Luid's Incident Journal (3)
Late that night, Amelia slipped out of the estate. She was on her way to investigate the case that had been giving her endless headaches lately.
“…Luid?”
Amelia looked back. Luid was trailing behind her, hugging an enormous book to his chest.
“…Why are you following me?”
“Just because.”
“It's late. You should be in bed.”
“I slept a lot this morning. I'm not sleepy.”
Amelia gently stroked Luid's hair. Then she spoke firmly.
“No.”
“Don't worry about it,” Luid said, his face utterly blank. “We're just headed the same way, that's all.”
“…….”
Amelia studied him with a doubtful look. Somehow I don't believe that. But she had no grounds to argue, so for now, she kept walking.
About ten minutes passed before Amelia abruptly came to a halt. Luid, still trailing behind her, bumped straight into her waist.
“Really, no.”
Amelia turned around and lowered herself to Luid's eye level, gripping his shoulders. “It's dangerous.”
Luid looked genuinely puzzled. “Me?”
“…….”
Amelia couldn't bring herself to argue. But that was beside the point.
Luid is still too young to see things like that.
The words Irene had once said came flooding back to her.
“Luid, I can't do my job properly with you around. And I told you yesterday, didn't I? This is my succession trial.” Amelia coaxed him as gently as she could.
Luid simply held up his diary.
“I'm going to write in my diary.”
“…Huh?”
“You gave me permission yesterday. To write in it.”
“Ah— no, that's not……”
“Should I tell Mom? That you deliberately reported late yesterday.”
Luid was referring to the fact that Amelia had been slow to report that he wasn't going to the North. It was a petty little revenge.
Amelia flinched, her eyes narrowing. “That's low, using that on me.”
“Then stop bothering me.”
“Bothering you? I'm just——”
But meeting Luid's stubborn gaze, Amelia's shoulders sagged in defeat. Once Luid dug his heels in, there was no budging him.
“Fine. But you have to do exactly as I say.”
“Okay.”
“And if you get sleepy, you tell me right away.”
Luid nodded.
Amelia deliberately headed for the training grounds. She couldn't very well bring Luid to a crime scene.
Truthfully, there was nothing left to do at the scene anyway. She had combed the place down to the last speck of dust and come away with nothing.
Might as well clear my head with some practice.
Lately she hadn't trained at all—and neither had any of her club members. Grumbling was beginning to simmer among the ranks. How long were they expected to keep up this pointless investigation? At this point, a release valve was sorely needed. So Amelia walked out to the open field where the members had gathered.
“Oh, Captain? Who's this adorable little guy?”
“Watch your mouth, Irina. That's my little brother.”
“Huh, yeah, I can see it. He looks just like you.”
Irina crouched down in front of Luid and reached out to ruffle his hair. Amelia blocked her arm with a gaze full of wariness.
“And where exactly do you think you're touching?”
“So stingy, Amelia.” Irina pouted and rose to her feet, muttering complaints. Luid blinked up at her.
“That's the Second Princess, Luid. No need to greet her, really.” Amelia introduced her curtly.
Luid looked up at Irina and thought.
Whoa. Those are huge.
It was an honest impression.
“Wow! So this is that fairy of Delin's I've only heard about?”
“Oh my gosh, he's adorable.”
“What's gotten into the Captain? She used to swear up and down nobody could even get one look at him.”
As curious faces pressed in toward Luid, Amelia lowered her stance, resting her hand on her sword's hilt, and spoke in a low voice.
“Take one more step and I'll cut you down. Everyone, back to your positions. Now.”
“Aw, come on, don't be such a miser. Just one hug.”
Irina lunged in a sneak attack. Amelia shoved her back with her shoulder, and Irina stumbled a good distance backward. Amelia then spread both arms wide in front of Luid like a shield.
Luid pursed his lips and thought.
Too bad.
“Lui, stay right behind me.”
Amelia spoke softly to Luid, then her eyes ignited.
How dare these animals even look at him??
Princess or not—she would protect Luid. That was her only goal for today.
“We're suspending the investigation for today and training instead. Practice on your own while I correct your stances. And that means no fooling around. Since it's important, I'll say it once more. No fooling around—above all, I will not tolerate anyone harassing my little brother.”
