At Lucian's conjecture, Tristan was left speechless.
Not a feint, but a genuine attack on Greve City to secure sacrifices—
while the Imperial Liberation Front remained deployed around Bornholm Castle?
"Is that really possible?"
"It is. To begin with, what do you think the mages' objective is? I don't mean black mages, but ordinary unregistered mages."
"To reclaim the old glory they enjoyed three hundred years ago."
"Yes, that's usually the case. Which is precisely why the Imperial Liberation Front won't suspect the mages. They'll believe the status the mages desire lies in the new society the Front intends to build."
If the cooperating party were ordinary mages, then in order to obtain what they wanted, they would have to elevate the Imperial Liberation Front.
If the Empire that ruled the continent refused to accept them, then a new order would have to be established.
But if the mage in question was a black mage—someone who didn't care about status at all—the story changed.
No matter who held power, the treatment would be the same, so all they had to do was take what they wanted and disappear.
"The Imperial Liberation Front will firmly believe they won't be betrayed, and the black mage will exploit that belief. By the time they realize they've been deceived, it'll already be too late. What could they even do then?"
Above all, in his previous life, this incident had been thoroughly covered up.
In other words, it hadn't been large enough to make concealment impossible.
If Bornholm Castle—a strategic stronghold and impregnable fortress—had been destroyed, there would have been no way to hide it.
It made far more sense that the affair ended with nothing more than a monster attack on Greve City.
"Well, fortunately, there's no need to request support from the imperial family. With a plan of this scale, the forces we currently have are more than enough to respond."
"…That's true."
Only after hearing that final remark did a faint smile form on Tristan's lips.
With his greatest concern resolved, he seemed genuinely satisfied.
"Now that the black mage's objective has become clear, we should strengthen Greve City's defenses. We must do it as quietly as possible, so the enemy doesn't notice—"
"No. We won't move any troops. Keep it secret from the others and continue maintaining vigilance against the Imperial Liberation Front as we have until now."
"…What?"
Lucian couldn't help but ask again.
What was he talking about?
They knew the enemy's objective, yet he was saying they would do nothing and simply maintain the status quo?
"Did you actually listen to what I just explained?"
"Of course. Including the fact that they may be capable of using magic powerful enough to destroy the castle walls."
"And how does that not matter? Their target is Greve City anyway, isn't it?"
"If the black mage went to Greve City for sacrifices but finds it heavily defended, do you think he'll keep targeting it? In my view, once he realizes he can breach the walls, he'll go after Bornholm Castle instead—especially since its forces will be thinned."
A hollow laugh escaped Lucian's lips.
Only now did he fully understand what Tristan was saying.
"You intend to offer up Greve City as sacrifices?"
"Even if they're black mages, there are only two of them. Without a proper army, there's a limit to how many sacrifices they can obtain. At best, after a monster attack, they'd kidnap a few dozen people amid the chaos."
"A few dozen people. And if you count those killed in the process, it'll be even more."
"But it's also the way to ensure the smallest overall damage. Above all, monster attacks aren't exactly rare. Even the imperial family won't find it suspicious."
For Tristan, the worst possible outcome was an imperial witch hunt sweeping through the area around Bornholm.
That alone would amount to interference in internal affairs, tarnish Valdeck's honor, and cause enormous losses in both property and lives.
Compared to that, a black mage's procurement of sacrifices was something that could be kept within manageable bounds.
If he had to choose, Tristan believed it was better to allow the latter—and then cover it up.
"Even if there's a monster attack, Greve City won't be completely devastated. Of course, it'll be a disaster for the civilians, but at most it'll end with three or four hundred casualties. Even without our support, they'll deal with it themselves."
"Do you realize those three or four hundred are Valdeck's people? And you're someone aiming for the position of next head of the family, yet you're willing to offer my people up as sacrifices?"
"If the existence of mages becomes known to the imperial family, those three or four hundred could be burned to death by the Imperial Guard. Wouldn't it be better for them to fall to monsters and black mages than to suffer such a fate at the hands of their own sovereign?"
The former would be the unjust deaths of innocents; the latter, he framed as the honorable deaths of the unfortunate.
At that twisted logic, Lucian ground his teeth and glared at Tristan.
"If that's truly your stance, then I'll at least take the mercenaries under my command and stop it myself."
"No."
"Not even the knight order—just a band of mercenaries—and you still won't allow it? Is the imperial family really that frightening to you?"
"No. It's because you cannot go. I won't send you into danger."
For a moment, Lucian wondered if he had misheard him.
Had there been some brotherly affection between the previous Lucian and Tristan?
"You are a Valdeck. How can someone of ducal blood expose himself to danger? Do not forget the blood flowing through your veins, and choose your path with care."
That illusion shattered in mere seconds.
At the absurd answer, Lucian pressed a hand to his throbbing head.
This man… is an aristocrat to the bone.
He had known people like this in his previous life—
those who believed that noble blood deserved respect in and of itself, and that even a sworn mortal enemy should be treated according to their rank.
Commoners would be cut down just for stepping on a noble's shadow, while nobles could lay waste to dozens of territories and have it end with nothing more than house arrest.
