Chapter 94
Chapter 94
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 94
Chapter Title: Snow Duke's Thought Process (4)
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When Estelle was young, the continent was engulfed in the flames of war.
At that time, there was no such thing as an academy, but the children of prestigious noble families often learned basic magic at magic towers through their connections.
She too received instruction at the Doube Magic Tower.
Among the apprentice mages of her cohort, no one could match Estelle's talent or skill.
"The Roshiar unique magic path has its roots in elemental magic. Because ice is merely water transformed in its properties, and water magic among the three primal elements finds its basis in the heavens."
Even after she rushed out of the magic tower upon hearing the news of her father's death, it was the same.
Even on a battlefield where nothing but corpses, maggots not yet dead, and undead that should have been dead filled her sight, the teachings of the magic path were there.
Because magic was something completed through enlightenment, not theory.
Estelle's spear tip transformed unlike that of the boy soldier who clumsily swung his weapon like threshing rice from behind a helmet that didn't even fit his head properly.
Sharp, precise, and wondrously keen.
On the day someone severed the Demon King's neck and brought the war to an end, she had become the successor to the family's unique magic path—the one to revive her house—and the Iron-Blooded Grand Duke.
"But that doesn't mean it's ordinary ice magic. Our magic actually blooms from the 'Tree of Sephirot,' the center of the human aspect, where most elemental magics do not reside."
The tree refers to humanity.
In the case of Sephirot, the caster's mental transcendence serves as the foundation for spellcasting, rather than convoluted incantations.
That said, it doesn't mean magic circles aren't necessary; they merely provide the frame, while what fills them is the domain of the mage's enlightenment.
Some likened that enlightenment to buds and flowers sprouting atop the tree's branches.
"The crucial point is that unlike other mages, we have no hearts. There are no buds to sprout on the tree to begin with. So what completes the Roshiar unique magic path? Conviction, forged to perfection."
"Conviction...?"
"Indeed. The one unshakeable thought, aspiration, mission that you can never forget, even amid the agony of your heart being ripped out raw."
It pointed to the extermination of the demon race.
This was the most basic, fundamental understanding of the unique magic path that Adella Sylvestra needed to grasp.
Estelle spun her spear half a turn and elegantly thrust it into the ground.
This should have conveyed it sufficiently—
"Now do you understand?"
"Um..."
"Hm? Do you have a question?"
—Or so she thought, just as every professor and friend at the academy who had ever tried to change Adella up until now had thought.
"But what exactly are the three primal elements?"
—Ha, what an utter joke! Wasting my time just to spout that clever bit of sophistry! What's the difference between the mighty Roshiar and common street riffraff!
When I arrived at the Luhillen Viscount Family home to meet Bill, bad luck had Darling staying at the mansion.
Something must have thoroughly soured her mood, as her bellows from the inner quarters echoed even into the reception room.
Bill excused himself to me for a moment and went to check on Darling several times, her anger not yet subsided.
—Shall we return this Dragon Flame Incense, family head?
—Hm, who said to refuse it? People may sin, but objects are innocent. Besides, what recourse is there now that it's already been delivered?
—Then regarding the demands from Roshiar...
—Relay that if he stays quiet and leaves, I'll permit his stay in Pharenchia. But there will be no dinner invitations or courtesies extended to the viscount family.
—What should I say, then?
—Something about being busy!
She seemed busy indeed.
She must have been preparing to head out, as the hem of her usual red L'anglaise-style outing attire and her white gloves peeked through the door crack.
"Hm? Canteen Owner?"
"Good day, Viscount."
I rose and gave a light nod, upon which she abruptly changed course from her distant, hurried steps and came to sit here.
She rang the bell on the side table, summoning a butler to bring her tea.
"Perfect timing. Two in the afternoon is meteorologically ideal for tea time."
"But you said you were busy."
"There was a regular meeting of the Lion & Iron Merchant Association, but it just got canceled."
