Chapter 212 – The Calm Before the Storm (1)
A cozy chamber, with dim lighting settled down.
Reddish, beast-fur bedding. On the canopy bed, decorated with thin black curtains that faintly let in the outside light, three people were lying.
Two women, asleep in the nude.
At the center of them, a man with dark brown hair stirred awake.
"Ugh..."
His head throbbed.
His body felt quite uncomfortable.
Was it from drinking too much the night before?
Or was it the excessive movement of his waist? From experience, it was most likely both.
Gulp, gulp.
The man downed cold water, then stepped off the bed.
Wearing nothing, he headed straight into the bath. As he soaked himself in the hot water that the servants had prepared, a deep groan escaped his lips.
His stomach churned and his vision swayed, but it was fine.
Even this, once accustomed, was a kind of stimulation. After indulging in such uneasy pleasure to his heart's content, he wrapped himself in a robe and stepped outside.
Humming, he walked toward the parlor.
"Still as shameless as ever, Lotnil."
"Ah, damn it...!"
The man, Lotnil, flinched in surprise.
He turned toward the voice. A man with tawny hair, dressed in splendid garments, sat on the sofa.
With an exceedingly arrogant posture.
"When... since when have you been there, Brother Valrgna?"
"Quiet, just sit. I have something to say."
A blunt command.
Lotnil scowled as he sank onto the sofa opposite.
The Royal Family of Estiria.
First Prince, Valrgna Bain di Estiria.
Second Prince, Lotnil Renber di Estiria.
The two brothers faced each other.
"You must be busy with the Archbishop and the tower master, so what is it you came here to tell me? Seeing as you barged in without notice, it can't be some trifling matter. It's not like we're the sort to have a cozy tea time together."
"I told you to fix that insolent tone."
"...Anyone would think you've already taken the throne."
Lotnil muttered under his breath.
To Valrgna, who valued authority, it was grating, but he endured. He hadn't come here for such petty squabbles.
Silence passed for a brief moment.
"Lotnil Renber di Estiria."
"My name, why...."
"Why do you want to be king?"
Suddenly?
"Isn't it simple? If I become king, this kingdom will be in my hands. Money, power, and women, all of it."
"Women, yes. From the beginning, your greatest interest has always been women. Unable to restrain your lust, whether servant or noble's daughter, you bedded every woman around you, and never once took responsibility, that's who you are, Lotnil."
"Well, nothing new there."
"I'm talking about your nature. And I came here, to make you an offer that you'd find very enticing."
"An offer... I don't know what it is, but you have piqued my curiosity. Since you came in person, I'll hear it."
He leaned in slightly.
Valrgna bent forward, and whispered like a snake.
"Silis. I'll give her to you."
"…Ha."
Lotnil covered his mouth with a hand.
"Brother, you're saying something very dangerous. Silis, though she has a different mother, shares the same father. She is our precious half-sister, how can you say that?"
"I've long known you desire Silis. To be honest, it's not something I can't understand. Even if she's no more than a doll, her beauty is unrivaled. And half-sister? You, who even seduced a relative noblewoman in secret, dare speak of blood ties?"
"You've done your homework. Seems you know me better than I know myself."
First Princess Silis.
She was a woman close to perfection. Even if she had become a vegetable after an accident in her childhood, her beauty still shone brilliantly.
Like a jewel that would never fade.
For a political marriage, there could be nothing better.
It was obvious that any man would desire her. At first sight, they'd want to claim her wholly for themselves. The Second Prince was no different.
Lotnil smirked.
"What's the price?"
"Publicly renounce your right to succession. Do that, and not only Silis but other women as well, I will let you reign as the kingdom's second in command."
"Ohh, that's surprisingly generous of you, brother. The second seat, plus women. I admit, it's tempting."
"Then..."
"But, didn't I already tell you?"
His fangs glinted faintly.
"If I become king, I can have everything."
"..."
"Even if you have the king of the underworld at your back, my faction is no less. Nearly half of the nobility supports me. Why do you think they call me the prince of high society? True, my mother's influence had a large hand in that."
The King of Estiria had four queens.
Three had passed away, and only the Second Queen, Lotnil's mother, still lived. As the mistress of the royal household, her influence over high society could not be ignored.
The First Prince's gaze grew cold.
"The Kingdom of Estiria has always followed the tradition of eldest-son succession."
"Tradition, yes. But not anymore. Father doesn't care at all who inherits the throne. Are you perhaps afraid? That you might lose to me?"
Bang!
Valrgna slammed the table.
"Lotnil, do you truly think you can handle me?"
"Why wouldn't I?"
The air sank heavily.
Soon Valrgna rose, striding out of the chamber.
Lotnil exhaled deeply.
"So, he wants to settle things quickly, not waste time cutting down my faction little by little. Tch, I can't afford to be idle."
Though he had provoked Valrgna, in truth, Lotnil was at a disadvantage.
Vintert of Roafra.
The power of the underworld's king was like that of a small nation. Facing it recklessly would leave him defenseless.
Alone, it was impossible.
Lotnil thought of his younger brother.
Third Prince, Evers.
A fallen contender for the throne.
"I heard he was crushed by the Marquisate of Esperanza."
Still, he was usable enough.
