Chapter 300 - The Elven Princes and the Human Prince
Nathan Evenhart:
I reflected for a moment on what the old elf had said. Everyone has their own way of dealing with grief, and after that conversation, he went right back to being the same scoundrel as always, telling his exaggerated stories and absurd jokes. In the end, I decided not to bring up the war again and just listened to his adventures.
"Come on, we're almost there, Professor," I said, holding firmly onto Professor Beatrix's shoulders as I tried to help her stay on her feet. My goal was to get her safely to the teachers' residential area on the academy grounds.
"A-aalright… we're almost…" she mumbled, her voice sluggish and her legs unsteady.
I had found her drinking alone at the tavern right after the old elf had left. That scoundrel never told me his real name. A mystery that, deep down, I had already accepted.
I sighed, pushing that thought aside and focusing on Beatrix, who had clearly drunk more than she could handle.
"W-what were you doing in that tavern, Nathan Evenhart?" she suddenly asked, her voice thick with alcohol. "That place is… for people with little money… not for someone of your status…"
I let out a small chuckle.
"I was just keeping a friend company, but… what about you? Drinking like this… doesn't seem like something you would do."
She leaned on me a little more, as if the alcohol was weighing her down even further.
"Today… today is my birthday…"
The revelation caught me off guard, and I tried to ease the awkward silence with a sincere smile.
"Happy birthday, Professor."
She raised her bottle, forcing a bitter smile.
"A toast… to me."
Before she could drink again, I took the bottle from her hand.
"No more drinking, Professor Beatrix."
We were walking along a secluded trail within the academy. She had insisted on not getting off at the main carriage drop-off point, too embarrassed to be seen in this state.
"I'm turning… 54 today…"
I widened my eyes, and before I could react, she laughed at my expression.
"Hey… I saw that. Don't worry, converted to human age, it would be the equivalent of a 30-year-old woman… I think. And besides, we don't age as visibly as humans do."
We kept walking, the silence between us broken only by the rustling of leaves beneath our feet.
"And why were you drinking like that, all alone? You should be celebrating with friends… or with your family."
She let out a bitter laugh—the kind that carried no real amusement.
"I… fought with my family ten years ago, when I left home. I haven't seen them since…"
I simply nodded, feeling the weight of her words.
"I was supposed to stay in the Elven Kingdom… my father is a count. I renounced my nobility and gave everything up."
"Why?"
She hesitated for a moment, as if debating whether she should really tell me.
"I have my reasons… ghosts that have haunted me since the war."
I nodded again.
"I see…"
Then, she let out a quiet chuckle.
"Not in the literal sense—ghosts don't exist."
Her laugh felt more like a desperate attempt to distract herself from the pain, as if the alcohol was only pushing those feelings to the surface.
"And now… I've become an old spinster. At my age, I should be… married… maybe even with kids… But look at me, a toast to my glorious failure."
"Professor… there's still time. You've got at least another hundred years ahead of you," I said, reminding myself of how long elves lived—they could reach close to 150 years.
She gave me a playful, almost challenging look.
"Hmm… maybe, but… I'd have to find someone who impresses me as a warrior. That's my only requirement. So far, no one has."
"That's going to be tough… in pure swordsmanship, you're one of the best in the world," I said.
She stopped, staring at me with a lopsided smile, her half-lidded eyes gleaming.
"Then keep working hard, Nathan… who knows, maybe when you're older… and out of the academy…"
…Huh?
***
A few days had passed, and I was back to my routine in Apsalon. It was a relief to be able to walk the streets without a constant entourage of guards surrounding me. Here, I was just another noble, and that sense of normalcy was welcome.
"Master Nathan," Kinue called, approaching in her usual maid uniform, always impeccable. "I'll be nearby, accompanying Lady Chloe. I'll stop by from time to time to check if you need anything," she said, her voice as gentle as ever, yet firm.
