The Tenth Birthday
All right, then. Let's take stock.
The place where this life of mine began was an empire called Aslan.
A world where the gulf between commoner and noble ran deep. And even among nobles, not all stood on equal footing — the Four Great Families were proof of that.
House Iris, guarding the Empire's south, armed with diplomatic finesse and a fortune rivaling the imperial family itself. House Renuiel, guarding the east, which had produced brilliant mages for generations. House Charlotte, guarding the west — and, along with it, the Empire's entire underworld. And House Reinhardt, guarding the north, cradle of the Empire's most honored knights.
All four commanded power so vast that ordinary nobles couldn't so much as hold a candle to them. They simply played in a different league altogether.
And as for the present me — I had been born the second child of House Reinhardt.
Every life before this one had begun in wretched circumstances: a friendless orphan, without even a family to call my own. But this time was different. There was a mother who loved me. There was my older brother Allen, the clear frontrunner to become the next head of House Reinhardt. There was my little sister Aria, who despite her tender years already matched the young lady of House Renuel blow for blow in magic. And there was my father, who during the Imperial War had held a castle single-handedly against the knights of an enemy nation.
With a family like this... maybe, just maybe, I could finally live in peace.
A peaceful life. The reason I craved one was simple. All six of my previous lives, added together, came to roughly two hundred years — which meant my average lifespan hadn't even cleared forty. And not a single one of those lives had ended in natural death, only by another's hand or by illness. Perhaps it was only natural that I hungered for peace.
And peaceful it was, in the Reinhardt Ducal House. The servants were kind, and my mother wrapped me in warmth. The Duke was gruff, but he seemed, by all appearances, an ordinarily good man — a touch too stern at times, granted. You could honestly call it a good family. My brother and my sister too, all of us together...
...or so it should have been. It was supposed to be that way. It was meant to be.
But it seemed that damned god still had no intention of letting me be happy.
The year I turned ten. October 31st, Imperial Year 1932 — the night of the birthday party held to celebrate my tenth year.
The woman seated before me had raven-black hair, dark as the midnight sky. And set against that hair were deep crimson eyes, so vivid that meeting them felt like staring into the sun itself.
Yes. This was my mother. Lady Sariel Reinhardt.
I had no complaints about life with her. Even though my mother had been born a maid, not a soul within the ducal house was fool enough to snub her to her face. If anything, her gentle nature had won her even deeper respect.
"Happy birthday, Jenison. Ten years old already... my, how time flies."
My mother offered her congratulations in a voice steeped in emotion. For the record — Jenison is my name.
"Now that you're ten... your mana's unique form will be manifesting as well, you know."
"Yes, Mother..."
A mana's unique form referred to the distinctive character of the mana that belonged to one person alone. It revealed itself in everyone between the ages of eight and ten, and for the nobility above all, it was an occasion of great import. Depending on what qualities one's mana carried, everything changed — at the modest end, the potency of one's magic; at the grand end, one's entire calling in life.
House Renuiel, famed for its magic, carried mana weighted toward elemental spellcraft, while House Reinhardt, renowned for its mighty knights, carried mana attuned to defense. Naturally, since an individual's strength shifted with these traits, manifestation was the perfect opportunity for a noble house to cultivate its power — and so my mother gently soothed me, telling me not to lose heart even if what awakened in me had nothing to do with battle.
Honestly, though? I was excited.
Call it not acting my age if you like — but just think about it. My father was the Duke of House Reinhardt, one of the Four Great Families. I carried his blood, and my brother and sister had already climbed to realms far beyond their peers despite their youth. So of course expectation came seething up in me. Surely there was talent in me too?
"Yes, Mother. Whatever manifests, I promise I won't be disappointed."
It was, of course, a lie. Because I absolutely would be.
"Good. Off to your room with you, then."
And so, after that pleasant conversation with my mother, I withdrew to my room — where a bed, sitting empty and alone, greeted me the moment I stepped through the door.
