Chapter 95

Acting Like a Scoundrel (2)

“How do you know that?”
“Does that mean you’re willing to talk with me now?”
“Hmph.”

Reich frowned deeply and sat back down.

“Was this Helmut’s doing?”
“Do you think so?”
“No. That’s not in Helmut’s nature. Then who’s behind you?”
“Please listen to what I have to say first, and then ask your questions.”
“No—start by telling me how you found out.”

A long-distance communication device referred to a magical tool that used mana for transmission.
It was currently being researched in collaboration between the academy’s scholars and the Blue Magic Tower.

If successful, it would allow rapid communication across the continent.
Beyond mere convenience, it would offer enormous military advantages if utilized that way.

This was information that must never be revealed to either the Empire or the Republic.
So how could Isaac possibly know about it?

‘If necessary…’

The old headmaster was already considering the possibility of eliminating this boy.
Even if it meant completely falling out with Helmut.
That was how critical this matter was to the kingdom.

“Your mana has become quite hostile.”
“Should I call this good sensitivity, boldness… or foolishness?”

Reich’s expression turned fierce.
Isaac once again felt the overwhelming pressure of immense mana.

It was the same feeling as when he had stepped in to stop the count who tried to kill the marquis.
Of course, compared to then, activating his six multi-circulation circuits made it somewhat bearable.
Back then, when the count had been enraged, even breathing had been nearly impossible.

“Don’t worry. I haven’t told anyone.”
“I asked who told you.”
“I cannot say that.”

Isaac shrugged.
Even if he said he read it in a book from the future, it would only provoke anger.

“What exactly are you trying to do!?”

Reich’s mana surged even more violently.
Isaac’s belief that he could endure it turned out to be a miscalculation.

Giiiiing—

The multi-circulation circuits spun violently, as if his soul were being chewed apart.

“You’re holding on quite well. Let’s see how long that lasts.”

Veins bulged on Reich’s forehead.
The mana he emitted slowly tightened around Isaac’s throat.
It felt as if his skin were being sliced by sharp blades.

“Waaaah!”

Suddenly, cheers erupted from the Great Hall.
Although the official tournament had ended, the ceremonial tournament was still underway—
a magic duel designed to showcase more dazzling, coordinated performances.

“It wouldn’t be good for you if you drew too much attention, Headmaster.”

Isaac wiped cold sweat from his brow as he spoke.
There was no killing intent in Reich’s mana.
That made it somewhat tolerable—but it was far from negligible.

“Is it because of a unique constitution? Or are you simply unaffected?”
“That’s not the case. My entire body feels numb.”

Even as he said that, Isaac’s expression did not change.

“…Hoo.”

Reich rubbed the back of his neck and withdrew his mana.
Even after applying that much pressure, Isaac had not budged.

The only other way to threaten him would be through direct force—
but that was far from Reich’s specialty.
He was a scholar, not a combat mage.
He despised using magic to harm others.

“I’m not fond of conversations that go in circles. If you insist on being stubborn, then say what you can say first.”

“I’ll tell you who the spy is.”

“A spy?”

Reich raised an eyebrow.

“How else do you think I learned about a top-secret research project?”
“Everyone involved in that research was personally selected. That’s impossible…”
“I have a condition.”
“A condition? You think you’re in a position to bargain? Right now, you should be begging for your life.”
“If you don’t accept, information about the research will continue to leak. Before the kingdom can properly use it, other mercenary groups, knight orders, noble families, and even other nations will exploit it.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“If necessary.”

Reich’s twisted glare met Isaac’s steady gaze.

“What proof do you have that you’re not in league with them?”
“None.”
“Are you joking?”
“However, I can promise one thing. I will only act in ways that benefit the Goethe family. On that, I’m willing to stake my life.”

Isaac’s blue eyes met Reich’s.

Though they held a deep stillness, they did not waver.

“…I’ll hear you out and decide.”
“There will be a war soon. When that happens, please ensure that the communication devices can be used.”

Isaac said calmly.

***

The closing ceremony of the competition also served as the awards ceremony.

The winner of the magic demonstration was, without question, Jonas.

“Jonas von Goethe, second son of the Goethe family. In this competition, you have achieved results worthy of your name. This award honors your effort and talent, and encourages your future path.”

Applause and cheers erupted from the Great Hall.

If there was one participant who left the deepest impression, it was undoubtedly Jonas.
Amid the roaring praise, he directed his gaze toward a single place—

Toward his older brother Isaac below the stage.
The person whose recognition he desired more than anyone.

Isaac smiled and nodded.
Jonas returned the smile.

The winner of the academic conference was Felix of the Mark family.

“Felix von Mark, eldest son of the Mark family. Your ‘Structural Reinterpretation of Fire Magic’ goes beyond theoretical hypothesis and offers a new perspective on fire magic. Your academic insight will serve as a model for many scholars to come.”

Finally, the tournament winner was Beltran of the Büchtner family.

“Beltran of the Büchtner family. In this magic chess competition, you demonstrated swift judgment and outstanding strategic insight.”

Each of the three winners received a trophy and cloak befitting their achievement.

Simply winning this irregular Goethe competition was enough to leave a strong impression on those in the magical community.
It was essentially the same as starting one’s path as a mage from a favorable position.
After all, scholars of the Royal Academy and across the continent would remember them.

After the ceremony, the count stepped down from the stage, shaking hands with the winners and offering words of encouragement.

The closing ceremony concluded with a speech by Marcel Reich.

“…The achievements shown by today’s winners are not merely personal accomplishments. They are hope and pride that illuminate the kingdom’s future. I believe everyone here will long remember the snowy scenery of the Great Hall. The passion of scholars burning bright, and the heat of duels where sparks flew—we will not forget them. It has been an honor to share all of this with you.”

