Volume 1: Enrollment at Magias Academy of Magical Arts
Chapter 10: It Wasn’t a Date
When I returned home and showed the letter to Aunt Coffey, she remained silent for a while before declaring:
“This is a love letter.”
“Y-You really think so?”
Including my previous life, I’d never received anything like it, so I couldn’t judge.
That was why I’d shown it to my worldly and experienced aunt and asked for her opinion.
“She might even confess her love.”
“Seriously?”
I’d barely experienced school life, but was that how these things worked?
Was she truly correct? Could I trust this?
Aunt Coffey said strange things fairly often.
“Leaving aside whether it actually goes that far, this girl comes from an excellent family. You should wear something proper.”
“…That makes sense.”
Considering the Meltzeria family’s status, even my clothing would be evaluated.
If I arrived in careless everyday clothes, Mercedes might mock me: “My, what a splendid outfit. Would you kindly introduce me to your tailor?”
“B-But Aunt Coffey! I grew up in the countryside. I don’t know the capital’s fashions!”
“Leave it to me. I’ll choose your clothes.”
“As expected of you! I can always rely on my aunt!”
“Follow me, boy.”
And so, in an inexplicably intense mood, we charged into the city.
◇
The weekend arrived.
I visited a residential district in the northern part of the royal capital.
According to Aunt Coffey, the area had the most expensive land around.
Every house I saw had a spacious garden and tall walls.
Even the occasional pedestrian wore clothing from a clearly different price range than mine.
Still, I was dressed at least well enough for the occasion.
I hadn’t expected a collared shirt to feel this uncomfortable.
Following the address in the letter, I reached the correct neighborhood.
One mansion stood on grounds even larger than those around it.
It was the Meltzeria family’s secondary residence.
Its gate was made of black cast iron and bore an emblem shaped like a sword.
That must have been the family crest.
Apparently, Mercedes’s family home stood in western Griefia.
Families of their status generally maintained a principal residence in the provinces and a smaller mansion in the capital for use during visits.
“Smaller” still meant grounds five times larger than an ordinary property.
They could certainly maintain an impressive kitchen garden here.
Two gatekeepers wearing something resembling military uniforms stood outside.
When I produced the invitation, one immediately straightened.
“I’m Brendan. Miss Mercedes invited me.”
“We’ve been expecting you. Please enter.”
I stepped through the gate.
A taciturn, older male servant guided me from the front entrance.
“My name is Gorafim. Welcome, sir. The young lady awaits you inside.”
I followed him through the mansion and opened a door leading to the garden.
Judging by how he walked, this elderly man was no ordinary civilian either.
“My lady, Mr. Walker has arrived.”
The scent of flowers tickled my nose when we stepped into the sunlit garden.
Just as the letter promised, the flowers had indeed reached their finest bloom.
A white stone terrace lay ahead.
Beside the table placed there, Mercedes elegantly admired the flowers.
Her brown hair wasn’t in its usual style, but fell loosely around her shoulders.
Nor did she wear the uniform I knew from class. Her clean white dress exposed her shoulders, making it slightly provocative.
When she noticed me, Mercedes slowly rose and bowed with refined grace.
The atmosphere itself seemed to ring sharply.
“Welcome, Mr. Brendan Walker.”
Her usual aggressive smile was absent.
Today, Mercedes greeted me with a softer expression.
◇
“Thank you for coming all this way.”
“The opportunity doesn’t come often. I’m glad you invited me.”
The deferential Mercedes before me was completely different from the one in class.
I should probably treat this not as cheerful conversation between classmates, but as a formal social occasion.
“I’ll have the tea prepared. Please sit.”
Before I noticed, the butler had pulled out a chair.
I sat at Mercedes’s invitation.
“About today…”
“Yes. As I explained, I wished to give you some relief from the fatigue of your daily duties.”
Then she really did—
No. Thinking carefully, Mercedes and I weren’t close.
But I could sense that, as a classmate, she was making an effort to improve our relationship.
Being too suspicious would be rude.
“Thank you for waiting. Emerissa first flush. Please enjoy the fragrance of young leaves still bearing the dew of spring.”
With Gorafim’s brief explanation, amber liquid poured into an ornate teacup.
I’d seen this tea set through Grandpa’s work. It was a masterpiece from a famous workshop and needed careful handling.
I wasn’t familiar with such customs, but I at least knew to check the aroma first.
Then I slowly tilted the cup to my lips.
I see. The tea had a complicated taste. It was like… well…
Grass?
Good grass?
It wasn’t raw or bitter, but tasted like extremely pleasant-smelling grass.
“How is it?”
“Delicious.”
“I’m glad. Tea leaves grown in Homura’s highlands are excellent, so I enjoy them often. We also use soft water to preserve the shape of the aroma. I’m pleased it suits your taste.”
That was the tea she mentioned in the letter.
Putting everything together, this was Emerissa first-flush black tea from Homura’s highlands, brewed with soft water.
That’s far too long.
“You must be tired from your duties as faculty representative. Have you adjusted to life in the capital?”
“Not yet. I still haven’t explored much.”
“Then perhaps I could show you around someday, as thanks for everything you do for us.”
“It isn’t anything that impressive…”
“Such modesty. You keep us organized while conducting research late into the night. I sincerely admire you.”
This much praise was embarrassing.
The difference from her usual behavior also felt strange.
“I’ve had my eye on you for some time, Mr. Walker.”
“For some time?”
I lifted my cup as I repeated the phrase.
