Chapter 43

Chapter : 43

Several weeks had passed since I began training Navier.

Even if she did not look drastically different on the outside, she had gained better lung capacity, better muscular endurance, and at least the bare minimum of fencing skill.

Compared with how she had been when she first started fencing, it was tremendous progress.

“But it still isn’t enough.”

To make the Crown Prince admire her, she needed more exceptional skill.

But no matter how much I thought it over, there was no way to raise her skill beyond its current level before the tournament. This was not the only matter either of us had to worry about, and Navier, too, was short on time in every direction just to handle her own responsibilities.

So the method we settled on was to pretend she was injured.

Today, in preparation for the tournament, we decided to spar while taking that injury into account. Because of that, Navier appeared in the hall wearing mismatched shoes.

She turned the heavily bandaged foot toward me and said,

“I did exactly what you told me.”

The bandaging beneath her shoe made only the ankle bulge outward. Looking at it, I said,

“There’s not much point in just wrapping it with bandages... It won’t really hold it in place. But we’re only acting anyway, aren’t we? There’s no need to fix it properly. No one’s likely to call that out.”

“No, let’s do it properly. The more I think about it, the clearer it becomes. This is an opportunity that may never come again in my life. I want to seize it no matter what.”

I had to admire Navier’s resolve.

She was right.

There was always the possibility of something going wrong. No one could predict what kind of accident might expose our script, so it was better to make everything perfect.

I fetched a half-cast splint and set it against her ankle, then wrapped it again with bandages.

“It’ll be uncomfortable for a while. Endure it until the tournament, and then just a few more days after.”

“Yes, this much... It’s easier than tightening a corset.”

When I finished, we took our stances on the en garde line.

Navier had right of way first.

Ever since I told her to fight more aggressively, she had indeed begun thrusting forward with more conviction. This time was the same, so I corrected her attack.

“That’s not it. Your left ankle is injured, remember? Your reaction when advancing and retreating can’t be the same. When you retreat, your weight goes onto the left foot. So whenever you move with the left foot as the pivot, make it a beat slower. And show just a little that it hurts. Let your face tighten slightly. Got it?”

“Yes. I’ll try again.”

Navier changed at once from a single correction.

She understood my words precisely and followed them faithfully. She did not merely act like someone who couldn’t show her real ability because of an injury, but also like someone frustrated by that fact. She was gifted when it came to acting.

I was impressed enough by her performance to clap.

It was excellent.

“That’s it. Perfect.”

And it was right then.

This was a shared training hall open to any Academy student. There was nothing strange about someone else coming in.

With one exception.

A student one could be lucky enough to enter in the same year as, yet still find it difficult to see even once before graduation. Kartea Savi Iniespi, the Crown Prince of the Empire.

For some reason, he entered the hall.

We lowered our breaths, pretended to stare at the floor, and watched him from the corners of our eyes. Wondering what this could possibly be about, we waited briefly, and he started walking toward us.

Since we had greeted Kartea first, he glanced at Navier’s ankle, then drew his brows together. Lines formed between his eyes.

“Why is your ankle injured?”

Navier forced a smile and flicked her gaze toward me.

It seemed the situation had caught her off guard, since this had not been planned. We couldn’t coordinate our words even here, so I signaled with my chin for her to handle it herself. Navier blinked twice, then said,

“I twisted it a little while walking. It’s not serious enough that I can’t move.”

“And yet you’re fencing? Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“The tournament is soon.”

“What tournament?”

That much was only natural.

A small fencing tournament held within the Academy was exactly the sort of thing it was normal not to know about. Even I would have had no interest in it if not for Navier.

Kartea tilted his head with a baffled expression.

“There’s a tournament at the Academy, and I’m entering it.”

“Give it up. Your ankle hurts. Do you gain anything by winning it? What are you overexerting yourself for?”

Navier smiled as though it were nothing and moved the foot with the splint attached.

“It only looks serious because this treatment is so excessive. It really is just a slight sprain. It should heal in a few days.”

Kartea seemed to decide that meddling any further would be difficult, so he sighed. Then he looked at me and frowned.

