The Unquenchable Flame
"Me?"
Raon narrowed his eyes. A summons the instant the duel ended—he couldn't begin to guess the intent behind it.
"Ah, to be precise, he told me to bring the top trainee."
Rimer shrugged.
The top trainee, huh.
Which meant anyone would do, so long as they held the rank. Glenn had almost certainly expected Marta to win today's duel.
How amusing.
First Burren, now Marta. He'd smashed every candidate the Patriarch had been counting on, one after another, and the thought almost made him laugh.
"What's the reason for the summons?"
"How should I know?"
Rimer stuck out his lower lip and shook his head. That expression made it obvious he knew perfectly well—and had no intention of saying.
"When do I need to go?"
Raon asked, absently turning over the wooden case stuffed into his pocket.
"Right now."
"Understood."
He nodded and brushed the dust from his clothes.
"You're going like that? You're not even going to change?"
"No."
"You're not scared of the Patriarch?"
"He's not calling me so he can eat me. There's no reason to be afraid."
Those ice-cold eyes of Glenn's were uncomfortable, that much was true—but fear was another matter entirely.
"You really are a fun one."
Rimer cackled and nodded, then gave Raon's shoulder a few satisfied pats.
"Let's go."
"Yes."
Raon followed Rimer toward the Audience Chamber of the Lord's Palace.
"Lady Marta really lost?"
"To a child that small…"
"I can't believe it."
"Age aside, their talents aren't even in the same league."
"Luck. It had to be luck!"
Everyone they passed stole glances at Raon, their eyes bright with curiosity or naked astonishment.
"Looks like the news that you beat Marta has already gotten around."
Rimer glanced back over his shoulder with a sly grin.
"Already?"
"House Zieghart is a closed-off family."
Closed to the outside, he muttered, which meant rumors on the inside spread like the wind.
"On top of that, Marta's good enough to beat other direct descendants. You took a kid like that head-on and won. Of course the story's flying."
"I see."
"So watch yourself. The fall is just as fast as the climb."
Rimer said it while jabbing a thumb at his own chest. He was talking about himself—about the plunge that had followed the ruin of his aura core.
"Anyway, congratulations. This is a good thing. Enjoy it."
He whistled as he strode into the Lord's Palace. Word must have gone ahead of them; the warriors stepped aside without a word of challenge.
"The Patriarch is waiting."
They crossed the grand corridor on the first floor and stopped before the Audience Chamber. Roen, Glenn's butler, smiled warmly and opened the door.
A sound like a heart stopping. The enormous iron doors split apart, and a colossal pressure poured out through the gap, vast enough to punch a hole in the sky.
Raon clutched at the left side of his chest.
It was this strong…?
Now that he had learned aura, Glenn's presence felt even more immense. An overwhelming wave of force with no end in sight—he couldn't stop his hands from trembling.
A mere human…
Wrath's voice shook as well, as if he too were being crushed beneath Glenn's power.
"You've got aura now, so you can feel it properly, huh?"
Rimer smiled, a single bead of sweat sliding down his brow.
"That is our king."
The corner of his mouth curled up, and he stepped inside.
"Nnh…"
Raon swallowed a dry throatful of air and followed. With every step, Glenn's presence grew heavier. The crushing pressure made it feel as though his shoulders were being driven into the floor.
"We greet the Patriarch!"
Raon dropped to one knee in the same line as Rimer. Only then did Glenn's pressure recede.
He had reined in that presence in the space of a heartbeat. Martial might that touched the heavens. Even Derus would never catch him.
"Rise."
The word was a command, and Raon's head came up of its own accord. The moment he met Glenn's crimson eyes, everything around him blurred. The sheer weight of the man was overwhelming.
"I have brought the top trainee you summoned."
"……"
Glenn did not answer Rimer. He simply regarded Raon in silence. He might have been displeased; he might have been perfectly calm. Not a scrap of what he was thinking could be read from that face.
"You acquired the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames."
"Yes."
