The Kingdom's Last Bloodline
The day of the Academy Martial Arts Tournament dawned.
Save for the Pure Mages, there was scarcely a student who hadn't been waiting for this day. Upperclassmen who'd spent the year unable to hold their heads high thanks to the second-years of the Golden Generation; students facing down the geniuses of their own year; even the first-years who'd attended the academy listening to tales of the brilliant exploits of the class just above them — every last one of them steeled their resolve and prepared for the matches.
Some were tense. Some burned with fighting spirit. And among them was a girl staring a hole through the roster with brighter eyes than anyone.
Her name was Cesset. A kid possessed by gambling.
"Hmm, hmm... What do you think, gambling-obsessed instructor?"
"You're the one obsessed with gambling."
Rai frowned at Cesset's question. Then again, he'd shown up first thing in the morning at a place taking bets on the champion, so he was in no position to talk.
"As expected, the three have the lowest odds. Violet, Diana, Sozeta. Or will a new dark horse rise? Fourth-year Bederot isn't bad, but compared to those three he doesn't stand a chance, does he?"
Cesset looked over the list, turning it over in her mind. Word had spread among the students that Rai's private lessons were excellent, so Philia and Abigail had made the list of championship favorites as well — but she didn't so much as glance at them. One might have called her cold, as a friend, but the presence of the top three was simply that overwhelming.
"Hmm... Will it be last year's champion Sozeta, who lost his honor? Or Diana, who pulled off the upset of beating Violet? Or is it Violet after all?"
There were plenty of names on the board, but most of the money was pouring toward those three. The odds on everyone else had swollen to eye-popping heights because of it — yet aside from people betting out of loyalty, or hunting for an upset, nobody expected a thing from them.
"Stop pretending to weigh it all so seriously and just tell me one thing. You came to put money down anyway. Should I report you to the Vice Headmistress?"
"You threaten people so naturally."
"It's a law-abiding citizen's report of illegal activity, I'll have you know. What do you think of Diana?"
At Cesset's question, Rai looked at Diana's name near the top of the great bulletin board. She had put on such a spectacular showing last year that plenty of people were betting on her again, full of expectation. Rai shook his head.
"Diana will never beat Violet for the rest of her life."
"..."
She'd simply asked for a match prediction, and the answer that came back prophesied a bleak future on top of it. Cesset glanced around at the people nearby. Even Rin, her attendant, seemed to find it unexpected, watching him with a curious look, so Rai added:
"In her current state, that is."
"Ahh— because she's a lazy genius?"
"If she were a genius, being a little lazy would've been fine."
"Did you and Diana become enemies? That's an incredibly harsh assessment. Aren't you two close?"
Nobody had imagined Diana would receive an evaluation like that. Cesset stared at the side of Rai's face as he declined to answer, then furrowed her brow as if the whole thing displeased her, pulled out her money, and asked:
"Then what about Sozeta?"
"Didn't you say one question?"
"Think of it as a bonus while you're at it. Your evaluations are so brutal I'm scared to bet."
Watching Cesset toss her coin purse from hand to hand as she spoke, Rai snorted a laugh and finally gave her an answer.
"Sozeta will probably lose to Violet too."
"Has Violet grown that much?"
"Well, their growth potential is probably about the same. Both of them are geniuses I can't even compare to. Geniuses are so damn irritating, I swear."
If anyone who knew his true identity had been standing beside him, they would have sworn at him. This was not the sort of thing the Devil of All Nations ought to be saying — the man who had gone to war in his early teens, fought his way through countless brushes with death, and toured every nation on the continent like a traveling performer, cutting down the strong one after another. Even Cesset, who didn't know his identity but knew that Rai's skill was beyond measuring, frowned.
"Yes, yes. Geniuses are irritating. So both of them are geniuses — why does Sozeta lose, then?"
"Different types. If Sozeta had faced Violet last year, I couldn't say. But now, if they fought ten times, he'd win once."
