Chapter 49

Their faces were now only inches apart. From the ceiling, the sunlight illuminated nothing in the room but the open book on the table and the two men’s faces.

Jampe almost blurted out an agreement right away but caught himself and shut his mouth.

If I give in to the old man’s demand, what will I have left to threaten him with? Wait… isn’t the advantage still mine right now?

Convinced he still held the upper hand, Jampe opened his mouth to refuse—only for Pellod to cut in first.

“If you don’t agree, then I’ll have no choice but to teach you myself. And you understand, don’t you, who would lose out if a clever man like you had less time to learn magic?”

Once again, Pellod emphasized the word clever, driving the nail in before Jampe could protest further. This skirmish of words ended with Pellod’s victory. Hearing “clever” and “losing precious time to study” sank into Jampe’s head, and he nodded, lips parting.

“Fine. I promise.”

No sooner had he said it than Pellod spoke again.

“On the honor of a knight?”

“……”

At those words, Jampe froze, lips clamped shut. Pellod pressed on.

“As Pellod von Crimson, court mage of the Crimson Empire and 7th-class master, I swear on the name of mage that I will never reveal this matter to anyone.”

The oath, spoken so solemnly, seemed almost majestic. The shaft of sunlight pouring from above made him appear radiant, dignified, as though crowned by light.

The surname Crimson was not common—bestowed personally by Emperor Kled of the Crimson Empire. Only the Three Great Knights of the Empire, Pellod himself, and one mercenary—Biel, the Special S-Rank who had once trained Imperial knights—had ever been granted it. And only the highest inner circle of the Empire knew this fact.

It didn’t mean Pellod was a member of some Crimson family line. The title was purely imperial favor.

Watching the old man swear with such grandeur, Jampe thought he had no choice but to follow suit. More than that, he found himself wanting to mimic that gallant bearing. So he opened his mouth and declared:

“As Jampe von Crimson, one of the Empire’s Three Great Knights and a Grand Master, I swear on my knight’s honor never to speak of that incident to anyone.”

The oath of a mage and the oath of a knight differed in words only. Both bound the whole of oneself.

“So then, who will you introduce me to?”

Jampe’s voice carried a touch of reluctance, his expression stiff. But Pellod, smiling now that the game was won, answered smoothly. At that, Jampe felt a strange unease creep up—but it was already too late.

“Gario. You know him well, don’t you? My very first disciple.”

Gario—the one who had overseen that “trial” of the Empire’s new mana accumulation method on knights.

A 6th-class master, Pellod’s first disciple. His raspy, grating voice was infamous, and his temperament was all too similar to Pellod’s own.

In other words, Jampe’s sworn enemy.

“What the—?”

Jampe’s startled voice echoed in the small study, but no reply came. Pellod had already finished his casting in secret and shifted elsewhere, vanishing before Jampe’s eyes.

“Damn that old man!”

Would Jampe really go to Gario to learn magic? Hard to say…

“This way, please.”

The guard who escorted me gestured toward the inner garden. Then he turned back, whispering to the others stationed at the entrance. I didn’t need to guess what about. Of course they were talking about me breaking through the table earlier.

There were about twenty people gathered in the garden. Among them, I counted four who looked to be at the level of Sword Expert, and fifteen more who carried the aura of Paladins. They sat clustered together in their own groups.

Standing apart was one figure in robes. A mage, by the look of him. He wasn’t sitting, but rather standing alone. Probing with Search Mana, I felt his strength. Fifth circle? Strange. It felt closer to a 4th-class mage. How?

“A Sword Expert, is it?”

Someone called out boldly from one of the groups.

“That’s right,” I answered simply, then found a seat a short distance away.

“Tch! A brat who looks that young, a Sword Expert already? Arrogant bastard!”

The shout came from the cluster of Paladin-level warriors. Arrogant? Ridiculous. It was nothing but envy, jealousy dressed up as insult. I ignored it and lifted my gaze to the sky.

