Chapter 5
Elliot had not noticed the strange atmosphere that had settled over the table, nor had he registered that Luon had just addressed a question to him. His attention had been thoroughly captured by the food.
Delicious.
Among all the things that had pleased him most about returning to the past, being able to eat food this good ranked near the top. And the spread before him now was a far cry from the simple meals he had been eating alone of late, with course after course of fine dishes laid out in abundance. That Elliot's mind had been entirely consumed by the food was, in a sense, entirely understandable.
"Elliot?"
When humanity had stood at the edge of annihilation, food had been no different. In those days, provisions had been precious beyond measure. As a member of the upper ranks, his circumstances had been somewhat better than those of commoners, but that was a relative comparison and nothing more.
Toward the end, there were insects, if I recall correctly.
Compared to what sat before him now, the difference was something like the distance between filth and gold. No, it had been worse than that. Food had ceased to be about taste and become purely a matter of survival, and in time even insects had been received with genuine gratitude. People had died of starvation in numbers too vast to count, and not all of them had fallen in battle.
"Elliot."
Luon called again, and this time Elliot came back to himself.
"Yes, brother. What is it?"
What now?
"When did you learn that etiquette?"
Only then did Elliot realize his error. The ancient forms had become so thoroughly ingrained in him that he had been following them on pure instinct.
Well. Does it really matter?
By the time Elliot had been in that position, everyone at this table had been long dead, and he himself had held a considerable rank within the human alliance under the name of the Nert duchy. In those days, the ancient etiquette had been an essential accomplishment for anyone of high standing.
The reason was this: the ancient forms had been created in an era far removed from the present, born from the shared table of humans and other races. Though the practice had nearly vanished in the current age, the other races still inhabited the same continent.
"I studied it from a book and practiced diligently."
"From a book?"
Elliot considered how to explain it, then gave the most straightforward answer available to him. There was no need to tell the truth, and even if he did, no one would believe it.
"If not from a book, then who else would have taught me ancient etiquette?"
"I suppose that is true."
In the face of the demon race, humans and other races had united their strength. The other races were few in number compared to humanity, but each individual among them was formidably powerful. Those of high rank had thrown themselves into learning the ancient forms with desperate earnestness, hoping to win even a fraction more goodwill from those powerful allies.
Humanity was humanity, in the end.
Elliot smiled inwardly, though it was a bitter smile. Faced with extinction, humanity had presented a unified front to the world, but within that front the factions had multiplied endlessly. Divisions along national lines had been impossible to prevent, and everyone had been fighting to draw the other races closer to their own side.
Consider the image: humans and other races sharing a meal together, and one person using the contemporary etiquette that existed only among humans, while another used the ancient forms that all races recognized. Toward whom would goodwill naturally flow? Unlike humans, the other races lived long lives, and they remembered the old ways.
"The ancient forms are not something one masters simply by reading."
"Which is why I practiced very diligently indeed."
Elliot continued his meal in steady silence beneath the family's collective gaze, which regarded him now as one might regard something inexplicable. The food in front of him was, at present, of considerably greater importance to him than any of that.
"..."
"..."
A quiet dinner followed. Whether on account of Elliot or for some other reason, very quiet. When the meal came to its proper end, tea was brought out as etiquette prescribed. It was, a celebrated blend of cornflower and bergamot, not quite worth its weight in gold but far beyond the reach of any commoner.
Ah. It has truly been a long time.
It had been ages since Elliot had last indulged in anything so fine. As he sat savoring the luxury of it at his leisure, the duchess turned to the duke and asked:
"The fragrance is lovely. But what occasion brings Elliot to a family dinner today?"
"It concerns his social debut."
"Was that not already arranged for our party in a few days?"
"I changed my mind after speaking with Professor Laurence."
Everyone present wore expressions of puzzlement at the duke's words.
"What do you mean?"
"You will understand once you hear Elliot at the piano. Shall we move there now?"
