Teron's sword sliced through the air with a force and speed that made the earlier throw at the tree look like nothing. Even so, Leopold dodged it easily.
He tossed the sword back to Teron.
“Again.”
Dozens of attacks followed, but fortunately Leopold was never once struck. Just how vast was the gap in their skill for this to be possible? Even the Academy's swordsmanship instructor would take a hit at least once if Teron set his mind to hurling blades at him.
Both of them, drenched in sweat, caught their breath.
Teron Meyer went ahead and traced out a magic circle. When he cast the spell, the dagger took on a blue tint.
“What's that?”
“Enhancement magic.”
Without another word, Teron settled into his stance and aimed the dagger dead center at Leopold's heart.
There was a sharp whoosh of air, and to everyone's astonishment, Leopold snatched the dagger by its handle just before it reached his heart.
“I nearly died there.”
“Pity.”
“Watch your mouth a little... never mind. I've never heard of enhancement magic before. Did you develop it yourself?”
“Don't be absurd. It's an advanced formula, not something in the curriculum.”
“That last one had far more destructive power than your usual throws. I can't believe it's possible...”
It wasn't. The effect had been negligible.
It was hardly surprising. That was simply the level of white magic to begin with. For all his casting, it wasn't even enough to beat one Leopold.
Yet even at such a feeble effect, Leopold seemed rather impressed, showing his curiosity.
“What kind of formula is it? Won't you teach it to me too?”
“No. It would only be a hindrance to you, Your Highness. In the time it takes to draw a magic circle, one swing of the sword would be far more effective.”
“...Still, I'm curious. It might make me stronger, right?”
“That won't happen. You're already the strongest in the kingdom, Your Highness.”
“Me?”
Leopold burst out laughing.
“How would you know that, Teron?”
“Is there anyone who could beat you, Your Highness?”
“...Plenty, I'd think. The knight commander holds his own against me when we spar, though there's no one in the royal household who can, I suppose. But think how vast the kingdom is. Surely there are wandering knights who are skilled with a blade, or monster hunters, or...”
“There aren't. And even if there were, aren't you still only a fourth-year at the Academy, Your Highness?”
“I'm surprised you'd say something so kind. I'll take it gladly.”
“Are you not a sword master yet?”
“What? Why do you keep bringing up sword masters, like you have for a while now? That's nothing but a legend.”
To the incredulous, laughing Leopold, Teron asked back:
“And what do you mean, a legend?”
“No, I mean it's the stuff of legend. A realm no human can reach. Though a true legend does exist, of course. The sword master who lived in the kingdom three hundred years ago is said to have transcended human strength.”
To Teron's eye, Leopold's swordsmanship had transcended human limits too. He was practically one body with his blade. He was strong enough to take down several monsters at once.
Not more than black magic, though.
“They say the sword moved as if it had a will of its own. Light poured out from the blade, and some unknown force became one with the sword and boasted a truly overwhelming power. Utter nonsense.”
“I see.”
Teron nodded. There was no way such a thing existed in this world.
...Or was there?
Something suddenly flashed across his mind. Even though it was a completely unrelated word, somehow he felt a sense of déjà vu.
“...Magic?”
he murmured. Then his steady heartbeat quickened just slightly.
Some unknown force. A force from which light poured out. A sword with a will. Power beyond human.
Wasn't that exactly magic?
Teron lifted his head. He took a step closer to Leopold. A faint spark of life stirred in his hazy gray eyes.
“Where did you hear this legend?”
“I don't remember. Maybe the knight commander mentioned it.”
“...”
“Ah, I think I may have read it in a book, too. There was a book about swordsmanship in the royal palace library.”
Leopold, who had been answering indifferently, was suddenly startled by the change in Teron's demeanor.
He was intrigued.
Somehow it felt curious. These startling reactions kept coming from the most unexpected places. Earlier, when he'd been insulted, Teron hadn't cared in the least, and now, all of a sudden, over the strangest thing.
“What was the book called?”
“I think the title was just something about swordsmanship. It was in the Grand Library, which means there's only one copy of it in the world.”
Why had he been so unfazed earlier?
No, why had he looked so astonishingly accustomed to it?
Leopold swallowed, feeling as though something inside him were burning.
He was trying not to let it show, but the truth was his mood had been plummeting for a while now.
It wasn't because he'd been made the target of an unpleasant joke. Because Teron had been insulted? That was part of it, yes.
