Magnetic Levitation
Luca, Knight Commander of the Vertian Fief, ranked among the strongest men in the entire Arno Kingdom.
From the day he first took up the blade, people had expected him to become a Sword Master—someone who could pour aura into a sword and project it freely. The free release of that energy, however, never quite came. He remained a Sword Expert, and from that rank he rose to command Vertian's knights.
And now the very Sword Master he had spent a lifetime failing to reach stood right before his eyes.
"I am the strategy. I am the tactics," Lucian said, radiating unearned confidence.
Looking at him, Luca felt a stir of something less than admiration.
Even for a Sword Master, isn't that a little too arrogant? Master Lucian can't have faced another Master before…
And the enemy had four of them. The thought that Lucian's swagger might be nothing more than baseless bravado only fed Luca's growing unease.
Even when the imperial army formed up and all four Masters stepped forward to confront him, Lucian's attitude never changed.
"You're talking an awful lot. You a bard or something? Want me to set up a table so we can have tea?"
He's picking a fight in a situation like this… What is he thinking? There's no guarantee they'll even take him on one at a time.
"If that's how you want it, then I shall face you. I am Maxi—, Knight Commander of the Imperial Guard of the Cardis Empire—"
Before the imperial Knight Commander could finish the name, Lucian drew his sword. A brilliant blade of aura flared out and took the man's head clean off.
That—that's a Sword Master's aura!
Luca's chest swelled at the sight of something he had never witnessed before. He stared, entranced, at that dazzling, blazing energy so fundamentally different from his own faint aura—and then the shock hit him.
Thud-thud-thud—
Behind the fallen commander, the heads of the remaining three Masters dropped in the same instant.
All three died with easy expressions still on their faces, never even realizing they had been attacked.
"See? Master or no Master—cut the head off and it's over."
Master Lucian let his sword hang loosely at his side and issued his next order.
"What are you all standing around for? Go collect the rest of those necks nice and neat. Illegal dumping is a crime. On the battlefield, I am the law. Clear?"
Now it's my turn to move.
Reading the room, Knight Commander Luca stepped forward with a surge of spirit.
"You all heard him!! Every Master of the Empire has lost his head!! The Master has ordered the remaining rabble cleaned up!! All units!! Follow the knights and crush the imperial dogs!!"
And so they claimed a perfect victory. Drunk on triumph, the army returned to the Vertian Fief.
On the ride back to the territory by carriage, the guy who was supposed to be the Knight Commander kept pestering me.
"I would ask the Sword Master for guidance—how one might surpass one's present level and advance further."
Grown man, and he's being this annoying.
Worse, that was exactly the kind of request I couldn't handle.
"That's on you. If hearing it explained were enough, you'd have done it already."
"I see…"
Watching a grown man deflate like that just puts me in a bad mood. What am I supposed to do about it?
I didn't know if other Masters took disciples, but for me it was impossible.
Nobody taught me this stuff in the first place. I didn't learn it anywhere—it's all bootleg. How am I supposed to teach that?
Right. The truth was, I wasn't actually a knight.
I'd trained with a sword enough to look the part, but it was a smokescreen. At best it was fitness for staying in shape.
The aura these world's knights used was usually built by stacking mana until it condensed into a visible shape that could exert physical force—and the mass-to-mana exchange rate was absurdly inefficient. Mages, for their part, just applied water, fire, wind, and earth elemental magic that looked suspiciously like Earth's classical four-element philosophy.
My technique, by contrast, was an application of electromagnetism—one of the four fundamental interactions in modern physics.
These backwards medieval fantasy types could never understand it, much less use it.
Even my "aura" isn't aura at all—it's a blob of plasma. How am I supposed to explain that to these people?
The plasma itself was only a trick to make it look like aura. The real work was invisible electromagnetic waves that disrupted the electromagnetic attraction binding protein structures in a target's cells—separating them as if my aura had launched an unseen slash at impossible speed.
So I wasn't a proper knight, my aura was fake, and I had no idea how to teach a knight anything.
Trying to explain this at a medieval civilization level would just give me a sore throat.
"Backwards medieval types…"
"Pardon? What was that, sir?"
Ah. I'd said the thought out loud.
"No—uh. Look, if you understand that beef is delicious, that means you've already eaten beef."
"Ah…"
"I told you. If being taught were enough to understand it, you'd have done it already."
"Yes… Hmm…"
The pestering knight fell into thought for a while. Then his face lit with the look of a man who had just achieved enlightenment, and he spoke.
