Founding the Order (1)
Rupert was an herbalist who had run an alchemy shop for forty years. His business reached its turning point five years ago, when the 'Young Saint' appeared in the market district.
Nothing was known about the 'Young Saint' except that he was remarkably young, yet his mysterious Awoken Ability healed the sick and caused an enormous sensation. When he raised a dying patient to his feet with a single touch, rumors even spread that he was Solitas reincarnated.
But perhaps the attention he drew became too intense, because one day the 'Young Saint' vanished like a mirage.
It was around that time that Lucian Grey disappeared from the back alleys as well. Lucian paid out massive compensation to his fraud victims and shut down every one of his illegal operations.
Wild speculation swirled about why Lucian had changed so suddenly. Some said he was possessed by an evil spirit; others claimed a new lover had straightened him out.
There were even those who insisted the 'Young Saint' had purified Lucian's sin-stained soul. The timing matched eerily well, so it wasn't an opinion one could simply dismiss.
Once the alleys were thoroughly cleansed, order in the market slowly recovered. That was when Rupert's shop began filling with customers.
"Grandfather, I'm here."
Kaspar came strolling into the shop, humming a tune.
"Mm-hm. Put what you brought down in the basement."
Rupert didn't even glance at his grandson, too busy dealing with the flood of customers.
Kaspar hauled the rope-bound sacks of herbs down to the cellar. The way he tossed the heavy sacks to their precise spots had a practiced ease to it.
Brushing off his hands as he climbed back up, Kaspar finally turned his gaze toward the customer speaking with his grandfather.
He was a boy of perhaps twelve.
Any noble standing was obvious from the fine fabric of his clothes. But what caught Kaspar's eye wasn't the outfit — it was the boy's looks.
Translucent skin, delicate features finer than his own, lashes thick as flower petals — the boy was more beautiful than anyone Kaspar had ever laid eyes on. If the word 'resplendent' ever took physical form, it would look like this.
Kaspar stood gaping, entranced, until his grandfather's laughter snapped him back to his senses.
"I suppose one could see it that way. Truly remarkable."
"The admiration is all mine. To think Joseph's blending formula could be put to such use."
"Then what about the highland boar's fang? It's a treasure of mine, I'll admit, but I believe the current formula calls for a stronger flavor."
Kaspar's jaw dropped at Rupert's words. The highland boar's fang was a ingredient Rupert treasured above all others, one he wouldn't even mention to customers lacking a discerning eye.
No way he was simply playing host because the boy was a noble — Rupert was the sort of unbending man who'd keep his spine ramrod straight even if a duke's son stood before him.
Besides, Joseph's blending formula was a combination taught only in the intermediate course of alchemy. Kaspar had studied under his grandfather for seven years now, and watching a boy that young wield such knowledge stirred something beyond curiosity — it bordered on awe.
Just then, the shop door jingled, and four rugged men and women strode in, armed with longswords and axes. Over their chainmail they wore black tunics emblazoned with a raven.
Kaspar's brow furrowed. They were mercenaries of Ravenshade, the merchant guild sponsored by Lord Chris Esterzy.
Ravenshade had swiftly swallowed up the underworld that the Grey Guild had abandoned, and was fast becoming the new dark power of the city.
"Hey, old man!"
A scruffy-bearded mercenary bellowed. He pulled a potion in a glass vial from his coat and slammed it down on the table like he was throwing it at Rupert's face.
"That potion you sold us gave our youngest a terrible stomachache. We bought it to cure a sickness, and it piled on another one! How are you going to take responsibility for this, huh? How are you going to take responsibility!"
When he smashed his fist on the table, the potion bounced up and went rolling across the floor. The customers browsing the shelves began streaming out the door.
"Out, everyone out. We're closing up for today."
A female mercenary shooed the customers away with a jerk of her chin.
Kaspar clenched his teeth. This was Ravenshade's signature tactic — pressuring shop owners into handing their stores over for a pittance.
But he was only a merchant's grandson. The mercenaries might not have Awoken Abilities, but they had each swallowed at least one source of mana, and no ordinary human could hope to stand against them.
"Hey, kid! What are you still doing there? Can't you read the room?"
The mercenaries barked at the boy, though their voices lacked the iron they'd used to pressure Rupert.
"Wait, surely he's not a noble?"
"Don't be stupid. Would a noble's son come to this filthy market without a carriage or a bodyguard?"
"Could be a runaway."
"What would we know about a runaway's circumstances?"
They huddled, whispered, reached a conclusion, and shouted louder this time.
