"Aaaaaah!"
Camus hurled fire and ice, lightning and rocks, and began pounding the ground.
Vikir barely avoided all of them, steadily moving closer to the boundary with the opposite side of the exhibition hall.
"You trickster, don't run away, stick with me!"
Camus yelled, shaking. It seemed to regain some of the confidence it had lost when closing the distance was forced.
However, the three bumps on his forehead made her look anything but adorable to others.
Vikir raised his palm and tapped his forehead three times as he moved to avoid the magic.
The grin on his face was enough to make Camus lose her temper.
"I won't let you off easy, you rascal, not even if you beg!"
As Camus took his final leap, Vikir stopped running.
And that's when Vikir's cunning calculations paid off.
…Boom!
The 15-year-old Baskerville and Morg, who had been fighting in the next room, clashed fiercely.
Swords shattered and magic burst, sending shards flying in all directions.
The 15-year-old Morg used a massive fire spell that consumed and dispersed flames in every direction.
Even Vikir and Camus were caught in its path.
…Boom!
An explosion. And cries of horror.
"Ouch! It's Camus!"
"Wow, Camus!"
"No! It's ...!"
The mages watching the competition from the sidelines were stunned.
But even if it was an accident, it was a relatively minor one.
The flames from the nearby training grounds didn't pose much of a threat.
However.
"Gah!"
Camus screamed as she looked down to see that most of the hem of her clothes had been burnt off.
As she quickly peeled off her still-sizzling clothes, she became a spectacle in the training grounds.
Fortunately, the flames, smoke, and dust around her hadn't yet exposed her nudity to others, but… she was sure a gust of wind would do it soon.
Thinking the damage was minor, the guards outside didn't burst in.
A few worried voices could be heard.
"Oh no, not again…!"
"The teary, sulky face isn't enough, now the near-naked body is exposed to everyone. What a disgrace!
'What else can be done, what other options are there, what else can be done…?'
If I show this kind of behavior, I'll lose my dignity in the family.
I had once been kicked out of the house, naked, for disrespecting my mother, so the trauma was even more severe.
"Nu, can someone… someone come!"
Camus squatted down, covering her bare skin with her hands as best as she could.
Worried about the shameful humiliation that would soon follow.
But then… suddenly.
Flutter!
Camus felt fabric enveloping her entire body.
It was heavy, but soft fabric.
Raising her head, she saw a dark crimson robe covering her entire body.
"Wear that."
Vikir said. He stood suddenly in front of Camus, holding a robe.
Camus hesitated.
"… You, huh?"
At that, Vikir shrugged.
"It's normal for children to run around naked and not have their honor tarnished."
The idea that it's shameful to show what's under the clothes is prevalent among both genders, but... those are the stories of adults.
Kids running around naked is neither a big deal nor a serious matter nor a flaw. Kids will be kids.
… Of course, the child might have a different opinion, but essentially Vikir thought so.
After helping Camus, Vikir got up from his spot.
Then.
Camus pointed at Vikir's face and stammered.
"Yaah… you, you are bleeding, you are bleeding!"
Vikir lifted his hand and wiped the blood off his forehead.
Apparently, when the magic had been scattered, the shards of the blade had been scattered too.
It wasn't a fatal injury, but it was blood nonetheless, and in a fight between eight-year-olds, blood is the difference between victory and defeat.
And now.
Whirring-!
A whirlwind blows in, clearing away the dust and smoke from the stage.
It reveals a stunned Camus, covered in Baskerville's training clothes, and a bleeding, naked Vikir.
It was chaotic scenes in the dirt, but everyone could see that the mood between them was no longer one for fighting.
"...."
The look in Camus' eyes, in particular, lets everyone know that the battle is completely over.
That stunned look was like a blank canvas… .
Meanwhile.
The other Baskervilles looked at the naked youth, who stood tall and proud.
"Ho, did you lose to the Morg girl, or did you win, I can't tell."
"By the way, the young one is impressive. He must have been favored by the River Styx."
"Of course, all those lean muscles all over his body. You must keep up with your training regimen."
The battle between the eight-year-olds, which had been impressive in many ways, ended somewhat sourly with the loss of Camus.
* * *
After the friendly competition was over.
Hugo pulled Vikir to the side at the edge of the field.
As they walked to the chamber, Hugo turned to Vikir and asked.
"How was the battle with the young lady from Morg?"
"It was interesting. It reminded me of the purpose of the event."
"A battle with a wizard is quite different from a battle between warriors."
