Chapter 16

Chapter 16

As soon as they walked into the room, Bishop greeted Vincent and Olina on behalf of House Ojent, “Welcome. I am Bishop Ojent, master of House Ojent.”

Although Klump and Lye were notably absent, Lian and Leina stepped forward in their stead to greet the Arians. With confidence in his stride, Lian introduced himself.

“Hello, Mr. Arian! I’m Lian, protector and loyal sword of Sirone. I aspire to be the world’s greatest swordsman one day!” he chuckled.

“And I’m Lian’s sister, Leina. I’ve heard a lot about you,” she added.

Vincent, momentarily taken aback, swiftly realized he was in the presence of nobility and respectfully lowered his head. “Greetings! I’m Vincent Arian, Sirone’s father. It’s an honor to be in the presence of House Ojent.”

Leina tilted her head slightly. “Did Sirone not share the news?”

“Pardon? What news do you mean?” Vincent inquired. His mind was racing as he recalled the tall tale his son had recounted the other day. “I-is what he said really true?”

“Forgive us for the delay. We should have explained sooner. But yes, as Sirone mentioned, my brother, Lian, has sworn a Knight’s Oath to him. That’s why we’ve called you both here.”

As Vincent absorbed the unfolding situation, his heart raced with a mixture of emotions. His elation was short-lived, quickly overtaken by a surge of apprehension. How has my innocent son become entangled in such a significant event?

“First, let’s dine together,” Bishop cut in. “We can discuss the details afterward.”

Concluding the matter succinctly for now, he turned away. Although Sir Bishop’s attitude wasn’t particularly friendly, the fact that an esteemed nobleman with a second-class bloodline was using respectful language with him revealed that he was making an effort to control his emotions. It was understandable, given that their youngest son was essentially held hostage in his eyes.

As the Ojent family headed to the dining hall, Vincent remained in his seat, lost in thought. It took a gentle tug from Sirone to bring him back to reality, prompting him to rise and head for the living room. Is this really true? Sirone? And House Ojent? Every aspect seemed shrouded in uncertainty.

Olina, trembling like a frightened girl, clung tightly to her husband’s arm. Vincent’s own legs felt unsteady, and he struggled to maintain a steady gait. Then he vehemently shook his head. No, I must stand strong.

If Sirone’s words were true, he couldn’t afford to display any vulnerability. He had to stand firm in this position for the sake of his son.

Entering the dining hall, they saw that the rectangular table was adorned with an array of exquisite dishes. Being a hunter, Vincent had never laid eyes on some of them before. They were ingredients procured by Leina from the royal palace.

Each seat had been assigned according to protocol. Bishop took the head of the table with Klump on his left and Leina on his right.

Seated at the far end of the table, Vincent couldn’t help but feel the weight of the reality he was facing as he took in the spread of exquisite dishes before him. And in those moments when the head butler, Mr. Louis, and the under-butler, Mr. Temuran, treated him like a formal guest, he couldn’t deny a certain sense of elevation.

However, he couldn’t simply bask in the luxury. Vincent knew he had to maintain his composure, considering his son’s dignity. Yet, his eyes widened at the sight of more than seven different utensils carefully laid out. While a commoner like him might consider just a fork sufficient to devour a wild boar, the assortment his gaze traveled over varied in size and shape. His eyes landed on a few that were entirely unfamiliar.

As the Arian family found themselves grappling with the unfamiliar utensils, a noticeable stillness hung in the air. The butlers and maids, though present, remained conspicuously silent and offered no assistance.

In these unusual circumstances, the display of extreme caution felt out of place. Perhaps some of it was rooted in a subtle disdain for their commoner status.

Setting down his utensils, Bishop addressed them with a reassuring tone. “Please, enjoy your meal. There’s no need to rigidly adhere to noble customs.”

Vincent, though hesitant, voiced his concern, “Still...”

“Ceremonies are merely guidelines, a means to express respect. Your current discomfort alone is enough for our family to feel honored. So, please, eat comfortably.”

