Chapter 980: A Face as a Weapon

It was only natural that everyone gathered at the training grounds that evening. The mention of another fight drew interest.

Would it be fierce like before? At least would it be entertaining to watch?

Bearing that kind of expectation and curiosity, the spectators watched as the swordsman and the mage stood facing each other.

The wind blew. Perhaps to announce the coming of spring, it was fresh and light. Looking up, one could see clouds bunching together in the distance, the sort of day when someone with a talent for reading the weather, like Esther, might predict rain within a few days.

Whatever else, today’s weather was clear. Beneath that bright, cloudless sky, the mage opened his mouth.

“I am Nephir Teshir of the Imperial Mage Tower.”

“Right. Your epithet is Mage of Lewd Glances, was it?”

“No! My epithet is ‘He Who Grasps the Morning Star’!”

Ah, so that was it. A mage’s epithet was different from a knight’s.

Something along the lines of “He Who Grips the River” or “He Who Eats the Light,” those sorts of flourishes.

The epithet He Who Grasps the Morning Star came from the school of spells Nephir mainly handled. One more thing: the mage kept his composure better than expected. Instead of wavering at the provocation, he brought out what he had prepared.

“By the time you recognize it and dodge, it’ll be too late. I won’t injure you too badly.”

As he spoke, he began chanting a spell. Enkrid walked forward without even drawing his sword. Both arms hung loose at his sides as he strode on with calm, measured steps. His arms swung back and forth, and Today, hanging from his sword belt, swayed lightly with them.

Tuk— the sound of the scabbard tapping against his thigh in time with his steps.

Scrape, scrape, the sound of scabbard and fabric rubbing together.

Ting, the sound of the ring buckle and stud fixing the scabbard in place striking together.

And in between them, even the faint sound of his cloak fluttering lightly in the wind.

In the sounds, and in his attitude, actions, expression, and gestures, he showed nothing but composure. It was the manner of a man saying, Do whatever you want.

He neither rushed in nor launched a high-speed slash. It was an act impossible to understand, whatever he was thinking.

He was simply walking. Straight forward, walking toward the mage standing ahead.

Among those watching, some showed worry, some discomfort, but most were expectant.

He’ll suddenly vanish and leave an afterimage behind, right? He’ll become too fast for our eyes to follow. While most of them expected exactly that, the trigger phrase flowed from Nephir’s lips.

“Master of light, serenade of Phil de Prodo.”

What did the epithet He Who Grasps the Morning Star mean? It meant he used spells that handled starlight.

A beam of light, far faster than an arrow and fit to rival lightning in speed, flew toward Enkrid’s shoulder.

Jjeong—and it scattered in midair, spraying glimmering fragments like shards of glass in every direction. The broken clusters of light looked like ripples across a lake reflecting sunlight or moonlight.

Rumble—

Then the air gave a fine shiver, and there came the sound of something like heavy iron chains being dragged. With a kwa-woo sound, wind burst up, and his dark green cloak billowed wide.

For an instant, it made Enkrid look twice his size.

The wind that had risen so suddenly vanished just as quickly.

Through the fragments of shattering light, Enkrid walked on in exactly the same posture and at exactly the same pace as before.

The tuk, scrape, ting sounds were unchanged as well. The broken shards of light vanished without a trace soon after.

‘A defensive spell?’

Nephir suspected as much, but Enkrid had simply swung his sword and cut it down. More exactly, he had drawn at an absurd speed, severed the mana that formed the core of the spell, and returned the blade to its scabbard.

The reason it had sounded like heavy chains being dragged across the ground was because the slash had been so fast that the sound followed after it. Even that was this restrained only because he had controlled it.

If he had truly meant to swing in earnest, the air would have burst and thunder harsh enough to tear eardrums would have cracked out.

“So you’re showing off some tricks.”

Nephir Teshir muttered, then chanted another spell. Several beams of light flew in one after another. One became two, two became six, and later whole spheres of light came flying at him.

Enkrid cut and struck down every last one of them. Rumble, click, tuk, ting—the same sounds spread through the training grounds over and over again. To Nephir’s eyes, it did not even look like Enkrid had drawn his sword once.

Then, after he had come close enough not merely for the sword to reach, but for a hand to reach, Nephir Teshir stared at Enkrid with wide eyes, unable to hide his shock, and Enkrid asked in the calmest, steadiest voice imaginable,

“More?”

What more could he even do here? Struggle? Pathetic resistance? Or perhaps die instead and preserve his pride? Though would that really preserve his pride?