"We'll be shopping for some clothes," Chloe added, adjusting her dress as she cast a casual glance my way.
As the two of them walked off toward a nearby store, I turned my attention back to Edmund, who was seated beside me. We had chosen a table at an outdoor café, the cool breeze and the sounds of the bustling commercial district creating a calm and lively atmosphere.
Edmund gave me a thoughtful look before flashing a knowing smirk.
"They're both very beautiful… anyone lucky enough to be in a relationship with either of them would be fortunate."
I simply smiled, already guessing where this conversation was headed.
"Did you know your cousin has turned down every man who's approached her at the academy?" he continued, watching the passersby as he spoke. "And, interestingly enough, you've also rejected every woman who's made a move on you…"
He narrowed his eyes, a sly grin forming on his lips.
"So, what's the truth? Are you two in a relationship, or do you plan to be?"
I stared at the cup of tea the waiter had just placed in front of us.
"I won't deny it…" I replied, watching the amber liquid swirl in the cup.
"But was it by choice or obligation?" Edmund asked, his tone more serious now. "If this bond was formed purely for political reasons, well… I've always heard that feelings tend to develop over time in arranged marriages. Sometimes, it takes years."
I took a deep breath, considering the best way to answer.
"We care about each other," I admitted, keeping my eyes on the tea. "It was… a bit of both. It started as a political arrangement, but I already liked her before I even found out about it."
Edmund seemed to mull over my words, nodding slowly.
"Then you're lucky," he said with a small smile. "That's not so common. I, for one, will have to marry whichever noble lady my father chooses for me."
Our conversation continued as the waiter returned with more tea, silently refilling our cups before stepping away. The warm aroma of herbal tea filled the air.
"Want to pick up where we left off?" Edmund asked, referring to our conversation from the other day. "You seemed really interested back then. I have to admit, I've never seen anyone so engaged in military matters. You even brought up points I had never considered before."
I kept a subtle smile.
"It's just a hobby… I developed an interest over time," I replied.
Edmund nodded and continued explaining the geopolitical positions, describing the size of the army, common tactics, and the fragile alliances between the duchies that had shifted over the centuries. I absorbed every detail, comparing it to what I already knew. He mentioned the two families closest to the royal crown—his own Valemont family and the Saul family, both allies since the kingdom's founding. The extreme trust the royal family placed in them made them almost untouchable, a force both militarily and politically.
For centuries, the royal family had never attempted to ally with a duchy through marriage… at least, not directly. Maybe they didn't like the idea of another high-status family becoming part of their own? Maybe… out of fear that someone might take over House Asalon from within.
"So, considering the latest census count and the less populated regions…" he concluded. "We probably have somewhere around eight million people on the continent, maybe a little more or a little less."
I knew they were right. This kind of data was crucial for planning long-term strategies, especially with the growing tensions with the other continent.
Eight million people… for an entire continent. Population-wise, what they call a 'continent' is smaller than what I would have considered a continent in my previous world.
Out of those eight million people, only about 1% possessed the gift of magic. The number fluctuated across generations depending on birth rates, but that was the general average. That meant there were only around 80,000 mages across the entire continent.
However, not all mages were on the same level as me or Edmund. The vast majority were much weaker—not due to lack of effort or dedication, but because of a factor that determined a person's magical potential: lineage.
If someone was born as the first mage in a commoner family, their mana gem would develop at the lowest level: Ember. That was the same level as a young noble child at the start of their training. The mana gem levels were: Ember, Flare, Flame, Blaze, Star, and Sun.
Each time the gem evolved, a mage's capacity and control over mana increased significantly. However, over 95% of the mages on the continent never advanced beyond Flare, the second level in the ranking.
A family of noble military officers, with generations of mages, usually reached at most the Flame level. Since lineage played such a crucial role, some purist mages only sought relationships with other mages to preserve their bloodlines.