"Hey! You brat! Why don't you scamper off right now!"
"Young friends, I beg you — whatever else happens, please leave this one alone."
"You're hardly in a position to ask for favors, old man. Save the requests for after you show us some good faith."
"Should've listened to us the first time. Would've saved everyone the trouble."
The mercenaries circled the boy, glaring. Rupert fidgeted in agony, terrified that his young customer might come to harm because of him.
Then Kaspar sprinted over and planted himself in front of the boy.
"S-stop this at once!"
Kaspar's own eyes nearly bulged out of his head.
'What madness am I doing right now?'
His mouth, unlike his brain, had gone rogue.
"I said stop it! Grown adults ganging up on one child — d-don't you have any shame?"
"What was that? Speak up, I can't hear you."
The mercenaries mocked Kaspar. His face burned scarlet and he dropped his head. His skull felt feverish. His heart pounded, and his limbs trembled like aspen leaves. He couldn't tell where on earth this courage had come from.
But he didn't regret it. If anything, he wished he'd done this long ago. He was tired of living like a coward.
"The potion's the problem, right? Then just give him a new one!"
"We want compensation for treatment too. My little brother's in real pain right now."
"How much would that be?"
"A thousand barts."
"Th-that's outrageous!"
"Think we're pushovers, kid?"
The mercenary's eyes turned vicious.
"Sounds like your life's been a little too easy. Time you learned some hardship, hm?"
His hand drifted toward the mace hanging at his hip.
"Young friends — if you must strike someone, strike me instead!"
Rupert cried out in desperation.
"...Well, well."
At that moment, the silent boy burst into ringing laughter.
"They say when the tiger is away, the fox becomes king."
The boy was eerily calm. So calm, in fact, that he seemed to be enjoying the situation.
The instant a mercenary opened his mouth to shout back, an indescribable aura erupted from the boy. Breath caught in the throat, hair stood on end — a presence that no human being could possibly possess.
"C-can't breathe—!"
"Krrgh—!"
The mercenaries' faces contorted in agony. They stood frozen beneath the pressure, slowly suffocating where they stood.
"Ravenshade, was it?"
The boy smiled, cold as frost.
"Tell your master this. If his wish is to create hardship — consider that wish granted."
Kaspar's eyes went wide. Long flowers of ice bloomed from the mercenaries' chests. Dropping their weapons, they howled in agony.
The boy wielded one of the most powerful Awoken Abilities known — the elemental class. And when it came to the power of ice, there was one figure so famous that no one in the entire duchy wouldn't recognize his name.
Iden Esterzy.
Pale as death, the mercenaries bolted from the shop, still sheathed in ice. When the boy turned around, Rupert and Kaspar flinched back in guiltless terror.
"Now then. Where were we?"
The grandfather and grandson's minds went blank. They couldn't fathom what conversation he wanted to resume — whether they should beg forgiveness, or prostrate themselves on the spot. The boy looked up at them steadily, then asked in a bright, eager voice:
"...The highland boar's fang, was it?"
Five winters had passed. In that time, I had completed the majority of my private tutoring subjects with excellent marks.
Swordsmanship was among them. Once Caroi confirmed I had mastered the essentials of the Crimson Blade, he left the palace with only a single remark:
"This much will do."
He left no destination behind. Like the wind he had arrived on, he simply vanished.
Some things remained unchanged across those five years. I stood with my hands clasped behind my back, gazing down at the smoldering garden. A lizard of roughly thirty centimeters scampered between the red-hot firestones.
Over the past five years, Lunchbox had doubled in size. 'Doubled' sounded impressive, but the reality was a palm-sized critter that had grown to the length of a forearm.
"There you are, my lord."
Lucian approached from a distance, sweeping his sleeves. He came to stand beside me, watched Lunchbox scamper about, and remarked:
"Growing little by little, I see."
"'Little by little' is exactly the problem. At this rate, I'll be an old man before he ever becomes a dragon."
"Forming a bond of attachment is what matters. Everything grows faster when it's loved."
"I'm plotting to rip his heart out once he's grown. You think love's going to happen?"
The lizard crept stealthily toward me. It wedged itself neatly between Lucian and me and nuzzled its head against my leg.
Lucian smiled with his eyes.
"It looks entirely possible to me, my lord."
"He's asking for food. He knows exactly who feeds him."
I fed the creature finely chopped meat, one piece at a time. He ate whatever he was given with an appetite that never wavered — where it all went, though, remained a mystery.
