Chapter 71
*
“That was a fruitful conversation. Then have a good night, Sir Julian.”
The light of the communication orb went out.
Prince Edmund stared at the extinguished crystal orb for a while.
On the table remained a half-finished bowl of soup and bread crumbs.
The after-dinner tea had long since gone cold.
The night in the detached palace was silent.
It was a brief peace one could enjoy only after the baby had finally fallen asleep.
Prince Edmund was used to this kind of stillness.
It was like the silence right after an engagement on the battlefield had ceased.
A kind of quiet in which you held your breath, yet could not let your guard down.
The prince suddenly found himself comparing childcare to war and let out a wry smile.
'Is this my new battlefield?'
Not a bad battlefield, at that.
If only he could sleep a little more comfortably.
But according to Julian's advice, even that was only a few months away.
Still, once the child turned one, they said he would at least be able to “sleep.”
Edmund took a sip of the cold tea.
Then, the adjutant standing beside the door spoke up.
“Your Highness.”
Carlos Richter.
The prince's adjutant, and a comrade whose back he'd trusted on the battlefield.
And the chief staff officer directly under the current head of personnel.
For reference, he also doubled as the driver who sometimes hurriedly fetched Julian.
“May I offer a word?”
“Speak freely.”
“Forgive me for asking, but what Sir Nihirit said at the end is bothering me a little.”
“What part?”
“Didn't you yourself say it, sir? That the only thing he could do was track black magic, not stop it.”
The prince nodded after hearing his adjutant's words.
Indeed.
Right after proposing a lecture on black magic defense, Julian had politely refused the offer.
— “I’m already confident in chasing down incidents or dealing with them after they happen. But I’m far from any sort of defense or prevention. Even so, would it be all right to call this a defense class?”
Richter continued.
“Of course I don't doubt his abilities. This incident proved them. But the name is defense, while what he's actually teaching is how to respond afterward, so I'm worried it might cause some confusion.”
“You're suggesting we change the name?”
“I apologize, but yes, Your Highness.”
Edmund nodded.
“What you say makes sense. Titles are important. That's where the direction of things gets decided.”
“Then...”
“And that is precisely why I have no intention of changing it.”
Edmund said firmly.
Richter fell silent.
The prince laughed at the sight of his adjutant like that.
“You won't even ask why?”
“There is no way to change the intentions of a prince who has made up his mind. I already learned that during the fortress assault.”
“That's disappointing. I was hoping for the fiery loyal retainer who once wanted to disobey me and retreat.”
“...”
The adjutant looked at the prince with the expression of someone who had bitten into a bug.
The prince waved a hand at him.
“Still, it seems I have to convince you again this time if we're to charge together, so I'll explain, Richter.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Why do you think black mages are so rampant?”
The adjutant thought for a moment before answering.
“Because they're hard to track, and the defensive systems against them are insufficient.”
Black magic cannot be defended against.
A fireball or a sniper shot can be blocked with a shield when it comes flying.
But black magic is not like that.
It's stealthy, and above all, invisible.
Since you can't know when, where, or how it will come at you, responding to it is close to impossible.
On top of that, because you can't see the trajectory it took, tracking it after the fact is difficult too.
“And besides, isn't there also the possibility that it wasn't black magic at all, but a misunderstanding or simple bad luck?”
There were other reasons as well.
In nature, fire doesn't exist without a reason. People don't freeze solid for no reason, and they don't get cut in half for no reason.
But black magic cannot be distinguished from nature.
A person may fall ill from the curse of a plague, but they could also simply have had bad luck and gotten sick.
Once you factor in things like that, black magic often becomes almost impossible to trace.
Richter was pointing to that part.
“That's right. But that's a technical answer.”
But that was not the answer the prince wanted.
Edmund leaned back in his chair.
“What I'm asking is something more fundamental. Why is the Empire so powerless before black magic? Because we lack the techniques? Because the budget is insufficient? Of course, those are problems we must solve someday. But they're not the fundamental answer.”
Of course, that was a problem too.
But the moment he heard that Julian had tracked down the black mage in a single day, and then heard how he had done it.
The prince focused on the root cause.
“The most fundamental problem is resignation.”
“...”
“Whenever people are hit by black mages, they always say the same things. We can't catch them anyway. By the time we track them, they've already escaped. There's no way to stop it. And then what do we do?”
Edmund's fingers drummed slowly on the table.
“We give up, or we halfheartedly handle the case already thinking of giving up.”
