Chapter 40
"I am terribly sorry for all the trouble I have caused."
Henrik Blanke, Margrave of Valmvelk, bowed with utmost sincerity.
Isaac stepped forward to face him.
"Please, raise your head, Lord Valmvelk. Everyone here understands that you acted out of concern for your family."
"Pardon me, but you are...?"
Despite his puzzled expression, Henrik straightened his posture. He must have realized at a glance that Isaac was no ordinary person.
Isaac smiled with the polished elegance of a second prince.
"I am Felix Arc Ridill, Duke of Erin."
"...! Why, you must be the famed Prince Felix... We have even heard in our Empire that you possess an exceptionally fine character."
"The honor is mine."
Nearby, Isaac and Henrik exchanged friendly words while Glen gazed at the 〈Cannonball Mage〉 with shining eyes.
"That magic you used earlier was freakin' awesome! The flames went whoosh-whoosh-whoosh, then BOOM!"
"Gahahaha! You get it, kid. Listen up and remember this: when it comes to weird, incomprehensible things like curses, the best way is to blow them away with a big blast of high-density magic."
"I don't really get the 'high-density' part, but it was totally different from my magic! So awesome!"
As Glen clenched his fist and passionately explained, his master Louis adjusted his monocle and said,
"Well, the truly impressive part was my barrier magic, which kept the mansion from suffering so much as a scratch even when I was blasted by that high-density magic."
"If I cut loose with a sixfold enhancement, though, I'd reduce any barrier to dust."
At Bradford's boastful words, Louis's thin eyebrows twitched upward.
"My defensive barrier would remain completely unscathed even after taking a sixfold enhancement. Got a problem with that?"
"The moment I break your barrier, it's my win. The only thing I've failed to completely destroy with a sixfold enhancement is Raul's Thorn Fortress."
"Hahaha, my thorns' strong suit is their regenerative power."
Raul laughed cheerfully at Bradford's mutter.
Raul spoke as though it were nothing special, but what he was saying was actually quite astonishing.
He was saying he could withstand a full-power strike from the 〈Cannonball Mage〉, the mage with the greatest firepower in the kingdom.
Louis's barrier magic was more versatile, but the Thorn Fortress, which continued regenerating until Raul's magical power ran dry, could sometimes surpass Louis's barriers in strength.
"That's it! Let's have a magic battle between the Seven Sages for the first time in ages! Monica, you're in too, right?"
At Raul's suggestion, Monica, who had until then limited herself to listening, opened her eyes wide in alarm.
"H-huh!? N-no, n-n-no, I'll just watch...!"
"Team up with me! If you fire off silent spells from inside the Thorn Fortress, I think we could beat Mr. Bradford and Mr. Louis!"
The two who reacted to Raul's words were a pair of terribly immature middle-aged men.
Louis cracked his knuckles, while Bradford smacked his fist into his palm with a sharp crack.
"Well, well, well. The young'uns certainly have a lot to say."
"All right, let's make it loud and flashy. We'll teach you young pups what us elders can do."
At Louis and Bradford's words, Monica turned deathly pale and began to tremble violently.
Cyril watched the exchange silently from a distance.
(Why am I here?)
As Second Prince, Isaac was settling things while negotiating with Henrik.
And Monica, as one of the Seven Sages, stood shoulder to shoulder with the others as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
Monica's defensive barrier against curses had been nothing short of remarkable. Barriers against curses were difficult enough in themselves, and she had cast one without an incantation.
This was not the first time Cyril had seen Monica use silent magic, but watching her cast such a high-level spell without an incantation drove home once again just how extraordinary she was.
And he was forced to confront his own shortcomings.
Cyril turned his back on Monica and the others and quietly left the area.
(...I am utterly inadequate.)
Today, Cyril had been forced to confront his own shortcomings at every turn.
He had not even been able to properly handle the marriage proposal from Lady Aurelia.
When Ray went berserk under a curse, he had been unable to do anything.
