Chapter 4

One week had passed since the grand banquet at the Wintercrown Estate.

The train carrying Second Lieutenant Aethlyn Wintercrown was making its way toward the Pharos border region.

Anyone could tell she was a freshly commissioned officer.

Her uniform, her posture—everything about her radiated rigid discipline.

Her neatly pressed officer’s uniform was free of even the slightest wrinkle, and her peaked cap sat perfectly in place.

Her posture was no different.

Despite having been on the train for over five hours, enough time for anyone to grow tired, Aethlyn still sat with her back perfectly straight, as though it formed a precise ninety-degree angle.

Her appearance was equally immaculate.

She had a slender face and cool, sharp eyes.

Her naturally radiant blonde hair was tightly tied beneath her officer’s cap so that not a single strand swayed loose.

The train car bound for Pharos was sparsely occupied.

There wasn’t a single civilian aboard.

Aside from Aethlyn, everyone was a soldier belonging to the Morning Star Alliance.

That wasn’t surprising.

Pharos was, quite frankly, an unremarkable country.

It wasn’t home to many mages like the Republic of Esta or the Kingdom of Barbaros.

Nor was it an engineering powerhouse like Kunetz.

Without the protection of Esta and the Alliance, the small nation would have long since been conquered by the Barbaros Empire.

Most of the soldiers appeared to be returning to the front after a brief leave, chatting back and forth as they aired their grievances.

“Damn it. I can’t believe I’m going back to eating those tasteless canned sardines.”

“Blegh… Just thinking about them makes me want to throw up.”

“Fuck, they’re still a hell of a lot better than eating nothing but mashed turnips for an entire month.”

“Wasn’t that because some general embezzled the supplies? Bastards.”

The moment mashed turnips came up, the soldiers all grimaced.

They clearly hated the memory.

Aethlyn, on the other hand, remained perfectly composed.

Anyone looking at her would have thought she was headed somewhere entirely different.

It had been three days since she’d completed the Republic of Esta’s Magic Army officer program and earned the rank of Second Lieutenant.

Her heart was overflowing with determination.

Once again, she repeated the vow she’d already made countless times.

‘I won’t let this opportunity slip away.’

A chance to bring glory to her family.

A chance to follow in the footsteps of her great ancestors.

A chance to be recognized as the next head of House Wintercrown.

Without realizing it, she clenched both her shoulders and her fists.

Then—

“Ugh…”

A sharp pain shot through her left hand.

A quiet groan escaped her lips.

‘Damn… I thought it was finally getting better.’

With a troubled sigh, Aethlyn looked down at her left hand.

Hidden beneath her white glove was an ugly, wedge-shaped scar across the back of it.

It was vicious enough to make anyone wince just by looking at it.

Yet there was no grand story behind it.

Twelve years ago, when Aethlyn was fourteen…

She had been bitten by a dog.

A stray dog she’d happened to take in.

It had been an utterly foolish accident.

A stupid…

Meaningless…

Careless mistake.

The problem was that because of that insignificant accident…

Her entire future as a mage had nearly been destroyed.

What did an injured left hand have to do with becoming a mage?

Everything.

A mage’s left hand was indispensable for casting spells.

To explain it more precisely…

Casting a spell required three things.

First, internally, one had to open their magical circuits and draw up aether.

Second, one had to recite the incantation aloud.

Third, one had to precisely manipulate the fingers of the left hand to form the magic circle.

If even one of those three failed…

The spell simply wouldn’t work.

To injure the very hand that mattered more to a mage than their own heart…

All because she’d insisted on caring for a stray dog.

And there was no one else to blame.

It had all been Aethlyn’s fault.

Even now, she vividly remembered the conversation she’d overheard among the family elders in the smoking room of the estate.

“I’m deeply disappointed in Aethlyn. I thought she was a calm and intelligent child, yet she went and raised some stray mutt only to end up like this.”

“Still, we’re fortunate. Arthur was with her when that beast went rabid, wasn’t he? If he’d been hurt too…”

“House Wintercrown would’ve been finished. The branch families would’ve taken over.”

“What I don’t understand is this—what did Aethlyn see in that ugly black dog? Even after the butler strongly objected, she insisted nothing would happen.”

“Perhaps losing her birth mother at such a young age affected her more than we realized. In the end… she’s still just a child.”

When fourteen-year-old Aethlyn overheard those words…

The first emotion she felt wasn’t anger.

It was shame.

She was so ashamed of herself she thought she might lose her mind.

Ashamed of everything.

Ashamed that she’d stubbornly insisted on bringing a wild animal into the house.

Ashamed that she’d been careless enough to let it bite her left hand.