In the study and practice of magic, lineage could be wasted if a mage didn't explore their talents. That's why many nobles hired specialist instructors when their children awakened to magic—to ensure their mana gem developed properly from an early age, allowing them to discover their mana affinities and helping their bodies create mana channels suited for those affinities. However, this wasn't something accessible to everyone. Only a few were wealthy enough to hire and retain a renowned instructor, covering all expenses, including any contracts they might have, for months. Just like what happened with me when Adrihna came.
But if I really think about it, even in this aspect, lineage played a decisive role. After all, if a mage hailed from a powerful bloodline of mages, they were far more likely to have the resources necessary to hire a specialist for mana gem development.
Mana gems at the Blaze level and beyond were exclusive to ancient noble bloodlines like mine, where magic was so powerful that it shaped social status itself.
That was why the highest tier of nobility produced the strongest mages and, consequently, held the most power. Who would dare oppose a mage of overwhelming strength? Normal humans stood no chance.
The noble houses that had ruled for centuries remained in power, not just through brute strength, but because their sheer existence alone was enough to intimidate any thoughts of rebellion.
But power and comfort came at a price. If these high nobles were the most powerful, who would protect them when true chaos erupted? It was easy to assume that loyal armies would fight for them… but in a scenario where losing meant the end of their entire bloodline, would a high noble really entrust that responsibility to others?
This was the truth behind conflicts. In times of war, it was the high nobles themselves who stepped onto the battlefield, for they were the deadliest weapons of their kingdoms.
"The other continent… the True Humans… they number somewhere around seventy million, according to the information we've gathered over the years," Edmund commented thoughtfully, breaking my train of thought.
Seventy million. And just like us, only 1% possesses special abilities. In their case, Aura. That means there are approximately 700,000 Aura users compared to the 80,000 mages on our continent.
Terrifying numbers, no doubt. But the truth was more complex. Most wars weren't fought by mages or Aura warriors, but by ordinary people. Armies of powerless soldiers clashing in bloody battles.
The other continent, vast and fragmented into various kingdoms and empires, suffered from its own internal conflicts. That was why they couldn't simply march in our direction, despite their overwhelming numbers.
The true obstacle keeping the two continents at a standstill was a natural force: the Border.
A land of ice and death. More people died from the extreme cold than from battles there.
"In those fortresses, common soldiers are the majority, while mages hold command positions," Edmund explained.
Each duchy or kingdom sent a quota of new soldiers to the Border annually, and in return, they brought back veterans who had completed their service. It was a continuous cycle. However, only the most influential military families were granted the right to protect the central fortresses, where attacks were frequent. The coastal fortresses, on the other hand, had not faced an invasion in millennia—not because they were impenetrable, but because they stood at the heart of the coldest region.
By land, an invasion from the other continent was impossible due to the extreme cold, the blizzards, the thick fogs, and other natural obstacles that made any military campaign nearly suicidal. And by sea, no fleet could cross the frozen, treacherous waters.
The ocean there was so hostile that even ships sailing close to the coast couldn't withstand the violent currents and the bitter cold, sinking before any invasion attempt could begin.
As Edmund spoke, I absorbed every detail, making mental notes.
Was our numerical disadvantage really what kept them from invading us?
Or was there something more?
My grandfather had been an incredibly brave man for crossing into the other continent and returning alive. Few had accomplished such a feat. But there was one thing I had never been able to understand.
How could two continents, with such distinct cultures and no direct contact, speak the same language?
That was one mystery I had yet to unravel.
***
I was on my way to the student council area, a secluded part of the academy filled with training fields and magical practice rooms, resembling a full-fledged military base.
Last year, I had only gone once a week, but the headmistress had increased the frequency, which disrupted my habit of studying history in search of answers about the demons I had seen in that vision.
As I walked and observed the students, my mind drifted back to my conversation with Edmund and some theories about why our continent was so vastly outnumbered compared to the other. The answer… was magic.
