Chapter 24: Morg Camus (5)
"Aaah!"
Camus summoned fire and ice, lightning and boulders, and began pounding the ground.
Vikir narrowly avoided all of them, gradually moving closer and closer to the border with the other side of the performance hall.
"You bastard, don't run away, stick to me!"
Camus shouted, trembling. It seemed to regain some of the confidence it had lost when it was forced to close the distance.
However, the three bumps on his forehead made her look anything but cute to others.
Vikir raised his palm and tapped his forehead three times as he moved to avoid the magic.
The smirk on Vikir's face was enough to make Camus lose his cool.
"I'm not going to let you off easy, you little bastard, not even if you beg!"
As Camus took his final leap, Vikir stopped running.
And that's when Vikir's clever calculations paid off.
...Boom!
The 15-year-old Baskerville and Morg, who had been fighting in the next room, clashed fiercely.
Swords broke and magic burst, sending shards flying in all directions.
The 15-year-old Morg used a massive fire spell that shredded and scattered flames in all directions.
Even Vikir and Camus were caught in its path.
...Boom!
An explosion. And cries of horror.
"Ouch! It's Camus!"
"Oh my God, Camus!"
"No! It's ...!"
The mages watching the tournament from the sidelines were stunned.
But even if it was an accident, it was a fairly minor one.
The flames from the nearby training grounds didn't pose much of a threat.
However.
"Gah!"
Camus screamed as he looked down to see that most of the hem of his clothes had been burned away.
As she hastily stripped off her still-sizzling clothes, she became an underwear breeze in the middle of the training grounds.
Luckily, the flames, smoke, and dust around her hadn't yet revealed her nakedness to others, but... was sure a gust of wind would do it in a few seconds.
Thinking the damage was minor, the guardians outside didn't barge in.
Only a few worried voices could be heard.
"Oh, no, not at this rate...!
The teary, snotty face is not enough, even the underwear-like body is exposed in front of everyone. What an embarrassment!
'What can I do, what can I do, what can I do...'
If I show this kind of behavior, I will lose my dignity in the family.
I had once been kicked out of the house, naked, for talking back to my mother, so the trauma was even more intense.
"Nu, can someone... someone come!"
Camus crouched down, covering his bare skin with his hands as best he could.
Worried about the terrible humiliation that would come in a few seconds.
But then ... just then.
Flutter!
Camus felt the fabric wrapped around his entire body.
It was heavy, but soft fabric.
Raising his head, he saw a black blood-red robe covering his entire body.
"Wear that."
Vikir said. He stood in a blur of underwear in front of Camus.
Camus stuttered.
"...You, huh?"
At that, Vikir shrugged.
"It's a privilege of children to be naked for all to see and not have their honor tarnished."
The idea that it's a disgrace to show what's underneath the clothes is rampant among both genders, but... those are the stories of adults.
Little kids running around naked is not a big deal or an emotional issue or a flaw. Kids can be kids.
...Of course, the child may have a different opinion, but at least that's what Vikir thought.
After helping Camus, Vikir got up from his spot.
Then.
Camus pointed at Vikir's face and stuttered.
"Yaah... you, you are bleeding, you are bleeding!"
Vikir raised his hand and wiped the blood from his forehead.
Apparently, when the magic had been dispersed, the shards of the sword had been dispersed as well.
It wasn't a fatal wound, but it was blood anyway, and in a fight between eight-year-olds, blood is the difference between victory and defeat.
And now.
Whirring-!
A gust of wind blows in, sweeping away the dust and smoke from the stage.
It reveals a dazed Camus, covered in Baskerville's training clothes, and a bleeding, naked Vikir.
It's unclear what happened in the dirt, but everyone could tell that the mood between them was no longer one for fighting.
"...."
The look in Camus's eyes, in particular, tells everyone that the battle is completely over.
That dazed gaze was like a blank slate....
Meanwhile.
The other Baskervilles looked at the naked youngster, who stood tall and proud.
"Ho-ho, did you lose to the Morg woman, or did you win, I can't tell."
"By the way, the young one is very good. He must have been favored by the River Styx."
"Of course, all those lean muscles all over his body. You must be keeping up with your training schedule."
The fight between the eight-year-olds, which had been impressive in many ways, ended somewhat sourly with the loss of Camus.
* * *
After the friendly competition was over.
Hugo pulled Vikir aside in the corner of the arena.
As they walked to the chamber, Hugo turned to Vikir and asked.
"How was the battle with the young lady from Morg?"
"It was interesting. It reminded me of the purpose of the event."
