[16] Alpheas School of Magic (2)
"Pleased to meet you. I am House Head Bishopf."
House head Bishopf greeted them on behalf of everyone. Klump and Rian were absent, but Rian's sister Reina had come in their stead.
Rian, overflowing with delight, bowed deeply to Vincent.
"Good day, sir! I am Rian, Shirone's sword. I will one day be the world's greatest swordsman. Hahahaha!"
"I'm Reina, Rian's older sister. I've heard much about you."
Vincent and Olina blinked in stunned silence. Then, as their brains finally caught up, they understood and bowed.
"Ah—good day! I'm Shirone's father. I never expected such distinguished people to come to our home…."
"Oh my, didn't Shirone tell you?"
"Eh? Tell us about what?"
Vincent racked his brain for anything he might have heard. All that came to mind had been his son's absurd boasting.
"So that's true, then?"
"Ah, it might be. We should have arrived sooner. In any case, it's as Shirone said. My younger brother Rian and Shirone entered into a knightly oath. That's why we've brought him here."
When Vincent finally grasped the whole thing, his heart pounded. Joy lasted only a moment before fear set in. What on earth had his innocent son done to cause such a commotion?
"Let us eat first. It would be best to discuss the details afterward."
Bishopf ended the formalities in his usual curt fashion and turned away.
The house head's manner wasn't exactly hostile. Still, that a noble of the second rank used respectful language toward a commoner revealed how the parents felt about their youngest being used as collateral.
Even after the visitors left the room, Vincent remained for a while. Only when Shirone smiled and tugged his sleeve did he collect himself and move into the parlor.
'Is this really true? Our Shirone—part of the Ozent family?'
Everything felt like a question mark. Every detail astonished him. Olina clutched her husband's arm like a frightened girl. Even Vincent's legs were shaking.
He forced himself to calm down. If Shirone's words were true, he could no longer afford to show weakness. He had to hold this position for his son's sake.
What should have been a simple dinner felt like a battlefield to Vincent.
A long table was laden with every delicacy imaginable. Even Vincent, a hunter, saw dishes he'd never encountered. Reina had procured the ingredients from the royal kitchens.
Seating followed the rules of rank. Bishopf took the head seat, Klump sat to his left, and Reina to his right.
Only when he saw the spread did Vincent, seated at the low end of the table, begin to understand. When steward Louis and deputy steward Temuran observed proper etiquette, Vincent couldn't help but puff out his chest a little.
But he couldn't simply be pleased. For his son's sake they needed to eat quietly, yet the number of utensils—more than seven—made his head swim.
Commoners could gut a wild boar with a single fork without trouble. The utensils before him varied in size and shape and included tools he'd never seen.
The meal began, but Vincent's family still couldn't take their first bites. The main problem was that the maidservants merely stood by and didn't offer to help.
There was no need to act rashly in this delicate psychological dance between nobility and commoners. On top of that, their sudden rise in station as commoners invited snide remarks and mockery.
Bishopf set down his utensils and spoke.
"Please, eat. You needn't follow noble etiquette to the letter."
"B-but still…"
"Manners are not the action itself but the desire to show it. Your discomfort alone conveys enough courtesy to my family, so please, enjoy your meal."
Vincent was moved by the house head's words. Whether born of consideration or noble pride, such attentiveness was a great kindness.
The maidservants' faces drained. The Ozent family's attitude was sincere. They truly intended to accept Shirone.
The flustered maidservants hurriedly explained how to use the utensils. It was ignorance that had been the obstacle; once they knew, eating was hardly difficult. With some intuition, Vincent's family relaxed and finally ate in peace.
Once he'd regained composure, Vincent's worry returned—what on earth did this family intend for Shirone?
He'd heard what a knightly oath meant, but that didn't alter the facts. Shirone was still a hunter's son; except for his extraordinary cleverness, no future was guaranteed.
Might there be some ulterior motive? Vincent hated doubting those who offered kindness, but when it came to his child he'd stop at nothing.
"I appreciate your good opinion of my son, but I'm worried. The Ozent family is, as I understand, among the finest houses in Creas. It's hard to believe a young gentleman of such a family would take a knightly oath to Shirone."
"Haha! You needn't worry about that. Shirone and I—"
Bishopf cut Rian off.
"To be honest, I was a bit displeased at first."
Utensils paused mid-air around the table. Yet Bishopf kept cutting his food as he continued.
"Still, a knightly oath is a warrior's proudest, most binding pledge. If one takes offense merely because of a difference in status, that would only soil Rian's pride. Therefore we will maintain honorifics—do not trouble yourselves."
Bishopf's words struck Shirone. Most nobles were arrogant and self-absorbed, but precisely because of that the value they placed on their code of pride was immense.
