Chapter 2: Chapter 2
Chapter 2 - Have I Returned Again?
"My younger brother is going through with an Engagement to Grand Duke Valdrova?"
The second son, Huren Rosnova, reacted in utter disbelief.
Gray hair and brown eyes.
He was the man responsible for the intellect of House Rosnova, and the one destined to become its next head.
He had recently returned from a business trip to the Empire, where he had gone as the representative of his father, Erembalt.
"Yes, sir."
The butler who had reported the matter nodded.
"Seriously?"
"That is correct."
"That makes no sense. Did that brat misunderstand something?"
"It appears he fully understands what it means."
"Well... if even my elder brother understood it, there’s no way that fool wouldn’t."
Huren scratched his chin.
No matter how much he thought about it, he couldn’t understand the situation.
’When his only choices are death or leaving... why did that fool choose death?’
Was he trying to prove to Father that he was a real man?
But the decision had already been approved by the Empire.
Since he had accepted it instead of refusing it, there was no turning back.
The same applied to Ferda.
If he suddenly declared, "I’ve changed my mind. I’ll just leave this house", he would be judged to have violated Imperial law, and his head would promptly be separated from his body.
"So, what’s that brat doing now?"
"He is scheduled to depart today. He is most likely preparing for the journey at this very moment."
"I see. Then there’s still a little time for brothers to have a talk."
Hearing those words, the butler inwardly looked utterly dumbfounded.
The first person to despise and ostracize Ferda for being the son of a concubine with blue eyes had been none other than Huren himself.
For him to speak of brotherhood now was almost laughable.
With his hands clasped behind his back, Huren strolled through the hallway as though taking a leisurely walk through the garden.
When he arrived outside Ferda’s room, several maids who should have been attending him were standing outside the door.
"Why are you all standing out here instead of attending to him?"
Startled, the maids quickly bowed and explained themselves.
"W-We offered to assist the young master, but... he ordered us to wait outside..."
"How absurd. So you’re actually just standing here waiting?"
"Y-Yes..."
"What a pathetic bunch. Don’t tell me that fool intends to dress himself. He’s still a noble. How could he possibly manage that?"
Though Huren grumbled irritably, inwardly he was delighted.
’Just as I thought! Now that the day has actually come, he doesn’t want to go.’
After clearing his throat, Huren flung the door open.
"Ferda! You useless brat! Instead of getting ready, what are you—"
The words caught in his throat.
The Ferda he had imagined was someone sprawled across the bed, whining that he didn’t want to leave.
Instead, what stood before him was—
’He’s dressing himself?’
Ferda was calmly fastening the buttons of his clothes while looking into a mirror.
"Shouldn’t you knock before barging in, Brother?"
Instead, Ferda had created a situation where he could calmly point out Huren’s own rudeness.
"I thought you’d still be hiding in bed."
"Why would I? On such an important day, how could I possibly waste time?"
"Then why are the servants waiting outside?"
"Because I’m perfectly capable of putting on my own clothes. Besides, I won’t have maids to help me anymore."
His tone was calm.
His eyes remained fixed on the mirror as he carefully inspected his appearance.
Huren blinked while staring at him.
’Is this really the Ferda I know?’
What kind of person had Ferda always been?
A parasite wearing the skin of a human, smiling obsequiously just to survive.
But now?
He was as composed and dignified as a seasoned middle-aged man.
’For someone like Ferda...’
For the first time in his life, Huren actually felt a sense of tension from Ferda.
Trying to suppress his unease, he gave a dry cough and changed the subject.
"Ahem. I heard you’ve accepted the Engagement with Grand Duke Valdrova."
"Yes."
"If you’ve read even a few books, then you should know exactly what that Engagement means."
"I know perfectly well. Isn’t it simply another way of saying, ’Stop hanging around House Rosnova and get lost’?"
"Why put it like that? No matter what, the Rosnova family isn’t going to send you away without giving you a single coin. They’ll at least provide enough to help you stand on your own."
Ferda thought to himself.
Money...
Yes.
They would give him money.
But how much?
Enough for ten years.
The problem was that it was enough for commoners to live for ten years.
For Ferda, who had grown accustomed to the lifestyle of a noble, it was such a trivial amount that he could spend it all within three days.
’Though I ended up giving every last coin to my master anyway.’
Not because he wanted to.
It was simply because the only Mage willing to take in an older disciple was one obsessed with money.
The man hadn’t taught him particularly well, but merely gaining access to magical knowledge had been worth the cost.
’That old man is probably still chasing money and women even now.’
Recalling those days, Ferda let out a faint snort.
’That brat... laughed?’
