The Alliance Summit
Ten days later, I climbed into one of the carriages lined up before the royal palace, ready to set out for the Western Alliance summit.
Ugh, this goddamn carriage again. Just tell yourself this is the last time and suck it up one more ride.
“Greetings, Master Lucian.”
Of course the seat next to me had to go to some kingdom knight.
“It’s already cramped as hell in here. Why don’t you hop down and just run alongside?”
Having to ride a carriage again was already pissing me off—now I was stuck squeezed next to some guy for five whole days.
Couldn’t Charles have stuck me with a pretty maid instead? Zero sense of style.
“I wouldn’t be able to keep up with the carriage on foot, sir.”
“That’s why you’re just a regular knight. Declaring you can’t do something before you even try. ‘Can’t do this, can’t do that’—even if a sword’s at your throat you’ll still say you can’t block it, got it?”
“My apologies.”
“Augh… never mind. Sorry.”
It’s not even his fault. Am I just taking it out on the poor guy?
“No, it’s fine.”
“I’m just… a little frustrated about something. Didn’t mean to snap at you.”
“Even you have things that frustrate you, Master?”
“Sure I do. At my age I haven’t even dated, let alone gotten married. You married?”
“Yes. I have two daughters—pretty as their mother.”
“What? How old are you?”
“Twenty-four, sir.”
“Shut up!!! When you can’t do this or that, that’s one thing—now you’re suddenly bragging about nailing both dating and marriage just to piss someone off? Instead of drawing aura you draw out your genes? That’s exactly why you’re a no-name knight and I’m the continent’s strongest Sword Master, you got that? Aaaargh?!!!!”
“….”
After that the knight didn’t manage a single word to me until we arrived.
And so five days passed.
At the end of five days of carriage travel we reached Cruyff Castle, where the summit was being held. I stepped down and stretched hard.
“Gyaaah! Ow, my back. Finally here.”
“….”
“Hey, how long are you gonna keep that up? I got all age-anxious and took it out on you for no reason. I’m sorry, okay?”
“…Yes, I understand. This whole incident has given me one particular thought about Master Lucian’s… issues.”
“Say whatever. I don’t care.”
“Your looks and abilities are excellent, Master Lucian, but I believe the real problem is the occasional madness that seems to seize your mind.”
“Actually, care a little and keep that to yourself.”
“….”
A moment later the Knight Commander and Charles climbed down from the following carriage, took one look at us, and Charles voiced the obvious question.
“You two… still like that?”
“Even at camp he wouldn’t let the man speak a word to the Commander…”
“Commander, this kid has zero social awareness.”
“My apologies, but that is not something I can teach.”
“You too? Declaring you can’t do something before you even try. ‘Can’t do this, can’t do that’—even if a sword’s at your throat you’ll still say you can’t block it, got it?”
“….”
All that time in a carriage had me snapping at everything for no good reason.
These guys would never understand modern transportation. They were stuck rolling around in glorified cargo carts.
“That’s enough, Sir Lucian. Once the summit is over and we return, I shall give some thought to a solution for your… concerns.”
“Yesss! All hail His Majesty the merciful and wise! Present—arms!”
“….”
“Do it!! Both of you!!”
Before we entered the conference hall we were told only one escort could accompany each party. I was about to seize the chance to ditch the duty when—
“If you accompany me, upon our return to the kingdom I shall arrange marriage interviews with every unwed young lady of note.”
“No matter who it is, they won’t lay a single finger on Your Majesty!!”
“How reassuring. Shall we go in, then.”
When we stepped into the hall it seemed we were the last to arrive—every eye turned our way.
“Welcome, Charles. Is the man beside you Arno’s sacred Sword Master?”
“It has been some time, Yosef. Indeed—this is Sir Lucian.”
The one speaking from the seat of honor was the host of the summit: Yosef von Cruyff, King of the Cruyff Kingdom.
“Well then, be seated. Now that everyone is present, I declare the Alliance Summit open.”
And so the summit began. None of it concerned me, so I half-listened while practicing control of my magnetic force.
After ten days plus another five of constant practice, covering long distances no longer seemed like a problem.
The meeting proceeded smoothly—dull, scholarly debates on transit tolls, trade taxes, military pacts—until I thought I heard my name and pricked up my ears.
“…and so, to properly oppose the Cardis Empire, I propose that we of the Western Alliance formally recognize Sir Lucian, Sword Master of Arno, as Grand Master.”
Oh. That ‘Grand Master’ title I once tossed out as a joke is actually happening.
“Naturally there is no reason to refuse! At last we can make the Empire taste defeat—we must proclaim this far and wide! The Ravona Kingdom votes in favor!”
