Chapter 211 – To the Capital (2)
If one were to ask who the true guardian of the Kingdom is, people would point to the Marquisate of Esperanza.
In a kingdom overflowing with corruption and indulgence, the light shines all the brighter.
The prestige held by such a house is untouchable by anyone in the Kingdom, and even the martial might of Marquis Esperanza himself could be challenged by no more than a handful.
The Righteous Path.
Strength and justice, that is the family motto of Esperanza.
But if one were to speak of the strongest in the Kingdom, the gaze would inevitably turn to the royal castle.
The Court Mage Corps of the Royal Ministry of Magic.
Among them, the one who holds the 1st Seat is a trait-holder, a 5th-tier Magus rivaling even Edmon.
The one who commands that corps of mages is none other than Leonil.
A 6th-tier Magus is, in their very existence, a deterrent against war and rebellion. The presence of a single one could alter the tide of battle.
Especially so if he were an elemental mage specialized in destruction—hurling powerful magic from afar alone would turn the battlefield into a slaughterhouse.
The Mad Flame, Leonil Bertanas.
An unprecedented weapon of the Royal Family in the Kingdom's history.
And now, his eyes bloodshot, Leonil revealed his fury.
"How is it possible that the culprit has still not been found!"
The waves of mana pulsed violently.
Crack.
Fissures split across the marble floor and walls. Books, once neatly arranged, scattered across the ground. Ink bottles and glass shattered into pieces.
In the chaos of Leonil's office, the 1st Seat, Heinel, bowed her head.
"Your Excellency, we have deployed every available hand, yet we have found not the slightest trace…"
She stopped.
Heinel immediately shut her mouth.
The killing intent in Leonil's gaze and mana bore down upon her.
"Do you think I spend my time listening to your excuses?"
'We did our best.'
Those are the words Leonil despises most.
We tried hard but fell short, we worked but it wasn't enough.
Such words are nothing but pitiful excuses to wrap failure in false dignity.
Success is success, failure is failure. That is all.
Heinel dropped to her knees.
Cold sweat trickled down her back.
"M-my apologies, Your Excellency."
"…Useless."
Crack.
Grinding his teeth, Leonil placed his hand upon the desk.
The veins of his clenched fist crushed and tore the orderly reports beneath it. Black ink spilled across the desk, reflecting his distorted face.
'Who is it.'
That day, when he had gone to shut down an overseas laboratory, an unknown intruder interfered.
Brick's transmitted spatial coordinates—undeniably, it was a trap.
'To dare send me into the Cave without Light…!'
One of the Kingdom's two great taboos.
In pitch-black darkness, hundreds of monsters suddenly descended upon him.
Of course, such lowly beings could not wound him. He annihilated them and escaped with ease.
But he could not prevent their foul fluids from splattering upon him.
Utterly repulsive. Yet he reined in his reason.
Judging the situation dire, he flew straight to the laboratory where Brick had been.
And found nothing.
An explosion had torn through the place, the facility was wrecked, and the 4th Seat, Brick Medwor, along with two other Court Mages, had vanished without a trace.
It was no accident. It was abduction.
Only then did Leonil have to admit he had been deceived.
Panic, humiliation.
Emotions he was unaccustomed to.
'The accident in the 1st Prince's castle, that too must have been the work of the same culprits.'
Who could it be.
If one were to name the greatest enemy of the Royal Family, the Marquisate of Esperanza would come to mind. Yet there was no physical proof, no true suspicion to hold.
Even Edmon, the finest Magus among the Marquisate's retainers, lacked the ability to tamper with the magic circle and spatial coordinates inside the 1st Prince's castle.
In fact, even Leonil himself could not accomplish that.
It was as though he were trapped in fog.
Not even knowing their purpose, nor if they were man or woman, one or many.
Still, one truth was certain.
There was a force, one that could not be ignored, standing against Leonil and the Royal Family.
And yet.
'The timing is ill for them.'
The experiments had already reached their final stage.
