Subjugation Festival (1)
Hugo's study.
Buried among stacks of paperwork that hardly suited him, Hugo sensed a presence drawing steadily nearer.
Knock knock—
"It's me, Uncle."
The voice beyond the door that accompanied the knock belonged to his nephew.
"Come in."
Hugo pressed his eyes, which had grown dim from staring at tiny script, and spoke.
"What is it?"
"I've come to offer New Year's greetings, and a gift as well."
"…A gift?"
The unfamiliar word from the boy's mouth made Hugo tilt his head.
He's still at an age when receiving gifts ought to feel more natural, yet he's bringing one—and with New Year's greetings no less…
Even as he marveled at the slyness of it, Hugo smiled with quiet satisfaction. Shiron bowed slightly at the waist, as if playing along with him.
"Yes. A small token of my sincerity, offered to the pillar of this household."
"Ha, hahaha."
Hugo finally burst out laughing.
They say praise always feels good no matter how often you hear it. In all his years he had heard so much praise that calluses ought to have formed on his ears—yet hearing it from his nephew brought a sensation entirely new.
"And what is this gift of yours?"
"I hope it will be to your liking."
As Hugo leaned forward, Shiron drew a glass bottle from his coat and set it on the desk. Inside, a reddish-brown liquid filled it to the brim and sloshed gently.
"Liquor?"
"That's right."
Shiron answered with a subtle smile.
From what he had observed over the past year, there were not many gifts among those currently within his reach that would truly delight Hugo. Something suitable as a present, yet unobtainable anywhere else. The one thing that satisfied both conditions was, of course, liquor.
A few months earlier, Shiron had ordered Encia to go to Dawn Castle. The whiskey that had slept for an absurd length of aging in the basement where the ice never melted was far too precious to leave rotting without ever bringing it out.
The glass bottle before Hugo had originally been merchandise set aside for presentation when making the emperor's acquaintance—but since no one knew when that day would come, he had portioned some out in advance.
Pop—
When Shiron opened the lid with practiced ease, a distinctive sweet fragrance gradually filled the room. From that smell alone, Hugo knew at once what the unmarked glass bottle contained.
"The fine liquor of Dawn Castle."
"You recognized it at once."
"…It's been truly a long time."
Hugo gazed at the glass bottle with distant eyes.
A precious thing he had tasted only once, at his coming-of-age ceremony. Even when he had journeyed to Dawn Castle to observe the succession rites, his mouth had watered for a drink—but Hugo had not been family head, and for the sake of his pride he could never have asked Yuma for it.
"I'm glad you like it."
Seeing the smile on Hugo's lips, Shiron smiled with him.
"…"
But then, at some point, Hugo's laughter stopped.
Looking at Shiron's smile, he pressed his lips firmly together. And after a moment, a firm resolve settled in Hugo's heart, and he spoke.
"Shiron."
"Yes."
"I cannot grant this request."
"…What?"
He had not even made a request yet, but Hugo refused first. At that firmness, Shiron's eyes widened a little.
"I—I haven't said anything yet."
"Shiron, I'm a little afraid of you."
Hugo pushed the glass bottle on the desk forward. It was unmistakably the posture of rejecting a gift.
"It was last year, wasn't it."
Hugo slowly drew his forward-leaning body back as he spoke.
"When you made that absurd request asking me to allow you to become a wastrel, I simply thought you'd turn into some good-for-nothing who only drinks and chases women."
"…Uncle."
"I thought I could manage that much myself."
Hugo closed his eyes tightly and drew a deep breath. To Shiron, it looked as if he were bracing himself for the shock to come.
"But that wasn't the case."
Hugo wore a slightly sad expression.
In place of their father Glen, he believed he held the duty and responsibility to guide the siblings onto the right path. Born of Prien blood, a destiny befitting the epithet of the great ones would inevitably follow. At least until that destiny was decided, he had wanted to give the children a good environment. He had meant to grant whatever they wished for as far as he reasonably could. Moreover, Shiron had not even awakened the power of prophecy, had he? Knowing the future and still choosing a course that invited loss would be pure madness.
However.
The power of prophecy is not omnipotent, and it cannot see every future.
Hugo recalled the words of his father, who had already left this world. So long as Shiron could not see every future, there would inevitably be things he missed in the minor details…
"Wait—wait a moment."
Just then, Shiron hauled Hugo's mind up out of the depths of his musings.
"I don't know what misunderstanding you're under, but I didn't come today for a request."
"Hmm?"
"I came today to ask for a little advice."
Advice?
"……Wasn't it going to be a request beyond the permission to become a wastrel? Since you suddenly presented a gift first, I assumed that was it."
"Of course the New Year's greetings and the gift are part of the process. Even so, it's not a request."
Shiron shook his head several times, then fixed his gaze on Hugo.
"Surely you won't refuse advice either, will you?"
Shiron took a blue envelope from his coat. It was the invitation and letter he had received through Victor the other day.
"I was hoping you could give me some advice about the Subjugation Festival. Ah—is this also a request, and therefore not allowed?"
Shiron smiled bitterly toward Hugo. Hugo's expression shifted into one of feigned fluster. Then, feeling a little embarrassed, he cleared his throat a few times.
