Leon
Leon Lauderdale, second-year of the Academy's Swordsmanship Faculty.
He had missed his chance to make a name by driving off the villain—me—who peddled opium wine to the students, and he had missed his chance to catch the nobles' eyes by drifting into something with the Third Imperial Princess. Even so, Leon was the most famous student at the Academy.
As a freshman he had been advised by the professors themselves to withdraw. The reversal began the moment he advanced into his second year. He single-handedly arrested a demon-worshipper who had slipped into the entrance ceremony, brushed the feat off as coincidence, and then, when the top student of the year picked a quarrel over it, dueled him and pasted him with ease.
The opium-wine episode was supposed to come next. I wrecked that one, I'll admit.
Settling the conflict with the elves, though—that, at least, I wanted to leave to Leon.
It's not a bad thing for him, either.
In the original, Leon's rise only truly began after he visited the Great Forest. He crushed the Woodris clan's plot to sabotage the Saintess's attempt at mediation, and heroically put down the radical elves who flung themselves at him in a frenzy. Without that feat, a war might really have broken out.
The reward was lavish indeed.
"Leon Lauderdale. Had it not been for you, war would have broken out in the domain of Mother World Tree. We would not have lost to an inferior race, yet the wasting of the forest would have been difficult to prevent. Thanks to your contribution, disaster was averted. …As the Saintess requested, we shall actively pursue peace negotiations with the Empire."
Moved by Leon's deeds, the elves bent their pride and opened negotiations with the Empire.
"Sir Leon. Ah—not 'sir' yet? Haha! You will be, soon enough. On the Third Imperial Princess's proposal, the conferral of a merit decoration is already under discussion. The highest honor a civilian may receive. …And not only that. You'll be granted a title as well. You stopped a war alongside the Saintess; even a reward of that order feels wanting, does it not?"
Having secured favorable terms with the elves thanks to Leon, the Empire repaid him with a decoration and a peerage.
If he distinguished himself this time, he would receive a reward much like the one in the original. True, I had sent Anais off to a convent, but wasn't that good for Leon too? She was hardly the only woman in the world. There was even a heroine candidate who, together with Anais, carried the main couple's story through a love triangle—or he could simply find some decent woman and keep her company. Once he rose in the world, the girls would cling to him on their own.
Leon is the one who ought to go to the Great Forest.
There was no guarantee he would go of his own accord, so I decided to watch him with particular care.
Putting people out to gather gossip would not have been difficult. Summoning the Swordsmanship Faculty professors and pumping them for what they knew of Leon was also possible. The method I chose, however, was to visit the Academy myself. Seeing the real thing was the surest way.
If it looked as though he would not move as the original had, I meant to work him just enough to set a hand between his shoulder blades and push. If he didn't step forward, I would be drawn in eventually, and then it was obvious what kind of situation would unfold.
I wanted to avoid that, if I could.
Two days later, I set out for the Academy.
The pretext was that I wished to sponsor Leon Lauderdale personally. Sponsoring an enrolled student was uncommon, but not impossible. Considering he was already a known genius, I decided to name a high figure. So long as I could get him to follow the Saintess quietly into the Great Forest, money was no object. I could always make more selling the product.
The smoke is really pretty. All billowy, all fluffy, like it would be soft if you touched it. But why is it this pretty? Why pretty? There's gotta be a reason. You not gonna answer?
Leon, who had been admiring the smoke that hazed the dormitory room, let his expression twist ever so slightly. The hand that had been flailing to touch the smoke dropped as well.
Ignoring me…?
By nature Leon was a gentle person, overflowing with consideration for others. That was not self-praise. It was simply the truth. He had even forgiven the trash who had subtly looked down on him last year, after only beating them a few times on the training ground. He had walked right past the con men of the Magic Faculty—who were taking 550 thalers a bottle for Chandler's Syrup, a price that had been skyrocketing for days—without laying a hand on them.
The first lot he could overlook. The second were genuinely bad. Even so, he still had money left from what the nobles had sponsored him at the start of the first semester, so he simply paid.
A friend who ignored him, though—that he could not forgive. Once or twice you could call it a mistake, but from the third time it was blatant disregard. If the other had only offered some empty yeah, I guess, Leon would have laughed and let it pass. Blanking him entirely was too much. The closer the friend, the truer the closeness, the more courtesy you owed.
Right. I'll say something.
Leon, who had been lying down, tried to spring up and show a little backbone.
…But it was a hassle, so he gave up.
He tried at least to sit up. Sadly, that was a hassle too. The one comfort was that he still had the will to roll onto his side. Squirming like a trout on the verge of death, he finally succeeded in turning over. All he had done was flip his body, and yet a considerable sense of achievement washed through him.