Richter listened without saying a word.
“This academy incident too. Do you think the principal and vice principal just got complacent because they were lazy?”
“...Wasn't it concluded to be negligence on the job?”
“Negligence it was. But we have to find out where that negligence came from.”
Edmund turned his head and looked at his adjutant.
He had a look that said he knew.
It was the eyes of the passionate young man on the southern front, back when everyone had given up.
The eyes of the earnest man who had shouted all alone that they had to recapture the strategic point their ancestors had lost two hundred years ago.
The eyes of an apprentice knight who berated them, asking why they were still unable to shake off the helplessness of those days now that the fever that had been holding them back was gone.
The prince's first image in the adjutant's memory was that sort of man.
“What if the one who infiltrated the academy had been a demon? What if the students had been eaten by monsters? Would the principal have reacted so complacently then?”
“There is no way he would've.”
Richter shook his head.
“He would have immediately gone into battle posture and requested emergency support from the knights order.”
“Exactly. No one ever reacts complacently to demons or monsters. Because there are countermeasures. Because everyone knows they can be tracked, captured, and killed. And because there is hope.”
Countermeasures against demons and monsters had been established over a thousand years.
Even so, there were times when security holes appeared.
But even when that happened, everyone responded quickly.
Not only because they knew the methods well, but because they knew that if they acted fast, there was hope.
Edmund pushed the empty soup bowl aside and said.
“But black magic is different. It can't be tracked, and even if you try to catch it, the culprit is already gone. There's no proper way to stop it. In fact, there have even been cases where, once the truth came out, it turned out not to have been black magic at all, but mere bad luck. For decades, for centuries, it's been like that.”
The prince let out a deep sigh.
“And during that long time, people must have learned something: that in the end, nothing you do will work.”
“Your Highness. Are you saying the principal's negligence wasn't entirely his own fault?”
“Ah, don't misunderstand me. I am not defending that fool.”
The prince waved a hand.
“It was indeed personal negligence. Even if the world made him that way, that fact does not justify his irresponsibility.
What I mean is simply this: if we keep leaving the reasons people become irresponsible as nothing but their own fault, the same thing will keep happening.”
Richter nodded.
It was a nod of understanding.
Edmund confirmed the reaction and fell silent for a moment.
And when he spoke again, Richter realized that the prince's voice had changed.
“...It has not been long since I began to think this way.”
He suddenly placed a hand on the desk and covered his face with his palm.
“When my wife lost our first child, I personally traveled all over the Empire to find the cause.”
Richter swallowed.
The princess consort's miscarriage.
It was a story no one in the court dared bring up lightly.
Richter was no different.
Though they had trusted each other's backs on the battlefield, this was one thing he had never brought up first.
But tonight, the prince had opened that door himself.
“When we lost the second one, I called in healers. Before we even had our third child, I kept healers by our side.”
Edmund's voice was low and even.
But that very evenness only hinted at the weight being pressed down beneath it.
“After losing the third child, rumors began to spread. That my wife and I had fallen under a curse of infertility.”
Richter lowered his head, unable to meet his eyes.
But Edmund's recollections continued.
“Do you remember how the imperial family dealt with it then?”
“...They formed an investigative task force.”
“And the result?”
“...”
“As you know, after a month with no results, the task force was disbanded.”
It was an incident involving the southern war hero and the prince, one of the imperial royals known for the weight of his words.
“Do you know the funniest part? I also half believed that rumor, so I investigated it with great enthusiasm.”
Edmund let out a bitter smile.
“Think about it, Richter. The other royals are all shut away inside the palace. I'm the only one who goes out to the front lines, the only one who stands before people as the head of personnel. I'm in charge of deciding appointments for countless nobles, so naturally I'd have made plenty of enemies.”
Edmund looked down at the empty teacup.
“What better target could there be?”
Richter could not answer.
“I thought I was being rational. But how could you ever find the culprit if there wasn't one to begin with?”
In the end, the task force was disbanded after a month with no clues to show for it.
That was when it began.
That was when the prince started sinking into helplessness.
“After that, I only sought out alcohol. So what if it was a curse? So what if it wasn't?”
And with him, everyone around him sank into helplessness as well.
“Everyone became helpless. Since there was no way to explain it, they pinned it on black magic, but they had no intention of finding the black mage. No one had any will to solve it.”
At the time, the prince's mood had been close to despair.
After separating from his wife, he had simply planned to guard the southern front and spend the rest of his days there.