A slight shiver ran down Vincent’s spine. Whether it was motivated by pride or not, having House Oject give untouchables like them such attention and consideration was a significant honor.

Upon hearing this, the maids’ faces turned pale. It was evident to them that House Ojent’s sentiments toward Sirone were indeed genuine, and they were wholeheartedly prepared to embrace him. The staff hastened to explain the proper use of the utensils to the Arian family.

The initial challenge was not knowing how to use them, but once understood, it seemed a trivial matter. The Arian family, discerning the situation through discreet observation, finally settled into the meal with a newfound ease.

With this hurdle overcome, Vincent’s concern shifted to his son. What are their true intentions with Sirone? He had been given explanations about the Knight’s Oath, but that didn’t alter the fundamental world that they lived in.

Despite his extraordinary talents, Sirone was the son of a hunter. His remarkable abilities weren’t enough to guarantee a secure future. Vincent couldn’t help but wonder if there might be hidden motives behind House Ojent’s graciousness. While he didn’t want to cast doubt on the people who were being kind to them, when it came to his child, he was unwilling to take any risks.

“Thank you for treating my son kindly, but I do have concerns,” Vincent said, his tone respectful yet firm. “House Ojent is one of the most esteemed noble families in Creyas. It’s almost surreal that a young master from such lineage would pledge a Knight’s Oath to my son.”

Lian laughed. “You don’t have to worry. Sirone and I—”

“To be honest, I am a bit uncomfortable with it,” Bishop interjected.

The room fell into an abrupt stillness, the clinking of cutlery silenced. Despite this, the master of the house remained unfazed, his focus unbroken as he deftly carved at the meat on his plate.

“However, it’s a Knight’s Oath,” he continued, his voice steady and resolute. “Especially in a family like House Ojent, where martial prowess is held in the highest regard, it is a pledge of utmost honor and conviction. If you persist in feeling discomfort merely due to a difference in social standing, I fear it would be a stain on Lian’s honor. We will continue to uphold formality going forward, so please don’t feel overwhelmed.”

Upon hearing that, Sirone came to understand the true nature of nobles. While they might ruthlessly act against commoners to protect their family name, their pride in their lineage was truly unparalleled.

Is this what it means to be a noble? To fight uncompromisingly for one’s beliefs?

For House Ojent, the easy way out was not an option. All they could do was to confront the world head-on. Even if that meant facing an arduous path fraught with countless obstacles and inevitable criticism, not a single member of the household quivered in fear. Indeed, this unyielding spirit was the pride of House Ojent.

Klump’s chuckle filled the room as he said, “It’s been a while since the master spoke some sense. It seems he feels a tinge of loneliness to see even his youngest son leave him. Why not allow Sirone to stay for another year?”

Bishop maintained his composure, choosing not to rise to his father’s provocation.

“Lye has already unlocked Schema, and with his mastery of the Ojent style, the odds of him securing his official certification are substantial. In contrast, Lian has yet to unlock Schema. We can only hope for his success when the time comes for him to attend the Kaizen School of Swordsmanship.”

“You speak as if you subtly favor the black-haired side. Remember that there flows an undying passion in the veins of the blue-haired. Underestimating our dedication could lead to regret.”

Lian, savoring a mouthful of lamb meat, playfully offered his grandfather a thumbs-up.

Bishop, accustomed to his father’s playful jests, responded with a knowing snort, “Be it blue or black, or whether they’re successful or not, they will always be my children. That’s the way of...”

All the members of House Ojent placed their utensils aside and sat up straight. “House Ojent,” they declared in unison.

***

After a thirty-minute break following the meal, the two families reconvened in the living room to discuss Sirone’s future.

Leina mentioned that he had shown a keen interest in magic, and everyone concurred that it would be a better fit for him. Given Sirone’s physique and natural inclinations, pursuing swordsmanship had its limitations.

