WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Ceaseless
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ The Northern Grand Duke’s Mad Son-in-Law ◈
Chapter 21: School Ties
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“I’ve made up my mind!”
Galahad frowned at Gwen’s sudden shout.
“Private! Tom!”
“It’s nothing. Go back to sleep.”
“Yes! Understood!”
Tom immediately fell back into a deep sleep. Gwen grabbed and shook him, apologizing for waking him.
‘...That’s vicious.’
Galahad chuckled softly.
“What exactly have you decided?”
“I’m going to become a really powerful mage.”
Gwen learning magic was good news. That was why Galahad had brought her into the Special Operations Unit.
But...
“Becoming a really powerful mage is a rather vague goal. It’s better to have a clear goal.”
“...Huh? Is it?”
“Start by setting a specific goal.”
After blinking a few times, Gwen suddenly pointed.
Galahad frowned at the callused finger aimed at him.
“You want to become like me?”
“Yes! I want to become a powerful mage like you, Galahad!”
Gwen’s answer rang out loudly. Tom shot upright, then sat back down.
“That’s impossible.”
“Why?!”
“It’s a difference in temperament. I prefer fast, efficient methods. Clean methods, like blowing someone’s head apart or punching a hole through their heart.”
“C-Clean methods?”
Gwen’s eyes widened.
“You’re too kind-hearted for that.”
“Th... thank you?”
“That wasn’t a compliment. It means you can’t become an efficient mage like me. Can you punch a hole through someone’s head?”
“Nooo!”
“I thought so. Since you’re soft-hearted, you’ll have to use huge spells to erase your opponents so completely that nothing remains.”
“...Whaaat?! Erase them?!”
Having apparently given up on sleep, Tom pulled over the leather he had set beside him. He began stitching it together with thick thread. It looked like he was making a coat.
“Remember this. To protect someone, you must kill someone else.”
Galahad spoke without a trace of amusement.
Tom nodded as the coat began taking shape.
Damian got up then. Tom offered Damian the meat he had set aside, and Damian began eating again.
“...I know that too.”
Gwen lowered her head. Galahad didn’t press her.
He cracked open the small smoking vent beside him, made at Tom’s suggestion. Chilly dawn air carrying a faint trace of moisture drifted in.
The view beyond remained the same. Long, dried-out trees, with white snow between them...
‘So boring I could die.’
Galahad grumbled under his breath.
“...Then! I’ll become a mage who turns only bad people into mush!”
“Mush? You have a cruel side beneath that innocent appearance.”
“What?! No...”
“So that’s why you want to learn magic?”
“Yes!”
Gwen nodded eagerly, like a squire beside a knight.
“You have remarkable talent as a mage. With that enormous mana reservoir and outstanding Mana Sensitivity, you could easily be called a genius.”
“Hehe.”
Gwen scratched the back of her head and smiled shyly. Praise seemed to be her weakness.
“Let’s start with something simple. This is just fire. It’s an extremely simple first-tier spell. Follow me.”
Gwen’s eyes went slightly unfocused. Then fire rose from her fingertip exactly as it had from his.
‘Impressive.’
Galahad was genuinely amazed. Copying a spell just from seeing it wasn’t easy.
‘She really is a genius.’
Other than that person from the Twilight Magic Tower, Gwen was the first genius Galahad had acknowledged.
“Now, focus on the fire. Imagine pressing down on it and compress the mana.”
“Compress it?”
“Think of it as pressing down hard.”
Gwen’s eyes widened. She concentrated so hard that her finger trembled, yet astonishingly, nothing happened.
“I don’t really get it.”
“Think of pressing down hard. Imagine there’s an invisible muscle, and you’re pulling it.”
“I don’t have invisible muscles, so I don’t get it!”
“...If you really can’t do it, try bending your finger first.”
Galahad loathed using physical movements to compress mana, but Gwen had no grasp of it at all, so he had no choice.
The problem was that even that didn’t work.
Once someone cast a spell, they couldn’t help but sense mana. Once they could sense mana, most people quickly understood the principle of compression.
Yet she couldn’t do even that basic thing...
‘Ah.’
Galahad let out a quiet sigh at Gwen’s innocent eyes.
“There’s one problem.”
“A problem?”
“You’re stupid.”
“...What?”
“You’re stupid.”
“I know!”
Gwen nodded. She accepted it quickly.
“So is that a problem?”
At the question of how being stupid could possibly be a problem, Galahad shook his head. It wasn’t particularly a problem.
