How Much Should I Show?
The swordsmanship test took the form of a sparring match.
It was not a free-for-all among the children. The opponent waiting for each of them was one of the swordsmanship instructors: Sam Tomlinson.
He was the son of Headmaster Stolt Tomlinson, and like his father, a former member of the Royal Guard. The Tomlinson house was a central noble family with almost no territory of its own, yet generation after generation it had produced countless captains of the Royal Guard. They numbered among the king's innermost circle of retainers.
Even when the king offered them land or gold, they declined. A family without greed, living solely on an ancient loyalty to the crown. Some insulted them as the king's dogs; others bowed to that loyalty and martial prowess with genuine respect. That was the Tomlinson house.
"You. Class C. You still have a long way to go."
"You. Class D. What have you been doing with your life until now!"
"Young master, as expected, you are quite skilled. Class A."
A few exchanges of steel — or rather, wood — and a class was assigned on the spot. Under the title of instructor, Sam never went easy, not even on the children of marquis houses who outranked him by birth.
"Young lady, you will have to start from the beginning. Class D."
In no time at all, Roy's turn arrived.
"Next. Roy Greenhilt, step forward."
The weapon was a wooden sword — far larger than the practice blades of childhood, closer in size to a real longsword. Mana was strictly forbidden. Only pure swordsmanship would be tested.
Hmm. Let's see how much better I am than Father.
Unlike the other children, Roy felt not a flicker of nerves. Swordsmanship was never his primary specialty. That did not mean he planned to go easy — only that he had no reason to tense up. It was a wooden sword, and Sam would only defend.
The spar, however, took a rather different course.
"Hah!"
Roy swung boldly. The wooden blade arced through the air with a smooth, fluid motion. He did not charge like the other children. Instead, his attack was designed to draw out the opponent's movement — an invitation that said, I am swinging like this; do not simply block, try to strike back. Look, there is an opening. Why not thrust once?
Sam took the blow and felt a spark of interest. For the first time that day, he shifted his weight forward and launched an attack of his own.
Roy's style was fundamentally a counter style — bait the strike, then answer. And now the prey had walked straight into the trap.
"Tah!"
Whirling, Roy's sword spun and rose into the air. A counter thrust aimed precisely at the instructor's throat was cleanly turned aside by Sam's returning blade. The force of the parry was so great that the wooden sword flew from Roy's grip.
Yet Sam's face was pale with shock. Without meaning to, he had answered with full sincerity. The reason was simple: the moment Roy launched his counter, a sharpness and speed he had not shown at the start of the bout flashed out and drove for the throat. Sam's body had moved on instinct — the instinct of a knight. Had he not struck it aside, and had that been a real blade instead of wood, there would have been a hole in his neck.
"…You are Class A."
"Yes, sir."
As if nothing of note had happened, Roy walked back to the waiting children. Chloe sidled up beside him.
"What was that? I thought you were a mage? How am I supposed to deal with you getting Class A when I'm stuck in D!"
"I am a mage. Father wouldn't let me leave the house unless I practiced swordsmanship, so I learned under duress."
"What? That's ridiculous…"
Chloe looked utterly nonplussed. Roy watched the remaining children take their turns and, as he did, turned over the impressions of their mana he had gathered in the great hall the week before.
Among the new students who had entered with Roy, there was no child of the royal family or a ducal house. There were four from marquis houses, plus Daniel — the late-born son of Margrave Biswald, a peer of those marquis houses. Viscount and baron houses were beyond counting; most of those lesser children were the sons and daughters of sub-lords sworn to counts or higher, and most of them were already working hard to attach themselves to their liege houses' heirs.
Roy's current mana level exceeded that of the viscount children and fell a little short of the count houses. Naturally, the ones who stood out to him were the children who held more mana than he did.
No one particularly special among the count houses…
His gaze settled on the boy named Daniel Biswald.
That monster…
Of all his classmates, that boy held the greatest mana. The marquis children already possessed far more than Chloe, and the late-born Biswald had roughly twice as much again packed into his body.
I was distracted by the crown prince last week, but that boy is a genuine monster.
