Chapter 18

2. Boyhood

The lively music of the musicians, the lavish decorations adorning the entire castle, the multicolored magic stones glowing like fairy lanterns…

The festival at the duke’s castle celebrating Dale’s tenth birthday was the height of empty ceremony, something the Duke of Saxony himself detested intensely.

It was never for themselves, but solely for the guests who would arrive here.

“Well, well, it’s His Highness the Duke of Saxony!”

“My, just look at these dishes!”

The Emperor’s people. It wasn’t hard to grasp what that meant.

The most powerful faction within this empire. In other words, the central nobility of the Imperial Capital, forming the core of the Emperor’s faction.

“It may not compare to the imperial palace, but this scenery is unbelievable for the heart of the North!”

“Indeed!”

Each wrapped in expensive velvet or silk, unable to hide their excitement as if they were the guests of honor at this festival.

The imperial faction nobles knew better than anyone that they were traveling here acting in the ‘name of the Emperor’. That was the very essence of their existence, and even if the Saxon Duke was their opponent, it made no difference.

“I feel like a fool for having secretly worried about this remote, frozen wasteland!”

The central nobles of the empire always liked to compare the political standing of the Black Count to that territory.

A land excessively vast yet yielding no tangible benefit.

One of the empire’s great nobles, yet simultaneously a political outsider who chose isolation in the northern frontier.

The most formidable force of the empire, and simultaneously the leader of the Black Magic Tower whom all shun and fear.

Yet the fact remained that he was still a Grand Duke of the Empire. No matter how much black magic and necromancy were despised, the military value inherent in that darkness could not be disregarded.

This very tug-of-war between restraint and reverential fear was the essence of the Saxon Duke’s standing within the empire.

Seated upon his throne, the Black Duke merely gazed down upon them with emotionless eyes.

The nobles, indulging in their pastimes, rummaged through his ducal castle as if it were their own home.

Of course, most of the nobles here weren’t even worth calling a threat to the Duke of Saxony. What the Duke of Saxony was wary of wasn’t them, but the very fact of their presence here.

A warning of the apocalypse.

A message from the Imperial Court that it would not tolerate insults directed at the Sacred Sword.

──And the ‘messenger’ who understood that message most clearly appeared before the Duke of Saxony.

“I humbly greet Your Highness, the Duke of Saxony.”

The red-haired man bowed respectfully before the throne. When he smiled, the attention of the noblewomen around him was drawn to him.

“Welcome, Marquis Yuris.”

Dale, too, mechanically paid his respects beside his father, quietly clenching his jaw.

Despite his gentle, soft appearance, Dale never forgot the true monster’s visage he possessed. How could he ever forget that face?

The man known as ‘Lord Crimson’.

Flames and fury… the leader of the Crimson Mage Tower, who pursued order through force.

The Red Mage Tower Lord.

The mages of the Red Tower aligned themselves most closely with the Emperor’s will, never hesitating to become the executors of the empire’s ambitions. For the ‘justice of the strong’ they pursued was the very spirit of the empire’s age.

──He recalls his past life self, subjected to all manner of horrific modification procedures at their hands.

“So this is Prince Dale.”

And that detestable figure quietly smiled at him.

“The prodigy genius of the Duke’s house… I hear you possess magical talent unmatched throughout the entire empire.”

For a moment, the gaze of Marquis Yuris gleamed like a snake eyeing its prey.

“I hear from the connoisseurs that you wiped out a band of orcs to protect your family’s knight?”

He spread his arms wide, exaggeratedly like an actor on stage.

“Such an accomplishment at a mere nine years old!”

“People always exaggerate when they spread tales.”

The Duke of Saxony cut him off flatly, maintaining his endless humility. He understood better than anyone the danger inherent in Dale’s talent.

“Truly the son of His Highness the Duke.”

“He is a child blessed beyond measure, even for me.”

Once more, the gaze of Marquis Yuris turned toward Dale. Just as the elf mage Sepia had done before, he coldly assessed Dale’s talents, seeking to discern the threat he embodied.