Now, all that was needed was a single human with a trait.
A task that required no elaborate facilities. And right at that moment, news had come from Grond, the King of the Underworld, that he had found a mage who seemed to be a trait-holder.
All that remained was to receive the King of Estiria's sanction.
'So long as the Archbishop's visit passes without issue, the experiment will be complete.'
The result was before his eyes.
Yes, try to interfere as you like.
It will not be stopped.
At that thought, the weight on his chest seemed to ease.
Thud!
The door burst open.
"L-Lord Leonil! Grave news!"
The 2nd Seat of the Court Mages, Rachel.
Her hair and glasses were disheveled, as though she had rushed all the way.
Leonil narrowed his eyes.
"Rachel, what is it that has you in such a frenzy?"
"We have received a message from Archbishop Joseph of the Luas Church…"
"A message? At this hour?"
The matter of his visit to the capital had been settled long ago.
There was little time left before the Archbishop's arrival.
Unless it was to cancel the visit, there was no reason for contact. In truth, Leonil had hoped the Archbishop would not come.
But that hope was betrayed in the worst way.
"This is about an entirely different matter…!"
Rachel explained at once.
The expression on Leonil's face changed in an instant. So too did Heinel's.
Both struck with shock.
"What did you just say…?"
"That… the Archbishop has summoned you as a witness…"
Rachel swallowed once, then shouted aloud.
"The Tower Master of DarkWarton is coming personally to the capital of the Kingdom!"
A transcendent, coming to the Kingdom.
***
Before a full-length mirror, an old man adjusted his attire.
A robe of dark violet. Cold metal decorated with antique design. A fur cloak of a rare beast dyed in pitch-black.
The old man's face was lined with wrinkles.
White hair showed the passing of time, liver spots on his skin revealed the flow of life itself. The face, gaunt with little flesh so that the bones showed through, added to that impression.
Yet it was never ugly.
What one felt was nothing but awe.
Death, the thing most feared by all living beings.
The old man was the one who understood death more than anyone.
"…Master, do you truly mean to go?"
The disciple, standing at a distance, asked.
The old man looked at him through the mirror.
"Is it because of the Luas Church?"
"You know well, do you not, that the Luas Church and black mages are like water and oil. Such a request should have been ignored. Or, at the very least, another should have gone in your stead."
"Water and oil, yes, you speak truth. But let me ask you, why do you think I wish to mingle with the Luas Church?"
"Is it not to change the perception of black mages? To help them, and thus…"
"Wrong."
He shook his head through the mirror.
"What? Then why did you accept the Archbishop's request?"
"Reason, hmm… Have you heard the news of the Cliff of Eternity?"
"The Cliff of Eternity, do you mean…"
"Yes, that legend."
The old man confirmed.
"The world is undergoing upheaval."
Last year, the energy source of the Magic Tower, long thought to be perfect, collapsed. That was the beginning of change.
A battle of transcendents.
In the north of the Eastern Continent, a war with the demi-humans.
In Estiria, a group of black mages appeared, causing diocesan massacres and an Undead crisis. There are more, if one counts even the smaller incidents.
Something is happening.
The old man was certain.
Within years, events will come that will shake the very world. Perhaps events, in the plural.
And beyond that.
"Right now, I sense massive death within the Kingdom."
"…Are you saying war will break out?"
"I cannot tell. I see at least hundreds of thousands of deaths, yet even to me it is vague… half and half. Either it will grow uncontrollably, or not happen at all. Such an amusing prospect."
A strange light flickered in the old man's eyes.
In those cold, deathlike eyes, there was life.
"And I hear a mage aided Warrens. For some reason, I have taken personal interest in him."
The intuition of a transcendent.
That alone was evidence.
"Is that mage the cause of death?"
"I cannot know until I meet him.
But.
"He will not be an ordinary man."
The old man stretched out his hand.
The disciple approached and offered him a staff.
A shaft made from the skull of a dragon slain in ancient times, its tip bearing a crimson jewel radiating dread.
