By Zephyria Benjamin, Rubel, and I took turns practicing throwing Flying Daggers with pauses in between. The three of us, all First-Rate Martial Artists, enjoyed ourselves, showing great enthusiasm for learning. Thanks to that, my shoulders and forearms were sore.
After about an hour, Benjamin could hit the center of the target quite well at short distances. As for me, I was still clumsy; if I was lucky, I could hit the edge of the target.
I had to blame myself for carrying Flying Daggers for so long without ever thinking of throwing them. Surely there were countless martial arts incantations in the Central Plains suitable for throwing Flying Daggers, and I regretted not even glancing at them because they didn’t fit the Namgung Family’s style.
Searon’s martial arts generally didn’t have incantations.
Unlike the Central Plains’ method of imbuing each movement with deep meaning, deeply interpreting its form and significance, and meticulously contemplating which acupoints to channel internal energy to with every movement before passing it down to future generations, Searon’s disciples carved their own methods directly into the bodies they used.
They said that by practicing the correct posture multiple times, one would naturally learn it – wasn’t that something an external martial artist would say?
Accumulating and distributing mana drawn from nature felt similar to, yet different from, strengthening the minor meridians. Because I didn’t know how to use the main channels, I had to figure it out on my own, which inevitably slowed down my learning.
If I had been a master of external martial arts, it might have been different, but Namgung martial arts were about intricately manipulating the threads of internal energy. Searon’s martial arts might be simple and convenient in some ways, but they felt utterly awkward to me.
It was no different than living as a right-handed person my whole life and then wielding a sword with my left hand.
“Thank you for teaching me so much.”
“Yes, shall we meet again next Friday at the same time?”
“Won’t you be busy?”
“I’m fine. Um, what about Young Master Claudian?”
“I’d like that too. I gratefully accept your consideration, Senior, and won’t forget it.”
Rubel smiled brightly again.
It was strange how genuinely happy he seemed. After we had worked out together until we were sweating, I suddenly thought that perhaps, given the boy’s noble birth, he didn’t have many close friends among his peers.
Perhaps Benjamin, who was naturally quiet and unreserved in his interactions regardless of status, and I, who was awkward at treating others respectfully because I saw everyone as just children, might have been good companions for a prince.
Thinking about it that way, there was nothing wrong with it. It was only after Shayden’s persistent advice that I learned that taking Maelo Sanson’s time every Friday afternoon was half a source of pride and half a burden. I thought spending time learning Flying Dagger techniques was even better.
Since it was Friday afternoon, we decided to go to a nice restaurant instead of the dormitory cafeteria and meet again after washing up.
I followed Rubel out to the marketplace. At a restaurant where each dish was served elegantly and in order, we talked about what we learned today and about past classes, eventually reaching the topic of my sparring with Edwin.
Rubel asked the same question Marianne had, and I answered him the same way, to which the boy nodded kindly. I couldn’t hide my bewilderment.
“Is there a reason you and Senior Kiadris don’t get along?”
“No, it’s not like that. It’s just… aren’t wizards and swordsmen of the same age supposed to have a sort of rivalry towards each other? It’s good for everyone to get along. I don’t dislike him.”
The boy stammered, flustered.
Come to think of it, Rubel Anti Sierran and Edwin Kiadris were both second-years, both sixteen years old.
The Academy grounds were quite vast, and it was a place where graduates often visited for academic research, so it felt crowded, but if you counted carefully, the enrollment for each year was only about a hundred to three hundred students.
In the Central Plains, people were abundant, so I was accustomed to dealing with a large number of individuals. There were three to four hundred martial artists with the surname Namgung alone, and if you counted the martial artists of the Martial Arts Alliance, it easily exceeded thousands.
How could I not have known the faces of those under my command?
Rubel would be the same. He was a noble of the same age from the country he intended to rule. Even if their departments were different, it would be stranger if they didn’t know each other.
One was a prince of this country, and the other was a talented direct descendant of a great family; their encounters would surely not have been limited to just one or two.
Unlike Edwin, who was rumored to have a bad temper, Rubel was gentle and quiet. It seemed unlikely they would clash, but perhaps that was precisely why they might not get along.
It was a sensitive question to ask if they had ever fought, so I changed the subject.
“Don’t you have meals with Senior Lucilla?”
“Huh? Lucil?”
“Yes. I thought you’d spend your free time together since you take classes together, but it doesn’t seem like it.”
“Ah… We are close, but we’ve been together since birth. Wouldn’t it get a bit tiresome to spend even break times together? She probably prefers hanging out with her own friends rather than me. We don’t have any classes together except for advanced swordsmanship.”
Lucilla Anti Sierran was Rubel Anti Sierran’s twin sister, a person who wore her brown hair tied up high in a single ponytail.
Although they were the same age, they had distinct differences in appearance, so it was rarely confusing.
Besides being different genders, Rubel had a healthy complexion and fair skin, whereas Lucilla had a lustrous, dark complexion like well-baked bread.
And unlike the reserved Rubel, Lucilla’s hearty laughter could be heard frequently within the Academy grounds, making her stand out.
