Chapter 10: Let’s Go South—Fate Calls You
“Mr. Pralin!”
For the first time since returning to this life, a childlike squeal burst from my lips.
“Lady Astir. Have you been well? Ah… Lady?”
“…I missed you.”
“Oh, my.”
The smiling man quickly patted my head when he saw tears filling my eyes.
I swallowed them back.
As far as he knew, I was crying simply because it had been a month since we’d last met. He was the only tutor who taught me face-to-face, after all.
But that wasn’t the reason.
I had watched him die.
Then I had died as well.
And now…
I was seeing him again.
The only reason he had become my tutor in the first place was because his lessons were inexpensive.
Eventually, I would have to appear before the nobility.
If the Duke’s adopted daughter knew nothing about the arts, it would reflect poorly on the family.
Among nobles, being unable to play music or paint was considered proof that one’s household had failed to provide a proper education.
After considering everything, Duke Nuxieike reached a decision.
So I wouldn’t overlap with Sei, who loved music, I would receive only the most basic painting lessons once a month.
The music teachers hired for Sei were all renowned masters.
Mr. Pralin wasn’t.
He earned his living more as an art instructor than as a successful painter.
The Duke considered his humble background an advantage.
Someone of such modest birth would know his place—and keep his mouth shut.
Compared to Sei, I was clearly receiving the lesser education.
But I was happy.
He was a wonderful teacher.
Eventually, failing health forced him to abandon both his dream of becoming a painter and his work as a private tutor before returning to his hometown.
He had never been treated particularly well.
Even news of his death received only cold indifference.
“So he had been carrying such a dreadful illness. Thank the gods it never affected our Sei.”
The Duke’s words had pierced my heart.
I had been too afraid of him to say anything.
Only after returning to my room had I cried in silence.
That was all I could do.
…
No.
Forget those thoughts.
Right now…
He was alive.
Standing right in front of me.
Praising me.
“You’ve improved tremendously.”
“Even with a solid understanding of the theory, putting it into practice isn’t easy.”
“I practiced and studied ahead on my own.”
Strictly speaking, that experience came from all the suffering I’d endured trying to earn practical art credits at the Academy in my previous life.
But…
That wasn’t technically a lie.
Thanks to that, I didn’t need him to explain what sketching was from the beginning.
Since we’d saved time…
I decided to spend it differently.
“Teacher, you’re from the South, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Do you know the Humanitas Academy in the South?”
“Professor Ross Taylor, who critiques my drawings, graduated from there.”
“Ah! Of course.”
“It’s an incredibly famous academy.”
“If he graduated from Humanitas, he must have been an exceptional student.”
“How is it different from Paideia Academy in the capital?”
“Everyone here goes to Paideia after making their debut.”
“But I heard southern nobles prefer private education instead.”
“They say only truly brilliant people attend the academy.”
“And that Humanitas has more commoners than nobles.”
“Is that true?”
I fired off every question I’d prepared to investigate Ross Taylor’s background.
Since we weren’t pressed for time with the lesson anymore, Mr. Pralin answered each one patiently.
“That tendency certainly exists.”
“You could call it a cultural difference.”
“The South has a much larger population.”
“There has always been strong support for educating talented people.”
“So many schools actively accepted commoners.”
“And since the South has produced so many outstanding soldiers…”
“It also has military academies with traditions every bit as long as the knightly orders.”
“…Wait.”
I blinked.
“Military academies?”
“Ah.”
“They’re schools that educate those destined to serve in the military.”
“They don’t have individual names.”
“They’re simply numbered.”
“There are three of them.”
“A few of my childhood friends attended the Third Military Academy.”
“I believe one later transferred to the Second.”
“…?”
Wait.
The military?
Military academies?
It felt as though someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over my head.
* * *
The moment I saw Mr. Pralin off…
I sprinted toward the library.
My trembling hands frantically searched through stacks of papers.
“No…”
My breathing became ragged.
Astir…
You really are an idiot.
How could you forget something so important?
Only now did I remember.
How Killes and I first met.
Why he had come to the North.
“…Who will claim the greatest honor this time?”
“The finest knights and military prodigies will compete…”
“Perhaps an unknown genius from obscurity…”
“Who will earn the brightest laurel crown…?”
The Martial Tournament.
Held every few years…
This ancient competition had existed since antiquity.
Anyone who carried a weapon dreamed of participating.
Only the champion…
And the runner-up…
Were awarded laurel crowns in this imperial tournament of glory.
In the major disciplines—swordsmanship, spear fighting, and others—
True geniuses sometimes earned the title of Master, a distinction reserved only for those with superhuman ability.
The tournament mentioned in the article…
Would take place next spring.
And it would plunge the Empire into madness.
A boy not yet an adult would win every single event.
Not only that…
He would earn the title of Master in every category.
A feat unlike anything in history.
The achievement was so unprecedented…
That an entirely new title had to be created.
Grandmaster.
Master of every discipline.
Grandmaster Killes Snowells.
He entered the world under the sponsorship of a southern noble.
Baron Snowells had become his first martial teacher.
He gave Killes both status…
And an education.
The Baron took an orphan boy from an orphanage.
Granted him his own family name, making him a junior noble.
Named him Killes, after an ancient hero.
Then enrolled him in a military academy through his personal connections.
Although Killes had been completely alone…
He found children in the orphanage whom he loved like younger siblings.
Together…
They all entered the Third Military Academy.
By the age of eighteen…
Killes won overwhelming victories, bringing glory to both his teacher and his alma mater.
And afterward…
He left his homeland forever.
