To Carun
“If I've startled you, I apologize, Lady Cloi. But I hoped this would be a gift for you as well. Will you accept my sincerity?”
The crown prince knelt before Cloi, offering her the ring. It was the pinnacle of the coming-of-age ceremony.
“Wow!”
“Well, I'll be.”
“For His Highness to come in person...”
The gift from the crown prince—a ring adorned with the Tears of Ruby—was a special-grade gem unavailable even to the wealthy. Moreover, the mana shimmering within marked it as an artifact, its value beyond measure. Yet even that paled beside the shock of Crown Prince Bradley van Aslan's personal appearance.
Betrothed nobles often attended such ceremonies, but the empire's heir, immersed in imperial training? That was unprecedented.
“Then who's handling the crown prince's schedule in the capital?”
“One of the Shadows, no doubt. This is truly astonishing.”
“To go this far...”
“The imperial family and Valentia grow ever closer.”
“Is His Majesty's favor with Valentia?”
“We must shine even brighter now...”
As murmurs filled the hall and Cloi accepted the ring with a bow, Tiny tried slipping into a corner of the great hall—only to be caught by the scruff of his neck.
“Where are you off to, Tiny?”
Jenas smiled faintly as he asked. Tiny forced an awkward grin.
I didn't even sense him approaching.
It was stealthier than that baron's knight he'd fought before—no, the crown prince's guard. Likely the unconscious manifestation of a Challenger's spatial mastery through mana. No wonder the duke praised him so highly.
Of course, in this moment, it was nothing but a burden.
“...Ah, haha. Just felt stuffy and thought I'd step out for some air...”
“You're not planning to run off, are you?”
“...Ah, haha. R-run? Me? What do you take me for!”
He just figured avoiding the crown prince was best for his future. ...Really!
Jenas chuckled at Tiny sweating bullets.
“His Highness truly forgives you. The visit itself was a secret, so there's no public repercussion.”
...But that sounds like there could be private ones.
He'd slapped the crown prince across the face, after all.
Maybe just let him die next year... No, no. Don't go that far. Keep the big picture in mind.
As he shook his head, chiding himself for the dark thought, Jenas continued.
“It's truly fine, Tiny. Even if His Highness holds a grudge, he won't harm those under our protection.”
“Pardon?”
“The betrothal to Valentia was something His Highness pushed against His Majesty's wishes.”
“...What do you mean?”
“The imperial family originally favored the Roiter house. They've been steadily checking our lord since he became a superhuman.”
“Ah...”
Now it made sense. The empire prospered, but its superhuman forces were at their weakest in a century. In the future Tiny knew, the Sword Emperor had been the empire's sole Aura User until he and that 'Reaper' kid reached that level over a decade later.
A superhuman who could face armies alone was naturally a threat to those in power. A 7th Circle magic swordsman had the weakness of frail flesh, but Aura Users had none.
Jenas's eyes gleamed with amusement as Tiny nodded in understanding.
“Hm, you grasped it from that alone? We'd heard you were no ordinary boy, but indeed...”
Damn, did I overplay it?
The brown eyes scanning him felt burdensome now, but the next words piqued his interest.
“No wonder our lord entrusts you with heavy responsibility.”
...Heavy responsibility?
“I have no intention of joining House Valentia, though?”
Jenas just grinned and shook his head.
“Wait quietly for the ceremony to end, Tiny. His Highness is a busy man and will return to the capital at once. Then our lord will summon you separately.”
Jenas's words became reality soon enough.
— The crown prince has returned.
Right after Cloi's ceremony, which had dominated all talk, under the night sky where the sun had long set, the crown prince summoned a hundred knights from who-knows-where and vanished through Valentia's east gate.
Just before, the words he'd left with Cloi spread like wildfire through noble mouths.
— I couldn't bear the wait any longer, my lady. I pushed myself a bit. I count the days until next year, when we shall be together forever.
As Valentia's inner castle buzzed with the tale under the veil of darkness, Tiny received the duke's summons.
* * *
“That spirit was a great help. It seems to have eased Cloi's nerves. Looked splendid, too.”
The duke's face beamed with smiles—clearly, things had gone well. Of course, the real key event was next year.
“No need to thank me. But why summon me now?”
“Leaving tomorrow, right?”
“Yes. I already have the recommendation letter. No need to delay further.”
“Indeed. But take this first.”
The duke tossed him a silver badge with casual indifference.
“What's this?”
It bore House Valentia's eagle emblem, but painted entirely black, resembling a crow.
“I can't intervene directly in Carun's crisis, but I can't just stand by either. I've already concentrated our hidden family forces there, unknown to the public. That badge proves you're their leader—don't lose it.”