Absorbing what remained of Evers's faction would strengthen Lotnil's power, at least in the open. In the political arena, he clearly held the advantage.
Unless some great variable arose, the victor was all but decided.
"The throne is mine, Brother Valrgna."
The image of himself as ruler of a kingdom was vivid.
Lotnil could not hold back a grin as he returned to his bedchamber.
The cries of women were heard.
***
Inside the Esperanza Marquisate's airship.
Tension filled the air, as Verden and Edmon faced each other.
When the blue-eyed man shifted his gaze to the left, sweat trickled down Edmon's cheek.
"Asher, are you... serious?"
"Yes."
An unwavering reply.
To turn back that firm resolve would be difficult.
But Edmon was confident in persuasion.
"I'll give you another chance. So..."
Snap.
Verden's hand brushed swiftly.
When he looked, what Edmon had held was gone, tossed onto the desk.
"It's over."
"Damn it!"
A game of thieves.
Edmon had lost.
"Again, again I lose... Come now, just once more!"
"It's getting excessive."
"Old man Edmon, seven defeats in a row. Don't you think it's time to stop?"
Verden and Calia refused.
There was no respect for elders in cards. Just as Edmon drooped his head in despair, begging for a rematch, an alarm rang through the airship.
"We must be near the capital. I'll step out for a moment."
"I'll come with you."
"Wait, just one more round..."
Leaving Edmon behind, they walked to the deck.
As the airship descended beneath the clouds, a city came into view.
"It's been so long since I've come here. Look, Asher."
Calia pointed ahead.
As Asher turned, towering thick walls and the tightly packed buildings within were bathed in sunlight.
"The capital of the principality, Ridron. It's more than I imagined."
A kingdom was truly a kingdom.
What stood out most was the broad forest in the city's center. Looking higher, amidst the forest stood a grand royal castle.
The royal capital, Letia.
At last, they had arrived at their destination.
***
Clop, clop.
The Marquis's carriage rolled down the streets of the capital.
The bustle of the metropolis sounded from outside, but it was no longer anything surprising. Verden had grown accustomed to life outside the magic tower, more than a year now.
Across from him, the Marquis of Esperanza spoke.
"Asher, and Calia. You two will be invited to the castle, but the meeting with the Archbishop will be held one-on-one."
"Is there a reason for that?"
"It is by Archbishop Joseph's request. Likely he fears you might be swayed by the presence of nobles. Needless worry, though."
Calia had long been executing criminals.
Among those she had captured, nobles were not few.
And Verden was a Mage that even Edmon could not measure.
Without hesitation, he had accepted commissions that set him against the royal family, even slaying a court mage. He had entrapped Leonil as well.
Neither of them had reason to fear nobles.
At any rate—
"You need only explain the situation to the Archbishop. Just be thorough, and speak of everything, including that group called the Glory of the Dead."
"Understood."
"Yes, Father."
While they conversed, they arrived at the mansion.
It would be their residence while in the capital. As they followed the butler after disembarking, Calia whispered from behind.
"Asher, do you have any business of your own in the capital?"
"None."
"Is that so. Then..."
That was when hurried footsteps echoed.
They stopped, turning their heads. A knight of the Red Conviction came running.
"Forgive me, my lord. An urgent message has come from the castle."
"Speak."
The butler tactfully withdrew.
Though Verden and Calia were present, the Marquis waved his hand as if it was fine. The knight reported the message precisely.
"...What?"
Shock and disbelief.
All three reacted the same.
***
Night in the royal capital.
Verden sat by the window.
He gazed at the soft moonlight, and the distant glow of the mana stone lamps, sinking deep into thought.
Of the ten magic towers, one of the top three, DarkWarton.
It ranked higher than the Bohemirn magic tower where Verden once belonged. Naturally, the tower master ruling over it was an absolute being who had reached Transcendence.
'From what I've heard, he pioneered the way of magic related to death.'
He dredged up memories of the past.
The tower master of DarkWarton.
A black Magus, called the Interpreter of Death, inheritor of the title Necromancer. His rank was unknown, his very name, also unknown.
Only fragments of the surface were known, the rest veiled in secrecy.
'That such a being is coming here.'
Other than the Bohemirn tower master, this would be his first time facing a Transcendent.
A thrill he could not contain echoed quietly within him.
Any mage, any Magus, anyone who desired to become a Transcendent, would have felt the same. Even Edmon had been left with his mouth gaping, his voice lost for a time.
Though Verden's outward reaction was relatively composed, within, he was no different.
One question rose in his mind again and again.
'What is the gap, between me as I am now, and a Transcendent?'
He did not believe it was something he could catch up to, in less than two years.
He was merely curious.
Would he be able to feel the sublime realm, the overwhelming might that eclipsed even a 5th-tier mage? Would he be able to reach, even the tips of a Transcendent's feet?
Such curiosity swelled, and lodged deep in his heart.
Soon it would be answered.
'...I look forward to it.'
Verden, gazing outside, lay sleepless through the night.
With the sudden news of the Transcendent's visit, the entire mansion seemed to hold its breath.
A faint, pervasive silence. Those who understood, even a little, what a Transcendent was, could feel the weight of it.
The clock's hand ticked on, without pause.
At last, the awaited day arrived.