How to Raise a Dumb Wolf - Chapter 99

Carter III had just won a match and was visibly in excellent spirits. The imperial beastfolk family had always revered martial prowess and battle. Though their beast forms were not large, their human forms suffered no such disadvantage. Like his parents, siblings, and ancestors long before him, Carter III had therefore studied swordsmanship from adolescence with training no less rigorous than that of any warrior or true swordsman. Moreover, Carter III’s reputation as Beast’s greatest emperor in several centuries was by no means empty praise. He possessed exceptional natural ability, and his swordsmanship could only be described as superb. When he had once led troops into battle personally, great things had been expected of him; things had merely gone a little awry.

But because Carter III’s status was so exalted, the beastfolk nobility of Beast had been increasingly unwilling to spar with him for roughly the past dozen years. Losing would be humiliating, and worse still, an overly sharp blade might damage His Majesty’s smooth, gleaming, noble, perfect fur. Consequently, Carter III could never find an opponent and was deeply lonely. Without anyone noticing, his weight had risen from twenty-seven and a half jin (about 30.3 pounds) to its present twenty-eight jin (about 30.9 pounds). Although his ministers unanimously insisted that the extra half jin (about 0.6 pounds) came entirely from His Majesty having grown even taller and more imposing, the emperor himself could not help wondering whether his human face had become rounder. Of course, no one else knew that he feared Louisa might fail to recognize him if he returned to her after growing too plump…

In short, Carter III was genuinely delighted that so many people were willing to fight him without reservation this time. After such a long period without stretching his limbs, the sudden burst of activity had invigorated his entire being. He even looked younger in human form. Then again, catfolk showed their age less readily to begin with, and many spectators apparently believed that the competitor “William Nelson” was only in his thirties.

Les looked at the radiant Carter III and nodded.

The cat emperor gave his shoulder a satisfied pat and smiled. “Good. There is no need to hold back against me, because I will be fighting with all my strength as well.”

“…Yes.”

“Then… I look forward to meeting you in the arena.”

Carter III smiled. He sensed a trace of tension and gravity around Les and hoped to ease it.

“Do not worry too much about fighting me, and do not pay too much attention to all the conditions Tina Killott has imposed upon you. That girl may have a formidable mother, but your foster father is no weakling either, is he? Relax. What matters is what the two of you think… By the way, why don’t you introduce her to me sometime? Once the World Tournament ends, I will soon be returning home.”

Les paused, and the ears beneath his hair turned faintly red. Naturally, he was willing to introduce Aisha to the elder who had raised him. He simply did not know whether Aisha would agree…

“Just ask her first,” Carter III said with an understanding smile. After raising this wolf cub for so many years, he could guess Les’s thoughts without hearing a word. “If she feels it is still too soon, you can find another opportunity to bring her to Beast later.”

“I… will try.”

After a pause, Les answered solemnly.

The cat emperor smiled and nodded. “Good.”

…

Les and Pal escorted Carter III and his minister Fawkes back to their hotel. Only after confirming that they had reached their room did the two young men leave with peace of mind. Pal was far calmer around Carter III now than he had been at first, but he remained nervous. Unlike Les, who had been raised by the cat emperor, Pal was merely the son of a minor noble, still in school and without an official post. He rarely had opportunities to see Carter III, much less meet him this frequently. Every time he came to escort the Beast Emperor, Pal looked like a timid leopard struck by a devastating shock, his tail curling in fear.

This time too, he did not release a long breath until they had left the hotel. Then he looked at Les in concern. “Les, will you truly be all right? Fighting His Majesty…”

“Mm.”

Les inclined his head slightly, his gaze still fixed straight ahead. He said nothing more, but his fist tightened.

His Majesty was right, and Les trusted his words. Even so…

Tension was not so easily dispelled. This match concerned his future with Aisha. And… his opponent was His Majesty. Les could not possibly face it without his full concentration.

…

At last, the day of the match arrived. Early summer had quietly deepened into midsummer. As always, the sky hurriedly brightened when the clock passed five. A cloudless blue expanse and crystalline air unmistakably promised another day of fierce sunshine.

Aisha woke as soon as dawn broke.

In truth, anxiety had kept her awake until very late the previous night. She could not sleep, but feared that using communication magic might disturb Les’s rest, so she did not dare contact him and could only toss and turn alone. Even after she drifted off, her sleep remained shallow. When she woke, her body was exhausted, but her mind was painfully alert. Aisha clenched her hands. Despite the summer heat, they were icy with nerves, and if she concentrated, she could feel them trembling faintly.

