The Curse of Knowing Too Much
In front of the audience chamber in the imperial palace, Ian bore no trace of the demeanor he had shown in the Dwarf Kingdom. He looked exactly as he had when he was reluctantly dragged there because of his former party—irritated and thoroughly annoyed. His original plan had been to return to Wintergard, resume his duties, and then revise and expand his strategies. That is, if Duke Kane had not mentioned that the Emperor was looking for him the moment he emerged onto the surface with the drake head as a trophy.
He had wanted to guess at the reason before arriving, but the Duke’s subtly strange expression made it impossible to predict why he had been summoned.
“His Majesty has granted you an audience.”
A place that should have been lined with countless nobles. Yet, like Kane, Ian was to meet the Emperor in private. Still, he offered neither a bow nor a kneel, performing none of the expected courtesies.
“This is the first time I’ve seen you in person.”
“I greet Your Imperial Majesty.”
There was no reverence in his gaze—only the look one might give a friend’s father upon first meeting. Had the man not been exactly that, Ian’s mood would likely have been far worse.
“Don’t sharpen your edge too much. I may not mind, but my swords and shields won’t like it.”
“Can you stop me?”
At Ian’s words, every guard escorting the Emperor turned their eyes toward his left hand. He had left the absurdly heavy Executioner behind before setting out, but there was no way to leave the magic sword in his left hand, so he had been forced to bring it.
“I have no desire to fight you. No father would hate the person who turned his troublesome son into a proper human being.”
“Haa…”
Once Clayven was brought into the conversation, Ian’s tension eased slightly.
“You called me because of the dragon, didn’t you?”
“You already know. In that case, if I ordered you to bind it to the Empire, would you obey?”
“If you wish to confront the Demon Realm directly, then by all means try.”
It was a clear warning: touch her, and the wall of the North would crumble.
“Enough. It’s not as if I can command an adult dragon at will, and I have no perverse hobby of tormenting a child.”
“Then what is the real reason you summoned me?”
“Do you know why I never designated a successor?”
“I do not. Nor do I wish to involve myself.”
Unless his survival depended on Clayven becoming Emperor, Ian had not the slightest intention of stepping into the succession struggle.
“After ascending the throne, I became deeply absorbed in astrology. The problem was that I possessed far too much talent for it.”
“Are you boasting?”
“No. It is a curse. The curse of learning far too much.”
At the Emperor’s answer, the phrase curse of knowledge rose in Ian’s mind. Several astrologers he had met during his adventurer days also deliberately lengthened their cycles, doing everything possible to avoid reading the stars.
“I have heard such things. They say astrologers go mad because they ultimately see the end.”
“Correct. I quit before that happened, casting aside my lingering attachments, but I had already learned far too much.”
“So you didn’t designate a successor because everything was already decided?”
“That’s right. No matter what I did, the process might differ, but the result remained identical. Until it began to change.”
The Emperor’s previously dry eyes slowly kindled with life.
“It was you.”
“Pardon?”
“It started with my son. Clayven should have returned not after ten years, but after three years of running away—a completely broken man.”
After three years passed with no sign of his return, the Emperor had begun investigating with Clayven at the center the moment the fifth year arrived.
“The Black Hand. The Chaos Worshippers. The Demon King Cultists.”
“……”
Ten years that should have been filled with nothing but adventure. Yet between those adventures lay a variety of other matters. The fight against the organization known as the Black Hand, which began with Ivelin’s rescue, had been the start.
“Indeed. They are the trash you and your comrades fought and crushed.”
“Are you angry that the future you knew has changed?”
“Does it look like I’m angry?”
It did not. Like a corpse regaining life, vitality was blooming in the Emperor’s eyes.
“I found politics entertaining. Can you guess why?”
“I cannot.”
“Uncertainty. The uncertainty of not knowing when the balance of power might suddenly reverse drove me mad. In that sense, Duke Kane was the finest of bad friends.”
“The Duke would not be pleased to hear that.”
“What does it matter? I am the Emperor, after all.”
A faint bitterness rose in Ian’s throat. He could not say it aloud, but he could not help feeling a sense of kinship with the man before him.
So that’s what I looked like after my adventures ended.
The hometown he had returned to after finishing everything. All the way back, the flame in his heart had slowly died, and at the end he would have become a living corpse—just like the Emperor he now faced.
“Haa. So what exactly do you want from me?”
“Nothing complicated. Do as you please. I will simply make adjustments to ensure this nation does not shake too violently.”
“Then why summon me at all?”
“Because I wanted to see a kindred spirit I could never find in my lifetime?”
The sparkling eyes were like staring into a mirror.
“Oh? You’re not going to say ‘I am different from you.’”
“If I claimed to be different from someone who still holds the line, wouldn’t that make me the trash?”
“Haha. Fair enough. It is my eternal regret that I cannot leap in myself. Still, the way Duke Kane slightly caught on was rather thrilling.”
The Emperor was enjoying his own private ‘adventure’—so long as the country did not shake.
“Then may I take my leave?”
“You may. As much as you like. Ah! I will offer you one piece of advice.”
“What is it?”
“Did I not say? The process may change, but the result never did—no matter what I tried.”
“You did. What of it…”
Only then did Ian remember exactly what kind of world this was.
A romance-fantasy novel. And an academy setting.
He had forgotten because, aside from a single encounter at a party, there had been no entanglement.
“Haa. It seems trash continues to appear as long as humans exist.”
“Oh? That’s an excellent way to put it.”
“The Empire will grow noisy. Will that be all right? More importantly, the Third Prince could be in danger.”
He had been an ill-mannered brat, but not so detestable that Ian wished him dead.
“He must overcome it himself. Now that Clayven has changed, even I no longer know that child’s future or Clayven’s.”
