The Eminence in Shadow, Vol. 2 (Light Novel)

by Daisuke Aizawa

  Claire’s match is over already, so whatever.

  After heading back to the dorm, I start running through scenarios.

  Chapter 8

  Lay Your Eyes on My True Powers!

  It’s a new day.

  I sit in my reserved seat and sip my free coffee. Apparently, nobody except Mitsugoshi has figured out how to make this stuff yet. Hats off to them.

  “Mmm.”

  I take mine with loads of milk and sugar, by the way.

  I wasn’t huge on the reserved seating at first, but now that I’ve gotten used to it, it certainly has its perks. The friendly maids bring me pretty much anything I ask for free of charge, and it makes me feel kinda like a celebrity.

  As I’m basking in the stadium’s energy, Princess Iris makes her appearance.

  “Good morning.”

  “Morning.”

  “Is that coffee I see? It’s been trendy lately. I enjoy the smell, but the bitterness is a bit much for me…”

  “You could always just make it into coffee milk with loads of sugar.”

  “Coffee milk…?”

  Iris calls over one of the maids and orders one. She really is a woman of action.

  “Oh, this is nice…”

  “Right? It’s like a magic trick you can use to make every cup of coffee taste the same.”

  I follow her lead and order myself a fine banquet of toast and eggs.

  If only this world had social media. The only way to make this meal better would be if I could upload a smug selfie with the caption “Eating breakfast in the deluxe suite with royalty!”

  I finish eating right as various socialites begin trickling in.

  As the name would suggest, their advent brings with it the beginning of the socializing. Being the lowly son of a baron, I am completely left out of the conversation. It’s fine, though—I’d just as soon stay out. So please, Princess Iris, stop trying to be nice enough to include me.

  Things end up getting kind of awkward, but eventually, the second round of the primaries gets underway.

  The socialites take their seats, but right as things start settling down, the door opens up.

  I turn around and see a woman in a faded robe.

  It conceals her face like it did before, but I can tell it’s Beatrix.

  She notices me and gives me a little wave, and I reply with a nod and a smile. We meet again.

  However, the rest of the socialites’ gazes are cold.

  I can practically hear them all thinking. Who is this woman wearing a filthy robe? Remove her at once! The silence is stifling.

  “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but you can’t…” One of the maids calls out to her but gets interrupted.

  “It’s fine. She’s with me. Please come on in,” beckons Iris as she invites Beatrix in.

  Beatrix comes and sits two seats down from me. Iris is between us. Apparently, that was going to be Alexia’s seat, if she was here.

  “Princess Iris, who is she?”

  “Beatrix the War Goddess.”

  Iris’s answer sends a stir through the socialites.

  “Is she really…?”

  “She said she’s the War Goddess…”

  “The legendary swordmaster…”

  Hey, this is cool! I wanna hear someone say That’s the legendary Shadow… at some point!

  “It’s been a while since you appeared in public.”

  “It has. I’m looking for someone.” Beatrix nods as she answers the socialite’s question. “My niece. She looks just like me.”

  Making sure not to repeat the mistake she made with me, she takes off her hood.

  “Damn, you’re fine…”

  “Do any of you recognize my face? I heard this country had sightings of an elf bearing my visage.”

  “In this country, huh…? If I saw an elf as fair as you, Beatrix, I’d never forget it.”

  “Have any of you seen her?”

  “Sorry…”

  The socialites all shake their heads.

  “I see…” Disappointed, she puts her hood back up.

  Iris apologizes to her. “I’m so sorry. Everyone here is well connected, so I thought you might have some luck asking them.”

  “It’s fine. I’m an elf, so I have time.”

  “By the way, did you watch any of the Bushin Festival?”

  “Not much.”

  “Oh. Well, based on what you’ve seen, did any of the contestants catch your interest?”

  “My interest… Hmm…” She glances around as she thinks. “Cid.”

  She points at me.

  “Um, Beatrix…?”

  “Cid caught my interest. Someday, he’ll be strong.”

  I instantly deny it. “Oh, no, I definitely won’t.”

  I can feel everyone staring at me.

  “That boy’s going to become strong…?”

  “It’s true he was in the same class as me, but his fundamentals were kinda…eh…”

  “He is Claire’s little brother, but he doesn’t take to it the way she does…”

  Finally, Iris cuts through the strained atmosphere, and that’s the end of that. “If that’s what you think, Beatrix, then I’m certain you’re right.”

  Still, though, the socialites eye Beatrix skeptically.

  I can see them glancing at one another, as though asking themselves, Is she the real deal…?

  To them, she probably just looks like a dirty wanderer.

  The way I see it, though, she carries herself naturally in the best sense of the word.

  Her form, her personality, her bearing, and her strength as a whole are all so unembellished that nobody realizes her real power.

  “Now, would you mind if I was forward enough to ask you to point out anything interesting you notice during the matches?”

  “Okay.”

  Thanks to Iris’s deference, though, it starts to feel like Beatrix is getting a bit of respect.

  The air is still a little strained as the second round of the Bushin Festival primaries begins.