A house like Valentia's would have secret forces, sure. But Tiny had one question.
“...It's not called Blackwing, by any chance?”
The duke's confident smile cracked slightly.
“...Why? Is it... strange?”
“No, it's... consistent. Nice.”
Despite his words, Tiny snickered. The duke's cheeks flushed as he narrowed his eyes.
“Tch.”
But contrary to Tiny's expectations of irritation, the duke quelled it with a short grunt.
“Blackwing's strongest are merely Blader-grade. But they have intel on Carun's royals and connections. Even if things go awry, they'll get you into the royal court.”
“...A contingency for variables, then. Including funds.”
“Exactly. Financial aid included.”
“I'll accept gratefully. But... this doesn't make me part of the duke's house, right?”
Prodding once more, the duke finally erupted.
“You insolent brat! Just accept kindness as kindness!”
“Anti-violence! Just a joke, a joke... Ack! Real talk! My cheeks, my cheeks!”
After a brief scuffle, Tiny rubbed his reddened cheeks and glared at the duke.
“Want more?”
“...No.”
What a temper.
His personality must've changed drastically in those twenty years. Damn.
Something like what happened to Jenas and the duke's sons might've softened the Sword Emperor's disposition. The suspicion grew.
“Their forces are weak, which bothers me, but it's the best I can do now. I'd love to send Jenas, Garen, or Drexler, but that could spark diplomatic issues...”
“I understand.”
In truth, a group including Blader-grade experts wasn't weak by any stretch. Tiny, who could rival Superiors as an Expert, was the outlier. Bladers—4th-stage mana users—were renowned even in kingdoms.
But what they faced were future calamities threatening all humanity. Before those, Bladers were merely “adequate.”
“Preventing the relic's loss is priority one. And that kraken sighting nags at me—investigate it too.”
“The timing is too coincidental.”
“If your suspicions hold, someone lured the deep-sea monster to Ortus. Blackwing aiding you is secondary; they'll track demon worshippers showing signs first. Or rather, they're already on it.”
“...Progressing smoothly, then.”
But the duke's expression soured at Tiny's words.
“I wonder.”
“Pardon?”
“If demon worshippers can fool even a saintess's senses, like that black mage you and Cloi saw, we're in trouble.”
“Ah...”
“Well, you'll handle that. Anyway, keep an eye on them beyond the relic.”
“Understood.”
“Good. Go rest.”
“Huh? That's it?”
“...What more do you need?”
“Nothing specific, just... give me everything you can...”
“You little shit! Think seriously!”
“J-joke! Joke! Anti-violence! Cheeks! It hurts!!”
The commotion in the duke's inner castle dragged on.
And the next day.
“Weight increase, impact boost, self-repair... All three magics tuned to your mana signature. And the long-weapon parts you ordered, separately here...”
Clink.
“Connect like this for over 2m reach, and...”
Clink.
“Detach for a short staff. Give it a swing.”
Tiny, staring blankly at the Stamp, nodded slowly at Grandal's words and lifted the warhammer from the workbench. The massive weapon, which Grandal couldn't even hold upright during assembly, settled perfectly in his grip.
Boom!
A casual swing tore the forge air with a sonic burst. Tiny smiled in satisfaction.
“Ah, you scared me! Do that outside, you punk!”
The dwarf Grandal shuddered, his white beard quivering in shock, but Tiny's face beamed as he stepped out.
Boom! Crash! Rumble!
After several swings through air and earth, Tiny grinned ferociously.
Let's try it.
Thud.
Immense weight loaded his step, propelling his body like a drawn bow, pulling the Stamp behind his back.
Thunderbolt Drop.
The warhammer rocketed forward, smashing the ground ahead.
Rumble!
Groooar.
A massive shockwave erupted. Grandal, watching, yelped and tumbled a dozen rolls backward.
“You crazy little bastard...!!!!”
Regaining his wits, he bellowed, but the profanity died at the 10m crater.
“H-huh...”
“Sorry. Just tested moderate power, but this hammer's incredible. It'll last till I grow fully.”
That's just 'adequate' to you?
What the... No, what did my son make?
Grandal had no breath to respond to the praise. The boy's display was too shocking—no knight he'd met matched that destructive power alone.
“Th-this...”
But the spectacle wasn't over.
“I'll put it to good use. Thanks for the hard work!”
As the boy turned.
Awooooo!
A massive silver wolf appeared. Grandal froze at its roar.
“I'll visit your son when I can. Farewell.”
The boy mounted the 1.5m-shouldered, 3m-long behemoth and vanished like the wind.
“A sp-spirit?!”
Grandal stared blankly, then.
“Hey, you punk! Restore the yard before you go!!”
Only much later could he scream curses at the absent boy.