Who Do You Think You Are!
If the strength you possess falls short, then you borrow the strength of something else.
It is a simple matter. Whether that means becoming a tool, becoming part of the structures around you, or becoming the situation itself as it is given — or whether it means turning an opponent's reason, their emotions, even their own blunders against them.
"What in the world is all this commotion?!"
"W-we can't stop him!"
By the time Seras belatedly hurried to the library, the situation had grown far worse.
"Wha—?!"
Even the teachers who had thrown themselves bodily in front of Cariel's rampage were being knocked flat or flung aside, unable to make sense of what was happening to them.
He would clamber up behind the prince sprawled on the floor — Alesius — seize a fistful of his red hair, and swing a punch straight into his face. And the moment anyone moved to stop him, he would naturally catch the hand or arm reaching for him, or else seize the man's leg, his ankle. Then, as if by magic, the other person would lose their balance, or stumble as though slamming on the brakes, or get dragged down mid-step — toppling to the ground in exactly the way a toddler taking his very first steps does, crumpling helplessly the instant his center gave out.
"Your Highness!"
The next wave of staff who rushed in to pull Cariel off the prince were no exception. A few of them cast spells, aiming them at him.
"Are you insane?! What if His Highness gets caught in it?!"
"W-well, that is..."
"Then adjust your aim, won't you?!"
"And if that lunatic uses the prince as a shield, hmm? What will you do then?"
"N-no! Surely he wouldn't, that, he wouldn't go that far... huh?"
That was the scene into which Seras walked.
"S-Seras!"
Watching those creatures gape at her like motherless chicks, like newborn fawns, made something bitter rise in her throat.
"……."
She pressed a hand to her forehead and let her mind turn for a moment. Then, as expected, she set about calming Alesius — along with a surge of regret that she should have been the one to arrive first.
That doesn't matter now, does it.
Cut it away.
Fretting over useless feelings and events already past, one by one — do that, and you won't last long in this world.
With that, Seras simply leaned against one of the windows and began to observe the situation unfold.
"Hey! You're supposed to stop him — what are you doing?!"
"Why are you just standing there so calmly?!"
Those people of hers, when it came down to it, were by no means fools. Take them one at a time and every one of them was talented.
So how did they degrade into a mere crowd and become this senseless?
Was this why Alesius had said crowds must be controlled and managed?
It was a disappointment she felt every time — a resignation, too — but in a crisis, in an emergency like this, the disillusionment only ran deeper.
"It's already slipped out of our hands, so what do you expect us to do?"
Even the teachers had stepped in and failed to restrain him — what did they imagine they could accomplish?
No, to be fair, there was nothing they couldn't do if they truly tried.
It's far too late.
Even if they did step in now, it was impossibly late for their intervention to be credited as having saved the prince. And above all, now that Cariel had gone this far, no one could predict how things would spiral.
Letting things escalate this far means he has no will to hide what he's thinking.
If anything, he wasn't merely exposing his intent — if he intended to let the rumors spread, then by now that aim had succeeded, and splendidly.
This was not a boy suddenly drunk on his own importance over his engagement to the Imperial Princess.
Something about this situation had twisted in a way that felt almost uncanny.
Besides, forcing him to stop at this point risked sparking yet another flare of his fury.
I'd rather not get singed by the sparks.
And if she did nothing — if Alesius came to believe she had half stood by and watched this happen — would he forgive her?
That doesn't matter either.
Getting hurt by his own incompetence and then venting it by blaming others? The moment he did that, the bond between them was finished anyway. He would bow his head for now, of course, but resentments pile up, and when they do, both sincerity and loyalty thin out before one knows it.
It was not for lack of anyone else to attach herself to that Seras had chosen to stand at Alesius's side.
It was because she knew him that well — because theirs was a relationship that old.
And then, what of Cariel?
"……."
Here, even with a mouth, she had no words to offer.
For her to turn anything back or set it right — the water had been spilled long ago.
Because even at the very end.
Because in the end, it had not been Cariel that she chose — it had been her younger sister, Eras.
Blood runs thicker than water.
…For a mercenary creature like her, there had never been a choice at all.
"Hyaap!"
Then, mid-chaos — the thick scent of burning mana spread through the air, and a rope of crimson light dropped out of nothing, binding Cariel's right arm in an instant.
"……."
Only then did Cariel's head turn.
Tearing his gaze from the crushed Alesius beneath him, he cast a flat, unconcerned look at whoever had restrained him.
That preternatural, untroubled indifference.
It sent a chill down the spine of everyone who witnessed it.
"…It seems things have gone quite beyond salvage in my brief absence."
The man was the head librarian, who also taught the Academy's magical theory courses — a suitably wrinkled face, hair gone white as ash, and a snowy white goatee framing his chin in kind. For a long while, he could not find his voice before the devastation spread out before him.