"A battle with a wizard is quite different from a battle between swordsmen."
"I'll keep learning."
Hugo and Vikir chatting away.
If anyone else in the family had seen this, they would have been quite surprised.
Hugo wasn't the type to talk to his children like this.
And Vikir was also feeling quite out of place in this moment.
'What is this, was he always like this?'
I don't actually remember much of Hugo as a child.
He was always cold, strict, and cruel.
Rumor has it that the reason he was so screwed up was due to the bitter loss of his first wife and eldest daughter.
'...Well, that's none of my business now.'
While Vikir mulled this over in his mind, Hugo asked his next question in a blunt tone.
"What do you think of the ruby mine?"
Hugo's core question, a continuation of the argument from before the friendly competition.
At the time, Camus's logic had been, "We can't mine the rubies in Baskerville anyway, so we'll take the mining rights for pennies on the dollar," which was also Morg's demand.
Baskerville, then, has no choice but to give a realistic answer.
Turning to Hugo, who was looking at him with some anticipation, Vikir replied.
"I think it's better to give it away."
Hugo's eyes widened slightly at that.
"You're giving away the mining rights to the ruby mine?"
"Yes."
"On what basis?"
Hugo asked again, and Vikir answered without hesitation.
"The Red And Black Mountains, through which the ruby mines flow, are downstream of the Red And Black Mountains. A little further up, powerful demons and barbarians abound, and I know this because I recently crossed the border into the Forbidden Zone on a practical assessment."
Vikir said, remembering the arrow marks in Cerberus' side.
Meanwhile, Hugo's expression was brightening, albeit subtly.
"Hmm. So?"
"And the Baskervilles have made it a point to expand their borders by opening up those backwoods. If we can use the Morg to our advantage, we can minimize the damage to the Baskervilles' frontier."
Hugo's eyes glowed blue at that.
"Hoo-hoo-hoo, that's the answer."
He understood Vikir's point.
If the ruby mining rights were given away, the Morg would put a significant number of men downstream in the Red and Black Mountains.
Baskerville would then be able to open up the wilderness next to them and drive any demons or barbarians that lived there back to Morg.
When you take territory from demons or barbarians, you must dry up their seeds so that the natives will never seek revenge.
Cutting Root.
I must kill all the demons and barbarians in the land, as well as chase down and kill all those who escape, and then I can take full possession of the land.
Return to the land.
This is because it prevents the departed from gaining strength and returning to take revenge.
But it's a long and painful process to completely exterminate fleeing prey.
So Hugo decided to clear the land and drive all the fleeing demons and barbarians to Morg's ruby mines.
"Hahaha, the rubies will be even redder with Morg's blood. You will regret entering our territory, child of Respane."
Hugo was pleased with Vikir's answer.
The Morg had gotten the ruby, Baskerville had gotten the territory, and the meeting had ended cordially.
"Very well done. A ploy that fits my plan perfectly."
Hugo said, stroking Vikir's head.
Vikir thought.
'Of course it was. The plan came from your head in the first place.'
Vikir knew this well, for before the regression, he had served as a hound to drive demons and barbarians toward the Morg.
For now, however, he must simply lower his eyes and answer politely.
"Still, I think we should carefully monitor the movements of any Morg who have entered our territory, just in case."
"There is no need to worry about that. I have been slowly increasing the number of hounds I have sent there for some time now."
Hugo's answer came as a surprise. Not that the plan was surprising, but that he'd bothered to tell Vikir about it.
Vikir was stunned to realize that Hugo's gaze had softened to the color of tanned leather.
Just as they were about to enter the chamber.
"My Lord."
A voice called out to Hugo from behind.
Where he turned, Morg Adolf stood.
And beside him, he saw Camus, whose eyes were still red.
The way it was clutching at the hem of his uncle's cloak, staring at him, seemed oddly familiar.
Hugo narrowed his eyes.
"Acting Lord Morg, what is it, and do you still have business?"
"I have one very important business to attend to."
"Well, let's go inside and finish it."
Hugo opened the door and stepped into the chamber.
Adolf followed him in and sat down on the couch.
"...."
Camus still didn't say anything.
He merely glanced at Vikir before entering, then dropped his gaze to the floor and walked away.
He still wore the blood robe Vikir had given him after the duel, wrapped tightly around his body.
Adolf said to Hugo.
"The truth is, Morg has been putting a lot of thought into resolving the ruby mine issue amicably, and the rent for the manor is just one of many issues."
"So what, the price of me opening up the lands."
"What about the marriage pact?"
