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Translator: Lizz
“Wow, you’re taking on an apprentice, Leon?”
“Well, although it might be presumptuous of me to say, you are technically my apprentice too.”
The girl laughed, her lovely face framed by a luxurious lace collar. Her blonde hair, neatly tied, shone like gold in the afternoon summer sunlight. Beneath the hair, which looked as soft and fresh as melted honey, peeked out eyes the exact color of blooming wild violets. Her beauty was not the flashy kind, but it mysteriously made those who saw her feel refreshed. If she had made her debut in high society after coming of age, she would undoubtedly have been admired for her appearance and intelligence. However, such a future was already closed off to her.
“Yes, it’s an honor.”
The girl replied, her voice as refreshing as a bell. As if in agreement, a fish jumped on the surface of the lake. Leon couldn’t help but smile wryly at the girl’s carefree demeanor.
Rosalind was the second daughter of Lord Andrews, a noble, though one of lower rank. Normally, a lowly mage like Leon would not be permitted to converse with her. If her father were to hear that she was proud to be his apprentice, who knew what kind of reprimand he would receive.
Lord Andrews’ vacation home was located by the lake near the village of Lille. The mansion, aptly nicknamed ‘Lady of the Lake’, was a dainty structure with white walls and red tiles. Surrounded by the clear lake and colorful flower beds, it looked like a red-haired fairy in a white dress frolicking in the fields.
Rosalind was unfortunately born with a guiding vein. In this country, where mages were despised, a noble’s daughter having a guiding vein was equivalent to having all her paths closed off. She had been brought to this mansion at a young age to be hidden from the world, and had been raised here ever since. Leon was called to be her private tutor on magic because he lived in the countryside and had few connections, not even belonging to a guild. Lord Andrews feared more than anything that rumors of his daughter having a guiding vein would spread.
“How old is your apprentice?”
“Twelve, I believe.”
“Is it a girl?”
“No, it’s a boy.”
Upon hearing this, Rosalind looked slightly disappointed. Confined to this secluded mansion, her only companions were her frail mother and the servants. It was only natural that she would occasionally wish for a friend near her age.
“A boy… Even so, I’d like to meet him.”
“That’s impossible.”
There was no way he could bring him here, and even less chance of taking her there.
“Yes, you’re right.”
Rosalind nodded easily, but she had another reason for her agreement.
“I think my mother will talk to you later, but I believe we’ll have to take a break from magic studies for a while.”
“What? But we’re almost finished.”
She was a quick learner, and since her father had only requested enough education to prevent her powers from going out of control, there was nothing left to teach her after just about a year.
The girl gave a sad, wry smile at Leon’s words.
“…It seems I’ll be leaving the mansion for a while. The plans are already set, so I’m sorry, but could we continue the lessons when I return?'”
Of course, Leon had no objections. However, it was rare for her to leave the mansion.
“I’m sure you’ll have stories about your new apprentice when I return.”
Raising her slender pale arms into the air, Rosalind said in a deliberately bright voice. She closed her eyes lightly and began to softly weave words.
A few seconds later, a thin column of water rose from the lake with a sound like the wind blowing, drawing an arch before returning to the lake. After repeating this motion several times, a short rainbow appeared in the air.
“I look forward to them.”
Rosalind said, gazing somewhat sadly at the rainbow she had created.
A few days later, a man wearing a brass medal around his neck arrived, accompanied by a shabby-looking boy. From that medal and his simple attire, devoid of any armor or cloak, it was clear that the man was a mage from the Iron Fortress. It was also evident who the boy accompanying him was.
The boy was skinny and pale, with gangly limbs and eyes that shone with an unusual brightness. If you hadn’t known he was twelve, you might have thought he was around ten. His clothes, like their owner, were tattered and worn, with fabric thinning in places and stained with dirt. They were so ill-fitting that you might suspect he had stolen them from someone else.
However, the eyes that looked up at Leon held a fierceness that could intimidate even adults, and his tightly closed mouth seemed to declare an unwillingness to engage in any conversation.
Having no other choice, Leon urged the boy in and guided him towards his bedroom; the sun had already set and it would be best to let him rest for now. Perhaps, once he was rested, the boy’s stubborn attitude might change.
As soon as Leon inherited the mansion from Ceres, he had rented it out to a family. He couldn’t have imagined anyone coming from afar to become his live-in apprentice, nor had he expected many to come even as commuting apprentices. He had decided to use the rental income from the mansion to cover part of his living expenses and moved to a small house half-buried in the forest on the outskirts of the village. In the end, this arrangement worked out fine, as even at the busiest times, he only had about five commuting apprentices.
Now, with the decision to house an apprentice, Leon thought about the situation. This small house only had three rooms that could be called such. The room that served as both the kitchen and living room was closest to the entrance, and he was reluctant to let the child sleep there alone. The remaining options were Leon’s own bedroom and the library. Without hesitation, Leon decided to give up his own bed. The library, filled to the brim with various books inherited from Ceres and painstakingly collected by Leon, was a treasure to him. He couldn’t let a stranger into such a treasure trove. Rather than do that, he chose to give up his bed, which at least had sheets and blankets, and sleep on a mattress on the floor.
Sleeping directly on the cold, hard wooden floor left Leon’s body so stiff the next morning that his bones creaked with every movement. He was exhausted just from sleeping, but he knew he had to get used to it. Sighing, he left the library and found the boy standing in front of the fireplace. The sharpness in the boy’s eyes as he turned to look at Leon was unchanged from the previous night, making Leon want to sigh again.
Those eyes held a mix of disgust and hatred, anxiety and anger. All these emotions were intertwined, creating a torrent of uncontrollable feelings.
For a mage, controlling emotions was an absolutely necessary skill. The fluctuations of emotions were linked to the connection with the magical vein. Simply put, if emotions run high, a mage could unintentionally and randomly connect to the magical vein, unleashing an uncontrolled mass of power. This was called a rampage. It made perfect sense that this boy had had multiple rampages in the past. Being able to tell just by looking into his eyes was not at all gratifying.
“Did you sleep well?”
Silence.
“I’ll make breakfast, so wait a bit.”
Silence.
The silence was so intense it was almost painful. It was clear that there was a great emotional turmoil within the boy, but whether he was not talking because of that or simply because he was wary of meeting someone new was hard to tell. Trying not to think too much about Dariesh, Leon stirred the embers, added more logs to revive the fire in the fireplace, and cracked eggs into a flat pan.
Although he often skipped breakfast out of laziness, it wouldn’t be good for a growing child. Children were always hungry.
The simple breakfast of bread and fried eggs was eaten silently by the boy without complaint. The meals at the Iron Fortress must have been more substantial, but he didn’t seem particularly dissatisfied.
When the boy finished eating, Leon spoke to him again.
“Hey, you came here to learn magic. You understand that, don’t you?”
The boy glared back at him with an upward glance, still refusing to say a word or nod his head. Leon felt an urge to say ‘If you fail here, you’ll be killed’, but he knew that would be immature and cruel. He struggled to suppress his own impatience.
“…Answer this at least. Otherwise, I’ll keep calling you ‘hey’ or ‘you’ from now on. Or maybe I’ll call you by a pet’s name.”
Leon said this while pointing his index finger at the boy’s nose.
“My name is Leon. What’s yours?”
It was silent for a while. Confront with the intense gaze looking straight at him, Leon was just about to give up, thinking he would remain silent when the boy finally spoke.
“Zechs.”
He said, his voice strong and full of life, a stark contrast to his frail appearance.
Silavin: Do note all photos from the Light Novel will only be posted in the Patreon. A little troublesome to post it here.