Magic is ultimately the embodiment of one’s inner world. And this was no ordinary opponent—the Crimson Flame, said to have reached the pinnacle of pyromancy.

Therefore, discerning the “flame” of seething hatred burning within the heart of a ten-year-old child was by no means a difficult task.

“…….”

But no flames of hatred burned within him.

Only a bitter, biting cold spreads through my chest, as if it might freeze me solid.

“Dale of Saxony, I greet you, Marquis Yuris.”

In the numbing cold that threatened to make her mind go blank, Dale smiled innocently. She wore the guise of a naive ten-year-old child who knew nothing.

Even as night deepened, the festival’s flames showed no sign of dying down. Leaving the birthday celebrations in full swing behind, Dale slipped quietly out of the ducal castle’s banquet hall.

Alone, leaving behind his father, mother, and the maids who attended to her and dealt with the nobles.

──The Crimson Mage Tower Lord, the Blood-Red Duke, personally led the nobles of the Imperial Capital to the Duke’s Castle.

Dale understood the significance of this act even more profoundly than his father.

After the Empire unified the continent, an era of peace and prosperity did not follow.

The Imperial faction, the noble faction, and the resistance forces of the fallen nation, declaring separatism from the Empire and continuing their defiance.

Amidst this chaos, his father’s warning directed at the Emperor’s faction’s trusted confidant, the Sacred Knight, would surely cause no small stir.

‘Must I wield the sword alone?’

Crossing the marble corridor of the Duke’s castle, Dale thought. He would have liked to call Charlotte to spar with him, but officially, Charlotte was Elena’s attendant. In such circumstances, revealing that the ‘Daughter of the Divine Sword’ was practicing swordsmanship would be even more dangerous.

He was struck anew by how blessed his birthplace and upbringing had been.

“Kyaaah!”

It was at that very moment.

A young woman’s shrill scream echoed from nearby.

“Stay still, you damn servant!”

Judging by the voice that followed, it wasn’t hard to grasp the situation. To guess what would happen in the shadowy place outside the competition hall.

“P-please, I beg you! I serve the House of Saxony…”

“Where did a lowly maid get the nerve to invoke the duke’s name?”

The status of a noblewoman ‘maidservant’ and a commoner ‘maid’ was starkly different.

“Ha! The young master’s birthday, this and that—everyone’s just sitting around playing!”

For most nobles, how a maid was treated went without saying.

“Instead of wasting time over there, getting laid is the sensible thing to do!”

One who regards such treatment as commonplace will likewise commit acts of misconduct in another’s household.

Such behavior was unimaginable in the Saxon ducal household, yet it was by no means rare in the empire.

Birth determines rank and class; inferiors can never defy nobility. That’s the world we live in.

“Resist any further and I’ll cut your throat!”

Swoosh.

The sound of a blade gleaming with cold steel. The edge of a stiletto.

“Ahhh…”

Following the pale, trembling voice, Dale moved without hesitation.

Beyond the far corner of the corridor, to that place beyond the Duke’s Castle where the woods lie.

“What are you doing?”

“Prince Dale…!”

At Dale’s voice, the maid who had been struggling against the wall raised her voice.

“……!”

It was Eve, the seventeen-year-old maid who attended to Dale’s daily affairs as always.

“M-Master Dale, is that you?!”

The nobleman, who had been trying to forcibly strip her clothes, turned his head in panic.

The toppling giant, the velvet coat that looked like it would tear at any moment. Seeing the awkwardly pulled-down trouser waistband, an unbearable wave of nausea surged up.

It’s so shabby it’s a waste to even say it’s pearls before swine.

“What were you doing here?”

Dale asked back. The nobleman flinched, visibly flustered.

“W-well, that—”

After hesitating, he flashed a sly smile.

“Young Master! Have you ever had any experience with women?”

After smiling, he made an absurd counterproposal.

