Chapter 14
Chapter 14
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 14
Chapter Title: A New Sword, A New Circle
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Duke Sachsen’s study.
The day Charlotte Orharhart officially became a handmaiden in service to House Sachsen, the Duke, perplexed, had asked how such a naive girl could have come to harbor such a righteous resolve.
“That day, what happened between you and that child?”
“The Divine Sword’s daughter, Charlotte Orharhart.”
Dale nodded as he continued.
“My thoughts aligned with yours, Father.”
“Oh?”
At those words, a pleased smile graced Duke Sachsen’s lips.
As kind a man as Duke Sachsen was, he was also the greatest nobleman in the Empire. That was a position that could never be maintained on virtue alone.
Duke Sachsen was not so soft as to make a decision based on the unavoidable plea of a loyal vassal or the pitiful circumstances of House Orharhart.
“You speak as if you know what I am thinking.”
“I made a promise to Lady Charlotte.”
“A promise?”
“A promise that I would protect her in the name of House Sachsen.”
“Did you invoke the name of House Sachsen merely out of pity for that child’s circumstances?”
Duke Sachsen’s question was sharp.
“It is not pity.”
Dale shook his head.
“She is the only daughter who carries the blood of the man called the Divine Sword.”
Dale answered.
“Even if Lady Charlotte detests that fact with every fiber of her being, her ‘usefulness’ is beyond measure.”
The blood of the Divine Sword. And the value she possessed by virtue of being a woman. Recalling the Holy Sword Master's utterly vile desires, the Black Prince frowned.
“Therefore, our ducal house will protect Lady Charlotte from such malice.”
However, it was by no means a favor without a price.
“And what is it we seek to gain from this?”
“A Divine Sword.”
While the Holy Sword Master desired a ‘child of the Divine Sword’ through Charlotte, what Dale wanted was something far simpler.
After all, the one ‘closest to being a Divine Sword’ was right in front of him.
The young daughter of the Divine Sword, asking for his help.
“One that will be wielded for the future of our ducal house.”
Hearing this, Duke Sachsen let out a quiet laugh.
***
There are several honors a knight can achieve in their lifetime.
One, to make a name for oneself with the sword alone.
Two, to serve a lord to whom one can offer true loyalty.
Three, to teach a good student who will carry on one’s will and inherit one’s sword.
In that regard, Lord Helmut Blackbear could be considered a truly blessed knight.
A member of the Seven Swords of the Continent, a knight bearing the title of Mad Sword. A knight who had sworn a lifetime of loyalty to House Sachsen.
And finally—.
*Clang!*
The prodigy of the ducal house, Dale of Sachsen, spun the stiletto in his hand, reversing his grip. The instant he did, he struck downward, an attack that Charlotte Orharhart’s rapier deflected at an angle.
No sooner had she deflected it than the stiletto’s blade coiled again like a snake.
But Charlotte’s rapier persistently blocked its path, as if to say it would allow no more.
As it was a fight between two children, it lacked the powerful impact of a battle between knights who relied on brute strength. And yet, it more than made up for it with a level of skill and speed reminiscent of a duel between master assassins.
It was fast, and every single strike was honed with a sharp killing intent.
‘Is this truly a duel between nine-year-olds?’
The knights of House Sachsen, watching the scene unfold, were equally at a loss for words.
They were already familiar with their feelings toward Dale’s talent. But that young girl…
‘She truly is the Divine Sword’s daughter.’
Recalling the swordsmanship of his old master, Lord Badel, the man called the Divine Sword, Lord Helmut Blackbear held his breath.
‘I suppose blood doesn’t lie.’
Charlotte Orharhart.
She had never even been formally taught the sword, having developed her own self-taught style with nothing but a single rapier.
After a few more exchanges of blades, the match was decided when Dale’s stiletto finally overcame Charlotte’s rapier.
“That was excellent, Lady Charlotte.”
Watching them, Lord Helmut smiled with satisfaction.
“Spare me the empty compliments, Lord Helmut.”
But Charlotte, unable to hide the bitterness of her defeat, retorted boldly.
“What am I lacking?”
Charlotte’s talent was exceptional, but it couldn’t compare to Dale’s level. No, in the first place, Dale’s ability was of a nature that could no longer be called mere ‘talent.’
Nevertheless, Lord Helmut knew. Unlike Dale, who would walk the path of magic, Charlotte would walk only the path of the sword, and he knew how quickly she would grow.
It would not be long before the outcome of a pure sword duel between the two would be reversed.
“Lady Charlotte, do you know what the core of the rapier is?”
Thrusting, Charlotte answered.
“Incorrect.”
Lord Helmut shook his head.
“The most important thing in handling a rapier is your two legs.”
Two legs. The core of the rapier was the step—in other words, footwork.
“But Lord Dale, while deflecting your thrust, did not miss the opening and closed the distance.”
Listening intently to Lord Helmut’s lesson, Charlotte’s expression was incredibly serious and composed.
To have already reached this level without any proper sword training. He imagined the dazzling sword dance she would display the moment she began to learn properly under a skilled swordsman.
