Fate
Fate
Where was this?
It was the command tent within the camp of the self-proclaimed 'Margrave of Levien Escort Unit' set up on the outskirts of Ogwen.
Who was I?
A thoroughly cowed Eldmia who'd been overwhelmed by the atmosphere and dragged along without so much as a peep when Ragnis ordered me to accompany her.
Seriously, did this make any sense? The Ragnis I'd known was nowhere to be seen. She was pure nobility now. Did noble education start at age one or something? I was so intimidated that I couldn't understand how she'd hidden that kind of presence all this time.
The carriage the soldiers had escorted was meant to carry Ragnis away. Just as if no words were needed beyond a suffocating greeting, Ragnis climbed straight into the carriage, and I shivered, wondering if I was being kidnapped all the way to the capital—but luckily, that wasn't the case. From what I heard, they were staying for about three days to receive supplies in the city and a report on the prior kidnapping.
Five people had ridden on horseback, but only two were accompanying us now: Sir Ekaf and Ragnis's mentor. In practice, these two represented the escort unit. The others seemed to be adjutants.
They wanted Ragnis to tell them what had happened herself. And they didn't mean only Delt's kidnapping—they wanted the entire story of what she'd been through since the Margrave's territory was destroyed. Ragnis had expected as much and spent the wait for the escort organizing her account in her room, so she laid everything out cleanly and clearly.
Only after it was all sorted out did personal topics finally start to trickle in.
"I never imagined the Margrave would be staying in Ogwen."
I spent that entire stretch sitting there like an awkward spare sack of grain, too intimidated even to go to the bathroom and carefully rationing my sips of tea. I had no idea why I needed to be there at all, while they talked as though poor Eldmia didn't exist. Ragnis had warned me in the carriage that this was how it would be—that etiquette got awkward when nobles held a formal conversation in front of a non-noble—but knowing that didn't make sitting there meekly any more comfortable.
Ekaf Tusin Ogatorf, the King's Third Sword and one of the commanders of the Royal Knight Order, was said to have had ties with the former Margrave of Levien for a long time. The former Margrave had been the first to warn of changes in the Demon King's Army, and it was Ekaf who'd properly considered those claims, accepted them, and raised his voice alongside him. Naturally, they'd had no choice but to visit each other frequently.
Calling it a favor would almost undersell things; their relationship must've been close enough that Ekaf could openly insist on taking part in this mission himself.
"While recovering, I ended up coming here. Sir Ekaf, you also had a connection to this place six years ago, didn't you?"
Six years ago was when our village had been wiped out—had he visited for an investigation? Come to think of it, no one had actually come to the village, so maybe he'd just stayed in Ogwen, received a report on the situation, and left.
Ekaf just gave a light nod without a word, agreeing with Ragnis. I wondered if I'd touched on something uncomfortable, but maybe he just wasn't talkative—Ragnis didn't mind at all and shifted the topic to her mentor. They already all knew each other, and since they were the main focus, the conversation went on in full swing without any lengthy introductions.
As expected, there was no room for me to butt in. It was the kind of moment that made me miss Asilie with an aching intensity.
"I'll spend the rest of my life repaying the kindness you've shown this inadequate student."
"There's no such thing in a master-disciple bond."
He was an old man who, with his long white hair and beard, looked like a true natural-born mage, but instead of a pointed hat and robes, he wore sturdy-looking leather armor and a hooded cape, with several vials and spellbooks on his belt, along with a one-handed sword too ambiguous to call a longsword and a staff—a truly unconventional appearance.
I thought that if a battle mage fighting on the front lines were to equip himself, he'd look exactly like that, but seeing an elder whose face showed his years maintaining a monstrous physique like some macho bodybuilder was utterly terrifying. Toss some sunglasses on him, and they'd suit him very well.
He radiated the kind of battle-hardened air that made you want to read 'old' as 'survivor.' He was one of the few battle mages who had truly made it to the top. Most people would drop their eyes the moment they met him on the street, that was how intimidating he was. His speech fit the image too, yet he also turned out to be an extremely sensible man.
"Even kingdom law doesn't treat us as strangers. We're family in all but blood, so how could I possibly have helped you expecting repayment? Focus on improving yourself and carrying on the former Margrave's legacy."