The Swordsmanship Club members spread out at a comfortable distance from one another, swinging their swords with serious expressions.
To be taught swordsmanship by a Windsor was nothing short of a blessing. They all counted themselves lucky, and that was why they treasured every practice session.
Luid settled into a comfortable spot and opened his diary.
So even Big Sis Ame isn't easy to get around after all.
He intended to crack the case using the knowledge and reasoning of his former life. For Amelia's health alone, the culprit had to be found fast.
But the hand holding the pen simply wouldn't move. Deduction required knowing something, after all. The only information Luid had was that young children were suddenly disappearing.
Just then, his eyes met Gilbert's as the knight swung his sword with a haggard look on his face. Gilbert gave a polite bow of his head. Luid patted the spot beside him. Gilbert, puzzled, asked Amelia about it—and the moment she heard, her eyes flashed into axes before she turned to Luid and beamed. Luid patted the spot again.
With a sour expression, Amelia gave Gilbert a small nod. Gilbert hurried over.
“Haah… haah. You called for me?”
Mid-training or not, he was panting for breath.
“Sir Gilbert looks exhausted.”
“…I beg your pardon?”
“You should rest. Sit here.”
In truth, Gilbert—who had managed barely two hours of sleep over the past two days—was already on the verge of collapse.
So he didn't refuse, and sat down beside Luid. Luid, eyes heavy with sleep, held out a baguette.
“Eat this.”
“Thank you. I was just feeling hungry, as it happens.”
Gilbert took a bite. It was unmistakably good bread.
“Now then—tell me about the kidnapping case.”
“Hack—!”
Gilbert choked mid-swallow. Luid produced a cup, filled it with water, and handed it over. Gilbert gulped it down and thumped his chest.
“You okay?”
“Fine— I mean, quite all right.”
Cold sweat beaded down Gilbert's face. He knew perfectly well that Amelia didn't want Luid meddling in this case.
“Tell me.”
“Well, that is……”
Luid helped Gilbert make his choice.
“I wrote you a recommendation letter, I let you rest, I even gave you bread. And all Gilbert's ever done for me is buy me one chicken skewer.”
“…….”
“I guess I'll have to tell my sister.”
Luid made to rise from his seat, and Gilbert blurted out in a panic.
“I—I'll tell you everything.”
Luid flashed a winning smile. Operation successful.
Gilbert spoke in a small voice. “But… the fact that I told you stays a secret from the Captain.”
“Okay.”
Gilbert glanced warily toward Amelia before beginning. She happened to be busy correcting Irina's stance.
She looked utterly absorbed. They'd be safe for a while yet. Slightly reassured, he turned to Luid and spoke.
“…The case first surfaced in the slums. Reports came in that children living there had gone missing.”
Luid nodded.
“No fewer than ten, perhaps as many as twenty. Children vanishing from the slums was hardly a new phenomenon, so no one ever managed to pin down an exact number.”
Luid recalled that the Academy and the slums were located quite far apart.
“A week later, another child disappeared. Not from the slums this time, but from the nearest city. That's when the case became our responsibility. And ever since then, children have been vanishing steadily—one per week.”
Gilbert's face crumpled. The self-loathing was written all over it.
“There was nothing left behind. Not a scrap of evidence, no witnesses, no objects. The vanished children's whereabouts were utterly obscure—we simply couldn't find a trace of them.”
Luid tried to recall whether anything similar had happened in the original novel, but nothing came to mind.
“And then, roughly two weeks ago… a nine-year-old girl went missing near the Academy.”
This was the medieval era. All manner of crime was an everyday occurrence. But the fact that it had happened near the Academy was the problem.
Even in the modern world, school districts enjoyed the best security. The Empire—home to its one and only Academy—was no different. The infrastructure all converged there.
For a child to vanish in a place like that carried a very real risk of spiraling into something far more serious.
“This time there wasn't just no evidence—there wasn't so much as a single thread to be found. Fortunately, no one has vanished since then, but that proves nothing. Until we find the culprit, we can't just sit on our hands. That's everything I know.”
“Exactly where did the children disappear from?”