Even with healing magic, our population barely grew. Magic, which should have been a blessing, sometimes felt more like a curse. This continent seemed designed to ensure comfort for the mage nobility, while common people were left struggling on the margins. Those who weren't part of the magical elite lived in a constant fight for survival. Everything around us seemed built to make life easier for mages, with little thought given to those born without magic.
How could a commoner possibly compete with a mage farmer? Nobles with water and earth mages at their command could produce far more than any peasant family ever could. The gap between nobles and commoners was vast—almost cruel. And the entire structure of this continent revolved around mages.
Why would a mage, capable of conjuring water with a snap of their fingers, ever worry about the droughts ruining a commoner's crops? Deep down, we are arrogant, even if we don't want to admit it. Even without realizing it, we look down on others. Maybe this arrogance was part of the reason why our population grew so slowly. Healing magic, for example, was only available to the nobility, which had left conventional medicine stagnant.
If a commoner suffered a severe injury, the chances of losing a limb were incredibly high. Meanwhile, if I got hurt, I could just ask Martha to heal me or use a healing potion. The kind of medicine available to the general population was a joke. People died from simple infections—just from stepping on a sharp rock barefoot—while mages could solve everything with a spell or money.
The disparity between these two realities was absurd, yet it was so deeply ingrained in society that no one questioned it. On the other continent, where magic didn't exist, the population was far larger. They didn't rely on spells and had been forced to develop in fields like medicine. Here, magic sustained us, but it was also what prevented us from expanding as rapidly in terms of population. At least, that was my understanding of the situation.
As I walked with Syvis, we observed soldiers training in tactical formations—wind barriers and coordinated fireball volleys. Knights rode winged horses, and mages divided into specific roles, such as water casters to block charges and earth users for heavy defense.
Each training field tested a different magical approach. While few were truly powerful, the secret lay in combined tactics that made even weaker mage troops more effective. I noticed that the elves, in addition to the common elements, used plant magic, while the more talented demi-humans specialized in mud magic.
My own element, thunder, was destructive but limited. It vanished upon impact, unlike fire or ice, which left lasting effects on the battlefield. It was fascinating to see how each element shaped combat strategies.
"I think Tiffania will be there," Syvis commented. "She doesn't really like these council meetings."
"Yeah… I've only seen her from a distance a few times. She was never present in the meetings I attended," I replied.
"Tiffania is… peculiar. She has a lot of responsibilities in the Elven Kingdom, even more than I do. She was invited to the student council because she's a high noble—and, of course, for her healing abilities. She already works as a healer even though she hasn't graduated yet. But she usually keeps to herself, prefers staying in her room," Syvis explained.
I found myself comparing her to Professor Adrihna—another recluse. Was this a common trait among high elves?
Up ahead, I spotted a large circular building made of red stone, surrounded by long wooden tables where knights sat eating their meals outdoors. The student council's meeting area was always located in the military sector, led by the council president. Since Elara was the current president, we were in the human training sector. If Tiffania or a demi-human were in charge, the meeting would be held in the training grounds of their respective people.
As we approached, uniformed soldiers stood guard at the doors. Even though they were students, they had already embraced the seriousness of their roles. One of them stepped forward, firm and unwavering.
"Good afternoon. Identify yourselves. From this point on, only authorized personnel are allowed entry."
"We are high nobles," Syvis stated calmly. "We've come for the meeting with the princess."
The soldier seemed to recognize us immediately, but he maintained his formal stance.
"Understood. You may enter," he said, stepping aside.
As soon as we crossed the entrance and the doors shut behind us, I couldn't help but comment:
"I bet he knew exactly who we were."
"Without a doubt," Syvis chuckled. "I think they take their training a little too seriously."
The corridor was silent and dimly lit, with only the echo of our footsteps filling the space. Suddenly, a deep, guttural roar echoed ahead. The sound of heavy paws thudding against the floor followed, and then—a monstrous creature came charging toward us.
