Quickening
Quickening
The investiture ceremony concluded with perfect tidiness, without so much as a simple party.
Ordinarily, a party would inevitably follow to elevate the person receiving the medal or to forge connections with the individual involved, but this time it was possible because the proceedings were practically a unilateral notification from both the royal and imperial households.
I'd abruptly become a wandering knight recognized by two nations, entirely outside the plan, but that posed no problem for me.
It carried the meaning of, 'Should you ever truly wish to become a knight, our gates are always open to you.' Some quarters grumbled, asking why the Empire was sucking up to a person from Itisel, but since the achievement of rescuing Esmue was so formidable a title, no one dared to openly confront it.
It was an achievement so immense that it wouldn't have been strange at all if bizarre threats like 'If you're jealous, we'll just seat him in an imperial office or grant him a title' had popped out, so the result was only natural. I heard later that, rather, friendly voices began to emerge, claiming it was clearly a compromise for the sake of the royal family's prestige that ended with a wandering knight. The proof being that they adjusted the schedule for this royal event after long deliberation, or something like that?
Whether even that was part of Esmue's plan, I don't know, but in any case, from the royal family's perspective—being in a position of needing the Empire's support—it was a win-win outcome, as they were satisfied simply that no anti-imperial sentiment arose and nothing happened to needlessly offend the Empire.
However, not everything was purely good news.
"You're saying you're entering preparations to reclaim your territory?"
"To be precise, it's reached its final stages. We'll go on the offensive in February."
Since we hadn't had a proper chance to see each other's faces lately, we'd arranged a seat to talk this time, and what Ragnis spoke of was deeply startling.
The recapture of the Levien Margraviate.
That a plan was being drawn up to avenge the most recent disastrous defeat recorded amidst the ongoing war with the Demon King's Army wasn't particularly surprising in itself—but the fact that Ragnis would personally participate on the battlefield, and not be in the rear command, was something else entirely.
"It hasn't been long since you started training under Sir Radnelbandes, has it?"
"Close-quarters combat might be so, but I've been consistently receiving magic training, you know. The master acknowledged me to some degree as well. So he said he'd agree to my decision if I pass just one condition."
"...Good heavens."
Unless that old man had gone senile or actually meant to get Ragnis killed, I had to assume her skills had risen well beyond the level where she might meet some sudden, violent death...
"You can't believe it, can you?"
"I'm not dismissing you, but frankly, no."
Even having picked up talk of her talent from time to time, for me, who can use Magic Power, the time it took to get to where I am now spans more than seven years.
Compared to that, however much Ragnis has displayed her genius without reservation since entering the capital, it hasn't even been two full years since she began properly acquiring combat-related skills. I'd experienced and witnessed too much to sincerely believe that the magic and spear techniques she'd learned by squeezing time from all sorts of political issues and noble duties would work in territory occupied by the Demon King's Army.
"Of course, it doesn't mean I've reached a level where I can stand on the very front lines. It means I have enough minor skill to hold out until nearby allies can help me if I'm ambushed on the battlefield."
"Even that much is hard enough to accept."
"I know. Actually, because of that, there's something I want to ask of you this time."
"A favor?"
"Yes. Regarding the condition the master set."
What is it? Did he set a condition that I protect her by her side on that campaign? No matter how I think about it, he doesn't seem the sort to set the atrocious condition of defeating me, though.
Amidst the rising questions, I ate some of the refreshments laid on the table and asked with my eyes, and Ragnis looked at me with a gaze full of resolve and spoke.
"Spar with me."
...Perhaps Radnelbandes was a far more vicious mage than I imagined.
◈
Fortunately, contrary to my momentary concern, Sir Radnelbandes's character was quite ordinary, and having heard his assertion from Ragnis, I gladly accepted her request.
Four days later, I received Ragnis's letter saying all preparations for the spar were complete. The moment I visited the Levien manor, I immediately boarded a carriage and headed for Sir Radnelbandes's library.
"Thank you for agreeing."
"It's not someone else, it's Ragnis's matter, so of course I must help."
The library of Radnelbandes we arrived at was...
"But is this place truly a library? It looks more like an armory."
It was a place just like its master. Truly, neither more nor less, it felt like an arsenal perfectly matched to a hulking, muscular warrior like Radnelbandes.