Within the radius of the fight, hardly a single piece of furniture remained intact; even the bookshelves had partly toppled, the volumes they had held spilled across the library floor in utter, aimless ruin.
The sole mercy was that it had ended as a simple brawl, which meant the damage, relatively speaking, was contained.
…The bitter absurdity of having to count that as fortunate struck him anew, but he quickly shook his head and raised his voice to bring order to the scene.
"This is absurd! What on earth is this commotion about! Regardless — clean this up at once! And as for the ringleaders, every one of them—"
Crack!
"……?"
When, exactly, had he undone it?
The moment the magically conjured rope vanished, Cariel, without so much as a pause, resumed swinging his fists.
The head librarian, aghast, let out a strangled squawk.
"C-Cariel, you wretch! Right now, at— at once, that violence! That act! Will you not stop that act—?!"
Even the dignified old teacher, flustered by the turn of events, cast his spell once more.
And it was only around then that Cariel, offering no further resistance at all, closed both his eyes.
It went without saying that word of the incident spread, and quickly.
By the time the sun had sunk low, Alesius — treated, his condition stabilized — was summoned straight to the Emperor's office, having changed into fresh attire.
The moment he reached the door and the guard announced his arrival, permission to enter came at once.
"So you've come."
A rectangular desk, its legs raised conspicuously high, paired with another to form a great U, and across its surface the documents lay stacked in deep, unending drifts. The Emperor was working through them one by one where he stood, inspecting each before pressing down his seal.
"I heard you were hurt badly. Are you well?"
"…I beg your forgiveness, Your Majesty."
"As long as you understand, even if it is late, that is enough."
The Emperor asked in a placid tone.
"I have long known that one day you would be broken the way you were today."
"……."
"Cariel is gentle beyond his years, and deep in his patience, so he endured and endured for your sake. But even endurance has its limits."
Even so—
"That he bore it for as long as he did was something of a surprise, even to me. Yes — did I not tell you a moment ago? That the adults would let it slide, calling it a mere quarrel between children."
"……."
What Cariel had said to Alesius's face, earlier.
That the Emperor had repeated it without altering so much as a syllable meant—
From the very beginning….
"And yet this remark of his — that you crossed the river too far to return — is a strangely meaningful one. Do you understand it? Answer me. Do you have any inkling of what that boy now feels toward you?"
"……."
"Answer. I will not ask twice."
"That he… bears a grudge against me?"
"And who, then, provided the justification for that grudge to take root?"
"…It was I, Your Majesty."
"And why do you think he chose to strike back now, of all times?"
"That is…"
Even as Alesius faltered, the Emperor went on pressing his seal to the documents in unhurried calm.
Thud!
"Do you not know?"
Thud!
"Not even a single step ahead?"
Thud!
"Two steps are beyond you, three steps are beyond you."
Thud!
"And all you manage—"
Thud!
"—is to fail to see even one step ahead? When the stark truth sits squarely before your eyes?"
Thud!
"You do not see it?"
"Is it because of his engagement to my sister?"
"Wrong."
Thud!
"It is because you crossed the line."
Thud!
It was around then that the Emperor came upon a document requiring some deliberation; he picked it up, and resting his chin on his empty hand, sank briefly into thought. Even so, he continued questioning the prince in that same even voice.
"Then what line, precisely, did you cross?"
"Is it because I… tormented him?"
"Has that not been going on for years already? What could possibly be new about it?"
…As I thought. Of course he knew.
And yet he never gave an order, never said a word about it — because it was a quarrel between children. A contest of nerves between children. Call it conflict, call it struggle between those who carry blue blood — at the end of the day, it is still a children's fight. Even if that children's fight, given time, should swell into a struggle of blood — for a grown man to insert himself into so small a thing would be a disgrace to his name, would it not? Some would brace themselves and choose practicality over face. But that is a blunder only the ignorant would commit — those who do not yet understand how authority and majesty truly live and breathe. If the imperial throne totters, the nobles' standing shakes with it. Were this nothing more than the petty games of hollow power-holders, then such ruthlessness — a direct collision of force, an open exercise of violence — would indeed make it easy to carve fear into the pretenders who puff themselves up on bluster.
"I could have put a stop to the fighting. I could have commanded you myself, face to face, not to commit such a despicable thing. But that would have been something forced upon you — not something you chose of your own will. Had I done so, would you have accepted it willingly?"
Would you truly have understood it, and taken it to heart?
"When the previous Emperor gathered the brothers who tormented and threatened me, and commanded them to stop, my brothers — I state this with certainty — did not stop persecuting me for a single instant. Do you know why they behaved so?"
"…I do not."
"Think before you answer. You don't know? And you answer that instantly? I did not summon you here, in the middle of this most demanding season, to hear such a thoughtless reply."
The tone was calm.
But Alesius clenched his fists so hard, so instinctively, that the knuckles drained white.
