The One Who Walks on Water and the Stablekeeper

As I said before, injuring a fellow candidate during the entrance examination was strictly forbidden. A duel, however, was another matter entirely. A duel was the most sacred duty a noble possessed, the last resort by which one defended one's honor, and no noble could flee from it. It was a rule of station. The Human Lighthouse Order was no exception, and a mere entrance exam could not override a noble's obligations.

Of course, if two candidates beat each other bloody and then tried to insist it had been a duel, an instructor-knight would thrash them within an inch of their lives and that would be the end of it. But when the eldest son of House de Jevitz issued the challenge himself, the story changed. Sure enough, the instructor-knight who came running at the commotion took one look at my face and had no idea what to do.

I formally requested a witness. By custom, a witness was supposed to be an elder. I considered giving the role to the instructor-knight, then a more amusing thought occurred to me, and I recommended Barton Wigner instead.

"Say what? I'm a commoner, I tell you! I don't know the first thing about duel rules!"

The injury must not have been all that serious. Barton had already recovered, and he refused with open disgust. Amber's reaction was no warmer.

"How underhanded. Put your flatterer in as witness, and if you change your story afterward, I'll have no means of stopping you."

Their reactions were perhaps only natural. What I said next, however, left neither of them any choice but to nod.

"Leave the witnessing to an instructor-knight, and neither of us will get the result we want."

A witness's role was to certify the duel, but no less important was mediating the redress—restoring honor in the measure it had been lost, and paring away anything excessive. If the insult amounted to nothing more than a few words, then even victory restored only a few words of honor. That was not what Amber wanted. It was not what I wanted either.

"Very well. Then I can accept it. But if you play games, I will take your life, and that flatterer's, without fail."

"Eep!"

At Amber's words Barton all but had a fit. Honestly. He hadn't even been hit that hard—what was he so shocked for? I shrugged, as if to tell them to do as they pleased.

"Then it's settled. Ordinarily the one who receives the challenge sets the form of the duel, but I'll yield that to you this time. A sword duel would be far too dull, you see. How about we make it a contest of holding it in for ten minutes? Get me off, and we'll call it your win."

"Then my side would be the dull one. Getting a little brat off wouldn't even take ten minutes. And forgive me, but nonsense like that is not going to restore my honor. The duel will be fought with swords."

Tch. I'd been hoping for at least a blush, some sign she'd been put on the spot. She threw it back so matter-of-factly that I was the one left flustered.

"All right, then. The manner's settled, so now the both of you speak plain about what you want if you win."

Barton cut in at a suitable moment. In truth, this was the heart of the matter. Amber spoke as if she had been waiting for nothing else.

"If I win, you forfeit the entrance exam, pack your bags at once, and get out—back to your parents' house. That is my condition."

"I'll grant you that condition."

There was nothing difficult about it. I accepted Amber's terms without hesitation. If anything, they were so simple that the wind went out of me.

"And what is your condition?"

"Nothing much. If I win, offer me your body and your heart. That is my condition."

Struck speechless, Amber and Barton alike said nothing for a while. The first to react was Jin.

He had been watching with keen interest, and now he lit into me for doing something outrageous.

Well. Just watch.

On the heels of Jin's caustic denunciation, Barton opened his mouth.

"Ain't those terms too far out of balance? How about we even the scales?"

"Out of balance? Where?"

"Just think on it plain. Telling a man to quit the entrance exam, and telling him to offer up body and heart—those can't hardly be equal, now can they?"

"No. They're equal enough. I spare her life in the duel, and in exchange I ask that she spend what remains of it on me. Is that really so excessive a demand?"

In a duel, taking a life was permitted. It was extreme, and cases that went so far were vanishingly rare in this day and age, but that did not mean one was entitled to object. The moment I finished speaking, Amber seemed to have hardened her resolve.

"Provocation, provocation, provocation. Listening to you, there is no end to it. Very well. I will see to it that you pay the price of your arrogance."

It isn't provocation. I truly mean to take her body and her heart.

Whether she sensed the greed behind it or not, Amber accepted the condition, never realizing she had already stepped into the mire. I smiled at the sight. Had that smile possessed a scent, it would surely have been the reek of blood.

The duel was held in the sword training yard of Lighthouse Castle. Word must have spread quickly; knights of the Lighthouse Order appeared one after another to watch. A duel between candidates was already a rare bit of spice in dull Lighthouse Village, and one of those candidates was Bjorn de Jevitz, whose name was circulating far and wide as that of a genius? They couldn't sit this out. A large crowd was what I wanted as well. Between the rumor of genius and seeing the thing with one's own eyes, there lay a gap that could not be closed. An opportunity to prove what I was worth had been laid out before me. I had no reason to refuse it.

What is.

It's only a rumor, in the end. For all we know, she guessed on her own that I was a high-rank Sword User at best.