In other words, he knew the fates of his other children but chose not to care.
Feeling as though he were looking at his own twisted former self, Ian felt an unnecessary wave of nausea.
“Then I shall take my leave.”
“Farewell. Protect the North well.”
It was not a request from the Emperor. It was simply the plea of a man asking that his source of entertainment be preserved.
The news that the Grand Duke—who had gone to meet the dwarves and left his post for several days—had finally returned spread quickly. The first person to come running was, unexpectedly, Kiana.
“Your Grace…”
“Uh… Sorry?”
When Ian arrived before the inner castle, he offered an awkward apology at the sight of her. Disheveled red hair, dark circles, and parched skin. Ian had been crushed by work himself, but he had never looked like that, so he could not imagine how much Kiana had endured.
“Why! Why must you always stir up trouble outside?!”
“It just… happened?”
The first day had been fine. But afterward, the matter of the Dwarf Kingdom and the subsequent connection issues caused the workload to multiply several times over. Kiana, who had pulled all-nighters until Ian’s return, had no choice but to explode.
“I’m going to sleep. Do not disturb me!”
Having made her declaration, Kiana turned and headed to her room. None of those present dared comment on her rudeness.
“Where are Ivelin and Lilia?”
“They are happily playing with the drake head you sent.”
At the center of the inner castle garden, adorned with brilliant flowers, stood an enormous monster skull. It was the head of a variant drake. Once the terror of the dwarves, that head had now become a playground for a young dragon.
“You’ve returned.”
“Waa! It’s the Grand Duke!”
As if her father had returned from a long journey, Lilia dashed forward the moment she saw him and leaped into his arms. Ivelin stood behind her; Zenon was nowhere to be seen.
“Hehe.”
While stroking the head of the giggling Lilia in his embrace, Ian looked at Ivelin.
“What about Brother Zenon?”
“He is busy with research. There is the work he was originally doing, but the crystal sent along with the drake head required urgent support from the Magic Tower.”
The crystal from the drake’s habitat was no ordinary object, so he was currently studying it together with the dispatched dwarf inventors.
“You’ve grown stronger.”
“There is no teacher like real combat. I also obtained a fine sword.”
The Executioner had been moved to Ian’s bedroom due to its size. It had become a beloved weapon he always wanted to wield, yet its bulk and weight made it impractical to carry unless he was heading into a decisive battle.
“How is the training for the scouts and engineers proceeding?”
“Most of the scouts were originally hunters, so they completed basic training quickly. The problem lies with the engineers.”
“Haha. There is indeed a great deal of head work involved.”
Studying letters and numbers. Those who had volunteered for the engineer corps were currently suffering both physically and mentally beneath Slon’s thunderous scolding. Their stamina was excessively high, which helped, but many northerners had grown strong without needing to use their heads. Sitting at desks felt like combat to them.
“Sleepy.”
“Come here.”
Lilia, who had been playing energetically until Ian arrived and then nestled in his warm arms, soon began to whine. Ivelin took her with practiced ease. In her soft embrace, Lilia fell asleep almost instantly.
“I heard you met the Emperor. Are you all right?”
“It’s all right, yet not all right. An ambiguous situation.”
“What does that mean?”
“Don’t glare at me like that and listen. You remember the ones we crushed, including the Black Hand, yes?”
“It would be stranger if I had forgotten.”
Ivelin covered Lilia’s eyes so the child would not see her expression. The chill that radiated from her was enough to make Ian flinch.
“Similar vermin are apparently beginning to creep out again.”
“So you’re going to abandon the Grand Duke’s seat and go fight once more?”
“No. His Majesty said he will manage the Empire’s side well. He simply asked that no problems arise in the North.”
“Then we must call them.”
“We must.”
The time had come to summon the strongest holy knight who had once taken the vanguard alongside Ian, as well as the strongest nagger who had whipped their problem child into shape.
At the eastern edge of the Empire, in a small stretch of land between it and the Union, there existed an inviolable sanctuary respected by every power in the world. This was the headquarters of the church that served the goddess Freya.
It was a place every priest in the world wished to visit at least once before death, the residence of the Pope, and the training ground where holy knights were forged.
“Stronger.”
“Haaap!”
Boom!
In the training grounds for holy knight candidates, someone was taking their attacks with a bare body. Though dressed simply, the curves beneath the clothing revealed her gender. Yet the compressed muscle and countless scars engraved across her form were anything but ordinary.
“More.”
With a completely different sound than before, the mace bounced away. Aside from a faint flush, there was not a single scratch on the woman with ash-gray hair and eyes. Yelena glared coldly at the candidate who had lost her weapon.
“You are dead. Do you understand why?”
“I do not!”
“After losing your mace, you must not stop. You should have continued attacking with your fist at the very least. Take up your shield.”
At Yelena’s command, the candidate—whose head was a size larger than most—nervously raised her shield.
Bang!
The fist pierced the air and collided with the shield. What shattered was the shield itself. Even though it had been infused with abundant holy power, it could not withstand a fist of mere flesh and bone.
“Keurgh?!”
“Fortunately you did not kneel. I will acknowledge that much.”
“Thank you!”
“Remember this. You must never give up simply because you lost your weapon. A holy knight’s greatest weapons are their own body and their unyielding spirit. Never forget it.”
“Understood!”
Having received the words of the current generation’s strongest holy knight, the candidates threw themselves into hellish training under the guidance of other instructors.
“Lady Yelena. Grand Duke Ian of Wintergard has sent you an item.”
Leaving behind the candidates who trained with such fervor that their teeth might shatter, Yelena had been cooling her heated body with cold water. At the familiar name, she flinched before she could stop herself.