Chapter 32: The Day of the Banquet

His Highness the Prince?

No way, did I hear that wrong?

That child is His Highness the Prince...?

Rustle!

As if the suppressed silence exploded, a commotion broke out among the people.

Meanwhile, the woman who had been scolding someone and questioning Rohan turned to ice.

“Wh-who... did you say?”

The lady, Glinda of the Reditch family, stammered as she asked Lucretia again.

“Oh my, you all didn't know? That is His Highness Rohan, the Second Prince.”

At Lucretia’s wide-eyed declaration, Glinda’s face went paper-pale.

“T-the Second Prince!”

Glinda hurriedly bowed her head in greeting.

Her hand holding her skirt trembled violently.

“Greetings to Your Highness!”

“We greet a member of the exalted Schubert Imperial Family!”

The other nobles hastily paid their respects, and the maids lowered their heads.

The nobles.

Especially the younger ones who had yet to enter the Imperial Capital, naturally did not recognize Rohan’s face.

That was because Rohan had always stayed inside the palace and never attended any public events.

They only knew that a prince of common birth had entered the Imperial Capital two years ago.

“Weren't you just about to hit me?”

At Rohan’s words, Glinda’s fingers shook even harder.

“T-that was not...! Had I known it was Your Highness, I would never have done such a thing!”

“So if it weren’t me, you’d have hit someone else?”

“That’s not what I...!”

“No more excuses.”

Rohan’s eyes turned cold.

‘As expected, the nobility of this country...’

The proud Schubert of the past was gone.

They had built great houses to help the people, then lesser houses to support those, and that was how the current system of nobility had developed.

But now, the nobles of this country despised the people and were blinded by their sense of superiority.

Their obsession with filling their own bellies and looking better than others was truly lamentable.

“Martin, take care of the child.”

“Yes, understood.”

“Lucretia.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

When Rohan nodded, ever perceptive, Lucretia clapped her hands with a bright smile.

“Everyone, I’m sorry! That’s it for today’s business! Please come back again tomorrow!”

No one dared to object to her words.

With a prince present, it was only right for them to leave.

“Tsk, tsk. See, I told you to take it easy.”

Lucretia clicked her tongue at the nobles as she lowered the shop’s curtains, watching them file out in a huff.

“I always thought Glinda would get put in her place by someone, someday.”

“Is she that famous?”

“Oh yes. Her family is influential and she’s beautiful, so she monopolizes the affection of all the young noblemen. Since her coming-of-age ceremony, her nose has been up here! Really... Don’t even get me started.”

Lucretia waved her hands with a weary look.

Rohan approached the child in Martin’s arms.

“Are you all right?”

The girl's right cheek was swollen red.

She looked to be about eight years old at most.

A child this young had been slapped by a grown adult.

“She’s Glinda’s youngest maid. I think she must have gotten the pattern wrong when placing the order. Glinda tried on the finished dress today and flew into a rage.”

Lucretia spoke with her arms crossed.

“Still... to strike a child so mercilessly.”

At Rohan’s words, Lucretia added,

“Well, it's a matter of degree, but you know how most nobles here don't even consider commoners to be human, right?”

“......”

He couldn’t refute that.

Rohan sighed softly and asked the child,

“What’s your name?”

“Maria.”

The girl, introducing herself as Maria, hesitantly rose to her feet.

Then she bowed deeply toward Rohan.

“Thank you for helping me, Your Highness.”

She looked so composed that it was hard to believe she’d just been beaten so brutally.

That expression made Rohan’s heart ache even more.

As if this was just ‘a common occurrence.’

“Are you going back to the Reditch house?”

“Yes.”

“...Hmm.”

Now, she’d been helped because he was here, but when she returned, the same thing would likely happen again.

“Say, would you like to...”

“Your Highness.”

At that moment, Lucretia called out to Rohan.

She shook her head silently at him.

It meant he shouldn’t say what he was about to.

“I’ll be going now, Your Highness. Thank you again!”

Maria bowed once more and disappeared in a hurry.

“You were going to tell her to quit working for the Reditch family, weren’t you?”

“...Well.”

“If you start helping one child, it’ll never end. If word gets out that His Highness helped her... then people in similar circumstances, adults and children alike, will keep seeking you out. Just like today. This much help is appropriate.”

For a moment, his heart had wavered at the sight of the child.

But Lucretia steadied him.

“If Your Highness truly wants to help children like that, you need to become strong enough to do so. Oh, am I being too forward?”

“No, Lucretia. You’re right.”

Rohan stood up and gazed at the shop door where Maria had disappeared.

Her cool words struck him like a blow to the head.

The greater the power one possessed, the greater their influence on others.

For good, or for ill.

