Festival Eve (1)
Festival preparations had begun. The official reason was that Noir Gibraltar had earned the qualifications of a knight by learning to infuse mana into his sword. Setting everything else aside for the moment, if we were only talking about the external impression...
"Master. How common is it for someone to become a knight at ten years old?"
"About one in ten thousand."
While sparring with Lady Mente, I reviewed the common knowledge and perceptions she held.
"Then when do people usually become Beginner Knights?"
"It's considered a success if they manage it by twenty."
"What about academy students?"
"Most are still at the apprentice level. Assuming three hundred per year, maybe four percent actually qualify as knights."
And those three hundred were already a 'filtered' elite—nobles who could enter the academy or wealthy commoners.
"Becoming a knight isn't just about swinging a sword and improving your technique, right?"
"At least not in the kingdom."
If you factored in the average commoners struggling with farming and taxes, how many could even infuse mana into a sword to qualify as knights?
"Want to see something?"
Lady Mente stepped back dramatically, gripping her wooden sword with one hand.
"Every knight's weapon and method of infusing mana is different. This is the part that's truly unique to each individual."
She extended her index and middle fingers along the hilt, then pulled the sword back.
"This is how I do it."
Kagagang.
A sound like a blacksmith sharpening a blade rang in my ears.
"Hoo..."
Mana gathered at her fingertips seeped into the sword, and a jade-green mist of her signature mana cloaked the wooden blade.
"How about you?"
"Like this for me."
This time, I thrust my sword forward.
"I don't pull the sword back. I keep it steady and move my hand instead."
I lightly swept my hand over the near-horizontal blade, scattering mana all the way to the tip.
"Won't work for you, Master. Your arms are too short."
"...And you're not exactly limited to wooden swords yourself."
"I'll grow more, so I'm fine."
Cheeky brat. Lady Mente shot me a glare that said exactly that.
"Just you wait. Once I grow, I'll change my method and show you properly."
"How about doing it like Sir Robert?"
"That's for talentless brutes."
Lady Mente withdrew the mana from her sword and gripped it with both hands.
"Just blasting a ton of mana from the hilt into the blade? What do they think a sword is? Forcing it in like that?"
"......."
"What? Spit it out if you have something to say."
"No, just... nothing."
It reminded me of something she'd said in the future. When she was one of the Eight Divine Generals.
Though hers was a bit more explicit back then.
Men treat their swords like women, so rather than crudely shoving their mana in from below... or something to that effect.
Either way. No matter the method.
A knight's qualification ultimately came down to infusing mana into a weapon. The amount of mana, duration of maintenance, and whether it could manifest as a solid aura blade divided knights from Beginner to Advanced, and even up to Master.
"I want to get stronger faster, but I'm still a long way off."
"Why? Jealous because your little brother became a Beginner Knight? Worried he'll surpass his big brother like everyone says?"
"External perceptions don't bother me. Even if Noir gets stronger faster, I couldn't care less."
"Hmm..."
Lady Mente grinned slyly, like she understood something.
"Well, yeah. No guy wants to be weaker than the girl he likes."
"Hah, what nonsense is that?"
It really was utter nonsense.
"A man wanting to get stronger just because he's weaker than the woman he likes? That's nothing but a skewed view born from patriarchal societal prejudices and traditional gender roles."
"Whoa, I've never heard you talk that fast before. Touch a nerve?"
"Who said anything about being bothered? Do you seriously think my drive to grow stronger is because I like a girl who's stronger than me?"
"Heh."
Lady Mente chuckled lowly and swung her wooden sword in a wide arc.
"Just saying~"
"......."
"Still, you should aim for Intermediate Knight soon. Heh heh!"
"Someone your age shouldn't laugh like that... Ahem. Sorry."
Her wooden sword flew off sideways and embedded in the wall. I pulled it out and hung it properly.
"I do want to get stronger faster, though. That's true."
"Sure, sure. Better for the young master to escort his favorite girl at the festival than the other way around."
"......."
"But honestly, doesn't all that talk mean nothing in the end?"
Lady Mente pointed at me, laughing.
"Everyone sees Grey Gibraltar, the young master who's talented in swordsmanship but gets outdone by his little brother."
"......."
"The kid who resents his brother for it. That's the territory folk's view right now."
"Yes, exactly. I'm the Gibraltar who can't even infuse mana into a sword—a failure who hasn't reached Beginner Knight."
I raised my hands in surrender.
"So you'll have to protect me, Master."
"...Hold on. I'm on vacation. Get Robert."
"Don't forget that escorting me is part of your duties, Lady Mente."
"Listen, young master. You'll have Javier and Ellie tagging along anyway!"
"Ha."
What nonsense.
"Anyone hearing that would think those two are strong enough to escort me."
"What?"
"Javier's certainly skilled with a musket, but she's a delicate girl."
"Delicate...?"
Lady Mente let out a hollow laugh.
"And Ellie goes without saying."
"Listen up, young master Gibraltar."
"Ellie's a weak girl. One I need to protect."
"You've got Gibraltar blinders on."
