A Knight Hates Exams (4)

Open a martial-arts novel and two factions turn up so often they might as well be furniture: the Demonic Cult, and the Northern Sea Ice Palace.

Anyone who went through a murim phase in their student days knows the pair of them run strong — strong enough that, as single powers, they are called the greatest so often it grows tiresome. And the reason warriors of the Ice Palace or the Demonic Cult so regularly stand as the strongest of any one faction is the strength of the individuals who belong to them. Live in a brutal land, fight every single day, and of course you grow strong.

In that sense, the Lionels were this world's Northern Sea Ice Palace, and its Demonic Cult.

How could they be anything but strong, warring daily against the monsters of a harsh and barren frozen waste, carving their territory out of blizzards and mountains of ice? More than that — in a place like this, a host that fierce and savage served none but Lionel, swore absolute obedience through the generations to the house that inherited the blood of the winged lion, and so raised territory and arms on the scale of a kingdom.

In truth, among every power in the kingdom, they held the strongest army and the widest land. They were the only force in which two contradictory logics could stand at once: the worship of strength, and absolute obedience to royalty.

Ihan had not called them the Northern Sea Demonic Cult for nothing.

'By modern reckoning… bastards who finished opening up the whole of Siberia, then took one step past even that?'

Possessed of latent power like that, Lionel was mighty — a force even Pendragon could barely stomach. They remained a founding-merit house of the kingdom only because of a pact their ancestors had sworn. They could break away and stand independent whenever they pleased.

And there was a saying that half the military might of a Lionel that strong came out of a single knight order.

The strongest order in the North, gathered only from those who carried Lionel's blood, or from the prodigies of the northern wilds.

The Black Iron Lion Knights.

Like the Silver Lion Knight Order, one of only two orders in the kingdom permitted to bear a lion device. Yet the world set the lions clad in black iron a rank above the lions of silver. It was only natural to fear a beast that reigned over the frozen plains more than a tame predator shut in a zoo.

"You with that knight order — Black Iron Lions, or whatever they're called?"

"Maximus Iron de Lionel, vice-captain of the Black Iron Lion Knights. Call me Max. And your name?"

"You already know it."

"I would hear it from a warrior's own mouth."

"…Ihan. Ihan Turtle."

"Rihan, is it? I'll remember!"

"It's Ihan, you bastard."

A name-game he hadn't heard in a long while. The man was clearly doing it on purpose.

Or else—

"Setting that aside, Rahan — fight me! A blood duel, our lives staked upon it!"

"…This bastard."

Maybe the name didn't matter at all, and he was simply a lunatic rabid to fight no matter what. Forced somewhere along the way into changing his name from Ihan to Rahan, he knit his brow. There was no talking to this one. Did the man think he was some battle-bred race?

'Right. So that's why the old man said not to mix with northerners.'

As Baltar had put it:

'Fight if you must, but do not fight the northerners. They are not precisely frightening — yet once you are tangled up with them, there is little profit in it for a life.'

So he had said, and he was exactly right. This was why one did not lightly wave off the words of one's elders. Even so, he felt wronged. He hadn't sought a bit of it. How was he meant to stay untangled from a man who had charged in of his own accord?

"Haa. My rotten luck."

He'd tasted blood recently, and would gladly have declined for a while.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"—Don't go regretting it."

Shing—!

Ihan snatched up the dagger that had been lying on the ground. Set beside the enormous poleaxe his opponent carried, it was no different from a toy. Anyone would wonder what he meant to accomplish with a thing like that — yet Max, with the man before his eyes, did not slight him in the least. Quite the opposite.

'Good! Past a chill, and into a sting!'

Thrilled, if anything. His eyes had been right after all. Fierce as any man of the North, and the scale of that presence was no human's — closer to some great beast.

Max was glad. Who would have thought that in the Royal Capital, peaceful to the point of dullness, there would be a prodigy fit to claim as a feat of his own?

'Bring this man down, and my soul draws a little nearer to Avalon!'

Max lifted his momentum, and Ihan's presence likewise turned uncommonly cold. Certain now that the other was no ordinary madman, he lost any thought of pulling his punches. This was no light spar. It was a struggle of life and death.

In the instant Ihan and Maximus meant to collide—

Thwack!

"Ghk!?"

"You thunder-naked brat. I told you to stay quiet. When did I say you might go causing trouble?"