“I see. You don’t need to pursue the truth of magic. Just watch my spells and copy them.”
“Ah! Yes! That’s a relief!”
Galahad lit the fire again. Fire rose over Gwen’s fingertip as well.
“This time, do it by yourself.”
Gwen looked down at her finger. Her brows furrowed as she concentrated, but sadly, there was no reaction.
“Didn’t you do it just fine on your own when the Demonkin came?”
“I was in a hurry then... I don’t know how to do it now.”
He could guess the cause. It seemed to be an unconscious resistance to magic.
The solution was simple.
Repeated practice.
There was no problem it couldn’t solve.
“Now, concentrate.”
Fire burned on Galahad’s finger. Fire appeared on Gwen’s finger as well. Galahad’s flame shrank, and Gwen’s followed suit.
“Good. Now again...”
The fire appeared. It shrank, then grew. It went out.
“You did well again. Now, again...”
“Again...”
“Again.”
Even after repeating it many times, Gwen followed along without complaint.
How many times had they repeated it?
By the time Tom finished the coat and Damian patted their stomach before closing their eyes again...
“Burn! Fire! It’s... it worked!! I did it!”
Fire flared up on Gwen’s fingertip.
‘It takes about forty repetitions to get it to stick.’
Compared to learning mana, memorizing the principles and spell formulas, analyzing mana concentration, and only then using magic...
‘It’s overwhelmingly faster.’
There was no comparison.
“Good.”
A strange smile spread across Gwen’s face.
It was the expression of a gambler’s child who had spent their entire life suffering from their parents’ gambling, only to discover they had a natural talent for it themselves.
“It’s fine. You can win back even what your parents lost.”
“...What?”
“Now, let’s move on to the fourth-tier spell, Explosive Fireball.”
“That was first-tier just now! Aren’t we jumping too far ahead?!”
“It’s fine. You can’t understand the principles anyway. You’re better off learning higher-tier spells.”
After thinking for a moment, Gwen nodded.
Gilbert looked at Damian, who had come up to the driver’s seat.
The two traveled in silence for a long time.
* * *
“Each battalion on the northern front has its own base.”
Gilbert pointed ahead. Soldiers stood in small groups around fires. It looked like a checkpoint.
“Like nobles.”
“Yes, something like that. Their authority is probably stronger than that of nobles. They are the military, after all.”
“So there’s a reason they call it a duchy.”
White snow had piled on his shoulders. Galahad muttered quietly as he brushed it away. He hadn’t expected this much snow in the north.
“Halt!”
A soldier shouted at them. The others drew their spears.
“The Fifth Battalion commander is somewhat isolated from the other commanders.”
“Are they excluding him?”
“Yes. He’s always done things differently, but rumors that he’s raising mages have led to more ostracism recently.”
The soldiers approached until they were right in front of them.
The spearheads they carried were unusually large, shaped like harpoons used to hunt whales.
“State your affiliation.”
The soldier held the spear toward Galahad as though it were a microphone.
“I’m Galahad, commander of the Special Operations Unit.”
The soldier furrowed his thick brows.
“Special Operations Unit? Have you heard of it?”
“No, I’ve never heard of it.”
The conversation was heading in an unexpected direction.
“Show us your identification tag.”
At the question, Galahad looked at Gilbert. He had never received any identification tag.
“Identification tags are made from Monster bones, so they take time to produce.”
It wasn’t hard to understand. Even the capital handled work slowly. The north would be even worse.
“Show them your identification tag first. You still have your First Battalion tag, don’t you?”
“I don’t.”
“Why not? You were in the First Battalion until recently.”
“Because I’m not in the First Battalion anymore.”
“You’re more honest than I expected. What were you going to do if you got inspected?”
“The First Battalion doesn’t get inspected.”
“You’re not in the First Battalion now.”
“Identification tag!”
The soldier shouted. Galahad clicked his tongue and searched through his inner pocket.
“Here. This is His Grace the Grand Duke’s letter of appointment.”
He took out the letter of appointment. It had worked even at the commanders’ meeting.
The problem was...
“I can’t read!”
“Me neither!”
“Showing us writing is suspicious!”
The soldiers were illiterate.
The mood turned hostile in an instant, all because he had shown them writing. How did they read identification tags, then?
Gilbert gripped the hilt of his sword.
“We can beat them up and go in. Don’t you already have an appointment with the commander?”
Just as Gilbert proposed a northern-style negotiation, the carriage door flew open.