“Your face is familiar, but what was your name again?”

“I am called Raphael Isaac. Of House Isaac—”

“No need for introductions. It isn’t something I particularly care to hear. More importantly, you seem to be the one teaching fencing. In that case, shouldn’t you be the first to stop this?”

“She’s very determined, and...”

“Hah. How frustrating. Fine, then. Why don’t you and I play a game?”

“What?”

“It’s nothing much. I simply want to see your skill.”

Kartea’s proposal was far too sudden.

If we had a match here, there would certainly be a result.

But what would that even mean?

I had no idea.

It seemed to mean something to Kartea, however.

“What would you like to do for equipment?”

Foils, gloves, and shoes were all over the hall, but I had a feeling Kartea would be unwilling to use a shared mask or jacket.

But after pretending to think for a moment, Kartea said,

“We can use the common equipment, can’t we?”

“Yes. Understood.”

It was, in name at least, a proposal from the Crown Prince.

There was no real way to refuse, so I agreed to the match. Kartea attacked first.

---

Despite the confidence of his attitude, Kartea’s form was not particularly good.

He bent his knees too deeply, and the direction of his foil was held too high. He seemed either to have little experience in fencing, or to have learned long ago and neglected it.

But then, in the very next moment, Kartea’s body moved.

Eyes sharpened through Mana Refinement caught his motion.

Advance, then thrust.

Since simultaneous hits were awarded to the one holding right of way, it was orthodox enough as a choice, but Kartea overdid it.

His step was too large, and his chest thrust forward too far.

If I simply extended my arm and countered from there, the point would have been mine.

But unlike my eyes, my body couldn’t keep up. Kartea’s approach was terrifyingly fast. Without using mana, a counterattack was impossible.

Tap.

Kartea’s foil touched my chest.

I had only just begun to move my arm.

For an instant I thought he might have used mana because of that superhuman speed, but I realized at once that it was something else.

Dragon Blood.

The thick blood flowing through Kartea’s body.

It erased Kartea’s natural limits. Even without using any energy system like mana, it let him pour forth tremendous strength.

Was he really going to fence like this?

As I stood there blankly, Kartea gave a crooked smile and said,

“Ah. So you do know the rules. In a sport like this, using mana is considered bad manners, isn’t it? Naturally, I know that as well. I did not use mana.”

In other words, that thrust had been produced by physical strength alone.

And it also meant he was telling me not to use mana.

A command from the Crown Prince was not something I could very well refuse.

So I meekly gave up the point. The match ended in an instant, and I lost without scoring a single point.

It wasn’t like I had ever played polite soccer before, and this was my first time being on the receiving end of polite fencing, so the whole thing left a strange taste in my mouth. What was that supposed to be?

Wondering what meaning there had been in such a match, I looked at Kartea.

To my surprise, he seemed extremely satisfied. He removed his mask with a smile still on his face. Then he walked over to me and held out his hand.

“Well done.”

“Yes. You as well.”

He spoke without even looking at me. His gaze was aimed at Navier.

He was watching her reaction.

Ah.

Ahhh.

I get it now.

It even felt as though Kartea already had feelings for Navier.

That was why he had wanted to show her a plausible, admirable side of himself, and that was why he had staged this little spectacle. And because of that, I—someone lingering around Navier—had gotten on his nerves, so he had picked a pointless quarrel with me.

It was childish beyond what one ought to expect even by the standards of this world, let alone the modern one, but then again, that was the sort of character he was.

I understood exactly why he had done this.

This time, his eyes turned toward me.

The hostility in them sent a chill through me.

It seemed he had misunderstood something. Navier and I did sometimes eat together, and we did spend a fair amount of time around each other.

Wasn’t jealousy a fundamental trait of romance-fantasy male leads?

It was hardly strange for Kartea to feel jealous.

From now on, it would probably be better if I kept my distance from Navier.

I thought getting Bishot away would be enough, but now another problem has appeared.

Making Kartea jealous and leaving him restless might have been one possible method, but it was far too dangerous.