Freshman Welcome Ceremony (3)
Damn it...
Roy barely swallowed the curse that nearly tore free of his throat.
Just how many monsters were these people? The instant he sensed the mana of the Crown Prince and the faculty—and of the children all around him—he was crushed under it. Even with Chloe as his baseline, more than twenty of the kids here held more mana than she did.
And that was only the beginning. The mana Aron Steelhart carried was so far beyond anyone else present that “on another plane entirely” was the only honest description.
Twenty-five times Chloe’s… no. Maybe thirty.
Roy remembered, again, that the Steelharts had once been a marquis house of the Empire. Then what level of mana had the Imperial bloodline itself possessed? The Emperor’s? Or the mana of the hero Karl, said to have surpassed even that Emperor?
His head spun. Once more he felt, with brutal clarity, that he had been nothing but a frog at the bottom of a well.
After his reincarnation, Roy had been overjoyed simply to be born a baron’s son. Spells that in his previous life had required powerful mana stones or jet-black rock could now be cast without those constraints. And thanks to drinking the Elven Liquor, his mana had more than doubled on top of that.
And yet… what the hell were these monsters?
A mere marquis house held mana like that? Or has something changed over the last few hundred years?
No one left alive could give him the answer. His fist clenched without his noticing and trembled; cold sweat soaked his palm until it was slick.
Quietly, Roy deactivated his Golden Eyes.
It’s fine. There’s still time…
He had the Time Spirit. And according to that spirit, there were countless stores of Dragon’s Breath still waiting. He would find them all and drink every last drop. The boy swore it again in the quiet of his heart.
He wiped his sweat-slick palm on his trousers and forced his attention back to the Crown Prince’s address. The mana of everyone present had stunned him, but the words Aron let fall during the speech were startling enough in their own right to make Roy’s eyes go wide.
“…and so, though it pains me to say it, I ask you to refrain from banquets for a time. Our kingdom’s knights and soldiers are giving everything they have on the border. Since the future cannot be predicted, I ask that each of you do your utmost here, so that whenever war may call, you will be ready to stand as a true knight. That is all!”
No applause followed the Crown Prince’s closing words. No thunderous cheer rose. Only faces drawn tight with unease. It was a heavy speech for children of twelve to bear.
Crazy… there’s a war on the border right now?
Summarized, the Crown Prince’s remarks ran like this: for the past several years, monsters had begun to seethe in every direction, and the kingdom was under unprecedented strain. Territories with strength were holding, but many were not. And amid all that, something ominous had begun at the border. The neighboring Isco Kingdom—quiet for decades—was massing troops along the frontier. There had even been a few clashes already. The most recent military engagement had taken place only a few days earlier, while Roy himself had been on the road to the capital. The information was so fresh that even he could not have known it in advance.
If they’re cancelling banquets, how bad is it?
Throwing a feast in the middle of a war would not merely draw the royal family’s displeasure; it could easily brand someone a traitor. Anyone with sense would cancel of their own accord.
Principal Stolt raised his voice again.
“If any house has a banquet that cannot be avoided, so be it. But every one of you must gather in this place again tomorrow. In place of the usual parties, the faculty and you new students will meet for introductions. That is all.”
Now Roy understood why the entrance ceremony had felt so much bloodier than expected. The faces of the people on the dais were not the faces of adults welcoming children.
He felt, sharply, the need for informants who could gather this kind of intelligence in advance.
Yeah. I’m going to need more money after all.
Information on Dragon’s Breath, of course—but also the ability to see unexpected turns like this coming. Such intelligence could make him money, and it could keep him out of danger before the danger ever arrived.
As the Crown Prince left the dais, Roy hurried into a corner and bowed his head to stay clear of the path. His mind, however, was already full of business plans. That was why he failed to notice, at first, that the Crown Prince had stopped walking and was looking straight at him.
Step. Step. Step.
The Crown Prince came to a halt right in front of Roy’s nose. Even then Roy was still lost in thought; only when someone tapped his shoulder from behind did he grasp what was happening.
“……!?”
