Part 20: Recruiting (2)

Quinier. Not bad.

No, one of the best possibilities.

Of course, I had considered recruiting Quinier, but I had thought my chances of success were extremely low. She was bound to be incredibly popular, too.

But if she was offering first, I had no reason to refuse.

“Then I’ll be going. I need to have a talk with your father. Go see Quinier.”

“Okay. I hope it goes well.”

I wished Malia luck. But nothing would change.

Ampere rarely gave way once he had made up his mind. Malia was the same, which meant they would never see eye to eye.

Finals would be over before she managed to change his mind.

After Malia left, I glanced around.

This was the infirmary, so I had no real reason to stay. Just as I was thinking of getting up myself, a voice spoke.

“It has been some time, young heir of the Roach family.”

The voice came from behind me, and I turned.

A man inclined his head in a courteous bow. There was a window behind him. Had he come in through there?

... I knew who this man was.

Though I had never seen him before and had no proof, my instincts sounded an unmistakable warning.

The man who had whispered to Frondier about the ancient language.

The man who had tried to make him strip Elodie of her Divine Power.

He wore a long robe that concealed his entire body, his face hidden in shadow like some reclusive mage. His voice and build clearly marked him as a man, but perhaps even those had been altered by magic.

“You seem surprised to see me after so long. My apologies. I am not in a position to let anyone see me.”

When I gave no answer, he bowed his head a little lower.

... This courteous treatment was not what I had imagined.

The incident at the cabin, and the memories of Frondier I had seen then.

They had given me the impression that this man was controlling Frondier like a puppet.

Reality probably wasn’t much different, but had Frondier held the upper hand on the surface? No, had this man made Frondier think he held the upper hand so he would do exactly what he wanted?

I opened my mouth. The silence had gone on a little too long.

Before he could grow suspicious, I said what needed to be said.

“Who are you calling the heir?”

I spoke with a show of arrogance and pride.

The position of heir to the Roach family belonged to Atzier, of course.

Whether or not Frondier liked being called the heir, he would surely have issued a warning like this.

As expected, the man nodded as though this was only natural.

“My apologies. That is the future I have seen, you understand. I keep making the same mistake. I was too hasty.”

... Keep making the same mistake, did he?

Apparently, this was far from the first time he had called Frondier the heir.

And since nothing had come of it so far, Frondier must have secretly enjoyed hearing it.

“However, Lord Frondier, you seem to be making little progress deciphering the ancient language.”

He still didn’t know that I had finished deciphering it.

“Must you not bring down the daughter of the Richae family?”

... He meant Elodie.

“I changed my mind. That is all.”

As I spoke, I searched for clues to his identity.

If we could have a conversation like this, then however stupid Frondier had been, he must have known who he was dealing with. Yet there was nothing about him in my memories. It was maddening.

“Oh? How strange.”

An insinuating voice drifted from his shadowed face.

“You were the one who asked me, were you not, Lord Frondier?”

... What?

Frondier had asked him? This bastard hadn’t suggested it first?

“You hated that woman, did you not?”

His words coiled around me like a snake.

This sensation, the sweet fragrance drifting from somewhere. He had probably infused his words with magic.

But perhaps because it was aimed at the original Frondier, it didn’t seem to work on me now.

... A small opportunity. I listened, pretending to be suitably entranced.

“Did it not disgust you to see her giggling in front of you, blessed with every talent?”

His disparagement of Elodie did nothing but offend me now.

“Could you not bear the way she flaunted herself before you?”

Perhaps trusting in his magic, the man gradually sharpened his words to provoke Frondier’s jealousy and inferiority.

All right. Time to test him.

“... You.”

I began slowly.

“Watch your tongue.”

“...!”

The instant he heard me, he hastily bowed his head again.

“M-my apologies. I found that woman’s behavior so offensive that I...”

“Do not overstep. Have you forgotten who you are?”

“I have not.”

“Who are you? Why are you at my side?”

“I am Hagley of the Ten Thousand Capes. I remain at your side to eliminate your potential enemies, Lord Frondier.”

“Do not forget it.”

Even as I spoke, I felt a stifling weight filling my body.

... The Ten Thousand Capes.

The continent’s exiles. And the group closer to the Outside than any other humans.

That idiot Frondier had gotten involved with the Ten Thousand Capes.

Though I was that idiot now.

Ampere was the only reason Hagley was bowing and scraping before me like this.

Ordinarily, he was someone the original Frondier would hardly have dared to address.

“In that case, as for that woman...?”

“Elodie is not my enemy.”

I couldn’t see Hagley’s face, but his failure to answer suggested that he didn’t like what I had said.

It didn’t matter. This had to be said. Who knew what else he might do?

“Just as I eliminate my own potential enemies, I will eliminate Elodie’s enemies as well.”

* * *

Around the same time, just as Frondier had expected, recruiting was in full swing across campus.

The skilled and famous second- and third-years in particular made for quite a sight, surrounded by first-years. The third-years, with their greater experience and honed abilities, had it far worse than the second-years.

The prime example was Quinier de Biet.

“Quinier! Please join our team...!”

“No, join ours!”

Naturally enough, Quinier was receiving impassioned offers from first-years while sitting at her desk. They did more than surround her; a long line stretched outside the classroom.

Her spirits were positively soaring. Even now, she was hiding her smug smile behind her fan.

Beside her, Anne watched with an unimpressed gaze, but kept her mouth shut.

Sure, her friend was enjoying a little popularity for a change. What did it matter? It wouldn’t last long anyway.