"I'll keep learning."
Hugo and Vikir chatted away.
If anyone else in the family had seen this, they would have been quite surprised.
Hugo wasn't the type to talk to his children like this.
And Vikir was also feeling quite uncomfortable right now.
'Is this how it always was?'
I don't really remember much of Hugo as a child.
He was mostly cold, stern, and terrible.
Rumors from afar suggest that he became so messed up because of the tragic loss of his most beloved wife and eldest daughter.
'… Well, that's not my concern right now.'
While Vikir pondered this over in his mind, Hugo asked his next question in a serious tone.
"What is your take on the ruby mine?"
Hugo's main question, a continuation of the argument from before the friendly competition.
At that time, Camus' logic had been, "We can't mine the rubies in Baskerville anyway, so we'll take the mining rights for pennies on the dollar," which was also Morg's interest.
Baskerville, in turn, had no choice but to give a reasonable answer.
Turning to Hugo, who was looking at him with some expectation, Vikir replied.
"I think it's better to give it away."
Hugo's eyes widened slightly at that.
"You're giving away the mining rights to the ruby mine?"
"Yes."
"On what basis?"
Again, Hugo asked, and Vikir answered without hesitation.
"The Red And Dark Mountains, where the ruby mines flow, are downstream of the Red And Dark Mountains. A little further up, strong demons and monsters flourish, and I know this because I recently crossed the border into the Prohibited Zone on a practical assessment."
Vikir said, recalling the arrow marks in Cerberus' side.
Meanwhile, Hugo's expression was brightening, albeit subtly.
"Hmm. So?"
"What's more, the B
askervilles have made it a point to expand their borders by opening up those frontiers. If we can use the Morg to our advantage, we can minimize the damage to the Baskervilles' borders."
Hugo's eyes gleamed at that.
"Hoo-hoo, that's the answer."
He grasped Vikir's point.
If the ruby mining rights were given away, the Morg would put a large number of men downstream in the Red and Dark Mountains.
Baskerville would then be able to open up the wilderness near them and drive any demons or monsters that lived there back to Morg.
When you take territory from demons or monsters, you must eradicate their seeds so the natives will never seek revenge.
Cutting Root.
I must exterminate all the demons and monsters in the land, as well as hunt down and kill all those who flee, and then I can take full possession of the land.
Return to the land.
This is because it prevents the left from gaining strength and returning to seek revenge.
But, it's a long and painful process to completely eliminate fleeing prey.
So Hugo decided to clear the land and drive all the fleeing demons and monsters to Morg's ruby mines.
"Hahaha, the rubies will be even redder with Morg's blood. You will regret entering our territory, offspring of Respane."
Hugo was pleased with Vikir's answer.
The Morg had gained the rubies, Baskerville had gained the land, and the deal had ended happily.
"Done. A ploy that fits my plan perfectly."
Hugo said, stroking Vikir's head.
Vikir thought.
'Of course it was. The plan came from your head anyway.'
Vikir knew this well, for before the regression, he had served as a dog to drive demons and monsters toward the Morg.
For now, however, he must only lower his eyes and answer politely.
"Well, I think we should carefully monitor the movements of any Morg who have entered our territory, for good measure."
"There is no need to worry about that. I have been gradually increasing the number of dogs I have sent there for some time."
Hugo's response came as a surprise. Not that the plan was surprising, but that he had bothered to inform Vikir.
Vikir was stunned to realize that Hugo's gaze had softened to the color of tanned leather.
Just as they were about to enter the chamber.
"My Lord."
A voice called out to Hugo from behind.
Turning where he stood, Morg Adolf stood.
And next to him, he saw Camus, whose eyes were still red.
The way she was clutching at the hem of his uncle's robe, looking up at him, seemed oddly familiar.
Hugo narrowed his eyes.
"Acting Master Morg, what is it, and do you still have business?"
"I have one important matter to discuss."
"Well, let's go inside and discuss it."
Hugo opened the door and stepped into the chamber.
Adolf followed him in and sat down on the couch.
"...."
Camus still said nothing.
She just looked at Vikir before entering, then dropped her gaze to the floor and left.
She still wore the blood-stained robe Vikir had given her after the duel, wrapped tightly around her body.
Adolf shared with Hugo.
"Indeed, Morg has been putting a lot of thought into resolving the ruby mine issue amicably, and the lease for the estate is just one of many matters."
"So what about the price of me opening up the lands."
"And the marriage settlement?"
Hugo's brow furrowed slightly at Adolf's casual mention.