The Lion & Iron spanned not just Pharenchia but the kingdom's central and southern regions—a fairly large outfit.
No wonder she was dressed so finely despite the heat.
"I'm just here on a quick errand, so don't lie and get going."
"Not a lie. The chairperson herself decided not to attend, so of course the meeting would disband."
"......"
"More importantly, what is this errand of yours? Speak."
Brushing aside her reluctance, I pulled out the small bear doll I'd found earlier.
I'd planned to entrust it to Bill, but since I'd be investigating the merchant caravan anyway, it might as well reach Darling's ears too.
"An item from the western forest."
"A gift? How unusual for you to give me something. I'll gladly accept it..."
Crackle!
"Ah, not a gift, then."
The moment she took the doll, she fiddled with the charred necklace around its neck and adopted a grave expression.
An artifact with curse-nullification capabilities.
One of the many precautions she kept on hand, given she wasn't a genius at magic.
"The western forest?"
"Yes. It looks like an ordinary doll, but it's actually a demon statue."
"Demon statue..."
"That said, there must be a manufacturer behind its design and branding."
The sharp woman grasped my point without me needing to elaborate.
She replaced the hat she'd set on her lap, let out a sigh as the servant brought her tea, and rose from her seat.
"Canteen Owner, something urgent has come up."
"The Lion & Iron Merchant Association?"
"Conveniently, it's a gathering of continental merchants. A little probing should snag their tail."
The western forest and demon statues were her utmost taboos.
She'd investigate properly, no doubt.
Darling usually prodded relentlessly at my canteen's peace, but witnessing her serious demeanor, she was surprisingly alluring.
Though her dignity took a hit from being the same height as me while I sat on the sofa.
"Some discourteous thought crossed your mind?"
"No, not at all."
Especially while holding the doll in one hand—this was straight-up...
"Canteen Owner?"
"It's nothing."
Liv was in the library again today.
With most students having returned home lately, the vast space stood empty.
It was undoubtedly the perfect environment for studying, yet atop her desk rolled not books but her father's keepsake staff.
Half illusion yet simultaneously real—memories from within Baldur's nightmare kept resurfacing.
"Haa..."
The Great War had changed so much for her.
The immense power of the unique magic path demanded equally vast responsibility and ceaseless vigilance toward the magic path itself.
Her reunion with her father had lightened her heart considerably, but conversely, it caused her to lose her prior goal of uncovering the truth.
And the experience of witnessing countless deaths had honed her even sharper than before.
She had yet to realize that her condition resembled Louis's postwar symptoms.
—Sis! It hurts, don't pull my hair!!
—Read the book first, you dimwit. What exactly have you learned in the half year since coming to the academy?
—I-I'll read it! Let go so I can!!
Familiar voices reached her ears as she idly rolled the staff about.
The sudden commotion had the few remaining students in the library buzzing.
—Hey, isn't that... the Snow Duke?
—Did she come to see the students? From the Roshiar family?
—See! I told you to stay and study over break!
Interest swarmed in an instant.
Liv couldn't help but look over as well.
Students got excited even over seniors who'd reached the mid-layers of the magic tower—let alone the Snow Duke dropping by unannounced?
Running into her in Pharenchia was the stroke of luck equivalent to being hit by lightning on a stroll.
Beep!
"Ah, um, ex-excuse me! Lady Estelle!"
But Estelle—who had shown up yanking her own sister's hair by the roots—wore a considerably darkened expression.
She posed the question to the librarian trembling before the entry restriction.
"What's the issue?"
"Th-the f-freshman beside you... h-hasn't gotten her library card yet...?"
"Library card?"
"Yes! On your first entry, just show your student ID and we'll handle it right away! So if you'll wait just a moment...!"
Her head turned stiffly, like an ice sculpture.
Meeting her gaze, Adella responded with a brilliant smile.
"Not even once, until now?"
"Hehe, this place looks pretty cool...?"