"How long did it take?"
"About seven months."
"Slow."
He tilted his chin a fraction. He looked as though he found it pathetic.
"Raise your aura."
At Glenn's order, Raon looked to Rimer. His eyes asked whether he was truly permitted to draw aura before the Patriarch. Rimer nodded.
"Ordinarily you wouldn't, but he's the one telling you to do it."
"Understood."
Raon stood, clenched his fist, then opened it.
A sound like dying embers lurching back to life—and a vivid crimson flame bloomed in his palm. The First Flame of the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames. One fire. The first fire. It burned.
"So that is the first of the Ten Thousand Flames."
A faint tremor passed through Glenn's eyes, eyes that had seemed sunk in the mud at the bottom of a river.
"What did you pursue when you kindled that aura?"
"A fire that neither dies nor breaks."
"It does not go out?"
"I pictured a flame that would never be extinguished—not by wind, not by rain. Never."
Glenn's mouth stayed shut as he watched the fire burning in Raon's grip for a long time. It might have been a trick of the light, but he looked almost moved.
"Not bad."
"Pardon?"
Praise he had never expected to hear from that man. He touched his ear, wondering if he'd misheard.
"Fire-attribute swordsmen and mages boast the greatest destructive power there is—and their endurance and defense are just as famously poor. An unquenchable flame might let you overcome that weakness, depending on how you use it. Give careful thought to how you will wield it."
"…Understood."
Raon nodded, still startled. He had never dreamed Glenn would suddenly offer advice like that. His voice shook, just slightly.
"There's no need to find it strange. I am only saying now what I failed to say at the evaluation ceremony."
"Ah…"
So that was it. At the evaluation ceremony years ago, Glenn had given counsel to everyone except him. This was the advice he hadn't been able to offer then.
What a curious man.
Glenn was as cold as a glacier carved into the shape of a human being—and yet he looked after what needed looking after.
The exact opposite of Derus, who tended to people on the surface and used them like objects underneath.
"I will now tell you why I called you."
Glenn rested his chin on his hand and looked down at Raon.
"Around next year, I will assign you a mission."
"A mission, my lord?"
"From your days as probationary trainees until now, it has been well over a year since you began your training. All of you have acquired aura and become Sword Beginners. It should be fine to send you outside."
"Mm…"
"Do you think you are too young? Age has nothing to do with battle. A swordsman must fight whenever the sword can be drawn—any time, any place."
That's not it. I was thinking it was late.
In his previous life he hadn't received assassination missions at fourteen. He'd received them at eight. At his current age, this wasn't early. It was slow.
"Tell the others as well—not only you. Every trainee is to prepare thoroughly. They must be able to fulfill their role in any moment, under any circumstances."
"…Understood."
"You may go."
Glenn lowered his eyelids and waved a hand. Raon knelt once more, bowed his head, and left the Audience Chamber.
"It is about time they had a mission."
Rimer laced his fingers behind his head and grinned.
"What mission will we be carrying out?"
"Hasn't been decided yet. Monster subjugation, escort duty, dungeon exploration, bandit suppression. No telling what you'll get, so do as the Patriarch said and prepare for every situation."
"You'll be coming with us, won't you, Instructor?"
"I'll be going, but my mission and yours aren't the same. An instructor's purpose is to protect you."
"Understood."
"Huh?"
Rimer's eyes went round. He'd clearly expected Raon to be thrown off.
A mission is something you carry out yourself. Obviously.
Even when he'd been handed missions at eight years old, there had been no support of any kind. An instructor standing by to protect them in an emergency—what luxury.
House Zieghart is a gentler place than I thought.
Leaving a bewildered Rimer behind, Raon walked out of the Lord's Palace with a smile on his face.
After Raon left for the Annex, Rimer stepped back into the Audience Chamber.
"You look pleased."
Rimer smiled as he regarded Glenn, who stood upon the dais.
"No different from usual."
"Come now. For 'no different,' the corner of your mouth is up by about two millimeters."
