Chapter 46
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 46
The clatter of silverware in the banquet hall ground to a halt. Everyone had witnessed the confrontation between Jupe and me.
Anyone could see that Jupe was the one who'd been cornered. He was likely plagued by an inferiority complex over his lack of military achievements—that much was painfully obvious. He probably never expected me to strike at that weakness the very first time we met.
"I may not have learned proper etiquette, but I know how to fight well enough. I trained under an excellent Imperial Guard Captain, after all. If you're curious, feel free to test me."
I spun my dinner knife around my fingers. The blade whirled rapidly, dancing across my knuckles.
'In the Custoria family, one's worth as a soldier comes before one's standing as a noble.'
Even if not everyone thought that way, a solid majority certainly did.
Heilas watched our dispute with an expressionless face. Inside, he was probably smiling with satisfaction. This was exactly the role he wanted me to play.
"Luka, stop teasing Jupe. And Jupe, you stop too. Raising your voices on such a joyous day, when we're welcoming a new member into the family—both of you should be ashamed."
The eldest son, Nikolaos, stepped into the silence. He subtly undermined Jupe while projecting an air of magnanimity.
"I was only trying to teach my younger brother some manners, as his elder—" Jupe protested, looking aggrieved.
"Our new brother already knows table manners perfectly well. He was just playing dumb to be mischievous. Isn't that right, Luka?"
I set my utensils down properly, sliced a piece of meat with the correct knife and fork, and put it in my mouth. The taste was incredible.
"I studied beforehand and knew them, but I forgot just now. I was nervous—this is my first time in a setting like this."
Even the servants standing behind us would know my claim of being nervous was a lie. Jupe had walked right into my trap and made a laughingstock of himself.
Jupe shut his mouth and sat down. He said nothing more, just glared at me while aggressively hacking at his food.
Having seized control of the conversation, Nikolaos continued.
"I heard you received the 7th Class Cross Sword Military Medal? I'm not a soldier, so I don't know much, but I understand it's a difficult decoration for a cadet to earn."
Well, there's someone here who hasn't earned one even after ten years of service.
I swallowed those words. One more provocation and Jupe might actually flip the table and start hurling his silverware. Honestly, now that I thought about it, part of me wanted to witness that chaos firsthand.
"It's a medal that everyone in the Imperial Guard wears. I'm practically an associate Guardsman myself. It's nothing worth bragging about."
Jupe's insides had to be boiling.
"I'm the eldest son, but I was born with a weak constitution. That's why I couldn't become a soldier. I've always felt nothing but regret for disappointing Father. Knowing that you're an outstanding soldier puts my mind much more at ease."
He certainly had a way with words. There was a reason he'd been promoted so quickly as a bureaucrat. Had this not been a military family, he would have been the undisputed successor.
"Brother, does what you just said imply that I am not an outstanding soldier?"
Jupe couldn't hold it in and spoke up. He was digging his own grave.
"You've misunderstood, Jupe. As your older brother, I know your abilities better than anyone. I have no doubt you'll achieve great things in the future."
"I'm frustrated too. Just because Father is the Imperial Guard Captain, my superiors are walking on eggshells and refusing to send me into real combat. I'd rather a full-scale war break out with Kora or Bellato. Then I'd finally be deployed to the front lines."
Jupe spoke, clinging to his last shred of pride. It was probably true to some degree. Then again, knowing Heilas's character, he wouldn't reprimand a superior officer just because his son had died in battle. More likely, petty men were walking on eggshells of their own accord.
Heilas neither confirmed nor denied Jupe's words. People would believe whatever they wanted to believe.
Thanks to Nikolaos's mediation, the hostile atmosphere subsided. After that, the dinner and banquet proceeded without incident.
Once the meal ended, relatives whose names were too tedious to memorize came over to greet me.
Through my clash with Jupe, I'd made my presence known. Everyone must have grasped what kind of person I was—and that I was no pushover.
"Nicely done," Giselle whispered as she passed by.
"Nikolaos is no pushover," I murmured back.
"He takes after Father a lot."
And with that, the initial round of greetings and introductions came to an end.
This was my first day at the main house. I still had two more days to endure.
* * *
Soldiers who use high-performance, high-output prosthetic bodies learn a specific way to 'sleep well.' It goes by the grandiose name of the Sleep Control Method.
But the quality of one's sleep truly is crucial—it cannot be stressed enough.
We can go about our daily lives with our nervous systems bearing several times the load of an ordinary person. Even so, we aren't invincible; we simply have a higher threshold for enduring extreme stress. That's precisely why we pay such close attention to resting our nervous systems, relying on methods that seem ill-suited to us—things like the Sleep Control Method or meditation.
I was no different. No matter where I slept, I could sink into a fast, deep sleep.
At any rate, I was currently sleeping soundly in an unfamiliar bed. At least, I had been until three seconds ago.
Who's there?
Someone was entering my room. The lock had opened smoothly and silently.
I snapped awake as if a syringe of stimulant had been driven into my brain. My consciousness shot from the depths of the ocean to the surface in an instant. My breathing hitched from the forced awakening. My body struggled to orient itself amid the sudden shift from rest to combat.
My heart worked frantically, accelerating my blood flow. The senses I'd shut down for deep sleep opened up one by one. My prosthetic limbs tingled as if someone were pinching them.