The Magic Tower of black mages, DarkWarton.
A symbol of death, handed down from master to master since long ago.
The old man grasped the staff and commanded.
"Open the tower."
The Tower Master of DarkWarton.
The Necromancer of the age, set forth for the Kingdom.
***
The duel between Verden and Karans was fierce.
From morning until noon they clashed several times, their battles growing harsher with each passing day. The cost of potions was not small, but it was a necessary expense.
The miracles of the Luas Church are for humans alone.
Karans, being of another race, could not receive such healing, and for some unknown reason Verden too was excluded from their effects.
When grievous injuries came, they wrapped themselves in bandages, rested, and healed naturally. Then they resumed their sparring, day after day.
As a result.
"Let us rest today, brother…"
Karans collapsed flat on his back.
No bait of food would rouse him now. With his body bound in bandages, he was exhausted both in body and spirit.
'He lasted longer than I expected.'
Thanks to that, the battle experience he sought had been gained.
The same must be true for Karans. There was nothing more to be gained, so sparring further was pointless, save on rare occasion.
Just then, Perne approached.
"Sir Asher, word has come from the Marquisate of Esperanza."
Likely about the Archbishop.
Perfect timing.
"The message?"
"'Board the airship and head to the capital, come to the main estate within four days…' It was sent directly by the Marquis of Esperanza."
Four days, more than enough time to leave leisurely.
"Then I leave Karans in your care while I am gone. He should cause no trouble, so little need to worry."
"Do not worry. I am already used to him."
He had told Perne in advance that Karans was an Elf.
It was she who had forged a false identity so Karans could live long in Asern. A skilled broker was useful in many ways.
"And the reports from the relic exploration team…"
"I will check them in between, and contact you only if something urgent arises, yes? I will. So do not worry, and go safely."
She no longer told him not to cause friction.
Perne's way of thinking was centered on Verden's actions. Her heart was not easily shaken by ordinary matters.
It was not only Verden who had grown.
Verden nodded, and raised his glass.
***
Verden, flying across the skies, arrived at the Marquis' domain.
Moving alone, it had taken him less than two days. A few months earlier, when the flight ban was in effect, it would have taken many times longer.
'Time flies quickly.'
He felt it keenly.
Passing through the main gate, he entered the Marquisate's estate.
Walking the path through the broad garden, he saw a familiar figure.
The only daughter of the Marquis, Calia.
She turned her head from the flowerbeds of summer.
Her crimson eyes fell upon Verden.
"You came without delay, Asher."
"Are you well?"
"I was unwell for some time. But light rehabilitation has cured me. Thanks to you."
The two strolled through the garden.
"We will travel by the Marquisate's airship. As requested by the Luas Church, we have taken aboard all the injured from the diocese. And Warrens as well."
"Warrens condition remains the same?"
"Since you removed the magic circle, he has yet to regain his senses. That the Luas Church asked us to bring him may mean they intend to heal his mind."
"Or perhaps hand him to the Magic Tower."
"That too. As a black mage of DarkWarton, and moreover one who aided in the Glory of the Dead, no great harm should come to him. In any case, it is out of our hands now."
Calia shrugged.
As they talked, their steps carried them before the mansion. A luxurious carriage stood waiting.
"Let us depart at once. Father is already waiting aboard the airship."
Already?
"Did I arrive late?"
"On the contrary, a day early. And I had expected you about this time."
"If I had arrived on time…"
"You are already by my side. What need is there for such a meaningless supposition."
Calia boarded the carriage.
She beckoned with a pale hand for him to join her.
'I thought to see Linus before leaving.'
It would have to wait.
No, perhaps better to wait until the staff was completed. Even a secret visit might disturb the work.
'Yes, that will be best.'
Patience, endure.
Once he returned from the capital, the long-awaited staff would be finished.
Verden climbed into the carriage.
The door closed, the driver cracked the reins.
The path led to the airship.
The destination, the capital.