By Zephyria 
The boy gazed at me with a pale face.
His neatly brushed and loosely tied hair hung long down his back, and the sideburns that fell long in front of his ears, trailing down past his collarbone, were similar to those from the Central Plains.
However, Edwin’s lavender hair and crimson gold irises were unusually colored. It was just after class, and the setting sun made the colors even more mystical.
“Do I look like I want to fight you?”
“Don’t you?”
He couldn’t say no with his own mouth. I had no intention of provoking him, so I simply stood in a firm stance and looked at him.
The distance between Edwin and me was exactly eight paces. He had entered my striking range. If I took a half-step and struck with the subtlety of the Heavenly Wind, drawing my sword and swinging, his head would be severed in one second.
I was curious if I was also within his range.
It seemed that my reaction was not what he had expected.
The way he walked, stepping firmly on the Yongcheon acupoint instead of his heel or toe, was a gait meant to suppress his rising energy. What could a child walking with such suppressed steps say? He must have been trying to vent his anger somehow.
But I wasn’t confident in fighting with words.
“I’m curious too, Senior.”
I looked up at the silent boy. For young children, a difference of one or two years in age created a significant gap. My gaze was lower than his, so I had to look up at his golden eyes. Even when he lowered his head, I could clearly see his face and expression.
He brushed his unruly bangs back with his hand. Only then did he speak.
“About what?”
“About how you fight.I felt as if I could grasp the boy, Edwin’s, contemplation with my hands.
He had never experienced a proper sparring match.
From birth, he had faced his own brother as an invisible enemy, and he had faced opponents he couldn’t punch while they taunted and sneered. How could one call it a fight when they used money and family prestige?
Since the boy was silent and still, I decided to just ask what I was curious about.
Somehow, it felt like he would answer honestly.
“So, what Circle are you?”
“Fifth Circle.”
“If you’re Fifth Circle, how does that compare to Swordsmanship?”
“Top-tier Sword Expert.”
“What’s the highest Circle?”
“Are you taking a lesson from me now?”
I couldn’t help but laugh at his suddenly fierce gaze after answering so well. No. I replied, shaking my head slightly, and Edwin closed his mouth again. He seemed to be contemplating something again, so I let him be and looked around while standing in front of him.
While the trees in the Swordsmanship Department were all tall and large, those in the Department of Magic were shorter. Even if they were perennials, they were more common than those in the Swordsmanship Department.
It looked like someone had played with fire here, as there were circular scorch marks visible here and there.
I imagined the people who might have lit a bonfire and had a party. It was hard to picture.
The boy, who had been lost in thought, looked straight at me. I could sense the gaze of an ordinary boy who didn’t train martial arts without even activating my Qi sense, so I immediately met his eyes. He said in a firm voice,
“You’ll only fix that arrogant attitude if you experience it properly. Alright, let’s do it. A fight.”
“Yes.”
“—I said a fight, not sparring, do you understand? I’m going to burn you from head to toe.”
“When is the date?”
“…I’ll tell you after the Professor approves it, so stop asking. Don’t annoy me.”
He seemed embarrassed for asking something he couldn’t answer immediately. He let out a small sigh. However, to my ears, which had amplified my Qi sense, expecting an attack at any moment from the instant we were alone, his breathing sounded loud and fierce.
Seeing him ask to borrow the training ground before even having one match, it didn’t seem like he would attack immediately, so I nodded in greeting, turned, and left. It was as if he would collapse and die if I stayed any longer, given how much he disliked me.
I was curious, and I had obtained a good opportunity for a match, so a part of my heart felt pleased.
I had heard others talk, and thought it wasn’t true, but Edwin’s words and demeanor were indeed very similar to Young Master Moyong. He was also a man who would sigh and get annoyed like that, only to have his mood completely melt away after one sparring match.
Young boys naturally grow up fighting.
After dinner, Marianne quietly came to see me, and we talked for a while.
Edwin had called me and asked with great concern if I had any difficulties. I told him there were no major issues and that we had resolved things through conversation, so he didn’t need to worry. Hearing that, Marianne paced back and forth from one side to the other for a long time, fussing, and then asked a strange question.
“Did the ‘honey trap’ really work?”
“A honey trap? What kind of absurd talk is that?”
“No, today you suddenly came in, not like usual, but bursting through the door with wet hair, a glowing face, like someone who had just been blessed with holy water, breathing heavily like this, and your clothes were clinging to you…”
“What are you talking about? I didn’t do that.”
“No, you, like, sigh… and then you brushed your face with your hand, and then suddenly swept your hair back!”