“You’ve never tasted the body of a mature maiden, have you?”

The stiletto in his hand slid down Eve’s skirt, between her pert, rising breasts.

“This Petro can teach Prince Dale unimaginable pleasures!”

They must think of Dale as nothing more than a ten-year-old child. Someone they can easily manipulate to suit their own tastes.

Either way, it’s a truly foolish and ugly thing.

“…….”

Dale was so flabbergasted he fell silent. Nausea surged up.

“M-My lord……”

The maid Eve’s face turned pale.

“There’s no need to worry.”

Seeing her reaction, Dale smiled quietly.

“Send her over here.”

Dale said after smiling.

“Can’t you hear me, Prince Petro?”

As Petro hesitated and turned Eve toward Dale, Dale saw this and extended his finger without hesitation.

A bitterly cold magic surged along the tip of his finger. Petro’s face paled and froze as he grasped its meaning.

‘My actions….’

Thud!

But Dale’s ice bullet grazed his cheek and plunged into the castle’s stone wall.

“Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

The nobleman Petro collapsed his massive frame, landing on his butt. Terrified, his body shook violently, and the stiletto in his hand fell limply to the floor.

‘We must consider the consequences for the House of Saxony.’

He had no intention of retreating half-heartedly. Yet, that didn’t mean firing an icy bullet into the ‘Emperor’s man’ without warning was a wise choice either.

“Kneel.”

That was why Dale spoke. The same words his father had once spoken to the Holy Knight.

“Kneel and apologize to Miss Eve for your actions.”

“Wh-what!”

“Can’t you hear me?”

Dale retorted.

“Young Master! There’s no need to concern yourself with me any further…!”

Flustered by the scene, the maid Eve restrained Dale.

“As Eve said, she is one of us ‘Saxon House people.’”

But Dale didn’t back down an inch. Seeing this, Petro swallowed hard. But after swallowing, he bit his lip in stubborn defiance, refusing to submit.

‘This damn brat…!’

His opponent was merely a ten-year-old child.

Even if he was the esteemed eldest son of a duke’s house, he couldn’t just take this one-sided humiliation and insult lying down.

“Young Master, I regret to inform you that I cannot kneel.”

“And why is that?”

Dale retorted. His voice was emotionless, utterly flat.

“I am here in the name of His Imperial Majesty the Emperor!”

Petro raised his voice, swaying his massive frame.

“Your Highness, still so young and inexperienced in the ways of the world! I doubt you grasp the gravity of this matter!”

To manipulate a naive child to suit his own desires.

“To protect the honor of some lowly woman! To insult me for that is tantamount to…!”

“Does His Majesty the Emperor perhaps have a hobby of raping other people’s maids?”

Seeing this, Dale sneered coldly.

“D-d-dare you speak such words now!”

Petro’s expression twisted in horror.

“When Prince Petro says he ‘stands in for His Imperial Majesty,’ is that not precisely what he means?”

Dale asked calmly, and Petro’s lips twisted.

It was at that very moment.

“Over here!”

“What is it, Your Highness!”

By then, members of the duke’s household who had sensed the commotion were searching for them. It wouldn’t be long before his father and the ‘Blood-Red Prince’ in the great hall realized the disturbance and came over.

Nobleman Petro swallowed hard once more.

“This is the last one.”

Dale spoke.

“Kneel.”

Before long, people were approaching. And the look in Dale’s eyes as he stared at Petro was colder than ever.

Father, the Black Count, and Mother Elena, along with the knights and maidservants of House Saxon. The Emperor’s nobles.

In that place where a considerable number of people had gathered, the imperial noble Petro was kneeling.

Toward Dale, and toward the maid standing behind Dale.

“Hmm, this is quite a sight.”

Seeing this, the ‘Blood-Red Prince’, Marquis Yuris, stroked his chin with apparent interest. As if watching some delightful spectacle.

“Dale, what is this commotion?”

Father Black Duke approached with a cold, stiff expression. The situation had spiraled out of control, and the maid Eve’s face turned ashen white.