"…B-Brother."

"Ill-mannered whelp."

Smack! Crack!

"S-stop! Stop hitting me, Brother! I-it hurts!"

"I hit you because it's meant to hurt. Shall I hit you to make it feel pleasant, then?"

"Nnngh—!"

…In a breath, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the two of them had to draw their momentum back in.

For all that Maximus ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was built big as a gorilla, he couldn't so much as straighten his back while a man a great deal smaller beat him down. Call it fear beaten into the bone. Or the look of a dog whose rank had been settled for good, obedient now to its master. Either way, it was not a sight one enjoyed. It was ugly past bearing.

But Ihan—

'……What is that man?'

He couldn't even find the will to mock the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠pathetic gorilla. He faltered before he knew it, opened the distance at once, and gathered strength into his calves and the tips of his toes, ready to bolt that very second. The preparation of Divine Bow, Elastic Shadow — not to attack, but to flee this place on the spot, which was hardly a dignified business. What mattered to Ihan, however, was not victory or defeat.

Survival.

It was nothing less than the highest value of his life. Let someone call him a coward if they liked; he meant to live long, and happily. Meet an enemy he could not beat, and pride could go to hell — running was the best plan. Charging in was only the worst.

"There is no need for that. I have no mind to kill you."

"…Then kindly put away the awl that's trying to poke through my neck."

"Ah. Quite so. My apologies. Know only that it was not my intention."

"……Ha."

A hollow laugh escaped him.

Drip.

When had it broken the skin? A single drop of blood fell from his flank, and another from the nape of his neck — as if a well-ground awl of ice had driven into him. Not just anyone's hide, either. Skin as tough and hard as a ballistic vest, pierced as easily as tofu. He had very nearly died. And did you know the rest of it? The man had truly not harbored the slightest intent to kill him. That was why he was still alive.

'Ha. There's a monster like that walking around, and the ones calling me a monster are supposed to be what?'

Ihan understood. When people said real monster, this was the sort of thing they meant.

Magnus Julian de Lionel.

The great sovereign of the North stood before his eyes.

…Inside a building wrapped in a deeper quiet. On an ordinary day there ought to have been guards passing through, instructors, or students sneaking in — but today there was a conspicuous lack of all of them. Not as a figure of speech. Would you believe there was not so much as a single ant? And Ihan thought he knew why no one came near this space. With something like that here, instinct alone would keep a body from drawing close.

"Calm yourself and go back in. However much you may wish to test someone, you must not threaten him."

"Haa. I shall offer a sufficient sacrifice later. So go back in, for now."

"I promise."

He — Grand Duke Magnus — was speaking toward empty air, conversing with something. Anyone who saw it would surely have taken him for mad, but Ihan did not. He had, in fact, been threatened by that something.

'It's there. A huge living thing.'

Ihan gathered every sense in his body and fixed his gaze on the empty space the Grand Duke was watching. And then, at a certain moment—

He flinched.

At last Ihan met its eyes. No—

'A lion?'

He met the beast's gaze. It was a kind of intuition, closer to striking true by luck than to truly seeing. Behind Grand Duke Magnus stood a beast the size of an elephant, and that beast seemed to wear a luxuriant mane. It went on four legs; its claws would be thicker than his waist, and its fangs were unnaturally huge, rather like the creature called a saber-toothed tiger. And yet it was surely closer to a lion than to any saber-tooth.

How could he be sure?

'Because I got stabbed by it.'

The one who has been stabbed knows. It resembled the presence of the lion he had met in a zoo, in his previous life. And then he understood. That lion was none other than—

'So that's the Mystery?'

A wonder left behind on the continent. A trace remaining from the age when mystery-races, fairies, and beings like gods had flourished. Looking upon such a thing, men called it Mystery.

'They did say there were those who served gods that wore the shapes of beasts….'

Ihan recalled the information he had taken from Jake the day before, and a portion of what he had read flashed through his mind.

…When he had read a record like that, he had taken it for nothing but a joke. Mystery, a magic sword — however strong they were, how strong could they be? He had been certain they could never stand equal to an Aura User.

Not now. In this moment, he was sure.

That thing—

'Well now. If it fought old man Baltar, I couldn't say which of them would win.'