"I believe I understand. The very process of finding one's own path is itself a necessary part of reaching the realm of a Sword Master."
I have no idea what nonsense he's talking, but at least he won't keep bugging me.
"Correct, blacksmith."
"I am a knight, sir."
"What's the difference? A guy who can't even project aura talking back?"
Once the wartime situation settled and I returned to my mansion in the capital, I set to work on a way to never have to ride a carriage again—using my personal technique.
Developing a flight technique myself has to be faster than waiting for a technological revolution.
I spent a long time turning over how to apply electromagnetism to get airborne. Then a method came to me.
Flying like a bird would be hard, but hovering the way a maglev train does… that might actually work.
I could probably pull off bird-style flight with some wing-shaped structure and a lot of motion, but the mana efficiency would clearly be garbage.
If you think about it, Earth itself is basically one giant magnet. This planet should be the same, right?
The theory looked flawless, so I headed straight outside to the broad lawn of the mansion to test it.
"Can't go smashing up the house like Iron Man. Here we go, Xavier!"
"I'm Marie!"
"Today you're Xavier."
I pushed my personal technique to the limit and applied magnetic force against the ground—and immediately face-planted into the dirt.
"Gyaaagh!!"
"Good heavens! Are you all right? Why did you suddenly fall over?"
"Urgh… No, it's nothing."
Mortifying… Wrong polarity, huh. Cranked the output way too high without thinking about it. Thank god it was grass.
Through a series of smaller trial-and-error adjustments, I eventually managed to float a little ways off the ground.
"Wow, Lord Lucian—you can fly, too?"
"Close. It's not flight, it's levitation."
"What's the difference?"
"Uh… well…"
I wondered how to explain it to a medieval person, then decided a metaphor was safest.
"If walking on the ground is the comparison—flight is me walking on my own two feet. Levitation is you pushing or pulling me."
"But I didn't even touch you, Lord Lucian."
"That's why it's a metaphor. In reality, I made the ground itself repel me."
"Hmm… I don't really get it."
I'd expected as much. In this era, only a scholar would have a chance of following.
"Eh, you're cute, so it doesn't matter. Xavier—go prepare a meal."
"I'm Marie! I'll tell the head cook and have it ready."
While dinner was being prepared, I returned to my study, stretched out on the sofa, and sank into thought.
The maglev experiment had been a success, but my control was still rough. For the time being I'd still need carriages.
Ah! Eureka! Strip the wheels, build the cabin out of iron, and I could use it like a private plane.
No need for suspension tech either—current craftsmanship should be more than enough.
Just me, cruising around in a private aircraft. I can't not do this. After dinner I'm going straight to Charles and making him build it.
Meanwhile, at the royal palace, King Charles de Arno held a letter delivered by an envoy.
In the west of the Terius Continent, four kingdoms had formed an alliance to resist the expansion of the Cardis Empire: the Arno Kingdom, the Ravona Kingdom, the Cruyff Kingdom, and the Winchester Kingdom.
The letter in his hand proposed a joint council of those allied states.
"True enough. Now that the Cardis Empire has lost its Masters, it is no longer invincible. This may be the perfect moment to strengthen the alliance's unity."
Charles was considering the schedule ahead when the man most responsible for that very turn of events walked in.
"Your Majesty Charles!! I'm here. Make me a carriage. No wheels—all iron."
The man had a habit of saying the strangest things.
"Without wheels, it is hardly a carriage."
"Ah, I'll handle that part myself. I don't actually need a carriage."
"That shouldn't be difficult. However—there is to be a joint council of the Western Alliance."
"Oh, really? When do we leave?"
"In ten days. You will be going as well, so take note."
"Ehh, I don't wanna. Just take the knights and go."
For all his power, Lucian was lazy and emotional by nature—but Charles knew exactly how to handle him.
"I am asking you as a favor. This council is of the utmost importance. Once this business is concluded, I will have that carriage of yours built in the name of the royal house."
Self-indulgent as the man was, he accepted polite requests and fair trades without much fuss.
"Will you come with me?"
"Your Majesty Charles, if that had been in Japanese, it would've been a full-on confession."
"Chaponner?!"
"Close enough."
"I shall take that as a yes."
"All for the sake of my private aircraft."
"…There are times I genuinely wonder whether you and I are speaking the same language."
And so the diplomatic party for the joint council was decided—with Lucian included.