The Cog Declares (2)
To call Levi's intuition extraordinary would hardly have been an exaggeration.
…Not that extraordinary was anything to be proud of.
Her life had been so relentlessly brutal that she had been forced to grow a survivor's instincts, and a long habit of watching other people's faces had sharpened them whether she wished it or not.
Even if my intuition is keen, it's nothing next to Master's.
Even so, if she dared one piece of arrogance—if there was a single way her instinct surpassed that of the master she revered, and quietly adored—it was this.
I can sense a person's malice.
Her master caught what was suspicious or alien with an animal's instinct. Levi's was specialized for detecting malice.
Today alone was proof. She had never meant to come. Her friends had urged her, and it was the banquet's last day; her adoptive father, Marquis Jenimia, was paying his own visit to the palace. She could not step out of that current. Levi had been dragged to the feast, and the instant Marquis Jenimia left his seat, jackal-like men came crowding in. She caught the malice pouring off them at a glance.
Yesterday's showing must have been a thorn in the nobles' eyes.
During the terror on the central avenue, Levi had distinguished herself far too visibly and drawn notice she never wanted. And then, as if that were not enough—
Barely a year with the sword?! A new genius appears, and the future looks bright.
His Lordship the Marquis of Tristan chose rightly! Is this the birth of the lady knight who will succeed Sword Duke Felicia?!
Articles of that sort had been printed, and from where Levi stood they were nothing short of humiliating.
Every real feat had been her master's. They had simply been busy inflating the girl far past her measure. It was as if—
They're trying to shave Master's achievements down, even a little. So petty. So filthy.
It could be nothing but malice, bent on shrinking her master's glory however it could.
Levi was not only sharp; she was clever. She had been sorting the present current piece by piece, working her way toward the truth. From the nobles' side of things, they seemed to want to deny that her master had stopped the terror alone—whether because they could not bear the birth of a hero, or because they simply disliked her master. And to check a master who kept charging ahead on his own—
They used me.
Her teeth ground. Loathsome as it was, it was a fact that could only make her angry.
Her hatred of nobles was on the verge of climbing to the second stage, but catching a phobia worried her less than the thick, unquiet malice currently wrapped around the palace.
What is it?
She knew only that some malice of unknown identity hung in the air. Its nature would not come clear. Malice, and nothing more. There was no physical proof, no hint. However clever a person might be, they could not grasp everything.
At a time like this, if that Simon Master spoke of were here, he might have helped.
The talent her master had acknowledged as peerless when it came to turning a mind over. Wouldn't he have drawn far more than she could from the same limited information?
"No use regretting someone who isn't here. Haa…"
"Little Bear, you looking for someone? Tell Kunta. Kunta find."
"…Thank you, Kunta. Your words alone are a great comfort."
"Kunta not just talking."
"I know. But you leaving your seat all of a sudden would be a bigger problem than my worries. You came as an exchange student, so you're under special watch."
"Ku— Kunta not good with complicated."
Kunta, who had been demolishing the banquet tables, had somehow come to stand at Levi's side. He must have seen how low she looked and come over out of worry. He was not the only one.
"Levi, cheer up."
"That's right. Strange people are everywhere."
"We'll tell the Instructor later."
"Hey! No matter how much you hate them, that's too far! That's not something a person does!"
"I-is it?"
"Imagine your family did something wrong, and the Instructor came to your house. How would that feel?"
"……Just imagining it, I feel like I'd suffocate."
"Exactly."
Her friends had come over. They were no longer merely classmates in the sword faculty. They were bound by something closer to brothers and sisters, studying under a single master. They seemed to think she was down because of the noble ladies a moment ago, but she was grateful all the same. They were getting angry in her place.
And so—
"Thank you."
Nothing had been solved. Levi only smiled faintly and gave a small nod.
"…Something's wrong."
"My lord?"
"……"
Roen gave Jack no clear answer. His brow was deeply knit.
They had not come of their own will either. He was called Lionel's heir, and never appearing at the banquet even once could itself become a problem, so he had come on the final day. Familiar faces happened to be there, among them a comrade from the first cycle, and he had taken it for an unintended stroke of luck—until he saw that comrade's expression, and his own hardened at once.
Jan's analytical ability was exceptional. Her knack for reading a crisis, especially, outstripped even Mystery.
Jan d'Arc, saint of the battlefield, had become the Mercenary Queen on the strength of martial power, mercenary craft, and Holy Law, no doubt. Yet it was treated as established fact that an analytical gift no less than those had carried her all the way to the leader's seat. At the time she had said something absurd—It's just intuition, though?—but that was analysis. More precisely, it was the ability to read the flow around her by instinct and then parse it with a clever mind. She mistook it for intuition, most likely, because she had never properly learned how to analyze. That was what made it remarkable. She used an untaught ability as naturally as breathing, until at last her body itself had absorbed it. It was no strange thing that even the one using it misunderstood it as intuition.