But the decisive reason was that Teron Meyer hadn't cared in the slightest.
Teron disliked him. He bristled at Leopold's every small gesture, avoided even conversing with him, and acted as if Leopold Deluah were the most dreadful person in the world.
It had felt unfair. Leopold had thought it was just a matter of Teron's personality. Honestly, deep down, he supposed he'd believed exactly that.
That Teron hated him though he'd done nothing wrong and was venting some distorted anger at him. That since the ones tormenting Teron Meyer weren't him, Teron had aimed his rage at the wrong target.
But that wasn't it at all.
Watching Teron react to being picked on in passing as though it were not just familiar but a matter of course, Leopold had wanted to ask.
Just what kind of life have you been living?
What have you been through to show not a single reaction to any of this?
His heart pounded fiercely. At first he'd been angry at the Academy's students.
Later, he'd resented himself for failing to grasp the situation sooner.
Later still, Teron Meyer's words came back to him.
'Just what is it that you want, Your Highness? Is the moral superiority you gain through hypocrisy your only aim?'
Yes, the truth was, he'd known.
He'd known full well that Teron Meyer was treated poorly at the Academy.
He'd known everyone spoke ill of him.
He'd known Teron was being bullied, and this year he'd even learned that it had gotten severe enough to escalate into a knife fight.
And yet he'd given it little thought. Why? Because Teron Meyer was someone who had nothing to do with him.
Because he was a commoner who had to soar up through all that malice. Because he disliked Leopold.
Three years ago, the child Leopold had discovered while stopping by the Ruden estate had been mercilessly trampled and broken in this place.
All of it was the work of Leopold Deluah.
Leopold hated two-faced people. Those who groveled before him yet straightened their backs proudly before some old woman passing by truly made his skin crawl.
But his present self was no different from all those he despised.
He'd stood by and watched Teron's suffering. He'd looked down on everything from above, arrogant, and enjoyed it. He hadn't even been aware of how filthy his own behavior was.
Was it because he'd grown up surrounded by nothing but people who smiled so easily to your face while committing squalid acts beneath the surface? He resembled those swindlers to the marrow. Those fools who couldn't see a person as a person.
The moment he realized it, even the last little bit of resentment he'd held toward Teron melted away like snow. No longer did hearing Teron's sharp, cutting words stir anything in him. One corner of his chest simply felt cold.
It was guilt. He gasped under the surging emotion, but soon realized that this, too, was deceit. Finding his own figure contradictory and laughable, Leopold simply buried it. An apology, too, would surely be nothing but hypocrisy to Teron.
A cold wind burrowed through the trees. The scent of the forest, wood and wind mingled together, drifted in. His tangled thoughts remained unchanged even after the swordsmanship practice with Teron.
Leopold said he would stop by the palace before long and look for that book with the legend of the sword master written in it. Teron was visibly delighted. He looked happier than at any time since that day he'd choked himself like a madman and burst into laughter.
The palace wasn't a place he particularly wanted to visit, but if it made Teron this happy.
Then how would Teron react to this?
“The students who spouted that nonsense in front of you earlier are going to be disciplined. I'm thinking of having them rest a few good months back on their estates.”
Teron shot Leopold a scornful smile.
“You've been badly hurt, haven't you? If you hate that rumor so much, then don't speak to me. Everything will resolve itself nicely.”
Even when it was for his own sake. But now not even a flicker of indignation rose in him.
“If there's something you want, say it.”
“Edmund Rapel is the eldest son of a marquis house. Marquis Rapel must be the de facto ruler of Deluah's central-south region. Are you sure you want to make an enemy of him?”
Teron asked an unexpected question. Leopold grabbed and pulled up Teron, who was still sitting there right on the filthy dirt ground.
As expected, Teron slapped his hand away. Thanks to that, cold words came out of his mouth on their own.
“It's certainly not an ideal situation. But at the Royal Academy, who's going to object to a prince handing down a disciplinary measure?”
“On the grounds of insulting a mere commoner?”
“Not a commoner. They insulted me.”
Teron sneered at him once again. It stung a little, but Leopold endured it and went on.
“And whenever there's someone picking a fight with you, will you tell me?”
“State your reason.”
“Because I want to punish them.”
“All of a sudden?”
To the doubtful question, Leopold answered shamelessly.
“Yes, all of a sudden.”