Nephir shook his head. His face had gone deathly pale. Whatever Esther had meant by vessel, the gap in skill was plain.

“I lost.”

Nephir looked as though he might go straight to a cliff and throw himself off it. Esther paid him no particular mind.

“That was fun.”

Enkrid said it sincerely. They had been wonderfully concise and direct spells in their power.

Regardless of mana cores or anything else, they were spells full of the intent to strike you, tear you apart, and punch through you.

They had a different flavor from the Astrail master he had faced before. That was why it had been fun.

“Fun?”

Nephir could only mutter in blank disbelief.

“Is that the sort of thing anyone can do?”

Seriana, watching from the side, asked Valmung.

“Not at all. That’s not a skill just anyone can pull off. If it were just enduring it with the body or reading the flow and knocking it aside, there’d be a few. But that? No.”

That was Valmung’s answer. The very spell after it had activated vanished before a slash. He found himself thinking that any mage who carelessly ran their mouth in front of Enkrid was asking for disaster.

Exactly two days after that, the imperial delegation escorting Crang was organized.

“It’s been a while since I traveled anywhere, so this is exciting.”

Standing in front of them, Crang said that with a smile. It was hardly a road one ought to leave for smiling, but if he liked it, then that was that.

“Border Guard will also send support along the route. Go with them.”

Kraiss said his piece and stepped away. If he went all the way to the Empire himself, it would leave the kingdom’s rear too empty. He had decided to stay behind in order to deal with every problem that might arise while the king was absent.

Well, there was also the fact that there was no need for him to take that risk himself.

“If anything happens, we’ll just present them with hell.”

He was also thinking of gathering this side’s strength and preparing for the worst. In any case, Kraiss stayed, and the rest moved.

Five Royal Guards, the delegation from the Empire, and with them Enkrid, Esther, and Rem.

Aside from Nephir’s shoulders drooping especially low and Seriana sticking especially close beside Enkrid as they walked, the start went just as expected.

From time to time, Esther studied the woman called Seriana in detail.

If she wanted to kill her, she could kill her soon enough, but something about the woman bothered her in a strangely subtle way.

It felt as though, somehow, she herself was a step behind. That was simply how it felt. A feeling, nothing more.

“So you were originally a mercenary, then?”

She spoke to Enkrid without any reserve and carried on a conversation with him. It looked as though some strange current flowed between the two of them.

“That’s right.”

Enkrid answered readily as well, dealing with her without hesitation.

“That’s remarkable. You started as a mercenary, then as a soldier, and now you’ve become a knight.”

At Seriana’s praise, Enkrid smoothly turned it right back around.

“I heard Lady Seriana is an executor as well. Ah, though I ought to call you Lord Seriana, seeing only your face, you look no different from a beautiful young lady.”

In other words, he was saying that she was young and capable, which made it all the more surprising.

“Fortune like hearing praise for one’s looks from a knight—and a knight like you at that—doesn’t come easily, does it? A pleasant moment for the ears. You may call me Lady. I’ll look forward to the day we grow closer and you simply call me Seriana.”

“What is there to wait for? Seriana.”

“Then may I call you Enkrid freely as well?”

“You may.”

Esther looked into the darkness within herself. The Witch of Strife had lifted her chin and was preparing a spell.

What if she secretly used a spell just once and wiped every last strand of hair off that woman’s head?

If she made her earn the nickname Bald Lady—

‘Ugly.’

Esther suppressed the darkness rising inside her.

“So this is the first time I’ve seen Lord Seriana smile like that.”

That was Nephir Teshir speaking.

“Is it.”

Esther’s answer came back. Somehow she looked offended, but Nephir could no longer casually throw lewd glances at Esther. The defeated had no words.

“Yeah.”

So he too gave only a curt answer. Similar things kept happening after that. Seriana would speak, and Enkrid would listen and match her tone.

Esther’s face gradually grew paler. No, colder.

“This is going to turn into something. They both know exactly what they’re doing, so why are they still doing it?”

Rem moved up beside Esther as he spoke. He did it while shoving that Nephir fellow, who still kept hanging around Esther even if he no longer cast lewd glances, aside with a shoulder.

“I know.”

Esther answered.

Right. Before they came here, hadn’t Kraiss sidled up and said exactly this?

“Esther, what do you think about a fight that uses every weapon one possesses?”

When she looked at him as if asking what kind of obvious question that was, Kraiss had nodded vigorously.

“Exactly. I knew you’d agree. There are people in this world whose appearance is so outstanding that it becomes a weapon in itself. So!”