The green moon hung there, and the question from earlier returned to me.

Unchanging.

No matter how its shape shifted, no matter how it waxed or waned, it did not change. Change yet unchanged. Always unshaken, even as appearances shifted endlessly. The essence never wavered.

Even when all else around it altered, the core remained. I could almost grasp the meaning, but it slipped away, leaving only a restless, frustrating sense of half-understanding.

I stretched my legs out, braced my arms behind me, and leaned back, tilting my head up to the sky.

“Haa…”

A sigh left me, and somehow, it eased the tightness in my chest. Had I ever sighed before? I couldn’t remember. Did sighing suit me? A pointless question. The answer was obvious—it was nothing more than me checking myself.

Still, I had much to think about these days. Or perhaps, many plans. First, I would need subordinates. A handful to act in my stead when I was occupied. Four would be a good number. Perhaps I could even build a hidden force, a secret faction unknown to anyone else. A private game, a source of amusement.

And once I entered the Academy, would I graduate? That I would decide once inside. But going to the Academy itself—I had no doubt it was possible. For me, it would be simple.

“Oh? We meet again. A pleasure.”

Hmm?

I had sensed someone approaching, but I hadn’t expected them to greet me outright. I stopped my musings and turned toward the voice.

The garden had no lamps; the only light came from the pale glow of the moon. But for me, that was no hindrance.

A familiar face. Yes—John, wasn’t it? The man from Mel’s Mercenary Guild who had guided me before.

Behind his lazy demeanor had lurked sharpness, and it had piqued my interest. Now it seemed he had just joined this group as well. That meant one fewer among the Paladin-level crowd.

I let the thought pass, meaningless, and replied.

“A pleasure.”

I adjusted my seat so that I faced him properly. John’s expression was still fixed in that easy smile. I found myself wondering how he managed to keep smiling like that, though I didn’t find it impressive. Why should I? If I wished, I could wear a smile endlessly as well. The only difference was whether it came naturally or was forced.

Behind that smiling face, I was sure, hid a sharper one. Two sides to the same coin.

That made him dangerous. A smiling face disarmed most people, lulled them into lowering their guard. He would be the type to draw out an opponent’s carelessness in a fight, all while grinning. Yes, a man like that suited me well. Very well.

And more than that—he had recognized me just from my back earlier today, though he’d never seen it before. Keen eyes. Very keen.

“Ah~ you must be an A-rank mercenary, right?”

The man called John—yes, I would call him that properly, since we’d be getting closer anyway—dropped into a seat across from me, still wearing that smile as he looked my way. Good. Keep smiling like that. Sharpen the blade behind it.

I gave him a small nod of confirmation and spoke.

“You’re A-rank too, I see.”

I already knew, of course, but I said it anyway.

Even though I used informal speech, John showed no reaction. His aura didn’t waver either; it flowed just as calmly as when he first arrived.

“Yes, I am. Uh…?”

He trailed off with a questioning note at the end. I understood what he wanted and answered.

“Kain.”

“Ah, Kain. Good to meet you. Let me properly introduce myself. I’m John.”

He nodded knowingly, still smiling, and introduced himself with polite formality. Strange—though he used honorifics with me, I felt no discomfort at all. That was how it should be.

“Good to meet you. They call me Kain.”

I echoed his words in kind.

“Though with that way of speaking, I imagine you’ve picked fights with people often, haven’t you?”

Picked fights…? Not quite. To be precise, others tried to pick fights with me. I simply ignored them. And so, no fight ever truly began.

I shook my head and answered.

“No. I ignored them, so it never escalated.”

At that, John burst out laughing, his grin broadening into outright mirth.

“Hahaha! I see, I see. Well then, if my laughter was rude, I apologize.”

A sly play of words. If his laughter had been rude, he would apologize—but if not, he had nothing to apologize for. Clever. Amusing. I liked this man.