Chapter 17
For an instant, sharp intakes of breath could be heard all around them.
"..."
The woman resting her fingers on the book slowly raised her head.
Ordinary orange hair.
An ordinary face.
Ordinary clothes.
She looked like someone Riyan might pass more than ten times in an hour if he were walking through a marketplace.
Anyone looking at her would have thought she was an outsider who hadn't managed to become part of the main social circle.
The woman slowly removed her hand from the book and leaned against the back of her chair.
She crossed her legs, lightly touched the teacup on the table, and spoke with a meaningful expression.
"How did you know?"
Gasps spread through the hall.
The unusual reaction made Riyan wonder about something.
Hadn't everyone agreed to deceive me?
Riyan collected his thoughts and nodded slightly.
"I'm a wolf, after all."
He lightly tapped the tip of his nose.
The woman's expression became rather peculiar.
Riyan smiled and turned his head slightly toward the elevated seat beneath the tapestry.
The woman sitting there was still resting her chin on her hand, her arm supported by the armrest.
Her expression remained indifferent.
Looking at her, Riyan spoke quietly.
"She wasn't breathing."
"You could see that?"
"In a gladiatorial match where your life is at stake, you have to pay close attention to your opponent's breathing. That's how I noticed."
"Spoken like a true fighter. But was that your only clue?"
"Unlike the other guests, there was also someone who seemed unusually nervous..."
Riyan paused and glanced toward a maid standing several meters away.
The maid flinched when she met his gaze.
"...And the tea and books you were enjoying provided useful clues as well. They seemed appropriate for someone of your refinement."
That was a lie.
Refinement? What did he care about that?
What mattered was that, of all the teacups scattered across the countless tables in the enormous hall, only the cup at this isolated table gave off the fragrance that was currently stimulating his nose.
The woman lightly tapped the handle of her teacup.
"Are you saying you know what this is?"
"Nocturne Bloom. Tea leaves that grow only in shaded areas of the frozen northern regions. Am I correct?"
Her eyes widened slightly.
"You're more knowledgeable than you look."
It was nothing surprising.
Eldred had been a nobleman and an obsessive tea enthusiast.
As his squire, Riyan had been practically forced to familiarize himself with countless varieties of tea.
Tea after battle had been one of Eldred's favorite pleasures.
The books spread across the table had also provided a decisive clue.
[Annual Statistical Report on Provincial Geography and Military Logistics]
This was supposed to be a salon.
A social gathering.
Yet this woman was sitting alone in a corner, reading instead of interacting with anyone.
And the book she was reading had such an exceptionally dry title.
That left two possibilities.
Either she was an eccentric who didn't care what anyone thought of her...
Or she was someone powerful enough that she didn't need to care.
An eccentric of the first kind probably wouldn't have been invited to the salon in the first place.
As for the second...
Riyan already knew who was hosting this gathering.
It wasn't a difficult deduction.
"Ah, I've been rather late introducing myself."
The woman lightly snapped her fingers.
The figure seated beneath the tapestry instantly vanished.
It was as though she had never existed.
Riyan turned back toward the woman in front of him.
The ordinary orange-haired woman was gone.
In her place sat a woman with familiar red hair and dark crimson eyes, looking up at him.
Magic.
Riyan had suspected that the woman in front of him wasn't showing her true appearance as soon as he realized that the figure in the elevated seat was an illusion.
But even he hadn't expected such a natural transformation.
Unlike the vanished illusion, however, the real woman wore a distinctive uniform and trousers rather than a dress.
"I am Sevanne Eisenhart, mistress of the Arcana Sanctum and host of today's gathering. And you are?"
Arcana Sanctum.
So that was the name of this strange, otherworldly place.
Riyan struggled not to laugh.
"I am Fighter Riyan of the Rodus Training Center."
"Looking up at you is uncomfortable for my neck. Please, have a seat."
Scrape.
Sevanne waved her hand.
The chair opposite her slid backward, creating room for him.
She then flicked one slender finger, and a teacup flew toward the empty place.
When she turned her palm over, the teapot tilted and poured tea into the cup.
Riyan calmly sat down opposite her.
Even then, the hall remained wrapped in silence.
Only their occasional conversation disturbed the quiet.
Sevanne's eyebrows drew together slightly.
She flicked a finger.
"..."
The music immediately changed.
It became brighter, more elaborate, and considerably more energetic.
The musicians were startled.
But as experienced professionals, they quickly adapted to the instruments that had changed the melody without their permission and continued playing naturally.
"Oh my! And then what happened?"
"The leather imported from southern Cormo the other day..."
At the same time, the atmosphere in the hall changed as though nothing had happened.
The guests resumed their private conversations.
A few even began dancing lightly in the center of the hall to the new music.
Sevanne sighed.
"How unfortunate."
"What do you mean?"
"My double was quite effective. Thanks to you, using it will be difficult from now on."
"I apologize for the inconvenience I unintentionally caused."
"Quite an inconvenience."
Sevanne crossed her arms with a slightly irritated expression.
Riyan turned toward the bustling hall and spoke.
"Is it because of the guests who have only recently been invited into your circle?"
"You're perceptive."
Her dark crimson eyes carefully examined Riyan from head to toe.
"It certainly is troublesome. Every time new guests arrive, they bow before me, and I have to welcome them. It would be wonderful if that were the end of it, but then they introduce the long history of their families, recite their achievements, praise the Empire, and compliment my beauty and dress. It's terribly boring, but those are the rules of etiquette. With magic, however, it's simple. The illusion can nod at the appropriate moments, agree with whatever they're saying, and welcome them adequately."
