Caravan.
A family erased from the annals of history.
According to my father and my master, “Caravan” was a legendary name that once dominated an era. They told me that, in the past, the world looked up to us, feared us, and held us in awe. But no matter how many times I heard the stories—until my ears practically bled—it was ultimately an era I had never experienced myself.
That was the reality.
I knew nothing of Caravan’s greatness.
“…Caravan? I’ve never heard of such a family.”
“I thought as much.”
“This old man knows a thing or two, but I can’t know everything under the sun, ho ho.”
Tom laughed genially as he answered my question. Looking at his kindly smile, I thought to myself: Just as expected. No matter how wise Tom was, he didn’t know of “Caravan,” a name completely expunged from history. I spoke to the chuckling old man.
“Caravan is my family name.”
“Ah, I see. But why bring up your family all of a sudden…?”
“I simply felt like telling you a story about them.”
At my sudden remark, Tom blinked in surprise. The silence didn’t last long. He soon gave a wide grin and nodded.
“By all means, go ahead. I’ve felt it since you first arrived at the estate—your face has brightened. I could tell that you truly love this land, Young Master. That’s why I was hoping to hear your thoughts on this place. If you’re willing to speak first, this old man welcomes it. Listening to the stories of the young is one of the few pleasures we old folks have left.”
“Thank you for saying that.”
“It is I who should be thankful. It’s a joy to hear the inner thoughts of a friend. Please, don’t feel pressured; speak your heart. Despite how I look, I quite enjoy listening to others.”
Tom laughed brightly. I looked him in the eye and began the story.
“Once, there was a boy born in a cramped, backwater village.”
I say it again: I know nothing of Caravan’s greatness.
“The boy’s name was Arhan Caravan.”
And I have no intention of speaking about things I do not know. My story will consist only of what I have lived.
“He was a curious boy, born to an idealistic Lord and the most beautiful lady in the world.”
My “Caravan” was a place where the glory of Steel had long since vanished.
“The boy lived a life of unparalleled happiness.”
It was a place where a humble but certain happiness existed.
“Yes.”
That is the “Caravan” I remember.
“The year the boy turned fifteen.”
The “Caravan” I know…
“Right before a certain Swordmaster visited the estate.”
*
When she first left the Sky Empire, the witch Audrey thought of this journey as a sort of vacation—a holiday granted as a gift to someone who lived a life buried in research and training every day.
“Audrey, go with a light heart.”
Even Audrey’s sisters, who were like family to her, had sent her off with such encouraging words. Thus, Audrey viewed the journey to help the Descendant of Steel as a getaway.
It wasn’t just a young girl’s naive thought. To the Witches, the ancient task of finding their treasure had become something of a ceremonial burden. Even with the wisest elders gathered for discussion, they couldn’t find a single clue. Interpreting the map was impossible. They had recruited the most famous explorers in the Sky Empire, but they couldn’t even find a lead. Consequently, the witches had half-given up on this “treasure hunt.” Everyone felt they had done their best.
Audrey felt the same. So many people had obsessed over the task, yet not a single clue had surfaced. It was so hopeless she wondered if such a treasure even existed. Audrey believed this “treasure hunt” was merely for show—a performance to maintain appearances because they couldn’t simply give up when a lead appeared. That was why Audrey considered this journey a vacation.
Furthermore, for Audrey, who had lived in the Sky Empire her entire life, this trip to the Iron Kingdom was her first time traveling abroad. She had set out with a fluttering heart—not knowing that foreign travel could be this primitive and miserable.
Sisters. You didn’t send me on a vacation out of consideration for my schedule. You sent me because you were too lazy and hated the idea of stepping foot in a backwater like this yourselves…
Audrey realized too late that she had been stuck with the grunt work. But there was no turning back. She had spoken confidently in front of everyone and given a bold farewell, promising to return safely. In the end, all Audrey could do was grit her teeth and vow to pay them back later.
When I get back, I’m going to grumble all day long. I’m going to sneak into the pantry and eat all of my sisters’ cakes, too.
Planning her petty revenge, Audrey turned her head. The village that entered her sight was excessively primitive. There were no bathhouses scented with the floral fragrances Audrey loved, no wine with subtle flavors to enjoy, and no fluffy beds to wash away fatigue. Everything was below standard. Everything.
“Mmm.”
There was only one reason Audrey didn’t throw a tantrum in this unbearable environment.
“Were you here?”
Hailyn.
The pitiful girl who had been kidnapped by the now-deceased black mage Jerry Selfit and forced into the world of Magic.
“Why? Did you make something again? Do you have something to brag about?”
“No. It’s not that. I just have a question.”