Whether the Biswald bloodline itself was simply that powerful, or whether something special resided in this particular child alone, Roy could not yet say. He had already written to the baron back home for information on Daniel. The distance was great; when a reply would arrive was anyone's guess. He had also quietly asked the Karl Mercenary Group to dig around, but they had turned up nothing useful. A mercenary company was not, after all, an intelligence network.
Then Daniel's turn arrived. The boy glanced meaningfully at Roy, then nodded to Instructor Sam.
What is that kid's problem?
Daniel Biswald's examination began. And a short while later—
"Waaaaah!"
A chorus of astonished gasps erupted from the watching children. It had not quite been a rout, but for the first time that day, Instructor Sam was being forced to give ground. Daniel's swordsmanship came on like a pack of wolves tearing into prey — not one wolf, but many striking at once. He swung the thick wooden sword as if it weighed nothing, and both its power and speed were extraordinary. He was not even using mana, and still the wooden blade eventually shattered.
"Young Master Daniel. That was an immense display of skill. I look forward with great anticipation to how far that talent will grow. Naturally, you are Class A."
Daniel came straight toward Roy.
"Roy! So James really wasn't going easy on you. I was impressed by your swordsmanship. Is that your specialty rather than magic?"
"……"
"Why no answer?"
"Not at all. Your swordsmanship was splendid, Lord Daniel. But I must decline a match."
"Fine by me. I never expected swordsmanship to be your forte rather than magic. My steward must have done a poor job of gathering information, so I'll let it go. Your skill was excellent, but you still looked a bit outmatched against me."
Is this bastard just ignoring the mana writhing inside his own body while he spouts this crap? Or does he know and is he mocking me?
"Thank you for understanding."
Roy quietly slipped away. Children like that were always the hardest to deal with.
Before long, the swordsmanship examinations were finished. Apart from Daniel Biswald, there had been no real surprises. Without mana, it was impossible to measure the children's true potential — but using mana raised the risk of accidents, so the academy was especially cautious with first-years.
Next came the second test, fought with shield in hand. No other weapons would be examined today. Roy earned the same A rating with a shield as he had without one, and was confirmed for Class A. The number of Class A students was so small, however, that a large-scale rebalancing followed.
Chloe received a final Class C and was openly delighted. She had come within a hair of Class D.
"Don't you look down on me. In magic, I am absolutely going to be Class A."
"I never… looked down on you…"
Next was the magic test.
But how much should I show?
The magic examination grounds lay in the most remote corner of the academy grounds. Sensible enough — the place was dangerous. There were always reckless brats with monstrous mana who cast without thinking.
The instructor who appeared this time was an old woman whose white hair fell to her waist. Her name was Daisy. Daisy Steelhart.
At the royal surname, every child's expression grew solemn. She carried the blood of the royal house, though not of the direct line. On the strength of her formidable magical skill she had left behind many achievements, and after retirement she had come to teach magic at the Knight Academy.
From her very first words, however, she was a thoroughly unpleasant old woman who scraped against Roy's temper. The fact that she spoke so politely and softly only made it worse.
"Magic is all about mana. With a weapon, one can accomplish certain things by borrowing the weapon's strength. Magic, however, is solely a matter of how much mana one possesses. That is an unavoidable reality. Show me the most powerful and magnificent magic you are capable of using. That is today's magic examination."
The old woman's voice sent Roy's blood pressure climbing.
It isn't even entirely wrong, which only makes me angrier.
There was a reason mana had been forbidden during the swordsmanship test as well: the academy intended to gauge each student's current mana reserves through the magic examination.
"Well then, who will go first?"
In the swordsmanship test they had called names directly. This time they did not.
"Professor. I will try."
The first to raise a hand was, entirely predictably, Daniel Biswald. The boy who already held the greatest mana among them — what magic would he display? Even Roy felt a flicker of interest.
"The margrave's youngest, is it? Very well. Let us see that talent of yours."
Before the gathered children stretched a broad, open plain. It looked as if no magic, however grand, would cause the least trouble. Toward that field, Daniel began to chant.