"AAAAARGH!" the beast roared.
Without thinking, I moved instinctively, stepping in front of Syvis. But as I focused, I recognized the creature.
A quadruped, white as snow, with wings folded against its back, its body a fusion of a massive horse and a lion. An Asalon Manticore. The only one of its kind.
It stopped right in front of me, locking eyes with mine, as if sizing me up. Its tense muscles signaled that it was considering an attack.
"Why is it doing that?" Syvis whispered, a hint of tension in her voice.
I met the magical beast's gaze, making sure it looked at me—and understood who was in control.
Tremble!
I projected my killing intent, and the Asalon Manticore instinctively recoiled, taking a few steps back.
"Are you two alright?" a voice called from further down the corridor.
A blonde young man appeared, walking toward us with an air of calm authority.
"Apologies, he didn't recognize you."
"Prince Duncan?" Syvis identified him.
The prince gestured toward the Asalon Manticore.
"Leave, Emperor. You misbehaved," he ordered. The beast obediently backed away, disappearing down the corridor.
Duncan turned to Syvis, flashing a confident smile.
"Princess Syvis, it's good to see you again. My apologies for that—I promise he wouldn't have actually attacked."
Syvis simply nodded, maintaining her noble composure.
Duncan then turned to me, a smug smile forming on his lips.
"Ah, and you must be the infamous 'runner.' I hear you're always skipping training and dodging recruitment attempts." He chuckled.
"I just… don't like training in groups."
"If it's because you're bad at it, don't worry. I can teach you how a real warrior fights." He smirked. "Looks like I'll have to attend council meetings more often this year."
I ignored the remark and tried to steer the conversation elsewhere.
"I'll think about it…"
He simply laughed and motioned for us to follow.
"I'm glad you made it. Come along, Elara is waiting. She turns into a beast when things don't go according to plan… Even with a month left until the excursion, she wants everything perfectly organized."
Duncan Asalon:
I continued walking down the corridor, guiding Syvis and Nathan toward the student area. The other students were gathered in a room, chatting as they prepared for the excursion schedule.
"Princess Syvis," I said, bowing slightly, trying to show respect. "I apologize for what my companion did. Emperor is usually friendly to people… I don't know what happened."
She seemed a little uncomfortable with my apology but tried to maintain her composure.
"Do not worry, Prince Duncan," she responded politely.
"I'm glad to have your forgiveness," I said with a faint smile, trying to mask the frustration growing inside me.
I glanced quickly at Nathan Evenhart, offering a small smile that hid a hint of irritation. "I'll take Emperor to the resting area. I'll meet you both in a bit." And with that, I turned my back and let them move on.
As soon as they passed through the door and it closed behind them, I let out a deep sigh. The frustration I had been holding back took over, and I pressed my fingers against my temples.
"Shit…" I muttered, feeling the irritation rise. "Everything would have gone perfectly if that boy had been scared too. I would have shown up, saved Syvis, and impressed her…" The perfect opportunity had been wasted.
I approached Emperor.
"Kru?" Emperor made a noise, looking at me with confusion.
Anger boiled inside me, and without thinking, I raised my hand and hurled a stone at high speed, grazing him. Emperor jumped back, startled.
"Failure!" I shouted, throwing more stones as he tried to dodge. "You ruined everything, Emperor! You were supposed to make them more afraid!"
Emperor, terrified, tried to back away, but the space was too small. My words carried the weight of my frustration as I unleashed my magic against him, letting out the rage that had been building up inside me.
"Now I'll have to teach you again what happens to those who disobey a king!" I said coldly.
I pulled a whip from my storage bracelet, the leather cracking through the air as I stepped toward Emperor. In my mind, his failure was something I couldn't let go unpunished. Emperor needed to understand his place again—no matter the cost. He needed to learn the weight and honor of serving a king.