By Zephyria 
April arrived.
In intermediate swordsmanship class, if they had learned the basics of Imperial Swordsmanship, forms, and styles in February, they learned how to apply Imperial Swordsmanship in March.
As April arrived, Maelo Sanson declared he would now teach how to counter Imperial Swordsmanship with Imperial Swordsmanship. Discarding all sword styles used until now, they ingrained it into their bodies so they could perform Imperial Swordsmanship even in urgent situations.
Sparring sessions consisting solely of Imperial Swordsmanship were linear and lacked excitement, but they were exceptionally good for correcting ingrained bad habits.
I was reprimanded for the gap between my steps being too wide, preventing sufficient power from being applied.
When using the Changcheon Muae Sword, the power imbued in the swordplay, the force of the outward strikes, had compensated for this previously unknown flaw.
In the Potion Making Practice, or Alchemy class, the goal was to create an oil that could soften skin and hair.
Having learned how to make a sunblock ointment in February and a scar removal ointment in March, I wondered if this focus on grooming was characteristic of intermediate Alchemy.
When I conveyed this question to Cedric, he burst into hearty laughter and kindly replied, “Alchemy is money, my friend.”
“…Excuse me?”
“Al-che-my. The study of making gold, meaning making things that turn into money. Money is not a sin, and there’s nothing wrong with creating luxury goods that many people need. What matters is whether the money earned is used correctly.”
“Used correctly, you say…”
“You don’t have the skill right now to research the treatment of rare diseases through Alchemy. To conduct such important research, a great deal of money is needed. What you are learning now will serve as stepping stones for that.”
I quietly nodded in agreement. A child from a neighboring group asked in a mischievous voice, “What if you earn money but can’t develop those great medicines?”
“That also has its own meaning. Whether it’s a good potion or a bad potion, there must be a place to sell it to be sold or made. Even little ones like you are contributing to expanding the Alchemy market.”
I caught a glimpse of Damian nodding in agreement.
…Cedric suddenly seemed different to me.
I reflected on my lax attitude and became engrossed in the task of meticulously grinding the ingredients before me and dissolving them in oil.
Briana Casablanca announced that this month’s lectures would cover the geography of the Shatun Desert and the Five Kingdoms.
Just as she had lectured on the Yuil Mountains first, she placed the Shatun Desert at the top of her lecture list.
“The name Shatun Desert was given by the people who live in the desert. In the Creation Myth of the Nine Gods, the sea was created on the first day, the land on the second, and the sun and moon on the third. Desert dwellers claim that on this third day, the sun was born before the moon.”
It was an old tale that even I, who wasn’t particularly interested in myths, knew well. Briana placed a few dots on the left side of the map drawn on the blackboard.
“The sun, born in haste, was too hot and completely burned the land that was born before it. The goddess who created the sun quickly trapped the heat in her skirt and hid it in the west. In reality, the Shatun Desert gets hotter as you go west, and some sand boils and sizzles.”
A student raised their hand. Briana allowed the question.
“Has anyone crossed the Shatun Desert?”
“Of course. Fanatics seeking the traces of the gods call that land sacred. It takes a full month one way to travel to the Sanctuary of the Sun, even starting from the edge of the Kingdom of Felix, but there is constant traffic.”
She added that while the rest of the Five Kingdoms, excluding Floyd, bordered the Shatun Desert, only the Kingdom of Felix possessed a truly desert-like expanse. Biban and Yulan were unaffected by the Shatun Desert due to their high mountains, and Owen was more deeply shaded by the Yuil Mountains.
It was only a little later that I realized the dots Briana had drawn on the map indicated the oases of the Shatun Desert.
However, she warned that deserts are always changing, and the location of oases also shifts, so caution is necessary, and I nodded.
Curiosity suddenly struck me, and I touched Shayden’s hand with my quill.
“Why?”
“Do the Special Imperial Knights go out into the Shatun Desert?”
“Uh, they go near Owen. They don’t go as far as the Sanctuary mentioned.”
“I see.”
Then it likely wouldn’t have much relevance to me. I took meticulous notes in preparation for the final exams.
Briana informed us of the locations of the oases and the various holy relics. She mentioned that the traces left by the gods were as immense as if they were not of this world, and I felt a desire to see them someday.
In Basic First Aid, Ray Gibson began to reveal his true colors.
