[661] Recruiting Mercenaries (5)
'So this was the plan from the start.'
Having Shirone form the mercenary company while he himself joined as a member—this was another one of Lupist's schemes.
With the Association unusable right now, a small elite unit was the best choice, and in that case the strongest option was for the Association President to take the field personally.
'You said I'd be the captain, didn't you?'
He'd been blindsided, but a powerful ally was a good thing, so Shirone let it slide.
"Uh, then..."
Shirone glanced over the paperwork: name withheld, specialty listed as reconnaissance and assassination.
'Unknown identity was supposed to be disqualified, but....'
With Aria serving as document examiner, that wouldn't happen.
She'd probably been included in the plan with that exact calculation in mind.
"Let's start with a test. Since both of you are mages, shall we check your Spirit Zones?"
"I'll go first."
Number 28, a man presumed to be Lupist, stepped forward.
As Shirone swallowed at the tension of assessing the Spirit Zone of an officially certified First-Rank grand mage, a murderous intent stabbed into him through his empathic sense.
'Whoa!'
The offensive Spirit Zone hurled thorns in all directions, but every single one of them zeroed in on Shirone.
It was the kind of display that forced acceptance, and seeing such serious skill flare made him a little irritated.
'Should I flat-out fail him?'
At that moment Lupist's Spirit Zone trembled faintly and fed information into Shirone's perception.
Like reading braille with a fingertip, Shirone pieced together the stinging signals of hostility into a single sentence.
- Pass number 213 no matter what.
'I'll handle it,' Shirone grumbled inwardly, and handed the paperwork to Aria.
"Thank you. Next is number 29."
When Jane, the chief of staff, put out her Spirit Zone, a liquid, flexible empathic impression contrasted sharply with Lupist's aura.
'A mental-type mage.'
Shirone knew Arin—blessed by the gods in that school—and even compared to her the mental fluidity here was extraordinary.
'I feel like I'm submerged in the sea.'
Shirone marked number 29 as passed.
"Thank you. Accepted applicants will be announced after the first round. I hope you get good results."
"Please take care of us."
Shirone watched 28 and 29 leave the clearing and head into the building.
'Number 213, huh? Wonder what kind of person that is.'
He'd find out if he kept watching.
As they moved into the thirties, more skilled people began to appear.
By the time they reached the hundreds, over twenty had cleared the first test, and it was number 121's turn.
"Next person, please. Huh?"
Shirone looked at 121's name and tilted his head in disbelief.
"What? Why is this person here...."
He looked up slowly and found someone he knew standing before him.
"So we meet like this, Shirone."
"Teacher Romi Etella?"
The shabby cloak made her look nothing like the woman from school, but she was undeniably Romi Etella of Alpheas Magic School.
"Why are you here, teacher?"
"I heard on the way that you're organizing a mercenary company. Please give me a favorable evaluation."
Etella bowed politely in the manner of an applicant.
'She must have her reasons.'
Having graduated from the school, she'd be expected to follow society's rules, but meeting a former teacher like this felt oddly strange.
Shirone didn't want to judge a schoolteacher, so he kept his concern to himself as she took a martial-arts stance.
'Phew, looks like she'll be judged on technique. At least that's a relief.'
Rian's eyes sharpened.
'So this is Etella.'
She was the person Shirone had praised endlessly when recounting tales from Heaven; her presence was certainly not ordinary.
Etella slowly swung her arms and unleashed a palm strike—the basic move of the Yin-Yang Wave Fist.
"Taha!"
That was the entire demonstration, and Shirone, feeling a little anticlimactic, turned to read Rian's expression.
Rian rested his chin on his hand, unreadable.
'Is that really enough? Her skill is undeniable, but....'
To someone unfamiliar with martial arts, there wasn't much obvious difference between her strike and the others.
"Yes, thank you."
Rian's tone was formal rather than dismissive, and he marked her as passed.
"I hope to see you in the second round."
She left without another word for Shirone—proof she intended to take the mercenary unit seriously.
"Rian, was that some extraordinary technique?"
Shirone asked out of pure curiosity, and Rian, looking uncomfortable, licked his lips.
"Honestly, I don't know."
"What? You don't know?"
"I'm judging, but I don't really understand techniques or theory. My swordsmanship was honed in real fights anyway."
Rian had once been labeled talentless and even dropped out of sword school; that fact resurfaced.
"Then what's your criterion?"
"There's only one way. I imagine I'm the one being attacked. When Etella released that palm..."
Rian turned to Shirone.
"A chill ran over my whole body. I don't know why. I can't tell if there was technical superiority. I just thought, if possible, I don't want to fight her, so I decided to recruit her."
For someone like Rian, who lacked technical talent, instinct honed in combat was everything.
If his instinct warned him, Shirone had no reason to doubt it.
"Right, I understand."
With capable applicants increasing, Shirone felt the burden lift.
'With the Association President and Teacher Etella, maybe I don't have to carry everything alone.'
By dusk most applicants had finished their tests, and it was number 199—the last of the 100s.
