Editor 89

Final Exam (3)

Dione and Cleio were only able to meet after lunch. Having attended the banquet for distinguished guests, it seemed she had finished her own socializing.

The whining Behemoth left a compliment to Cleio, saying, ‘That was quite a show, as far as shows go,’ and went off for the afternoon’s territory inspection.

The two settled in the practice room at the very end of the third floor of the lecture building, where the radiator was broken.

It was a practice room that few students used, as the stairs leading up were oddly twisted; it was one of the corners where Arthur often took naps.

Students or assistants who wanted to watch were gathered by the window of the large lecture hall close to the parade ground. The practice room had only the two of them.

Drip, drip

Cleio poured warm chai into her and Dione’s tin cups. The fragrant scents of cinnamon, cardamom, clove, and nutmeg spread into the cold air.

“Thank you.”

Dione, who took her hand out of her muff with thin gloves on, accepted the cup without hesitation.

It was fascinating that even an ordinary enamel cup looked luxurious when she held it.

The dark green outfit made Dione’s pearl-like skin stand out even more. Lifting the camel-colored fox fur draped over her shoulders elegantly, Dione remarked.

“Mm. This chai smells wonderful.”

“Mrs. Minton in the kitchen is quite skilled, you see.”

“It feels like my body is thawing.”

Even though she was wrapped in fur, Dione, who had been in the cold all day, looked chilled. Cleio opened a circle and invoked a spell.

Her own toes, not covered by her coat, had started to feel cold as well, so it was a good excuse.

Today, with ether sensitives running wild throughout the school, there was no danger of attracting attention for using a little magic.

Cleio softly recited an incantation.

Since it only needed to be warm enough for the two of them, her tone was also quiet. As if reciting a sweet poem to a dear companion.

“<The flame shone ever brighter,

And my spring day drew ever nearer.>8)”

Even after her voice had changed, it was still clear and cool as a frosty morning, so when she spoke such poetic lines, it sounded like singing.

When with Cleio, magic felt overwhelmingly beautiful, more than just a useful means.

Such sentimentalism was unfamiliar to Dione, a realist.

‘Besides, the one actually using the magic isn’t the least bit sentimental herself.’

Soon, the inside of Cleio’s circle felt as warm as if a bonfire had been lit.

With their chairs drawn close enough for their knees to almost touch, the golden light of ether encircled them, making it truly feel like sitting by a fire.

Dione said, “This is quite nice. Even if your shoulders are still broad, your manners toward a lady are improving,” not clear if it was criticism or praise, and smiled gently.

Perhaps because of the flickering light or her makeup, Dione’s cheeks looked a faint pink.

The beautiful, fresh lady, with a smiling face, spoke in a voice colder and calmer than the outside air.

“Now, tell me why you agreed to Ezra’s foolish bet. You, who care only for earth and alcohol and nothing else, wouldn’t have put on a show out of competitiveness.”

“A lady’s eyes cannot be deceived….”

“Oh, come now, haven’t we worked together more than a day or two?”

While the swordsmanship exam continued at the parade ground, she summarized the investigation plan. As a result, a deep wrinkle appeared on Dione’s lovely brow.

“Hey, Ray. Big things are important, but think again if there isn’t another magician worth recruiting. If you go to that bastard’s lab, you’ll find a whole wall of fairy tale books. If you regret it after seeing, it’ll be too late. He’s a level 6 magician with the mind of a five-year-old.”

“Well, what can I do now? I’m really glad my hair is just common brown. If I’m not the one leaking things to Aslan, I wouldn’t mind even cutting off some hair.”

“Phew, all right. I don’t know if Ezra is a good choice, but he’s certainly not someone who would side with Aslan. Giving away a sample that came into his hands is unimaginable for him.”

“Even if he’s lured by new research achievements?”

“He’s… just too different in what he wants to achieve with magic compared to normal people, that’s why he’s crazy. He became a magician to create magical beasts; he’s the only one in all of Dernier continent. He has no interest in ether levels or humans.”