"...I've never heard that expression in my life."
Not before regression, nor now.
"Fine, fine. If the young master wants to parade around the festival with two maids on his arms, who am I to stop you? I'll help."
"If you're just eager to enjoy the festival yourself..."
"Hey."
Lady Mente strode right up to me.
"Me."
Thwack.
"In a maid outfit or knight's uniform."
She tilted her head back and headbutted my chest.
"Trailing behind you three—what do you think people will see me as?"
"...Lady Mente?"
"They'd think exactly that."
She placed her hand horizontally on her head, then chopped at me with the edge of her palm.
"Like this?"
It stung my solar plexus a bit.
"I'm not exactly famous around the territory—"
"Then make a name for yourself this time."
Before her palm could strike again, I grabbed her shoulder and pushed her back.
"I believe you'll win the knight order ranking tournament, Lady Mente."
"What about my escort duties?"
"It's fine."
Because.
"Even at a festival, I won't wander into dangerous places without protection."
Accidents from strolling without guards simply wouldn't happen to me.
"Not using the margrave again...?"
"I'm not planning to exploit Father."
To be serious.
"My life is far too precious for childish antics like that."
I'm not some Noir.
People judge others based on appearances. Just as they mistake Lady Mente for a child from her looks alone.
Judging humans involves more than looks—age, status, social position, and countless other factors shape perceptions, turning background knowledge into benchmarks for character.
But can you truly know their inner self?
Not at all.
Just as a pretty fruit might hide worms inside—only cutting it open reveals the truth. You can't judge people rashly by surface alone.
Everyone knows that, but.
"You're Grey Gibraltar?"
This man didn't seem to care.
"Heard you got outdone by your little brother. Heh heh. Reduced to greeting guests."
Did this crabby-looking middle-aged man realize?
How should I kill him?
That I was pondering the safest way to eliminate him without harming Gibraltar.
"Greetings, Sir Arshen."
"Gillarus."
"......."
"Hah. You don't even know that? I'm Baron Gillarus."
The insolent brown-haired man in mage robes, head held high—Arshen Gillarus.
"My apologies. Viscount Hex's letter only listed your name."
"Heh, Hex...? You—you—! How dare you address the External Minister so casually!"
"I'm more familiar with 'Viscount Hex' than 'Viscount Romana'."
"Insolent...!"
Classic weak-to-strong, strong-to-weak type—grovelling to the powerful.
Queen Carmen was right about this one.
Carmen, being so high up, paid little attention to those beneath her.
She doesn't know how these types treat anyone they deem weaker.
Not her fault.
"Don't misunderstand. I didn't come here for that paltry five million gold!"
Even so, he was the 'best' pick—the kingdom's mages weren't exactly paragons of virtue.
"Take me to the Gibraltar margrave at once!"
"This way."
I led ahead of Sir Arshen toward the reception room.
Muttering behind me was blatant, but—
I've got a vindictive streak myself.
I bottled it up, weighing life or death with each step.
Mages are valuable talent, no doubt.
Just as physical mana-infusion specialists—knights—are revered, mages who push magic to extremes despite lacking physical prowess are equally honored in the kingdom.
The kingdom's survived this long thanks to them.
Master isn't limited to swordsmen or knights.
If the pinnacle of swordsmanship is Sword Master, then magic's pinnacle is Archmage.
But there are none now.
The kingdom has no Archmage. The court archmage, the finest Advanced mage, will die without reaching it.
Maybe because the dragon's blessing left.
Coincidence, probably.
After Saint Geo Nostrum smashed a dragon egg and fried it up.
The last dragon in the kingdom spread its five-meter wings and vanished.
No one has achieved magical greatness since—like the age of magic ended, the empire conquered, and humanity's path led to magitech without blessings.
The empire's desperation to surpass Nostrum's mages feels pointless now.
While the kingdom teleported via spells, the empire built railroads and roads to cut travel time.
While the kingdom swung staves for Meteor Strike, the empire refined alchemical magitech explosives.
While the kingdom rained magic in droughts, the empire built dams, reservoirs, and canals.
While the kingdom healed severed limbs instantly, the empire stitched wounds, applied salves, and fitted prosthetics.
What a filthy nation, blindly clinging to blessings and miracles.
With blessings gone.
Miracles ceased.
The moment dragon-bestowed magic is overtaken by human magitech.
That's when the empire truly surpasses the kingdom.
It already feels that way.
In places the kingdom can't see.
While the kingdom tames drakes and griffins with magic, the empire develops equivalent air forces to counter wyvern knights—
Ah.
Come to think of it.
"Sir Gillarus."
"Wh-what now?"
This man.
I remembered.
"If you have time later, could you inspect the state of the gates in the canyon?"
"C-canyon?"
"Yes. Actually, I have some advice I'd like on the elevators."
"...Hah! Well, can't be helped. I'll share my brilliant knowledge."
Traitor who leaked tech to the empire. Infamous inventor.
One of the developers behind the empire's force that crushed the kingdom's wyvern knights—
Wind Stone.