The Weight of a Word

After my father bestowed the sword upon Sir Brand, that blade—along with the twelve other swords slated for auction—was featured in the imperial newspapers.

With no properly developed means of mass communication, news traveled slowly to the outlying regions, but reaching them was only a matter of time.

And so, fifteen days later, the Lander Merchant Guild, run by the Prime Minister, held the auction in the capital.

The great nobles who received invitations attended in person, without sending proxies.

It was only natural. No matter how plausible a pretext was draped over it, there was no way they didn't understand what this auction truly was.

"It's been a while, Duke."

"Indeed. I trust you have been well, Your Highness."

Among the assembled magnates, I greeted Duke Asis as he arrived by carriage, infusing my words with the power of Kotodama.

Unlike the other great nobles, he led the Neutral Faction, so his attitude toward this auction was bound to be comparatively light.

"Forgive me for throwing a question at you out of nowhere, but when might we discuss the engagement?"

"We plan to make the announcement on my daughter's birthday. I will send you an invitation then, so please do come to our territory. Lapis has been practicing her dancing quite diligently."

"Of course. That said, Duke, you need only grace this auction with your presence—do you truly intend to participate yourself?"

"Yes. I have retired from the front lines, but I was still a knight once. I'm not without my appetites."

Duke Asis was one of the four Aura Masters in the Empire. Reading the passage about how the finest swords would be gifted to whoever claimed them, his interest had plainly been stirred.

Beyond that, any family with its own knightly order would find the auction a fitting opportunity to draw skilled talent into their ranks.

Excluding the Imperial Palace, the Empire's two most renowned knightly orders had declined in prestige.

In other words, those whose name value had faltered might well seek to repair it through this auction.

No—they would. It would be to their benefit.

For them, this auction was no different from a forced sale.

If they couldn't avoid it anyway, they'd naturally raise the stakes and steer matters toward a picture that favored themselves.

"Forty-three million Penny!"

Yes, I had certainly expected as much, and yet—

"Forty-five million Penny."

Watching the auction grow far more heated than anticipated, my fingertips gave a small tremble.

The merchandise on offer, the respectable facade projected outward—every courtesy of appearances had been observed. But at its heart, this auction operated on an unspoken rule: the sins those nobles had confessed and laid bare would not be dredged up, only covered over.

Even so, I hadn't imagined they would show such devotion, calling out bids of such staggering height.

"Shills are essential to any auction."

"……"

"In advance, I quietly asked two gentlemen, Duke Asis among them, to bid as high as they could. To stand with their heads held high, they had to purchase at least one blade apiece—and run this way, none of the families can afford to think only they might take a loss. When a family that hasn't won anything throws out a bid to top the last one, do you think they'll hold back?"

So that was it—devour what can be devoured, and devour it thoroughly.

Well, fair enough. From his position as Prime Minister, how often would a chance come along to bleed the great nobles for money?

"If you consider the tax revenue that's been withheld from the Empire all these years…… frankly, even this much doesn't quite satisfy me."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

When the auction concluded that day, the total of all winning bids came to a staggering 325,620,000 Penny.

Subtracting the 91,000,000 Penny consumed by the smithing commission, that left 212,620,000 Penny.

Since the split had been agreed at seven to three, my share came to roughly 147,000,000 Penny.

Of course, after taxes, it would be about 126,300,000 Penny.

Measured against the feverish spectacle of the bidding, the sum that actually landed in my hands—after the split, after the taxes—felt rather diminished, and I couldn't help a lingering pang of regret…

But remembering the face the Prime Minister had worn, I had zero confidence in my ability to commit tax evasion and survive it. So I resigned myself to being quietly satisfied.

My reason for scrambling to build personal funds was nothing particularly special.

Establishing the Order later would consume an enormous sum of money.

Frankly speaking, diverting the imperial budget toward it would meet fierce resistance from the ministers.

This world had no religion to speak of, which meant winning the ministers' support for founding one would be difficult in the extreme.

And that was why I labored so diligently over the private funds at my personal disposal.

I currently held roughly 120,000,000 Penny—but it fell woefully short of what it would take to purchase a building and transform it into exactly what I envisioned.

I did consider ways to multiply the money further, but there was still time to spare.

Looking at the grand design, what ultimately mattered was that I inspire in those around me a reverence beyond my reach.

Viewed that way, the first order of business was shoring up my own weaknesses.

As I saw it, the power of Kotodama ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠suffered from two great constraints at its core.

The first was that each word could be used only once per day.

The second was that I could not manifest a word's power across a wide area.

In truth, solving the second problem would go a long way toward easing the first.

Extending the range of a designated word amounted, in effect, to using that word multiple times.

And the countermeasures I'd been mulling over for these flaws were mastering Initialization and Wide-Area…

For Initialization, what I had in mind was removing the daily time constraint… but couldn't it also mean that one-time-use words become re-combinable?

Depending on how the word was interpreted, the path forked—so I couldn't be certain how Initialization would actually apply.

And if the latter interpretation proved possible, that would be a kind of exploit, which honestly made it seem unlikely.

"……Don't touch my hair."

Unbefitting a child's body, I had woken in the small hours and sunk deep into thought after far too long a stretch.

With nothing particular to do, my idle hand had been running through Aria's soft platinum hair.

