Chapter 2
A total of 72. Fernyan, who had collected all the magic lamps, moved forward.
A massive cavern revealed itself, and at its center stood a small altar.
[“That’s the…”
Aint’s gaze remained fixed on one spot, unable to look away.
It was an instinctive pull.]
[At the end of the altar was a sword. A crude longsword that gave off no particular feeling. Yet strangely, it drew his gaze. His heart, his soul was pulled toward it.
Aint slowly approached the sword.]
Unlike Aint, Fernyan felt no pull of the soul.
And there was no sword.
That was natural. Aint would have already pulled it out.
Though there was no sword, the altar bore marks suggesting a sword had once been embedded there.
[Aint grasped the sword. In that moment, brilliant radiance saved the entire cavern from darkness.]
[When Aint closed his eyes and opened them again, it was no longer an altar or cavern.
“…Where is this?”
It was a secluded alley of the Imperial Academy.]
“…So it’s true.”
Traces of magic remained. Though faint enough to disappear soon, the fact that traces remained, that there were marks where a sword had been embedded in the center of the altar, and that Aint was not here—all of this was important.
Fernyan had to acknowledge it.
“Damn it.”
The book of prophecy was indeed real.
“So then.”
The demon legion returns to trample the continent…
“The already declining imperial family rises again, and in that process, they clash with me and I fall. Father has no choice but to excommunicate me to save the family, and I lose all my reputation, honor, power, and money…”
Fernyan laughed. Ha ha, well then.
“…What a fucking awful future.”
Crack
Blood vessels appeared in Fernyan’s eyes.
“…Who dares to steal money from me?”
Money is everything in this world. With money, you can do anything.
A future where he loses that could not and must not exist.
He would.
“I can never accept such a future.”
Make it so.
***
He returned to his lodgings. Having once again confirmed that the book of prophecy was true, Fernyan organized his thoughts.
Among the contents of the book of prophecy that lay dormant in his mind, the three most vivid memories that remained.
The main keyword that ran through all three was one human being.
The protagonist of this world, as acknowledged by the book of prophecy.
The entity that would bring about Fernyan’s downfall.
The hero who would protect this world from demons.
“Aint Armian.”
A first-year student who enrolled this year in the Knight Department of the Imperial Academy.
Currently a descendant of the declining former imperial family.
An aspiring knight who made becoming a Royal Knight his top priority goal.
One who would eventually achieve that dream through various encounters and efforts, ascending to become emperor.
“What a dilemma.”
According to the book of prophecy, Aint was definitely a rising stock. Investing in him and staying close to collect the crumbs would be the proper virtue of a complete merchant.
If only his disposition wasn’t the complete opposite of Fernyan’s, and if only he didn’t ultimately play the role of bringing Fernyan down, he might have run over immediately and wagged his tail like a dog.
He had made a good first impression by giving him a top-grade potion, but what if continued investment backfired?
It would be digging his own grave—a foolish act he must never commit.
“What is the dilemma?”
Just then, a servant entered and asked.
“Hyde.”
“Yes.”
“There’s a trading company that will definitely grow well if you invest in it. What would you do?”
“I would definitely invest.”
“But what if that company owner’s disposition doesn’t match mine?”
“Would that be a concern? Money can even match dispositions.”
“…Right, you’re correct. It was a useless worry.”
Fernyan’s eyes widened. It was a surprisingly simple problem. Money could do anything. Incompatible dispositions were merely a trivial matter before vast amounts of money.
He had simply cowered before the enormous problems of world destruction and demons, but the big picture was the same.
Invest, and earn vast amounts of money as compensation for bearing the risk.
“I need to meet him right away.”
“Did I hear wrong?”
“There’s nothing more foolish than hesitating and missing the timing for investment.”
Without even listening to his servant’s response, he grabbed his coat and headed outside.
“…Um, a guest has come to see you.”
One that the young master had summoned, no less.
The servant shook his head.
“I suppose I’ll have to handle the cleanup myself.”
He sighed deeply and went outside.
***
Prospective freshmen who passed the entrance exam immediately entered dormitories assigned according to their rankings.
“Whew.”
Aint was the same. He lay down on his bed. The soft mattress was inferior to his family’s, but it was quite decent.
Though he had passed but didn’t rank high enough for the Rabidus Hall where only top students went, nor the next-best Bless Hall, ending up in De Base Hall instead, Aint’s mood wasn’t bad.
Though there had been one problem in the middle, he had overcome it well and achieved his first purpose in coming to the academy.
His gaze turned to the sword placed beside him.
Once the sword of Sir Gardner Alpenfelsen, the Empire’s first Royal Knight, and now the sword that would become Aint Armian’s beloved blade.
An arrangement left by the founding emperor and a treasure that would guide him to higher places.
—De Base Hall!
It even came with Gardner Alpenfelsen’s ego.
—A descendant of Armian staying in De Base Hall, not even Bless Hall, at Armian Academy!
—This is absurd!
—If the previous emperor had known, he would have risen from his grave and twisted the demons’ necks!