After stuffing Lunchbox full, I began a slow stroll along the garden path with Lucian.
"Ravens have been running wild in the commercial district."
"Ravenshade, you mean."
"That's right. Time to start working out a plan."
Over the past five years, Lucian's business had grown spectacularly. He had kept, without exception, his promise to me never to touch anything dirty.
Thanks to that, the Grey Guild now commanded over thirty percent of the 'clean' market — but in exchange, all of the underground operations he had spent years building went to Chris, who now flaunted Ravenshade as his banner and was brazenly eyeing legitimate territory as well.
"You understand, my lord, that disciplining a few mercenaries won't settle anything. The Raven Knights stand behind them. I've been managing my own mercenaries, but no amount of hired blades can stand against knights."
Knights manifested their Awoken Abilities in childhood, consumed costly sources of mana, and honed their martial arts their whole lives. They were not foes that riffraff could handle.
"So we need knights of our own, don't we?"
"Yes, my lord. We can delay no longer."
The only reason founding our knight order had been postponed for five years was Lunchbox. With six hundred thousand barts a year going to the creature's heating bill alone, I couldn't afford to look anywhere else.
But thanks to Lucian's flourishing business, our surplus now stood at two million barts a year even after heating costs. The time had finally come to push forward our long-postponed project.
"Founding a knight order requires two things. Outstanding Awoken Ability users, and sources of mana. With enough coin, mana sources are no trouble at all — but recruiting exceptional ability users rests entirely in your hands, my lord."
In other words: give them a reason to choose me over my older brothers.
My brothers had been born years ahead of me and had long since locked down the nobility and the Awoken. For a latecomer to turn the board, I needed one decisive, devastating move.
"Leave it to me. I already have something in mind."
"Might I ask what it is?"
"Just know that I intend to recruit someone very famous."
"Someone very famous... Now I'm curious. Just how famous must one be to catch your eye, my lord?"
"You'll see."
I smiled.
The full-scale campaign to found the knight order began. I set up a temporary headquarters in an unused meeting room of the palace and summoned my two bodyguard knights — my right and left hands.
"Vitten. Thalia."
"Yes, sir."
"Yes, my lord."
"As you know, I've never handled practical affairs myself, so I need you two to serve as the officers of the knight order... Vitten, where's your beard?"
Vitten's trademark red beard had been shaved clean off. The smooth, bare jaw looked rather handsome, but seeing him suddenly cleanshaven after all these years was more than a little jarring.
"I was wondering the same thing. Where did my beard go?"
Vitten asked in a voice of profound gloom.
"The reason for shaving, he claims, was his lover's preference."
Thalia answered on his behalf.
"Ah, right — you were introduced to someone recently, weren't you?"
I vaguely recalled seeing Vitten skulking around with a lovely young lady of late.
"Well... if the one you love asks for it, a beard is a small price to pay."
Now that I looked, it wasn't just the beard. His lion's-mane of red hair had been tied back as well, and his whole appearance was far more refined than usual.
"I got dumped yesterday."
"...What?"
I was genuinely taken aback.
"Why did she dump you?"
"She says my jaw is ugly."
I stared at Vitten, mouth agape. He radiated the air of a man who, if not for my presence, would have dug a tunnel straight down into the Underworld on the spot.
"I can grant you leave, Vitten, if you'd like."
"No need."
Vitten said glumly.
"I'll drown myself in work. Work me to the bone, my lord."
"Are you sure you're alright?"
"I suspect I won't be. Unless I keep my hands busy."
If anything, Vitten seemed to find new vigor in the misery. I decided to respect his wishes.
"Back to business, then. I want you two to fill the officer seats of the newly founded order. The commander position already has its ideal candidate, so you'll have to divide the vice-commander and First Squad captain posts between yourselves..."
I looked back and forth between the two of them.
"Which of you is stronger?"
"We're even."
"I would win."
The answers left their mouths simultaneously.
"Who's winning, then?"
They shot each other a glance, then answered once more, almost in unison.
"Obviously not me?"
"We're even."
"Hey, Thalia. What makes you think you'd beat me? Forgot who taught you how to hold a wooden sword?"
"That was fifteen years ago, senior."
"Shut it. Fifteen years later, a senior's still a senior. Ever heard the saying 'once a senior, forever a senior'?"
"Of course, senior. You will be my senior for all eternity. My skill, however, is simply better than yours."
Sparks flew between the two. Normally Vitten would have conceded a step and Thalia would have met him halfway, keeping the peace — but this Vitten was not his usual self, while this Thalia was exactly her usual self.
