Aila Pavria 1
"Please wait just a moment. I'll bring some clothes for you to change into right away."
One of the butlers said this and closed the door. Licht surveyed the room he'd been shown into.
The reception room of the Barbalte manor's main house. A place for entertaining esteemed guests. Its opulence was extreme—luxurious to the point of discomfort for Licht.
I've never once set foot in here.
It made sense. The family's disgrace. They wouldn't want to parade him before a true VIP in such a reception room. The fact that his room had been tucked in the farthest corner of the main house until just recently said it all.
Has my treatment changed this much in a single day?
A chuckle escaped him unbidden. It was because his past self felt so utterly foolish now. The Barbalte family was a martial house. Strength was power. The lavish reception he, the bastard they'd scorned, was receiving now proved it.
Licht glanced around and sat on the central sofa. Even brushing his finger over it revealed the fabric's extraordinary quality.
The head butler.
Word would have reached him by now. With the family head's orders issued, there wouldn't be any petty harassment. No matter the protection from that woman, it couldn't override Abel's word.
What face was the man making now, after scorning him—half a Barbalte though he was?
Not worth my attention.
Licht slowly closed his eyes. His sharp awareness sank into stillness, like sediment settling. The mana circles that had spun like wildfire had already calmed.
One month remained. Evan's current level lingered at the edge of Sword User. Over five years without breaking into Sword Expert. A massive wall. The gap between Sword User and Sword Expert was vast.
Plenty of time.
To match a seasoned Sword Expert knight, he needed at least three linked circles. A month was more than enough. As planned, he'd win handily. Even if they pulled some underhanded trick.
The second circle. Link it here?
Licht probed his body internally but soon dismissed the thought. Someone was approaching the reception room from afar. A faint presence, but it couldn't evade his senses.
No rush.
He could do it back at the annex at his leisure. His submerged awareness slowly resurfaced.
Just then, the door opened cautiously, and the butler who'd left returned. Licht lifted his eyelids and turned his head.
"Young master. As I mentioned, I've brought clothes for you to change into."
"We'll assist you with changing, young master."
He wasn't alone. Two maids clung to him like attendants, each cradling fine garments in their arms—presumably for Licht.
They saw it.
The maids' bodies trembled slightly. Their reaction was too strong for mere rumors from other servants. They'd likely witnessed Licht slicing through the knights' swords in one stroke upon entering the main house. With only Sebrik and Lena among the servants friendly to him, they might fear reprisals.
Licht said curtly, "No need. Leave."
"...Young master?"
"The head butler's idea? Or your own, Hern?"
Suddenly called by name, Hern froze. Hern Pavel. The butler who'd relayed the head butler's messages during Licht's time residing in the main house. He'd had more contact with him than anyone save Sebrik and Lena.
Knowing the head butler was behind him, his attitude toward this "young master" had been utterly deplorable. Yet now he fidgeted like a dog desperate to relieve itself. Somehow, it was amusing.
Licht looked at the two maids and said, "Leave the clothes here. I'll change alone. Go."
"But... Ah, understood."
They flinched at Hern's glance but obeyed, neatly placing the garments on the table before Licht and leaving the room. Only possible now that positions had reversed. Hern clenched his fists in humiliated silence, lips pressed tight.
"Those who lorded over people with their status... changing their tune overnight like ghosts. Leeches, aren't they?"
"......"
"The head butler's pulling strings. Even if it was your idea, same difference. We're done. Out."
"The head butler had a message."
"A message?"
Licht, changing out of his bloodied clothes, paused to ask. Hern replied with a strained expression.
"He understands your intent, young master, and asks that you return to the annex."
"Anything else?"
"No."
"Not my intent. Her orders."
That woman. Hern's eyes shook violently at the words. Casually insulting the family's true power and lady of the house. Unthinkable from this young master, who hadn't dared lift his head before even a mere butler like him.
Possessed by a ghost?
Licht finished changing and rose slowly. Before exiting, he spoke to Hern's rigid back.
"Tell him this: Pull any more petty tricks, and his head might roll."
"......"
"Oh, one more thing. Is anyone in the study now?"
"...Not that I know of."
"Good enough."
With that, Licht left without hesitation. Hern stood frozen for a long while.
***
The vast study soared high. Entering was easy. The guarding knight paled at Licht's face and stepped aside.
A rush of unfamiliar book scent. As Hern said, no one was there.
Twenty years?
The enormous study, occupying one wing of the mansion without separate floors, matched his faded memories. As a child, he'd frequented it with his mother Lily. That was twenty years ago. After her death, he'd stopped coming.
No particular reason. The bookish smell that hit upon opening the door kept reminding him of her.
Not anymore.
Facing the past no longer frightened him. Every memory from birth to age seven was an irreplaceable treasure.
Thinking this, Licht strode through without pause and stopped before a bookshelf.
Continental histories. Myths of the primordial era. For a martial house, the Barbalte library rivaled any major one, stocked with most books Licht could want.
He pulled out several on continental history.
Haide von Luenheim.
Skimming minutiae, he sought details on the Orkin Empire's Luenheim dynasty. But it was mostly things he already knew—nothing special.