By the time morning light had stolen into the room, Aria pushed herself up with sleepy eyes and gently swatted my hand away.

Progress by leaps and bounds, compared to the days when she'd slap it away hard enough to leave a mark.

「Good morning.」

"Waking up to you staring me in the face—what's good about it?"

She gathered her disheveled hair with her fingers and began tying it up using a nearby ribbon.

「That's a mess.」

I reached out at the sight, but Aria shook her head—I've got it.

「Look in the mirror. If the maids see that, they might be laughing at you on the inside?」

"……How is it you always pick the exact words I hate most?"

「Meaning you already know it's a mess.」

"……Fine, do it yourself."

Aria, who had been sneaking glances at her own reflection with a scowl, finally sighed and surrendered her hair to me.

I undid the clumsy knot she'd made and re-tied it cleanly with a gentle hand. When she saw the result—unmistakably better than what she'd managed herself—she bit down on her adorable lips, starting to display that rather unfortunate little habit of hers.

「Pretty.」

"Compliments from you are no joy at all. They're hollow words with nothing behind them."

「I mean it.」

"Annoying."

Aria shot up from her seat with a look of utter disgust.

"I'm going to bathe."

Why was it that her now-meticulous habit of announcing wherever she was going touched me so?

I waited for her to return from her bath, we ate breakfast together, and then I set out for the capital with Sir Brand in tow.

"You're saying you need to shore up the weaknesses of the Dragon Tongue, then?"

"Yes. What do you think, Sir Brand?"

At my voice, its words laden with Kotodama, Sir Brand opened his mouth after a moment of grave deliberation.

"If I were ever to become your enemy and face you in battle…… naturally, my first move would be to silence your voice."

"Couldn't that be prevented in advance with proper countermeasures?"

"Can you account for a surprise attack every time? If you believe you can simply respond once you're already facing the blade, you are gravely mistaken."

Midway along the road,

Sir Brand stopped for a beat and drew his sword.

Whish!

And in the blink of an eye, he cleaved through something.

No—in truth, I couldn't even register the act of cutting itself.

The sun was beating straight down, and only by catching the momentary shift in how the light refracted off his blade—how it drank in the sunlight—did I barely discern that he had extended his sword at all.

"Just now, I severed a branch of the tree before your eyes."

"…...…"

Before the faintest seed of doubt could sprout, with a sharp crack! the branch dropped to the ground.

"In the eyes of those who look up to them, a knight is a killing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠instrument, honed solely to destroy its enemies. Given the Dragon Tongue's nature—that a word must pass the lips before it takes effect—any knight intent on killing you would grant you not so much as a sliver of an opening."

At Sir Brand's earnest counsel, I quietly straightened my thinking.

Truthfully, ever since I'd demonstrated the power of Mirror Flower, Water Moon—ever since I'd shattered an aura blade with a Kotodama-empowered display of dominance—I had, admittedly, begun to underestimate what a knight truly was.

And if I ever entered a battle carrying that mindset, I would be roundly defeated.

My physical capabilities were, just as Sir Brand said, no more than an ordinary man's.

Even if I lent a word's power to my body and briefly brought our physical standards level, that equivalence came with a time limit.

If the fight were dragged into a war of attrition, my chances of defeat would only climb.

Ah…

And just as that thought crossed my mind, two words surfaced in my head.

Fairness and Swift Victory.

I would master Initialization and Wide-Area regardless, of course—but if I could also claim words to compensate for my body's lack of agility, why not try?

Come to think of it…

In theory, nothing could exist that moved faster than light.

What would happen if I claimed Light Speed?

As means of growing stronger surfaced in my mind one after another, I strode toward the capital beside Sir Brand with a brightened face.

Flush with the considerable money from the recent auction, I stopped by the Lander Merchant Guild's branch to withdraw my funds, purchased the goods people needed for daily life, and distributed them to the citizens free of charge.

Granted, I went through the tiresome ritual of asking each person whether they truly needed what they were taking—but…

No one in this world despises a free gift, and their requests were received in earnest, converted into quests.

All told, it cost me 1,600,000 Penny.

Considering the number of consonants and vowels I harvested in return, it was far closer to a bargain—so upon returning to the Imperial Palace, I immediately attempted a combination.

"Swift Victory."

What?

I read the notification with delight at the unexpected effect.

For fifteen seconds, the usage limits on every word vanishing—that meant I could wield Kotodama without restraint.

If I claimed Light Speed on top of that, then for fifteen seconds I could move freely at the speed of light itself.

So with my heart soaring, I attempted the combination for Light Speed—and a warning I had never once seen before flashed before my eyes.

Mirror Flower, Water Moon activated of its own accord, against my will.

And within that illusion, I poured the power of Kotodama into Light Speed—and the instant I took a single step, my entire body was annihilated.

No—would "erased" be the more accurate word?

After all, assuming I'd be granted the physical compensation to withstand light speed had been convenience-driven thinking of the worst kind.

So, just as the warning had instructed, I restored the consonants and vowels consumed by Light Speed.

The message arrived loaded down with a heaping measure of weight—but at its heart, I supposed it was telling me to think things through.

"………"

If only to spare myself such a scathing rebuke in the future, I resolved to think everything through three times before acting.