"Enough nonsense. Report on Marta's condition."
"The bruising is severe, but they'll heal with rest. The real problem is the blow to her spirit."
"If she cannot overcome even that much, she has no business wearing the Zieghart name."
Glenn spoke of the Zieghart spirit without exception—even for Marta, who had been adopted at eight years old.
"When Raon was forming his image of fire, did you assist him?"
"I am his teacher, in my own way. But the choice was Raon's. I only showed him that more than one path existed."
Rimer shrugged and went on.
"How did it feel, seeing the aura of the First Patriarch you'd been waiting for?"
"Exactly as it was written. Beautiful—like looking at a flower made of flame. And its power was incomparable to its size."
"Yes. It shattered Marta's Titan Aura outright—aura she'd spent more than four years building. The output made no sense. But wasn't the color supposed to be gold?"
"The color will shift depending on the flame's intensity. Guide that child so he can continue walking the proper path."
"So you do think of him as special."
"……"
Glenn did not answer. He closed his eyes and waved a hand. You're a nuisance. Get out.
"Then I'll leave the children's mission in your hands."
"That is not my concern. The Administration Office will handle it. Don't waste thought on such things. Raise those children to be strong enough to survive any mission they're given."
"Yes, sir! I'll make sure they don't grow lazy. Thorough education. You have my word."
"The only words that come to mind are, look to yourself first."
Glenn snorted at Rimer's utterly shameless expression.
"That's called teaching by counterexample."
Rimer grinned right back, refusing to yield an inch.
"Hm?"
Judiel was tending the garden when footsteps sounded behind her. She turned.
"Ah—Y-Young Master Raon!"
Raon was looking down at her, quiet and intent. The instant their eyes met, her heart dropped like a stone.
"You've returned!"
She stood and took him in. His clothes were heavy with dust, but he didn't look injured in the slightest.
Don't tell me he won? Against Marta?
The talk had been going around for a month. She'd known Raon was scheduled to duel Marta Zieghart today.
But winning—winning looking like that, without a scratch—had never crossed her mind.
"Did you win the duel?"
"What do you think?"
Raon smiled, just a little.
"Ah…"
That smile, the smile of a man speaking of victory, brought the night back to her. Crimson eyes rising over the lake. Calling that the incarnation of terror would not have been an overstatement.
Of course. This monster was never going to lose to a mere genius.
She understood it all over again. What Raon Zieghart truly was.
"The Heavy Martial Palace will contact you again soon. They'll want a more thorough investigation of me."
"Th-that stands to reason."
"Write whatever you like, then bring it to me."
"Yes, sir."
He went into the Annex wearing a smile that raised gooseflesh along her arms. Judiel felt a cold sweat slide down her back, and the weeds slipped from her fingers.
"A monster who crushes geniuses…"
"Raon!"
The moment Raon stepped into the Annex, he ran into Sylvia, who had been pulling on a coat.
"Were you going somewhere?"
"Where would I be going! You said you'd be home today and you never came, so I was about to go find you!"
Sylvia kicked off the floor and came running. She was faster than most swordsmen.
"Are you all right? Are you hurt?"
Her eyes darted left and right without rest, restless as falling leaves.
"I'm not hurt."
"Oh, thank goodness…"
Sylvia let out a long breath of relief and pressed a hand to her chest. Her eyes, though, never stopped checking him over.
"Was the duel canceled?"
"No. I won."
"And you don't have a single injury?"
"I didn't get hit."
"Y-you won without taking a single blow?"
"Yeah."
"R-really?"
Helen dropped the coat she'd been holding for Sylvia.
Everyone knew Marta's talent rivaled that of the direct line. Their shock was understandable.
"I-if you're not hurt, then eat first! Helen, prepare a meal right away!"
"I'm fine."
"What? You haven't had dinner."
"I've got something to do tonight."
Raon shook his head, fingers brushing the wooden case of elixirs in his pocket.
It was time to grow stronger once again.