“It was because it was bothersome. My hair was wet and getting in my eyes. Besides, no matter how young I am, I’m a man, does a honey trap make sense? I wiped my face because it was sweaty. Don’t say strange things.”
According to the child, I had been so lewd during class today that I was like a yokai that eats people’s livers, and she was reprimanded to think of my age, receiving a polite apology.
Although we didn’t have many opportunities for private conversations, I knew Marianne was unusually excitable among her friends. Even when she spouted nonsense, I let it pass with a sigh.
She fussed about how I managed to run from the third training ground in the east to that classroom, how many minutes it took, and whether I was even human, as we walked through the garden where flowers were just beginning to bloom.
It was nice not to feel lonely, walking with a talkative and cheerful child by my side.
❖ ❖ ❖
During advanced Swordsmanship class, when I met Rubel, I asked him why he had given me the notes. He earnestly requested that I not misunderstand, as he hadn’t given them with any ulterior motive.
As expected, Shayden’s words weren’t always right.
Rubel said he had painstakingly reorganized the notes, hoping they would be of help to me, so I replied that they had been very helpful. Knowing that he hadn’t intentionally flaunted his status as a prince, my heart felt relieved and pleased.
Although I already had a completed set of notes, studying for my own sake and studying for exams were different matters, so I tried not to slack off during my elective World History class.
However, I couldn’t help but feel more relaxed than before, and my gaze was drawn to the delicate illustrations in the textbook.
Sierren’s approach to art and literature was entirely different from that of the Central Plains.
Though I knew nothing about art myself, the paintings from the Central Plains, often hung on walls and considered precious, were frequently ink wash paintings characterized by large empty spaces and strong, stern brushstrokes. I also remembered the detailed landscapes, seen from high above or looking up at mountains and rivers, with their subtle gradations of tone.
However, the fairy tale illustrations here depicted cute animals and flowers drawn with thick lines, and in books called comic books, where pictures told stories, round figures that looked like people or dolls with arms and legs occupied small panels, hopping and moving with wit.
There were also works that astonishingly depicted real people with incredibly delicate and elegant lines, as if they were captured on canvas.
The most wondrous and astonishing among them were the last ones, those that closely resembled the real thing.
I myself had had my portrait painted several times since childhood. It took a full month for the artisan painters to capture the figures on canvases as tall as themselves.
Sitting or standing in the same position with the same posture without moving, passing the tedious time with small talk, it was also interesting to watch the canvas being completed one part at a time each day.
I had no opportunity to meet painters from the Central Plains, so direct comparison was difficult, but I remembered being amazed at how arduous their profession was when I learned they prepared their paints by grinding them with oil themselves.
He had said he would paint one this year as well, but with so much work, I didn’t know when he would find the time.
Curious, I asked Shayden how many portraits Count Rose had. He said they couldn’t be counted, but that one was painted each year.
In summer, the weather is too hot, making it unsuitable for using paints, and wearing elaborate clothes is heavy and hot, so portraits are mainly painted in winter. This was exactly the same as Ernhardt’s method, so I decided I should visit my family home in winter, as it seemed to be the custom of this country.
During the Imperial Genealogy class this time, Professor Calypse Agrigent, who was already gaunt, entered the classroom looking even more unsteady than usual. The gaze that seemed to look down on others also lacked strength.
He seemed to be trying to hide his physical discomfort by forcing himself, but several Swordsmanship Department students, including myself, who had good Eye Force, noticed and looked concerned.
Professor Agrigent proceeded with the lesson as usual, even with a slightly more cracked voice.
Seeing him, I was filled with admiration, thinking that one must possess such pride and sense of duty to handle this kind of information.
“As everyone knows, there are currently five Duke families in the Sierran Empire. Duke of the Forest, Widrow; Duke of the Sword, Kiadris; Duke of the River, Yeldidus; Duke of the Plains, Valentia; and Duke of Iron, Grimsbane. These five great Dukes conceived reforms for all people standing on the continent 327 years ago, and after 42 years of hardship, they created the Sierran Empire of today.”
Names that had sounded foreign just a month ago were now familiar. My right index finger tingled for some reason.
“…Four of the five Dukes commute to the Imperial Palace and hold positions as current chancellors, but Duke Carlos Widrow submitted his retirement request just last month. The one who can now bear the name of Widrow is…”
Perhaps it was easier to talk about the Grand Dukes than to collect and learn information about everyone below the Count, or perhaps it was because they already knew more than half of it, but the students’ concentration was high.
I knew there were five Dukes in Sierran, but I hadn’t paid much attention to their names, so I was just jotting them down in my notebook without much thought when I suddenly felt a sense of incongruity.