“This man attempted to assault a maid of our Saxon household.”

But Dale, showing not the slightest sign of intimidation, explained the entire sequence of events.

“De-Dale!”

Elena couldn’t hide her shock and was about to speak when the Saxon Duke quietly reached out his hand, stopping her.

“Is that all it takes to show such disrespect to Prince Peter, who personally journeyed from the capital?”

After stopping him, the Duke of Saxony retorted.

Such a trivial matter. That is the very essence of the standing that exists in this world between nobles and those who are not.

Petro, who had been kneeling, crushed by Dale’s imposing presence, suddenly flushed with color.

“Yes, that’s right! Your Highness! The foolish young prince—”

“Who told you to stand up?”

Dale reached out again toward Petro, who was about to rise. Without a moment’s hesitation.

“Dale…!”

Even the Black Duke seemed startled by that attitude and gasped.

“To the noble guests who have come from the Imperial Capital.”

Therefore, Dale did not hesitate.

“Each of you bears the weighty responsibility of acting on His Majesty the Emperor’s will.”

Dale understood better than anyone the consequences his actions would bring upon House Saxon.

“And yet this man, forgetting his grave duty as His Majesty’s representative, attempted to assault a ‘lowly servant girl’.”

“…….”

“Therefore, I could not tolerate Prince Petro’s disgraceful behavior, which dared to insult His Majesty.”

The Duke of Saxony gasped at Dale’s unexpected response.

“Such a wretch who dares insult His Majesty the Emperor and defiles the food.”

After Dale’s words, silence fell.

“──Ha!”

The silence was broken by the laughter of the ‘Blood-Red Count,’ Marquis Yuris.

“This is truly something.”

Marquis Yuris twisted the corners of his mouth as if unable to contain himself.

“The young prince’s cleverness… is quite a masterpiece.”

Twisting his lips, the Marquis of Yuris continued.

“Your words are truly correct, young prince.”

“You, Marquis Yuris…?”

“To dare, as one acting in His Majesty’s stead, to attempt to assault a lowly servant girl.”

As he affirmed Dale’s claim, Petro gasped in shock, barely able to swallow.

“──Burn, you worthless piece of trash.”

The crimson magic flickering at the tip of the Blood-Red Orb’s finger swiftly raced across the ground.

Whoosh!

“……!”

Fiery flames engulfed Petro’s staggering, massive form.

“Aaargh, AAAAAARGH!”

Petro rolled on the ground, screaming in agony as the searing pain overwhelmed him.

“It hurts, it hurts, it hurts!”

Flame Tongue.

Its practicality in combat was extremely limited, but the true value of this magic lay elsewhere.

Peeling away the skin, caressing every inch of flesh, never ending the agony easily. A bloodless, tearless flame that delivers the most horrific suffering in this world, ever so slowly.

“──I cannot simply look the other way when a fool dares to insult His Imperial Majesty.”

The gaze of Marquis Yuris turned directly toward Dale and the Duke of Saxony.

“For it is my duty to incinerate such vermin who seek to defile the Imperial House and the Empire.”

Without so much as a glance toward Petro, who was screaming in agony, he addressed the father and son of House Saxon.

“The Marquis is correct.”

At those words, the Black Count nodded impassively.

“That is precisely the way of our Empire and His Majesty the Emperor.”

Similarly, he paid no heed to the roaring flames and screams right beside him.

“Is that not so, Dale?”

At his father’s question, Dale also nodded.

“Indeed.”

Petro’s agonized screams had ceased. His flesh, bones, and entrails had melted away, leaving literally nothing but bone dust behind.

A few handfuls of ashes scattered futilely in the night wind.

In the silence, the Crimson-Blooded One’s gaze turned to Dale.

“Your future is truly something to look forward to, Young Master.”

Meeting that gaze directed at him, Dale answered. With the innocent smile of a ten-year-old child.

“You can look forward to it.”