The day of the triumphant return.

While every street and alley in the Imperial Capital boiled with excitement, the Count's estate was utterly silent. There was no grand banquet, no celebration, not even a simple reception.

The original plan had called for a thousand soldiers drawn from the expeditionary fleet to march into the city and parade before the public. But the moment he left the harbor, Count Raymond handed even that ceremony over to his deputy and hurried home. There, he declined all visitors on the grounds that, after years away at war, he needed some private time to comfort his lonely and beloved wife.

Those who had come eager to flatter the Empire's newest hero were disappointed, but everyone readily accepted such an impeccable excuse.

Inside the Count's mansion, the triumphant hero of the Imperial Navy was staring at his own son.

His expression was deep, melancholy, and complicated.

Had he not trusted his wife's fidelity completely, Count Raymond's first thought upon seeing the child would have been: Is this boy really mine?

The boy looked nothing like him.

The men of the Rowling Family had always been famed for their bold, powerful appearance. A Rowling man ought to be tall and broad, with a wide chest, strong arms, a square face, a straight nose—the very image of a rugged hero.

Count Raymond himself was exactly that sort of man. Tall and imposing, he had been renowned among the Empire's young nobles in his day as a magnificent specimen of manhood.

But this little thing before him...

Du Wei was only three, of course, but for a family famous for producing strapping men, he was much too fair and frail. Then again, the boy had been seriously ill a month ago. Perhaps that was why he looked so weak.

The three-year-old heir to the countship, Du Wei Rowling, met his father's gaze with an impassive expression. He did not bawl with the healthy vigor of other children his age, which displeased the Count. Tradition held that the louder a child cried, the stronger he was.

The boy was far too quiet. He sat on the bed with both hands on his knees, looking up at his father as though curious—and as though judging him.

The Count decided he had to be imagining things. How could a three-year-old's eyes hold such complicated emotions?

Yet Count Raymond's feelings were nothing compared to Du Wei's.

The beautiful, mature Countess had softened his heart with her motherly love and what she had done for him a month earlier.

But this “father” who had suddenly appeared...

Hmph. Who did he think he was?

“He... truly still cannot speak?” The Count's expression was grave. He glanced at his wife, saw the tears in her eyes, and felt his heart soften. He had sailed away for three years, leaving her alone even when she had been about to give birth and needed him most. He could hardly blame the poor woman for what had become of their only son.

“All right, my dear. If the child cannot speak, we will hire the most learned teacher in the Empire. He will speak eventually. But his body is too weak. The Rowling Family has always won its place in the Empire through military service. My son will naturally follow my path and become an Imperial general; he cannot be so frail. He is three already. It is time to find him a tutor. A weak body will grow strong after a few years of training. What about Alpha? He is my most loyal captain of the guard, skilled with the sword and utterly devoted to the family. Beginning next month, he can teach Du Wei the basics of physical training.”

Hearing that her unfortunate son would have to train so young, the Countess's beautiful eyes filled with tears. “But... he is still so small.”

“That is precisely why he must strengthen his body early! Otherwise, how will he inherit the Rowling Family's military legacy?” The Count, a soldier all his life, made the decision with a wave of his hand.

The next day, Count Raymond attended an audience at the palace. At the public victory ceremony, the Emperor personally awarded him his third First-Class Medal of Valor, then announced his promotion to Deputy Commander of Imperial Headquarters—the second-highest position among the Empire's military officials.

After speaking privately with the Emperor, Raymond voluntarily relinquished his title of first-rank Imperial naval general and handed over command. Leaving the palace, he again declined congratulations from his colleagues, countless banquet invitations, and even invitations from several high clerics of the Temple of the Goddess of Light before rushing home.

By then, the fact that Count Raymond of the Rowling Family had an idiot son was no secret in the Imperial Capital. Many friendly colleagues felt sympathy when they saw the trace of gloom on the Count's face even at his decoration ceremony. Naturally, certain political enemies took secret pleasure in it.