“You’re wearing something rather strange. What is that, exactly? And where did you get that medal?”
Every gaze in the great hall—the Crown Prince’s included—swung toward Roy. He was still wearing his protective goggles.
“These are protective goggles, Your Highness. I had a craftsman make them for me personally, to shield my eyes when I ride hard. As for the medal, His Majesty the King sent it to me on my seventh birthday. It is my only true pride, and something I wish the whole world to know about.”
“Protective goggles. An interesting little toy. And your name?”
“Roy. Roy Greenhilt, Your Highness.”
“Roy… I feel as though I’ve heard that somewhere… Greenhilt? Ah. I have it. There was a rumor for a while about some snot-nosed brat who took down an ogre. Especially about a master of his who supposedly possessed extraordinary skill. That would be you?”
“I am ashamed to say so, but yes. The rumors are somewhat exaggerated, yet they are still the truth.”
“Hmm. Baron Greenhilt… You. Come speak with me later.”
“…!?”
“I will send an invitation. Visit the royal palace before long.”
“…As you command.”
A great many of the watching children were openly stunned. Roy was no different. A sudden summons to the palace—and at the Crown Prince’s personal invitation? He hadn’t even shown anything remarkable. The whole situation felt absurd.
Of course, he could guess a few reasons. The enchanted weapons known as Geren’s arms. If a full-scale war with the Isco Kingdom ever broke out, and if the two kingdoms were roughly matched in strength, the side that held those magic weapons would almost certainly win. Roy might well be the only person who held the key that could tip the balance of a great war.
A short while later the Crown Prince left the hall exactly as he had entered. Watching the corridor, Roy entertained a rather dangerous thought.
If I go to the palace, I’d like to get a look at the King’s mana. Is this Crown Prince some kind of mutant, or is the bloodline itself full of monsters like him?
For now, curiosity was still a half-step ahead of fear.
After that the professors delivered a long stretch of tedious remarks and then quietly withdrew. Under ordinary circumstances the students would have been flooded with banquet invitations the moment the ceremony ended. That would not happen now.
But that did not mean the children simply scattered. Just as before the Crown Prince’s arrival, they still had to face the other noble sons and daughters, introduce themselves, and make their rounds. Anyone who failed to win even a single ally in this hall—anyone who left without making a single friend—would almost certainly spend the next four years until graduation in misery. Noble society was the extreme of collectivism.
Or rather, a slight adjustment of the term made it more accurate: not collectivism, but collective self-interest.
But it looks like I don’t even need to move myself anymore.
Roy was a baron’s son, the lowest rank present—and yet he no longer had to take the first step.
Is this the Crown Prince effect?
Children he had never seen before in his life came crowding up, peppering him with questions. With a thoroughly uncomfortable expression, Roy found himself trading empty conversation with one brat after another. He was beginning to suspect the Crown Prince had thoroughly set him up.
Because of that prince, I’ve suddenly been made to look as if I’ve already taken the royal faction’s side. Did he know from the start that I was a Greenhilt and approach me on purpose?
Roy suspected the whole thing had been Aron Steelhart’s carefully laid plan. Most of the boys now speaking to him were children of the central nobility.
Time slipped past in a blur. Back at the manor, Roy threw himself into preparations for his enterprises; he showed his face at the academy only when attendance was unavoidable. At the faculty introductions, several professors asked about Geren, and Roy fielded the questions with carefully measured answers. It was not only the professors—among the noble children there were those well-versed in rumor, and their questions centered less on Roy himself than on Geren and the magic weapons.
Unwanted conversationalists continued to approach him every day without decrease. Meanwhile the names on the list the baron had given him gradually became familiar faces.
A week passed that way, and at last the Knight Academy’s proper classes began.
In the morning came explanations of the overall curriculum ahead, its purpose, and the reasons behind it. That same afternoon, tests of martial skill and magic were held without delay. With roughly a hundred new students, it was impossible for everyone to take the same lessons at the same time.
They’re going to sort us into classes by ability, aren’t they?
The first of those tests was the swordsmanship examination.