Of course, that didn't mean it was an insane space lined only with weapons and no books—bookshelves clearly existed—but there were just as many weapons, and a training area of sorts was there too. If you grabbed anyone and showed them this, they'd probably think it wasn't a mage's Magic Library but a hideout for librarian knights secretly guarding books.
It was a fairly serious question, but Radnelbandes only laughed at my query.
"Hah hah hah. You jest."
I was serious...
Well, I had no intention of arguing over personal interior design tastes, so I laughed along lightly and followed him. As we went, Radnelbandes's disciples, who had each been doing their own tasks around the place, shifted their gazes to us.
At the exceptionally curious glances cast by the owners of powerful physiques that could be described as pseudo-Radnelbandes, Radnelbandes 1/2, Radnelbandes larvae, and so forth, I glanced sidelong at Ragnis. She let out a small cough and opened her mouth.
"Ahem, because I'm the youngest here and receive some doting..."
"Ah, I see. So because the youngest brought an unrelated man, attention is focused on us."
"Uh... no? It's closer to them being surprised that the youngest is acquainted with a notoriously insane person from the capital."
In that instant, I unknowingly made a grotesque expression and stared daggers at Ragnis, but what came back was a glare from Ragnis filled with the meaning of 'What gives you the right to look at me like that?' So I had to quietly lower my eyes.
In a world of two-eyes, the one-eyed monster is simply the strange one...
"I hope you'll understand. My disciples are still at an age where they excessively idolize heroes, you see. Unlike other mages, Battle Mages have a strong impression of actually gaining wealth and honor through combat, so that aspect is particularly pronounced."
Radnelbandes laughed once more and gestured lightly, and the pouring stares diminished significantly. Though plenty of lingering disappointment remained at the edges, I hadn't come here today to socialize—this was strictly Ragnis's business.
The underground floor we descended to, following him, housed a sparring hall with a fairly high ceiling and a moderately wide space. The strange sense of déjà vu that hit me upon arrival made it clear that space-distorting magic had been cast here, just like in Seneran's Magic Library.
The moment we descended into the sparring hall, Ragnis walked with familiar steps to a corner and began preparing for battle, fastening the pre-arranged equipment here and there. Her appearance, skillfully donning armor and checking the fittings, looked more practiced than that of most adventurers.
Beside her stood the banner-lance and shield I'd briefly seen during the orc subjugation, neatly arranged. Just in case, I used Magic Sight and confirmed a faint flow of Magic Power through them.
Just as I was wondering what magic was imbued in that equipment, Radnelbandes, standing beside me, fixed his gaze on Ragnis and spoke quietly.
"I expect you know this to some degree, but that child's driving force is you. Her magic skills suddenly improving explosively, her following through with my physical training lessons even while vomiting—it was all for your sake."
I hadn't forgotten what she'd said in the carriage about going to the battlefield together, so I nodded in affirmation at his words.
"She's now a child more precious to me than my own flesh and blood, but I have no intention of keeping her wrapped up only inside. Yet I can't afford to be overly indulgent, either."
"Because it's war."
"Exactly. So I'm counting on you."
The touch of Radnelbandes patting my shoulder was gentle. His gaze was gentle enough to be believed if you said he was a grandfather looking at his granddaughter. But I understood that what he was asking of me was the exact opposite of that attitude.
Push Ragnis all the way to her limit and judge her abilities for yourself.
Perhaps the reason Radnelbandes set a spar with me as the condition wasn't for her sake or his, but to show me her growth.
No, that must certainly be the case. There was no way a person called a Grand Battle Mage by the world could fail to grasp his own disciple's capabilities.
"That means Ragnis really did grow explosively in a short time—enough that she isn't likely to get herself killed outright..."
I murmured quietly to myself as I entered the sparring hall. Ragnis, her face fully tense, took her place opposite me. The Ragnis who wore a dress and maintained elegant movements was gone.
Only a freckled warrior woman with her red hair tied up in a ponytail stood there.
"I'll say this beforehand—I didn't bring Laika today."
I loosened my shoulders lightly, gripped my axe, and spoke. Ragnis forced a smile and asked lightly in return.
"What, are you trying to say you're not at full strength?"
"No. I'm saying I won't go easy on you. Clever as that kid is, she gets in the way when I move."
Since we haven't fought in coordination lately, it'd be even worse.
At my flat answer, the smile at the corner of Ragnis's lips vanished.
"...That's exactly what I wanted."
With that answer as the last, without any prior omen, flames blazed up from the pennon attached to her spear.