“Your movements during the field lesson were remarkable. You tried not to stand out, but I could tell.”
“You’re overestimating me.”
“Above all, that beautiful magic sword. Did you make it yourself?”
Because we’d barely spoken, Mercedes probably didn’t know I spent all my time forging magic swords.
Deepening our acquaintance now might make many things easier.
“Yes. I made it.”
“Splendid. To forge such a sword at your age…”
“Do you like magic swords?”
“Naturally. The Meltzeria family is a line of swordsmen raised to nobility through military achievement.
“As a child, illustrated catalogs of magic swords served as my picture books.
“Our family vault holds a great many blades, and I flatter myself that I know most magic swords, ancient and modern, from every land.”
As expected of a daughter of the high nobility.
Magic swords varied enormously in quality, but some could purchase a castle, while others had no price at all.
“If I were to compare your blade to something, it resembles the work of the great hero Lord Van in his youth. Did you perhaps use his magic swords as your reference?”
“Uh… More or less…”
When I gave a vague answer, Mercedes brought her hands together lightly and blossomed into an elegant smile.
“I knew it. The shaping of the ridge and the way the waves of the temper line settle are extremely similar.
“The magic swords he created at his height remain carefully preserved as national treasures.
“It is only natural for a magic-sword smith to admire him. He is also one of the mages I respect and aspire to emulate.”
I’d heard that many mages admired Van of the Treasured Sword, the hero of the Dragon-Sinking Campaign.
It was also true that Refinement technology had advanced by decades because his blades established a new standard.
“Incidentally, Mr. Walker, do you know Lord Van’s full name?”
I silently reached for my cup.
It was only an impression—
but at that moment, I realized Mercedes had no interest in me personally.
“Few people know this, but apparently his true name was Van Walker. Hee-hee. By a curious coincidence, you share a surname.”
“………”
“Oh, I shouldn’t. So many similarities invite the strangest imaginings. But Walker is such a common name. I’m sure I’ve simply misunderstood—”
“Van Walker was my grandfather.”
Mercedes stopped.
Her previously eloquent tongue fell silent.
“Anything else you want to ask?”
Several seconds passed in silence.
Only the gentle breeze stirring the plants could be heard.
“…I see. So you admit it.”
“I’ve never hidden it.”
I’d heard that Grandpa manipulated information when he was younger because he disliked the trouble and didn’t want his real name discovered.
But that was long ago.
At least after I was born, he hadn’t behaved as though he needed to conceal it.
I’d understood that conversations like this would reach me sooner or later.
I simply hadn’t expected a classmate to initiate one.
“…Then the rumor that the great hero Van spent his final years with an apprentice in an unexplored region was true.”
“At least, I lived with Grandpa from the day I was born.”
“And did you inherit all of Van’s techniques?”
“I don’t know about that.”
I shook my head lightly.
Without realizing it, I’d folded my arms.
“My magic swords are mine alone.
“Grandpa and I approach them in fundamentally different ways.
“If what you want is one of Grandpa’s swords—”
“Don’t look down on me.”
Mercedes set down her cup.
It made no sound, but the atmosphere between us tightened.
“I can distinguish genuine work from false.
“That blade unquestionably inherited Lord Walker’s design philosophy.
“And you possess extraordinary Refinement technique. There is no reason he wouldn’t pass it down to his own flesh and blood.”
Mercedes had returned to her usual expression.
It was the face she often wore at Magias—a pasted-on smile that intimidated others.
“You know, don’t you? How to forge a holy sword.”
So that was the entire reason she’d called me here.
“What if I do?”
“Forge a holy sword for me.”
“What would you do with such a thing?”
“It’s an unavoidable step toward becoming the Sword Saint.
“Modern magical combat isn’t so forgiving that skill alone can overcome everything.”
It was true that generations of Sword Saints had never compromised on magical catalysts, any more than they’d compromised on ability.
This wasn’t limited to swordsmen.
I understood that reality could force even a fighter as proud of her skill as Mercedes to rely on a tool.
If she sought the solution in Van Walker’s swords, then appealing to me was indeed the shortest path.
“In other words, you want the same kind of sword the previous Sword Saint wielded?”
“Yes.
“Aren’t you also searching for a wielder worthy of the Walker name?
“Would I be inadequate? Naturally, I would reward—”
“Sorry, but I can’t forge a magic sword for anyone.”
Mercedes’s smile vanished.
It was the first time I’d seen that expression.
“I apologize for disappointing you, but if you want to commission a weapon, ask someone else.”
For a certain reason, I had no right to accept commissions for magic swords.
Entrusting a holy sword to someone else was entirely out of the question.
“…Then why do you forge them?”
“Because I love magic swords.”
I no longer remembered exactly how it began.
But that alone was why I forged them.
“…In other words, your magic swords are ornaments made without the resolve to bear another person’s life.
“I wondered what the great hero’s grandson would be like.
“I see. Yes, I understand.”
Mercedes’s eyes weren’t expressionless, but simply cold.
She no longer even tried to meet my gaze.
“…Are we finished?”
“No. There were many other matters I wished to discuss.
“But if you’re so busy, Mr. Walker, it cannot be helped.”
With those hollow words, Mercedes calmly rose and indicated the exit with her palm.
“Thank you for visiting today. Please take care on your journey home.”
◇
When I returned, Aunt Coffey was unusually lounging on the living-room sofa.
“Welcome home, Bren. How was your date?”
“It wasn’t a date.”
“It wasn’t a date!?”
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