And shortly after—
—It huuuurts!! Owwwaaaaa———!!!!
Adella's scream reverberated off the library's inner walls.
The Snow Duke's appearance threw the library into an uproar.
Even the librarians, who normally scolded at the slightest chatter, sparkled with anticipation for an autograph or even a single line about magic.
Amid it all, Liv sat at a distance, watching only Adella—who wept fat tears like chicken droppings while forcing herself to read.
She desperately wanted to speak with the Snow Duke, but approaching her after that scuffle with her sister felt awkward.
At Estelle's single remark that she'd be visiting often and to avoid causing a fuss, the students dispersed like clouds.
They stole glances at tomes they never touched normally, hoping she'd address them.
—Sniff! *sniff*...
The library regained its silence, punctuated only by Adella's occasional sniffles.
At that moment, a voice came from above Liv, who sat slumped at an empty desk.
"Curious magic."
"Yes!?"
Startled, she looked up to find Estelle—who'd just been smacking her sister's head—gazing down at her.
"M-Magic?"
No magic tomes were open anywhere.
"Yes, that."
A slender finger pointed to none other than Liv's staff.
"Imagery magic? Manifesting it close to reality isn't difficult, but sustaining it through daily life demands considerable proficiency, no matter the spell."
"Ah, I didn't create this one."
"It carries memories, so it might as well be yours. To cherish half of an ordinary yagim wood staff like that."
The unwavering declaration somehow convinced her: Maybe it is.
As Liv fell silent, Estelle leisurely took the seat ahead of her.
"You looked like you had something to ask me."
"Me?"
"Yes. I've seen plenty with eyes like yours."
Rookies on their first battlefield clutched their spear shafts to splinters, unable to voice their inner fears to superiors.
The virtues of command born from wartime experience drew her to Liv.
Perhaps due to that composure, Liv cautiously voiced the anxiety weighing on her heart.
She altered the details vaguely—something about entering a dungeon or encountering a monster.
"This happened..."
The Northern Grand Duke listened to her tale from start to finish with utmost seriousness.
How the terror of death and the horrors of war transformed people.
And how one might return to their former self.
Once she'd finished, looking relieved yet faintly fearful, Estelle gave a simple reply.
"You can't."
"Pardon?"
"Even if you erase the painful memories, your body remembers. If you've endured something horrific, you must use that past as fertilizer to cultivate strength—lest it ensnare you."
Only then could one reclaim leisure and rediscover laughter.
Estelle said this without smiling herself.
"And if you've lost your goal—soldiers fresh from war often suffer this—that sense of exhaustion leaves no choice but to find another reason."
"Another reason...?"
"Yes. The reason you must go on living. You'll have to find it yourself."
At those words, Liv's gaze naturally drifted to the space below Estelle's shoulder.
A geometric emblem resembling three overlapping triangles, with four laurel leaves rising behind it: the Four-Leaf Medal.
The kingdom's second-highest honor, Grand Officier.
Laurels engraved upon a crest were no honor granted lightly.
She had witnessed her father's death but had yet to restore his honor.
Noticing this, Estelle lightly curled the corner of her mouth.
"Big dreams. Medals aren't easily won."
"That's fine."
Liv gripped her treasured staff anew, her eyes alight.
"I have magic."
"...A splendid resolve. Your name?"
"Liv Lavre de Greenwood. Daughter of Paris Greenwood."
"I'll remember it. I have business here, so..."
"Hm?"
Estelle, who had been regarding the spirited young mage, turned toward her sister.
And beheld Adella slumped over the desk, hat jammed down, hair a disheveled mess.
Crunch, crunch.
Frost rimed every spot Estelle's footsteps passed.
But was it mere fancy that the sound of something hard crumbling seemed to emanate from her mouth?
Liv briefly regretted whether she'd meddled unnecessarily last time.
No need to prattle on about life's harsh realities to Adella—she looked about to freeze solid soon enough.