He seemed to value physical education over theoretical, yet he was so passionate about scouting talent and training disciples, even going out of his way to do the legwork. I realized once again that you really shouldn't judge people by their appearance. While I was inwardly admiring this, the old man, unlike the others, looked at me and began to speak.
"If anything, I owe that young man who helped you. Sorry for the late introduction, but noble formalities are a pain like that. I'm Radnelbandes Akrisan, a mage. My name is such a mouthful that everyone calls me Rad. I'm Ragnis's magic teacher and the owner of a little bookshop that isn't anything special."
"I'm Eldmia Ega. You seem to like books a lot?"
"Huh? Ahahaha! I see. So you're a warrior."
Was it not the library I knew? And seeing him declare me a warrior, was that some mage slang? I was puzzled, but Ragnis immediately added an explanation beside me.
"Mages call their personal research labs a 'bookshop.' Because the Mages' Association building is named the Magic Library."
So it wasn't the kind of magic tower or whatever you see in novels. Still, I realized that mages lived with books in any case, and just as I was accepting it, Radnelbandes, who'd laughed heartily, spoke with interest.
"Anyway... you must still be young, yet it's astonishing. Are you also coming of age this year?"
"I still have two years left."
"Huh. Fourteen years old? Ekaf, isn't that the same age as your daughter?"
"... Correct."
Whether it was just that he was a man of few words, Ekaf answered shortly but began to examine me closely as if his interest had been piqued. It was Radnelbandes who kept the conversation going, though.
"Killing that Delt bastard—who deserved to burn—in one blow is impressive enough, but good grief! Jumping from one wyvern to another with nothing but your own body and no magical assistance at all? You looked down at the clouds and a landscape no bigger than specks and still had the nerve to do it?"
"We were so high that I knew I'd have plenty of time before hitting the ground. I just figured the wyvern pilot would have time to catch me."
"Hahaha! No matter how you look at it, the Imperial Divine Council seems to have picked the wrong Hero!"
Even his laugh was so barbaric you'd believe he was a berserker, not a mage. Were all the mages in this world like that? I had no way of knowing, since I'd never met a mage directly aside from Asilie and a visitor I'd briefly seen as a child.
"Of course that's astonishing, but killing the four henchmen that Delt brought isn't something to overlook either. According to him, they were skilled enough to even pass the knight exam. You've already awakened your aura at that age?"
"No. It was just luck. From start to finish I relied on luck, so calling it skill would be embarrassing."
Aura users could recognize each other. Ragnis knew that fact too, so when I told this lie, she looked extremely puzzled, but when Ekaf said nothing, she looked even more puzzled yet held her tongue.
"How modest. But your trained body is nothing short of extraordinary. Just who taught you?"
"I have an elf adventurer I happened to meet as a child as my master."
"An elf? I'd never mean to disparage elves, but I've never seen a muscular elf like you before."
"As for physical training, well, it just happened."
"Huh. If they ever learn that a body can end up like that just by chance, all those knight order bastards will wail in despair."
Whether it was because he wasn't a noble or just his personality, he spoke without restraint even with a knight commander right beside him. And as if such frank speech were familiar, Ekaf didn't mind at all and, after some deliberation, asked me a question.
"I can't help but agree with Radnelbandes. How long have you been training?"
"I began at age eight and trained consistently without hindering my growth."
"Eight? Are you from a knight family?"
Since it was a perfectly natural thought, I was about to answer calmly when Ragnis grabbed my hand and put a stop to it. Wondering what was up, I looked at her, and with a quite serious expression, she met my eyes once and answered in my place.
"He is the sole survivor of the Demon King's Army's attack six years ago. He has trained to avenge his deceased parents and the people of his village."
"What?!"
"There was a survivor...?"
Unlike Radnelbandes, who was shocked and startled, Ekaf only reacted by widening his eyes, then looked at me with an odd expression.
"...The Pantheon."
"Huh?"
"Two graves made next to the collapsed Pantheon. The bandits' corpses. Five? No, was it six?"
A chill ran down my spine. Was this guy a shaman instead of a knight or what? Radnelbandes and I both stared at Ekaf in open confusion, but he only muttered with an expression of disbelief.
"That was you...? No, how could an eight-year-old child have done that?"
Holy shit. When he said he had visited Ogwen six years ago, had he meant that he had personally scouted the ruins of my village?
I turned to Ragnis. Her expression had not changed; apparently, she had already guessed as much.
Without a word, she simply tightened her grip on the hand she was holding.