  When Perv walks into the deluxe suite, a figure in a gray robe turns and stares at him.

  The person’s face is hidden beneath a hood, but given the build, he can tell it’s probably a woman. After looking at Perv, she turns her gaze to King Oriana, who’s standing beside him.

  Her assessment is brief.

  “It stinks.”

  “That’s pretty rude, lady.”

  “Sorry.”

  Perv suppresses his beating heart as he glares at the woman.

  He’s using a highly addictive herb to make a puppet of King Oriana. He has no complaints about the drug’s effectiveness, but it has the downside of causing its users to exude a characteristic aroma.

  However, he’s masking the smell with perfume. There’s no way anyone has found him out.

  “Perv, this is Beatrix the War Goddess.”

  “She’s…”

  Beatrix the War Goddess. Perv heard she’d made her way to the capital, but here she is in the flesh.

  She certainly doesn’t look talented enough to merit the title of War Goddess.

  Her robe is faded, and her manners are nonexistent. After a single word of apology, she’s already back to watching the match.

  But even though she doesn’t look strong…if she’s as talented as the rumors say, there’s a chance he just can’t perceive her strength. Given that Princess Iris acknowledges her as the real thing, he should assume she’s right.

  He knows that the War Goddess’s face looks reminiscent of the great hero Olivier’s. If he could just get a good look…

  “It seems I was being quite offensive without realizing it.”

  “Me, too.”

  Perv and Beatrix both apologize, and things settle down a bit. Now everyone will think Beatrix’s verbal gaffe had been a reference to Perv himself.

  Perv desperately wants to get off the topic of the smell.

  He never imagined Beatrix would show up at the Bushin Festival, though.
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  And today of all days…

  He quietly clicks his tongue.

  “King Midgar, I trust you’re well today?”

  “Oh, very.”

  Perv changes his tone and offers salutations to King Midgar, who’s sitting atop a large throne placed among the deluxe suite’s seats.

  After exchanging a set of standard greetings, King Oriana sits down beside King Midgar. Perv takes the next seat down and turns his attention to covering King Oriana’s conversational back.

  The king can answer simple questions, but anything more complex will give him trouble. Perv has no choice but to guide the conversation and prevent King Oriana from screwing up.

  That said, everything has gone according to plan so far.

  His primary objective is securing Rose.

  During their last encounter, she was already starting to show symptoms. Her blood would undoubtedly prove a valuable asset to the Cult.

  In order to ensure he gets her, he made a point of properly incentivizing her.

  Specifically, he threatened to have King Oriana kill King Midgar if Rose doesn’t show up at the Bushin Festival.

  It was just a threat, of course, but Perv wouldn’t particularly mind following through with it.

  King Midgar’s death would incite a war, and the Oriana Kingdom would be finished. However, they already had plans underway to install a puppet leader in Midgar afterward. If all went well, everything would fall into his lap. There was a risk of abject failure, sure, but the potential rewards were worth it.

  The only thing that made him feel uneasy was the fact that Iris was there. Perv could see she distrusted the hollow King Oriana. There was a chance she’d be able to stop him.

  However, he could easily remove that threat by simply conducting the assassination during Iris’s match. There shouldn’t have been any additional impediments.

  But now Beatrix is here. Getting rid of her will be tough, and she’s probably even stronger than Iris. If Beatrix tries to stop him, she’ll be a greater obstacle than Iris.

  Also, he still doesn’t know what Mundane is after. Mundane is undoubtedly a denizen of the underworld, meaning he must have some objective. No matter how hard Perv searches, though, he keeps coming up blank. This guy’s a pro. Perv needs to be on high alert.

  He lets out a heavy sigh.

  Everything’s going according to plan, but there are too many variables. He doesn’t feel remotely at ease.

  Still, if Rose just shows up, everything’s golden. He won’t need to take any risks.

  And she’s sure to. She can’t just abandon her homeland and her father. Perv knows her well enough to be certain of that.

  True, there are a bunch of variables, but none of them matter. Everything’s going to be fine.

  Perv keeps telling himself that as he shifts his focus to the match.

  Time passes, and Claire Kagenou wins her bout handily.

  “Oh-ho…”

  He hadn’t taken much notice of her before, but it turns out she’s unexpectedly skilled. Her magic is powerful, yet she doesn’t let it control her.

  As strong as she is now, she has the potential to become even stronger.

  “It would seem…that Claire’s gotten better.” After watching Claire take down her opponent, Iris stands from her seat. “My match is starting, so I’m afraid I must be off.”

  Everyone around her offers words of encouragement, and the dark-haired boy sitting next to her stands as well.

  “I gotta hit the can.”

  Nobody much cares about his comings and goings. Well, nobody except Beatrix, who watches as he leaves.

  His name is Cid, and he’s utterly unremarkable. Perv was a little curious how he ended up sitting next to the princess, but other than that, he doesn’t see much reason to care. He immediately forgets about Cid and turns his attention to the next round.

  Iris and Mundane’s bout is a very important one for Perv.

