Standing beside her, it was clear that Patricia Kindred’s frame was far more delicate than that of a typical sixteen-year-old student.
By my estimation, she was less than five feet tall. Sandwiched between me and the towering Edward, the two of us in our long trench coats looked like those men in that famous photograph of an alien being captured.
"You really ought to eat more," I told her. "Get some more nutrients in you."
The southern territories—situated on the opposite side of the Royal Capital from the Brave Territory—were bordered by the sea and mountain ranges, leaving them with no fear of invasion. Most of the Capital's vast food supply was produced there. After three hundred years of peace, the populace had turned their attention toward culture, which meant the food in this world actually tasted decent. Even in the game, the meals had been depicted as quite luxurious. It was very much "Early Modern European-esque." Emphasis on the "-esque."
"Shut it," Patricia muttered, idly picking at her ear.
Yeah, definitely a brat. For a second, I wondered if her frail appearance was meant to trigger some protective instinct in men, but I knew better. This was a woman who could maneuver her way through an entire nation's high society on her own. She was more than capable of taking care of herself.
"Patricia, I happen to have some cookies on hand, you know?" Edward offered, ignoring her attitude entirely. "It would be a stain on the Kingdom’s honor if you were to collapse from malnutrition while in our care."
"..."
"They are a special recipe, packed with butter and perfect nutritional value. Even if you were stranded in the Yudina Mountain Range, ten of these would keep you alive for ten days."
A one-cookie-per-day survival rate? That was an absurd amount of calories. I almost wanted to requisition them as field rations for the Brave Territory.
"I... I suppose I'll take one," Patricia said.
I really thought she shouldn't, but pressured by Edward’s sheer intensity, she took a single bite of the special cookie.
"—!! Mmmgh!!"
She immediately clutched her mouth and bolted for the restroom. Well, of course she did. No matter who ate it, the heartburn from one of those things would be catastrophic.
"How rude of her," Edward sighed. "They have just the right amount of sweetness after a session of Constant Mana Output Training."
"You have some weird training habits," I remarked.
"We don't have the Yudina Mountain Range in our backyard, nor are we constantly at war with neighboring nations like the Brave family. The Capital is far too safe, so I have to make do. To catch up and surpass you, I’ll need to survive at least a hundred more brushes with death."
Yeah, good luck with that, Edward, I thought. I didn't see the point in seeking out death, but I supposed raw strength was just the byproduct of surviving with your life on the line. Still, I felt like mental growth was just as important, though it wasn't my place to preach. To most people, I was no different from a common murderer.
"Hey! You bastards! What did you just feed the Boss?"
A group of thugs from the Duchy swaggered toward us from behind. For some reason, the Duchy's uniforms were gakuran—standard black high school jackets—while Patricia had been wearing a sailor-style school uniform. It only added to the "delinquent gang" aesthetic. I couldn't help but wonder if the choice of clothing was a teaser for some sequel to the original game.
"You guys are the ones, aren't you?"
"The losers the Boss dumped back at the academy?"
"Hyahaha! With a head like that, it's no wonder she kicked you to the curb!"
It looked like Patricia had built herself another reverse harem even after moving to the Duchy. They were all flashy, aggressive-looking handsome guys. Were these really the Duchy's nobles?
"Good grief," Edward murmured. "The Duchy's nobility truly lacks class."
"Hah? We ain't nobles. In the Duchy, strength is everything. Status don't mean squat. We're the elites who kicked the nobles out of their spots."
"Don’t call yourselves elites," Edward said coldly. "It makes you sound weak."
The thugs, already agitated by Patricia's sudden departure, snapped.
"Stop acting tough, you baldy!"
"She doesn't want a reject like you! Baldy!"
"Baldy! Baldy! Stupid baldy!"
"I’ll carve you up right here! You hear me!?"
"—I am not a baldy. I am the Shadow!"
Even Edward had his limits. He released a sudden burst of magic power. The air thickened, turning heavy and solid, pinning the thugs where they stood.
"Guh... what is...?"
"Damn it... I can't move..."
I'd heard they were Duchy students, so I thought they'd have some teeth, but they were just kids.
Edward looked down at them. "Is this all the students of the Duchy amount to?"
"You bastard...!"
"There are people here who can use magic chantless as easily as breathing."
I didn't bother correcting him. In Edward's world, the only people he dealt with were the Student Council or the Dark Section. Excluding Clive and Treisa, most of our circle used chantless magic. To the Dark Section, it was a basic requirement. So, technically, his "plenty of people" comment wasn't wrong.
"Tch... fine... but that virgin-looking punk next to you is getting dragged down too—gubuh!"
"Did you say something?"
I heard something particularly annoying, so I reflexively punched him. Barrier Punch. It wasn't a focused strike; I used a flat plane of force. The entire group was slammed back, cratering into the wall as one.
I’d hoped for a bit more of a challenge, but they were all just trash. Their designs were the definition of "background mob."
"Edward," I said. "We’ll likely have to deal with them during the Sage Festival anyway. You can just kill them now and make it look like an accident."
"I see. So these were to be my opponents. Well, if the Duchy truly is a meritocracy, then dying in battle shouldn't be an issue."
Show them, then. Show them the true power of a Kingdom mage.