Overwhelming Gap and Unshakable Trust
Those who faced an overwhelming gap in skill typically chose one of two paths: surrender or flight. Yet even gripped by fear, they were still knights of the North. Having confronted Kalen's hellish mental image, they showed such resolve, but none stooped to the ugliness of fleeing. In the end, one by one, they set down their weapons and surrendered.
Torun had learned the sword as befitted a knight, but his mastery fell far short, and he was swiftly captured by Kalen. This absurd civil strife thus ended in Selasier's victory. There was one final matter left, but in the grand scheme, it was as good as won.
Had Kalen not grasped the 3rd Hierarchy while dancing on the edge of death. Had he not unintentionally gained real combat experience until now. Had he not unconsciously unleashed his mental image. Had any one thing been lacking, the outcome of that final battle would surely have been different.
Loyalty won through violence lacked true sincerity, but Selasier didn't care. At this point, she needed only one person to look her way. These were people who had lived their lives in the North, after all. Even if it was false, they had no choice but to submit to the North's ruler.
For that reason, most of the knights had turned to Selasier's side. Makbel and Torun were now confined in a simple tent. Selasier, with her cold gaze, issued their punishments without meeting anyone's eyes. She merely looked upon them with disgust, as if at vermin.
The simple tent, where she might once have been thoroughly crushed and then toasted with bottles of celebratory wine, had been excessively decorated to Torun's tastes. Now, its master lay bound and imprisoned within.
Before Torun sat Kalen, still expressionless. Knowing the man's penchant for petty tricks, Selasier had specially asked Kalen to watch him.
"You... what the hell are you...?"
Torun asked Kalen with pathetic grievance. And truly, it was unjust. To him, this civil war had been nothing more than amusing diversion—nothing more, nothing less. It should have been. Until that strange boy, no Northerner, ruined everything.
How could someone with that battered body—a child who hadn't even undergone his coming-of-age rite—unleash such monstrous magic?
He'd heard mages were bound by their mana. Use up the fixed total of that energy, and excruciating exhaustion followed, like depletion itself. Did he have enough mana to fell all the North's knights? Then wars would end with just a handful of mages.
Torun realized how far that strayed from common sense.
"Bodyguard."
"Ridiculous. Even that monster from the Plache family wasn't on your level."
He meant the mage at the pinnacle of current high society. Kalen tilted his head quizzically.
"Don't want to believe it? Think what you like."
"..."
He had no desire to explain to Torun bit by bit. Mingling words with trash like this was unpleasant enough from the start.
"...What did she promise you?"
Torun's closed eyes cracked open. Grinding his teeth, he glared ahead and asked. What had been promised? He meant the dealings between Kalen and Selasier. What could she have offered to make someone of Kalen's caliber aid her?
"A woman whose head's filled only with how to turn things to her gain—what could she have given you to make you help her like that?"
The venomous words he spat would have deeply wounded Selasier had she heard them. With people like this around her, her heart had withered and twisted.
"You'll discard her once you're done using her. My father—no, the family head—still backs me. Come to my side instead. Whatever she promised, I can give you more."
Force wouldn't work, so temptation now. Kalen let it pass over him impassively, thinking.
Some people were like that. Unable to accept defeat, they sought reasons elsewhere. To Torun, this loss seemed to stem from Kalen himself.
He hated conversing, but leaving him be would mean endless prattle.
"I agreed to help restore the Dranus family."
"...That's it?"
Torun echoed in disbelief. Not mountains of gold or silver, not even a promise of a high post using the Hiatt name.
He even suspected Kalen of lying. No—better yet. Deal with this boy, and it was done. If that was the promise, lure him with something greater.
None of those who had "sworn loyalty" to Selasier had refused when tempted. This boy wouldn't be different.
"I could do that even if I become family head. I'll give you enough wealth for life, and a fine position once you're of age!"
Opportunity gleamed. Torun's despairing eyes sparkled as he thrashed wildly.
Expecting a positive reply—
"No thanks."
The boy's face showed no ripple. He merely closed his eyes, as if annoyed.
"Th-think it over! You're young, you don't know—chances like this don't come twice...!"
"Can you make it never happened?"
Torun forgot his excitement and shot back.
"What?"
Kalen's follow-up was so absurd.
"The women you captured and sold into slavery. Can you make that never happened?"
How did he know? The question died unspoken. He could guess. Selasier. That tenacious bitch who uncovered his secret business—suspected even by her father—over a mere missing maid.