Amid gentle applause, Schiller announced the final banquet.
Some attendees began moving toward the exit in preparation to leave.

“But before that, there is still one more matter to conclude.”

Schiller spoke, amplifying his voice with mana.

“Was there something else left?”

Those who had been preparing to leave halted in their tracks.

“I would like the distinguished guests gathered here to serve as witnesses.”

“Isaac von Goethe. Please step onto the stage.”

The count called out in a resonant voice imbued with mana.

The attendant Paul stepped forward and handed him a greatsword wrapped in red cloth.
The sword, with a shield emblem embossed on its pommel, was named Valerich.

Shrrrng—

The wavy blade was revealed.

As the tip touched the ground, it produced a heavy scraping sound.
The hilt rose nearly to the count’s shoulder.

“Isaac von Goethe! Isaac von Goethe, rightful heir of the Goethe family—step forward to the stage!”

The head attendant, Waller, shouted.

A brief silence followed—then murmurs spread.

They were voices of those startled at hearing Isaac’s name.
To them, Isaac was still a ticking bomb—someone who had not overcome his abnormal constitution, someone at risk of a mana explosion.
They feared being caught in it.

Some questioned whether the count was in his right mind.
Some wondered what was about to happen.
Others felt threatened and left their seats early.

But most of the crowd remained.

They were mages, after all—capable of using at least basic defensive magic against a mana explosion.
More than anything, they were curious about why the count had summoned his eldest son during the closing ceremony.

And mages were not a people who could resist curiosity.

Step… step…

Clear footsteps suddenly echoed.

The murmuring died down, and all eyes turned toward the sound.

No one recognized Isaac as Isaac.

He appeared far too mature for a twelve-year-old.
He looked closer to fifteen, and his eyes were sharp yet detached, like someone who had endured countless hardships.
There was a faint chill about him.

Ash-gray hair. Blue eyes.

People quickly looked away, assuming he couldn’t possibly be Isaac.
They thought he must simply have business near the stage.

But the boy did not stop, even after reaching the front of the crowd.
He continued forward—until he ascended the platform.

Only then did he stop, standing just one step away from the count.

Even then, people believed there had been some mistake.

“What is this? Is he standing in for the first young master?”
“That’s… the Goethe family’s eldest son?”
“I heard he was twelve…”
“He sent a proxy for the magic demonstration, and now he’s doing the same here.”

The whispers did not last long.

Because the count spoke.

“Isaac von Goethe. Kneel.”

Isaac knelt.

“The safety of the North is not achieved by one person alone. It must be protected together, and its roots must grow stronger. Yet strength is not built from one alone. A single tree may sway, but two trees endure. Today, I intend to plant a new tree in this place.”

The count’s voice spread across the hall.

“As the eldest son of Goethe, from this day forward, you shall become the independent lord of Vinfelt.”

The murmurs grew louder.

Unbothered, the count raised Valerich.

“By the authority granted to me by His Majesty, and upon the honor of the Goethe name, I appoint Isaac von Goethe as Baron of Vinfelt. You shall govern the lands of Vinfelt and take responsibility for the safety of those who live upon it. Though you were once a member of the Goethe family, you now depart from it and become the new master of that land.”

The count spoke in a low voice.

The flat of Valerich’s blade touched Isaac’s shoulders in turn.
Isaac felt its cold weight throughout his entire body.

“As lord of Vinfelt, do you swear to uphold honor, protect the land, lead it to prosperity, and serve His Majesty?”
“I swear.”

Isaac answered, meeting the count’s eyes.

“Isaac von Goethe Vinfelt. Rise now as the lord of your territory—Baron of Vinfelt.”

Isaac slowly straightened his knee and rose to his feet.

“Not even a vassal, but an independent lord of Vinfelt? That means the position of heir is gone.”
“The second son will become the successor.”

Regardless of the count’s true intentions, the message received by the crowd was simple:

The eldest son had been given a discarded land.

It was one of the harshest regions in the North—a frozen wasteland where nothing grew.
A place plagued by a Black Forest, where magical beasts such as Hell Wolves roamed.

To grant such land while naming him an independent lord was, in effect, a roundabout declaration that nothing more would be given to the eldest son.

But to Isaac and the count, it held an entirely different meaning.

That Isaac would no longer be kept as a child under protection.
That he would be treated as a full-fledged lord—expected to bear responsibility and prove his worth at every moment.

And that, as both patriarch and father, the count would respect Isaac’s will.

“…Do not die.”

The count said, placing a hand on Isaac’s shoulder.

“Do not get hurt either. That is an order from the lord you serve, Baron of Vinfelt.”
“That may be a bit difficult for now.”

The count’s command was moving, but Isaac knew he could not comply with it—at least not immediately.

‘Right on time.’

His sharp hearing picked up approaching footsteps.

“What?”

The count frowned in confusion.

Boom—

The massive oak doors were violently pushed open.

A man entered, his face flushed from the cold.
He wore a neat uniform adorned with heavy chain ornaments, and a black cloak embroidered with golden thread bearing a swan crest.

It was Gutrert, the chief attendant of Botmer.

He strode firmly toward the center.

When the guards blocked his way, he pulled out a scroll from his coat.

“I am Gutrert, envoy of the Viscount Botmer household!”

The count, who had been watching silently, gave a slight nod.
The guards stepped aside.

Gutrert advanced straight to the platform.
All eyes in the Great Hall turned toward him.

“Speak. What message does Botmer bring here?”

The count’s voice was low and heavy.
Hostility could already be sensed from Gutrert’s demeanor.

He had expected this.

That this winter would be a harsh one.

“Lord Helmut von Goethe, ruler of Goethe. My lord, Klaus Botmer, formally declares war.”

The air inside the hall froze in an instant.