I should have known when he started making us go underwater with reeds in our mouths. As we began learning how to deal with various distress situations, my thoughts on first aid began to shift.
I wondered if he was someone who wished for children to get into distress. However, as I listened, there was much useful information. Learning about edible and inedible moss was at least more interesting than bandaging a log.
The Practical Flying Dagger Technique class itself remained fun and engaging, but I enjoyed the time spent alone with Wilton after class even more.
We learned a Stealth technique, not of the Central Plains style, but of Sierren’s style.
In the Central Plains, internal energy was used to obscure the surrounding Qi sense. However, Sierren’s Stealth technique involved hiding behind shadows and regulating one’s breathing.
I initially thought such a method couldn’t deceive the eyes of a master, but when Wilton closed his eyes for a moment and demonstrated, I was greatly surprised. After searching for him for over an hour, unaware he had climbed onto the tree behind me, I became desperate to learn his secret technique. Like the Flying Dagger Technique, it couldn’t be learned instantly.
I behaved diligently, dreaming of the day I too would reach a higher realm.
Thursdays were relatively quiet.
Since the Golem had recognized the Qi Cultivation method, there was little for me to do. While Douglas or Boulder would sit for over five hours during their Breathing and regulating energy sessions, now they would return after an hour or two for Q&A and then engage in personal study.
Thursday afternoons were usually spent with Shayden. Rubel, I was told, had to study Imperial Studies and Diplomacy during that time and was very busy. I was almost relieved that the child who wanted to monopolize all my free time had other commitments.
Among the classes I attended, aside from Maelo Sanson’s lectures, Introduction to Monsters was the most enjoyable. Thanks to reconciling with Rubel, we would sit together and exchange notes on various topics.
He still occasionally pestered me to stroke his head, but he generally maintained a reserved demeanor.
Especially during class, he would focus diligently on his notes without getting distracted, and he enjoyed discussing methods of dealing with monsters with me throughout the weekend. It was interesting and fun to ponder things like which form of Imperial Swordsmanship would be best when facing a Troll.
And the flower bud in the pot Jenny had given me ripened.
Shayden was, of course, the first to spot the bud. Ever since the bright yellow bud appeared, Shayden visited my reception room morning and night. Once before breakfast, and once before bed.
It wasn’t much different from usual, so there was no awkwardness. I, too, found myself looking at the pot more frequently.
One day near the end of April, Shayden whispered with an excited tone from the morning, “It’s today. It’s going to bloom today.”
“How do you know that?”
“Look, the front of this bud is opening.”
To me, it didn’t look much different from yesterday, but I figured it must be true if the child said so. We agreed to come back early today to watch the flower bloom, so I finished dinner early and returned.
After sunset, I always turned on the Magic Lamp brightly when entering the reception room.
Today, I drew back the curtains to let the moonlight into the room as well. The cool night breeze coming through the slightly open window made the flower stem, placed on a shelf near the window, sway gently.
Shayden and I pulled up light, high chairs and sat down to look at the pot.
This was the first time I had done something like this at my age. Instead of looking around at the already bloomed flowers and then going off to find my own tasks, holding my breath while waiting for this small life to bloom felt incredibly ticklish.
But when the flower bud burst open with a ‘tak’ sound, I watched without blinking.
It was beautiful.
There were no words to describe it.
I had expected the flower to be bright yellow, like the bud wearing the soft moonlight on its head, but the inner petals were a clear, light pink. It had yellow stamens, and an unusual amount of pollen made the petals look soft and downy.
Shayden asked in a small voice, as if facing a newborn animal, “Do you know the name of this flower?”
“…No.”
“Prodil Aster. …It’s a type of flower that changes color depending on its surroundings.”
“Oh, I see.” I touched the tip of the delicate petal with my fingertip in wonder. The slightly moist petal trembled, shedding pollen. I saw yellow pollen dust my fingertip.
Shayden said that this flower blooms between late spring and early summer, and he was happy to see it before summer arrived. When I asked if he usually liked growing plants, he said no, but added, “Isn’t it pretty?” with a smile.
As I gazed at the flower for a long time, seeing the child’s wistful expression, I casually asked, “Does this flower have a flower language?”
“It does.”
“What is it?”
“…Awkward first love.”
When I moved to touch the flower again, Shayden brushed my hand away. Without bothering the flower further, I examined Shayden’s face.
