Veterans Are Better - 2
The road to hell is always beautifully paved. That is why people who do not know their destination walk gladly toward hell, and even those who do know still drag their heavy feet forward, taking comfort in how pretty the path is.
"I hear Charles accepted the nomination. Of course that friend wants another match with me!"
"No, that— never mind."
Erich looked as if he meant to say something to Ryutis, who was laughing with pure delight, then shut his mouth again. Apparently he had no confidence he could beat that prince's insane value system with logic.
Instead, as if pitying Charles—who must have accepted the nomination with the heart of a man drinking poison—Erich stared at his textbook with a faintly bitter look. I was glad my little brother was a decent enough person to feel sympathy for someone else.
Sorry.
I, too, offered my condolences and apologies to Charles, who was not even here. If Erich, who was only watching, looked like that, how much worse was I, an actual accomplice? My letter of recommendation had almost certainly taken up a sizable share of the reasons Charles had agreed. In other words, I was one of the people who had paved the road to hell.
Sorry—but what else was I supposed to do? When I first heard that Ryutis had nominated Charles, I was horrified. But the more I thought about it, the clearer it became: there was no better candidate.
You don't find guys like that easily.
Simply strong students were easy enough to find. Erich alone was stronger than Charles, and even without Erich there were half a dozen more.
But accurately reading both your opponent's capacity and your own, then fighting a hospitality duel that left no one truly hurt—that was a realm beyond mere strength. That was art only he could manage. You'd need to be at least a veteran training instructor to even attempt it.
So I wrote a recommendation for Charles, still only a second-year. If a person has to suffer because of their talent, they ought at least to be guaranteed a path to success through it. That was about all I could do for him.
"If only Charles were a noble of Armein."
At Ryutis's regretful murmur, I quietly closed my eyes. Cruel bastard. If Charles had held Armein citizenship, you would have hunted him down even after graduation.
Thank heaven Charles was from the Empire.
When I first heard that Ryutis had nominated a sparring partner, I had not been particularly interested. I felt sorry for Charles, who had become the royal family's dedicated punching bag, but that was as far as it went. Unlike Ryutis, I had no intention of nominating anyone myself.
If I had known I would end up in the same position as Charles, I might have thought differently.
"Teacher."
"Ah, Luise."
I had been summoned to the faculty office by the head instructor of the Magic Department. The head instructor admired my master, so I had been called in often enough since the term began—but this was the first time I had been summoned to the faculty office rather than to their private laboratory.
And the moment I saw the mountain of paper piled on the head instructor's desk, I understood why.
"Sorry to bother you when you're busy. These are the students who nominated you as their sparring partner for this practical exam."
The head instructor spoke calmly while looking at the tower of paper. My body went rigid on its own.
All of that? All of those people nominated me...?
There are way too many.
I got chills. To exaggerate a little, it looked like the same number of sheets as there were second-year magic students—no, that wasn't even an exaggeration. It really did look like about that many.
"There are a lot of applicants, but you don't need to worry about it. A duel is only once, so you just pick one of them."
I let out a breath of relief I hadn't meant to. One-on-one duels were the natural rule, of course, but without that natural constraint I might have been stuck fighting endless matches against every second-year mage in the department.
Relief aside, a heavy feeling settled over me. Every mage nominating me as their opponent—did I look that delicious as prey? Or did someone have a grudge? Either way, it was not a situation I welcomed.
I lived a decent life...
I had not expected to become public enemy number one overnight. Had I been living a wasted life all this time...?
"Don't overthink it. They're clinging to the chance because they consider dueling you the honor of a lifetime."
Seeing my expression darken, the head instructor smiled faintly.
"Mages will throw themselves into a pit of fire for the tiniest scrap of insight. And the sole disciple of Her Grace the Magic Lord is standing right next to them—of course they won't sit still."
"I-is that so?"
"It is. A master's traces remain in the disciple. How much would it help them to experience that disciple's magic firsthand?"
They even added that they would have nominated me themselves if they were still a student, so I finally managed a nod.
I see. Not a grudge or competitive spite—they simply wanted to experience my magic with their whole bodies.
That's even more dangerous.
A different kind of chill ran through me. Ordinary human resentment would have been preferable; a mage's curiosity was far more hazardous.
I had spent enough time among Magic Department students to know. They all seemed normal most of the time, but the moment magic became involved their personalities flipped—deadly serious, recklessly aggressive. I had always heard that a mage's duty was to keep reason intact, and yet.
Who do I even pick?
