Chapter 6.2 – I’m a Smart Guy, You Know

It was all extremely businesslike, yet Count Borick still received Tistria-sama’s words of gratitude.

He felt as though he might be summoned to the heavens.

“W-well, my son is now fit to assume the lordship. Therefore, I intend to yield the seat to him and devote myself to serving the nation as a Knight…”

“As one of noble birth, that is a splendid resolve. You are the very image of a true aristocrat.”

“Oh, such praise is overwhelming…”

Count Borick burst into tears of joy; his wife and son wept right along with him.

To the elated family, Tistria-sama offered one last caution.

“Now… this question may sound insulting to someone who has agreed to stand as a Knight, yet protocol requires that I ask.”

“Hah…!”

“Until now, you were sheltered by the Knight Order, the one who pleaded for its help. From this moment, you will join that Order—one who protects, one who aids—and… you will serve under me, though I am still young.”

Wearing an utterly businesslike face—devoid of even a hint of allure—she put her question to Count Borick.

“Will you follow my orders and be ready to lay down your life?”

Who could possibly say no to that?

Count Borick’s expression hardened; he answered with resolve.

“Yes—leave it to me!”

At those words, the Knights beside Tistria-sama frowned.

Their look was almost contemptuous—hardly the welcome one gives a new comrade.

Count Borick, however, noticed nothing.

“Very well. From this moment you are a Knight, my subordinate. Now, Borick, your first order.”

“Yes, anything you command!”

In Sir Borick the Knight’s mind, he pictured himself carrying out glorious missions.

This first assignment had to be a summons to the royal capital, a ceremony of honor—his formal investiture.

His wife and son thought the same.

That is how it normally goes—under ordinary circumstances.

But Sir Borick was never an ordinary Knight.

“I will test your ability. I shall strike—defend yourself.”

“Hah! W-what…?”

“Rest easy; I will pull my blows. If your rumored skill is real, you’ll block this easily. Countess, heir—please step back. It may still be somewhat rough.”

Without changing her expression, Tistria-sama drew the sword at her hip.

The blade was broad—ill-suited to her slender frame—and its surface was etched with thick, intricate magic circles.

A national-treasure sword, forged over years by an elite arch-mage. She raised it high.

“P-please wait… Tistria-sama… wh-why?”

“I lead warriors. I measure my subordinates’ strength with my own eyes. As I said, I won’t use full power; treat it as a light spar and defend.”

“You call that holding back? J-just how much?!”

Borick’s face drained of color.

Moments ago, smug; moments ago, resolute—now pale and drenched in sweat.

“Let’s see… were you a commoner struck unguarded, you’d escape instant death, but you’d suffer untreatable wounds, remain conscious, and die slowly. That is how much I’ll hold back.”

Even mid-swing, she was beautiful—yet her words were merciless.

(That phrasing… she knows! Or at least suspects! She means to expose me!)

Sir Borick nearly wet himself.

The nightmare he’d tried not to imagine was unfolding.

“Tistria-sama…!”

“I hear you can cast grand magic without chant, circle, or sweat. I’m eager to see it.”

“P-please wait!”

It was a pitiful sight.

His fine words from earlier were pure show; now he cowered, begging.

“…I—I…”

“What is it? Shall I strike?”

“P-please forgive me…!”

Even a common iron blade would kill Borick if she swung.

Against humanity’s best, it would go exactly as she warned.

He was cornered into exposing the one thing he most wished hidden.

“That was… a magic trick!”

“Oh? A trick?”

“Yes—sleight and gimmickry, mere stagecraft!”

Even now, he hid the most crucial point, hoping still to stay a Knight.

“Such feats require meticulous preparation…”

“Not magic, then, but conjuring… understood.”

“Are you disappointed?”

“Not in the least.”

Tistria-sama still held her sword aloft.

That she kept it motionless showed her strength—and her lingering readiness to kill.

“My former subordinate, the elite Elf Avior—you defeated him, trick or not. That alone grants you knightly standing.”

“O-oh… your generosity shames me. Had I only spoken sooner…”

Sir Borick believed he was safe—pathetic, but perhaps a Knight-illusionist.

“Then disclose the trick and its workings.”

“…Huh?”

“You cannot explain it?”

“…Th-that is…”

“Detail every preparation. As your superior, I must know what to supply.”

She was perfectly reasonable.

An onlooker could refuse; a subordinate could not.

It was the one truth he would never, ever voice—Not before family, not before the Supreme Commander, not even in his own thoughts.

Yet he had always known it.

Precisely because it was true, he could not bear to admit it.

“I-I… when I perform that trick…”

If he could explain now, life would be easy.

But he could not—he had only ordered it done.

“I-I had others do it for me…”

Even this answer clung to pride, phrased to shield himself.

“I see, so you—”

But that shield was paper-thin.

“—did nothing at all?”

Before an absolute superior, he could only answer.

