Only for You (1)
Feigning incompetence. It's no easy task.
I'd never bothered comparing my life to others', nor did I have any particular ambitions, so I simply lived as directed without realizing it. But me—Grey Gibraltar—I was, surprisingly, fairly capable.
I couldn't beat my father with the sword. I couldn't outdo Governor Carmen in administration. I couldn't surpass Saint Geo in extravagance and debauchery. Outdoing Noir in promiscuity... well, no need or desire there. I couldn't match the princess of a doomed nation in resolve or action. And taken all together, I couldn't defeat the emperor of the Empire.
With so many people around me superior in every respect, I'd never given much thought to my own abilities. But after seven years—regressing to age ten and struggling to accomplish something, anything—I realized I wasn't hopeless.
Even if I can't be the dragon's tail, I can at least lead the wyverns that follow.
I wasn't talentless or utterly incompetent. From certain perspectives, I might even seem highly capable to some.
That must be why the princess of the doomed nation got so worked up.
The princess of the doomed nation, Naria, had acknowledged my abilities multiple times during our academy days. Her recurring phrase was always, "With abilities like yours..."
The rest varied, but looking back, it probably boiled down to this:
"Why not use them for Nostrum?"
From her standpoint as princess, it made perfect sense. To me, it was absurd.
The same holds true in this life.
Regression or no, I had no intention of living for Nostrum. But if the princess had spotted my potential time and again, as I'd expected—and if she'd wielded her transcendent authority and power on my behalf for that potential—then this debt of gratitude demanded repayment. Not for Nostrum, at least, but for the girl she'd been before becoming the princess of a doomed nation.
So I pondered: how to repay that favor while achieving my own goals?
People.
The knowledge of the future. The regressor's insight to distinguish the capable from the incompetent. And the experience gained as a traitorous margrave, dealing with countless individuals.
Leveraging that knowledge and experience, I planned to brand them all with a single mark.
Using the funds I'd scraped together over seven years—embezzling budgets, exploiting orphanage children for production, even selling my father's likeness.
I could see them. The three hundred freshmen in this grand hall, the Hall of the Sun. And above, in the second-floor galleries, hundreds of spectators.
Among them: resistance revolutionaries I'd shot dead with a musket; traitorous nobles with whom I'd shared feasts laced with silver dust; imperial spies—and...
"...and so, I hope the kingdom and empire continue to harmonize, eventually living as one family in peaceful unity."
The heart of the Empire. The man I must kill.
"Hapsburg von Tersian. I swear it here: as crown prince, I desire a peaceful alliance between kingdom and empire. Sincerely."
Hapsburg von Tersian stood before me.
"That concludes my remarks."
Silence.
Not a soul reacted, though the crown prince of an empire had spoken as guest of honor. They all watched each other warily. True Nostrum loyalists kept hands down; others lifted theirs for propriety—acknowledging the prince's plea for peace—then lowered them; half-turned imperial spies clapped tentatively, fearing accusations of imperialism.
Clap, clap, clap.
The silence shattered with applause. Mine, naturally.
Clap clap clap clap clap.
As I clapped, others joined in hesitantly. The sound was softer than for the chancellor or queen's speeches, but with applause ended, the ceremony could proceed.
"...Next, remarks from the Canyon Foundation Chairman, Grey Gibraltar."
The crown prince stepped back to his seat, his expressionless face fixed on me. I gripped my cane and advanced.
—What's with the limp? Leg injury?
—Never heard he was hurt. Pushed out as heir because of that?
—A defect... Well, for Gibraltar stock, as long as it doesn't affect breeding, one leg's fine.
Murmurs reached me before I even grasped the amplification magitech microphone on the podium. They whispered, but I was sensitive to malice—I heard everything.
I wish she hadn't heard.
One voice from the outer seats I desperately hoped to ignore, but unfortunately, she had sharp ears too.
Pffft—
"Ha."
Her puffed cheeks and sulky pout right in front of me drew an involuntary laugh.
"Greetings, everyone."
Noir paled and trembled behind me, but I opened with casual warmth.
"I've come in my father's stead."
Imprinting on all why Grey Gibraltar stood here.
"Crimson Gibraltar Margrave left me a message."
From the inner pocket of my red coat—evoking Father—I drew a letter.
"The margrave said:"
Even as I spoke, faint whispers drifted:
—Chairman, right? So he manages the entire scholarship board?
—Makes his brother guard the canyon while he plays butler.
—Shame. Such a handsome face. If not Gibraltar... tch. Tempted to toy with him.
Proxy for Crimson Gibraltar. A position Father created for his injured eldest son. In truth, a Gibraltar-sent butler to support the freshman heir.
"In this place of learning, reward the capable."
I paused, carefully refolding the letter into my pocket.
"The margrave instructed not to stint financial aid for those who demonstrate talent here, to aid their studies."
Father wasn't verbose, so they nodded acceptingly as I pocketed it. A margrave would say that—even though he'd never written it.
"Criteria for the [Canyon Scholarship] will be announced later. Dedicate yourselves to study, act diligently and within rules, and enjoy academy life."
Scholarships had varied criteria and types, but...
"May the Golden Dawn shine on your academy days."