Why did this big-eyed madman only show passion at times like this? He was a truly fascinating man. His eyes shone with brilliant light. They burned with enthusiasm.

“We’re going to use that weapon. Enkrid is going to be deliberately kind to Lord Seriana, and we’ll draw information out of the Empire through that. So you must not suddenly call down lightning or cast a curse.”

It was unpleasant too, what kind of person did he take her for, to say something like that?

“What exactly do you think I’d do?”

When she opened her mouth and asked that, Kraiss took one step back and answered in a grave tone.

“...I worry a lot, you know? I’m saying this in advance because my anxiety runs high. It’s not that I suspect you of anything, Esther. This is purely because I’m anxious. Something strange is coming out of your eyes, Esther.”

Normally, those who handled spells sometimes had black smoke come out of their eyes. It absolutely did not mean they were angry.

“Ha.”

Enkrid laughed. At that sound, Esther woke from her thoughts and looked ahead. Beside the laughing Enkrid, Seriana was smiling too.

For some reason, she just felt bad. Esther watched it without expression.

“Hey. Hold it in.”

Rem restrained her from the side. For reasons she herself did not know, Esther found herself missing a certain fairy.

If that fairy had been here, might something have been different?

The woman called Seriana glanced toward Esther, then spoke.

“Lord Esther, my greeting of saying it’s an honor to meet you has come rather late. No doubt because of the knight at my side, who keeps blinding my eyes.”

She did address Esther, but the words at the end were aimed at Enkrid. It was a clumsy joke. Esther looked at the self inside her that was gripping the thread of reason. The thread was terribly thin. Stretched out left and right, the thread held in both hands looked as though the slightest force would snap it.

“Blinding your eyes? You aren’t ill anywhere, are you? Be careful. There’s a lot of dust.”

To Seriana’s clumsy joke, Enkrid responded with a joke of much the same level.

The two met eyes and laughed. They looked like a man and woman in the first flush of affection.

Inside Esther, the thread in her left hand snapped with a little tuk. Still, one thread remained.

The two of them kept chatting together again, all smiles and laughter.

It was not as if they were openly holding hands or doing anything like that. They were only talking.

“What food do they serve only in the Imperial Palace?”

“Nothing especially special, I think, though they do eat salted fish roe.”

“Roe?”

“It’s an excellent preparation. They say that if it’s salted properly, it becomes extremely delicious.”

“Ah, then His Majesty must like it too.”

“He does.”

The warm current of conversation flowing between them broke off for a moment. It had been happening again and again from earlier.

Whenever the emperor came up, she cut things short. Enkrid judged that hearing the information he wanted from this woman’s mouth would be a long way off.

Even so, Kraiss had asked him to keep up the same attitude until they arrived. Even if no opening was visible.

And now he understood why.

“Valmung, there’ll be plenty of chances besides you to watch other knights as well, won’t there?”

On one side, Crang was in the middle of sweet-talking Valphir Valmung.

“Of course. I’m sure there will.”

Blunt Valmung answered without any particular thought. It was just that Seriana kept blocking even that attempt every single time.

“That dish is one of Sir Valphir’s true favorites. And since Sir Valphir likes it, it will surely suit your taste as well, Sir Knight.”

“Is that so?”

And with that, she would insert Valphir Valmung right into the middle of her own conversation. Then the Esther watching them would calm down a little.

Then Crang would drag Valmung back out again, Enkrid and Seriana would grow warm with each other again, and Esther’s mood would worsen.

Well, Rem simply watched the whole thing while snickering.

Wasn’t everything they were doing amusing?

Whenever he let out a laugh, sometimes Enkrid shot killing intent his way, but so what? It was funny.

Rem was Rem no matter where he went.

That was how they moved along the route, and it was not a road leading toward a city.

These were people with terrifying combat power. There was no need to waste time following the main roads.

They passed only through the city of Zaltenbuck, finished their last resupply there, then immediately took the path over the mountain range.

“The road will be rough.”

The head of the Royal Guard voiced concern, but Crang, on the contrary, looked delighted.

“If climbing a few mountains is too much for you, shouldn’t you quit the Royal Guard?”

That was the sort of joke he just kept tossing out.

“It isn’t that I’m the one who’ll have a hard time. I’m worried about Your Highness.”

The head of the Royal Guard did not even look troubled. This was hardly the first or second day he had heard jokes like that.

That was how they reached Zaltenbuck, and after waiting about a day, the companions Crang had said would join them appeared. He had said there were two, but three were waiting for the party.

And one of them was someone Esther had dearly wanted to see.