It was phrased as a question, but the duke's words carried in them the weight of a decision already made. Elliot drank the rest of his tea in one regretful swallow.
"Show me what you can do. I trust Professor Laurence's word, but if you fall short of what he has promised, your debut will proceed as originally planned."
The venue of his debut was not, in truth, something Elliot felt strongly about. But he had no intention of letting an opportunity that had come to him of its own accord slip away.
Still, where one makes one's debut matters a great deal for one's reputation going forward.
Opportunities to display one's skill at the piano before a large assembly of nobility were not so plentiful, and in this era, reputation was a form of power.
"Yes."
Elliot drew a slow breath and placed his fingers on the keys. The familiar system window appeared before him, grown accustomed now after the days that had passed.
[Would you like to activate the System? YES / NO]
To activate it was to produce the world-class performance that Professor Laurence had praised. To decline was to play at a level somewhat below that. The System had brought his abilities forward in great leaps, but there was still a distance between what it produced and what he could call truly his own. To fully absorb and internalize that skill would take time. Without the System, his current level was approximately A rank.
Eventually I will not need to borrow from it. But for now.
Or perhaps, once he had grown fully into his own ability, adding the System's power on top of that would allow him to reach still greater heights. With that thought in mind, Elliot selected YES, and the memories of the piano began to flow into him.
Elliot began to play. This time, the piano did not sing of despair and hope but of sorrow alone. There had been times when the old man played in solitude after the war had ended, and in those moments it was sorrow that he had poured into the keys.
Those performances had not been for anyone else. They had been the release of grief that had nowhere else to go. He had been too sorrowful, and there had been no vessel into which he could pour it. And so he had loaded the piano with sorrow, deep and unrelenting.
Sometimes I think it might have been easier to have died alongside my son.
If he had, then perhaps it would not have hurt this much. That was the thought that lived in the old man. Had it not been for the grandchild, he would likely have put an end to himself. He was too old and too exhausted to hold anger and hatred in his heart. Even the act of continuing to live had become something he wanted to surrender.
And so everything was suffused with grief.
The sky seemed stained with it. The wind seemed stained with it. Even the grandchild. The old man had played hope for the sake of others, but in the deepest part of him sorrow had taken up permanent residence.
Everyone had been too weary to notice, and in those days no one had had the ease of mind required to listen carefully enough to catch it. But someone with even a modest sensitivity to music and the luxury to truly attend to what they were hearing would certainly have perceived it.
This is something else entirely.
The duke was deeply moved as he listened, though he kept the feeling well within himself. The others were no different. In truth, those present had not expected much before Elliot began to play. They already knew his abilities, or believed they did.
How impressive can it really be? He has some talent, certainly.
But the moment Elliot's fingers touched the keys, every breath in the room stopped. His playing drew them inward, pulling them into depths they had not anticipated. And the theme of it was sorrow.
Even the duke, whose mind had been forged into something formidable through years of mastery with the sword, found himself drawn in before he was aware of it. The duchess, whose sensibilities ran somewhat deeper, found tears falling from her eyes of their own accord.
"..."
"..."
The time Elliot played was a mere five minutes.
Brief, if one were measuring simply. But to those who listened, it was the longest five minutes in the world.
The duke drew a handkerchief from within his coat and gently dried the duchess's tears, then spoke:
"Let us all return to our rooms. And my lady, if you would stay a moment."
He had wanted to listen longer, but the state of everyone present made it clear that the evening needed to be brought to a close.
There will be time to hear more later.
The duke brought the duchess to his study and instructed the butler:
"Bring us a warm cup of tea."
Over a brief interlude with their tea, both the duke and the duchess allowed the sorrow that had settled over them to gradually ease.
"Are you feeling better now?"
"I made a poor showing of myself."
"Not at all. Though I must say, it has been quite some time since I last saw you weep."
"I am embarrassed."
The duke smiled quietly and said:
"Hearing Elliot play today confirmed it for me. He has some ability with the sword, but nothing approaching what he has with the piano."