"May I hear your esteemed opinion on what you mean by different types?"
At Rin's question, Rai turned around. Finding it curious that she — who always kept her mouth shut unless it was necessary — would ask anything at all, he looked at her for a moment, then answered with a reluctant face.
"Both of them learn ten things when you teach them one. But Violet grasps those ten by instinct. Sozeta, when you teach him one thing, fills in the rest with imagination."
Cesset's head tilted at the cryptic words. Rin, who had been thinking with a serious expression, asked in a somewhat unconfident voice, unsure whether her interpretation was correct.
"Do you mean that Lord Sozeta possesses exceptional analytical ability?"
"Yes, something like that. That guy predicts countless situations based on something he's experienced once. His imagination is outstanding. And he has the talent to turn that imagination into experience."
"But Lord Sozeta must have plenty of sparring experience as well. And—"
No matter how strong Violet was, she was human. She used human swordsmanship. She moved as a human moved. Sozeta could well have analyzed her matches and spars thoroughly enough.
"It's a difference in adaptability. Violet in particular is the type whose thoughts you can never pin down, so victory or defeat will come down to whether you can respond to the opponent right in front of you, then and there. And that kind of instantaneous reflex belongs to Violet, whose instincts run strong."
Rin, who had never heard that Rai had taught Sozeta or was close to him, lowered her eyes in thought, then bowed her head.
"My perspective has been broadened. Thank you."
"It's merely the opinion of an ordinary instructor."
While the two of them were talking, Cesset placed her bet on Violet.
"All in."
"Yes, twenty gold received."
"Young miss, where did you get that kind of money..."
"Hmm? I put my allowance and living expenses on it too. Rent and this and that add up to quite a bit. The odds are low, so you've got to bet big."
Rin seized the ear of Cesset, who was beaming as if she'd done something clever, and launched into a full lecture. Just last semester she had said she trusted her young miss — but this, it seemed, she could not let slide.
Watching Cesset get her money refunded and get dragged away, Rai cackled. Behind him, someone placed a bet.
"I'll bet on Miss Philia and Miss Abigail. One gold each."
Rai turned around to look at the silver-haired man in front of the betting counter. To bolster the academy's finances, outside visitors had been permitted to watch the Martial Arts Tournament starting this year. Not just anyone could walk in — invitations had been sent to people in key positions.
"I shouldn't be the one to say this, but those two don't have a chance."
"Is that so? I was rather looking forward to it, given that they're receiving private lessons from an excellent instructor."
The silver-haired man smiled even at Rai's words and put his money on Philia and Abigail. His face, catching the sunlight, was refined, and yet it carried the dignity of nobility intact, radiating an aura that made him difficult to treat casually.
"The academy's nothing special either. The administrator's lost her mind, so anyone can just waltz right in."
"Well. I came with a proper invitation."
The silver-haired man showed his invitation and smiled.
"Your hair's gotten quite damaged."
"And you, Rai — your hair color... has faded a bit."
The silver-haired man smiled, stroking hair that had grown close to white, and suggested they walk together. They couldn't call each other by name where people were around, so Rai nodded, and the two of them walked through the academy grounds.
They hadn't even bothered to cast Soundproofing Magic, yet they talked as they strolled, as if exchanging everyday conversation.
"It's been a while, Ermene. Or should I call you by the name on the invitation?"
"It's written as Ermene on the invitation as well. Chairman of a trading company in the Sahalan Region."
"Haha— the Empire's pretty sloppy too."
Hearing the answer of Ermene, Third Prince of Keilen Kingdom, Rai shook his head as if he found it amusing. Ermene smiled as he watched the people passing by, then looked at a bench.
"Shall we sit for a moment?"
"Sure."
The two of them sat down and said nothing. Looking for all the world as if they were simply resting and watching people go by, Ermene saw the academy students passing and smiled gently.
"Such happy expressions. They're wearing the faces of the knights I've always dreamed of."
"Huh? I've never made a face like that."
