The Most Radiant Star

And so, locked in a running battle with boredom — while never once letting my training slip in between — I made my way to the Bahen Grand Duchy, where the Subjugation Festival was to be held.

"Your mana control really has grown more refined than before, my lord."

"Well, this much is only to be expected."

"And yet... I sense a chill running through your mana now. I confess I have never seen the like."

Watching Tarian sink into dead-serious contemplation was, if nothing else, one of the few pieces of content this journey had to offer.

Good thing the trait I'd drawn was a solid one, at least. The mere memory of the first time I'd ever swung a sword was enough to make my teeth ache. Then again, measured against those days, my body had since improved by leaps and bounds.

I was just starting to salivate over what new skill I might pick up next when the carriage began to slow.

"It seems we're nearly there."

"You've been here before?"

"Yes. I spent some time here once as an instructor."

"Right. That tracks."

My brother had called Tarian a famous sword instructor, after all. Though come to think of it, I still had my doubts about just what kind of famous we were talking about.

He wasn't run out of the place, was he? Raising that perfectly reasonable suspicion, I stepped down from the carriage.

Velburg — capital of the Bahen Grand Duchy, and the largest city in all the North. It was certainly very close to the image I'd seen in the game. The only real difference was that where its in-game counterpart had carried a rather gloomy air, this city pulsed with life.

No comparison at all. The atmosphere, the sheer scale — it wasn't even close. Our own territory was hardly a backwater, but seeing the gap with my own eyes made it painfully real.

"Next — Lord Ian Rashid, I presume?"

"I've come ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for the Subjugation Festival."

"Thank you for gracing the festival with your presence."

With a bow, the captain of the gate guard waved us straight through, and I passed into the city proper.

"Whew."

"Nervous, my lord?"

"More looking forward to it, honestly."

"As I thought."

I was still snorting at Tarian's knowing nod when—

The voice flicked past my ear, and I looked down at Frostfang riding at my hip. The sword hung there in perfect silence, as though it had never spoken a word in its life. Looking at it, the smile at the corner of my mouth only deepened.

That was the plan all along. It was exactly what I'd been aiming for, after all. And so we crossed Velburg and made for the grand ducal residence where the banquet was to be held.

"Whoa. This place is enormous."

"Young Lord... er, no, never mind. Shall we go in?"

The moment I let my genuine awe slip out, Tarian's eyes slid away.

"What? Do I sound like some country hick?"

"It's not that..."

Chuckling at his flustered answer, I stepped inside — where ranks of nobles already lined the hall. Among them I spotted my brother, who'd arrived ahead of me. I thought about raising a hand in greeting, but he seemed busy trading words with the other nobles.

Well, he did say dealing with the byproducts was on his plate this time. Of course he'd be swamped. After trading a small nod the moment our eyes met, I swept my gaze across the gathered faces in search of anyone I knew. Perhaps it was still a touch early, because familiar ones were few and far between.

Then again. Setting my goal and making it through the doors had all gone smoothly — but there was a problem. For one, House Rashid's standing was weaker than I'd expected.

"The second son of Rashid, you say? Never heard the name..."

"Oh, surely you have. The one who shut himself away as a recluse?"

"What's someone like that doing at the Subjugation Festival?"

"He's entered, by all accounts, though I wouldn't hold out hope for much of a showing."

"Hardly a surprise, is it? They say he falls short of even Baron Rashid when it comes to talent."

Just from the way those chattering voices drifted into my ears, I could tell as much. They loved to gossip, granted — but had they considered our ranks even remotely comparable, they would never have been so brazen about it.

"Haaam."

"It doesn't trouble you, my lord?"

"Eh. That much?"

Whatever those fools wanted to babble, it barely registered. I'd come to this festival for the rewards, plain and simple — and besides, a good number of the people here might not still be walking this earth five years from now.

Dead men talking. Naturally, that was the sort of impression I couldn't help forming.

"By the way. What's with the mask?"

"There's nothing better for sidestepping awkward entanglements."

If anything, it was Tarian suddenly showing up in a mask that caught my attention more than the gossiping nobles did. In the game he'd always worn one, sure — but seeing it in person was oddly jarring.

"Awkward entanglements, you say?"

"I am rather famous in my own way, you see."

"Yeah, I suppose you would be."

This was, after all, the teacher who'd thrashed me under the pretense of a spar on day one. Mask or no, with skill like his, fame was inevitable.

Makes it hard to say whether that's good luck or bad. Either way, at least he hadn't turned down my proposal to take him on as my sworn knight. Honestly, I wished he'd just accept it and be done.

I'd set my heart on it, after all. Tarian's swordsmanship — the razor-edged blade work he showed only in flashes was something even Northern Swordsmanship couldn't begin to imitate.

"Ha. I'm getting itchy for a fight again."

"Already, my lord?"

"There's no such thing as enough training."

After all, I hadn't been able to bring many weapons on the road, which meant I hadn't even managed to fulfill the Covenant along the way.

Mulling that over, I drifted slowly toward the heart of the banquet hall. It was a grand social gathering held to wish the Subjugation Festival success — and hosted by the Bahen Grand Ducal House itself, its scale matched the name.

Can't even spot my brother anymore. The crowd was thick enough that every noble in the North might have been packed inside. I ambled through it at my leisure, loading up on food as I went.

"Ooh. This is good."

"...Young Lord."

"Khh. The Grand Ducal House really is a different breed."