If he did not, his body felt as though it would begin to tremble of its own accord, wound tight as it was with tension. As though the document would be set before him again, and he would be pressed for yet another answer.
And so—
Suppressing even the sound of his own breathing, strangling every whisper of air—
Alesius came to understand, fully, that he stood at the edge of a cliff.
"Do you require time?"
"…No, Your Majesty."
"When I bid you answer, then answer."
"……."
"Now."
One second.
Two.
Three.
Buying himself a moment with a long, deep breath, Alesius spoke.
"…Is it because His Majesty — because Father — permitted it?"
"Why do you ask me that? I asked for your own thoughts. Is that the answer you arrived at? I never instructed you to answer by awkwardly tossing my own mind back at me. What has come over you?"
"That is…"
"Answer again."
The Emperor pressed him — and yet did not hurry him. But to Alesius, it felt as though a blade's edge had come to rest against the nape of his neck; he held his breath and felt, vividly, the cold sweat running down.
"I……."
….
Tsk, tsk.
The Emperor clicked his tongue.
"Why dither over a question so simple? The conclusion is plain. Because fear was lacking. Because terror was inadequate."
"……."
"Now that the lesson has been administered, surely you can answer. What it means — that you crossed the line."
No. Not at all.
I don't know.
Is it because I am dull?
Alesius strained with all his might to smother the voice welling up inside him.
"Even now, you have not grasped it?"
The Emperor clicked his tongue once more.
"Had it been Cariel, he would already have discerned not only my intent but my innermost heart — without a word being spoken."
"……."
Again.
Again.
…Cariel. Why, every single time, does he rate Cariel above his own son? Is it an overestimation? An underestimation? But one thing is certain — the Emperor could not know Cariel better than I myself do.
"It is your own petty, narrow judgment that underestimates him."
"…!!"
As though he had read straight through to the thought.
The Emperor let out a slow breath, his expression one of deep frustration.
"And that is why today you stood helpless, unable to properly lift a single hand, and suffered such humiliation."
"……."
"Even an Emperor, on a battlefield, may die to a blind arrow — may, for a moment's lapse, be gravely wounded by the spear of some limping nobody."
And yet you—
"Why were you off your guard? Why so at ease? So bound by fixed notions that today, and tomorrow, and every day after, you assured yourself that nothing could touch you, that you would remain forever unscathed?"
"That is…"
"Speak plainly. Where did you pick up this habit of letting your words trail off?"
"I… apologize."
"I never asked for an apology. Why do you apologize to me? There is another to whom it is owed."
What you must fear, what you must hold in reverence now—
"It is not I. And what you ought rightly to guard against and loathe is your own pettiness and baseness — that injustice of yours, that shrunken field of vision."
Hate the evil, it was said — but never hate the person.
"Why have you done the exact opposite?"
"……."
"Are you mute? Why do you say nothing?"
Only then did the Emperor's gaze finally settle on Alesius.
"Do not play the cripple like some able-bodied fraud. That is rank deception — plain and simple, a crime."
Lift your head.
Open your eyes, and look straight at me.
"Did I ever expect competence from you?"
"No, Your Majesty."
"What was it, then, that I did expect?"
"…You bade me keep my place. You bade me discharge my duties. You bade me never — never shirk my responsibilities."
"You certainly talk a fine game."
"……."
"El found her place on her own. Cariel found his on his own — neither was ever ordered to. So why are you like this?"
Cariel? Why — why is it always Cariel? What in the world did that bastard ever do, to be judged like this? Perhaps it was true in the past — but what does the past have to do with the present? Where is the guarantee that greatness once means greatness still?
"All this time he has been yielding to you. All this time he has deferred to you, favored you. And even that — you do not understand it in the slightest. Tsk, tsk."
The Emperor shook his head.
"How dull you are. How far must I spell it out for you? Had Cariel's heart been only a little darker, a little more venomous, you would never have walked away unscathed."
"Father! How could you — how can you say such a preposterous thing… to me?"
I am your son, am I not?
Then why—!
"Cariel and you — you are both like sons to me. And I imagine Rueld would say the same."
"……."
"In childhood, that is why Cariel stood in El's stead. No one ever ordered it of him — on the contrary, he volunteered, gathered everyone together, and persuaded them himself that it had to be so."
At that tender age.
"Did I ever hound you to become like Cariel? Even once? Did I not tell you, time and time again, that you had your own path — that you need only walk it, steadfast and unbending?"
"I… I…"
"I said only this: cultivate, at the very least, your dignity and your character. That was all."
Tsk, tsk.
"Tomorrow morning, at the morning greeting, I will hear your thoughts again. You may go."
….
Even as the door of the office swung shut behind him—
the Emperor, as though some nagging concern had just been resolved, was lifting his seal once more and pressing it down upon the documents.
Thud!
The door closed.
And even that final sight slipped, at the very last, beyond the far edge of Alesius's vision.
――!