Unlike Rubel, whom I often saw in the library, I had never encountered Lucilla in the library. I could easily guess how she spent her free time.
Benjamin, showing more wit than usual, added, “May I ask what classes you are taking, Senior?”
“Yes, of course. I’m currently taking advanced swordsmanship, practical application of dagger techniques, imperial studies, diplomacy and case study comparisons, introduction to management, hydrology and physics integration, and the geography and climate of the Empire. About seven in total. Lucil is aiming for the position of Commander of the Imperial Knight Order, so she takes more survival classes than I do.”
Shayden had said the Second Prince intended to vie for the throne. The fact that he casually mentioned imperial studies and diplomacy and management suggested he himself had ambitions.
If his twin sister, Lucilla, were to take command of the Imperial Knight Order, a symbol of military power, it would greatly aid him in gaining support.
Thinking this, I cut my food into appropriate sizes and put it in my mouth.
Meanwhile, Benjamin politely asked a few more questions or provided answers.
The meal was pleasant throughout.
From this conversation, I learned that the Second Prince considered the Second Prince becoming Emperor as one possible future, and at the same time, I learned of his ambition to travel across the Empire and see all its lands with his own eyes in his youth.
And I also heard that when he was very young, he wanted to become a historian.
A boy born as the Emperor’s son who dreamed of being a historian.
I wondered if this could be called growing up like a child, and paused my eating. Seeing me stare intently, as if expecting an explanation, Rubel added with a smile,
“When I was little, I couldn’t believe there were people older than my grandfather. Just like young children usually love stories about dragons or witches, I loved any old tales. So, I would read history books and imagine all sorts of things.”
“For example, what kind of things did you imagine?”
“Well, like how I should greet someone if I met a historical figure?”
Rubel listed the historical figures he liked, but when he saw that Benjamin and I mostly looked confused, he stopped.
When asked if there was anything difficult at the Academy or if he needed any help, I answered without hesitation that there wasn’t. Even if there were difficulties, he wouldn’t be able to help with them.
The only thing that troubled me was recalling the date of the next exam, which made my chest feel tight.
He also asked about family relationships. I spoke about the gentle and affectionate family tradition of the Ernhardt family and bragged a little about my sibling.
Benjamin mentioned that his family members were all gruff but were very good at taking care of their meals.
We also heard some private stories about the Emperor and the Third Princess. It sounded like a story about a kind and broad-minded father and a mischievous younger sister, which I found pleasant.
However, Rubel did not speak about his mother, the Empress.
It didn’t seem appropriate to point it out in our not-so-close relationship, and I figured I would surely hear about it in the next class, so I didn’t bring it up and ended the meeting.
❖ ❖ ❖
On the weekend, I immersed myself in classes that required memorizing names, as before.
April had begun.
The climate was milder than in previous years, and the long wisteria vines lining the wide field where basic swordsmanship was taught were starting to bear premature purple buds. Their fragrance was deep and rich, tickling my nose even during class.
It was amusing to see a few people sneeze, “Achoo.”
I thought it would be like living as an immortal if I picked those flowers, fried them with plenty of oil and a few aromatics, and ate them, and my mouth watered.
When I casually asked Shayden about it, he said that here, there was no custom of frying and eating flowers. Instead, they decorated freshly baked sweet bread with fresh flowers.
He also added that wisteria flowers could cause stomachaches if not cooked or fried sufficiently, a fact I hadn’t known as I’d never taken an interest in cooking.
He also teased me about finding the luscious flowers pretty and wanting to eat them.
I almost blurted out that in times when people were so desperate for food that they dug up roots to eat, vine flowers and fruits were precious ingredients, but I held back.
Instead, I said something else.
“I read in a book that if you wash and roast these roots and dry them, they can be used as medicine. Some people drink it as tea for elderly people with joint problems.”
“Really? Is that a custom from Owen’s culture?”
“I’m not sure about that. I don’t remember well.”
Thinking hard, I finished my sentence hesitantly, unsure if the wisteria here was the exact same species as in the Central Plains.
It was always like this when I thought about flora. It was hard to remember that edible and inedible things in the Central Plains and Searon were not the same.
It was akin to my hands and feet embodying the will of Azure Sky without my realizing it.
My roots still remained there.
“No, it doesn’t seem like it. Don’t just pick up and eat anything.”
“I won’t eat it! Or rather, those flowers are ornamental plants. They’re meant to be enjoyed with your eyes, not eaten.”
“Yes, let’s do that.”
It felt as if I had suggested picking the flowers first, so I grumbled, feeling strange, and after class, I continued to gaze up at the flower vines for a long time.
Wisteria flowers are beautiful even in daylight, but they are even more ethereal and lovely at night.
Their color and light seemed to resemble my Mother’s from this land, and also my youngest sibling’s hair.
As I took in such beautiful sights and inhaled the sweet fragrance, other friends of my age also gathered to admire the flowers.
For the next class, they suggested bringing snacks or treats and sharing them during lunch after class, to which I gladly agreed.