At home, the Count faced his son again. This time, the beautiful Countess was absent. Beside him stood Alpha, his loyal captain of the guard for nearly twenty years: a first-rank Imperial swordsman whose Flameflow Sword art had made him one of the finest swordsmen in the Imperial Capital.

For some reason, Count Raymond had never quite liked his son. The gaze in the child's eyes did not seem merely vacant; it seemed faintly resistant. Still, he told himself he was thinking too much. What could a three-year-old understand? He had been away on expedition since the child's birth and had never even held him. Of course the boy would be a stranger to him.

The captain of the guard first gave Du Wei a formal household retainer's salute, kneeling on one knee beside the bed. Then he lifted the boy, stripped him, and carefully felt every part of his body from head to toe. Du Wei struggled—he clearly disliked being handled by a man—but he could not resist a first-rank swordsman's strength.

“Hah...” Alpha's expression grew serious. He set the Count's heir down, bowed to his master, and said in a low voice, “My Lord, I...”

“Alpha, you are the man I trust most. Do not hold back. Say what you have to say.”

“Young Master Du Wei is very weak. He also seems to have been born somewhat deficient. His bones are thin and his heartbeat irregular. His constitution is even worse than an ordinary person's. If he learns martial arts, I fear...” Alpha gritted his teeth. “I fear he will achieve very little.”

“Then what do you think?”

“I do not believe martial training is a good path for the young master. It would be better to see whether he has talent in some other field.”

The Count's face sank.

The collapse of his hopes for his son's martial future left Raymond dejected for several days. With the Countess's comfort, however, he eventually rallied. After all, this was his only son.

The Rowling Family had earned its standing through military merit, but its history also held one or two outstanding commanders famous for strategy. Those ancestors had not excelled at martial arts either, yet they could coordinate the whole battlefield from the rear, move armies, and decide victory a thousand miles away.

An excellent general did not have to possess peerless martial skill and lead charges at the front. Becoming a great overall commander could add just as much glory to the family.

If he could not study martial arts, then he would study letters.

But how could a child who could not speak learn? Even if a learned scholar were hired to teach him, the boy needed to open his mouth first.

Unlike the Countess's kind and simple maternal heart, Count Raymond began to suspect something strange. He felt that his son was not unable to speak—he was unwilling to speak.

The more often he saw Du Wei, the more he felt that the child was not the idiot he was rumored to be. He was a boy rejecting the world around him. The look he gave his father was unmistakably unfamiliar and resistant; it showed emotion, not the vacant ignorance of an idiot.

Where there was a rich reward, there would always be someone bold enough to claim it. The Count immediately posted an offer throughout the Imperial Capital: scholar or lowly farmer, highborn or humble—whoever could make his son speak would receive one thousand gold coins.

The novelty spread through the whole capital. All manner of people signed up, including several wandering bards from afar. Their methods were even more varied: one played a flute before Du Wei for an entire afternoon; another banged a gong beside his ear; still another shouted behind him when he was not looking. One man boldly suggested throwing the Count's son into a river so he would probably cry for help. The Count's guards promptly broke his legs and threw him out of the estate.

What kind of joke was that? Even if my son is an idiot, he is still my son! Throw him in the river? I'll throw you in first!

While the entire Imperial Capital treated the affair as a curiosity, the greatest difficulty was accidentally solved by a servant at the Count's estate.

That servant was Ma De, the man Du Wei had “personally appointed” in his delirious sleep.

Formerly a stable hand, Ma De was an honest and kind man. He suggested taking Du Wei to see the estate's stables. Children that young were usually curious and delighted by animals. The idea was simple, but the Count agreed to try it.

Ma De carried his little master into the stable...

As luck would have it, the servant who had replaced Ma De in the stables had shirked his work that day and left the manure uncleared. The moment Ma De opened the door with his young master in his arms, a choking reek of horse dung struck them head-on, nearly knocking him backward.