Waking up like this left my physical condition a mess. A wave of irritation washed over me as I stared at the door.
Click.
I rose, gripping the self-defense knife I kept by my bedside in a reverse hold. Body and mind were fully primed for combat.
It's the dead of night...
I checked the clock. 3:00 AM. Not a time for any ordinary visit.
"Quick reflexes, Luka."
"Captain?"
I lowered the arm holding the knife. The man illuminated by the dim light was Heilas.
"My apologies for coming at such a late hour. I have to appear as though I'm maintaining a neutral stance."
Heilas settled into a chair, lightly swirling a bottle of liquor.
"You... drink, Captain?"
It was unexpected. In principle, smoking and drinking are forbidden for Imperial Guardsmen. Of course, so long as no one does it openly, nobody makes an issue of it—the Imperial Guard isn't that rigid.
But I never imagined Heilas as the type to drink.
"Doctors and scientists say that things like alcohol and tobacco have a negative impact on a nervous system and hormonal balance tuned for combat. Care for a drink?"
Guardsmen weren't the only ones ruined by such things. Alcohol and tobacco slowly kill a person. Thinking rationally, there was no reason whatsoever to indulge.
"I'd rather not add unnecessary risk factors. Learning the Akies Combat Style is more than enough for me."
I declined Heilas's offer.
Heilas smiled as if he'd expected as much. He took a sip and wiped his lips with the back of his hand.
"Let me give you some advice—not as the Imperial Guard Captain, but as a senior Guardsman. You need irrational, inefficient impurities inside you to last. That's the key to opening the box called humanity."
I questioned him.
"...Do we need humanity?"
"The ones who talked like you were devoured by the Legion before anyone else."
My eyes must have wavered for an instant. I carefully lowered my gaze and spoke.
"You seem drunk, Captain."
Of course, I knew he wasn't drunk.
"Make sure to develop at least one hobby or habit that has nothing to do with combat—one that might even get in its way."
"Is that an order?"
"No. As I said, it's advice. Consider it a gift for joining the family."
I felt a scratchiness in my throat. Nothing was lodged there. It was psychological.
"I'll keep it in mind."
My answer was closer to a refusal. Heilas surely understood that.
Just keeping myself sharp was overwhelming enough. I had no room to carry impurities on top of it. No—perhaps I already had plenty of impurities inside me. And I was supposed to add more? I had no desire to become someone like Elaina Kinuan.
Scrape.
Heilas rose from his seat. Today was the most 'human' I had ever seen him.
He gave me advice that offered him nothing in return.
Just as a father would to his son.
* * *
The schedule for my second day at the main house was likewise packed with things I didn't welcome. The one part I found even remotely enjoyable was visiting the family armory.
The armory.
There were so many weapons and suits of armor that it was hard to believe they belonged to a single family. From antiques hundreds of years old to state-of-the-art weaponry, everything lined the walls.
The Custoria family devoted an entire building to their armory. The deeper we went, the older and heavier the weapons became. Eventually we arrived before the displayed full-armor prosthetics. There were Legions and Myrmidons of every generation, along with models that had long since vanished.
"Is guiding people through the armory your job?"
I asked, glancing at Giselle beside me.
"Why do you think I'm studying mechanical engineering at the Academy? In the Custoria family, managing and maintaining the armory is a woman's duty. There are items we can't entrust to outsiders, after all. It's a rather important position. Right now, Mother is the master of the armory. I'll inherit it later."
"She didn't strike me as the type to suit grease stains..."
I said, picturing my stepmother, Eva. In my mind, she was the very image of a noble lady.
"Her skills are incredible, though. Even now, Mother is the one who maintains Father's prosthetic body and weapons."
"Aren't there a lot of arranged marriages among nobles? If a couple doesn't get along..."
I trailed off, watching for Giselle's reaction. She nodded as if it were obvious.
"Exactly. That's why maintenance is entrusted to Mother. It's a long-standing family tradition—a way to prove that their trust and faith in each other are unshakable."
Listening to Giselle, I came to a stop. Then, as if drawn by some unseen force, I lifted my head and stared at an old full-armor prosthetic.
It bore the faint traces of a Legion. Yet it was far cruder, and perhaps because it had endured long periods of modification, the colors of its parts didn't match, each showing a different degree of discoloration. What stood out most was its single-horned head and asymmetrical arms. The right arm was slightly longer and larger than the left—likely a modification made to wield some special weapon.
It was probably a model that stood as a distant ancestor to the Legion. The Custoria family had, after all, maintained deep ties to the Imperial Guard for generations.
I couldn't tear my eyes away from the ancient full-armor prosthetic. It kept pulling at my gaze.
"Luka?"
Giselle tilted her head and looked up at me.
"I was just lost in thought for a moment."
"Even if you're tired, you have to see this before you leave. It's an object tied to our family's history. This is the full-armor prosthetic, Scylla."
Giselle said, stopping in front of the single-horned full-armor prosthetic.
"Scylla?"
"It's not a model name—think of it as a personal name. There's no other full-armor prosthetic like it. It was the custom full-armor prosthetic of the Custoria family's founder... Agatha. This one is never to be taken outside. It may be an antique now, inferior even to a Myrmidon, but it's a family heirloom."
The full-armor prosthetic Scylla, and the founder, Agatha Custoria.
I raised my eyes and burned Scylla's image into my mind, like taking a photograph.