(Re:Zero) Warlock of Fascination Chapter 10: An Old Man’s Tale

Chapter 10: An Old Man’s Tale

Walter led Castor quite some distance away from the residential area of the Astrea Manor, the sound of grunts, shouting, and the clashing of metal becoming progressively louder and louder as they traversed a dark-gray cobblestone path.

“It sounds rowdy over there,” Castor commented idly.

“We’re going to the Astrea Family’s training grounds, which some of us call the Garden of Lassitude. Every member of House Astrea, even if they’re a humble butler, maid, chef, or a gardener—is required to train their swordsmanship. Or at least pursue a martial art of some sort, though the former is much more favoured around here.” 

Granted, the pay a servant working for House Astrea got compared to the rest of the Dragon Kingdom’s Domains made the effort well worth it, if they were willing to make the commitment.

Talk about militarism. 

When he initially entered the Astrea Domain alongside Reinhard, Castor noticed a distinct pressure exuding from each person he encountered, the collective force of which had caused him to break into a cold sweat.

The brooms, kitchen knives, and gardening tools they were wielding somehow all felt like lethal weapons in their hands.

And after listening to Walter’s explanation, everything made much more sense.

“Even you?” He raised his eyebrow.

“Even me,” he smiled. “Before I became a Court Mage, I was a member of the Kingdom’s Royal Guard alongside the Young Lord’s grandfather, Sir Wilhelm. He was the acting Captain of the Zergev Squadron at the time, as arrogant as it might sound, we made quite the same for ourselves during the Demi-Human War.” 

Almost reflexively, Castor’s Authority came to life—his ears paying full attention to every syllable coming out of Walter’s mouth. He was quite tempted to ask him about this so-called Demi-Human War, but he could tell that Walter wasn’t done speaking, so he respectfully chose to let him continue.

This was the man who had graciously chosen to tutor Castor out of his own volition, and if anyone were deserving of the ultimate bookworm’s respect, it would be a Librarian.

“Our Zergev Squadron was particularly privileged, not only were we the front-runners in most of the major battles at the time—we were to directly accompany the Young Lord’s grandmother, the former Sword Saint, Theresia van Astrea.” 

I see, this “Sword Saint” thing is hereditary. 

Castor couldn’t see it since he was walking behind Walker, but the Librarian's facial expression had briefly undergone a significant change. His eyes drooped and filled with a distinct warmth, as if he were recalling a fond memory.

“Why’d you switch to becoming a Court Mage?” Castor inquired further, unperturbed by Walter dropping his life story on him out of the blue. 

On the contrary, his monologue was appreciated.

There’s no story more compelling than one coming from someone who actually lived it. 

“Youth. Arrogance. Obsession.” Walter sighed deeply, letting out a dry, self-deprecating chortle. “Before I became a part of the Zergev Squadron, I was content with merely following in Wilhelm’s footsteps, who was both my senior and mentor at the time—” 

“—but something changed.”

“Yes. Something. The part of me that lacked ambition. The part that was satisfied where he stood, was flipped on its head, all because of one unforgettable encounter.” Walter paused, clearly gathering himself. “I saw the Sword Saint fight for the first time, the person who was more loved by the sword than anyone at the time, and I found my breath stolen away.” 

Abruptly, Walter snapped out of his trance-like state, looking at Castor apologetically.

“Sorry, I’m not sure why I decided to go on such a tangent. Listening to an old man’s tumultuous tale must bore you.” He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

“No. Please continue.” But Castor caught him off-guard with his response, the bookworm’s eyes sparkling like a child on Christmas Day as he listened to Walter talk. “You speak beautifully Walter— No, Sir Walter. I’d love to hear your story.”

The Librarian had successfully ignited his fascination in full force. Castor had even purposefully slowed his walking pace so it’d take them longer to reach the training grounds, insistent on giving Walter all the time he could ever want to say his piece.

“Hah… You’re quite the odd youngster, I guess that’s to be expected from someone hailing from another land.” Walter cleared his throat, masquerading his jubilation beneath his hard, wrinkled exterior. “However… I can tell you’re being genuine, as strange as I find it, so I’ll continue.” 

In a world where one’s personal strength usually reigned supreme above all else, appreciation for the wisdom of one’s elders was a rare commodity, and the youth holding their noses high above the clouds was all too common.

“When I saw the way her blade gracefully swished and swayed across the battlefield, I developed a yearning I couldn’t suppress—regardless of how hard I tried to fight against it.” 

“A yearning for her affection?” Castor asked brazenly. 

“A yearning for her acknowledgement,” Walter replied with steadfast resolve. “I wanted it more than anything, I wanted her to recognize my abilities, I felt like there was a void inside me that couldn’t be filled without it—even today in my advanced age, I don’t fully understand why I was compelled in such a manner.” 

Indeed. Love is a difficult thing to grasp. But that’s what makes it so valuable even when it’s fleeting, or unrequited. The complexity of love is the root of its beauty, be it pure, twisted, or unfathomable—its beauty cannot be sullied. 

“As Sir Wilhelm would say, that was the day I truly awakened. I swung the sword like a man possessed. Theresia’s visage burned into my mind each time a hilt touched my calloused palms. It became my life, I turned a blind eye to every other prospect that landed at my doorstep, including someone who…” Walter’s expression grew mournful, his head shaking as he thought about skipping a certain part of the story.

“You turned away someone who loved you.” Castor concluded without hesitation, his facial expression softer than it had ever been. 

“How did you—” 

“There’s a saying where I’m from. Love is blinding. In the pursuit of passion, people often forget to stop and look around them, causing them to pass by fleeting opportunities that would have led to a lifetime of exultation.” 