Baltar Grace. Just as with that Superhuman, he could not see the upper limit of its power. Only now did he understand. How this kingdom, enemy nations swarming on every side, had managed to endure through all those long years.

'Even without Aura Users, monsters like that hold the line. So of course it holds.'

A presence as reassuring as an aircraft carrier. Truly…

'What a goddamn pain.'

Reassurance could go to hell. If the thing would simply lose interest in him, he would have nothing left to wish for.

"—Young knight. I apologize once more. My younger brother has acted discourteously toward you."

Unbefitting his station, Grand Duke Magnus offered a sincere apology to Ihan, who was nothing more than an ordinary knight. He did not seem the sort to cling to authority. At that, Maximus bristled.

"Brother, how can warriors doing battle be called a discourtesy! Take those words back!"

"Quiet!"

"Aagh!"

Scolded by the brother he revered and by the house's guardian god alike, Maximus was flipped bodily over. To anyone else it would have looked like a man flailing for no reason at all — but those who inherited the lion's blood could see it. A huge jet-black lion, flicking a knuckle against Maximus's skull. Maximus could not so much as resist. And truly, what means did a human have of opposing that?

"Nnngh…."

Humbled like that, Maximus could not even think of getting up, and only then did a satisfied Magnus turn his eyes back to the knight.

"…This was not my original purpose. I merely wished a moment in which to speak with you."

"W-with me, you mean?"

"Yes."

"……."

"You may rest easy. The Black King does not readily harm others. It simply cannot gauge its own strength, and often starts a bit of play. You felt threatened for that reason alone."

"…That is not a reassuring thing to say, you know."

So if that lion played its little trick on him again, he would once more feel as though he were bidding this world farewell. All he wanted was to run.

"Hoh. Seeing that reaction — you are looking upon the Black King's form, then? Astonishing."

"……."

…Caught. The man had revealed the lion's existence in order to test him, and he had stepped into it cleanly. Ihan wondered what to do — and then, rather than agonize over it:

"…I can't see it. I only feel that it's there."

He decided to answer honestly. He doubted he could hide anything from this man in any case. Grand Duke Magnus looked at him — bitter smile and all — with open admiration.

"Remarkable. To think one who is not even of our blood could sense the Black King. You ought to be without magic or Mystery alike…. Interesting."

"…Could you stop showing quite so much of that interest?"

"To be honest with you, I am restraining the urge to test you further."

"……."

Goddamn it….

Ihan muttered a low curse, and his head throbbed. No — it was the students who were in the middle of exams….

'So why am I the one being tested?'

Appraised, no less, by a lion the size of an elephant. Ihan's face crumpled as if he might cry. Even so—

"Hoo! So. What did you want to talk to me about?"

"Hoh? You are no longer trembling."

"They say that even if you walk into a tiger's den, you live so long as you keep your wits about you. If it's dangerous, I run. What's left to be afraid of?"

"…I see why the Black King took an interest in you."

Certainly an amusing young man. That dull, stupid youngest brother of his still froze like a mouse before a cat whenever he met the Black King — and yet the man meeting the Black King for the first time in his life kept his eyes open and said every word he had to say. He could not help but be an interesting youth.

"Haha. After His Late Majesty passed, I thought the Royal Capital no longer held a man worth the name. It seems that was not so."

"…Pardon?"

"I was speaking to myself. More to the point — you asked why I wished to meet you."

"……Yes."

"It was nothing else. I simply wished to talk. The Black King hoped for the meeting."

"For only that…?"

"Even if it seems only that, should the Black King show affection, it is reason enough to meet."

Warriors toward whom the Black King showed familiarity came, one way or another, to make a name — whether they willed it or not. And those the Black King had marked until now….

'Indeed. In what manner will this youth leave his name upon history?'

They built feats that remained in the histories. That was why he had wanted to meet him. To see what capacity this young man possessed. The meeting itself would have meaning enough. Some would call it the idleness of a man with nothing better to do — but the less a man lacks, the more leisure he has, and the stronger his curiosity. No. Curiosity itself was the force that set a life wanting for nothing into motion.

And so.

"…Have you no thought of coming north with me?"

"?"

"Come, and I am even of a mind to wed you to my daughter."

"……."

Grand Duke Magnus, who did not hesitate even at conduct this mad.

……From where Ihan stood, it was nothing but a recruitment he had no wish to hear.