Chapter 164: Pilgrimage (1)
Late at night, the Academy Residential Hall of Cia-Harphe Academy.
Ernst lay sprawled across the living room sofa of his dormitory.
It stood out all the more in the dim surroundings.
The crimson, glowing image of a whale. One of the axes of CIAR’s board of directors—the crest of the Sharma family—floated beside Ernst. Laughter tinged the voice leaking from the emblem. It belonged to none other than Christophe Jean-Jacques Saint-Sharma, the head of the Sharma family.
“Please refrain from calling young.”
Ernst raised his upper body.
Using the emblem’s glow as a lamp, he had been reading. Altria Amnesia—no, his grandmother, Brunhilde von Tresckow. It was chivalric literature she had written during her lifeti.
The Vile Adventures of Sir Abraxas. A tale in which Sir Abraxas, once a noble knight, fell into ruin as a vile lord in his later years. The public would not know that this was Altria Amnesia’s final work.
“The year will soon turn, old man. That would make of age.”
Naturally.
What a gloomy old man.
Ernst thought so, but did not show it.
He placed The Vile Adventures of Sir Abraxas on the side table. The cover was adorned with the grotesquely twisted face of Sir Abraxas.
It seed deliberately designed to make the reader uncomfortable. In the previous work, Sir Abraxas on the cover had worn a resolute expression. As if to thoroughly insult that very image, the sequel published after a long hiatus was steeped in skepticism toward knighthood. Excessively so—almost as though it were denying itself.
Suddenly, Christophe spoke.
“And why would you go there?”
“You certainly had the nerve to go in there, old man.”
Ernst’s gaze tilted toward the wall.
At least twenty keys hung there. Each had been imbued with spells, forming a barrier—magical devices ant precisely for sealing Brunhilde’s chamber. He must have used those.
‘Honestly, I can never read what he is thinking.’
Frowning, Ernst thought.
There was no reason for Christophe to set foot in Tresckow territory. Ernst himself was handling the administration of the estate. Nurous Golems monitored the land and reported objective facts, and docunts could be delivered via transfer spells. As Christophe said, it was a good age.
There was no other role assigned to Christophe.
Suppressing the family’s hostility toward Ernst was sufficient. Even if he claid to be a guardian, Ernst would soon co of age, and Christophe only needed to offer policy advice from ti to ti. So why spend a night at Tresckow Castle?
To look over a dead friend’s bedchamber?
‘What utter nonsense.’
Ernst did not believe in friendships among the powerful.
Though he acted as a nominal guardian, Christophe was like a predator licking his lips beside Ernst. With the power of the Sharma family, swallowing the Tresckow family whole would be trivial. Ernst had asked for help fully aware of that.
“Go on, old man.”
Ernst adjusted his glasses.
“Why did you contact at this hour, from my grandmother’s bedchamber, no less? If there is no pressing business, I would like to go to sleep.”
Redial classes start tomorrow, after all.
Ernst muttered with a sigh.
“It was an assignnt that could not be passed in the first place.”
Ernst bit his lower lip.
“Grasping victory from Professor Argento is impossible. Even if you and my grandmother joined forces to command an army. That man is a monster.”
How pathetic, Ernst.
To be mired in defeatism…, Christophe sneered in a voice devoid of sincerity, then,
Christophe whispered in an upbeat tone.
Yes, that had to be done.
Ernst accepted it with an indifferent expression.
Recognition from the family….
Do not be swayed by such illusory asures.
“…I understand.”
I cannot believe it.
Christophe muttered so.
“?”
There must be so misunderstanding.
I am always kind to commoner students.
Ernst muttered thus, but,
“I understand what you are getting at.”
Damn it.
I know, old man.
Ernst grumbled, brushing his hair back.
“I will go to Tresckow territory next weekend. Let us get this succession ceremony over with in one go.”
“What is the second matter?”
There was one more thing.
Christophe murmured.
Haha.