In this sub-standard village, Hailyn was the only person who provided Audrey with any entertainment.
“When you saw me handling Jerry Selfit’s golem, you said it was ‘a mess.’ Which part was like that? Based on what I thought after your previous answer about golem manipulation, there shouldn’t be a major problem with my method.”
In Audrey’s eyes, Hailyn had talent.
“It lacks detail, so it’s not smooth, but there aren’t any major problems with the manipulation itself.”
“Then why did you say it was a mess?”
No matter how thorny a witch’s personality might be, their essence is that of a wizard. And what matters to wizards isn’t infrastructure or cleanliness, but the accumulation and sharing of knowledge. In that sense, Audrey was finding quite a bit of enjoyment in this moment.
“The problem is with the golem itself. To you, Jerry Selfit probably seemed like a great wizard. The golems that old man made are decent on average, but from my perspective, they’re pathetic. For starters, the way the golem is powered is far too old-fashioned. If you operate it like this—”
The joy of teaching. The time spent laying out what she knew and revisiting the basics she had forgotten. Whenever she spoke with Hailyn, Audrey completely forgot about the wretched environment. Immersed in their own world, they talked for a long time, laughing happily.
“By the way, to what level do you plan to develop this territory? The current development speed is fine, but the location of this estate is terrible. At best, it seems like it’ll only ever be a small city.”
“I agree,” Hailyn replied. “I think we’ll need to absorb more core land later. Ah, if the Young Master receives a new title and land closer to the capital, it would be solved instantly.”
“But then it wouldn’t be fun. The real fun is in growing something step by step from the bottom. When something small and precious of your own becomes big, that’s a thrilling feeling…”
Of course, the content of their conversation wasn’t “girly” in the slightest. Regardless, the two mages—high-level talents who didn’t suit this rural estate—were gradually becoming closer. As time passed, the landscape of the territory changed in an instant. Because it was a place with so little infrastructure, even small changes appeared dramatic. Audrey acknowledged Hailyn’s talent; the girl was a genius at territory management. If she were to receive butler training right now, she was capable enough to enter a prestigious noble house in no time.
However.
If only it weren’t for Jerry Selfit, that might have been possible.
Inside Hailyn’s body was mana accumulated through Jerry Selfit’s twisted methods. No matter what magic Hailyn used, traces of wicked magic would cling to it, and a sinister aura would flow. No matter how competent she was, no noble would want to hire the disciple of a black mage. That old man had stolen a young girl’s entire future. It was horrific.
“I have one more thing I want to ask.”
“What is it?”
“I lack training, so the number of spells I know is small. I want to learn magic—could you teach me a few spells, Lady Audrey?”
Audrey gave a bitter smile upon hearing Hailyn’s request. Asking to be taught magic was a phrase rarely heard among normal wizards. Wizards were, without exception, prideful beings who viewed being taught by another as a humiliation. Yet Hailyn sought teaching so casually.
Audrey looked at Hailyn. This girl knew nothing. For a wizard to ask for teaching is to ask to be accepted as a disciple. And for a wizard, the relationship between master and disciple is extremely sacred. That is why such bonds are not formed easily. But Hailyn knew nothing of such things.
Audrey looked at the pitiful girl. It wasn’t difficult to give a few lessons to someone so earnest. Moreover, since she quite liked Hailyn, she didn’t feel it was a waste to teach her some magic. But once again, there was a problem.
“Hailyn.”
“Yes.”
“I can teach you a little magic. But it’s difficult to teach you proper magic.”
“Is it because I’m not a witch?”
“No.” Audrey sighed. “Because you are the disciple of a black mage.”
Hailyn could not learn normal magic.
“You will only be able to handle magic of a sinister nature—magic of a similar lineage to what Jerry Selfit used. Because it was Jerry Selfit who led you into the spiritual world.”
“…Ah.”
Hailyn’s expression fell slightly. But instead of offering comfort, Audrey spoke the cold truth. Because that is how wizards ought to be.
“Dark magics are not suitable for humans to use. That’s why most black mages modify their own bodies or offer sacrifices. It’s the same for the magic engraved in your body. From now on, the only things you’ll be able to learn are the magic of the Demon Race or the shamanism of the Orcs.”
“….”
“But both the Demon Race and the Orcs are formidable races. The Demon Race will teach you anything as long as you pay a sufficient price, but you’d have to go all the way to the Northern Continent to find them. Even so, meeting an Orc is too dangerous. They’re creatures that challenge you to a duel the moment you lock eyes. Besides, Orc Shamans are all prickly and eccentric beings; far from helping you, they might banish you to the spiritual world just because they don’t like you. If there were a human who was friends with an Orc Shaman, I’d ask them to put in a word, but there’s no way such a madman exists…”
Audrey worried that Hailyn might be too disappointed. However, an unexpected answer came back.