“For someone who claims to dislike him like a bug, you know him quite well.”

“Ugh, don’t even mention it. He can’t even remember people’s names, but he whined so much about wanting to create a magical beast with my hair color. For two years, he’s been following me around, rambling about his ambitions, enough for me to memorize them! Now, what whim is making him bother you?”

Murderous intent appeared on Dione’s face as she ground her teeth.

In the end, Ezra had somehow managed to get Dione’s hair and become her lifelong enemy.

But thanks to that, Cleio could completely let go of any suspicion toward Ezra.

‘Someone who causes such spectacular accidents in the open and whose actions can’t be controlled wouldn’t fit with a secret organization.’

And whether Ezra truly wanted Dione’s hair for experiments or not, it seemed reasonable to hear other people’s testimonies.

‘With his mental age, maybe that’s how he treats classmates he likes.’

As Cleio’s easygoing thoughts continued, the ringing voice of the assistant, amplified through a magical device, echoed through the building.

“First-year swordsmanship finals. Arthur Leogunan, Isiel Kishion. Please enter the testing ground.”

When the two names were called, a tremendous cheer swept over the school.

Before anyone noticed, the observation seats were almost full. On the four-tiered stone steps circling the edge of the parade ground, servants, staff, local residents, and onlookers were gathered close together.

Since the appearance of Barg and the opening of the Mnemosyne Gate, public interest in magic and swordsmanship had become palpable.

Even with white breath from the cold, everyone looked excited. The competition was clearly a big spectacle.

“As expected, those two are left for the first-year finals.”

“That’s right. In terms of skill alone, those two have already far surpassed the regular knights of the Capital Defense Corps.”

Arthur wore a practice sword instead of Beg’s sword, and Isiel also carried the same weapon as Arthur instead of her usual Melamid’s sword.

The two exchanged polite greetings as in the textbook, then immediately began their bout.

Their match, with years of practiced coordination, looked more like a kind of sword dance than a fight with weapons.

The dance of two people.

Isiel, gripping the longsword with one hand, thrust it toward Arthur’s face without hesitation.

Arthur defended against Isiel’s blow, and she immediately twisted her wrist to slash at Arthur’s torso.

Clang—

Without even a trace of sword energy, the two dull, iron-hued practice swords trembled as they clashed.

Arthur, without hesitation, stepped closer and used the base of his sword’s blade to hook and flick Isiel’s sword away.

All these movements happened in an instant.

Light-footed Isiel retreated silently to the edge of the testing ground, and Arthur also stepped back to catch his breath.

Unless one was a formal knight, one probably couldn’t even grasp what had happened in those few seconds.

‘What just happened?’

‘They went shashasha, then flashed?’

‘I couldn’t keep up after the third exchange.’

‘Ugh, you too? Try using on your eyes.’

At the judges’ table for the afternoon, Professor Rosa Pehite, in charge of lower years, and Professor George Naor, in charge of upper years, were seated.

The head of the Capital Defense Corps, Pierce Klagen, was supposed to attend as an external judge, but his seat remained empty.

Because he wasn’t there, the atmosphere at the judges’ table was rather cheerful.

In the afternoon, Assistant Calvin, holding a horn, also watched the matches with shining eyes.

Pop pop—

Arthur, moving steadily, struck Isiel twice in succession.

Isiel leaped into the air, changed her stance in midair, and brought her sword down toward Arthur’s shoulder.

Swish—

Arthur’s clothes and skin were lightly grazed.

Without any agitation, he stepped his left foot back, then swung his sword upward from below to attack Isiel.

Even though the movement was incredibly fast, Arthur’s motions looked relaxed and deliberate, as if in slow motion.

Voom—

Swish!

Arthur’s sword sliced off a handful of Isiel’s hair as she quickly dodged. The red light scattering in the sunlight looked like flames.

That was the beginning.

Arthur, without lifting both feet off the ground, took measured steps and faced Isiel using basic techniques.