Of course, that couldn't be it. Amber was no fool. It was more accurate to judge that she had something to rely on. By ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠this point I had expected even Jin to catch on and ask, but strangely he didn't. Had his power waned until he could no longer see it? Or was whatever dwelt in Amber so faint, just now, that its presence had grown thin? I would know soon enough.

Standing at the center, Barton Wigner looked distinctly uncomfortable as his eyes shifted from me to Amber and back again. His hand rose toward the black vault of the sky. Each of us set our point toward the place that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hand indicated, and when the hand cut down between us, the raised swords turned upon each other.

Amber's blade shimmered. Here, wrapping a sword in mana was called Finziram. Fin meant to fluctuate; jiram meant the edge of a blade. A fluctuating edge—rendered in the language of a dime-store fantasy novel, Sword Aura. It was also the most emblematic difference between an ordinary person and a knight.

Amber, the stablekeeper's daughter. She had learned the swordsmanship of the knights who visited the stables by watching over their shoulders, and with an internal method she grasped alone she had become a Sword User—the last knight of the Human Lighthouse Order, and the strategist who would save an outmatched humanity by wit and wisdom. The name of a woman destined to leave a great mark upon history was beginning to spread, starting from this little Lighthouse Village.

"I'd heard there was a Sword User among them, but mid-rank? Never would have thought it."

"This cohort's in fine shape, isn't it?"

Here and there, spectators opened an impromptu review as they took in Amber's Sword Aura. It was excellent, even for a Sword User. But she was only a Sword User, and no more. A Sword User lacked density and precision of mana, so the most they could manage was to swathe the outside of the blade in a crude mass. The aura rippling across the sword's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠surface was the mark of that immaturity. The surging of mana brought needless waste, and for a knight—whose lot was to husband magical power—that was a fatal flaw. Thus, the further a knight broke through and grew strong, the more they sustained their Sword Aura by a method that was stronger and less costly.

I slowly poured magical power into my sword. The Sword Aura flowing along the blade settled into a blue shape fitted exactly to its form. There was no ripple to be found. It lay smooth, as if it had adhered to the steel itself. The crowd that had been murmuring over Amber's aura shut their mouths as one. They seemed startled that the rumor was true. Fair enough—Sword Expert at fourteen was quite the feat. You want a Sword Saint's head, this is the least of what you need. Praise me more. Revere me more. Lift my name higher still.

"I had a rough guess, but you truly are a Sword Expert."

"You do understand it's too late to call the duel off now, don't you?"

"Did I not just say I had already guessed?"

True to her word, Amber showed little surprise at my Sword Aura. Rather, as if she had been waiting, she struck first.

Aura met aura. The moment her wavering aura touched mine, it looked ready to be sheared like a sheet of paper.

"Kh—!"

Amber poured still more magical power into her aura and only just kept her sword from being cut. This was precisely why, when knights fought, the superior held an overwhelming advantage. To block a superior's blade, one had to project still more power to match that aura. Fail, and the sword was severed. The longer the engagement, the more the inferior was forced into a one-sided sacrifice merely by parrying. She had charged in because she was the one at a disadvantage, hoping to end it in a short fight. That a groan tore out of her even so—though I had predicted the charge—meant that stopping my sword required her to wring out more magical power than she had expected.

"Shall I lower the output of my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠aura?"

There was no answer. More precisely, she would have no leisure to give one. Amber immediately shifted her axis to the right, ready to swing. She knew what she had to do to raise her odds of winning: clash blades as little as possible, close in, and finish it quickly with swordsmanship. However much mana reinforced a body, flesh alone could not stop Sword Aura. Even tough hide is pierced by an awl in the end. Her sword drove relentlessly into every opening. A fierce assault, I'll grant her that.

Her swordsmanship had no root. More precisely, because she had not learned it within any established school, parts of it violated the grammar. Meet it calmly and it was full of holes, but that very dissonance threw an opponent into confusion. Had I been an ordinary low-rank Sword Expert, it might have worked. But I was already mid-rank, and the setting itself made me the genius of the century. In this century, at least with a sword, there isn't a soul who can beat me. If a cheap little trick like that was how she meant to face me, I was disappointed. I could have answered her as much as I liked. Had I aimed for the neck, Amber would have died more times than I could count. I didn't. To draw that out of her, I had to provoke her. I used the sword only to defend, and attacked empty-handed. It was a manner that scorned the duel outright.

"You really will—right to the very end!"

As I met every opening with a fist, I watched Amber's composure come undone. Her mana, which she could ill afford to waste, was being spent for nothing.

"Well, if it ends too fast, where's the fun? Let's say I want to watch you moan a little longer."

"You piece of trash."

"Body and heart will both be mine soon enough. What's a little moaning?"

Hm. Even so, that line just now was a bit too much like a debauched noble. I hoped the knights of the Lighthouse Order hadn't heard it. Still, the provocation was calculated. One way or another, I had to push Amber until she drew that power out. All I could do was hope that the overwhelming gap in skill, and the trauma of what nobles had done to her, would be enough to reach the mark.