“Ah, I made a temporary identification tag, just in case.”
Tom held out a rough wooden tag. Once the soldiers checked it, they let them pass. They seemed to only inspect the markings on the tag.
“Tom, you’re truly competent.”
“Haha, I’m honored just to hear you say that.”
Tom gave an awkward smile as he put away the wooden tag. Galahad stared at Gilbert at the humble display.
“Why are you looking at me?”
“...Nothing.”
At Gilbert’s gruff question, Galahad quietly looked away.
The Fifth Battalion base was larger than he expected. Long palisades made from thick logs had been erected, while sharp wooden barricades lined the paths between them.
Unidentifiable chunks of rotting flesh clung to the barricades. Snow had gathered over them, giving the place a strange sort of charm.
The palisades were thicker and taller than they had looked from afar. They were imposing enough to feel like castle walls. Crossbows stood between them as well.
A damp smell greeted them once they entered.
‘This really is a military base.’
Galahad put a cigarette in his mouth. Its lemon scent drove away the damp smell.
“The unit is in better shape than I expected.”
“That’s good?”
“Yes. The soldiers are in decent health, and their equipment is good as well. The Fifth Battalion must have better finances than expected.”
Now that he heard that, Galahad saw the subtle difference from the command headquarters. The soldiers were clean, at least by northern standards.
There were also quite a few people dressed in Imperial clothing. Some looked like merchants, while soldiers tended to carts.
‘It feels like a border between the Empire and the north.’
In some ways, it was livelier than the command headquarters. The scent of magic lingered everywhere.
Then a young woman came to greet Galahad. He had seen her at the meeting hall.
“I’m Lumian, adjutant to Commander Mark of the Fifth Battalion.”
The woman led Galahad to a large building among the barracks. Security was tight.
Out of habit, Galahad took note of its layout and the placement of personnel. It was an occupational habit.
Knock, knock, knock.
“Come in.”
Lumian opened the door and stepped aside.
Mark, commander of the Fifth Battalion, was a man utterly worn by fatigue. He stood and offered Galahad his hand.
“You arrived even sooner than expected. Did you find something?”
After their brief greeting, Mark got straight to the point.
“Why do you think that?”
“Adrianna is a principled person. She would likely inspect every watchtower before wrapping things up, and there hasn’t been enough time for that. Unless you found something and captured the culprit to close the case, there’s no reason you would arrive this quickly.”
He was sharper than Galahad had expected. Perhaps that was why he spoke so quickly.
“That’s right. On the way here, we caught one mid-ranking Demonkin, two mages, and sixteen Mole Monsters. Adrianna was late, so that delayed us.”
Mark narrowed his eyes for a moment, as though trying to gauge whether he meant it.
“You have no reason to lie, so I suppose it’s true.”
Mark believed him surprisingly quickly.
“So that’s why His Grace the Grand Duke entrusted you with a unit. Hmm.”
Mark tapped the table with a finger.
“Are you planning to establish your headquarters at my battalion base?”
The subject changed again.
“It’s centrally located between the First Battalion, where Adrianna is, and the command headquarters. That makes it suitable. Isn’t that why you came here immediately? Though I may be making a bit of a leap...”
Galahad nodded readily.
“I see. Offering you a place isn’t difficult, but there are a few problems.”
Knock, knock.
The door opened at the same time as the knock. A robed man with a goatee entered.
He carried no weapon. That meant he wasn’t a soldier.
“Perfect timing. This is Corton, our unit’s external adviser.”
Mark smiled as he introduced him.
The goateed man named Corton held out his hand with the smile of a merchant.
“Nice to meet you.”
As he clasped Corton’s hand, Galahad habitually sent mana into him.
‘He has a considerable amount of mana...’
It was typical evidence of the Dark Magic Society. They would do anything to increase their mana, so they tended to have a lot of it.
“If you have a guest, I could come back later.”
“No, this is Commander Galahad, the man you were curious about.”
Corton took a seat close to Mark.
‘This is getting interesting.’
Catching a dark mage wasn’t difficult. Find their residence, put a hole in their head, then submit a report. That was all there was to it.
Galahad had expected to resolve this the same way.
Yet the situation was taking a different turn.
“Corton is someone we are very grateful to for improving the poor conditions of the Fifth Battalion.”
Mark’s voice was surprisingly warm as he introduced the bald man.
‘So that’s the problem Mark mentioned.’
The two seemed quite close.
Perhaps there was already a mage settled here, making it difficult for Mark to accept another.