‘His level is the same, but… compared to when he sparred with Professor Rosa, it’s a world of difference. Is he a monster?’

Clang clang clang clang.

Clang!

Like the petals’ blades encountered in the dungeon, Isiel’s sword strikes surged from all directions, light yet sharp.

Arthur, smoothly parrying the barrage like flowing water, finally delivered the finishing blow. It was a straightforward downward slash.

Clang— Screeeech.

The two weapons locked head-on. Isiel barely managed to block Arthur’s strike.

Driven to the edge of the testing ground, her wrist trembled, but she barely kept hold of her sword.

Arthur stepped back first, and Isiel couldn’t lift her dangling arm.

The result was clear.

Professors Rosa and George quickly agreed. Soon, Assistant Calvin announced the result.

“Arthur Leogunan. Victory. First-year winner: Arthur Leogunan.”

Even though most hadn’t seen what happened, people clapped and cheered. Here and there, Arthur’s name was chanted.

“As expected, Prince Arthur is unmatched. Honestly, there were times I wondered why you chose him, Ray, but maybe you have a discerning eye?”

“Well… just being good with a sword doesn’t mean you can achieve everything.”

“But a prince with such rich blond hair, blue eyes, and precise swordsmanship is a different story. Sometimes, certain illusions become the very foundation of power.”

“Is that so…?”

“Oh, come on, Ray! Maybe you’ve gotten used to him and feel nothing, but if you asked people in front of Antario Bridge, hardly one in a hundred wouldn’t call him incredibly handsome!”

Of course, Arthur’s appearance was suitable for a protagonist. Still, his attire was sloppy and his hair looked like a bird’s nest, so such descriptions sounded somewhat awkward.

‘The foundation of power, huh.’

As Cleio couldn’t quite accept it, Dione’s tone heated up.

“He’s not my type, but once someone like that gets older and fills out, his impression will be even stronger. It’s a promising face.”

“In terms of looks alone, isn’t the crown prince a step above? Hm.”

“Oh, you can’t compare him. Someone whose very appearance makes you feel it’s sacrilege to even look up at him can’t be a light tea-time topic.”

Even as she kept talking, Dione was busy observing outside.

Lifting her opera glasses adorned with jewels, like she was watching a performance, the lady exclaimed in admiration.

“The next bout hasn’t even started yet, but is there something worth seeing?”

She explained the people visible through her lenses one by one.

“This is more fun for me than sword fighting. There are quite a few different faces in the afternoon audience compared to the morning. The usual noble council socialites are there, but even among the commoners’ council, some from the radical faction have come. These are people who haven’t yet expressed support for any prince.”

Looking where Dione’s fan pointed, several men with relatively modest attire and neatly groomed hair and beards were awkwardly gathered in the back row.

They seemed unfamiliar with such gatherings.

“The one without a hat among them is Representative Gaston Pallach of the People’s Union Party. He was an activist for ‘The Banner’ during his school days. He left before the organization became radical.”

“It’s surprising that a former activist would come to watch a bunch of princes and nobles’ children take exams.”

“Exactly. Hmm, maybe the lottery ticket you bought has a higher chance of winning than expected.”

‘Lottery ticket’ referred to Arthur. Dione’s blue eyes seemed to be calculating complex probabilities.

“We won’t know until the drawing.”

“Maybe I should buy a share of that lottery, too.”

“You’re already practically co-buying with me. But if there’s a loss, I’ll take sole responsibility, so don’t worry.”

“What’s that? I’ll have to add a special clause to the contract.”

Dione tapped Cleio’s arm and laughed. But Cleio was serious.

If the story reached the right conclusion, she would have everything; if she failed, the world would end.

This was the turn of the century.

There were people who desired change, more than those who resisted it.

Now that the revolutionary spark within Albion had died down, those seeking transformation within the system would need a focal point.

Arthur was a symbol worthy of attention.

8) “Winter,” Alfred Tennyson.