◆ That Which Is Bestowed by the Gods
At the church, I was to undergo the ritual—the confirmation of my latent magical power and technique.
Upon reaching the age of ten, the divine gifts bestowed by the gods would settle within one’s being. Thus, it was decreed that all children must present themselves at the temple on their tenth birthday. It was not merely tradition—it was law, enshrined within the legal code of the kingdom. Every citizen, without exception, was required to undergo this confirmation.
This much had been taught to us in the learning halls of the town.
Our teacher was an aged scholar, a man who once taught in the royal capital—a fact he took great pride in. Perhaps he had his reasons for leaving that place. Regardless, he was a man of great knowledge, and he took it upon himself to educate the sons and daughters of the town’s influential families, as well as those of knightly houses such as mine.
His specialty, as it happened, was royal law.
Thus, it was not uncommon for him to conduct entire lessons while clutching the thick, heavy codex of the kingdom’s laws, imparting to us its many decrees.
And among them was the very rite I was about to undergo—the confirmation of one’s magical power and technique at the temple.
“Proof of the kingdom’s insatiable thirst for talent,” the old man once laughed.
The ritual was conducted with the utmost solemnity.
At the temple, a row of children awaited their turn, each having reached their tenth year.
The priest raised an eyebrow upon seeing me arrive alone, but no special treatment was given. I was herded into line alongside the others, awaiting my turn.
Though I was of a knightly house, as the third son, I was granted no distinction.
No one held any great expectations for me—nor did I expect anything for myself.
If I received “Arithmetic” or “Endurance” as my technique, I would consider myself fortunate. There was, after all, the distinct possibility that I would receive nothing at all.
“If I turn out to be like my brothers… that would be nice.”
The temple hall was vast, far larger than one might expect for a place in the frontier. The air was heavy with the weight of long, droning prayers, recited in solemn voices.
One by one, the children stepped forward. Before them stood a great crystal orb, its surface gleaming with an ethereal light. A stern-faced priest presided over the ritual, overseeing the process.
One after another, the children placed their hands upon the orb, awaiting their verdict.
I stood at the very end of the line.
The ceremony neared its conclusion.
At last, my turn came. I stepped forward, placing my hand upon the great crystal orb, staring into its depths.
――― And I was stunned. Truly, deeply stunned.
What the gods had bestowed upon me was unfathomable.
I possessed magical power equivalent to that of an earl—an amount far beyond what was normal for a knightly house.
And my technique…
I had been granted both the “Artisan’s Craft” and the “Warrior’s Skill.”
The priest frowned, tilting his head in confusion.
Such a combination was rare, almost unheard of.
“Your family will be formally informed of the results,” the priest declared.
It was only natural. A ten-year-old child would not be expected to comprehend the full implications of such a revelation—especially one who had attended alone.
That evening, at supper, I relayed the results to my family.
My father’s expression wavered—an uncommon sight.
It was an impossible revelation, and my mother, too, exchanged uncertain glances with him.
For a time, there was only silence.
My brothers, however, rejoiced. Their excitement was evident as they offered their congratulations.
Those with great magical power were required to undergo specialized training to learn how to wield it.
For my father and brothers, whose magical power was that of an ordinary knight, the news was difficult to comprehend.
Even tracing back several generations, our lineage had never produced anyone with such extraordinary power.
And yet, our house had distant noble blood—the so-called “Blue Blood” that had, in times long past, been tied to aristocracy.
Perhaps, buried deep within our lineage, the blood of the nobles had awakened once more.
At last, my father spoke.
“This is unprecedented for a knightly house… but as one who serves the kingdom and its people, you must learn to control this power.”
“Yes, Father. I will devote myself to my studies.”
As the third son, with two exceptional elder brothers, our household had the means to send me to study magic in the royal capital.
The Royal Academy of Magic was an institution founded to train those with exceptional magical power—from the sons and daughters of earls to even the royal family itself.
In rare cases, lesser nobles who possessed sufficient magical potential were permitted to enroll.
However, the strict social hierarchy of the academy demanded that all students possess proper courtly education and etiquette.
But that was of no concern to me.
I had no complaints. I enjoyed learning.
And so long as time allowed, I would study all that I could.
My brothers were thrilled at the news.
“Our little brother is amazing,” they said.
“He possesses something we do not.”
There was no jealousy in their words—only genuine joy.
It was a moment I would never forget.
For the first time, I felt something deep within me—a desire.
I wanted to become someone worthy of my brothers’ pride.
Something I had never possessed in my past life—a purpose.
Thus, I swore upon my heart—I would devote myself to my studies.
At age twelve, I would enroll in the Royal Academy of Magic.
However, before I could do so, there was one final requirement.
Due to the presence of high-ranking nobles within the academy, it was tradition that all students enter the academy already engaged to a future spouse.
The reason was simple—the study of magic required emotional stability.
Regardless of gender, a magician’s control over their power was heavily influenced by their mental state.
Thus, to prevent unnecessary distractions, all students were required to form an engagement contract before enrollment.
It was a system designed to ensure both political stability and social order.
And so, I, too, was required to find a suitable match.
However, due to my unique circumstances, finding a fiancée proved extremely difficult.
- I was of a knightly house, yet I possessed magic comparable to an earl.
- I held no noble title nor a clear path for the future.
- I would study in the royal capital, but beyond that, my fate was uncertain.
Even our territorial lord, the Earl, was at a loss. He consulted his superior—the Marquis, our highest-ranking patron—but still, no suitable match was found.
At last, after much deliberation, a decision was made.
I was to be engaged to a woman of “unusual circumstances.”
She was the fourth daughter of a Viscount—a family of modest rank.
Yet, like me, she possessed the magical power of an earl.
Her birth, however, was shrouded in scandal.
Her mother—a concubine of the Viscount—was a baron’s daughter, disowned by her own family.
Her reputation was notorious.
She had been a “Butterfly of the Night”—a woman known for her reckless passions.
And so, the Marquis, our patron, had devised a solution.
Two troublesome individuals.
One engagement.
Thus, our fates were sealed.
A match born not of love, but of necessity.