Hugo's brow furrowed slightly at Adolf's offhand remark.
But it wasn't a frown.
Hugo leaned forward and asked.
"Marriage pact?"
"Yes. A marriage between a man and a woman from Morg and Baskerville."
Opening up the lands to another family for money might not look good, so let's paint a good picture by creating a marriage relationship.
But a marriage between Morg and Baskerville, known for their long-standing rivalry, is an awkward and outrageous proposition.
Hugo chuckled at the suggestion, which he hadn't even considered.
"I see. And who does it link to whom?"
"How about this one's eldest daughter and that one's eldest son?"
Adolf turned his head to look at Camus.
Just then, Camus's head snapped up in surprise.
It's a sign of the times.
"He's my nephew," he said, "but he's a great kid. Beauty for beauty, intelligence for intelligence, strength for strength, nothing is missing, and I think she would make a good companion for the little sunshine of Baskerville."
But Hugo didn't care about any of that.
"Hmph. My firstborn is twenty this year. I thought there was quite a difference in age?"
"Eight and twenty. It's only a seventeen-year difference, isn't it? That's easily overcome."
"Adolf was forty years old this year, wasn't he? Do you think he could meet a seventeen-year-old?"
"...."
Adolf suddenly became very quiet.
Hugo threw up his hands.
"Besides, my eldest son is already engaged to be married."
"Is that so, and when...?"
"It's a prenatal marriage. You don't even know."
Hugo's answer gave Adolf a troubled look.
Just then.
Suddenly, Camus raised his head and shouted.
"I will not marry anyone weaker than my mother!"
Her tone was quite confident.
Adolf and Hugo's gazes turned to her.
They hadn't even asked for the child's wishes.
Adolf smiled gently and stroked the camel's head.
"My dear, if you refuse to marry someone weaker than your mother, you will be a virgin for most of your life. Or you'll have to find a man with a huge age gap."
"I'm looking at possibilities, and I don't want a huge age gap. I like people my own age or younger, and there were a lot of people my age in the audience earlier!"
Adolf shrugged at Camus's comment, as if he had nothing to say.
Then Hugo looked at Camus with a hint of irritation.
"Kid, this isn't a buffet."
"I know, and I'm not interested in picking and choosing."
With that, Camus looks up and stares off into the distance.
There, standing in the distance, was Vikir.
Hugo is stroking his chin with his hand when he realizes where Camus's gaze is headed.
"No! You!"
Adolf jumped up and covered the camus's eyes.
"He has the surname of Van, not Les, and you're a dragon from the creek, after all!"
Adolf whispers in Camus's ear, but Hugo, who is now a superhuman, can't help but hear the whispers.
"Hmmm. That's true, but it's kind of pissing me off."
Hugo mumbles a little to himself.
Then he turns to Vikir, who is standing next to him.
"Well, when it comes to marriage, it's what you think that counts. What about you, my son?"
Without hesitation, Vikir answered.
"If you say so, I will obey."
It was a loyal answer.
Hugo laughed heartily at that, and Adolf's face contorted in bewilderment.
If you ask me to do it, marriage is not a timely process.
What a disrespectful way to treat Morg's only child!
Hugo was even openly scratching Adolf's insides.
"In Baskerville, there's no such thing as direct lineage. Inferior things come from the family name of Les, and superior things come from the family name of Van."
" ... Is that what the Lord would say, my friend?"
Adolf looked down at Vikir with a smile on his face.
But the smile was cold and hard.
"I didn't get a good look at you in the training grounds earlier, do you mind if I take a good look at you?"
Vikir finally managed to look up at Adolf, who stood before him.
Sixth Circle Master. A powerhouse at the very top of the Mage House Morg.
A delegate to the Great House and a master of words who is often the go-to person for diplomatic and political matters.
"And known as a terrible nephew fool."
Vikir is alone, mulling over the pre-regression character data.
Adolf leaned closer and whispered in Bikir's ear.
"Child, I don't mean for you to hear this, but.... To be the husband of our camus, you must be of a certain age. It's just a matter of opinion within the family, and personally, I don't think you're even close to being the right man for Baskerville."
The words were spoken with a hint of bravado.
As is characteristic of politicians, Hugo's temper is quite high for a man who had just taken a jab at Camus.
But.
"...."
Under Adolf's pressure, Vikir doesn't move an inch, just stands there with an expressionless face.
In fact, Adolf's brow furrows.
"Why don't you answer me? Are you listening to me?"
Finally, Vikir's mouth opened.
"You said it wasn't for me to hear, so I didn't listen."
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