Episode 27. The End of the Exam
Nunnaeril Dalhaim laughed coldly upon hearing those words.
“What on earth are you talking about? To think I would try to kill my beloved, my one and only brother. Others would surely misunderstand if they heard that.”
Binaeril knew it was not a misunderstanding.
Because his older brother, Nunnaeril Dalhaim, had tried to kill him before.
Observing Binaeril’s expression as though he had chewed a bug, Nunnaeril lowered himself and met his gaze at eye level.
Then, feigning the role of a benevolent older brother, he put on a gentle face.
“My brother. Binaeril. I know what feelings you hold toward me. There are far too many misunderstandings between us. You too will understand someday. I have never once hated you.”
“What misunderstanding are you talking about?”
Binaeril knew in his head that the opponent before his eyes was not his real brother.
His brother was in the Vitori Holy State right now. Appointed as the Blade of the Order, his brother would be so busy that finding time would be difficult.
And decisively, he was not someone who would rush a long distance without hesitation just to see his younger brother.
At least, not unless Binaeril was designated as his enemy.
Once he knew the opponent was not his real brother, confidence welled up in Binaeril as well.
He had secured enough confidence to nitpick his words and sneer.
He had never done such a thing to his brother in reality.
“That you believed in heretical doctrine? Or that when the Order’s soldiers came, you had hidden the heretical scriptures under my bed?”
Nunnaeril Dalhaim’s face stiffened at the unexpected retort.
“If not that, then because of those scriptures, Mother took the fall for everything and was put on trial? Why don’t you try explaining yourself in front of Mother’s pyre back in our hometown. Just which of the things I said is a misunderstanding?”
Nunnaeril withdrew his smile now. The gentle expression from before had vanished without a trace.
“I wonder when my little brother grew up so much.”
It was a manner of speaking unique to Nunnaeril, rebuking an impudent younger brother who talked back.
That was how it sounded to Binaeril.
Nunnaeril, with his authoritative personality, had never once overlooked his younger brother’s defiance. Not once.
Binaeril strove not to waver even under his brother’s gaze.
Because from long ago, his brother’s name had been synonymous with the word “sworn enemy.”
“I heard belatedly that you went to Elfenbein.”
He changed the subject without paying any heed to Binaeril’s sneer.
It was an attitude that whatever deep-seated emotions Binaeril harbored—what he called a “misunderstanding”—did not matter to him in the least.
“Elfenbein, you say? The Kingdom of Ruben and House Dalhaim have long toiled for the Order. And yet the Magic Tower?”
His brother prodded at Binaeril’s heart in a familiar manner.
Just as he always had, it was a tone that treated Binaeril like a childish boy.
Whenever he heard such talk, Binaeril would be seized by the thought that he had gone terribly astray.
“Do not disgrace the name of the family and your brother. Either grow up obediently and devote yourself to the Order, or quietly hole up in the family estate. Why do you choose to do such useless things?”
Magicians were not always revered everywhere on the continent.
In regions managed by the Order, where the Order’s influence was strong, those who followed magic were often treated as heretics.
His homeland, the Kingdom of Ruben, was one such country.
“I have accomplished everything within the Order. People did not hesitate to attach the title Knight of Salvation before my name. In contrast, what are you doing? If you reflect on the past, you should at least not block the Order’s path.”
His brother called Binaeril’s name as though calling a servant.
The brother he remembered had always pronounced Binaeril’s name in that way.
“What should I reflect on?”
Binaeril asked.
“What should you reflect on? Shifting your faults onto your brother. That attitude of acting as though you are in no way at fault for Mother’s death.”
“Mother died because of me?”
“Yes. Mother took all the blame to protect you. If that is not your fault, then whose is it?”
“That was your fault. You took the Order’s forbidden tome….”
“Enough! In any case, the forbidden tome was found beneath the bed in your room. You were the heretic. Not I. Do you have any proof that I put it there?”
In his childhood, Binaeril had witnessed his brother meeting with strange people several times.
It was Binaeril who had turned a blind eye to it. It was not that his brother had turned a blind eye to Binaeril’s faults.
With resolute eyes and tone, Nunnaeril dismissed Binaeril’s rebuttal.
“Mother died because of you. You must pay for your sins. You should not resent me.”
In a familiar attitude, Nunnaeril condemned Binaeril.
Binaeril knew clearly. It was his brother’s fault—his brother had killed Mother!
But those words always failed to pass his throat, caught by a deep sense of guilt that gripped his heart.
At times, familiar words leave deeper wounds precisely because they are familiar.
In a space where no one defended Binaeril, where only he and his brother existed, Binaeril could never defeat his brother.
Just as his heart was gradually breaking, a voice spoke from within.
—Worth watching. Worth watching.
‘Veritas?’
It was the voice of the Book of Truth.
—You fool. What do you think you’re doing, losing to the logic of a mere illusion? That’s not even logic. It’s just sophistry.
‘But.’
—No buts. Lift your head. Look at that self-satisfied expression on his face.
