Permission From Above (1)

New recruits who enter here, abandon all hope.
-Bristol Sailor Fortress-

~10 hours earlier~

As I flipped through the Sword Debate Chess game record page by page, it took me less than five minutes to grasp Her Majesty’s true intent.

“If someone knew nothing, they’d think it was merely a record of the match between Her Majesty and me.”

But the truth was different.

What was recorded in the booklet was a Sword Debate Chess problem commonly called a Zhenlong.

It was the sort of puzzle one encounters even more often under names like “brilliant-move problems” or “life-and-death problems” at Sword Debate Chess clubs in the market streets, something masters and even novices alike seek out at a difficulty suited to them and take on as a challenge.

It listed the clan affiliations of the vertical files for the Black Chess Pieces and White Chess Pieces, the Kung-Fu that could be used, and additional special rules, and the usual rules of Zhenlong Sword Debate Chess were to move pieces a limited number of times from a pre-set disadvantageous position, repeat sword debates, and win the match.

The zhenlong in this booklet was cleverly disguised to look as though it recorded the middle stages of an actual match.

If it did not contain an important secret, there was no reason to use such a method.

More than anything, judging by the paper and the traces of ink, the booklet was an item made at least several decades ago.

“Since Her Majesty is handing over the Ancient Tomb Clan’s treasure even in her own garden, there’s no reason she would begrudge a secret manual……”

It seemed that this Zhenlong Sword Debate Chess problem, described over twelve pages, had some sort of connection to the Ancient Tomb Clan Kung-Fu Her Majesty told me to master within a month.

I had heard from my master that among the Ancient Tomb Clan’s precious treasures there existed a Cold Stone Creamery Bed, but since I did not know the particulars of the Distinct Kung-Fu passed down within the clan, I could not point to a specific Kung-Fu and ask Her Majesty for its secret manual.

But the Ancient Tomb Clan was a clan to which the royal family leading the British Empire and its great Kung-Fuists belonged.

I believed that among their Kung-Fu, there would not be a single one that was not lofty.

“I’m curious what method you used to conceal the secret manual.”

If I solved the brilliant-move problem, would some cipher appear that revealed the location where the secret manual was hidden?

My intellectual curiosity, stirred intensely for once, made me stare at the booklet as I sank into deep thought.

The moment I saw this, proper sleep was out of the question anyway.

At this point, the only thing to do was to properly run Breath Control once in the morning, and then go see Sir Fawcett.

“……I’m worried whether there’ll be enough time.”

I could tell with a mere glance.
That the difficulty of this zhenlong problem would never be trivial.

The time required to solve the zhenlong and the time required to train the contents of the secret manual and internalize the essence of its Kung-Fu were separate matters.

If the problem stole an excessive amount of time, then even if I obtained the secret manual, it would be impossible to master the martial art within the one-month limit.

It meant I would have to pass both gates to cross the threshold of the Westminster Ancient Tomb Clan.

“In any case, it seems every clan has a tradition or two of bullying their younger juniors.”

Stuffing someone with elixir or forcing harsh training would be one thing, but to throw a Zhenlong Sword Debate Chess problem at me while putting on airs, and tell me to solve it with no clues at all.

Seeing the head of a mystic clan doing something you’d expect in the dormitories of University College, where hot-blooded youths gather, or in the dorms of Eton College and Harrow School, where young super juniors live and haze the underclassmen, left me with a strange feeling.

Even those who got thoroughly drunk in taverns and, swept up by the heart-stirring persuasion of a press gang, ‘volunteered’ at Bristol’s Sailor Fortress to become royal navy sailors would not have been treated like this.

Though the press gang disappeared before I was born, according to the records of naval-history expert David O’Donnell, the new recruits the gangs dragged in became proud sailors of the British Empire after training at the Sailor Fortress and lived a jolly life at sea.

Just hearing that the port city where the Sailor Fortress stood was always filled with the cheerful singing of “Sail! Shiplife Is Jolly Good” and the navy’s official song “Ack! Heart Of Oak, you perky and spirited heart of the oak!” was enough to tell how bold a life those sea-men lived, fighting to win and dying if they lost—truly a cause for celebration, a cause for celebration indeed. Hey-pea-pie-po-pum, limey-limey-cha-cha-cha.

In any case, it would suffice to simply give the secret manual, and twisting it once like this and tossing out an unreasonable impossible problem was not desirable.

It even occurred to me that perhaps Her Majesty meant to accept me as a member of the Ancient Tomb Clan, but other members of the clan had interfered.

“That’s a story with more than enough plausibility.”

From the standpoint of the existing members, it would not be welcome if a newcomer took away their precious treasure and secret manual.

Anywhere people live is the same.

My body had given me trouble, and now was it my head’s turn to ache?

Still, this was closer to my original specialty, so the burden was lighter.

I had already once opened an overwhelming gap and won a Sword Debate Chess match against Her Majesty Queen Victoria, a master of the Unrestrained Realm.

No matter how much of a brilliant-move problem it was, unless it was on the level of the seven Millennium Problems said to be the worst difficulties in the history of Sword Debate Chess, there was no reason I couldn’t solve it.

“Then, shall we begin.”

First, to solve the problem without damaging the original game record, I began to memorize the booklet’s entire contents into my head.