It was Lord Helmut’s role to make the talent of the girl with the gift of a Divine Sword—Charlotte—blossom.
Dale and Charlotte.
For an ordinary knight, taking even one of these children as a student would be an unimaginable honor.
But Lord Helmut was the sword master for both of them.
A loyal vassal of House Sachsen, the Mad Sword, Lord Helmut Blackbear. It was no exaggeration to say he was the most blessed knight on the continent.
***
Malbork, the capital of the former Teutonic Knight-State.
And now, the grand castle of Count Brandenburg, commander of the Imperial Army's 1st Corps, bestowed upon him in recognition of his achievements in the war.
“The report states that the young lady of House Orharhart has taken refuge with House Sachsen.”
The moment he heard the messenger's report, the Holy Sword Master, Count Brandenburg, hurled the glass in his hand.
“To think that damned wench would beat me to it…!”
*Crash!*
After letting out a curse, he turned his head. Beside him, as always, the holy sword Durandal emanated a pure white light.
An uncontrollably delighted smile bloomed on the Count’s face.
‘Ah, my lovely Durandal.’
The very sword that had plunged its blade into the Hero's back.
‘Ah, my one and only beloved fiancée.’
Gazing ecstatically at the holy sword’s glow, the Count blushed shyly.
‘Please wait a little longer, my love.’
Like a girl truly in love. After blushing, the Count turned his head again.
“Find the Thieves’ Guild as soon as you leave.”
His voice was filled with a twisted obsession.
“I will pay a thousand gold, so do not worry about the amount. Gather skilled individuals and send them to the Sachsen duchy.”
***
He became aware of the flow of mana rotating along with his heart, calmly waited until that flow established a fixed, circular route, and then…
He strongly imprinted the shape of the engraved mana circle.
This was the process of constructing the second circle.
It was a breeze.
“It’s done.”
“...!”
When Dale casually announced the existence of the new circle, Sephia’s ears twitched in surprise.
Adding a single circle to one's heart, even a lower-level one, typically required years of effort.
The point at which so-called ‘talented’ young mages entered a magic tower's affiliated academy…
In other words, the age for inscribing the first mana circle was around ten.
From there, the time it took to reach the third circle, a requirement for graduating from the academy, was another ten years or so. At the earliest, they would be twenty.
Thus, graduating from the academy in one’s late teens was worthy of the title ‘prodigy.’
—However, for Dale, who had started walking the path of magic at eight, it had taken a mere year to become a second-circle mage.
This was the realm of a true genius, a level that prodigies and whiz kids could not dare to approach.
Dale extended his hand. The two mana circles surrounding his heart began to rotate rapidly.
The circle rotation rate for a typical mage was 300 rpm (rotations per minute).
This meant they could generate mana by rotating it 300 times per minute, and only upon reaching this figure did they earn the right to expand to the ‘next circle.’
In Dale's case, however, the rotation speed of his first awakened circle was already 2,000 rpm.
And the rotation speed of the newly formed second circle on top of it was 400 rpm.
He had met the criteria to aim for the ‘next stage’ the moment he expanded to a new circle.
“Then, as a test…”
The mana generated from the two circles flowed out from his fingertips.
Without needing to speak, he subconsciously projected a new formula onto ‘Ice Bullet’ from his mind’s eye.
He reinforced the molecular bonds of the ice that would become the bullet, increasing its weight and durability. He then envisioned an invisible, large-caliber gun barrel to enhance the projectile’s rotation, kinetic energy, and velocity.
Armor Piercing Bullet.
‘Without adding fire magic, a high-explosive incendiary round would be impossible.’
*Bang!*
The test-fired Ice Bullet split the air. An enhanced version with a new formula projected onto it, and non-verbally at that.
‘What was that?’
After firing the Ice Bullet, even Dale himself couldn't help but be bewildered.
‘Was it always this easy to project the mechanism of an armor-piercing bullet?’
It was too easy. Incomparably so, compared to when he first used Ice Bullet.
It felt as though the task of projecting the ‘image he desired’ onto reality had become several times easier just by adding a single circle.
—A mage projecting their inner world onto this world is like painting a picture. The subject one wishes to draw must be clear, and the artist's skill in drawing it is also important.
Among these elements, the ‘circle’ plays the role of the art supplies needed for painting.
It is a filter and a medium for superimposing one's inner world onto this one.
No matter how skilled an artist is, they cannot paint a watercolor without paints or a brush.
That is why the number of circles is the measure of a mage.
In other words, now that the range of tools at his disposal had widened, Dale's achievements would accelerate at an exponential rate.
Like a flawless painter adding new colors to his palette, one by one.
“You are a fast learner.”
Watching him, Sephia smiled quietly.
Her fear of Dale’s talent hadn't vanished. But more than fear, Sephia had decided to trust him.
—From the tales of his valor against the orc horde to the young lady of House Orharhart who had newly entered the ducal castle.
At the very least, this child was trying to use the power he possessed correctly.
That was the resolve of the elven mage, Sephia, who watched Dale from closer than anyone else.