“Oh, there is.”
“What?”
“Our Young Master is friends with a great Orc Shaman.”
*
I finished the long story.
The setting sun had long since vanished, replaced by a cool, shimmering moon. Tom stood under the moonlight, nodding his head. After remaining silent for a long while, he spoke.
“That is a terrible thing.”
“….”
“If it is indeed true.”
Tom slowly raised his head.
“Young Master, I trust you. So I want to believe you as much as possible. That the Iron Prince’s executioner erased an entire territory? I can believe that. In fact, the Iron Prince often erased the traces of fallen nobles. That your parents met a tragic end? I can believe that as well. What kind of memories you held in this land, how happy your childhood was, and even how a Swordmaster came to a mere backwater and destroyed your world—I can believe all of it.”
“….”
“But there is one thing that is hard to believe.”
“What is it?”
“The family called ‘Caravan.'”
Tom’s eyes reflected the moonlight, glowing blue.
“A family founded by the greatest Swordmaster in history. A family that was one of the Great Five Families with the epithet of ‘Steel.’ A family that achieved countless feats, to the point that a Swordmaster personally stepped forward to erase every trace of them. It is hard to believe that such a family could be completely expunged from the history books without a single line of record.”
“….”
“Young Master, I love the history of this continent. I have spent my entire life exploring it, and I have memorized the footsteps of ancient families that an ordinary person wouldn’t hear of in their lifetime. I know of thousands of families. Yet even I have never heard of ‘Caravan.’ Furthermore, the power of a bloodline that eats swords… I have never even imagined such a thing. Truly.”
Tom’s voice was quiet and steady.
“Thinking realistically, it is unbelievable. Normally, I would have dismissed it as the delusions of a boy your age. Or I might have stopped listening halfway through.”
“….”
“But this old man knows. On this continent, things more unbelievable than the absurdities in novels actually happen.”
“….”
“So, I want to see it with my own eyes.”
Tom took a step closer.
“Furthermore, if your words are true. If they are truly the truth…”
“….”
“It means the things I have believed in my entire life are real… so I am curious.”
“The things you have believed in your entire life?”
“The story that a soul is contained within a sword.”
Tom, who had come close to me, gave a wide grin.
“If that is proven before my eyes, I might shed hot tears. I’ve had some difficult times, you see. An old man managing a Hall of Fame that no one acknowledges. Blades that I diligently care for every single day without fail, yet never offer a response. Audiences who pass by without even thinking to listen to the stories of these wonderful pieces of steel. People who spoke carelessly, saying a blade is just a blade and that no soul could ever be contained within. People who ignored my treasures, my dreams, and my romance, and left me with wounds.”
“….”
“If the story of ‘Caravan’ is truly true, then I can proudly tell them, can’t I? That they were wrong and I was right. That my time was not meaningless. That I wasn’t an idiot polishing empty pieces of metal, but a proper caretaker who soothed their souls and loved them….”
Tom’s boyish smile was magnificent.
“So, can you show me?”
“Gladly.”
After seeing that magnificent smile, I slowly drew my sword. Then, I gently closed my eyes. Tom simply watched me from a short distance away. I didn’t explain with words. I simply drew out a certain blade that slept within me.
“I shall begin.”
Tom’s eyebrows twitched. Under the night sky, a sword dance, far from extravagant, began.
I couldn’t know how I appeared to Tom amidst the brilliant starlight. I couldn’t know what my reflection looked like in his eyes. Because I was surrounded by things I couldn’t know, I simply did what I could do, what I was good at. The moment I thought that, a vivid and burning voice echoed in my mind.
『The last thing I remember was the burning mansion.』
A voice that was surprisingly hot.
*
Caretaker Tom watched the boy dancing under the moonlight.
The moment he held the sword, the boy’s movements became as fluid as a dancer’s. From the moment he thrust into the air three or four times, the boy’s appearance changed from the one Tom knew. As the boy spun in place, his hair fluttered softly like a woman’s. Through the gaps in his fluttering hair, the boy’s eyes transformed into the beautiful eyes of a woman. But the face did not.
It was a face far too hideous to be called a woman’s. Skin mottled and distorted by burns. Yet, the gaze alone remained vividly alive, like sharp needles. Just by looking at that gaze, Tom felt as if he could somehow understand how she had lived, what kind of life she had pursued, and what kind of end she had met. The dancing woman, the sword piercing the air, the piercing gaze. As if possessed, Tom muttered to himself without realizing it.
“Needle….”