Christophe burst into hearty laughter, then,
The young heir of the Farenheit family, that is.
He whispered softly.
I hear the Papacy has decided to confer an appointnt.
In other words, he will be leaving your side.
***
The next day, the Vice President’s Office at Cia-Harphe Academy.
White docunts lay spread across Konstanze’s desk.
[…That is how it stands.]
Abel narrowed his eyes.
He read through the contents of the docunts. A sentence stated that the Papacy intended to confer an appointnt upon Demian Fernando von Farenheit, a student of CIAR’s Departnt of Theology. Though Demian still had a year remaining until graduation, they judged that he had achieved sufficient accomplishnts and would be granted the title of Holy Knight.
[You must have anticipated it to so extent?]
“Of course.”
At Konstanze’s question, Abel nodded once.
Demian had succeeded in awakening Aura. It ant that, rather than continuing his education at CIAR, it was appropriate for him to be affiliated with the Papacy as a Holy Knight.
Monika could also wield Aura, but her case differed from Demian’s. Monika had only recently begun learning swordsmanship and had yet to acquire even basic divine magic. By contrast, Demian’s swordsmanship had reached a level comparable to the knights of the Imperial Capital, and his divine magic was complete enough to be deployed in actual combat.
[There have been very few cases of early graduation. That alone shows how exceptional young Farenheit’s talent is. It seems the Papacy is offering him unprecedented treatnt. To receive an appointnt from the Papacy, one must normally pass nurous trials, but….]
It seems he will only have to take the final trial.
Konstanze murmured, and then,
“Pilgrimage.”
Abel spoke the na of the trial.
“He will have to depart on a pilgrimage.”
To formally beco a Holy Knight, one had to undertake a pilgrimage.
After visiting and praying at every cathedral within the Empire’s territory, one would finally reach the Papacy and receive the appointnt. Even by conservative estimates, it was a trial that took at least half a year.
Prayer was rely a nominal custom. The true purpose lay in resolving incidents occurring in the regions where the cathedrals were located. One might encounter Apostates, monsters, or any number of other events—completing a real adventure. That was the final gateway to becoming a Holy Knight.
“Does Demian know this?”
Holding up the docunts, Abel asked, and
“He knows.”
Clatter.
The Vice President’s office door was thrown open.
“I told him last night.”
A large man stepped inside.
His face was covered in scars. The formal attire he had barely managed to don did not suit his appearance. Gerhard von Farenheit—one of the Empire’s top ten knights. The head of the Farenheit family ca to stand beside Abel.
“Good to see you, Professor Argento.”
My son is in your care.
I am Gerhard von Farenheit.
Saying so, Gerhard extended his hand toward Abel.
“It is an honor to et you.”
Abel took Gerhard’s hand.
“I am Abel Argento.”
“I have heard much about you. I hear you threw sand in my son’s eyes?”
“It was part of his education.”
“Of course. I understand.”
Gerhard burst into hearty laughter.
“Demian is not a clever child. Perhaps I was overly eager to raise him upright. Without realizing it, he has been carrying himself far too stiffly. One cannot always live with perfect righteousness.”
“He should have realized that to so extent by now. Demian will soon beco a fine Holy Knight.”
“Is that so?”
If that is the case, then that is a relief.
Gerhard smiled and waved his arm, then,
“In any case, this works out well.”
Why will he not let go?
Wondering that, Abel lowered his gaze. Gerhard was still gripping his hand.
“We were about to begin redial classes starting today.”
Shake, shake.
Looking at Gerhard, who stubbornly kept shaking his arm,
“Even if he is soon to depart on a pilgrimage, would it not be proper to proceed with the planned lessons?”
“It would. Demian will be glad to follow.”
“Therefore, for the redial class scheduled this afternoon….”
I would like to request the assistance of the head of the Farenheit family,
Sir Gerhard.
Abel whispered in a subdued tone.
“The children will enjoy it as well.”
It will be a rare opportunity.
To spar with one of the Empire’s greatest knights….
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