But Quinier gave every student who tried to recruit her the same answer.

“I’m sorry. I’ve already made a commitment.”

At that, the first-years left, their disappointment plain to see.

Hmph. Quinier grew so puffed up with pride that her nose practically pointed at the sky.

Yes, this was how things should be.

Quinier de Biet, the merchant who had single-handedly restored her family’s fortunes.

Insight to rival Foresight, and powers of calculation to match. Excellent personal combat ability, and connections to boot!

This was precisely how “Quinier the Little Devil” deserved to be treated.

“... So?”

Once Quinier’s repeated refusals had sent the first-years away and things had quieted down, Anne spoke.

“Hm?”

“You’re not going to be a ‘support unit’?”

When an upperclassman accepted a first-year’s recruitment offer and participated in finals, they were called a support unit. It wasn’t an official term; it had simply caught on among the students.

“Weren’t you listening? I said I already made a commitment.”

“... No, you haven’t.”

“W-what would you know?”

Quinier hid half her face behind her fan as she retorted to Anne, whose lips were pursed.

Anne answered as though it were obvious.

“Of course I know. I’m with you every day. Even if someone approached you early, would you really accept right away? Not with your personality. You’d weigh all your options before picking one you liked. You haven’t shown any sign of that, so it’s strange for you to suddenly claim you already made a commitment.”

Why was she suddenly so clever? Quinier narrowed the eyes peeking over her fan.

Anne studied her quietly for a moment, then spoke.

“Frondier?”

“Why are you suddenly bringing him up?”

Anne was not only clever, but perceptive too.

“Well, even you wouldn’t team up with Frondier. Who would do something that crazy?”

But then she shrugged and settled on her own conclusion.

‘Hey, that’s a little insulting. Why would that be crazy?’

Quinier couldn’t bring herself to say it aloud and merely shifted her eyes.

... In truth, she had made no prior commitment. Instead, she had dropped a hint on her own initiative—to Malia, Frondier’s mother.

Frondier would probably have trouble recruiting anyone. His notoriety was one thing, but he also seemed likely to team up with Aten, and few had the nerve to shoulder the burden of carrying out a mission alongside an imperial princess.

Elin was a strong candidate, but her internship would prevent her from participating in finals. A good merchant never overlooked even little details like that.

She had heard the announcement calling Frondier to the infirmary earlier.

Now Malia would pass her hint on to him, and he would come to this classroom to recruit her. All she had to do was accept as though she had no choice. Perfect.

...

...

... But why wasn’t he coming?

It felt like quite some time had passed since the announcement calling him to the infirmary, yet there was no sign of him.

“Uh, ahem. Well. I’m off to the bathroom.”

“Huh? I’ll come with you.”

“N-no need. I think I’ll be a while.”

“Oh... Ahaha. Sorry.”

Anne laughed awkwardly.

Quinier had a fairly good idea what she was imagining, which was irritating, but she couldn’t really explain herself. She simply left.

Her destination was, of course, the infirmary.

By coincidence—pure coincidence—her stomach happened to hurt. She felt bloated. There was a strange prickling deep in her side, and breathing felt uncomfortable.

Really, being in this sort of condition before finals was very bad. Dangerous, even.

So going to the infirmary was an unavoidable choice dictated by fate, wasn’t it?

As she walked, Quinier stopped abruptly. She halted her own momentum with a suddenness that surprised even her.

“No, come to think of it, why bother? I can just wait in the classroom.”

Going to see Frondier now seemed a little hasty.

He was probably still in the infirmary.

She turned and retraced her steps.

She might as well go to the bathroom, just as she had told Anne. The thought suddenly occurred to her.

... Quinier stopped again.

‘... What is this?’

She narrowed one eye.

Since becoming head of the Biet family, she had almost never reversed a decision.

And never once had she been indecisive for such a trivial reason.

Going to the infirmary had clearly been her own decision, made for a reason and without hesitation.

Yet she had turned back simply because...

The thought had “suddenly” occurred to her.

... Quinier. Get a grip.

Something was wrong here.

Quinier’s eye for people could truly rival a set of scales.

But her eye for objects had yet to reach that level.

Even her ability to distinguish genuine articles from fakes had shortcomings, which was why she had lost her bet with Frondier.

After seeing Frondier in action, Quinier had continued studying traps and barriers.

She had never neglected those studies to begin with, but she couldn’t stand falling behind someone she had intended to teach.

And that was why...

She recognized it.

‘An approach-deterrent barrier.’

The instant she identified it, the scent of Mana assailed her nose.

An approach-deterrent barrier, like the one Renzo had used when trying to kidnap Aten.

It had been exposed because this wasn’t a wide-open space like the field—and because it had happened to encounter Quinier.

An approach-deterrent barrier surrounded the infirmary. Someone was keeping people from approaching it.

Why?

‘... Frondier is in danger.’

Quinier quickened her pace. Even knowing what the barrier was didn’t stop its effects.

It was a thoroughly nasty feeling, like having to constantly defy her own will as she walked.

But trying to break it by force would alert its creator. Fortunately, knowing it was a barrier had halved its effect.

And when she reached the infirmary, Quinier found someone she had never expected.

Someone had arrived before her.

That person stood before the infirmary door, staring at it without end.

As if simply doing so let her see through to the other side.

No, that wasn’t it. She was listening to the conversation inside.

“... Elodie?”

At Quinier’s barely audible murmur, Elodie slowly turned her head.

As her gaze found Quinier, it wavered, as though she had heard something she should never have heard.