She must have told him. He'd even helped her discover it back then, to unsettle her mind. Now it backfired spectacularly.
"N-no..."
He had to think. Become family head, and all would be his. The illegal slave trade. The plan to swallow the Empire later.
He couldn't die here pointlessly. After racking his brains, one fact emerged—like a lifeline from the heavens.
"Th-that maid!"
His frantic shriek was so shrill, Kalen couldn't help frowning.
"I haven't sold that maid yet! I-I kept her locked in the basement warehouse... thinking she might help persuade my... er, sister later!"
"She said she'd been sold into slavery."
"No! It was a fabrication—to break her spirit mentally!"
Was this lifeline a saving hand from above? Kalen let out a hollow chuckle, opening his eyes.
"Nice. Can you do one more thing for me?"
Of course he'd bite after this. Torun forced a strained smile from tension and replied swiftly.
"Anything. Just say it."
But wishes rarely came true. He'd looked up too high, unaware the rope was rotten. At Kalen's next words, Torun froze solid.
"What you did to the young lady."
The boy's face remained icy.
"Can you make that never happened?"
Unable to answer. Time couldn't be rewound, after all. Not even a Grand Archmage could manage that.
Realizing he'd been toyed with, the trash young master shrieked in hysteria.
It was exactly as expected—no deviation. Kalen almost found it amusing.
"Figured you couldn't. That's not for you to decide anyway—it's up to the young lady."
"How dare you humiliate me!"
"Must be because you're stupid. Thanks for the info on the maid, though."
"You... filthy lowborn...! Gahk!"
Even as magic struck his nape and he blacked out, his words veered not an inch from prediction. Kalen was tiring of this farce anyway.
Suppressing the urge to visit his old gambling den, he meant to catch some shut-eye—
"...Kalen."
The tent flap lifted with a rustle, and Selasier entered in lighter attire, though she seemed half-asleep.
She usually wore protective, uncomfortable garb even without armor. This flowing outfit was new.
It reflected her changing heart. Once gripped by anxiety, now with something to lean on, her ease showed in her bearing.
"Ah, young lady. Why aren't you sleeping?"
"I... couldn't sleep alone..."
Hadn't she said earlier she'd rather be left alone due to unease? As Kalen recalled, her soft voice rang again.
"...Why?"
At the sudden question, he looked at her. Her clenched fists trembled. Head slightly bowed, her face was hidden.
"Pardon?"
Unsure what she meant, Kalen asked back.
"Why do you trust me so much?"
Moisture crept into her gentle voice. She'd believed faith was an illusion spouted by dreamers. A bodyguard without strings attached? Impossible.
The knights once on her side, those now clinging to her—all for calculated reasons. Makbel's spying for Torun too.
Even betrayed first, she'd tried using others. She hadn't told Kalen the real reason for bringing him—distrust. She'd planned to use and discard him at first.
Not long together. Just a transaction of interests.
Why did this boy trust her so?
She'd deliberately not asked. Even if it was self-delusion, she'd wanted to believe it true.
But overhearing Torun and Kalen's exchange shattered her restraint. She had to ask. Why trust her like this?
Even if it proved mere delusion, no regrets. He who never betrayed her absence, protected her.
—What you did to the young lady.
She wanted to know.
—Can you make it never happened?
The first and last confrontation.
—Figured you couldn't. That's not for you to decide—it's up to the young lady.
That final scrap of mercy.
Selasier lifted her head firmly and approached Kalen. He watched calmly, pondered briefly, then—
"Well."
—smiled faintly, mimicking her speech.
"I just wanted to."
Pure faith. Favor without price. What she'd sealed away, denied by the world—
bloomed beautifully again from one boy.
"Young lady!!"
"Fina..."
Fina, the maid thought sold into slavery, was—as Torun claimed—imprisoned in the basement warehouse.
"Th-thank you..."
"Thank you for saving us..."
Not just Fina; several women from vanished villages were there too. The firstborn son of a grand duke dabbling in illegal slavery—the fallout seemed immense.
In any case, freed by Kalen, they bowed repeatedly in thanks before heading home.
If this were a play, it would surely be called a happy ending by the crowd.
Kalen thought so, soothing the women as they clasped his hands in gratitude.
Of course, Selasier's true happy ending had one step left: fulfilling their promise, after dealing with the family head.
With that step pending, a brief respite couldn't hurt.
Especially telling it to her, slumped and clutching Fina tightly.