Ashamed that she had nearly gotten not only herself, but her younger brother hurt as well.

Ashamed that she’d almost put House Wintercrown itself at risk.

But more than anything else…

The thing she found most humiliating…

Was that she’d grown attached to such a worthless beast in the first place.

What had made her so confident?

She’d truly believed she understood an animal that couldn’t even speak.

She’d convinced herself they’d become special friends.

She’d believed she’d earned its trust, even without words.

In the end…

She’d behaved like nothing more than a naive little child.

And so…

Aethlyn reflected on her mistake.

She reflected…

And spent the next twelve years living with relentless discipline.

Other than the time she needed for essentials like eating and sleeping, Aethlyn devoted nearly every waking moment to rehabilitating her magical circuits.

Against all odds, she was accepted into the Magic Academy.

By the time she graduated, she had recovered enough to wield almost all of her original magical power.

The only problem was that, every so often, the scar on the back of her left hand would flare up with a sharp, needle-like pain…

Or her fingers would go numb.

The sudden pain cast a dark shadow over Aethlyn’s high spirits.

Still, she quickly steadied herself.

‘Don’t worry about problems before they happen. The pain has always been there, and it hasn’t affected my ability to cast magic.’

Forcing down the anxiety slowly creeping into her mind, Aethlyn turned her gaze toward the window.

As she passed the time watching the scenery roll by, the train gradually approached its destination.

With a sharp whistle, it slowed to a stop before finally pulling into the platform.

The locks on the passenger cars released all at once, and the waiting passengers began filing out.

Aethlyn remained seated until nearly everyone else had left before rising to her feet.

Carrying a briefcase in one hand, she stepped onto the platform.

Immediately, she felt people stealing glances at her.

She could hear whispers as well.

“Holy… Is that an Esta Magic Army officer’s cap? What’s a Republic mage doing here? I thought mages traveled by teleportation.”

“Who cares? Don’t stare. They’re scary. Let’s get out of here.”

She had known mages were rare around here, but she hadn’t expected people to react so strongly.

‘This really isn’t Esta.’

‘If people are going to react like this everywhere I go, it’s going to get annoying.’

Clicking her tongue softly, Aethlyn straightened her uniform one last time.

Then she heard a youthful voice behind her.

“Are you Second Lieutenant Wintercrown, ma’am?”

She turned around.

Standing there was a rather absentminded-looking young soldier.

His eyes were just as wide as everyone else’s after spotting the Magic Army officer’s cap on her head.

“That’s right. I’m Second Lieutenant Aethlyn Wintercrown.”

“Y-Yes, ma’am! Please follow—”

“State your rank and name properly first.”

Aethlyn fixed him with a stern stare.

His shoulders instantly stiffened.

He snapped a salute and shouted at the top of his lungs.

“Yes, ma’am! Private First Class Marcel, Alpha Company, Golden Battalion, 13th Division!”

“Good. Lead the way.”

Returning the salute, she gave a small nod.

“Yes, ma’am!”

Aethlyn and the driver sent to meet her, Private First Class Marcel, climbed into a military jeep.

The vehicle rattled along the rough dirt road.

Their destination was Kran, the foremost military outpost on the eastern front of Pharos.

About an hour passed.

…

‘I tried not to pay attention to it.’

Aethlyn let out a long sigh inwardly.

It wasn’t anything serious.

The problem was that Private First Class Marcel kept sneaking glances at her while driving.

Once or twice would’ve been understandable.

But he’d been doing it for the entire ride, and it was becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

Unable to ignore it any longer, she finally spoke.

“Private First Class Marcel.”

“…Huh? Yes! Yes, ma’am! Private First Class Marcel!”

“Is this your first time seeing a mage?”

“Yes… I mean, yes!”

“‘Yes… I mean, yes?’ What kind of answer is that?”

“I’ve seen mages from a distance plenty of times! But this is my first time seeing one this close!”

“I see.”

“I always thought all mages traveled by teleportation.”

“They can. It’s just inefficient in a lot of ways. After a long-distance teleport, you’re practically useless for three days. Taking the train is much more practical.”

“I see…”

“What? Disappointed you didn’t get to see me teleport?”

“No, ma’am!”

The two exchanged a few trivial remarks.

Then—

A shrill, bloodcurdling scream suddenly echoed nearby.

Sshhhiiiiiiiii—

The piercing sound scraped against her eardrums.

Startled, Aethlyn immediately looked out the window.

The instant she saw it…

She froze.

A massive black wyvern was gliding across the pale gray sky.

It was difficult to make out from the ground, but there was almost certainly an Imperial Army wyvern officer riding on its back.