[662] Insufficient Five Senses (1)
After finishing their regular tour of the Märchen Kingdom, the Leaf Circus troupe's members went home for the winter. Only Shagal and Tia, who had no family, stayed behind to live with Raiden.
"Shagal, come here for a moment."
Shagal, who had been practicing circus tricks, wiped the sweat from his brow and went to Raiden.
"What is it? Do you need me to do something?"
"No. I want to teach you something."
Shagal cocked his head. "I thought I'd learned all the techniques."
Although only sixteen, Shagal boasted the greatest skill among the Leaf Circus performers.
"Starting today, you'll practice juggling."
"Ha! Captain, are you sure you're not losing your mind? You know how old I was when I first picked up clubs, right?"
"Bring them."
At Raiden's serious tone, Shagal fetched the box of clubs. Raiden took three clubs in one hand and tossed them.
Without even a preparatory stance, Shagal launched into an elaborate display, twirling three clubs with dazzling ease.
The technique was masterful; during performances he even rode a unicycle while juggling, so it came as naturally as breathing.
After catching each club in turn, Shagal grinned proudly and said, "Did you see that? The genius at work."
"You are a genius."
Shagal flushed. "Why the sudden compliment? It's just basic juggling."
Of course Raiden wasn't praising him merely for three clubs.
'He absorbs any technique by taking the shortest path to its core.'
It would be a shame to let Shagal's insight—which pierced the essence of any skill—go to waste.
"Do it again. Do it properly this time."
Sensing the change in atmosphere, Shagal straightened and tossed all ten clubs from the box into the air.
Cross-throws, spinning tosses, switching orders—Raiden watched the flashy moves and said, "Pass them."
A two-person juggling routine began. Shagal and Raiden exchanged clubs while keeping their own juggles going.
At some point Shagal realized the clubs weren't coming back. He looked at Raiden and widened his eyes.
'He's holding them in place?'
Raiden alternated his hands, catching and releasing so that the clubs hovered before him.
Two, four, six clubs were locked in midair as if nailed to nothing, and finally all ten clubs came under Raiden's control.
The air buzzed; Raiden's hands left afterimages as he moved through the gaps between the ten hovering clubs.
A low groan escaped through clenched teeth as Shagal and Tia stared, dumbfounded, at the pinnacle of juggling.
When the sudden gust stopped and Raiden's hands froze, the ten clubs clattered to the ground as if strings had been cut.
"Phew. It's tiring doing that after a long time."
"Captain, what on earth was that…?"
"Raiden of the Swift Blade. That's what I was called before I became leader of the Leaf Circus."
Raiden told them the story of the assassin who had once been famous across the world.
Although that era was already past, even Shagal was shocked to hear it.
"Captain…"
"You can say whatever you want. I've sheathed my sword and intend to devote the rest of my life here. I wouldn't mind dying and having my bones buried here. But seeing you changed my mind a bit. Your talent would be a shame to waste."
"Talent…?"
"As you just saw, even juggling can be transformed into a killing skill. How you use it is up to you, but I believe you'll choose rightly."
Shagal glanced at Tia. She already knew his heart; she wouldn't show it, but she knew they'd end up living together.
"How do I become like you, Captain?"
Raiden raised a finger as if there were only one answer.
"Schema."
* * *
"Huh?"
Shirone woke with a start when he felt someone's presence and saw Aria bowing at his bedside. He jolted upright.
"W-what are you doing?!"
He hurriedly looked for Rian, but Rian was already up—feet propped on the bed, doing push-ups.
"Heh heh, you look cute when you sleep."
When Aria leaned in, Shirone pulled the blanket over his bare chest. "Have some manners. How could you come into a man's room without permission?"
"Why? Afraid I'll eat you up or something?"
Her mischievous expression suggested Shirone might have been in real trouble if Rian hadn't been there.
"Shirone, hurry and wash up. Let's eat."
Rian pointed toward the doorway with his thumb. Aria, who had been staring at his flexed muscles, yanked the blanket off Shirone.
"Hey!"
"Ah! What are you doing?!"
Shirone made to cover himself, but it felt stranger to keep covering, so he dropped his arms.
"Wow! You're really scrawny. You should exercise."
Rian had been worried about the same thing.
"Yeah, Shirone. Train with me from now on. Even mages can't have poor physical ability."
Shirone looked at himself in the mirror.
Am I that skinny?
He'd never paid attention before, but when Rian pressed his chest muscles the contrast was obvious.
At the Magic Academy he hadn't had time to train, and among mages most were slim. If you can fly just by concentrating, why bother running?
"Men need strength. Come on, hit me, hit me."
Rian patted his chest, gesturing for Shirone to punch. Shirone stuck out his lip and glared.
The thought of firing a photon cannon crossed his mind first—his arms weren't built for muscle work.
"Fine. You'll get better while traveling. I wasn't this scrawny when I lived in the mountains."
Pouting, Rian grabbed his toiletries. Aria covered her mouth and laughed.
"Anyway, wash up and come down. Today's the second test and it'll take longer than yesterday."