No matter how Huren looked at it, Ferda had to be misunderstanding something.
Otherwise, there was no way he could possibly be smiling so calmly.
"It really seems you’ve misunderstood. Do you know why becoming the fiancée of the Dragon Queen means certain death?"
"Of course I do. Didn’t her first fiancé get torn to pieces?"
Valdrova’s first fiancé had been the Empire’s Third Prince.
He was also the current Emperor’s uncle.
Gifted with extraordinary intelligence, outstanding looks, and beloved by everyone.
He had even been mentioned as a future Emperor, though he had personally declined the position.
Yet that very Third Prince hadn’t merely been torn into three pieces.
His body had been pulverized so completely that it was impossible to recognize him.
It had happened less than a day after arriving at the Grand Duke’s estate.
From that incident, people eventually reached a single conclusion.
—The only person qualified to become Valdrova’s fiancé must surpass even the Third Prince.
Afterward, Valdrova sought another fiancé.
Not a single person volunteered.
The Third Prince had already been nearly perfect.
Who could possibly possess abilities surpassing his?
Even so, a selection still had to be held every year, so one noble was chosen annually.
The problem was that every single candidate either fled or voluntarily abandoned their noble status.
As time passed, the tradition gradually took on an entirely different meaning.
Eventually, it became nothing more than an excuse nobles used whenever they wanted to cast one of their children out of the family.
"Do you honestly believe you can accomplish what even the Third Prince couldn’t?"
Could he?
"I don’t know."
To be honest, he wasn’t confident.
Even Ferda, who had proven his abilities by becoming the youngest-ever Grand Mage to reach the Eighth Circle, couldn’t confidently claim that he could succeed.
But Ferda had never been the kind of man who only acted after gaining absolute certainty.
"Well... I’ll simply find out little by little."
Huren thought Ferda was recklessly foolish.
Looking at him with exhausted eyes, he issued a warning.
"I don’t care whether you succeed or fail, but don’t even think about running away."
"..."
"The moment you flee, House Rosnova will send people after you and cut off your head. Understood?"
Normally, Ferda would have turned pale with fear upon seeing that expression.
But now, he simply looked Huren straight in the eyes without revealing the slightest emotion.
"Brother."
For a brief moment, Huren found himself overwhelmed by that gaze.
"W-What?"
"You should worry more about keeping your lower half under control. Every time you look at Sister-in-law, everyone notices those disgusting eyes of yours."
Huren’s face instantly turned bright red.
"W-What?! Y-You... what are you talking about...?!"
"Even if you want to hit me, please restrain yourself. I’m about to walk straight into a dragon’s jaws, so I’ll be taking my leave."
Patting Huren lightly on the shoulder, Ferda walked past him.
Huren simply stood there, blankly staring at Ferda, who now carried himself with a maturity and composure far beyond his years.
***
"It has been an honor serving you, Young Master."
The butler, seeing him off on what everyone believed to be his final journey, shed tears.
Ferda quietly looked into those tearful eyes.
’Words he doesn’t mean.’
If those tears held any genuine emotion, they represented relief rather than sorrow.
Serving a useless young noble with no talent or value was nothing short of humiliation for a servant of a noble house.
’Was this one also the bastard who tampered with my meals?’
Back then, he hadn’t known.
When the floor had been made slippery so he would fall...
When he vomited halfway through every meal...
He had simply believed it was because his body had always been frail.
How could he have imagined that the servants themselves were responsible?
Under normal circumstances, such memories would have filled him with hatred and an overwhelming desire for revenge.
The greatest mercy he could have shown them would have been killing them so swiftly they never even realized they had died.
’But what meaning does any of that have now?’
The current Ferda was completely at peace.
The raging flames had long since vanished.
Only tranquility remained.
He had already completed his revenge once before.
There was no reason to cling to that past anymore.
So Ferda simply patted the butler on the shoulder encouragingly.
"You’ve worked hard. Looking after someone like me all these years couldn’t have been easy."
"...Pardon?"
The butler, who had merely been pretending to cry, was so startled that his tears vanished instantly.
"Take good care of House Rosnova after I’m gone."
"Y-Yes..."
Without another word, Ferda turned and walked away.
For someone supposedly marching toward his death, he looked remarkably calm.
As soon as he stepped outside the mansion, the servant who had been waiting for him bowed respectfully.
"My name is Hans, Young Master. I will be serving as your coachman for the journey to your destination."
"A coachman?"
"Yes, that’s right."
Ferda tilted his head.
"So I’m traveling by carriage?"
"Eh? O-Of course. By carriage. What else would you be traveling in?"
"Hmm... I see."
"Is something the matter?"