What is she doing now?
The Orkin Empire had single-handedly crushed the federation of kingdoms and neighboring states. Emperor Haide ascended five years ago in his timeline—five years from now here.
She'd be seventh in imperial succession, the third princess.
Her brother gave up the throne for her.
The man titled Holy Sword, the empire's greatest swordsman before Licht's death. Orkin's firstborn, he could have claimed the throne but yielded succession rights to become his sister Haide's guardian.
His role was pivotal in her outshining rivals to claim emperorship. Incomprehensible to Licht.
Wait.
His page-turning quickened.
Time reversal?
Golden aura and mana, hallmarks of Luenheim direct descendants. Licht recalled the golden gem that shattered in his hand post-regression. The faint mana within.
It was unmistakably...
No. No way.
Overthinking. Licht cooled his head and closed the book. Absurd, even to him. Why would she revive him, the man who'd slain her brother and Orkin's seven swords?
—Now I see why my sister was so obsessed with you.
"Nonsense."
He shoved the scattered books back onto the shelf. Wandering the study anew, he soon found what he'd half-hoped for.
A primer on circle magic basics.
Didn't expect it to really be here.
No harm in learning. Using mana as aura substitute wasn't efficient. Only his talent and eight circles made it overwhelming.
The man was right. Clinging to sword over magic was mere stubbornness. He'd wanted to prove himself to the family that discarded him with the blade. A lifetime fixated on it.
Time to change.
Licht opened the book. Musty pages turned with a whiff of age. He read fast—speed-reading, yet it etched perfectly in his mind.
The foundational text all mage tower wizards learned first.
This is a year's worth?
Were mage tower wizards all dimwits? He finished in hours. No need for comprehension. Instinctual knowledge.
The heaven-defying talent the man mentioned.
Licht extended his right hand. Mana rippled like waves in his palm. The air warped above it, dense invisible mana coalescing.
One thing needed: the caster's will and imagery.
1st Circle common magic.
"Ignite."
Whoosh!
Scarlet flames bloomed. The most basic common spell. The flicker steadied, surged fiercely, then bleached his entire hand white.
Attribute conversion. Beyond mere casting, it reflected his intent. The proof: pristine white flames dancing in his palm.
A common spell, yet near-unique. Licht dispersed the mana, extinguishing the fire, and tilted his head unconsciously.
Too easy, beyond expectations.
The essence is the same.
Ultimately, wielding mana as aura substitute or spell was identical.
After brief thought, Licht shelved the book. Dusk had fallen; crimson sunset filtered through the stacks.
He quietly left the silent study. Destination: the annex, as always.
***
The path back was sparsely peopled. Sunset neared. Still, whispers trailed leisurely-walking Licht.
Familiar.
Milder than the earlier commotion—almost serene. After some distance, he veered into a secluded corner. As presences faded and foliage thickened, the annex came into view.
Sebrik and Lena fidgeted at the gate, awaiting him. Or not.
Aila Pavria?
An uninvited guest.
"Ah, you're a bit late, Young Master Licht. I've been waiting..."
Her faint smile and snow-white hair caught the sunset, shimmering roseate at a glance. A sight to stir any man's heart. Licht remained impassive.
What a nuisance.
He meant it sincerely. Normally, he'd enter the annex, dine with Sebrik and Lena, and sleep early for dawn training.
The earlier magic still sparked endless inspiration in his mind. Mild excitement. From tomorrow, he'd blend swordsmanship with magic.
Thus, Aila's intrusion grated. Like a blemish marring his routine.
"Young master?"
His mood showed; her voice turned awkward.
"If I may ask, what brings you to this humble annex?"
"Ah, well."
She glanced at Sebrik and Lena.
"Curiosity. Wanted to see your face."
"So you waited?"
"Yes."
"Since when?"
"Um... three hours ago?"
Three hours. In this remote spot. Explained Sebrik and Lena's anxiety.
Licht's face twisted visibly. No hiding it—he wanted her to see.
Yet she kept smiling.
"Did I overstep?"
Licht looked up. Blood-red sky. Sunset in thirty minutes, tops. The trek from main house was long; even brisk walking might cut it close.
"It's late. Best head back."
"I waited three hours."
"Leave now, and you won't be late. Sun's setting soon."
"Can't I just stay over? I hear only you three live here. Any empty room's fine. I don't mind."
Insane woman.
Licht swallowed the near-slip. Irritation swelled to anger. He held back only because she was Pavria house's lady and family guest.
Exhaling, he said, "You mentioned rumors travel far... Spot on. Even here, word of Barbalte's heir's fiancée lingering in a dump like this would stir trouble."
"It's just a political marriage anyway."
"People won't see it that way. Especially meeting a stranger like me late at night."
"It's fine, really. Thanks for worrying, but..."
"Aila Pavria."
Her eyes met his squarely. Licht unleashed his restraint.
"Get out. Now. I don't want to waste another word on you."
Ice-cold tone. Blunt words no noble lady would hear in her life. Sebrik and Lena, watching anxiously, froze.
A beat later, her face went blank.