Terren’s blade cut through the air with a speed incomparably greater than when he had thrown it at the tree earlier. Even so, Leopold dodged it with ease.
He tossed the sword back to Terren.
“Again.”
Dozens of attacks followed, and fortunately, Leopold was not struck a single time. Just what kind of skill gap made this possible? Even the Academy’s swordsmanship instructor would get hit at least once if Terren threw himself into it seriously.
The two of them, drenched in sweat, caught their breath.
Terren Meyer drew out a magic circle right there. When he applied the magic, the dagger turned a deep blue.
“What is that?”
“Enhancement magic.”
Without another word, Terren took his stance and aimed the dagger straight for the center of Leopold’s heart.
A sharp whistle of wind — and astonishingly, Leopold caught the dagger’s handle bare-handed, right in front of his own heart.
“That nearly killed me.”
“What a shame.”
“Can you try being a little nicer — never mind. I’ve never heard of enhancement magic before. Did you develop it yourself?”
“Don’t say ignorant things. It’s an advanced formula not covered in the curriculum.”
“That was considerably more destructive than what you usually throw. How is that even possible…”
That’s not right. The effect was minimal.
It wasn’t particularly surprising either. That was simply the nature of White Magic — even with magic, it wasn’t enough to beat Leopold.
Even at such a modest effect, Leopold seemed quite taken aback and showed his curiosity.
“What kind of formula is it? Could you show me?”
“No. It would only get in your way regardless. By the time you draw a magic circle, swinging your sword once would be far more effective.”
“…Still, I’m curious. It could make me even stronger.”
“It won’t. Your Highness is already the strongest in the kingdom.”
“Me?”
Leopold burst out laughing.
“How would you know that, Terren.”
“Is there anyone who could beat Your Highness?”
“…Plenty, I’d think. The Knight Commander and I are about evenly matched when we spar — though it seems like there’s no one like that in the royal palace itself. But the kingdom is vast. There are surely wandering knights who are skilled with a blade, monster hunters…”
“There aren’t. And even if there were, Your Highness is still a fourth-year student at the Academy.”
“I’m surprised you’d say something so flattering. I’ll take it gladly.”
“Are you still not a Sword Master?”
“What? Why do you keep bringing up Sword Masters like that? It’s nothing but a legend.”
Leopold laughed in disbelief. Terren asked back.
“What do you mean, a legend.”
“I mean it might as well be one. It’s a level no person can attain. Though there is a true legend as well, of course. They say a Sword Master who existed in the kingdom three hundred years ago surpassed the limits of human strength.”
In Terren’s eyes, Leopold’s swordsmanship had already surpassed human limits too. He was nearly one with his blade. He was strong enough to take down multiple monsters at once.
Though not as strong as Dark Sorcery.
“The sword moved as if it had a will of its own, they say. Light poured from the blade, and some unknown energy merged with the sword, wielding tremendous power. Sounds completely ridiculous.”
“I see.”
Terren nodded. There’s no way something like that could exist in this world.
…Or could it?
Something suddenly flashed across his mind. It was an entirely unrelated word, and yet it stirred a strange sense of déjà vu.
“…Magic?”
He murmured. Immediately after, his steady heartbeat quickened slightly.
An unknown energy. An energy from which light poured. A sword with a will of its own. Strength surpassing human limits.
Isn’t that just magic?
Terren raised his head. He took a step toward Leopold. A faint spark of life appeared in his previously dim ash-gray eyes.
“Where did you hear about that legend?”
“I can’t remember. Did the Knight Commander mention it?”
“……”
“Ah, I think I may have read it in a book. There was a book on swordsmanship in the royal palace library.”
Leopold, who had been answering in an absent tone, suddenly noticed the change in Terren’s demeanor and was taken aback.
He was interested.
Somehow that’s strange. Unexpected reactions kept surprising him in the most unforeseen places. Earlier, when he’d heard the insult, he’d shown no reaction at all — and now, of all things, he was suddenly animated over this.
“What is the name of that book?”
“I think it had a title to do with swordsmanship in general. Since it was in the grand library, it would mean there’s only one copy in the world.”
Why had he been so calm earlier?
No — why had he looked so strikingly, unnervingly familiar with it?
Leopold swallowed, feeling something burning in his chest.
He had been trying not to show it, but his mood had in truth been plummeting since earlier.