Choosing who took the officer seats was a serious matter. It couldn't simply be a matter of doling out positions to whoever happened to be closest to me.
My brothers had already snapped up every established Awoken Ability user in the duchy. My order would be filled mostly with young users who had only just awakened their abilities — and for them, I needed role models they could truly trust and follow.
Young, capable, and worthy of admiration.
Such a figure would make the ideal commander — but the vice-commander had to be an overwhelming powerhouse who would shoulder the order's martial strength.
"Fine. You two — spar."
"Right now, my lord?"
"Long or short, you only find out by crossing blades. Down to the garden. There's nothing left in there worth breaking."
I led the two knights down to the garden.
When I snapped my fingers toward the desolate courtyard, Lunchbox came tearing across the distance and scaled my shoulder.
To make sure no one ever stole my precious materials, I had trained Lunchbox to hide in the safest possible location at my signal.
The safest location, of course, being my embrace. I believe this counts as my most brilliant achievement of the past five years.
"Alright — from now on, smash whatever you like."
I temporarily lifted the formation barrier for the duel. The two knights faced each other atop the fire lizard enclosure, still radiating heat.
"You should just give up, junior. Once I get going, I don't know how to hold back."
"Then I'll hold back, senior. It would be a shame if you got hurt."
Flames flickered in Vitten's eyes.
"Last chance. Admit defeat before you get a taste of something ugly?"
"And I'll offer you a last chance to spare yourself the embarrassment."
Tremendous energy began to pour off the two of them.
Awoken Ability users are ranked in five tiers: Low, Mid, High, Master, and Grand Master.
The mercenaries I'd seen in the market were Low-tier at best. Ordinary fighters could thrash about their whole lives without ever rising past the Low rank.
Only the gifted, the chosen few, could become Mid-tier Awoken. Most of those called 'knights' fell into this tier.
And only the elite among knights earned the right to be called High-tier.
From Master upward, one entered what could only be called a heaven beyond the heavens. In the vast duchy, Grand Master-tier Awoken numbered exactly two: my father, Duke Drek, and Caroi.
Thud... th-thud...
Red fur sprouted across Vitten's entire body. His leather clothes split at the seams as his muscles swelled. Fangs jutted out sharp as knives, and his nails lengthened into hooks.
A reinforcement-type Awoken Ability —
Red Wolf.
It was my first time seeing a reinforcement-type ability in action. Once the transformation was complete, Vitten was, for all practical purposes, a beast.
"AWOOOOO—!"
Vitten threw back his head and howled. Savage ferocity gleamed in his golden-yellow eyes. Not a shred of reason seemed left in them. It was possible this would escalate to the point where I'd have to step in myself to keep the duel from going too far.
His rank was the very brink of High-tier.
Power befitting his legendary reputation as an adventurer.
And then...
Thalia released her power.
For a moment I doubted my own ears. I thought I heard a distinctly unimpressive sound — a sharp little crack. What was certain, at least, was that Vitten got clobbered by Thalia's aura and went flying backward.
Purple energy surged thickly from Thalia's longsword. A nickname I'd once heard in passing came back to me.
'Blasphemous Thalia.'
She wielded a curse-type Awoken Ability called Profane Mist — a terrifying power that reduced every component of matter it touched into blood-red sludge.
The pecking order of Awoken Abilities was anyone's guess, but there was no mistaking that her power had climbed past High-tier into the ranks of Master.
"Stop — that's enough!"
I intervened for the sake of Vitten's wellbeing. Thalia glanced back at me and slowly reined in her released energy.
Vitten lay sprawled across the lukewarm lizard enclosure, limbs spread wide. His transformation had already faded, but he showed no sign of getting up.
"Were you perhaps injured in some way—"
"I did not land a single attack."
Thalia cut me off flatly.
I drew closer to Vitten. He was stark naked, his clothes shredded to ribbons. He didn't appear to be hurt. His large eyes blinked like a startled ox, and their light was — unlike moments ago — remarkably clear.
"Vitten."
"...My lord Iden."
He spoke in a voice full of sorrow.
"I'm just going to take that vacation now."
"No, you're not going anywhere. You said you'd drown yourself in work, didn't you? Thalia takes vice-commander, and you take First Squad captain. Done."
"Then make it Tenth Squad captain — no, attach the largest number you can possibly imagine to my title, my lord. Only then will I find it within myself to accept."
Vitten's self-esteem had already plunged into the Underworld.