And in times like this—

Having an ally who could say ‘No’ when needed made Rohan truly grateful.

“Where’s my mother’s accessory?”

“I’ll show you right away. Please, come inside.”

Lucretia smiled sweetly and led Rohan into the back of the shop.

---

The next morning.

As soon as the sun rose, Rohan headed for the small training yard in the Boronia Palace.

“Of course.”

There, as always, was Martin, diligently practicing.

Beastlike face and build.

Sweat pouring down, breathing slightly ragged.

“Isn’t it hard, training every morning like this?”

Martin, focused on his sword, turned at the sound of his lord’s voice.

“Your Highness? What brings you here so early?”

Ordinarily, Rohan would still be asleep at this hour.

“From today, I’m going to start getting up an hour earlier.”

“...?”

Martin tilted his head, not quite understanding.

“This—can I try swinging it, too?”

Regardless, Rohan picked up one of the wooden swords lying in the yard.

“Your Highness... wants to swing a sword?”

“I can’t do it as well as a real knight, of course... but I’d still like to know how it feels.”

“It won’t be easy. Your Highness’s stamina is rather lacking.”

“Is that so?”

Rohan chuckled and scratched his cheek.

“By the way, that sword you got in Lochtercia—are you using it well?”

“Ah... yes, I am.”

“Have you tried using it to change color again?”

“I haven’t since that time.”

“Why not?”

At Rohan’s question, Martin shook his head.

“All it does is change color when I infuse it with aura. I haven’t had much use for aura lately, and I don’t feel like using it just to see the color change.”

“Really?”

Rohan clicked his tongue in disappointment.

‘I was hoping he’d figure it out on his own.’

The basic amount of aura, and how the sword would change if he put in more than that.

Rohan had been watching, hoping Martin would realize the true worth of ‘Sunfire’ himself.

But as time passed and Martin still didn’t use the sword properly, Rohan began to get frustrated.

“You know, that color-changing thing. Will you show me again?”

“You want to see it? Of course.”

Martin immediately picked up the sword from its sheath.

Shing!

The blade sparkled dazzlingly in the morning sunlight.

“It’s a well-made sword. Dwarven swords really are light and strong.”

He added quickly, as if worried Rohan might think he wasn’t using the sword he’d been gifted with mithril.

“Just show me. No more excuses.”

“Yes, sir.”

Martin took a deep breath and held the sword in a proper stance.

Zing!

Sunfire began to vibrate.

Soon, a red glow rose up, and the sword revealed its beautiful form.

“But... is this really all there is?”

“What do you mean, Your Highness?”

“Is it really just a sword that looks nice with aura, or could there be more?”

“Hmm.”

Martin’s eyes narrowed.

“I’ve heard every sword has a different aura limit. I wonder what the limit is for a Dwarf-made sword?”

“Ho.”

Martin let out a low exclamation at Rohan’s words.

To know about the aura limit of a sword—a detail even many swordsmen didn’t know.

His lord really did have a knack for surprising people now and then.

Aura Limit.

Swordsmen called this the ‘limit.’

Depending on the quality of the sword, if you put in 100 aura, the sword might only be able to handle 50, or it might take all 100.

That was why, for advanced swordsmen, the price of swords varied greatly and good ones were expensive.

If a swordsman with 100 aura used a sword with a limit of 70, the other 30 was wasted.

“Now that you mention it, I am curious.”

Martin’s ears perked up.

At the same time, a subtle smile formed on Rohan’s lips.

‘Got him!’

Now the only question was whether Martin had enough aura to reach Sunfire’s true limit.

“Shall we... give it a try?”

“Mm-hm, go ahead.”

Rohan’s eyes sparkled as Martin, looking slightly bashful, focused again.

Vroooom!

“Ooh!”

As Martin poured in more aura, Sunfire’s vibration grew more intense.

A blue veil began to form over the blade.

“Ho.”

Even as he kept injecting aura, Sunfire looked perfectly fine. Martin seemed to get competitive.

Vwoooooooom!

The denser aura began to coat the sword, making a chilling sound.

“...Hmm?”

Martin’s eyes narrowed.

“Your Highness, this sword... something’s odd. It’s like it’s devouring my aur—”

“More! Give it more!”

“Eh? Ah, yes, sir.”

Though he sensed something wrong, Martin had no choice but to obey his lord and poured in all his remaining aura.

And then—

“Wa—”

The moment Martin’s pupils trembled with alarm,

Crash!

A thunderclap rang out somewhere, and Rohan’s vision suddenly soared.

“Huh?”

What... is this?

A floating sensation in his body.

Ah, am I flying through the air right now...?

That thought came, and then—

“Rohan!”

A sharp voice rang out, and he felt someone grab hold of him.

That was Rohan’s last memory of that day.