It was when Dagan was thirty-six years old. He had been summoned to the royal castle after a long time, and King Baldred—who had recently ascended to the throne—granted him the title of Baron, along with “unrestricted rights to come and go from the castle at will” and “the privilege to request an audience with any member of the royal family, including the king, upon prior notice.” These were rewards for his numerous military achievements and loyal service.
Baldred grumbled, “It took too long to persuade those stubborn cowards. But a barony is far too low,”—a groundbreaking concession for a knight without influential backing. After all, it was a miracle that a half-demon could become a knight in spite of the deep-rooted discrimination against his kind.
Then Theodora sharply retorted, “Miracle? Of course it is—since we recognized him, it was only natural. Soon everyone will come to realize that all that came before was unjust.” One must watch one’s tongue and hold back one’s murderous aura; even the secretary was foaming at the mouth.
Afterward, a meeting was arranged with Baldred and Theodora’s eight children, whose ages ranged from four to eighteen.
Dagan kneeled as any proper knight would to offer his greetings, but…
“Y–you are Dagan, aren’t you…?”
“Ah! Wh–what… are you scared?”
“Those horns on your head? A demon? Why are you here?”
“Everyone, step back!”
Almost everyone recoiled in fear or looked upon him with disgust at his appearance. Even the first prince, who normally greeted with courtesy, had his face drawn tight. The second prince and the second princess even reached for their swords.
But only eight-year-old Lunarsion was different.
“Everyone, why are you afraid? With such gentle golden eyes and such a calm voice that does not frighten us, it is downright rude to give this sort of response.”
Dagan trembled; though he knew it was disrespectful, he could not take his eyes off Lunarsion. Lunarsion returned his smile, his expression conveying nothing but genuine warmth and respect for Dagan.
“You are Dagan, aren’t you? Thank you for always fighting for us. I heard that it was thanks to you that the siege at the northern outpost, the battle at Landalion, and that huge outbreak of wyverns were all quelled. I look forward to your continued support.”
Lunarsion beamed at Dagan, stepped forward, and offered his small hand—a gesture typically made by nobles to express loyalty and trust when granting their allegiance to a knight.
Baldred and the others were astonished that the most timid and easily intimidated of them could display such familiarity. However, the one most surprised was Dagan himself. The final words of his adoptive parents—the ones who had raised him from an abandoned child—floated back into his mind:
“The world is harsh for you. There will come a day when you will come to hate everything. But please, do not let yourself be consumed solely by hatred.”
“Live on. Even if you are sorrowful now, joy will return someday, our precious child.”
Here was the joy that followed sorrow.
Dagan straightened his posture, took Lunarsion’s hand, and once again pledged his loyalty to the royal family. But deep inside, he had also sworn a strong, personal loyalty to Lunarsion.
From that moment on, Lunarsion became Dagan’s light.
No matter how harsh the battlefield, how grueling the march, or even when subjected to vicious harassment, merely recalling his face would inspire and heal him.
Ever since that day, Baldred made it a point to invite Dagan to the castle as often as possible and always ensured that he would meet Lunarsion. Lunarsion listened intently to Dagan’s stories and, in turn, shared much about himself as well.
“Your Highness Lunarsion, can you already speak Greek and Laspania?”
Lunarsion was exceptionally bright. Particularly adept in languages and history, by the time he was a little over twelve he could speak several languages and read ancient texts with ease. This was not only the result of natural talent, but also hard-earned effort.
“Yeah. Since I have no talent for either magic or martial arts, I have to make up for it by doing at least this much.”
“That is a noble aspiration, but please do not belittle yourself. Your Highness Lunarsion is truly an extraordinary person.”
“Dagan… thank you. Actually, it was you who told me stories of distant lands and olden times that sparked my interest in studying.”
“Your Highness Lunarsion… I’m honored. By the way, do make sure to practice your riding and swordsmanship as well.”
“Huh? In the middle of all this? Hehe, I understand. I’ll take good care of it.”
Thereafter, at the age of forty-two, Dagan was elevated to the rank of Viscount. This was so that he could be appointed as the guard knight accompanying Lunarsion, who was moving his residence to Tsukihana Rikyū. It was Lunarsion’s strong wish—and a pleasing command for Dagan—and the days in peaceful harmony.
However, when Dagan turned forty-five, the “Mark of the Hero” appeared. The “Mark of the Hero” manifests upon the brow of the one most fitting to be a hero at the moment when a Demon King is either born or resurrected. The Demon King, who unleashes and commands legions of demons and monsters to threaten humanity, must be swiftly defeated. And so Dagan had no choice but to set out on a journey to vanquish the Demon King.
Leaving Lunarsion was painful, but it only served to stoke his resolve even further—to defeat the Demon King, to protect the Kingdom of Roselant where Lunarsion resided, and to safeguard the smile and happiness of his beloved companion.
Author: Yohan O
A bit of this, a bit of that, a bit of everything except straight
