Hentai King System

"…Now then."

Rigel's mutter melted into his footsteps and was absorbed by the cobblestones.

The instant the royal castle's outer wall came into view, the weight of the air changed.

The soldiers before the gate "sorted" passersby with only their gazes and made a place of different temperature.

"Halt. Your business."

Before the gate the shaft of a spear was put out sideways.

The soldier's voice was hard.

But the eyes were soft, toward contempt.

Academy uniform.

He was probably a noble.

But his load was little, and there were no attendants.

With that alone the ranking ended.

"An audience."

"Ha? An audience?"

The young soldier next to him bit back a laugh.

The owner of the voice took one step forward as if showing the position of his sword belt on purpose.

The leather sword belt was intentionally exposed to the light.

"A spring-break giddy student come to sightsee the castle? Go back. This is—"

"If you look at the sealing wax you'll understand."

The instant Rigel took one letter from his breast, the air chilled a step.

Red sealing wax.

The royal family's crest.

And the name Rigel von Gousel.

The young soldier's throat sounded.

The veteran soldier who had first readied his spear finally switched to a serious face.

He seemed to have finally noticed the weight of the situation after scratching around rules and memory in his head.

"…Pardon us. Confirmation is by regulation."

Regulation.

A convenient word.

It even wrapped the thin smile of a moment ago.

"If you understand, open it. I'm not free either."

Throwing it he passed through the gate.

At the Royal Academy he had deliberately taken a stance of being "looked down on."

He would not get furious at this level of treatment at this point.

"Understood. Lord Rigel von Gousel, this way please."

Nominally status was not asked.

At the academy that was the "air."

But here the air itself was made of status.

The thickness of the corridor carpet, the attendants' stride, the angle of opening doors. Everything spoke of rank.

Even the time made to wait in the waiting room felt like being tested.

If he reached for the tea sweets on the silver tray it would be taken as "composure," if he did not touch them as "defiance."

Whichever way it went, someone would report to someone and somewhere an evaluation would be pasted over.

"…Doesn't matter."

At a soliloquy as if spat out the attendant only pasted on a smile and stayed silent.

Eventually the door opened, the audience chamber.

Under a high ceiling the steps of the throne were "distance" itself.

King Wistaria first dominated the place with his gaze, then dropped his voice.

That voice was not large.

Yet it fell from the distant throne and reached even the stone at his feet.

"Raise your face, Rigel."

The name called was short.

But there was pressure that blocked escape routes.

The instant he raised his face, the king's eyes stabbed.

"I summoned you immediately after the completion ceremony. You must have had spring-break plans. Sorry."

"…An audience with Your Majesty is the supreme joy. It takes priority over anything else."

"I don't need flattery. After academy life where status is not asked, it should be about time you forgot etiquette."

The king's mouth warped a very little.

Showing light irony, he crushed one escape route.

In other words, an order of "don't paper over it."

The king placed a beat and continued.

"You worked well in the previous Valstine campaign. The runner-up at the Academy Martial Arts Tournament is also splendid. I hear a first-year runner-up is the first in history."

"Yes! That said, I missed the championship. I still lack training."

"Humble of you. I won't tell you to boast of merit, but the royal capital has begun consuming you as a 'hero,' you know?"

"…I feel it on my skin."

"If you dislike being the used side, turn to the using side. I'll give you that opportunity."

The preface was that far.

Check, consolation, then bait.

The king switched to the main subject.

"The former Valstine territory is destabilizing."

The voice was quiet, and that was why there was no place to flee.

Not crushing with a loud voice, but blocking the gaps themselves one would try to flee through.

There was no time for words to drift in midair.

"Deterioration of public order by remnant forces. That alone does not explain it. Local reports contradict, and there is a smell of fog being burned on purpose. …You go and confirm it with those eyes."

"Me alone?"

"The Blade Count house is on site. You should already be acquainted. Cooperate and deal with it."

The Blade Count house.

The instant the name came out the air changed a little.

A famous house everyone knew.

Involved in local rule, the territorial army was powerful, and thick with the royal capital as well.

"…But, yes. As needed I'll also arrange additional support personnel. I'll have them selected on this side."

To one who wanted freedom, he passed a chain that connected to freedom.

The king knew how to place "bait."

The material of the chain was soft, the feel pleasant.

Only it could not be removed easily.

"I'll also tell you your future treatment."

The king raised one finger.

Not explanation.

Notification.

"The academy curriculum still has two years left, but for the time being it will be 'extracurricular learning.'"

"Extracurricular learning."

"Depending on results, after returning to the royal capital it is also possible to resume school having advanced a year. Or, without returning to the academy, I'll leave you the rule of the occupied territory as frontier count as is."

Irritation that trouble had increased came first.

At the same time a sense of liberation of "I can leave the academy" lit in the depths of his chest.

He had enjoyed academy-life-unique rape through one round.

It was about time he had started to get bored.

In a sense it was just right.

Rigel put one knee down and lowered his head according to form.

Not from loyalty, nor from reverence.

He only understood that opposing would be more of a pain.

"I accept the command. I'll look at the situation and cut if necessary."

"I'll leave everything to you. …I acknowledge your combat power. I will not put extra bindings on the hero of the Valstine campaign."

"I am honored."

After that formal exchanges continued again, and the audience ended.

Whatever was said, however many polite words lined up, the core no longer moved.

Confirmation, approval, and record.

Those piled matter-of-factly, and at the end "finished" was pasted on.

Here even turning one's back was a ritual.

Without disordering his stride, matching his footsteps, neither too fast nor too slow.

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