He had meant to get serious and have a word with his friend, but his mood had improved, so he decided to drop it.
Right. People ignore you sometimes.
Perhaps he felt Leon's gaze. Unlike Leon, who was at least spread across the bed, his friend Rudy—sprawled flat on the floor—slowly turned this way. As if their hearts had met, friend to friend, Rudy tugged the corner of his mouth into a grin. Leon smiled. Rudy smiled even more brightly.
"Opium's, huh? Pretty good in its own way, right?"
Leon couldn't exactly deny it, so he nodded.
Yeah… it is good.
He sighed and looked at the strangely shaped brazier set in the middle of the room. He didn't know the principle, only that it was a tool that endlessly sent up opium smoke, so you could enjoy the stuff in comfort without a pipe. Sniffing the smoke alone wasn't enough, though. Once an hour you also had to drink rum made from molasses, and that doubled the kick.
"Leon, only half a mouthful of the liquor…! Got it? Drink more than that and your feel goes dull."
"Yeah. I know."
"Do it like this and it's no worse than the syrup… right…?"
Better than the syrup?
Well. He could never agree with that.
Leon had taken up Rudy's suggestion and started smoking opium only that morning. He had skipped meals and been rolling in the smoke for nine hours. Now and then he ate some, too.
The reason he had turned to opium was nothing special. Chandler's Syrup was simply too precious, and too expensive. A few third-years in the Magic Faculty used to secure stock and resell it to the students, but after the sales ban the price had jumped. He still had fifteen bottles set aside… and every time he took one, it felt as if his chest were being torn open.
Too much of a waste. And he had no idea what he was supposed to do once it ran out.
While he was sighing into that dead end, the method Rudy taught him was opium and rum. Do it this way, he said, and you could be happy on the cheap.
"…Even so, it's not the same as Chandler's Syrup."
Leon muttered it, and Rudy couldn't bring himself to argue. He let out a damp sigh. He talked like that, but he must have thought the syrup was better too.
"You're right, Leon. …The syrup's better."
"Syrup's the best!"
"Syrup. The best."
He had finally won Rudy's surrender, and it only made him gloomier. The bleak fact remained: Chandler's Syrup had become hard to get. That only made him miss what it could do all the more.
Stir about nine spoonfuls into water, and Dreamy and Thumpy would well up together, and that was just right. Lost in the feeling, if he swung a blade like a madman for two hours or so in the middle of the night, he felt even better. His heart pounding as if it would burst, his spine going all tingly…! Just imagining he might never enjoy it again made him sad.
I might not be able to take it before long?
There was nothing in the world that effort could not accomplish, so a way had to exist somewhere. He only worried that the moment he found it would come too late. Secure a substitute for the syrup, or sweep up what little of it remained. If he didn't prepare some alternative, all that waited for him was a dark future. A life without syrup. He had no confidence he could endure on nothing but this measly opium.
I need to find a way, fast. This isn't the time to be lying around.
Leon heaved sigh after sigh, then suddenly took half a mouthful of the liquor. The syrup mattered most, but keeping the kick from fading was also a critical matter. And yet, perhaps because longing for the syrup had begun to sprout, the pleasure of opium and rum started dropping sharply too. A little dull, you might say.
Still, it was better than nothing, so he lay there blankly, staring into the empty air, praying that if he only lay still a way would appear on its own.
Someone was interfering with that solemn prayer.
Bang, bang!
"Leon Lauderdale! Are you in your room?"
It was a Swordsmanship Faculty assistant.
I'm already miserable, what the—oh. Did a professor send him because I skipped class?
Leon had cut every lesson for the day and only smoked opium. That never happened back when he took nothing but Chandler's Syrup. If anything he had overflowed with energy, and after class he had even asked a professor for a teaching bout and thrashed him cleanly.
Absence was clearly wrong. It was not a wrong big enough to come looking for him like this. He was stronger than the professors anyway, so there was hardly anything left for him to learn.
Just ignore him.
He'd leave eventually.
The moment Leon settled on that, an enticing voice reached him.
"…Leon. There's someone who wishes to sponsor you in cash. Sir Allan of the Imperial Guard. The sum, he says, is fifty thousand thalers. But before he decides whether to sponsor you, he wants a brief interview."
Fifty thousand thalers?
Focus began to return, little by little, to his loosely unfocused eyes. Fifty thousand thalers was a lump sum that could secure Chandler's Syrup in bulk even in the middle of a shortage. With that money, making do with opium would be over.
Gods above. Thank you.
At last, a single shaft of light.
Feeling his chest swell, Leon took out the syrup he had been saving. He meant to borrow its power, so that in the interview with his sponsor he might look even a little sharp.