Aria checked the file, propped her chin on her palm, and smiled.
"She's finally here—my secret weapon."
The two checked the paperwork as well, and when Rian saw the name his face hardened.
"No way..."
A step approached that sounded wrong from the first beat.
A man walking with a limp, a greatsword whose weight was concentrated at the tip strapped to his hip. The sleeve covering his right arm—gone from the shoulder—fluttered with every move.
'Parka Kuan.'
Shirone had heard the rumor that he'd cut off his own right arm, but the atmosphere around him was so different that Shirone checked his profile.
He was, without question, listed as an instructor at the Kaizen Sword School.
"Long time no see, Rian."
"Ugh!"
Rian respected him as a swordsman, but recalling the past brought no pleasant memories.
Shirone was equally stunned and looked to Aria for an explanation.
"What's going on?"
"This is Kuan, who will serve as my bodyguard. How is it? Now you can be at ease, right?"
Shirone knew Kuan's skill better than anyone.
"But how do you know Kuan, Aria?"
"What do you mean? Wouldn't I know an instructor from the Kaizen Sword School? Besides, he's currently working as a civilian investigator in the region where we'll operate. Perfect for guarding me in many ways."
'So he stayed in Radum.'
Shirone had heard, after returning from Heaven, that Kuan and Miro were carrying out some tasks.
"Then maybe Armin or Sein are—"
"No. I'm the only one in Tormia right now."
"I see."
Shirone's disappointment at not meeting Miro made Kuan frown.
"Why? Don't you trust me?"
"No! No, it's not that at all..."
Rian cut him off.
"Never mind. Let's proceed with the test. If they don't pass, we can't work together anyway."
It was a chance for revenge for the things that had happened at Kaizen Sword School.
"You may once have been an instructor, but there are no privileges. Do your best."
Kuan didn't even snort.
"You're still as stupid as ever."
Rian's eyes flashed with a strange light.
"What did you say! Have you forgotten who the examiner is? I'm not the same as before!"
'Hmm, truly....'
He was a completely different person from the Rian they'd known at sword school.
Shirone had heard of Rian's accomplishments while working with Miro and wanted to confirm his skill, but first they had to get through the public test.
"Then swing that sword."
Unlike Etella, Kuan showed no tension; Rian watched with a bored chin-resting expression.
As expected, Kuan drew his blade carelessly, changed direction with a lame step, and began cutting.
"...."
After a moment, Rian slowly removed his hand from his chin and unconsciously took a proper stance.
He watched the blade's arc through the air—the soft whisper of wind—and his face showed both wonder and sorrow.
'Beautiful.'
There was a trajectory there that Shirone had always known existed but could never clearly recall.
The arc Rian had longed for, forged by daily practice, was in that movement.
'So a genius's sword can be this beautiful.'
Rian had matured enough to analyze that level of swordwork.
After about a minute of swinging, Kuan sheathed his sword with practiced ease and grumbled.
"Done?"
"Yes, thank you for your effort."
Even if Kuan were an enemy, Shirone had to pass him.
Aria added, "We'll discuss the details after the tests."
Kuan nodded and left the evaluation area, and the 200-series applicants began to enter.
The long session had left them tired, but when number 213—Lupist's designated pass—came up, everyone straightened.
'What is this?'
She was a mid-teen girl who radiated a completely different mood from the veterans so far.
Her hair was jet-black and cut short; even a heavy coat couldn't hide her slender frame.
Shirone watched her standing with hands folded and checked her profile.
Her name was Meirei. She was a mage, born in the Kingdom of Galon, not Tormia.
Galon, bordering the Kazra Kingdom to the north, was called a holy kingdom, though neighboring nations labelled their gods malevolent.
Shirone found nothing else notable until his eyes fixed on the final special remarks.
'Nonstandard-class.'
They hadn't disclosed the nature of the ability, but there was no doubt it was a capability needed for this operation.
"Begin, please."
Meirei spread her Spirit Zone with an indifferent expression.
At fifteen, it wasn't impressive in raw strength, but the peculiar temperament of her nonstandard-class was apparent.
'So that's why Lupist told me about her.'
Even nonstandard-class people need solid fundamentals to survive in Radum, so if Lupist hadn't tipped him off, Shirone probably would have failed her.
He marked her as passed and handed the file over.
"Well done. I hope you get good results."
Meirei didn't move. She stared straight through Shirone.
"Is there something you want to say?"
"Is your brother Shirone?"
Her voice—Shirone's first time hearing it—was clear like a mountain stream and oddly addictive.
"Yes. Why?"
"He's afraid. Because you're a Siok."
Shirone frowned at the incomprehensible statement.
"Who's afraid of me?"
"Ra Enemi."
Shirone's eyes widened.
"How do you know that..."
"I can hear it."
Meirei clasped her ears and said, "I can hear Ra's voice."
Aset Meirei—the one corresponding to the Divine Hearing of the Great Purification—was a nonstandard-class who could eavesdrop on the gods' frequencies.