IRE 49

chapter 49

The conflict between the two had continued ever since they left El Lien.

Because that conflict involved each side’s beliefs and their understanding of those beliefs, neither side would yield — yet their clashes remained measured.

“Ha. Estain, isn’t that precisely why we should try to resolve this matter as peacefully as possible? At least we’ve delivered our position; let’s trust that and wait. If this Eldmir truly isn’t a traitor but an innocent, then all of this will be resolved as if it never happened.”

“…….”

Let’s trust and wait.

To that, Estain had no more words.

He knew as well as anyone why the Sentinel before him followed the elders’ orders, and why, even while listening to his opinion, he acted the way he did.

Still, what displeased him, displeased him.

This situation — which clashed with his convictions and his sense of what was right — still left him feeling nothing but irritation.

So while the pointless standoff dragged on, a voice cut between them.

“Estain, you’re acting far too worked up — that’s not like you.”

The one who stepped in was Ervan.

He was one of the elves who had confronted Eldmir together with Estain.

“You two, cool your heads. We’ve come this far — what good will fighting more do? Estain, I understand how you feel, but the situation’s already happened. It’s too late. If we wait, we’ll soon see whether he’s really a traitor or, as you say, still embodying the spirit of the forest. All we can do is wait.”

At that, the anger filling Estain’s chest slowly began to cool.

As he calmed and his heated mind cooled, Estain was able to reflect on his own behavior to some extent.

Ickras was an elf so stubborn that the adjective “rigid” fit him well, and at the same time he was an El Sentinel he respected.

They rarely agreed, and often opposed each other, but their disputes stemmed purely from different ways of thinking — not because one was right and the other wrong.

That was why, even when they clashed, neither could bring themselves to hate or resent the other.

Above all, Estain couldn’t refute Ickras’s suggestion — “let’s trust and wait.”

“…Let me say one last thing. Whether he’s a traitor or not, I don’t think approaching this the way you are now will peacefully resolve things.”

Estain could not forget how that young elf had seemed like a single lethal arrow in the past.

Even if they brought tens of Sentinels, one arrow could become a dozen, but he doubted the result would change.

Moreover, even if he hadn’t seen it himself, wasn’t that the person who had once taken on eight War Hammers alone?

If they recklessly tried force, it would be obvious — without deep thought — which side would incur the worse of it.

“Thanks for the warning.”

That was the end of their exchange.

Estain ended the conversation with a sigh and turned away.

But his footsteps didn’t take him far; he remained among the group of Sentinels.

“You’re not yourself,” Ervan said as he approached from behind.

“You were too worked up this time. Usually when someone gets riled, you’re the one to calm them down — not the other way around.”

“…True.”

“I know you don’t want to be here, but it’s ridiculous to come all this way only to square off with Ickras. If you’d refused from the start that would’ve been one thing — but doing that now is just irresponsible.”

“…I have no face to show.”

“Enough. I know this conversation is pointless.”

Ervan scratched the back of his head, looking irritated.

“I didn’t like this business from the start either. That brat Eldmir rubs me the wrong way too, but that doesn’t make him a traitor. I saw with my own eyes.”

Ervan agreed with Estain about Eldmir.

Eldmir might be odd, but “traitor” didn’t fit him.

To Ervan, Eldmir’s habits and rough speech were eccentric, but his skill and the forest-spirit he held were firm.

“Sure, the elders’ decision this time was strange. Before, even if we complained, we didn’t oppose them — fine. But this time, even after you revealed how strongly you opposed it, they didn’t offer us any explanation. We’ve served this village for over two hundred years; how could they do that to us?”

Ervan grumbled.

They had devoted themselves to the village and guarded the forest’s justice for two centuries — yet the elders seemed to be listening more to the words of those Chi Taen elves who suddenly showed up than to them. It was enough to make one feel ashamed.

If only the elders had at least given some grounds to rebut the claim, something to make it somewhat believable — instead, they simply enforced it.

“Honestly, the suspicious ones aren’t Eldmir but those Chi Taen fellows. Truth be told, Ickras would’ve already interrogated them if not for the elders’ orders. I know he knows that.”

It was infuriating that he followed orders even knowing better.

Ervan sighed but, unwilling to insult Ickras’s loyalty, stopped there. Estain did the same, keeping silent.

“If it turns out that young elf is a traitor, then we’ll have been wrong. But if he isn’t, I’ll demand a proper explanation from the elders about how this was handled,” Ervan said, as if making a vow.

At that moment—

“I see some familiar faces.”

A voice suddenly sounded.

There had been no sign, no presence — the voice simply came.

But that wasn’t what surprised them.

What truly startled them was the owner of the voice.

“Eldmir?”

Someone responded to Estain’s whisper.

“Is that Eldmir who’s here?”

Ickras also looked at the youth addressed by that name with a cautious expression.

Next to the young man called Eldmir stood a burly old elf of perhaps 190 cm and another elf who seemed to be his ward or lieutenant.

Judging by the ward’s expression — a sickly, bluish tinge beyond mere gloom — a sense rose in them that whatever this Le Rueil business was, it wouldn’t be easily resolved.