  He needs to figure out Mundane’s strength and agenda as well as take advantage of the opportunity Iris’s absence poses.

  After the two of them leave, a little time passes…and Iris and Mundane take the stage.

  When Iris arrives on the field, she’s greeted with a thunderous round of applause.

  Her popularity makes it abundantly clear which one of the pair is the tournament’s protagonist.

  She stares at Mundane and composes herself.

  Mundane Mann is obviously going to be a fierce opponent. Even now that she’s standing across from him, she can’t get a read on his strength but senses something unfathomable lurking within him. His appearance is out of sync with his actual ability. It makes him seem irregular, like he’s hiding his true nature.

  However, Iris still is confident she can prevail. She has no other choice.

  She believes it’s her duty to win the Bushin Festival.

  She isn’t skilled at politics, and she herself knows that. The only thing she can do for Midgar is act as a symbol of its strength.

  It’s her duty to instill faith in people that as long as Iris Midgar is around, the kingdom will be safe.

  Even if that means letting herself be carried on the shoulders of others. She’s at peace with that. Her strength is her only asset, and she was content letting herself be used as a political pawn.

  Until recently, that is.

  That was a price she paid for being carried by others for so long: She stumbled the first time she tried to stand on her own two feet. Fearing for her country’s future, she’d tried to assemble the Crimson Order but found herself powerless, unable to secure personnel or funds.

  If she tried gathering members gradually, it would take ages before the Crimson Order lived up to her expectations.

  Even if she attempted to involve herself in politics, people would still just treat her with superficial respect while using her for their own ends. That’s why she’s opted to leave the politics to others and gather strength in areas in which she’s more skilled.

  For example, she knows that popularity among the masses is a strength in and of itself. She’s also gathered allies she trusts to be the brains behind her Order. All that’s left to do is win the Bushin Festival and solidify the people’s love for her, and she’s sure things will turn out well.

  With that belief firm in her heart, she readies her sword and waits for the announcer.

  Her condolences to Mundane, but she plans on going all out from the get-go. Even if he does have something up his sleeve, she intends to end the match before he has time to pull it out.

  “Iris Midgar versus Mundane Mann!! Ready? Begin!!”

  She wastes no time.

  As soon as the match starts, she steps forward, then stops.

  “…What?”

  A tiny cry of confusion slips from her lips.

  For some reason, Mundane seems farther away than he did before.

  Has she misjudged the distance between them?

  That’s her first thought, but she knows she didn’t. Still, it feels like the gap between them has widened.

  She doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s just nerves.

  Whatever the cause of her confusion, though, it definitely stops her.

  She tries starting over.

  She resets her emotions, readies her sword, and goes for a simple feint.

  When she’s sure she’s drawn Mundane’s gaze, she rushes him.

  However…

  “…?!”

  Once again, she stops in her tracks.

  She leans backward as though dodging something, then leaps back.

  She had seen a sword.

  She had seen Mundane’s sword severing her neck.

  However, Mundane’s actual sword hadn’t moved an inch.

  And of course, her neck was still attached to her shoulders.

  “Why…?” Iris can’t keep the question inside.

  She’s sure she saw Mundane’s blade.

  The moment she advanced, she saw his sword and the colossal power
lurking within it cutting her throat.

  She thought he’d read her like a book. And she’d seen her own defeat…no, her death.

  However, Mundane is still just standing there. His sword isn’t even at the ready. It’s as though it had all been just an illusion.

  She can’t comprehend what just happened.

  Iris slowly paces around him, trying to figure out what’s up with his sword.

  One lap, two laps, three laps…

  They’re the exact same distance from each other as before. So why does Mundane look so far away?

  “…Aren’t you coming?” Mundane asks.

  Yet she can’t take that step.

  Every bone in her body is screaming for her not to go.

  “Hrrraaaaahhhhhhh!!”

  She roars in an attempt to dispel her hesitation.

  After rocking back and forth, she puts one foot forward. It’s the fastest step she’s ever taken.

  But—he’s looking at her!!

  Unblinking, Mundane’s eyes are trained on her.

  His gaze shifts, as though implying something.

  “…Aahhhhhhh!!”

  The moment it does, Iris’s instincts force her to stop.

  Doing so places a massive strain on her body, and her knee joints make an unpleasant noise.

  She stops in spite of that, then practically tumbles backward.

  She’s certain she just saw Mundane’s sword running her through.

  “No…”

  However, her chest doesn’t have a scratch.

  There’s no sign Mundane’s weapon ever moved.

  “You’re kidding…”

  He’s still just standing there, not even bothering to put up a defense.

  “…What’s wrong?” he asks.

  Faced with something unknowable, Iris’s body shudders.

  She has to do something.

  Unease and fear swirl up inside her.

  Mundane’s gaze shifts again.

  As he stares straight ahead, the tip of his sword twitches as though he’s predicting the future.

  The moment it does, Iris envisions her arm getting lopped off.

  “Oh no…”

  Now she finally realizes.

  Mundane had simply been making feints.

  He understood her movements in their entirety, then used his eyes and minute movements of the tip of his sword to send her a warning.