"Ahem. That much I can do anytime. But the Subjugation Festival?"
"Yes. I received an invitation through my 'friend' the other day."
When Shiron deliberately emphasized the word friend, Hugo clicked his tongue and opened the envelope Shiron had handed him.
"This is maddening."
Having carefully read the letter, Hugo sighed with a slightly different meaning from before.
"It seems the emperor is trying to create an opportunity for you to show your skills through the Subjugation Festival."
"I see."
Shiron nodded as if agreeing with Hugo's assessment.
The festival held on the Arwen Highlands in the eastern empire was a place of competition among the renowned martial families of the empire and the continent. It was not a martial arts tournament. The Subjugation Festival Shiron remembered was a quest to hold back the endlessly surging waves of magical beasts on the Arwen Highlands, which had been a mid-game region.
"The Subjugation Festival is a festival where the rising stars of each family can freely show off their power while cutting down the surging magical beasts."
Hugo crossed his arms with a troubled look as he spoke.
"But you mustn't think of the rising stars of the families as mere chicks who've just shed their baby feathers. Most are elites carefully selected to elevate their family's renown. Most of them are surely veterans masquerading as rising stars."
"Hmm…"
Expecting me to make a splash in a place like that…
Shiron rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a bit sour. Even if they possessed the Prien bloodline with its differently graded dragon force, the other families were not incomparably inferior to the Priens either. Even Hugo's wife Eldrina had been born of a renowned magic family in the empire. Drawing on her innate mana affinity, she could perform dual chanting as naturally as breathing. The martial families were no different. They put swords into their children's hands from a young age and made them consume spiritual medicines that could easily buy a house per bottle. And looking only at the cases where Prien daughters had married into other martial houses, the Prien bloodline was not exclusive to the Priens alone.
Before he knew it, Shiron had taken out his notebook and was jotting down Hugo's words.
"Have you ever participated in the Subjugation Festival, Uncle?"
"Of course."
Hugo nodded and spoke as if reminiscing. It had been the year he had just held his coming-of-age ceremony at Dawn Castle—a festival hosted by the emperor who had only recently held his coronation.
"It's already a twenty-year-old, worn-out story, but I remember it vividly. There, I smashed the faces of the other families' young masters and knocked their teeth out."
"Why is that?"
"Because they mocked me as a northern country bumpkin."
Answering Shiron's question, Hugo crumpled the kind expression he had been wearing.
"In the end, since it's a place where hot-blooded youths show off their power, minor squabbles break out easily enough."
"Huh…"
Shiron narrowed his eyes and sighed. So it was not some hopeful event where everyone united to hold back the waves of magical beasts? As expected, the term "demonic heretics" suited this place quite well.
"But I don't think Franz will expect you to make a big splash there either."
"Because I'm too young?"
Hugo slowly nodded.
"Yes. If you shine there, good. If not, that's fine too."
"But you don't seem opposed to me participating in the Subjugation Festival."
"…I won't stop you. If you don't want to go, you don't have to. But the other day you were a bit rude to Franz. If you refuse his goodwill, things get a little troublesome."
Hugo sighed, recalling his ill-tempered friend.
"Franz is not a fool who holds empty expectations. And… he will not create a result that would earn my hatred."
Several nights passed after that.
As if deep in thought, Shiron repeatedly stroked his chin with his small hand.
I don't want to go.
It was something like a habit carried over from his previous life—Shiron thoroughly hated events where you simply showed up and put in an appearance. Should one call it something like a training-camp event? Company outings at least promoted camaraderie among employees, and school trips at least carried the meaning of travel. But training camps were group lodgings whose purpose one could never quite figure out, weren't they?
Depending on your behavior, this drill instructor can be either an angel or a devil.
Bullshit.
He had ended up recalling an unpleasant memory. Moreover, though the Subjugation Festival bore the name of a festival, it was a slaughter festival of hacking magical beasts to death left and right. If there were visible experience points so that real-time events like Level Up! occurred and he could feel the sense of achievement of growing stronger as he cut down magical beasts, that would be nice, but…
Reincarnation Sword God had no such elements at all.
He understood that the emperor intended to elevate this body—but Shiron had no need to risk his life for fame and success. His only goal was to kill the Apostles. But not going was also a problem. Franz of Iron and Blood was a madman. A madman who worried more about the nation's future than about his child getting beaten up somewhere. Of course, since there were actions befitting the vessel of an emperor, Shiron did not want to criticize his inhuman aspects. He simply hated that madman's flames blocking his path.
What method is there to just pretend to put in some effort and ride along…
In the annex dining room, Shiron spoke toward his sister, who was chewing on a piece of bread.
"Lucia."
"…Yeah?"
Shiron smiled subtly at his sister as she tilted her head.
"Want to go to a festival with me?"
"A-a festival? All of a sudden?"
Lucia's eyes went round at the abrupt suggestion. The word festival made her heart flutter a little.
"What kind of festival? A snow festival? Or something like a harvest festival?"
"Hmm… something similar."
It was not an entirely outlandish word. Shiron smiled, recalling what Hugo had said.