"And meanwhile, you find some peace here. Efficiently."
For the first time, Sevanne smiled faintly at Riyan's words.
"Exactly. Efficiently."
She tapped her teacup again and changed the subject.
"So, what do you want? Having defeated Yavrik, perhaps you'd like praise worthy of your achievement? Unfortunately, I'm not particularly fond of reciting poetry. I could invite a refined poet to the next gathering, but there's no guarantee you'll attend again. Sponsorship would be difficult too. Regrettably, it would ultimately be meaningless."
Meaningless.
It wasn't difficult to understand what she meant.
From what Riyan had heard, the Imperial Arena formed one of the foundations of the Treasurer's power.
If a fighter belonging to that arena received sponsorship from the Military Commissioner, common sense suggested that there would no longer be any reason to keep that fighter alive or help him develop.
If the fighter eventually became a knight and entered the Military Commissioner's service, the Treasurer would effectively have strengthened a rival's forces with his own resources.
Sevanne was pointing out that problem.
Riyan understood it without difficulty.
In any case, he hadn't come here hoping for anything from her.
He had merely wanted to find out where the Rose Fighter was.
He had only approached Sevanne because it was proper to greet the host.
"However..."
Sevanne continued.
"Since you're a guest here, I suppose I can offer you a small gift. Today marks your first official appearance in high society, and that will also contribute to the reputation of the Arcana Sanctum. First occasions are always precious. So, Fighter Riyan, is there a particular Masterpiece you would like?"
A Masterpiece.
Riyan deliberately took a moment to regulate his breathing.
From what he'd heard, the magical weapons known as Masterpieces were operated under the strict supervision of the Imperial Military Commissioner's organization.
And the woman sitting before him was both the Military Commissioner's daughter and an accomplished magician.
It was difficult to imagine she had no connection to them.
"Forgive my rudeness, but may I ask exactly what you're offering?"
"Exactly what I said. The shape, type, or decorations are all possibilities. Is there an object you've ever imagined as a symbol of yourself? If there is, I'll take it into consideration. Although it seems your identity as the White Wolf has already been firmly established. In any case, having a choice is a valuable opportunity."
"I thought only Champions could possess Masterpieces."
"Naturally, I'm speaking of when you become a Champion. Am I getting ahead of myself? I assumed you came here because you possessed at least that much ambition."
What use would a magical weapon be to a knight who didn't use Mana?
At the same time, a concern that Riyan had temporarily pushed aside returned to his mind.
If he continued fighting for the training center, he would eventually become a Champion.
But when that happened, he would be required to accept a Masterpiece.
After all, Masterpieces were a symbol of the Empire's oppression and control of knights.
Would he really be able to refuse one when the time came?
That would be difficult.
He needed to find a solution.
Just then, something occurred to him.
Regrettably...
A moment ago, Sevanne had said that sponsorship would be regrettably meaningless.
There was no point in sponsoring him if there was no way for him to survive afterward.
Paradoxically, that also meant she might be willing to take action if a different opportunity appeared.
"Once I become a Champion, I'll have to abandon my status as a fighter."
"Naturally. An unfortunate precedent has already been established."
She was probably referring to Yavrik.
Despite becoming a Champion, Yavrik had chosen to remain a fighter instead of living as a knight.
That decision had caused the Empire considerable trouble.
They were unlikely to repeat the same mistake.
Sevanne tilted her head slightly.
"I'm not sure what you're trying to say. Please get to the point."
Riyan lowered his head slightly before speaking.
"I hesitated because I thought it might be rude. To put it simply, becoming a Champion isn't my goal."
"...Are you saying you intend to reject the Empire's grace?"
"Forgive my discourtesy. I neglected to explain that there is something I wish to accomplish first."
"I'll forgive you. Then let me ask again. What is your goal?"
"I want to conquer every arena in the Empire, not just the one in the Imperial Capital."
There couldn't possibly be arenas only in the Imperial Capital.
In a sense, it was an obvious assumption.
The Empire was enormous.
And it was undoubtedly benefiting greatly from the arenas.
Naturally, there would be numerous major cities throughout the Empire.
From the Empire's perspective, there was no reason to limit a business that efficiently controlled its citizens and extracted their wealth to the Imperial Capital alone.
Of course, the most remote frontier territories, which existed solely to be exploited for the capital's benefit, might be exceptions.
Even so, the number of arenas would hardly be small.
Their sizes may differ, but they must exist. If only for the sake of Judgment.
Judgment, the Imperial Arena in the capital, existed for the Empire's most distinguished central nobles and highest social classes.
The matches held there always had to be the finest.
That required careful preparation and thorough evaluation.
In other words, even for the sake of the Imperial Capital, there had to be other arenas where experimental matches and new ideas could be tested.
"...Conquer?"
Sevanne murmured, narrowing her eyes slightly.
Something vague seemed to be taking shape in her mind.
An idea she could almost grasp, yet couldn't quite put into words.
Seeing her expression, Riyan nodded faintly.
You'd be wise to think carefully, Sevanne Eisenhart.
The Arena in the Imperial Capital belonged to the Treasurer.
But the person who exercised practical control over the provincial and frontier territories was most likely the Military Commissioner.
And if a member of House Eisenhart needed to keep the Treasurer in check, how would she interpret what Riyan had just said?
I want to conquer every arena.
At first glance, it was merely the bold declaration of an ambitious fighter.
Building a framework around that declaration and giving it political substance would be the work of experienced politicians.
The die has been cast.
Dirty political struggles would soon begin unfolding around him.
If he used them properly, they might even become a compass that would guide him out of the Imperial Capital.