The banquets at House Rashid were good, no question. This was better. It felt like a spread of dishes you'd struggle to find even back on modern Earth.

"You like it that much? Then I really must have a word with the head chef — that the young lord is so very fond of Grand Ducal cuisine."

"That's going a bit far... our poor chef back home would be genuinely wounded."

I spared a glance at Tarian grinning away behind his mask, then casually shifted my gaze to take the measure of the hall. Hasn't properly started yet, has it. The Grand Ducal House's own people didn't seem to have taken their places.

So I went back to grazing at my leisure and keeping an eye on my surroundings. It wasn't that I had no intention of mingling with the nobility — I simply hadn't come across anyone worth the effort. Real conversation would likely have to wait until after the festival anyway; for the moment, eating and enjoying myself was the profitable play.

"Ha. How uncouth."

The voice came from right beside me just as I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was gnawing the grease off a rack of lamb, bone and all. I glanced over to find a silver-haired young man standing there — and beneath the rather pretty face, a body that had clearly seen serious training.

Oh. And here's one I was expecting. It wasn't hard to place him. Johannes Bahen — third son of House Bahen, and in the game, one of the more decent companions you could pick up.

Five years before the game's start, I suppose — he definitely looks young. If I remembered right, he'd been on the younger side even in-game.

"I know not which house you hail from, but do keep up some semblance of dignity."

He held out a handkerchief as he said it, and I gave a short nod and took it. Aristocratic to the bone, yet fundamentally decent — a guy who could be exasperating at times, but never a bad sort.

And his skills were nothing to sneeze at, either. Granted, as one of the game's pretty-boy male characters, he'd never been exactly beloved of the male player base.

I took the offered handkerchief and lightly wiped down my hands and mouth.

"I appreciate the kindness. Though — who might you be?"

"I am Johannes Bahen. And what might your name be?"

"Ah — Ian Rashid."

So this was Johannes Bahen. I'd heard he was entering the festival, but I hadn't expected to run into him here of all places.

This should be fun. The Subjugation Festival had just gotten a great deal more interesting.

"Ian Rashid...? House Rashid had a son like that?"

"Young Master Johannes, one moment."

The servant at his side hurried to whisper in his ear, and I let out a quiet snort. The man had a point. I'd spent a full year shut in my room, and even before that I'd hardly been famous — no wonder they didn't know the name.

"Ahem, ahem. I see. So he is the second son of House Rashid."

"That's right."

Red-faced, he extended his hand toward me. He was trying to play it off, but the interest in his eyes was plain as day.

Fair enough, I suppose. Northern houses rarely tangled with one another outside grand events like the Subjugation Festival. The terrain was brutal and monster attacks were constant — people his age hardly ever had reason to meet. And by the time the game began, the situation would only grow worse.

"Ahem."

Perhaps for all those reasons, his interest was now on full display — yet visibly tripped up by what he himself had first said, he kept fumbling around it.

He really is an amusing one. Maybe it was his youth, but this was a character whose airheaded gaffes surfaced constantly. For all that he was high nobility's son, his lack of real-world seasoning showed through and through. And yet, even so, he never gave up to the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠very end, and always saw his duties through. He could come across as unsympathetic now and then, but at his core he was a genuinely good character.

"W-We look to be about the same age, so... speak ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠casually."

"Sure. Why not."

I'd carried a fair bit of goodwill toward him from the start anyway — the honorifics had been getting tiresome regardless. Johannes Bahen studied me, looking faintly flustered at how readily I'd dropped the formality.

"And the one beside you — a guarding knight?"

He asked it while sneaking glances at Tarian, who simply stood motionless behind his mask. He was clearly burning with curiosity — but remembering those "awkward entanglements" Tarian had mentioned, I cut that line of sight off at the pass.

"No — less a guard than... my tutor? Instructor?"

"An instructor, hm? Curious. Anyone fit to tutor a noble must be quite skilled indeed."

"Well, he's not bad."

"Sounds as though you're confident in his skill."

At the veiled competitiveness in his words, I let out a soft laugh. Knowing what was actually going to happen in the North, it wasn't as though he was wrong.

"Confident, you say. What — looking to have a spar?"

"...!"

At that one word — spar — Tarian, who had been pointedly avoiding my eyes, lifted his head.

"Young Lord. Absolutely not."

"Ha. Your own tutor seems to be advising against it?"

Tarian murmuring like a hiss, Johannes smiling across his entire face — I looked from one to the other and shrugged.

"Well, we'll find out tomorrow, won't we."

At the words find out, I saw him hesitate for just a moment. It showed — he was barely older than a high schooler.

"Indeed... I suppose we shall."

"Here. It served me well."

"...Keep it."

The moment I moved to return the handkerchief, his face scrunched up in displeasure. Honestly speaking, I'd have liked to test him in a spar right then and there.

I'd wanted to see the Bahen blade for myself. But the real Subjugation Festival would begin in earnest tomorrow. I could guess why Tarian had reined me in — a disappointment was still a disappointment.

Couldn't very well have the kid hurt for nothing, after all.

Just as I was reaching for a dessert, yet another figure made their appearance. Frost-silver hair, a frame a shade taller than Johannes's — and an expression utterly devoid of feeling.

"Yohan. We're leaving."

"Sister, there's still time before it begins..."

"Go and make ready."

The voice carried no emotion whatsoever — it was nearly doll-like. And I had no difficulty at all recognizing who she was.

Larissa Bahen.