“…Yes.”

How it hurt to say a single yes.

Without today’s peril, he never would have admitted it.

“I see. Then summon that ‘illusionist.’ That is your final task as a Knight.”

“…!”

“Your answer?”

“Yes…!”

The words were wrung from him; Sir Borick’s greasy frame was now empty of spirit.

※

Ten days after Tistria-sama’s departure, the Illegal Mage Gaikaku Hikume visited Count Borick’s castle.

Believing the Count not quite that foolish, he headed in without suspicion.

As always, he slipped through the unmanned back gate, along deserted corridors, into the private study.

Had he passed where people gathered, he’d have sensed the tension and fled.

Instead, following habit… he reached the audience chamber—where Tistria-sama awaited.

[Kihihihi…]

“Count Borick-sama, what a pleas—what?”

Even hooded, Gaikaku’s knees buckled.

His exaggerated bow collapsed into a neat sit on the floor.

“You are Gaikaku Hikume, yes? I am Tistria, Supreme Knight Commander of this realm.”

Count Borick was there too, made to kneel on the carpet.

So Gaikaku saw only Tistria-sama—A knightly goddess of overwhelming presence.

At a glance, he grasped everything.

“You… you fatty! Were you this stupid?!”

He blurted the thought aloud—straight into Count Borick’s ears.

“You…!”

Rage flared.

Such insolence toward a lofty noble warranted death.

“Indeed, I feel the same.”

But Tistria-sama spoke up, wholly agreeing.

Count Borick fell silent.

“Be clear: I am not upset that you fooled your people with parlor tricks.”

She deliberately showed understanding, acknowledging his charade.

“Posturing is part of nobility. Subjects fear a weak lord; even false strength can reassure them.”

A trifle—not worth scolding.

“Nor am I angry that this fool ordered you to kill Avior. A lord directing vassals against bandits is routine.”

Now she revealed the sole issue—one that had been obvious from the start.

“The problem is that you claimed to be a Knight, acted skilled before me, and waited—until life and death—to speak. Nothing else.”

(Exactly…!)

Gaikaku agreed wholeheartedly.

Had Borick confessed sooner, Tistria-sama would not have dug so deep.

“Had you spoken first, none of this would follow. But… you proved untrustworthy.”

“P-please forgive me…!”

“I will not.”

Tistria-sama turned away from Borick and faced Gaikaku Hikume.

She was beautiful—and daunting.

Gaikaku trembled where he knelt.

“You may only be a messenger, yet I value you highly.”

“I-I am honored…!”

“I knew Avior’s strength—he was under me. Had I sent an official squad, one or two might have died with him. You alone slew him and kept handling small jobs. Call that anything but capable? Impossible.”

Count Borick quaked.

Such praise should have been his—yet it lavished a man sprawling on the carpet.

Humiliation, jealousy—indescribable.

But that was merely his self-serving standard.

“Normally, I’d have gone myself. That subjugation request—half to verify Borick’s rumors, half to warn him. An elite ex-Knight Elf as a bandit might deter rash moves… you know how that ended.”

Tistria-sama’s judgment was spot-on.

“Well then, Gaikaku Hikume. As Supreme Knight Commander, I formally invite you…”

She extended the invitation as Commander.

“Y-you invite me… to be a Knight?!”

Gaikaku shook.

He had never wanted this—he had feared it—yet now was stunned.

“No… to be Knight Commander.”

Reality went a step further.

“Huh?!”

“Huh?!”

Count Borick and Gaikaku answered in perfect sync—for one moment, hearts united.

“I-I was only asked to be a Knight, yet this shady mage is to be Knight Commander?! Unthinkable! Reconsider!”

“Exactly! Me, Knight Commander? Nonsense!”

Both were so rattled their words tangled.

Tistria-sama had foreseen the chaos.

“Silence.”

She would allow Gaikaku any outburst, but not Borick.

With one word, she silenced him.

“I could have made you an Order-Commander—had you spoken honestly. You threw away that chance through your own folly.”

“Wh-what…”

If he’d been truthful, he could have led an Order.

Realizing that, he was even more dazed—as though sinking past the lowest hell.

“Gaikaku Hikume. Your feats are undeniable, yet it strains belief you acted alone. As for your methods… ‘conjuring’ fits. I will not pry further, but I see matters unfit for daylight.”

(Exactly…!)

“Hence, rather than fold you into an existing Order, I judge it wiser to raise your band intact to full Knight-Order status.”

She knew his secrets, yet invited him—the magnanimous arrogance of true authority.

“If you accept my command… fulfill your missions and I will shield you. Stay within bounds, and your freedom stands. If you refuse…”

It was a question that allowed only yes.

“I will investigate you formally. You know what that means.”

Gaikaku chose his words with care.

“…May I take some time to confer on this?”

“Certainly. Take it and discuss.”

He could not refuse, yet he was granted deliberation—the lone freedom allowed.