"What do you mean?"
"Going forward, Elliot will take charge of the arts on behalf of our house."
"The arts?"
"Indeed. If Elliot comes to represent this family in that domain, no one will ever dare to call us uncultured again."
This was, in effect, a declaration that Elliot would not be inheriting the ducal title. As it had always been, and as it would continue to be, the head of the Nert duchy had to stand supreme with the sword.
Under ordinary circumstances, the duke would not have drawn that line so clearly. Primogeniture was the standard, yes, but if Elliot were to surpass Luon with the sword? In that case, the duke would have been perfectly willing to pass his seat to Elliot without hesitation.
But however I consider it, his ability with the sword, while not without merit, does not reach Luon's level.
If the talent he had shown at the piano had manifested in swordsmanship instead, the story would have been different. Of course, talent did not determine everything, and the duke understood that well enough. But the gift Elliot had displayed at the piano was simply too brilliant to look past.
The basics of swordsmanship are still necessary.
Anyone bearing the name of the Nert family needed to be capable of at least the fundamentals. But to devote Elliot entirely to the sword seemed, however one looked at it, a waste of what he was clearly born to do.
"He will move the continent to tears with that piano."
"I see."
"So rather than working against the boy, I would ask you to look after him a little. He has no mother, after all."
"...I understand."
"Ha! Today is a day for celebration. Luon with the sword, and Elliot with the piano. I have seen with my own eyes that our house will flourish even greater in the next generation!"
The duchess was not slow to understand what the duke's words truly meant. He had made it clear and final that Elliot would not be heir. She hesitated for a moment, but nodded at last.
While the duke and duchess were exchanging those words, Elliot was in Luon's room. Luon had been so deeply moved by Elliot's playing that he had invited him there himself.
"When did you get that good at the piano? I was genuinely shocked."
"It happened after I was ill. Even now, my own ability feels like something out of a dream."
Elliot answered evenly. In truth, the old man's lingering impressions still clung to him, and a quiet sorrow still colored his mood.
"My chest still aches, even now."
"Does it? I am glad the performance moved you, brother."
They talked idly for a while after that. Luon asked most of the questions, and Elliot answered them. When the atmosphere had loosened somewhat, Luon let out a quiet remark.
"I am glad your talent is in the piano and not the sword."
"Pardon?"
"If you had shown that kind of ability with the sword instead of the piano, I would not have invited you here like this."
Luon smiled, and there was something wry in it.
"To be honest, I was so happy when I found out I had a younger brother. A brother with a different mother who appeared out of nowhere, but still a brother. I wanted to get to know you. Telling you to call me brother a year ago, that was why."
But he had understood that getting close was not something he could simply do, not given the position he was in. And so Luon had, at some point, stopped reaching toward Elliot. Elliot understood, and he nodded.
In the past, I would have taken that as mockery.
But now he could hear that Luon meant every word of it.
"In any case, I am glad we will be able to grow closer going forward. In that spirit, I have something for you. Consider it a token of thanks for the wonderful performance tonight."
Luon crossed to a drawer in the room and produced a single brush, which he held out to Elliot.
"This is?"
"I received it as a birthday gift, I think when I was eighteen or nineteen. A very fine brush, with ancient magic worked into it. Historically significant as well. But I have no talent for art, and it has been sitting unused in that drawer. It seemed like it would suit you better."
To put it plainly, Luon was utterly hopeless when it came to the arts. His social debut had been a considerable ordeal as a result.
"You had some ability with painting as well as the piano, did you not? Until early last year you were saying you would debut with a painting rather than a piano piece."
"Yes, that is right."
"So here, take it as a gift. You will make better use of it than I ever could, and a tool is better off being used than sitting forgotten in a drawer."
Elliot received the unexpected gift in something of a daze. He had not even known this brush existed in his first life.
Hm?
But the moment his hand closed around the brush, he could not help but startle.
[Would you like to activate the System? YES / NO]
It was the first time the System had responded to anything other than the piano.