Nobles had long been seen only as oppressors, but observing their daily life and talking with them revealed that they, too, lived by their own rules.
"Hahaha—our house head is saying something sensible for once. You must be lonely sending off your last son, eh? Why not wait and send him next year?"
Bishopf didn't take the bait from his father.
"Rian has mastered the Skima and added the Ozent sword style, so he's likely to be certified. Conversely, Rian hasn't even awakened a Skima yet. We can only pin our hopes on this swordsmanship school."
"I hear you're subtly favoring the black-haired one. Black hair of cold reason, yes. But blue blood carries an unfading youth. If you belittle blue-haired passion, you may be ashamed later."
Rian chewed his mutton and gave his grandfather a thumbs-up. Bishopf snorted. He was well used to his father's teasing.
"Black hair, blue hair—whichever succeeds is still my child. And that is precisely—"
The direct family set down their utensils and spoke in unison.
"Ozent."
* * *
After dinner, Klump called the household into the parlor to discuss Shirone's future.
Reina reported at the family meeting that Shirone was interested in magic, and everyone agreed. Given his build and temperament, swordsmanship had its limits.
In hindsight, calling Vincent had been the right move. Contrary to the convivial dinner, Klump wore a solemn expression as he made his announcement.
"As you know, our house intends to support Shirone. I hear he wants to become a mage. In that case, why not send him to the Alpheas School of Magic here in Creas? Headmaster Alpheas and I have a long friendship, and the school is one of the top five institutions in the Kingdom of Tormia. It's a kingdom-designated institution, so graduates receive official certification. In short, he could become a mage."
"Ma—a mage…."
Vincent swallowed hard. A mage was the crystallization of intellect, master of phenomena. It was a profession that transcended social status; with certification, one could be valuable anywhere.
There were those who discovered magic on their own, and commoners who became apprentices to mages and eventually earned certification. They might become mercenaries or join associations to gain official recognition.
But such cases were rare. For most commoners, becoming a mage was a distant dream that never appeared in real life.
And yet Shirone could become a mage. They offered to enroll him in a prestigious school that conferred certification upon graduation. As a father, Vincent could not refuse.
Olina burst into grateful tears. Shirone hugged his mother. It was a heartwarming sight, but Klump's expression remained unexpectedly dark.
Entering the school was undoubtedly the fastest path to becoming a mage.
But the problem was Shirone's status. The Alpheas School of Magic admitted primarily from the nobility, and special admissions were nearly impossible.
Even the influence of a second-rank house like the Ozent might not be enough. The school was filled with scions from both second and first-rank families.
"As you may know, Shirone's current status does not meet the admission requirements. Even if the house covers tuition and textbooks, the method of entrance will inevitably be an issue."
Vincent came back down from his daydream. The fantasy had been so sweet he'd briefly lost touch with reality.
"Ah, of course. I know. Yes… I see."
Disappointment seeped through Vincent's voice. Self-reproach, too. His son, acknowledged by a noble family, could not enter the school because of the lowly status given him by an unworthy father.
"There is one way. Or rather, the only way."
At Klump's words, Vincent's head shot up. Shirone, who'd never heard this before, immediately leaned in.
"We would like to adopt Shirone into the Ozent family as a legal heir."
Silence filled the parlor.
Klump's proposal was, in effect, asking them to give up their child. It wasn't a malicious offer—the hunter's son would instantly become an Ozent, an extraordinary favor.
For most families such an offer would be unthinkable. What held Vincent back was blood.
Shirone could become a noble. But the moment he did, he would no longer be Vincent's son in the legal sense. His child would become someone else's.
Vincent looked at Shirone. Slightly annoyingly, his son's expression remained calm. Vincent couldn't tell if Shirone assumed he would accept or thought the whole idea absurd.
"We discussed it among the family and concluded this is the best method. There's a cousin who has no children yet—a foolish lad. If we register Shirone under that cousin's household, he will become a noble and be eligible for the school. We have no desire to take your son from you. It's purely a paperwork matter; the family relationship will not change."
"Just paperwork." Could anyone say that so easily? In the end, everything in this world turned on documents.
Honestly, Vincent had no confidence. He doubted he'd manage not to feel wounded watching Shirone officially listed as another man's son.
'Shirone, say something. What should I decide, father? What do you truly want?'
Vincent looked at his son in miserable silence.
Shirone furrowed his brow. Vincent realized it was because he was frustrated at his father's inability to give an answer.
Because the issue was sensitive, everyone hesitated to speak, and Reina stepped forward.
"Shirone, what do you think? It's only a registration. You'd become a noble and could realize your dream. Of course, we will always consider your parents to be your parents. Nothing would change."
Shirone's frown deepened and his eyes narrowed. Then, as if he simply couldn't understand at all, he spoke.