Out of 273 applicants, only 54 passed the first test; today they had to pare the field down by more than half again.
After washing, they reached the hall and found the successful first-round candidates scattered around, waiting.
Where's the chairman…?
Lupist and Jane, still masked, sat facing each other at a corner table. Etella was sipping tea by the window, and Kuan was eating breakfast opposite her.
Passing the first test meant you had some level of expertise in your field. A woman sharpening arrow tips, a martial artist lifting dumbbells, people setting traps for their specialty evaluation—each was preparing for round two. One person, however, stood out.
"Good morning, Shirone."
A young man seated casually on the floor tipped his hand to Shirone from the stairs.
His number was 147.
Wieg of the Gale.
He was twenty-three, specialized in twin swords, and along with Rian—known as a Knight of Maha—was one of the promising newcomers attracting attention.
"Yes. Good morning. Are you ready?"
"Ha! I was so nervous I couldn't sleep. It's an honor to work with an Ivory Tower candidate."
He said it laughingly, but Wieg's movements betrayed no trace of tension. And although Rian was one of the judges, Wieg had singled out Shirone—there was an odd sense of rivalry.
"The Knight of Maha. Is he your sword?"
Wieg turned to Rian, who was greedily devouring meat.
"Yes. In a way. He's also my closest friend."
"Hmm. He doesn't look that strong. Do you know how many layered schemas he has?"
People often describe schema as a diagram of the human body, but it's not a blueprint you visualize in your head. More precisely, it's a felt control over the body.
If you operate three schemas, you can control three different sets of bodily changes while performing a specific action. Even an uncoordinated person can learn the motion of a somersault through training, but gymnasts can, in an instant, sense fingertip positions and muscle balance simultaneously.
Although the body is one, the internal diagrams of exceptional people are relatively numerous. By that standard, one could see how lacking Rian's bodily attunement was.
"Uh… well, you see…"
Shirone stammered until Wieg, realizing his overstep, scratched his head.
"Ah, sorry. An examinee evaluating a judge—that was presumptuous of me."
"No. It's a fair question. If Wieg passes, he'll be a reliable ally."
"Thanks for saying that. See you at the second test then."
Wieg picked up his twin swords and moved to the corner to sit again.
Shirone felt guilty for not being frank, even though he'd masked it with a flustered answer.
Why couldn't I just tell the truth?
Rian was strong enough to rival any test, and Shirone was proud of his achievements. He didn't like his friend being judged by the common standard that equates an unopened schema with no talent.
Sorry, Rian.
Rian, still chewing, caught Shirone's eye, pointed at the food, and gave a thumbs-up.
"Ha ha ha!"
Rian is the best, Shirone thought.
* * *
Shirone, Rian, and Aria took a spot in the guild square and waited for the second test.
Because the specialty demonstration could mean life or death, no one but the examinee was allowed entry.
"We'll begin. Step in."
At Aria's words the door opened and numbers 28 and 29, the first two successful candidates from round one, entered in order.
Unlike before, there was no formal greeting. Shirone narrowed his eyes and watched as the two removed their masks.
"What are you two thinking?"
Shirone snapped. Lupist smirked and walked toward the table.
"Sorry if we startled you."
"You should have told us ahead. You told me to form a mercenary group, remember?"
"Nothing changes. You're the captain. We're going to the Iron Tower, Saenghwa, ruled by the upper reaches of Radum. Ordinary force won't do the trick."
Having heard about the Iron Tower from Ami Aria, Shirone couldn't press Lupist further.
"By the way, what happened to number 213?"
The irregular candidate Aset Meirei.
There hadn't been time to ask during the first test, but she claimed she could hear the voice of Ra Enemi.
"According to intelligence, four years ago a large-scale heresy purge took place in the Garon Kingdom. It was carried out by the Terafos order under an oracle mandate. Their purpose was simple: to find and eliminate those who eavesdrop on the voice of God."
"Is that what number 213 is?"
Jane asked.
"Aset Meirei's irregularity, 'God's Frequency,' is thought to be the ability to pick up electrical signals drifting through the world. She heard Ra Enemi's voice on a particular frequency. We suspect it's related to that heresy purge."
How the evil god Terafos—said to have destroyed countless universes—was connected to Ra Enemi remained unclear.
Lupist said, "Her ability will act like a compass for removing the traces of Ra Enemi that have seeped into Radum. In any case, it's information you should know. Pass her in the second test."
Lupist turned with Jane and started toward the back door, but Shirone called after him.
"Wait. Where are you going?"
Lupist, not understanding, glanced back. Shirone pointed forward as if demanding they come back.
"You have to show your specialty before you go. This is a proper test, after all."
"I'm busy. I don't have time for jokes."
"This isn't a joke. Even if you're the chairman, no shortcuts. Come back and be evaluated."
Knowing Shirone's stubbornness from before graduation, Lupist sighed and returned to his seat.
Then—
The Silvering Guild building shook, and the candidates waiting in the hall looked around in alarm.
"What's that?"
A moment later, the masked numbers 28 and 29 opened the door with annoyed expressions and strode in toward the corner table.