“Winchester sees no grounds for objection either. Does the man himself have any reservations?”
Suddenly the floor was mine. As long as they weren’t foisting some tedious duty on me, I was fine with whatever.
“Any special obligations attached? I hate annoying stuff.”
“No need to worry. Only the title changes. We have no intention of loading you with unnecessary duties—our purpose is simply to check the Empire.”
“Exactly. We want to flaunt the fact that the man who slaughtered the Empire’s four Masters is our Western Alliance’s Grand Master.”
Charles added his agreement.
“Sir Lucian, little will change from before. Has the kingdom ever forced obligations on you outside times of attack?”
True enough… outside of wars and border skirmishes I’d been so idle I was bored out of my mind.
Not a bad hat to wear, actually.
For someone who loves attention and showing off, it was the perfect role.
“In that case, rights without responsibility sound great.”
The first Grand Master in continental history!! The ladies are gonna love this, right?
“With unanimous consent, Master Lucian is hereby appointed Grand Master, as recognized by the Western Alliance.”
That final item closed the summit. Our party was scheduled to stay a few days at Cruyff Castle before heading home—except for one problem.
“Kyaaaah!! What is this!!”
“Ugh, so salty!! I can’t eat this!!”
The food was completely inedible. Extremely so.
I’ll give pickled cabbage a pass for historical accuracy, but why is every single dish salt-cured like this?!
“Your Majesty Charles! I’m heading back first!”
“Where exactly do you intend to go? Is it truly that unpalatable?”
“I’d rather die than eat another bite. I’m leaving ahead even if I have to go alone!”
One more day of this and every drop of moisture would be sucked out of my body.
“How do you propose to travel alone?”
“I’m flying.”
I didn’t know the roads that well, but if I just kept the direction straight, flying would get me home in no time.
“You can fly?”
“I’m a Grand Master, aren’t I?”
Obviously. The second you job-change, the first skill you grab is a movement ability—that’s just Korean gaming law.
“Sir Lucian is truly impossible to predict. Very well. If you wish, return ahead of us.”
“Then I’m off!”
With that I vaulted off the ramparts, pouring every ounce of magnetic force I could muster into escaping this salt hell as fast as possible.
A journey that had taken five full days by carriage was over in roughly an hour or two. All hail magnetism.
“Marie!”
I called for my maid as I drifted slowly down from the sky.
“Huh? Lucian, how are you already back? Just getting there should have taken four days at least…”
“The food over there was so disgusting I couldn’t stand it. I practiced the whole way there, so flying back only took an hour or two.”
“That’s incredibly fast! Ah—shall I have a meal prepared right away?”
“Yeah. I got promoted to Grand Master, so from today on, make it a Grand Master’s meal.”
This trip had confirmed it beyond doubt: Arno’s food was genuinely delicious.
It resembles Earth enough that this is a relief.
Unlike Earth’s history, it seemed the dark age of medieval French cuisine had never arrived here.
Does that make Cardis the Byzantine Empire, then?
Squeezing my fossilized brain for more historical parallels produced nothing, so I just decided to eat.
After a thoroughly satisfying meal I sprawled on the office sofa and brought up the marriage interviews Charles had promised.
“Oh right, Marie. Charles said he’s going to arrange marriage interviews for me soon. Apparently every unwed young lady is coming.”
“Really? Lucian, you might finally get married?”
“I hope so. They won’t mind my age, will they?”
Back in my old life, staying single this long usually meant people assumed something was wrong with you.
“Not at all—I think you’ll be very popular. Masters barely age in the first place, you know?”
“Oh, is that right? I’ve never gotten old yet, so I didn’t know.”
That was an unexpected bonus.
Yeah—living long and healthy is the best.
“But Lucian, have you never met any of the young ladies at social gatherings?”
“Uh… I’ve never actually gone to those things.”
As a commoner I never had the chance when I was young, and after becoming a Sword Master I refused every invitation just to avoid aristocratic roundabout talk and political games.
“I thought as much. Most marriage talks begin at those gatherings.”
“Ohh… you really were a Valencia young lady, weren’t you.”
“Ahem, of course! With your outstanding looks and the continent’s greatest martial power, you’re bound to be popular!”
“Then why don’t you like me? I think you’re pretty great too.”
Marie rose without a word of reply, humming some unintelligible nonsense song as she headed for the door.
“Birdsong falls~ onto the rose~ like mushrooms ♪~ And to the chirping snakes~ I gave macarons ♫~”
Looking at her like this, sometimes she seems even crazier than me.
Whenever Marie found a question hard to answer—or just didn’t like it—she would ignore the person completely and start spouting nonsense like that.
“Is this how other people feel when they look at me?”
No one was left to answer that question.