…And so Roen's face had set. He trusted his old comrade's ability more than anyone's, and it made him wonder whether something was happening in this palace.
"Not a single quiet day…"
"Isn't that what a royal court is? I read a play, and a book, and they don't look after the country at all. They're just busy fighting among themselves every day."
"And where did you pick that up, Jack?"
"Haha, nothing to do on my day off, so I went with my classmates."
"Just the men?"
"Who else would I go with?"
"…Never mind. It's nothing."
For his subordinate's sake, Roen privately resolved that he would one day roll up his sleeves and arrange a meeting with a decent woman.
And then—
"Oh my. Who might this be?"
He flinched.
"Ho ho. If it isn't young lord Roen. Have you been well?"
"…Judia."
"Mmm, isn't that a little too familiar? I'd be grateful if you called me the young lady of Loengrin, rather than Judia. Ho ho."
"…!"
He had very nearly sworn. Shameless wench!
If the Instructor hadn't warned me beforehand, I would have drawn my sword, you wicked thing!
Eyes gathered from every side. All of them were fixed on Judia, flaunting that bewitching beauty of hers. She was a woman who had climbed in a single stroke and was now hailed as the next head of Loengrin. Her looks rivaled Crown Princess Isis and Irene Windler, and with attention on her only rising, the gazes thickened all the more.
Roen, however, did not register her appearance at all. He only shuddered, remembering how that wicked woman had made him suffer in the first cycle.
"…You really do seem to dislike me, strangely. I haven't done anything to you."
"Be quiet. Before that, tell me why you spoke to me."
His eyes were grim: if she had addressed him merely to flaunt some acquaintance, he would not let it pass. Judia shrugged. She had no wish to earn the hatred of Lionel's likely heir over nothing, and so she did not pick a quarrel here.
Instead—
"It's nothing much. You may know that, while I was taking control of Loengrin, I found there were quite a few problems."
"It would be faster to look for something that isn't a problem."
"Don't speak so hostilely. Anyway, what I want to say is that I'd like to ask for your help, young lord Roen."
"…What?"
"To put it more bluntly, Loengrin is willing to come under you. There's a great deal that needs cutting out, of course, but there are still usable choice pieces. So please think carefully, and decide. Ho ho."
"……"
"If I may add, the young lord Roen I've observed seems to have some purpose. For that purpose, wouldn't it be all right to keep one great noble house as a subordinate? If possible, an engagement with me could build an even surer cooperation…"
"That, I absolutely refuse."
"…That really is an iron wall, to a disgusting degree."
Whether she frowned or not, Roen had no interest. He could not deny, however, that the offer tickled his ear.
…Taking in Loengrin. Tempting.
To accept one great noble house as his own hands and feet would be a profitable trade. They said the house was collapsing, but a great house's foundation did not lie only in property and force of arms. It lay in the vast knowledge, the Mystery, and the influence they had accumulated. In that sense, taking Loengrin was a decent option.
…The question was something else.
"But why come under me? You could ask the Instructor for help."
"Sir Knight is poor, isn't he? You're rich."
"…I am not speaking of wealth. You could look to the Instructor's connections. Why come to me, of all people?"
"Mmm. For one thing, Pierre—no, the current head—avoids Sir Knight. Says that being beside him makes him look too insignificant, or something of the sort. In short, he's doing something pathetic, mixed with personal feelings."
"…Is he an idiot?"
"He always was. Anyway, that idiot was firm about it, so there was nothing to be done. We decided to ask you. Even if you're close to Sir Knight, you are walking a different path from him."
"……"
"Well, that is one reason. Personally, I also agree with not cooperating with Sir Knight."
"Because you're afraid of the Instructor, I suppose."
"I-I won't deny it, but that isn't all. The truth is, I happened to see someone else's dream…"
Steel eased, with a soft scrape.
"I heard you had lost all of a Dream Fiend's power. Was that a lie?"
"Aaah, don't! I-it really just happened! If you've heard, you know! I didn't lose it completely. That's why I ended up dreaming it—really!"
"…Go on, for now."
He was not certain he could trust that villainess. He decided to listen anyway. Perhaps her story would tell him why Jan's analytical ability had stirred.
And sure enough—
"The thing is, the person whose dream I entered seemed to be quite a high personage."
She wore an expression as comic as someone reporting that they had seen a ship go down.
"And that high personage seemed to really dislike Sir Knight…"
The next moment—
May the blessing be upon you!!
Clack—.
…With the king's appearance, Roen thought he heard the sound of something failing to mesh.
He wondered if it was his imagination. Then, as if to feed his unease—
Step. Step.
—a knight was walking straight into the king's path.