Not because he had been the subject of a foul joke. Because Terren had been insulted? That part, yes.
But the decisive reason was that Terren Meyer had shown no reaction whatsoever.
Terren hated him. He took offense at Leopold’s every small action, avoided having conversations with him, and behaved as though Leopold Delua were the most vile person in the world.
He had felt wronged by it. He had told himself it was a problem with Terren’s personality. Honestly, he suspected he’d believed that somewhere deep down.
He dislikes me even though I’ve done nothing wrong, and he’s directing his warped anger at the wrong person. The ones tormenting Terren Meyer aren’t me, so his anger has the wrong target.
But that wasn’t it.
Watching Terren react to being randomly targeted and provoked as though it were so routine it had become natural — he’d wanted to ask him.
What kind of life have you been living?
What have you been through, to the point where you show not even a flicker of a reaction to something like this?
His heart beat hard. At first, he had been angry at the students of the Academy.
Later, he resented himself for not having recognized the situation sooner.
And later still — Terren Meyer’s words came back to him.
“What is it that Your Highness truly wants? Is the moral superiority you gain through hypocrisy your only purpose?”
Right. He had known, in truth.
He had known perfectly well that Terren Meyer was not treated well at the Academy.
He had known that everyone talked poorly of him.
He had known Terren was being bullied, and this year he had come to know that it had reached a severity where blades were drawn.
And yet he had given it no particular thought. Why? Because Terren Meyer had nothing to do with him. Because he was a commoner who had to rise above malice on his own. Because he hated Leopold.
Three years ago, the young boy he had discovered when he visited the Ruden territory had been trampled and broken here without mercy.
All of it was the work of Leopold Delua.
Leopold hated two-faced people. Those who groveled before him and then straightened their spines the moment they passed an elderly commoner on the street — they made him genuinely sick.
But the state he was in now was no different from every single person he had despised.
He had watched Terren’s suffering from a distance. He had arrogantly looked down on everything from above and been content with it. He had not even been aware of how ugly his own behavior was.
Perhaps it was because he had grown up only seeing those who smiled graciously to his face while doing filthy things beneath the surface. He had come to resemble those scheming, treacherous kinds of people to the bone. Like the foolish ones who could not see another person as a person.
The moment he realized that, even the small remaining resentment toward Terren melted away like snow. Hearing his sharp verbal attacks no longer stirred any feeling in him. Only one side of his chest felt cold.
Guilt. He gasped under the rush of emotion — but soon realized that this too was self-deception. His own contradictions struck him as absurd, so Leopold simply buried it all. He knew that even an apology would surely seem like nothing but hypocrisy to Terren.
A cold wind cut between the trees. The forest smelled of wood and wind. Even after the swordsmanship practice with Terren, his tangled thoughts remained unchanged.
Leopold said he would drop by the royal palace soon to look for the book that contained the legend of the Sword Master. Terren’s delight was visible. He looked happier than he had on any day since that one when he had choked himself like a madman and burst into laughter.
The royal palace isn’t exactly a place he’d want to go out of his way to visit — but if it makes him look like that.
Then how would he react to this?
“The students who said those outrageous things in front of you earlier are going to be disciplined. I’m thinking of having them go home to their territories and rest for a few months.”
Terren shot him a contemptuous look.
“You must have been deeply wounded. If that rumor bothers you so much, stop talking to me. Everything will resolve itself neatly.”
Even when he’s doing this for him. But by now, Leopold felt no particular sting even at that.
“If you want something, say it.”
“Edmund Lafel is the eldest son of a marquess family. The Marquess of Lafel would be the de facto ruler of Delua’s central-south. Are you certain you want to make an enemy of him?”
Terren asked an unexpected question. Leopold grabbed Terren, who was sitting in the dirt in a rather ungainly fashion, and pulled him up.
Of course he knocks the hand away. That alone was enough to make cool, measured words come out of his mouth.
“It’s obviously not an ideal situation. But who would object when a prince issues a disciplinary order at the Royal Academy?”
“The grounds for the discipline being that he insulted a mere commoner?”
“Not a commoner — he insulted me.”
Terren gave him yet another contemptuous look. It stung a little, but Leopold held it in and continued.
“And — will you tell me whenever someone picks a fight with you?”
“Give me a reason.”
“Because I want to punish them.”
“All of a sudden?”
At the puzzled question, Leopold answered shamelessly.
“Yes, all of a sudden.”