That was why I was stuck. Among students whose eyes had gone blank with obsession, who could I choose without creating future trouble?
Of course they wouldn't hold a grudge for not being chosen—but the absence of a grudge made it worse. I had no sense of how they might act. They say the fear of the unknown is the worst kind, don't they?
Ah.
And that worry resolved itself almost at once.
"Charles Olid—truly an outstanding knight. I applied right away because I wanted another match with him this year!"
Ryutis's words from the club room came back to me. That stubborn persistence of carrying last year's duel all the way into this year.
Fine. I would do the same. If I had to choose someone, better someone I already knew. Yes.
This year's practical exam ran the same way as last year's. Villar and the other powerhouses of the Three Kingdoms fanned out across the grounds against any possible incident, while the principal and I personally inspected every sparring field.
And because everyone involved was a veteran, they moved without needing to be told. Whenever I passed a spot and thought, Someone should really be stationed here, I would promptly run into one of the Three Kingdoms' elites. It made me unreasonably pleased. Working with competent people really was this good.
At any rate, while touring the fields with the principal, we arrived at the place where Ryutis and Charles were fighting—
"My. Remarkable."
"Yes. An excellent student."
—and witnessed one knight's tear-inducing struggle.
Ryutis and Charles crossed blades fiercely. But look closely and Ryutis's attacks were landing on Charles with steady consistency, while Charles's attacks poured only along paths Ryutis could still block.
That said, it was hard to call it a one-sided thrashing. There were no critical hits at all—just the sort of injuries that inevitably crop up in a close contest.
How does a guy like that even exist?
I had seen it last year, and it was still astonishing this year.
Sure, deliberately losing is simple. Stick one of your limbs into the path of the other person's sword and you're done. But then your opponent can't help but notice.
Charles had pulled it off. Naturally enough that his opponent never noticed, fiercely enough that it felt like a satisfying, hard-fought match, and carefully enough that neither he nor his opponent took any serious wounds. How he managed it was nothing short of miraculous.
It should be wrapping up soon.
As wounds began to accumulate one by one, Charles's hands grew busier. To anyone watching, it would look like he was throwing a decisive move to claw out of a losing position, wouldn't it?
The reality was that Charles, who had done enough, was starting the work of collapsing at an appropriate moment. A decisive move, after all: succeed and you reverse the match; fail and it's over on the spot.
"What a shame."
"Yes. The margin was razor-thin. If it had succeeded, he would have forced it back into a deadlock."
The result was, of course, failure—failed by so fine a margin that even the principal sighed.
First-rate.
And I saw it: the smile on the fallen Charles's face was completely genuine.
To everyone else, that smile would look like the beautiful posture of a man accepting the result with grace.
...Should I put him in as an imperial martial instructor?
I was seriously considering it. Strong knights were easy to find; knights like this were not. He would be perfect as an instructor teaching the imperial family martial arts.
"Splendid again this time! I'll be counting on you next time as well!"
For once, the dreadful declaration of a certain redhead ringing out over the sparring field was almost welcome.
Three years of dueling royalty at the Academy—an expert title you would struggle to find anywhere on the continent. Having faced princes, facing imperial royalty would hardly be difficult.
I would have to discuss it with the Duke of Victory later. From his perspective, this would be someone who could teach his grandchildren.
Coincidentally, the moment Ryutis's duel ended, Erich's duel began on another field. It had been the same last year—were their student numbers just consecutive? Convenient for me as a spectator, so I didn't mind—
"That was so cool! Erich finished the fastest, right?"
—except they were so close together that the duel was already over before I even reached the field. As Sera said, clinging to Erich's side, it was probably a record for shortest match ever.
"I got lucky. Normally it would have taken longer."
Erich gave a small smile to the sparkling-eyed Sera. But his expression was faintly stiff, as if something was bothering him.
What is it?
My head tilted on its own. What was wrong with him? Not just an ordinary win—a record-speed victory, a perfect victory without a single scratch. There was no better set of conditions for a win than that.
...Well, no need to overthink it. He might be fretting over something other than the duel.
Sera is so happy that I am smiling as much as I can, but I do not feel particularly good.
All through winter break I buried myself in training on the estate. I made decent progress, and I came into the Academy confident I could beat anyone who wasn't Ryutis.
I meant to finish within five exchanges.
It took seven.
Should I have sacrificed the shoulder?
There had been a way to end it within five exchanges, truth be told. If I had closed in ready to take a wound, it would have been over immediately.
It seems I avoid injury on instinct. I will have to train that out of myself as well.