The warm atmosphere from the meal was replaced by a more serious tone when Klump, wearing a stern expression, turned to Vincent. “As you know, our family is committed to supporting Sirone in his endeavors. From what I’ve heard, he seems to want to become a mage. In that case, why don’t we send him to the Alpheas School of Magic here in Creyas? I have a long-standing friendship with Alpheas, and the school is a well-respected institution in the Kingdom of Tormia. As an officially recognized institution in the kingdom, Sirone would be able to obtain a non-public certification upon graduation. It would be a path to becoming a mage.”

“A m-mage...” Vincent stammered in astonishment.

A mage was a personification of intellect and a master of phenomena. While there were many nobles in this profession, its merit-based nature made it a well-regarded occupation, separate from one’s social status. Once mages obtained their certification, they were highly sought after all over the world.

Even though some wild souls stumbled upon magic independently, others, even commoners, sought apprenticeships under established mages. These rare individuals could work as mercenaries or join mage associations to earn their certifications.

Of course, such cases were extremely rare. For the majority of commoners, the thought of becoming a mage was as elusive as a star in the daytime sky. It was usually a dream beyond their wildest imaginations. The opportunity for Sirone to become a mage and to be admitted into a prestigious school, where he could earn certification upon graduation, was unparalleled.

As a father, Vincent couldn’t possibly decline such an offer.

When Olina began to shed tears, overcome with emotion, Sirone embraced her.

To any onlooker, it was a tender moment, but Klump watched them with a shadowed expression.

Undoubtedly, the magic school was a fast track to becoming a mage. However, their humble origins were a barrier. Unlike other routes, the magic school strictly favored nobility for admission. Even if there were special admissions, meeting those requirements would be like reaching for the stars.

Even for the second-class nobility like House Ojent, obtaining a spot at the magic school through special admissions was challenging. The school was predominantly occupied by students from prestigious backgrounds with many from the more esteemed first-class nobility.

“As you may already know, given Sirone’s current status, he doesn’t qualify for the magic school. While we could potentially handle the admission fee and textbook costs, the real challenge lies in the admission process itself,” Klump remarked.

His words served as a sharp anchor, pulling Vincent back to reality. It was like he had awakened from a sweet dream. “Of course, I’m aware,” he replied, disappointment evident in his tone. It was perhaps also mixed with a hint of shame. Even though his son was recognized by a noble family, he couldn’t enter school due to his father’s status.

“There is a solution. In fact, it might be the only one.”

Immediately, Vincent looked up. Beside him, Sirone’s interest was also piqued, having not heard this proposition before.

“Allow us to adopt Sirone as a ward of our family.”

The room was enveloped in silence. Given the circumstances, Klump’s suggestion, while essentially asking Vincent to give up his son, seemed logical. There was no need to think about whether being the son of a hunter or the son of House Ojent was better. The reason he couldn’t readily speak was none other than the issue of bloodline.

He glanced at Sirone, trying to gauge his reaction, but his face remained unreadable. It was unclear if Sirone anticipated an immediate acceptance or if he considered the proposition utterly absurd.

Bishop picked up where Klump left off. “After discussions within our family, we believe this to be the optimal solution. We have a relative without any heirs. By registering Sirone under his name, he would gain noble status and could attend the school. I understand your concerns about giving up your rights to your son. It’s simply a matter of filling out some forms. In essence, nothing will change.”

The idea that it was merely paperwork seemed deceptively simple. Yet, in reality, so many of the world’s issues hinged on such documents.

Vincent was torn. How could he regard Sirone legally as being another’s child without a pang of loss? He thought desperately, Please say something, Sirone. What should I say? What do you want? Turning to his son, burdened by emotion, he sought clarity.

As Sirone’s expression grew more troubled, Vincent wondered if his indecision was the cause.

Amidst the weighty silence, Leina chimed in, “Sirone, what do you think? It’s merely a matter of documentation. You’ll have the chance to become a noble and pursue your dreams. Rest assured, we’ll always recognize your parents as your true family, and nothing much will change.”

With a deepening frown, Sirone responded, seemingly puzzled by the proposal.