The pink of the flower was reflected in his eyes, so intently was the child gazing at it.
“…Most Asters have flower meanings related to love. Pink means awkward first love, yellow means the joy of love, red means passionate love… That’s why people also use this flower for Love fortune-telling.”
148 – 148.
It was the first I’d heard of it. Were there fortune-tellers in Sierun too?
“Love fortune-telling?”
“Haven’t you done it? Plucking petals one by one, counting ‘He loves me, he loves me not’.”
“⋯I’ve heard of it.”
To count flower petals for such a frivolous act seemed like needless torment for the flower, but I remembered. I recalled how Jegal Amugae once piled flowers high on the tea table and muttered to himself. I wondered what he was counting, but now I realized—was he doing love fortune-telling? It was amusing that the same kind of people existed in the Central Plains and Sierun.
Seeing my smile, Shayden, who had smiled back, casually asked, “How is the Second Prince these days?”
“⋯Rubel?”
“Yeah.”
Was it intentional to bring up Rubel in the middle of such a conversation? I was momentarily flustered and couldn’t answer easily. Shayden’s gaze remained fixed on the potted plant. I suppressed the urge to ask Shayden if he, too, knew Rubel’s heart, and what he thought of it. I had learned from Marianne’s situation that I shouldn’t rely on Shayden for all my human relationships. After some thought, I replied, “⋯It’s not much different from before. Why?”
“Just, you know, worrying.”
Shayden turned to look at me. I asked with a smile, “Are you still worried?”
“A little. I’m glad you’re alright.”
As Shayden returned to his room, he asked if he could take the ripening seeds once the flower withered. Thinking that this lovely flower would want him to, I gladly permitted it.
❖ ❖ ❖
The book made of orc hide felt new with every touch. It was like cowhide, yet also like crocodile skin, difficult to describe. If one considered it merely the hide of a beast, the lustrous, dark brown leather with a faint green sheen could be seen as sturdy and handsome. However, the orc depicted in the book, standing on two legs and walking, was too similar to a human, and the unsettling feeling I had when I first saw a flesh mask did not easily disappear.
Steven explained the book’s contents with his usual kind voice and gentle demeanor. “Just like the book you hold in your hands, many monsters leave behind valuable by-products. That’s why we don’t completely drive out monsters beyond the Yuil Mountains and build high walls.”
Before the midterm exams, we had learned about the classification of monsters by size and their physical structures. Lately, we were studying monster weaknesses and the value of their by-products. The deployment of many knights when hunting monsters was for safety, but also for greater profit. For example, a troll’s weaknesses were its head and heart. It died if its neck was severed in one go, severing the connection between head and heart, but it also died if its head and heart were crushed sequentially. It couldn’t regenerate if its heart was destroyed before its head fully recovered, or its head destroyed before its heart fully recovered, or if it was simply burned to ashes. However, whether knights or mercenaries, they would sever a troll’s head in a single strike. This was because troll blood was used as an important magical and alchemical ingredient. Damaging the hide was not preferred as it wasted precious blood. It was an arrogant act, only possible if one didn’t see monsters as mere prey.
If a troll, about 3 meters tall, had appeared in the Central Plains, twenty first-rate martial artists would have struggled to defend a single castle, yet here, the people of Sierun treated them like a tonic, no different from deer antlers. As I let out a short laugh, Rubel nudged my hand with his. ‘Just because.’ It was obvious he was asking why I was laughing, so I wrote a short reply in the corner of his notebook. When we first started communicating through writing, I used to doodle in my notebook, but Rubel asked me to write in his, so I ended up writing various things in his notebook. Most of our written exchanges were about trivial matters. What we would eat for dinner, what the professor just said, the noisy chatter of children behind us, things like that.
When the child asked why a few more times, disrupting my listening, I covered his hand with mine to hide it. My intention was to stop Rubel’s hand from moving, but the moment I clasped his hand, I inwardly cursed myself in embarrassment. I had become complacent because Rubel hadn’t tried to hold my hand again. When I released his now still hand, Rubel pulled his hand back onto his desk. I tried hard not to look at his reddened earlobes. The child wrote a word in the corner of my notebook. ‘Will you be in the library this weekend too?’ ‘I think I’ll be studying for the exam with the other children.’ I wrote it in his notebook, and perhaps to avoid disappointing him, I quickly added, ‘We also agreed to organize the draft of the report assignment.’ Rubel nodded quietly. I couldn’t detect any disappointment in his eyes. It was strange to be so concerned now, after so many similar incidents. Feeling awkward looking into his dark eyes, I shifted my gaze to Professor Steven. The professor was explaining how to trap monsters that produced worthless by-products, like goblins, in a fire net and annihilate them all at once. Despite his gentle appearance, everything he said was chilling, which I found quite interesting.