"No, nothing. It just feels... strangely nostalgic."
"Ah, I see... ...Huh?"
No matter how hard he thought about it, the coachman had no idea what Ferda meant.
"Then we’re setting off!"
Neigh!
The horses snorted as the sound of hooves echoed.
The carriage began to roll forward.
’It’s been a very long time since I last rode one of these.’
In the last future Ferda remembered, carriages had disappeared.
More accurately, they had become vehicles reserved for middle-class citizens, where even the concept of a carriage had grown somewhat vague.
’Because Mana Vehicles eventually took their place.’
At first, people opposed them, claiming they destroyed tradition.
But before long, their superior control and vastly greater comfort made them the preferred means of transportation among the nobility.
’Then Sky Carriages were invented... and after that, all sorts of other models appeared.’
Every one of them had been products of Magitech Engineering.
’Though none of that ever concerned me.’
To Ferda, who had spent his entire life pursuing nothing but revenge, it had been a branch of magic that never interested him.
’Magic...’
Ferda had reached the Ninth Circle, a feat no one else had ever accomplished, and had even cast Wish Magic.
But the Ferda of today was no longer the Grand Mage of the Ninth Circle.
’The weak and constantly underestimated Ferda.’
Naturally, he was now far removed from magic.
He would awaken his magical talent only after leaving home.
But the Driving Force behind that awakening had been nothing but rage and vengeance.
The current Ferda possessed neither burning fury nor razor-sharp hatred.
It was only natural that his power had yet to awaken.
’And I don’t want it to happen that way ever again.’
Looking back, the magic Ferda wielded had been much like a drug.
At first it felt exhilarating.
But the more he used it, the higher his tolerance became, until it eventually consumed him completely.
While he had been insane, everything had seemed refreshing and intoxicating.
Now...
It was simply a horrifying memory he never wished to relive.
The bitter tranquility he now possessed suited him far better.
’That said... I don’t intend to live without using magic either.’
Life without magic was incredibly inconvenient.
Take getting dressed by yourself, for example.
Upon reaching the Third Circle, one could manipulate simple clothing through magic.
By the Fourth Circle, one could analyze the intricate structure of formal attire and command magic to dress them automatically.
’If I want to live comfortably on my own, I’ll need to reach at least the Fourth Circle.’
Anyone overhearing him casually speak of reaching the Fourth Circle as though it were nothing would have been utterly speechless.
Yet the overwhelming emotion he felt was uncertainty.
He had once reached the Ninth Circle, but not by a path he truly understood.
Without rage or vengeance...
What would Ferda need in order to awaken his magic?
"M-My lord...!"
Just as the question crossed his mind, the frightened voice of the coachman rang out.
That alone was enough for him to understand.
"W-We have arrived!"
***
The carriage stopped in the middle of a forest.
Ahead, beside the road, stood a single sign.
—Beyond this point lies the domain of the Grand Duke. Entry beyond this point is strictly forbidden.
This was as far as the carriage could travel.
"You’ve done well."
Ferda stepped down from the carriage.
The coachman unloaded his luggage and stood beside it.
"You may head back now."
"But... I should at least wait until someone comes to receive you..."
A stubborn excuse that wasn’t even convincing.
He had undoubtedly been ordered to keep watch and make sure Ferda didn’t try to run away.
"A dragon will be arriving here shortly."
"A-A dragon?"
"Probably not the dragon itself. More likely one of its blood descendants... a Spawn. But to people like you, there’s little difference."
Cold sweat trickled down the coachman’s forehead.
His Adam’s apple bobbed nervously.
Ferda gestured toward the horses with his chin.
"Even if you somehow managed to endure the dragon’s presence, those animals won’t. If the horses panic and you can’t make it home, you’ll be the one who suffers."
"Ah..."
"So report that you’ve safely delivered me here and return. If you die, none of it will matter anyway."
"I-I understand."
The coachman no longer argued.
He climbed down and set a large travel bag beside the carriage.
"Then this humble servant shall take his leave! Please stay healthy, my lord!"
The very man who had claimed he would stay to escort him didn’t even look back.
He whipped the horses around and hurried away so quickly that the rear of the carriage bounced violently.
Using the sturdy travel bag as a makeshift chair, Ferda sat down and waited.
"The Grand Duke’s territory..."
A short while later...
A sudden wind swept through the forest.
Ferda raised his head toward the dark woods.
A young girl stood there.
She wore a maid’s uniform and had beautiful silver hair.
But appearances were deceiving.
She was a Dragon Spawn.
"Are you Lord Ferda Rosnova?"
She asked politely.
"That’s right."
"I shall escort you to the castle. This way, please."
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