"I never said I dreamed of you, Rai."
"Whenever I went into the castle, you used to trot along after me everywhere."
Sharing childish memories, Rai and Ermene looked at each other and laughed.
"So, is the Control Seal working well?"
Seeing Rai's brightly smiling face as he asked, Ermene's smile froze. He drew his hand from his coat pocket and shook his head with a bitter expression.
"No. It doesn't work at all."
"Yeah. Because now I'm not some lizard brat's slave — I'm the slave of an almighty god."
Rai laughed and raised his middle finger toward the sky.
When the Empire had invaded the capital of Keilen Kingdom, their highest priority had been neither the king nor the mountains of gold and treasure piled high. The Control Seal. They had searched first for the seal that could command the Children of the Grave — the seal that could control the Devil of All Nations at Ketlangca Gate. But King Margos no longer possessed the seal, and he died without ever revealing its location.
"Shall I give you this as a souvenir?"
"Giving a slave's collar as a souvenir? That's a pretty nasty hobby."
Rai's eyes narrowed as he looked at the hateful Control Seal in Ermene's hand. As if he had expected as much, Ermene slipped it back into his pocket, stretched, and stood.
"Confirmation's done, so you're heading back?"
"No. I have to see the skills of the disciples you've raised, Rai. I'm rather looking forward to it."
"What the hell are you people thinking?"
At Rai's words, Ermene turned his head and met his eyes.
"Well. Now I... no. I don't know what anyone is thinking anymore."
It was a considerably loaded statement. It could have been deflection, not wanting his intentions discovered — or, taken at face value, it meant that after a long life of rebellion they had become a band of outlaws who had lost their purpose.
"If you pull anything weird today, you'll die too."
"Yes, I know. You're like a blade in that regard, Rai. Today I truly intend only to watch your disciples."
Ermene looked at the academy students with sad eyes.
"...Are you asking me for the meaning of your own existence?"
When Rai asked back, mischievous, Ermene smiled. But he still looked just as sad.
"They look happy. The academy students, the people of the Empire. The faces I always wanted are right here."
"Why not quit, even now?"
"We've come too far to quit. Too many people have followed, looking at my back. Now I understand how you felt. I didn't know the responsibility of being driven from behind was this heavy. How on earth did you endure and keep living?"
At Ermene's question, Rai shrugged.
"What's there to endure? 'Just follow my back!' You say it arrogantly and run off however you please."
"Hahaha. That's just like you."
The two of them fell silent for a moment.
"Ah, right. Did you people kill Joshua?"
Asking as if he'd just remembered something he'd left at home, Rai watched Ermene give a light nod.
"Hmm... You've still got kids of that caliber left?"
"We're people who follow in a hero's footsteps, in our own way... no. I suppose we're ghosts now."
Looking down at the seated Rai, Ermene opened his mouth as if to say something, then shook his head.
"I talk as if we're going to do something grand, but the truth is we have no power left at all. The Empire is remarkable."
"It is. I got wrecked too."
"You didn't lose. We were the ones who lost. Anyway, I thought I could become like you, so I clawed and clawed, and in the end I became a marionette bound by countless threads. Looking at threads I didn't even know when they'd been tied, I realized the Empire's greatness."
Looking down at his empty hands, Ermene let out a hollow laugh.
"That's what I understand the least. That something so underhanded, so vile, so cold-blooded can still make its own people smile. It's so terrible and so magnificent it gives me chills."
As if he hadn't been expecting an answer — murmuring more to himself than anyone — Ermene weakly clenched his empty hand and turned away.
"I intend to make one last desperate struggle."
"Do as you like."
Rai answered with a smile.
"But don't worry. I have no intention of causing trouble for people wearing such happy expressions. I simply want to land one blow on the ones who look down on us and try to use us as chess pieces. And..."
Stopping in his tracks, Ermene looked at Rai with a bitter smile.
"It's also atonement."
"You didn't do anything wrong."
Without waiting for Rai's answer, Ermene left.