Binaeril observed his brother’s expression. Just as Veritas said, he was wearing a twisted smile.
—Didn’t you become a mage because you wanted to land one good punch on that face?
—Watch closely.
Veritas appeared in human form.
It was the first time it had revealed this form outside the corridor of the Grand Library.
“Does this still look real to you?”
He extended his arm and split Nunnaeril’s face clean in half.
Veritas’s arm pierced through Nunnaeril’s face and jutted out the other side.
Like smoke without substance.
“You aren’t losing to your brother. You’re being persuaded by him inside your memories. How do you intend to defeat your brother with such a soft state of mind?”
Veritas waved his arm about, scattering Nunnaeril’s form.
Nunnaeril, dispersed like fog, soon regained his original form.
“Weakling Binaeril. Watch closely. I shall drive away your phantom.”
Veritas’s collar began to flutter.
As he raised his magic power, the surroundings began to distort as though they were standing in the eye of a typhoon.
—This brat is my host. Only I am permitted to taint his spirit. Who dares defy the words of the Book of Truth!
Magic power was imbued in Veritas’s words. They were directed at Nunnaeril’s illusion, yet at the same time, they were also meant for the weak Binaeril.
—Chest out, boy. You are the master of the Book of Truth. Unless I permit it, you cannot be broken by anyone.
At a glance, it was a solemn declaration. At the same time, it was also Veritas’s unique way of acknowledging Binaeril as his master and partner.
The Nunnaeril before his eyes was an enemy without substance. Naturally, it could not be affected at all.
But Binaeril steeled his heart. What kind of human Nunnaeril Dalhaim was no longer mattered.
What mattered was what kind of person Binaeril Dalhaim had to be.
“Hup.”
Binaeril took a deep breath. He inhaled until his belly swelled and shouted.
“Get lost, phantom. Wait in your temple. Binaeril Dalhaim will come to find you and take his revenge.”
The Blade of the Order, Knight of Salvation Nunnaeril Dalhaim, his own brother—
was his enemy.
The third and final test of Scala was a trial that tempered the candidates’ minds.
The first test was for the composure of a mage, the second for the power to handle magic itself, and the last for an unbreakable will.
Through three temperings, a mere student of Elfenbein was finally refined into a mage.
Sylvia and Rike were also facing their respective pasts.
“Violet, I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.”
Sylvia was kneeling before a small girl who only came up to her waist.
“But I can’t live in mourning forever. I have to protect the Princess.”
Sylvia tried to place her hand over her younger sister’s.
The two hands cut through empty air in vain.
She remembered the sensation, that bone-chilling cold, when she had last held her sister’s hand.
With moist eyes, Sylvia remained kneeling and embraced the body of her still young sister.
Though she could touch nothing, it felt as though her sister from the past was comforting her.
Had her sister been alive, she would have likely said this:
“Sister, I’m sorry. And thank you.”
That was how Sylvia passed the final test.
Friederike Albrecht, the Second Princess of the Empire, likewise realized that all of this was happening within a dream or illusion.
Because the person before her eyes, her older sister, was someone who would never blame her younger sister no matter what happened.
“You dumped all your burdens on me and ran away. I hate you, Rike.”
Rike quietly shook her head.
“Charlotte would never think that. Even if I hate myself for the same reason, she is someone who would comfort me.”
While the three overcame, bid farewell to, and denied their pasts, all of Scala’s prepared trials came to an end.
Before they knew it, they opened their eyes to a familiar place.
They were standing in Elfenbein.
“This year’s successful candidates amount to only three.”
In the auditorium, the supervising professors including Dean Yulio were seated.
Binaeril, Rike, and Sylvia received the professors’ attention in a dazed state.
Looking around, the other candidates who had entered Scala together were standing back around the edges of the auditorium.
Some students were receiving treatment, some were clutching their heads as though suffering from trauma, and yet another had collapsed foaming at the mouth.
“Is it over?”
The first to grasp the situation was Binaeril.
Angelo Yulio, the head supervisor of the exam, looked at him and nodded.
“Congratulations. The three of you have passed Elfenbein’s Scala.”
Another staff member came forward holding a golden badge proving one a formal mage.
An olive branch and a hazelnut—the symbols of Elfenbein.
“From today, you have passed all of Elfenbein’s curriculum and become formal mages guaranteed by the Magic Tower. After a one-week waiting period, you will be formally dispatched.”
Dean Yulio was the first to start clapping.
The other professors also offered their applause to the successful candidates of the exam.
Dean Angelo Yulio, Professor Pierre Blansho, Aviya Flinn, and Professor Freud Young were seated over on that side.
He too was clapping half-heartedly. To Binaeril, seeing his displeased expression was quite enjoyable.
The three joined hands with one another.
Both Rike and Sylvia let out sighs of relief, their faces flushed with the sense of accomplishment of having done it.
“Good work, newly appointed mages.”
Binaeril put on a roguish smile and made a gentlemanly bow, miming the removal of his hat.
The two girls matched him, lightly bowing their heads and then meeting his gaze.
And so the three of them smiled.