“We don't know that either, I'm afraid. There was no evidence, no testimony—nothing. It's all terribly strange. All we can do at this point… is search blindly.”
Gilbert's frustration was palpable.
“Every crime leaves behind at least a sliver of evidence. And yet this case… it slips through your fingers like smoke. I've never faced an enemy like this before.”
Luid said it flat out.
“The culprit's a mage.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Luid wrote something in his diary—in the Imperial language this time, not the old script.
[Most likely: a mage in their seventies or older, between 7th and 8th Tier.]
“How can you be so certain? All I did was tell you there was no evidence.”
Gilbert was puzzled to the point of absurdity.
And yet this was no ordinary voice—this was the genius who, at his tender age, had even lectured a hall of mages on magic theory.
His words simply couldn't be brushed aside.
“Process of elimination.”
“Pardon?”
“Children vanishing one after another means there's a definite purpose behind it. Accidental crimes are out.”
“…Yes.”
“Leaving no trace means it's no ordinary person. Average citizens are out too. That leaves two possibilities. Either they're exceptional with a sword, or exceptional with magic.”
“Yes.”
“So now we reason from that. As to the culprit's purpose.”
Watching Luid proceed without a flicker of hesitation, Gilbert's pupils trembled.
“There are probably a few, but I see two. Someone who wants to show off a perfect crime—or someone who wants to do something with young children.”
Luid's voice dropped lower.
“The former is unlikely. If they wanted to show off, they would have left traces behind. Teasing ones. But there's not even that much, is there?”
“…Yes, that's right.”
Gilbert swallowed dryly.
Merely by describing the situation, the little boy before him was drawing closer to the heart of a case that Gilbert himself hadn't even managed to grab a thread of.
“Then it has to be the latter. What could anyone possibly gain from using young children? Only one thing springs to mind within the bounds of what I know. Mana.”
“…Mana?”
“Yeah. It's theoretically possible. A mage who's hit their ceiling—how do they increase their mana? The most efficient method is extracting mana from a talented young child. To manage that, they'd have to be past 7th Tier, their growth stalled, and their ambition to climb higher burning strong. But they wouldn't have crossed into 8th Tier. From 9th Tier onward, you're called a Great Magician.”
“……!”
Gilbert's eyes flooded with horror.
He had never once imagined such a thing was possible.
“Young children possess far greater mana reserves than ordinary adults. If you're willing to throw away your humanity, it's the first method worth trying. Though it's hardly something just anyone can pull off.”
Luid looked at Gilbert.
“At first, they targeted the children of the slums—easy prey. Who in the slums would raise a fuss over a handful of missing kids? But they would've soon discovered the efficiency was too low. Children without talent can't yield much mana no matter what you do. They wouldn't have been satisfied. So the culprit grew bolder. The closer they moved toward the heart of the Imperial Capital, the higher the odds of encountering a talented child—so they kept edging closer. Which means the culprit's final target is very likely the Academy itself.”
Luid paused for a moment, then began writing out what needed investigating first.
Gilbert's expression had frozen solid.
He was ashamed. He had prided himself on a certain knack for investigation—yet the boy before him had listened for only a moment and produced the most plausible solution of all.
He could perhaps understand if the method had been difficult to reach, but hearing it laid out, it was almost painful to wonder how he had never thought of it himself.
“I never dreamed… it could be this simple.”
“That's only natural. You don't know much about mages, Gilbert. Besides, any problem looks easy once you know the answer.”
Having finished writing, Luid tore out that page and handed it to Gilbert. Gilbert received it with utmost respect.
“I will see this case resolved swiftly. You have my word.”
And with this, they'll take care of the rest on their own.
Amelia didn't want Luid involved. So this much was as far as he could go.
Amelia was capable. Luid trusted that if she simply had the right direction, she would crack the case in no time.
From far across the field, Luid watched Amelia diligently correcting her members' stances, committing the sight to memory.
“Solve it fast. So our big sis can finally rest.”
Night had already passed, and the quiet hush of dawn was drawing near.
It was the hour when everyone slept—yet not one of their swords wavered by so much as an inch.
Luid thought that people striving with all their heart for something were a beautiful thing to see.