Carving the Ice Crystal Stone (2)
“What do you mean by my help...?”
Eirin asked, her expression puzzled. She had seen me move the Ice Crystal Stone fragment into the atelier.
But I hadn’t yet explained what I planned to do with it.
“You know this Ice Crystal Stone fragment is the tribute for His Majesty, right?”
“Yes. The delegation from Essemont came in person for that very reason.”
I unfolded the cloth covering the Ice Crystal Stone. A gem the size of a small trophy cup gleamed with ethereal light.
Its ice-like crystal caught the blue hues of water, exuding a faint chill. Eirin stared at it, momentarily entranced.
“An Ice Crystal Stone crystal... this large. I never imagined.”
As a specialty of Essemont, it wasn’t entirely new to Eirin. But a fragment this size was exceedingly rare.
That’s why Margrave Wilhelm is offering it to the emperor as tribute.
A treasure beyond simple monetary value. Sending something so precious surely carried layers of meaning.
Last winter’s grand ball at the imperial palace, where his grandson Yulian had committed a grave faux pas—it was undoubtedly an apology for that.
No matter how much of a puppet the emperor was, to the fiercely loyal Wilhelm, he remained his sole liege.
And since I was the fiancé of the emperor’s sister, Lilia, there was political maneuvering at play too.
All in all, an item of immense worth.
Handing it over as the delegation’s representative would satisfy the emperor to some degree.
But I intended to put my own hands on this Ice Crystal Stone.
A plain reward won’t cut it. Anything money can buy holds no value to me.
For something on a higher level.
I needed to move the emperor to such delight with the tribute that he’d grant any request of mine.
I gathered my thoughts and explained to Eirin.
“You mean to sculpt the Ice Crystal Stone anew, Your Highness? But it’s as hard as diamond. At this size, it would be an incredibly difficult task...”
That was right. I planned to carve this Ice Crystal Stone.
Eirin trailed off for an obvious reason.
Tampering with it risked ruining its already perfect beauty.
“That’s why I need your help. You have an eye for art and exceptional skill as a painter.”
“No, my skills are hardly noteworthy...”
“I acknowledge your talent. So I’d prefer you not downplay it.”
Eirin fell silent for a moment.
A faint blush colored her cheeks—subtle enough only I would notice. My maid was unexpectedly weak to praise from me.
“But His Majesty’s birthday banquet is this Saturday. Even if we sketch a design, how could we finish in such a short time...?”
“No need to worry about that either. I’ll use alchemy. For a special mineral like Ice Crystal Stone, transmutation via alchemy might actually be better than physical carving.”
Eirin hadn’t considered that; surprise flickered across her face.
“Alchemy... Of course. You’ve been studying it diligently for a while now. I hadn’t thought of that.”
I’d gleaned some knowledge of Ice Crystal Stone transmutation formulas from Professor Elmaier.
But I knew full well that even with alchemy, crafting a sculpture from it was no easy feat.
Especially one this large—the formulas grow exponentially more complex in scale and variables.
Water, wind, earth—the three elemental attributes.
To shape something as intricate as a sculpture? It might be beyond even a second-year Pantheon cadet.
But it doesn’t need to be that precise.
The key was pleasing the emperor. A puppet with the soul of an ordinary everyman—his tastes were easy to predict.
If I nailed the formula calculations, my envisioned Ice Crystal Stone sculpture was entirely feasible.
And I knew a very useful human calculator for those alchemical computations.
“Anyway, I’ll handle the alchemy side. Eirin, you take charge of the sculpture design and sketches. I’ve outlined the detailed image and specifics here on this paper.”
Eirin took the paper I offered. She nodded.
“Understood, Young Master. I’ll do my utmost as instructed.”
There was no doubt with Eirin. I left the sketches to her and headed to Roia Hall for afternoon training.
***
Combat Division, Roia Hall.
Cadets in combat uniforms swung their swords vigorously across the training grounds.
“This is sparring, but treat it like real combat—focus! Some of you have already grasped your sword styles’ first ultimate techniques. Step it up!”
“Yes, Instructor!”
The stern instructor Darren’s voice boomed over the field.
He prowled the sparring pairs with a piercing glare. My partner was, as always, Lucia.
Darren approached us.
“Not a bad pairing. Yulian’s Lion Heart Sword emphasizes majestic power in its strikes—and you’re executing them true to form. Lucia, since switching to swift sword style, your strikes have grown even sharper. You two counter each other perfectly.”
Lucia had taken my advice and shifted to a speed-focused swift sword style. She’d maintained it, earning praise even from the exacting Darren.
“But both of you expose glaring weaknesses if you falter. Use this time to target each other’s flaws—that’s the point of sparring.”
With that, Darren pointed out one more thing.