But it wasn't a scowl.
Hugo leaned forward and asked.
"Marriage settlement?"
"Yes. A marriage between a man and a woman from Morg and Baskerville."
Opening up the lands to another family for money might not look good, so we must present a good image by arranging a marriage.
But, a marriage between Morg and Baskerville, known for their long-standing rivalry, is an awkward and unlikely proposition.
Hugo laughed at the idea, which he hadn't even considered.
"I see. And who does it connect to whom?"
"What about this one's eldest daughter and that one's eldest son?"
Adolf turned his head to check Camus out.
Suddenly, Camus' head snapped up in surprise.
It's a common problem.
"He's my nephew," she said, "but he's an exceptional child. Beauty for beauty, intelligence for intelligence, strength for strength, nothing is lacking, and I think she would make a good companion for the little sunshine of Baskerville."
But Hugo didn't care about any of that.
"Hmph. My firstborn is twenty this year. I thought there was quite a difference in age?"
"Eight and twenty. It's only a seventeen-year difference, right? That's easily overcome."
"Adolf was forty years old this year, right? How about he meet a seventeen-year-old?"
"...."
Adolf suddenly became very quiet.
Hugo gave up.
"And, my eldest son is already engaged to be married."
"Is that so, and when…?"
"It's a pre-arranged marriage. You don't know."
Hugo's response elicited a pained look from Adolf.
Suddenly.
Suddenly, Camus raised her head and exclaimed.
"I won't marry anyone weaker than my mother!"
Her tone was very firm.
Adolf and Hugo's gazes turned to her.
They hadn't even asked the child's wishes.
Adolf smiled gently and stroked Camus' head.
"My dear, if you won't marry someone weaker than your mother, you will be a virgin for most of your life. Or you'll have to find a man with a huge age gap."
"I'm considering options, and I don't want a large age gap. I prefer people my own age or younger, and there were plenty of people my age in the audience earlier!"
Adolf shrugged at Camus' remark, as if he had nothing to say.
Then Hugo glanced at Camus with a hint of annoyance.
"Kid, this isn't a buffet."
"I know, and I'm not interested in picking and choosing."
With that, Camus looked up and gazed ahead into the distance.
There, standing in the distance, was Vikir.
Hugo was stroking his chin with his hand when he realized where Camus' gaze was going.
"No! You!"
Adolf jumped up and covered Camus' eyes.
"He has the last name of Van, not Les, and you're a dragon from the river, after all!"
Adolf whispered in Camus' ear, but Hugo, who was now a deity, couldn't help but hear the whispers.
"Hmm. That's true, but it's kind of bothering me."
Hugo muttered to himself a little.
Then he turned to Vikir, who was standing next to him.
"Well, when it comes to marriage, it's what you think that matters. And you, my son?"
Without hesitation, Vikir replied.
"If you say so, I will agree."
It was a faithful response.
Hugo chuckled heartily at that, and Adolf's face twisted in bewilderment.
If you were to ask me to make it happen, marriage is certainly not a timely process.
What a rude way to treat Morg's only child!
Hugo was even openly scratching Adolf's insides.
"In Baskerville, direct descent can't really exist. Mediocre things come
from the family name of Les, and superior things come from the family name of Van."
" … Is that what the Master would agree, my friend?"
Adolf looked down at Vikir with a smile.
But the smile was cold and hard.
"I didn't get a good look at you in the training grounds earlier, would you mind if I take a closer look at you?"
Vikir finally managed to look up at Adolf, who stood in front of him.
Sixth Circle Expert. A powerhouse at the very top of the Mage House Morg.
A representative to the Great House and a master of a often the go-to person for strategic and political matters.
"And known as an unpleasant nephew fool."
Vikir is alone, recalling the pre-regression character data.
Adolf leaned closer and whispered in Vikir's ear.
"Kid, I don't mean for you to hear this, but… . To be the husband of our Camus, you need to be of a certain age. It's just a matter of opinion within the family, and personally, I don't think you're anywhere near being the ideal candidate for Baskerville."
The words were spoken with a touch of arrogance.
As is usual for politicians, Hugo's attitude is quite high for a fair taken a man poke at Camus.
But.
"...."
Under Adolf's pressure, Vikir doesn't move an inch, simply stands there with a blank face.
Adolf's brow furrows, indeed.
"Why don't you respond to me? Is it true or not that you are paying attention to me?"
Finally, Vikir's mouth opened.
"You said it wasn't for me to hear, so I didn't listen."