There was nothing of note in my room. No — better to say there was hardly anything in it at all. No one had ever thought to provide much for a concubine's son. Besides, wasn't a bed and a pillow all a room truly needed?
"Young Master, will you be needing help with your bath?"
A woman's voice drifted in from beyond the door. Her name was Ella — a maid of House Reinhardt assigned to serve my mother and me. She was close to my age, but unlike me she was deft with housework, and her pretty looks had made her the darling of the other maids. Presumably she'd been assigned to me on the theory that children of an age would get along well enough...
Still... I've lived this long. Having a little girl wait on me in the bath is a bit much.
My conscience pricked me in more ways than one, so I declined politely, washed myself, and laid my thoroughly boneless body straight down on the bed. And in that very moment, a violent ache came crashing into my heart, followed by a contradictory current — scalding hot and freezing cold all at once.
I knew it instinctively. This was mana. My mana's unique form was struggling to manifest.
The instant the realization struck, I powered on the Mana Manifestation Device my mother had pressed into my hands. Feed mana into it, wait a little while, and it would display the crest that embodied my mana's character. Ordinary people manifested one crest; the gifted, two or more.
There were so many varieties of crest that people claimed your mana's character decided your entire future — though in truth, a crest did not dictate anyone's destiny. Talent certainly branched this way and that depending on a crest's shape, but there were those who applied theirs in entirely unexpected directions and made their names in fields no one could have foreseen. My own father, Duke Reinhardt, belonged to precisely that company.
Even so, the shape of one's crest was never a small influence on one's future. Even I — a man who had been through every hardship life could devise — couldn't help but be nervous over this.
"Whew... please. Please."
I've suffered enough already — this time, just give me something good. After praying frantically inside my head, I pressed my hand to the Mana Manifestation Device and poured the energy in. Only after it had devoured every last wisp of my power did a red light kindle at the very top of the device. Once that light turned wholly blue, my crest would finally reveal itself.
"Haah... what will my crest be? At the very least, I'd love to be able to sling spells around the way Aria does..."
For the record, my brother Allen's crest was optimized for wielding the sword, and my sister Aria possessed talent that even House Renuel would envy. And thanks to it, the two of them were already basking in the height of popularity despite their tender years.
"Or failing that... I'd settle for being like Father..."
And as I said before — Duke Reinhardt, the man who wielded his talent in a direction no one could ever have imagined. His gift, surprisingly, had nothing to do with the sword. It was called the Mana Eye: the ability to see the mana dwelling within objects. Simply the power to see mana — nothing more, and nothing less. With that simple gift, he rose to the very summit of all knights.
He fought by reading the flow of mana within a blade, and by watching the way the mana of everything in motion scattered and broke apart. Of course, that was never an easy feat. It demanded dynamic vision sharp enough to react the instant mana dispersed, and a hardened body to keep pace with it — and turning it to practical use in real combat took longer still. That was why so many knights revered him to this day: reverence for the effort of a man who had climbed to that height with talent inferior to their own.
And with the great deeds he performed in the Imperial War, his name spread across the whole Empire, until everyone knew of his ability.
So then — what about me, here? Strictly speaking, my soul carried none of his blood. But this body was, unmistakably, his lineage. Perhaps I could become like them, too. Besides, unlike them, this wasn't my first life.
Drifting on that pleasant daydream, I held my silence for a long while, praying for my crest to appear on the device even a moment sooner.
What crest will it be...? A sword? Magic? If something like that manifested, Mother would object that it was too dangerous — but with a talent like that, it would simply be destiny. At last, a gifted body of my own... heh heh.
Beeeep—
Just as I sat there grinning like a fool at my own idle fancies, a chime announced that the manifestation was complete. My eyes snapped to the Mana Manifestation Device the instant I heard it.
"...What is this?"
My head tilted before I knew it.