“…Why are demons suddenly mentioned?”
—Because unless it’s the demons’ machinations, such a thing couldn’t happen!
What is this? Some kind of sophisticated indirect criticism?
“…It can’t be helped. I’m weak.”
—I simply cannot believe it. That a descendant of Armian could be this weak…
“Come to think of it, the founding emperor who made it so anyone could become emperor is also at fault.”
No, that was everything.
The seven prince-electors who supported the Empire. The right of the Golden Bull they possessed was the right to elect an emperor.
When the existing emperor died, a forum would open for electing a new emperor, and anyone who gained more than half the votes held by the prince-electors could become emperor.
“Or he should have just let the throne pass down. Why did he donate most of Armian’s territory to the Empire…”
If they had only lost the throne ‘alone,’ it would have been fortunate, but the founding emperor had offered most of Armian to the Empire.
Of course, when maintaining the throne, it posed no problem.
But the moment they lost the throne, Armian had no choice but to donate most of what they had to the new imperial family.
In that process, Armian had to struggle desperately to survive, and somehow even part of the secret sword techniques passed down from the founder were lost.
Thus they walked the path of decline.
“That’s why I honestly both respect and resent the founding emperor. If only he hadn’t made such choices, Armian wouldn’t have ended up like this.”
—How dare you!
—The very idea of losing the throne is absurd!
—To think such incompetent fools are Armian.
“Not everyone can be as great as the founding emperor.”
Aint smiled bitterly. Who would want to have their throne stolen?
The imperial authority of an empire formed by connecting various kingdoms was incredibly weak, and maintaining it for nearly a thousand years was itself nothing short of a miracle.
—…Fine. Fortunately, you have talent, so I’ll help you recreate that glory with all my heart and soul.
—Perhaps the previous emperor foresaw such events and left me as an arrangement.
“Thank you.”
It was a welcome thing. The very reason Aint had endured humiliation to enter the academy was Gardner Alpenfelsen.
That’s when it happened.
Knock knock—
“Aint Armian. Are you there?”
“Who is it?”
“Your senior.”
“Pardon?”
—Is there someone who would visit?
There wasn’t. Since losing the throne, Armian had locked their doors while strengthening their foundations, and there were no nobles with whom they had close relations.
Yet someone had come claiming to be a senior.
‘Could it be?’
Aint carefully opened the door. As he had expected, a familiar man stood there.
A person with the neat appearance of a noble’s exemplar and natural nobility flowing from him.
“Senior Fernyan?”
“It’s been a while. Ah, not really a while, is it?”
Fernyan shrugged his shoulders.
“Are you busy?”
“No. I don’t have anything urgent to do right now…”
“Then could you spare a little time? It’s too conspicuous here, and I’d like to go to a quiet place I know.”
“…Eh. Right now?”
“Yes.”
“…Five minutes. Please give me five minutes to prepare.”
“Very well.”
Fernyan took out a paper and quickly scribbled on it before handing it over.
“I’ll go ahead and wait, so come to this place.”
“Yes, yes!”
Fernyan disappeared. Aint closed the door and took a deep breath.
“What is this? He said it was an investment, but is he already asking for the potion money?”
“Or did he perhaps see me entering the dungeon?”
“No, that can’t be. There was no one around… With my abilities, could I find Senior Fernyan if he was determined to hide?”
Various thoughts confused his mind.
—What is it?
—Who is that guy that you’re making such a fuss?
“He’s quite an important person within the academy.”
—Seeing as he’s a senior, he’s just a student?
“A student, but you have to consider his status. His full name is Fernyan Fallenberg. He’s the eldest son of Fallenberg.”
—Fallenberg? That nouveau riche family?
“…Pardon?”
Aint tilted his head at the sudden harsh words.
***
Their first meeting had happened inadvertently, so there was no time to observe each other.
The impression he got from properly observing was not too bad. An ordinary and gentle-looking impression, but his eyes flashed with intelligence and ambition could be glimpsed here and there.
‘He’s an ambitious fellow. If he had talent and environment as well, he would have made it big.’
He wasn’t certain. But Fernyan’s intuition was telling him so.
One of the most important virtues of a merchant was the eye for people, and he had some confidence in that.
Even without the book of prophecy, he would have definitely given high marks to Aint Armian.
However, he couldn’t have gotten close openly. Friendship with the former imperial family would inevitably bring conflict with the current imperial family.
“Senior.”
Whether he had steeled his resolve coming here, Aint’s eyes shook less.
“Sit down.”
“Yes.”
A private room in a tea house located in the academy district. A tea house managed by the Fallenberg family, where the confidentiality of private rooms was excellent, making it a perfect place for such conversations.
“What would you like for tea?”
“Anything is fine.”
“Two cups of coffee here.”
“Yes.”
After a while, the staff member who brought the coffee left. Complete privacy was achieved.
The nervous Aint swallowed dry saliva. Fernyan’s gaze turned to Aint’s waist.
“You brought your sword.”
“Ah… Having a sword at hand puts me at ease… I absolutely have no intention of harming Senior Fernyan.”