Instinctively, Estain felt the reason lay not with the potentially treacherous Eldmir, but in the elderly elf standing beside him.

He didn’t know who that elf was, but the scars on his face and his distinctive tall build seemed oddly familiar, stirring a dormant memory.

“The elder is…?” Estain’s words trailed off, hit by the frustration of something on the verge of recollection.

The elder called Atrakhal wore a blasé expression; Eldmir showed no reaction at all. In fact, he didn’t seem to care enough to even look.

He greeted them nonchalantly while keeping Estain and Ervan squarely in his sight.

“It’s been a while. Three weeks or so?”

“…I see.”

“Wait, is this really that brat from before?”

Ervan suddenly stepped up to Eldmir.

Eldmir wore an expression of displeasure at the sudden approach.

He hadn’t expected Ervan to rush him so directly, and the awkwardness showed plainly.

“The atmosphere has changed quite a bit. Your appearance too.”

“You haven’t changed,” Eldmir replied. “What’s your name…?”

“Ervan. Ervan Ersian.”

“Oh, I remember. How’s your brother been?”

“I’ve been fine… but I hear you’ve been through a lot. You’ve changed a lot — in look and in vibe.”

Only three weeks had passed.

Eldmir gave a wry smile in response.

Ervan took that smile to mean a lot, and it strengthened his conviction:

This young sentinel isn’t a traitor.

They hadn’t exchanged many words nor heard much of each other’s stories, but Ervan somehow felt that way.

If anything, his suspicion of the Chi Taen elves deepened.

At that point Estain addressed the elder.

“Atrakhal, aren’t you… Atrakhal Elaz?”

Atrakhal?

Atrakhal Elaz?

Every Sentinel in El Lien — including Ervan — stared at Atrakhal in astonishment.

Ickras was no different; tension started to show on his face.

Eldmir, watching their reactions, glanced at Atrakhal with a slightly awkward expression and said, “Elder, you’re quite famous.”

“Hm. If it’s El Lien, that was about two hundred years ago. They asked for help once and I went to assist,” Atrakhal said.

“The way people are reacting doesn’t feel like they’re seeing someone who helped them,” Ervan muttered.

“They were acting territorial, so I taught those other villagers who came to help them some manners,” Atrakhal said.

Ervan wanted to shout, “What kind of fabricated memory is that?” but his mouth stayed shut.

He couldn’t forget the image of Atrakhal he had seen when he was young.

Back then the elder didn’t look this aged, so he had failed to recognize him at first — but the impression Atrakhal left remained vivid in Ervan’s mind.

Now that old memory shouted like a life-or-death warning: stay quiet.

Ervan obeyed that caution.

“An honor to meet you, Atrakhal. Your renown precedes you. May the forest’s glory be with you,” he said.

Ickras hastily brought his right fist — with index and middle fingers extended — to his chest while his left hand rested on his hip behind him.

He too was shocked at Atrakhal’s appearance but managed to hide it and offer his greeting.

Unlike Estain and Ervan, Ickras was an outsider, so he had no personal memories of Atrakhal; yet he had certainly heard of the elder’s fame — or notoriety.

Perhaps for that reason he shared the tension felt by the other El Lien Sentinels behind him.

Cold sweat ran down his back until his clothes were damp — not visible because of his cloak, but the beads of sweat on his forehead were too obvious to hide. He bowed to conceal them.

If not for his strong sense of duty as an El Sentinel, he might have fled the scene.

‘What on earth… I heard he’s over five hundred years old, yet he seems vigorous as ever…!’

He had known, for a century or so, that Atrakhal hailed from Le Rueil and had retired from being a Sentinel to serve as their chief elder — which should have meant that he was feeble by now. But this — this was something else.

He looked more like he’d regained youth than aged.

“But you’re someone I don’t recall seeing,” Atrakhal said.

“Fifteen decades ago Ickras Kratun joined El Lien,” Ickras replied.

“Is that so?”

Atrakhal seemed largely indifferent.

“What I want to know is why you, who claim to know me, are doing something so insolent in front of the village I chose to belong to. What’s this stunt?”

“Well… we simply heard a rumor that this person was a traitor to the forest and wanted to learn the truth…”

“Who gave you the right to call one of our comrades a traitor? And if he truly were a traitor, he would be dealt with by our own hands — yet you presume to be the owners of that right and look down on us? Astonishing. Since when has the forest’s sentiment become so disorderly?”

“A-Atrakhal, sir, it’s not like that…”

Ignoring someone’s bewilderment and continuing to speak only for oneself was no different now than two centuries ago.

Faced with his bluntness, Estain and Ervan felt tension rather than embarrassment.

They didn’t know what upheavals that unmistakable attitude had caused in other villages.

“Eldmir Arhitea is a precious member of our village and one of the most valiant sentinels who embodies the spirit of the forest. By watching the forest’s borders and safeguarding all that exists upon the land, he fulfills his destiny. Who dares sully the spirit of the forest with profane nonsense, calling him a traitor!”

The old elf’s roar reverberated through the forest.