This was the brand. My brand.
How many will earn the 'prospective traitor' mark?
White for loyal fools. Gray for future traitors. Black for scum to kill.
White for Naria. Black for the crown prince. Grays I'll sort later.
Students would rejoice at scholarships, oblivious to my secret marks on their records.
They'll think heroes' seeds; really, tumors like the incompetent king.
Recruiting them as talent, but they'd become the Empire's calamities, rotting it from within. Outwardly fine, the Empire would delight in Grey Gibraltar supplying such "talent."
The moment they reach, thinking me an ally—I'll pierce their hearts at the surest time.
Right before the crown prince, I sharpened blades aimed at him.
"That concludes my remarks."
Silence.
No one clapped. I turned with cane to return.
Clap clap clap clap clap——!!!
Fierce applause erupted, rapid—drawing all eyes.
Astasia von Tersian. From the front row, beaming radiantly, clapping wildly at me.
Clap clap clap.
And then—
Chills, for real.
Hapsburg von Tersian applauded me. His right lip curled slightly; lower lip twitched—
Good enough.
He still saw me as mere "amusing."
Pleasure to meet again, though first time.
I nodded, bowing lightly to protocol, and returned to my seat.
"........."
I ignored the piercing gaze beside me, facing forward. Meeting the crown prince's eyes meant smiling back at the fervent ones on me.
"Next, the freshman oath. Chancellor, if you please."
The ceremony continued; Noir Gibraltar pledged as freshman rep. Thus, the welcome grandly concluded.
Unified Calendar Year 97, March 1st — 2:00 PM
The ceremony ended; freshmen headed to assigned classrooms. Amid lunch with the chancellor and staff, I slipped away alone to stroll the academy.
"Look at him. Really limping, huh?"
"Yeah. Not just posing with that cane."
Some spectators who'd stayed to sightsee whispered.
"No guards. What if he bumps someone important...?"
"Still Gibraltar. Must have skills. Mana's detectable. Low... novice knight?"
"Novice? Brother's intermediate now."
"That's why he lost heirship."
People judge by appearances.
"Heard there was a fire at Gibraltar once. Leg hurt then?"
"Poor guy. Without that, he'd be proper guardian, not lose heirship."
"Nah. Heard the margrave trained Noir from age seven. Decided on heir change years ago."
"So then..."
"Ah! If no accident and legs fine, I'd be heir! Honorable death. Heh."
Society's fun like this. No rumors spread by me, yet one prop births a full scenario.
Issue: to make them believe, act per their wishes—
My leg. Truly lame.
No one noticed, but—
"Your right leg looks uncomfortable."
"......?"
A voice from behind.
"Oh dear. Strolling? Or rehab?"
"...No lunch?"
I knew the voice; chills ran down my spine.
"Crown Prince Hapsburg."
"Ho."
The crown prince approached, grinning.
"Not 'Your Imperial Highness,' but straight name? Didn't know we were that close inwardly."
"Too long for 'Tersian Crown Prince.' Call me casually too, Your Highness."
"Fine then... Hm."
He stroked his goatee, pointing at a building ahead.
"What's this building, Grey?"
"Scholarship hall."
"No fuss at casual address. Thought Gibraltars bare fangs at imperials."
"I suggested casual. This way."
I walked on leisurely—slower than a stroll. He matched pace beside me.
"How'd the leg happen?"
"Mana backlash."
He eyed my right leg intently. Coat and trousers hid it, but faint mana gleamed in his eyes.
"Sensation... Ah, got it. Mana training mishap?"
"Yes. Caroline research gone wrong."
"...Gibraltar can't fix? Regrettable."
"One lame leg doesn't make the rest lame."
I shrugged, tapping my head.
"Sword Master heir. Gibraltar margrave. Utterly incompetent for those roles."
Incompetence shines one-sided.
"I'm weak."
"......Hm."
"But still Gibraltar."
"Cane for emergencies? Swing it?"
"Weak, but can't overlook slights to Gibraltar. When facing me with force, anyway."
I tapped the cane handle lightly.
"In this building—from Charlotte Castle—I hold absolute authority."
"Ho, what kind?"
"Freely set scholarship budgets."
"......."
His smile deepened. Eyes for one falling short of expectations.
"This is the donor plaque. Names of academy benefactors."
"Hm..."
"Special plaques for top donors."
"...Ho?"
His eyes lit at gold nameplates.
"This...?"
"Crimson Gibraltar Margrave engraved with aura."
Broad gold plates, centers etched: 'Erwin Iferia', 'Carmen Morgania Nostrum', 'Winchester Morgania', 'Crimson Gibraltar'.
"Aura... on plaques."
"Yes."
Not artisan-carved, but 'continent's strongest swordsman' personally aura-blade-engraved names.
Signatures fetch high prices routinely.
"First time seeing this. Who thought of it?"
"I suggested to Father."
"......."
Lick.
He flicked his tongue, stepping toward the plaque.
"Grey. Perhaps..."
"Don't touch."
"...Think me etiquette-lacking enough to paw it?"
"Of course not. Sorry if wrong. What were you saying?"
"Ah. Nothing."
He chuckled, turning to me.
"Eaten lunch?"