Zuckerman, despite technically not being a member of the Cavalry, had dedicated the majority of his efforts to Cavalry-related matters.

While one might attribute this to his role as Kishiar’s aide, it deviated from the norm.

Admittedly, the circumstances were somewhat unique. Kishiar held dual positions as the Cavalry Commander and the Duke of Peleta, granting him unrestricted authority to deploy his knights as he saw fit. Furthermore, the majority of the Cavalry consisted of commoners who had never even handled a weapon, necessitating extensive training before they could be assigned missions.

Any individual in Kishiar's position would have logically concluded that utilizing the more experienced Peleta Knights to fill the gaps and provide support was the optimal strategy for the Cavalry’s development. It was not inherently wrong for him to leverage his resources and wealth to ensure the Cavalry’s safe growth.

This approach was also feasible solely because the situation had not devolved into chaos as it had in Yuder’s past life—a time when Kishiar’s health had deteriorated, plunging everything into disarray.

During that previous era... who could say what was truly transpiring behind the scenes? Yet, it was certain that the Peleta Knights had never openly frequented the Cavalry’s premises or engaged in official joint operations.

Had such interactions occurred in his past life, the nobility would have undoubtedly voiced vehement objections. However, with Emperor Keillusa still acting as a protective buffer, Kishiar was free to implement his plans.

Sensing Yuder’s dawning realization, Kishiar offered a nod.

“It was a deliberate choice to foster the Cavalry’s growth securely. Even had you exerted yourself further for their sake, the same conclusion would have been reached without a shift in my fundamental strategy.”

Every decision carries inherent trade-offs. Kishiar had accepted this, desiring the Cavalry to mature and confront challenges, even if it meant occasional arrogance or missteps, all while being shielded and gaining strength in a secure environment.

“In truth, considering the potential risks I anticipated, everyone has progressed commendably, learning from their errors. This is largely thanks to you. Therefore, you need not agonish over hypothetical scenarios.”

While the choice was made with awareness, it did not negate the pain of unforeseen failures. Yuder recalled the searing agony he felt when facing Hosanra in their last encounter—the moment the man attacked utilizing Yuder’s own aura. The sharp, piercing pain emanating from Kishiar’s side felt like a physical blow.

And later, as Kishiar carried his debilitated form, the subtle sorrow that permeated his shoulders.

Even so…

“You do not regret it.”

“No. Were I to face that choice again, I would act identically.”

Kishiar’s response was immediate and unwavering.

“Thus, the accountability rests with me. I am the one who guided these individuals down this particular path. To express regret now would be utterly baseless.”

He lifted the now impeccably polished blade, giving it a cursory inspection. His gaze, cool and composed, was mirrored in the gleaming edge of the sword. Yuder once perceived Kishiar as radiant as the sun, but now, he felt Kishiar was more akin to solid earth—not an unattainable light, but a powerful, grounding presence.

Yuder remembered a promise Kishiar had once made.

He had vowed to ensure that Yuder could always believe his choices were the best ones.

That promise had now been fulfilled.

He no longer questioned whether an alternative path might have yielded better results. Such contemplation would be disrespectful to Kishiar’s unwavering resolve, to Ever and the others striving for improvement, and to Yuder Aile himself, who had chosen to place his trust in them.

The optimal choice was not necessarily the one that guaranteed success. Paradoxically, this realization eased a burden from his spirit.

With a lighter heart, Yuder inclined his head.

“Yes. I will not pursue this matter further.”

“Then, shall we commence our genuine discussion?”

Kishiar carefully returned the divine sword Orr to its scabbard.

“On that note—why were you attending to your sword at this late hour?”

“As a rule, I perform this task in the early morning. I simply lacked the opportunity yesterday.”

That single statement held a wealth of unspoken meaning."...It happened because of me."

"There are more crucial things in existence than dedicating oneself to sword polishing. A divine sword ought to grasp this fundamental truth."

Kishiar declared with great gravity—his face shamelessly mirroring the desire from the previous night. The sword emitted a subtle hum, seemingly conveying displeasure.

"It appears the sword doesn't concur."

"Highly unlikely. It probably just reacted because I was reminiscing about a fond memory."

"......"

"I am being truthful. As I've stated previously, this sword isn't some mythical artifact possessing a will akin to humans, regardless of what popular opinion may suggest."

Yuder vaguely recalled hearing a similar sentiment echoed in the vast Sarain Great Forest.

"From the moment I first took up its wielder, I found myself pondering—was this sword truly forged by a deity? If so, wouldn't it be more logical for divine power-filled holy priests, brimming with unwavering faith, to be the ones it acknowledged?"

"Well... that's likely due to the founding emperor being a knight..."

"That's the prevailing explanation."

However, Kishiar had always been the type to scrutinize that which others readily accepted without demur.

"I used to believe that I would never uncover the truth within my lifetime... but the recent accounts conveyed by the apothecary have provided me with grounds to speculate anew."

Could he be referring to the ancient chronicles preserved within the highlands of Gilandre?

"Discovering that Swordmasters from the era preceding the Great Cataclysm wielded abilities far removed from our current understanding—it prompted me to reconsider the true nature of this sword."

"In what manner?"

Kishiar carefully returned the divine sword, Orr, to its designated spot. His gaze, fixed upon the weapon resting on the mana-stone heater, lacked any trace of reverence; it was far more akin to a meticulous examination.

"From an objective standpoint, as a user: Orr is an exceptionally resilient blade that responds to the wielder's Qi and divine power, demanding a considerable expenditure of aura to be wielded effectively. And that, in essence, is its entirety."

A priest, upon hearing such a declaration, would likely collapse on the spot.

"It's difficult to ascertain definitively what triggers specific reactions—we possess limited comparative data. The sole certainty I've established is that it reacts most powerfully to the aura of an individual it recognizes as its rightful master. That quality is indeed singular... yet, the apothecary's narratives recounted artifacts even more extraordinary than this, did they not?"

"......"

"Therefore, I entertain the possibility that this sword is not a divine creation, but rather a remnant from that ancient epoch. Preserved perhaps because the founding emperor held it in high regard—it survived the Cataclysm when virtually all other such relics either vanished or were annihilated."

His crimson eyes meticulously traced every contour of the sword.

"A fortunate relic from the time before the Great Cataclysm, later embellished with the status of a legendary divine weapon for the sake of historical narrative... or perhaps, akin to Luma, it was an item intentionally left behind by someone from the past for the benefit of the future. This contemplation has indeed crossed my mind."

He had claimed to be polishing his sword now because he missed the opportunity earlier that day—but perhaps, more than that, he had desired to scrutinize it under the daylight, seeking any tangible proof supporting his theory.

Kishiar then turned his attention towards Yuder, a distinct brightness illuminating his features.

"Very well then, shall we commence with this?"

He extended several sheets of parchment towards Yuder.

Prominently displayed at the top was a name: Cantinto.

"This pertains to an investigation conducted on members of the Cantinto family who are presently residing outside the capital."