* * *
The Empire was ruled by the Imperial House of Escalis.
The current Emperor had once had two sons.
The eldest had died young.
The Crown Prince now was the younger son.
The deceased Crown Prince had left behind two children.
His son—
Grand Duke Serenite—
was second in line to the throne.
His daughter…
Princess Hestia.
The Empire’s only princess.
One day…
The siblings visited the Duchy of Grostia in the South.
There…
Disaster struck.
Without telling her brother…
The princess disguised herself as a commoner to see the outside world.
An innocent adventure.
With a horrifying ending.
Bandits attacked.
She was stabbed to death.
The place where she died…
Was the Third Military Academy.
Countless people at the academy became implicated.
Many faced execution.
Others faced lives worse than death.
Killes’ teachers.
Most importantly…
The younger siblings he cherished.
No one came to their aid.
The Grostia Ducal House had enough problems of its own.
The crime had occurred within their territory.
The East and the North didn’t dare oppose the Emperor’s anger.
The West…
Was unusual enough that it hardly mattered.
Killes immediately sought out the Duke of Sanderapax…
Lord of the Desert.
The moment he arrived…
He threw himself to the ground…
Kissed the Duke’s feet…
And begged.
He promised to do anything…
If only his loved ones could be saved.
The Lord of the Desert became fascinated by the legendary Grandmaster.
Thus…
Killes left his homeland.
Becoming a retainer of House Sanderapax.
“Retainer is a flattering word.”
“In truth, he became another collectible.”
“You know Duke Sanderapax’s obsession with collecting.”
“Still!”
“He’s the Grandmaster!”
“Sword Masters and Spear Masters appear maybe once every ten years!”
“A Grandmaster!”
“I want to see him, Grandfather!”
“If our Sei wishes it, naturally I’ll make it happen.”
“We’ll contact House Sanderapax immediately.”
“Our family has close ties with the Desert.”
“If we ask to borrow one of his collection…”
“He’ll surely agree.”
As much as I hated to admit it…
I had met Killes because of Sei.
At Sei’s request to meet the famous Grandmaster…
Duke Nuxieike invited Killes from the Desert.
Killes had made the correct decision.
Thanks to Duke Sanderapax…
His acquaintances escaped execution.
Their punishment was reduced to exile.
Together they became laborers stationed along the eastern coastline.
In truth…
Killes himself wasn’t much different.
Once surrounded only by glory…
He became a mercenary.
When his employer gestured…
He fought.
When ordered to dance…
He danced.
“Look!”
“He killed all those fighting dogs with his bare hands.”
“Disgusting.”
“What an arrogant bastard.”
“For someone calling himself a Master…”
“He’s wagging his tail before nobles like a dog.”
“Has he no pride?”
“I suppose low birth can never be hidden.”
“He didn’t even wipe the blood off his face.”
“I heard he’s obsessed with arena fighting.”
“Well…”
“He grew up without parents in that sort of place.”
“People say he wandered gambling pits with a sword from childhood.”
“He learned to throw punches before he learned to read.”
The Grandmaster had become nothing more than a toy for the nobility.
Mockery.
Humiliation.
He endured it all.
Because if he obeyed…
The Desert paid him.
And he could send that money to his younger siblings in exile.
But even that didn’t last.
Eventually…
He lost every one of them.
His old teachers as well.
Only later did people realize…
Their deaths had been an omen.
The ones who annihilated the coastal garrison…
Were the demons.
Thus…
The war began.
Killes was conscripted to the Desert’s front lines alongside Duke Sanderapax.
And…
We never met again until just before I was imprisoned.
“…Ha…”
“Seriously.”
“Why…”
“Why did she have to go there of all places…”
I let out a long sigh.
Princess Hestia was a year younger than I was.
Part of me resented her.
Yes.
At that age…
Living inside the palace must have felt suffocating.
Sneaking out to see the world…
I understood.
Completely.
But why…
Why did she have to die there?
I knew it sounded cold.
Heartless.
Yet…
Right now…
Nothing mattered more to me than Killes.
“Astir…”
“You idiot…”
I felt like I was going insane.
I even smacked my own head.
How could I possibly have forgotten?
The memory remained painfully vivid.
Late one night…
My friend Killes came to see me.
In only a month…
He had changed completely.
His eyes.
His complexion.
Everything.
He must have spent that entire month…
Collecting the bodies of his younger siblings.
“Killes…”
I already knew what had happened.
My eyes filled with tears.
But…
He never looked at me.
Normally…
He always brought me food because I was constantly starving.
That night…
He carried only firewood he’d probably snapped from a nearby tree.
Silently…
He placed it into the brazier in my room.
Then stared into the suddenly blazing fire.
No…
He glared at it.
As though he were staring directly at his own fate.
“Killes…”
“Please…”
“If nothing else…”
“Cry.”
In the end…
I was the one who cried.
He never did.
He simply sat there…
Silent…
For a very long time.
Originally…
Before my fifteenth birthday…
I had planned to somehow establish a connection with Priest Sadonix, the man destined to become a Cardinal.
With his help…
I intended to seek refuge in the temple.
Using life in a convent as an excuse…
I would escape the Duke.
Hide within the temple.
Then slowly prepare my revenge.
But…
Every part of that plan had to change.
I felt completely lost.
Even so…
I couldn’t remain still.
Absolutely not.
I refused to let Killes fall into misery again.
Somehow…
I had to go south.
To the Southern Region.
I had to stop Princess Hestia’s death.
This wasn’t merely a wish.
Nor simply a goal.
It was my destiny.
I had to save Killes.
No matter what.
Even if it cost me everything.