“Are you that Galahad?”
Corton’s eyes widened. An unpleasant flush rose to his face.
‘That Galahad...’
It had been a while since he had heard that form of address.
“I’m that Galahad.”
“What do you mean, that Galahad?”
“Ah, he graduated top of the capital Academy as its youngest graduate, so he’s famous among mages.”
Corton spoke with forced sincerity. Mark’s eyes widened slightly.
“You graduated from the Academy?”
“Yes. Actually, I saw him at the Academy.”
“Really?”
The man’s reaction was slightly odd. He seemed displeased by something.
“Yes. He entered when I was in my graduating class and graduated before I did.”
“You spent four years in your graduating class?”
It had taken Galahad exactly three years from entering the Academy to graduating. That meant the man had spent at least four years in his graduating class.
When the man’s face twisted, Galahad realized his guess had been correct.
“That’s normal for most people.”
The man’s eyes turned hostile.
‘An inferiority complex.’
It was a familiar look to Galahad.
He had been seeing that look since he entered the Academy as its youngest student.
People with those eyes always gave something up when needled.
“I only spent half a year in my graduating class, so I wouldn’t know. My apologies.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. Galahad smiled.
“Ah, did it take you longer than four years?”
That must have been a sore spot, because the man’s face turned red.
“I didn’t realize Galahad was such a famous person. So that’s why the Empire sent you here.”
Mark chimed in with an odd look in his eyes. His gaze seemed to be calculating something.
Which of them would benefit him more...
He was a clever man.
The moment Mark praised him, Corton reacted.
“What does it matter when you graduated? What matters is what you did after graduating. Yet I heard nothing at all about that Galahad after graduation. What exactly have you been doing?”
The fact that no news had spread was proof of how capable an agent Galahad was.
Being praised to his face...
Galahad scratched his cheek before answering.
“I kept busy with this and that.”
“Oh, you were busy.”
Mark chimed in again. Corton smiled mockingly.
“Ah, I heard the news. You survived somehow.”
Anyone who heard the rumor that the third son of a count had been married off to the eldest daughter of a grand duke would react like that.
They would think he had been sent there to die for the sake of appearances.
The Grand Duke had originally intended to throw Galahad into an underground prison, so it wasn’t entirely wrong.
“Corton, what are you doing?”
“I’m just glad to see an Academy classmate here.”
At Mark’s intervention, Corton grinned. Mark seemed to be playing the mediator.
“I’m glad to see a classmate in this distant north too.”
Corton ground his teeth at Galahad’s pointed answer.
“Unlike you, I came here for business. For me, the north is a land of opportunity.”
“Oh, doing business in the north, a wasteland for magic? Impressive.”
Corton’s brow creased further at Galahad’s tone.
“Ha! I’ve recently discovered three Magic Stone Mines. You know their value.”
He had only pressed him slightly, yet the man’s inferiority complex had made him boast.
He had even joined the Dark Magic Society. He was twisted even among mages, so such an intense reaction wasn’t surprising.
“It’s a business venture with Commander Mark. It would be good if you joined us too, but... you’re such a capable person, aren’t you? You couldn’t possibly work under an inferior student like me. What a shame!”
The man smiled mockingly.
‘An inferior student...’
It sounded like something he had said before. Galahad had been rather sensitive during his Academy days.
“The Academy’s pride, our wonderful Galahad, who graduated youngest from the Academy, would never work under an inferior student like me. Isn’t that right?”
As he said that, the man held out his hand. His eyes showed absolute certainty that Galahad wouldn’t accept the offer.
It was obvious mockery.
Galahad met Mark’s eyes. That ruthlessly calculating gaze seemed to ask which of them would benefit him more.
Galahad grinned.
“Good. This is what classmates are for.”
The moment he eagerly grabbed Corton’s hand, Corton’s eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets.
Mark’s lips curled slightly, as though he had seen something amusing.
Corton tried to pull his hand away too late, but Galahad didn’t let go.
Three Magic Stone Mines...
A single mine earned as much as the lord of an average castle.
It wasn’t simply a matter of money. If they had plenty of Magic Stones, teaching Gwen would become easier as well. Whenever she lacked mana, she could use Magic Stones.
With Magic Stones, they could add all sorts of features when constructing the Special Operations Unit headquarters.
In other words...
“So, where should I report to work?”
It was a gold mine.
He was giving him three Magic Stone Mines.
School ties really were important.
Footnotes:
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