Having been recognized as the successor, he must have let his guard down. He needed to tighten his resolve once more and do what he was supposed to do.
(...First, I need to clarify my goals.)
Cyril called to mind what he aimed to achieve.
To live up to his adoptive father's expectations. To make his birth mother happy.
And then...
──Lord Cyril is amazing!
──So... please don't say bad things about the Cyril-sama I admire...
What came to mind was a small girl looking up at him.
When Monica had said those words to him in the past, Cyril had felt as though he had awakened.
While wishing for someone to acknowledge him, the one person who had failed to acknowledge Cyril was Cyril himself.
Monica was poor at asserting herself loudly. How much courage must it have taken her to say those words at the time?
A girl who was shy, inarticulate, and timid... yet diligent and earnest, moving forward one step at a time despite her trembling, had told him that he was "amazing."
That was why he wanted to help her.
If she was ever in trouble, he wanted to help her. He wanted to reach out a hand.
More than anything, he wanted to be someone she could rely on.
(In other words, I want Monica to respect me as her senpai.)
From now on, he would conduct himself in a manner worthy of Monica's respect as her senpai.
Just as Cyril reached that conclusion...
"U-um, Cyril-sama..."
The voice calling him from behind made Cyril's heart leap.
When he turned around, the very girl he had just been thinking about came running toward him, dragging the hem of her bright-red dress along the floor.
Worried inwardly that she might trip over the hem again, Cyril walked toward Monica.
"Did you need something from me?"
"U-um, I, well, er..."
Monica released the hand clutching her skirt and fidgeted with her fingers while looking down.
Seeing her like this, it was hard to believe she was one of the Seven Sages.
Even so, she seemed to have grown a little taller over the past two years. She still looked younger than her actual age of nineteen, but since she was wearing light makeup today, no one would mistake her for a child in her early teens.
The bright-red dress she was wearing now was regrettable, but the pale-blue dress she had worn earlier had suited her very well.
As Cyril thought this, Monica seemed to steel herself, lifted her face, and opened her mouth.
"C-c-congratulations on your e-engagement—"
Before Monica, whose enunciation was even more suspect than usual, could finish, there came the soft sound of fabric falling.
Cyril and Monica froze.
Because the red dress Monica had been made to wear was far too large, it had actually been held in place with thread that slightly tightened it around the bust.
That thread had apparently snapped.
The dress had not come completely off, but one sleeve had slipped down, exposing a slender shoulder, and, worst of all, the fabric at her chest had fallen low enough to reveal her corset.
"Aaaaaaaah!?"
Monica let out a voiceless scream as she desperately tried to pull up the slipping dress. But whenever she tried to raise one sleeve, the other slipped down, and the fabric at her chest continued to fall lower.
As Monica made tearful little 'au, au' noises, Cyril reflexively took off his jacket and draped it over her.
"Put this on and hide in a room nearby! I'll have the servants bring you a change of dress immediately!"
"Y-yes!!"
Cyril immediately looked away from Monica and began walking briskly in search of a servant.
His face was bright red all the way to his ears.
＊ ＊ ＊
Monica, wearing the jacket she had borrowed from Cyril, watched his retreating back for a while before sinking limply into a crouch.
She placed a hand against her flushed cheek, and her small lips trembled.
"......So embarrassing..."
Someone had been watching Monica's crouched, embarrassed figure from around the corner of the hallway.
A prince with long, slender limbs and a beautiful face any girl would envy—Isaac, who had followed Monica.
Isaac watched Monica's back for a while, then quietly left without letting her notice him.
If he spoke to Monica now and she asked him in her usual manner, 'What's wrong, Ike?' he was not sure he could smile as he usually did.
As Isaac walked briskly down the hall, the prophecy of the 〈Star-Seer Witch〉 echoed in his ears.
──Someday, you will lose half the world reflected in those eyes.
Family, his best friend, his own face and name... What would he lose next?
(If you were here, kind prince, what would you do at a time like this...?)
The voice murmuring the name of his late friend, Arc, trembled as though clinging to that name.