It was almost May. The second year was already past its midpoint. I had become sufficiently accustomed to academy life. I no longer fretted during exam periods. Last year, I would rack my brain in agony on days with memorization subjects, but now, thanks to consistent preparation and review every week, most exams were not difficult. It was also thanks to discovering that every exam had a formula, as Damian had told me, and to Rubel consistently providing me with his notes from last year. Now, the words of children sounded less foreign. As a result, when we gathered in a circle in the library’s small meeting room to prepare for predicted exam answers, I could now contribute my share. Compared to last year, when I knew nothing and just sat there, writing down what the children dictated, I had grown a lot.
“Ugh,” Jenny grumbled, letting out a sigh. “I wish it were the midterm exams.”
“Hmm?”
“I already knew a lot about the Yuil Mountains and the Sierran Empire. But the Shatun Desert and the Five Kingdoms… I’ve never been there, and I have no intention of going.”
“Even though these kingdoms are so close?”
“Yes, I don’t really feel like visiting… Yulan is curious because the resort areas are beautiful, but the other kingdoms are dangerous… I’m someone who values my safety very much.”
Indeed, Owen, where civil war was said to be ongoing, and Felix, where the desert people were said to have poor public security, were not good places for travel. Floyd, which had customs similar to Sierun, was the First Prince’s stronghold, and all the children I knew felt a strange aversion to it.
“Biban has similar customs to Yulan, but you dislike Biban too?”
“The sea and lakes are a bit different. I was born near the Saras River, so I like flowing water. When I look at a calm, still lake, I feel somehow anxious and uneasy.”
The Saras River was a massive river that started between the Sierran capital and the Count Servel family, flowed long and wide, and split the Duke Yeldidus family. It wasn’t just big; it was large enough to easily contain several villages within it, comparable to the Yellow River.
Hearing about the river reminded me of something, and I brought it up. “Speaking of which, the First Prince was said to be getting married this summer, but there’s been no news about it yet.”
“The First Prince? With whom?”
“The Young Lady of the Duke Yeldidus family.”
“Wh-what?”
Only Marianne was truly surprised. Damian and Shayden shrugged, Ivan and Benjamin remained silent, their thoughts unreadable, and Jenny said she had received a slight hint from the Cervelle siblings last winter. Jenny drew three or four circles on her notebook and opened her mouth. “I also heard that something went wrong… and it was postponed until winter.”
“What kind of problem?”
“From the Duke Kiadris family.”
Kiadris? I knew that the only notable figures in that household were Wesley and Edwin. As I couldn’t hide my confusion, Damian explained, “The Duke Kiadris apparently can’t decide on a fiancé, saying, ‘Even though I have daughters born of my own flesh, why are they only looking at Yeldidus?'”
“⋯Hmm.”
“Although they are illegitimate children, they were certainly born of the Duke himself… Moreover, the father of those children lives in the Duke’s mansion. If the Duke personally grants them a single-rank title for marriage, there’s no one who can stop him.”
“Although those two did not enroll in Sierun Academy, they received education suitable for marrying into noble families. They are also around the same age as the Young Lady of Duke Yeldidus.”
Hearing such stories, my thoughts again turned to Rubel. I remembered Shayden’s words that Rubel wouldn’t confess to me. The Emperor’s marriage was different from that of ordinary noble families. Seeing how they coveted the Emperor’s side, each seeking to rise even slightly higher with their comparable power, I thought Rubel, too, would have to enter into such a marriage. Wasn’t that why the child had told me he would restrain himself, give up his feelings, instead of pouring them out to me? I felt fortunate that my uncle had withdrawn early. The confrontation between the two ducal families was troublesome enough; if Valentia were to join that competition, I doubted it would end well.
After chatting about various social gossip for a while, Shayden tapped the table to halt the conversation. “We can talk more about that during our break. For now, let’s study.” He was right. I showed Jenny my World Geography notes. The thought that I could be helpful to the children filled me with pride.