At that moment, little Du Wei spoke in a low voice, almost by reflex.

“The stench is killing me!”

The result was that Ma De immediately received the one-thousand-gold reward. Even the lazy stable hand who had failed to clean the manure escaped punishment and was given twenty gold coins instead.

But when Count Raymond looked at his son's defeated expression, he became even more certain: the boy had been refusing to speak on purpose.

“From today onward, he will be your teacher.” Pointing to an old man in white robes, the Count told his son, “This is Master Rossiat. He bears the title of Imperial astrologer and is also a scholar well versed in history. From now on, he will be your first tutor.”

At first, the learned Master Rossiat performed his duties admirably. After a single year of instruction, four-year-old Du Wei could already write in the Imperial script. Writing at four was hardly miraculous, but it was impressive all the same.

Even the Count, who had never liked his son much, could not help wondering: Could my son truly be a genius?

But when Du Wei reached five, even the accomplished Master Rossiat ran into trouble.

One evening, when Du Wei was five and a half, the Count spoke with Master Rossiat for a long time in the study.

“My Lord, please find someone more capable.” The old astrologer looked utterly dispirited. “Your son is naturally intelligent, but an old man like me truly lacks the energy to instruct such a student...”

The Count's heart sank at the scholar's expression. Any idiot could see that “naturally intelligent” was an empty courtesy. Could my son really be an idiot? Even Master Rossiat cannot teach him?

“But Master Rossiat...” the Count began grimly.

“No, no, my honored Lord.” The old scholar looked anxious. “I beg you, do not try to keep me. Such an arduous task is beyond my ability!”

The scholar's refusal was firm, and the Count could only smile bitterly. Was educating his son truly such an arduous task? If even this erudite old astrologer could not manage it, there was little hope for anyone else.

Seeing the Count's dark expression, Master Rossiat was terrified too.

If it had merely been odd statements such as “the sun and moon are two great spheres,” those could barely be dismissed as a child's nonsense. But hearing a boy barely five say something like, “The excessive concentration of imperial power is the root cause of corruption,” had nearly stopped the old scholar's heart.

After teaching Du Wei for a year, the scholar knew his student was no idiot. On the contrary, the child was clever—more clever than children his age. But no clever child should discuss a profound topic like imperial power.

Naturally, he assumed these startling opinions were careless remarks the Count had let slip at home, only to be innocently repeated by a child. Count Raymond wielded immense power, ranked second at Imperial Headquarters, and had extensive connections throughout the Imperial Navy. If a man like that privately criticized the concentration of imperial authority, he clearly harbored dissatisfaction with the royal house. And if one followed that thought a step further...

He was only an aging scholar. He had no wish to be dragged into a political struggle. Better to escape while he could.

The Count accepted the old scholar's determined resignation. Rossiat packed his belongings and fled the estate almost at once. The Count could only watch with a bitter smile.

Was his son truly beyond saving?

Du Wei watched silently as the teacher who had been with him for more than a year left. He stood at the attic window and watched the old scholar load his luggage, climb into a carriage, and disappear down the road.

“Young Master.” Seeing that his little master's face did not look well, Ma De cautiously called out. Since he had succeeded in making the young master speak, he had served as Du Wei's personal attendant.

“Ma De.” Du Wei did not turn around, but the despondency in his voice was unmistakable. “Do you think ignorance can be a kind of happiness?”

“Uh?” Ma De did not know how to answer. The former stable hand had little learning, and a question like that was beyond him. Was the young master troubled by his own condition? Ma De did not dare respond.

“Never mind.” Du Wei turned around with what might have been a smile, though a trace of weariness lingered on his small, childish face.

Compared to the people of this world, I know too much.

I know why there are a sun and moon in the sky. I know why day and night alternate, why the seasons turn through the year, why spring goes and autumn comes...

But knowing all that is precisely what troubles me. Perhaps in this world, ignorance is a kind of happiness.