This took a mere five minutes.

Next, I immediately fetched a notebook from the second-floor sitting room and, as a review, copied the memorized record onto paper in order.

And so, an additional ten minutes passed.

However, my confidence that I would solve it quickly soon vanished, burst like a bubble.

As I went over the twenty-page record more than five times, I was continuously seized by a peculiar sense of incongruity.

“Is this even a problem that makes sense?”

The problem-setter’s demand was to move the White Chess Pieces a set number of times and, through sword debates, annihilate every Black Chess Piece.

Every Black Chess Piece was stipulated to deploy a designated Kung-Fu when engaging a White Chess Piece in sword debate, and every one of those Kung-Fu possessed an overwhelming advantage in matchup against the White Chess Pieces.

According to the rules, no matter how I moved the White Chess Pieces, the Black Chess Pieces were set to counterattack or strike in the most effective manner.

Even the power assigned to the White Chess Pieces was markedly—specifically, by at least half a unit lower than the Black Chess Pieces of the same type for every Kung-Fuist except the Sword Queen.

To be honest, it looked like a problem whose solution was impossible.

There was not even any element where luck could intervene, and I could only fail to understand how, in such a situation, one was meant to wipe out the Black Chess Pieces or slay the Black King.

And the conditions the problem-setter presented didn’t end there.

“Why make such a foolish move……?”

The brilliant-move problem’s record was of a match progressed into its middle stage.

Along the way, the White side had repeatedly lost pieces helplessly.

In the end, the pieces left to the White Murim Alliance camp—aside from the White King and the Sword Queen, were one Bishop and one first-rate Kung-Fuist Pawn, only four in total.

Considering that the initial setup had been sixteen pieces, eight first-rate Kung-Fuist Pawns, two Castles, two peak masters Knights, a pair of Bishops, and then the Murim Alliance Leader, the White King and the Sword Queen, it meant they had lost no fewer than twelve pieces.

Meanwhile, the Black side had not lost even a single Pawn, and all sixteen pieces remained intact.

“Twelve short.”

If the numbers had at least been equal, I might have thought to try something, but regrettably, the number of pieces differed by a factor of four.

Though the White Sword Queen’s internal energy was two units higher than the Black Sword Queen’s, if she were surrounded and struck by a combined attack formation, she would not escape death.

“There are absurdly few advantages I can make use of…… It doesn’t seem like a problem made to be solved.”

In the central dragon vein, three of the four squares had been destroyed and were forbidden for use.

The remaining square was occupied by a Black peak master.

Thinking there might be some clue left behind, I stared at the record for a while, but nothing came to mind.

If there was no chance even looking at the position broadly, then I had to look at the details.

I began examining, one by one, the clan affiliations of the White pieces.

First, the first-rate Kung-Fuist.

This one was the Murim Alliance Leader’s immediate disciple who had stood to the Sword Queen’s left, and in the course of striking at a Black Pawn, moved diagonally to the left.

But that strike came to nothing as the Pawn, an immediate disciple of the Black Sword Queen, deployed his clan’s perverse lightness skill and retreated one square with a special movement rule, and with his file changed, that Pawn became the immediate disciple of the Sword Queen who followed after, becoming the Murim Alliance Leader and Sword Queen’s Dual Successor.

“……It feels like I’ve heard this story somewhere.”

It must be coincidence (for I have already reached the peak realm), yet it was a position eerily similar to the situation I was living through.

I was the immediate disciple of Heavenly Demon Red Dragon Phileas Fogg, counted among those seated atop the British Empire’s martial world as the strongest Kung-Fuist, and now, by Her Majesty’s grace, I was trying to learn the Ancient Tomb Clan’s Kung-Fu, with Her Majesty as its head.

If I solved this difficult problem, I might become the Dual Successor of the Heavenly Demon and the Sword Queen.

Just like the lone White Pawn in this Zhenlong Sword Debate Chess problem.

“For now, next.”

Looking at the record, the Sword Queen was, as expected, from Gibraltar Temple, someone who would be indignant if called second in sword speed.

“The Bishop is…….”

The Bishop belonged to a minor clan whose name was not even properly known.

However, the Bishop had learned a “Holy Blessing,” something rare even in the martial world.

“A Bishop who learned Holy Blessing was of no use at all in direct combat.”

Holy Blessing is a Kung-Fu that, by relinquishing one’s own internal energy, bolsters another Kung-Fuist’s power and helps them display martial might beyond their original ability.

In other words, the Bishop had to be excluded from combat power.

The only pieces with any chance of being used in sword debate to topple even a single opposing piece were three: the Murim Alliance Leader, the Sword Queen, and the first-rate Kung-Fuist.

The problem was that the Murim Alliance Leader, too, had fallen into the Black side’s scheme and been poisoned, so his power had been reduced to as little as a third of normal.

At this point, there was no choice but to fight by moving the Sword Queen and the first-rate Kung-Fuist.

“To have to face sixteen with the strength of two.”

To be honest, my impression was that winning was impossible.

“Just how am I supposed to solve this…….”

The problem-setter’s intent was beyond understanding.

Leaving only four White pieces, how was one supposed to win?

“Ah.”

Wait.

Twelve short?

“……So that’s what it was.”

Enlightenment came in a flash, and I found the only path that led to victory.