“You’re… surprisingly observative,” unknowingly, Walter ended up repeating Reinhard’s words. “Castor… could you perhaps have—” 

“Ah. Ah. Ah.” Castor put a finger to his own lips. “As a Librarian, you should understand that it isn’t good manners to start a new story before finishing the one you’re on. This is your time Sir Walter, I’ll be happy to tell you whatever it is you wish to know about me afterwards.” 

Walter couldn’t help but find Castor’s character more and more confusing by the second.

Yet, despite the way Castor spoke to him, Walter couldn’t detect a trace of hostility or patronization, only curiosity and eagerness to listen to his tale.

“I don’t know whether to call you abrasive or courageous… but you have a point.” Walter cleared his throat, continuing. “Eventually, I was faced with a cold, hard realization. My swordsmanship could never reach Theresia, I wasn’t loved enough by the sword, or at least that’s what I thought at the time—only long after her passing did I mature enough to understand that it was I who did not love the sword enough, not a single soul but Sir Wilhelm had the tenacity and determination necessary to reach the mantle of the woman bestowed with the title of Sword Saint.” 

Currently, Castor could only detect one emotion radiating off Walter. 

Regret.

“I lost sight of the sword, and deluded myself that I simply needed power to get her acknowledgement. Which is why I lost hope in my blade, and once I realized that I had a noticeable enough talent for Magic—I pursued a different career path after the conclusion of the Demi-Human War.” 

“Yet you still didn’t find what you were looking for.” 

Walter nodded sorrowfully. “Indeed, I failed to capture Theresia’s attention, but still, I continued to serve as a Court Mage after her unfortunate demise, still under the delusion that raw power was all it took to place me in her field of view.” 

“And one day, you understood that you had viewed this Theresia only as the Sword Saint all your life. Seeing only her power, and not the person it had been given to. You were forced to come to terms with the fact that you had never truly vied for Theresia’s acknowledgement, only that of the strength she once displayed. That your pursuit had been naught but a fabrication, detached from reality.” 

This time, Walter was rendered truly speechless. 

Castor’s insight was—frightening, and the fact that he could say such things without looking down on Walter, even a little, was even more terrifying in a way. How could one listen to such a seemingly pathetic story and only feel admiration? It didn’t compute with him.

“Yes… That’s when I decided to hand in my resignation as a Court Mage. Sir Wilhelm was happy to let me freeload in the Astrea Manor for as long as I pleased, but I couldn’t bring myself to live so slothfully. Therefore, I decided to become a butler, and later on the Astrea Family’s Librarian.” 

“I know what you’re looking for, Sir Walter.” Castor spoke confidently. “You failed to find answers in the present, feared that you wouldn’t find them in the future until it was too late, and consequently chose to search for them in the past.”

Walter came to a full stop, turning around to face Castor, his blood-red pupils locking with the bookworm.

Castor didn’t flinch, returning his hardened gaze head-on.

“Castor, do you mind if I ask how old you are?” 

“Twenty. Why?” 

“You’re only one year older than the Young Lord, however, you seem to possess a level of acumen far beyond your years.” Walter said with a level of admiration.

“Maybe, but acumen isn’t generalized. There’s an endless sea of fields in which I would be no more competent than a toddler, stories just happen to be my specialty.” Castor put one hand on his chest, replicating the same bow he had seen Reinhard perform. “The story you just told me in the span of a few minutes, has surpassed most of those I’ve heard and read back home by far Sir Walter, I’m more than honored to have heard it.” 

You’ve opened my eyes. I now fully understand that my search for knowledge must expand beyond that of what can be found in the contents of books, as sublime as they are. 

“Haha, I suppose I’ll take the flattery where I can find it. And while we’re on the topic, I might as well go ahead and ask you, what do you think? Will I find the answers I’m looking for in literature?” 

Castor’s expression solidified. “Do you mind if I be a little aggravating?”

“There’s only one way to find out.” Walter smiled ominously, sending a chill down Castor’s spine.

Maybe I should’ve held my tongue a little more. 

“I think there may be no answers to be found.” 

“How so?” The butler raised an eyebrow.

“You search for answers because you regret the way you lived. I, on the other hand, believe you shouldn’t feel regret—at least not anymore.” 

“I’m afraid you’ll need to be a little more specific.” He narrowed his eyes.

“You said it yourself, Sir Walter. You didn’t truly know why you initially felt so gravitated towards her. Yes, it consumed a huge portion of your life, but it was all born from an irrational feeling. Yet what you’re doing now is trying to create logic out of illogic. That will only lead to chaos, this much I assure you. You aspired. You changed. You failed. You mourned.” 

Castor clasped his hands behind his back, a faint pang touching Walter’s chest.

“Sir Walter, you have already written all the chapters. There are no more to be found. You’re trying to drag out a story that has already long seen its conclusion—back home, that was the downfall of an endless number of great stories.” 

“Surely you aren’t telling me to simply forget about everything?” 

Castor frowned. “I wouldn’t dare! Your tale is too beautiful to be forgotten, at least in my eyes. Instead, you should laugh at the past, acknowledge both the folly of it, and the wisdom you’ve gained in return—hold your head high with what you’ve learned. Tell me Sir Walter, how many people in this Kingdom do you think have experienced a journey such as yours?” 

Finally, Walter started to pick up on Castor’s bizarre message.

“You want me to be proud of it all? Is that what you’re trying to say?” 

“Yes, pride is most certainly an option.” Castor looked off into the distance, deep in contemplation. “As long as there isn’t regret, then you have lived well. Looking down on failure is only for the arrogant, appreciating its value is for the wise.” 

Walter joined him in silent thought momentarily before speaking.

“Castor.” 

“Yes?” 

“I think you speak beautifully as well.”