But then, a miracle came to him.
“Then I met Sir Julian. With a single pill, he solved all our problems.”
But Julian was different from those people.
He neither gave up nor turned away from ignorance.
Without ruling out the possibility of black magic, and after even getting proof that it wasn't that, he went and solved it.
“He was free all on his own. He wasn't caught by helplessness. While everyone else had already decided the answer was a curse and were only asking questions that fit that answer, he alone was charging ahead. Just like I used to.”
Edmund said.
“That was when I realized it. Our greatest enemy is not the black mage. It is stopping our thoughts before black magic. It is giving up on finding the cause. That resignation and helplessness are the very weapons the black mages use.”
Edmund looked at Richter.
“So I'm not planning to change the name of the lecture.”
Richter's eyes trembled.
“Knowing how to respond naturally leads to defense. Just the fact that it can be tracked will make black mages shrink back, and people will no longer keep their heads bowed.”
Edmund declared.
“So then, Black Magic Defense. That is the right name.”
Richter stood there without a word.
The prince's gaze drifted toward the corridor leading to the baby's room.
“Even if we can't wipe out every black mage right this instant, that's fine. Even if it doesn't end in my generation, that's fine.”
Edmund said.
“If I can just leave behind a world for Aster—and for Aster's child—where they do not bow their heads before black magic, that will be enough for me.”
The prince stared for a while at the room where his baby was sleeping.
A long silence settled.
The only sound was the crackling of the candle.
After a while, Edmund took his eyes off the corridor and spoke.
“...Of course, it won't be easy.”
The heat from earlier had ebbed from his voice.
“There will be strong opposition from the House of Nobles. Not only are we spending money to create a new lecture, but we'd be teaching black magic as an official subject. Since the Great Sage destroyed the Black Magic Tower, black magic has been taboo in this Empire. If we try to drag it out into the light, what do you think people will say?”
Edmund held up his fingers one by one.
He could already think of a multitude of objections.
To teach countermeasures, one would naturally have to teach the underlying principles.
And once they knew the principles?
Then someone capable of using black magic would appear.
Among them, some would surely misuse it.
Some nobles would likely worry about that.
Not all nobles would oppose it, but they would face plenty of resistance.
“We also have to consider opposition from the religious circles. They'll probably ask whether we're encouraging heresy.”
Richter listened without saying a word.
“There will also be those who laugh and say it's pointless. They'll ask what a single lecture could possibly change about a problem that couldn't be solved for hundreds of years. They'll say such bravado is what ruins empires. At best it'll be cynicism, at worst mockery. There were voices like that even before we retook the southern fortress.”
Edmund gave a bitter smile.
“And.”
He inhaled and paused for a beat.
“The black mages aren't going to sit still either.”
The prince narrowed his eyes.
“They're the ones who have been freely operating in the dark until now. If someone steps forward and says they'll shine a torch into that darkness... they'll try to cut off the hand holding the torch first. Me included.”
Edmund said calmly.
That calmness was like the expression he wore when told he had to be at the very forefront on the battlefield.
It was the composure of someone who knew he might die, but didn't care anyway.
Edmund shrugged.
“Besides, I'm the sort of man who only knows how to charge ahead.”
Richter could not say anything for a while.
The candle on the table flickered.
In the stillness of the detached palace, Richter recalled a memory from far away.
On the retreating southern front, this man had constantly spoken of the fortress his ancestors had supposedly lost two hundred years beyond that horizon.
In the end, the strategic point was retaken, and Richter never left this man's side after that day.
And now.
The prince was saying he would charge again.
“What do you say, Richter? If you really want, I can let you sit this one out.”
The adjutant let out a bitter smile.
“Your Highness.”
“Speak.”
“My life was supposed to have ended once on that day during the fortress siege anyway.”
For a moment.
The corners of Edmund's mouth slowly rose.
“...Good.”
The prince held out his empty teacup.
“Then bring me another cup of tea before we charge. I was honestly terribly thirsty then.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
The moment Richter lifted the teapot.
From somewhere in the detached palace, the faint sound of a baby whining could be heard.
Edmund's expression changed in an instant.
He perked up and listened toward the corridor.
Even when he had heard the wings of insect-like monsters swarming in, he had never worn such a frightened expression.
“...Woke up?”
—Uuung!
“Oh dear. Colic again? I should get the mint syrup ready.”
Muttering to himself, the prince got up from the table.
Without a word, the adjutant followed behind his superior.