“I understand. Most knights never separate their swords from their bodies.”
Fernyan nodded.
‘So that’s the sword. The one with the ego of the first Royal Knight, Sir Gardner Alpenfelsen.’
Though it looked relatively old and shabby, raising slight doubts, he had been carrying a different sword when they first met at the dungeon, so it was probably that one.
The book of prophecy had also mentioned that its appearance was somewhat worn.
‘Indeed, the book of prophecy is correct.’
Confirming and re-confirming despite having verified it several times was an obsessive habit as a merchant.
Of course, the bigger reason was not wanting to believe the future where he would fall.
“Are your injuries okay?”
“Yes. Thanks to you… If it’s a top-grade potion, I’ll prepare money as quickly as possible and give it to you.”
“It’s fine. Didn’t I say? That was an investment.”
“…Yes.”
“Speaking of which, have you eaten?”
After checking Aint’s eyes, Fernyan didn’t bring up the sponsorship topic.
Such people didn’t easily fall for temptation. Unless you dragged them to the very bottom or made a very suitable offer they couldn’t refuse.
And Fernyan had neither at the moment. Rather, a hasty proposal would be perfect for earning resentment by putting a scratch on Armian’s pride.
“Not yet…”
“Then…”
The conversation that followed consisted of trivial chatter. After quite some time, Fernyan left.
“Well then, let’s meet again next time. Ah, since there are watching eyes around, don’t openly act like you know me.”
“Yes.”
Left alone, Aint tilted his head.
“What was that all about?”
No, did he really just come to chat?
—He was just sizing you up.
“Sizing up?”
—What kind of person you are.
—That’s how those nouveau riche folks operate. Before doing anything, they first check the person.
“So whether I’m useful or not?”
—Exactly.
—What troubled times.
—To dare do such things to Armian.
“…It’s not necessarily bad, is it?”
If he had talked about direct sponsorship as an extension of the potion investment, there would definitely have been a feeling that the family was being looked down upon.
His view of Fernyan wouldn’t have been favorable. But he had maintained an appropriate line. If it was simply to build friendship, there was nothing he couldn’t respond to.
“Fallenberg’s money is never to be ignored.”
—Good thinking.
—When it comes to money, those nouveau riche have the most. Having one nouveau riche as a patron would be very reassuring. The previous emperor did the same.
Gardner laughed heartily.
***
“Hmm…”
The conversation with Aint had been mostly trivial chatter. However, a person’s true nature is revealed in everyday conversation.
With the book of prophecy as well, Fernyan had completed his rough assessment of Aint Armian.
His will was firm and he valued his family’s honor. He had strong pride and also possessed the desire to revive his family someday, along with a desire for honor.
“Hasty actions would only earn ill will. It would be better to gradually become close, as if seeping in.”
Fernyan determined his approach toward Aint. Since their dispositions didn’t match, being too directly involved didn’t seem good either.
Maintaining an appropriate distance, maintaining appropriate friendship, and appropriately extracting what could be extracted would be best.
At least that was his immediate judgment.
“Then…”
“Young master. Have you returned?”
“What’s the matter?”
“Where did you go?”
“I had someone to meet briefly.”
“That wasn’t Luina Berchev, was it?”
“Luina Berchev? Why are you suddenly bringing up Luina Berchev?”
Luina Berchev was his classmate and the runner-up in the Knight Department.
And she was a debtor who owed money from family to family.
“You called to meet today.”
“I did?”
“Yes, you did.”
“…Right, I did.”
Fallenberg had lent money to Berchev targeting her secret sword techniques.
He had made an appointment with the intention of pressuring her and her family as they gradually became pressed by debt.
“…Was that today?”
“Yes. I was about to tell you she was waiting, but you suddenly went out.”
“…Where is Luina now?”
“She waited for three hours thinking you’d return soon and then left. She probably suspected you did it on purpose to break her spirit.”
“…If she’s in debt, she should be able to endure that much…”
It was right then, with a splitting headache, that the contents of the book of prophecy suddenly came to mind.
[—It’s certain. Her talent is outstanding enough to reach Royal Knight.
The soul dwelling in the sword and the great first Royal Knight, Sir Gardner Alpenfelsen, asserted.
—There seems to be some kind of inner demon.
If only the shackles binding her could be broken, she would spread her wings and soar to her heart’s content.]
A fragment of memory that had surfaced because it was related to Aint Armian.
‘Royal Knight?’
One of the ten strongest knights on the continent, acknowledged by the Empire’s emperor?
[Fluttering brown hair, aquamarine-reminiscent blue eyes were only part of what described her.
Her sword was incomparably noble, beautiful, noble, and alive.
Aint fell for her swordplay illuminated by moonlight.]
[He wanted to break the shackles that bound her, the Fallenberg family.]
Even the first lover of Aint Armian, and the first excuse that would cause the relationship between Aint and Fernyan to go awry?
“…Fucking hell.”
Fernyan had an intuition.
‘Why is such important information coming to mind now…!’
He had fastened the first button wrong from the start.