“And Lucia, your inner power lags behind Yulian, who awakened mana late. Swift styles don’t need as much inner power? That’s a misconception. It’s absolutely not true!”
“Understood, Instructor!”
“Your deficient inner power lets Yulian dodge every strike. His skill plays a part, sure—but no swordsman who uses mana can neglect refining it. Focus more on mana cultivation.”
“Yes, Instructor!”
Lucia replied loudly. As Darren moved on, he told me,
“Yulian... Hm. Keep at it like this. Resume sparring!”
His gruff expression and flat tone.
But words like that from the tiger-like Darren were high praise. My growth had been meteoric, after all.
Lucia said,
“I... need to train harder.”
Her voice was glum. Sparring against me made her shortcomings stand out.
Lucia’s swift strikes. I dodged them all.
Impressively fast, but to me—honed by real combat—they seemed sluggish.
Lucia wasn’t lacking, per se.
But as my party’s damage dealer, she fell short of passing grade. Darren had nailed her weakness spot-on.
“Inner power... I need to invest more time in mana cultivation...”
Her weary face, eyes dulling unconsciously—it didn’t bode well.
The burnout player Lucia. Talented like another protagonist, but juggling training and survival was no easy feat.
Getting into Pantheon like this? Absurd talent.
Unlike cadets drilled in family styles or sword guilds, Lucia was slum-born. She’d learned swordplay haphazardly to survive.
Even as Baron May’s adopted daughter, the Mays weren’t a martial house. Yet she’d honed that mishmash desperately.
All driven by hatred for her birth father, Duke Pedro. She’d polished her blade dreaming of the day it met his throat.
Admitted to Pantheon on that chaotic style alone? Blood ran true.
Pedro de Orhain... Not for nothing the Act 2 main villain.
Leader of the Centriac Knights, a Grand Master rivaling Margrave Wilhelm. Only three in the empire—his prowess was unquestioned.
Lucia had inherited it fully.
“Instructor Darren’s right. Mana cultivation is vital for swordsmen.”
“Yes... He’s correct.”
“Finish the spar first. We’ve got time left.”
I crossed blades with Lucia again. But her strikes, drained of much mana, lacked bite.
I traded blows leisurely, thoughts drifting.
Her current mana cultivation method won’t cut it.
Lucia naturally hadn’t learned the Centriac Knights’ top southern method. An abandoned bastard, forgotten by Duke Pedro.
Hers was a basic one from a retired slum mercenary.
Her grit pushed her past 2nd tier, but it capped there.
Mine was the White Night Knights’ standard—pure, efficient, reliable with steady practice.
Though reaching 3rd tier so fast? Thanks to elixirs and bloodline.
Yulian’s mana awakening was just late.
Grandfather Wilhelm’s doting had stuffed him with rare elixirs since childhood.
Lately, even Snow Wyvern heart essence.
A Reinhardt pureblood exceptionally blessed. Smooth sail to 3rd tier. Worlds apart from Lucia’s lot.
But even I had limits. Standard methods wouldn’t propel me further quickly. And my timeline was tight.
Half a year. Need strength to raid an empire-grade monster nest.
New mana cultivation for me and Lucia, then.
I was already moving on it.
The emperor’s reward would make it possible. I told her,
“Lucia. Hear my proposal? My sparring mentor left for Essemont, so I need a new partner at my estate.”
She stared at me blankly.
***
The next day.
I attended Tuesday’s alchemy lecture without fail.
“...Thus, alchemy’s core principles—perception, resonance, transmutation—you’ve memorized them. But true understanding demands endless exploration and practice at each step. Remember that. Next time, advanced material perception. Dismissed. Cadet representative!”
Chloe stood at Professor Elmaier’s call. At her lead, the cadets saluted.
“Thank you for your efforts, Professor!”
Fitting the noble air of the Alchemy Division, even their farewell was refined.
I hadn’t dozed, but Chloe’s eyes were drowsy. I said,
“Chloe. Didn’t you say you’d seek my forgiveness for that rudeness last time?”
Her sleep-talk calling my name. Using me as her erotic dream’s object without permission.
She’d vowed to do anything to atone. Time to hold her to it.
She won’t have forgotten so soon.
Chloe seemed eager to entangle with me. Her red eyes sparkled, sleep vanishing.
“Of course I remember. Aiterne Merchant Group folk don’t make empty promises.”
“Any lectures after this?”
“None! This was Professor Elmaier’s last.”
“Perfect. Come to my atelier. I need your help.”
Her gaze turned sly. My atelier—the site of our tryst during Cecilia’s contract.
“Hehe. The atelier... I knew it. Even Viscount Yulian plays the typical noble playboy at times. Craving another private rendezvous?”
“Hm. Not wrong.”
“No need to be shy. I get it perfectly.”
She was misunderstanding a bit. But it didn’t matter to me.
I took her in my carriage to the atelier.