Today was an extraordinarily important day for both her and Les.

Because ten was an awkward number for the final stage, the World Tournament divided the competitors into four groups of two, two, three, and three. Lots determined the members of each group, and the ultimate champion would be selected from the winners of all four. In other words… winning his group would satisfy Tina’s requirement and place Les in the top five. If he failed, however, he would have to “contend” with the others for fifth place on the basis of the judges’ scores. In that case, luck would play some role.

The beastfolk man called William had already defeated the other member of their group. His match against Les would decide the group winner. To ordinary spectators, it might merely be a prelude to the most important battles for the championship. But to Aisha and Les… this was the decisive match.

Aisha was tormented by anxiety. Combined with her lack of sleep, it left her distracted even during Eric’s lesson. She had to force herself desperately to focus and only narrowly avoided embarrassing herself.

As soon as class ended, Aisha hurried to the Free Arena.

“Les!”

This time, she did not even enter the medical team’s preparation room. She went straight backstage to Les. He had been adjusting his clothes and turned at the sound of her voice. When he saw Aisha running toward him, he quickly rose and caught her in his arms.

For some reason, holding Aisha immediately made him feel much calmer.

“I’ll be sitting in the stands today,” Aisha said with a smile. “Good luck.”

“Mm.”

Les nodded, lowered his head, cradled her face, and kissed her forehead.

“Wait for me.”

“I will.”

…

Elsewhere, Carter III had skillfully put his clothes in order and was calmly inspecting his sword. With the weapon in hand, he cast a casual glance aside and raised an eyebrow at the red fox intently shaping a ball of magic.

“Fawkes, what are you doing?”

“Creating a relatively inconspicuous magic array capable of bearing a great deal of magical power, Your Majesty.”

Fawkes did not stop working as he answered respectfully.

“You have been away from the capital for far too long, and on a whim, you chose to participate in a tournament like this. The ministers are all worried about you, and they are also deeply interested in your match against Major General Wolf. I would therefore like to use magic to let them observe the match between you and the major general.”

Fawkes paused. “Would you object?”

“No.”

Carter III considered for a moment, then gave Fawkes an elegant nod.

“Do as you please.”

“Yes. Thank you, Your Majesty.”

…

Several minutes later, in the great hall of Beast’s imperial palace…

Though Carter III was absent, beastfolk of every high rank still gathered in the hall where the Beast Emperor usually received officials and nobles from every tribe. They sat in solemn unison, all raising their heads to stare gravely at the magic array spinning across the ceiling.

Even the ceiling of the beastfolk palace was adorned with intricate, magnificent carvings and chandeliers. Fawkes’s magic appeared unrestricted by any of them. It spread directly over the elaborate patterns, and a clear image gradually emerged. The instant the picture appeared, the gathered beasts cried out in excitement.

“There it is! There it is! The picture finally appeared!”

“That’s Lord Fawkes!”

“Awooo! Awooo!”

“And His Majesty! It’s His Majesty! That handsome heel at the edge of the picture—I would recognize at a glance that it belongs to His Majesty!”

The enormous magic array covering the ceiling rotated and flashed until it formed a complete image. If the beastfolk could develop one-way visual communication magic, naturally they could also create magic that transmitted images across great distances. In truth, however, both kinds of magic carried numerous exacting limitations and required an advanced mage to perform. A spell that transferred images all the way from Wold to Beast and enlarged them to cover an entire ceiling was so demanding that perhaps only an exceptionally accomplished court mage like Fawkes could achieve it anywhere in the empire.

Perhaps sensing the admiring and respectful gazes of every animal in the palace—some craning their heads upward, some twisting or tilting them, and others simply lying on the floor to look up after growing tired—the fox in the image rose onto his hind legs. He bowed while extending both front paws in an inviting gesture, modestly acknowledging their admiration. Only then did he move aside and reveal the complete scene.

Carter III, Les, and a dense crowd of spectators appeared in the image. Roaring cheers came through from the other side. They had plainly moved into the arena.

“That is clearly the largest stadium in the Free Arena. I entered it in my youth!”

General Salman of the lionfolk lay on his back on the palace floor, paws tucked in and all four legs bent, as he offered a perfectly solemn explanation.

“It appears the match is about to begin.”