“Lord Luke Arvale, your gift is...” The priest trailed off, then stammered out, “Village-Making.”
The entire room fell silent. Many vassals were gathered in the largest cathedral of Marquess Edel Arvale’s domain. Both of the marquess’s sons were receiving their Blessings at the same time, so it was naturally an important ceremony that had attracted citizens from both the march and the domains beyond.
“V-Village-Making? What kind of gift is that?!” I blurted, unintentionally raising my voice.
That’s right—I’m Luke Arvale.
As Marquess Arvale’s eldest son, I’d known since I was little that everyone around me held high hopes that I’d one day take my father’s title.
So the Blessing I’d receive at this ceremony was vital.
“I-I don’t know...” the priest admitted reluctantly. “I’ve never actually heard of anyone receiving this gift before. Even so, I’m quite certain it won’t be a useful skill on the battlefield...”
“N-No way...”
Suddenly, everything went dark, and I struggled to breathe.
In the silence, I felt like I could hear the sighs of disappointment and resentment from the vassals gathered around me. “So this is the end for Lord Luke. All that hope, wasted. All our years of service were for nothing!”
Not everyone received a gift from the gods; they were only bestowed upon the chosen ones on their twelfth birthdays.
At that moment, the gift the world needed most was one that would be helpful in battle. It was a turbulent time marked by the decline of the royal family’s power and a perpetual struggle between feudal lords trying to seize each other’s lands. Naturally, lords and their offspring—who often led their troops into battle—saw combat-type gifts as incredibly valuable.
My father possessed a gift called Sword Mastery, a higher form of Sword Proficiency. The strength and the bravery he displayed each time he charged into battle were renowned at home and abroad.
Originally the son of a viscount, he had elevated the family to the rank of marquess and expanded its domain to rival those of the other powerful feudal lords in a single generation. It was no overstatement to say it was all thanks to that gift.
Gifts from the gods were highly influenced by heredity, so I’d been expecting to receive Sword Mastery like my father, especially because my mother possessed Sword Proficiency. In a situation like that, a child had more than an eighty percent chance of receiving Sword Mastery.
I hesitantly looked up at Father.
Until a few moments ago, he had been gazing at me with anticipation. Now his face was expressionless, as if he’d lost all interest in me.
Then I looked at Mother, who’d lifted her face toward the heavens as if in a trance.
“Get out of the way, Brother,” my younger brother Raoul said. “It’s my turn next. Hurry up and move.”
I bit my lip as he pushed me out of the way. He was actually my half brother, since I was the son of Father’s wife and Raoul was the son of Father’s concubine.
Raoul’s mother had been a castle maid, which lowered her social status. She had no gifts, which meant her son had less than a ten-percent chance of inheriting Sword Mastery. Not only that, he had only a fifty-fifty chance of even inheriting Sword Proficiency.
So, unlike me, few people had high expectations of him.
“Lord Raoul Arvale, your gift is... O-Oh, my! Sword Mastery!”
“Oooooh!”
The cathedral erupted in celebration when Raoul was granted the same gift as Father, a reaction that couldn’t have been more different from when I’d received mine.
Father rushed over to Raoul and embraced him with a broad smile. His mother wept tears of joy, while my mother looked like she was in the depths of despair.
My world had completely changed, and all I could do was stand there in complete shock.
“I’m leaving, Father and Mother,” I murmured sadly, preparing to board the carriage.
Of course, my parents hadn’t come to see me off, nor had any of the vassals. I’d betrayed their expectations. Not only was I no longer my father’s successor, but I’d been banished to the backcountry. So why would they have come to say goodbye?
After all, the vassals had only served me to begin with because I’d been the marquess’s son and the future lord of this domain.
Even though I had always known the truth deep down, I still felt so...empty.
My destination was an uninhabited, desolate stretch of land in the northern part of the March of Arvale. Not only was it dangerous and infested with monsters, but its soil was so infertile that the region had been abandoned. Now, it was a total wasteland.
A wasteland I had been ordered to reclaim.