"The bloodline of Valdeck carries a weight unlike any other. Those who rule are always forced to make decisions, to place lives on a scale and weigh them. Do not squander your own life over such trivial compassion."
Though it was advice clearly tinged with concern, a surge of anger rose violently within Lucian.
At this very moment, Tristan was saying that Lucian's single life was worth more than three or four hundred others.
But that was only true now.
In his previous life, Lucian had always been one of those three or four hundred—
the lives that were discarded.
Suppressing the boiling rage, Lucian looked Tristan straight in the eye and spoke.
"I'm sorry, but I can't accept that. I'm going."
"Are you planning to bring up a noble's duty?"
"No. I don't care about a noble's duty."
After steadying his breath, Lucian finally voiced the words he had kept buried deep in his heart ever since his reincarnation—
the one conviction he had always held, from the perspective of a commoner rather than a noble.
"If you can't protect the people you demand loyalty from, then you never had the right to rule anyone in the first place."
Tristan's face twisted sharply.
What Lucian had just said was a direct denial of the very foundation of aristocratic ideology.
Gritting his teeth, Tristan glared at Lucian and shouted,
"You've read too many hero tales! You're drunk on self-importance and blind to reality! You'd decide a matter of the family's utmost importance based on such a cheap sense of aesthetics!?"
"Yes. That's exactly what I intend to do."
"What did you say?"
"Brother—this is disgraceful."
At those few words, Tristan's mind went completely blank.
There was nothing illegal about it, nothing that would blemish the contest for next head of the family, nor any tangible damage at all.
It was merely a judgment of what was "ugly" or "disgraceful," arbitrarily declared by a half-witted younger brother.
No more than that.
And yet—
"How dare you…!"
Before he realized it, Tristan's hand went to the sword at his waist.
But before the blade could be drawn, Raymond stepped in front of him.
"Please calm yourself, First Young Master."
"Step aside! This is none of your concern!"
"I am charged with guarding the Third Young Master by order of the Grand Duke. To lay a hand on him now would be to defy not only my duty, but the Grand Duke's will itself."
At Raymond's warning, Tristan clenched his teeth.
In the end, trembling with humiliation, he released his grip on the sword.
He had no chance of defeating the Black Lion anyway—and Raymond's warning was no empty threat.
"…Very well. The mercenaries are yours, so take them if you wish! But you will bear full responsibility for the consequences of your choice!"
"I intended to."
Lucian left the office without batting an eye.
After they had gone some distance, he glanced sideways at Raymond.
"Why did you stop him? Even if you hadn't, I could've handled it myself."
"My duty is to guard you. Whether it's something you can handle or not, failing to stop a threat is a failure in itself. And…"
After briefly scanning their surroundings, Raymond lowered his voice as if sharing a secret.
"…Honestly, even I thought the First Young Master's argument was rather disgraceful."
"Pfft—!"
Lucian couldn't hold it in and burst out laughing.
At first, he'd thought Raymond was simply a man who took his duties seriously, but it turned out he had a surprisingly pleasant side.
"So then, what do you plan to do now, Third Young Master?"
"What else? I already told you."
After laughing his fill, Lucian spoke with a deep, confident smile.
"We gather Hugo and the remaining Black Lions and head to Greve City. Unlike my brother—we'll do it properly."
***
Three days later, at the edge of the Yellow Forest near Greve City.
At the boundary of the forest, where only faint light filtered through, two shadows wavered.
One wore a tattered black robe, the other a faded hood.
From the middle-aged man in the black robe came a sinister voice.
"Ah, wonderful. Simply wonderful. It's been so long since the mana was this abundant. Thanks to those foolish Imperial Front bastards, I'm reaping quite the benefit."
"…It's not the Imperial Front—it's the Imperial Liberation Front, Lord Jude. Saying it that way completely changes the meaning."
"What does the name of the sponsor matter? Honestly, young mages these days worry about the strangest things. Or is that a trait of the Celestial School? Studying every last star in the heavens—how obsessively meticulous."
At the middle-aged man's cackling laughter, the young mage, Colin, felt a chill run down his spine.
Just hearing that laugh made him feel as though blood and flesh were sticking unpleasantly to his skin.
I've heard plenty of stories about black mages… but I never imagined they'd feel this revolting.
Colin had first met the black mage called Jude through an introduction by the Imperial Liberation Front.
When he was suddenly told that they would be working together, Colin was taken aback—but he had no way to refuse.
After all, they were the ones shielding him from the Empire's pursuit.
At the time, I thought I just had to endure it for a few weeks.
Things began to take a strange turn when Jude started demanding living sacrifices.
Colin knew nothing about the Beast School, but he did know one thing: magic that required sacrifices belonged only to black magic.
The actions Jude carried out afterward under the pretense of "rituals" weren't merely a difference in school—they were fundamentally twisted.
Unable to endure it any longer, Colin confronted Jude directly.
—You… you're a black mage, aren't you?
—Indeed I am.
—I already suspected it, so you're not even trying to hide—what?
—I said yes. I'm a black mage. Why? Surprised that I admit it so readily?
Unexpectedly, Jude didn't deny being a black mage at all.
No—he openly admitted it, even smiling slyly as he did.
—Now that you know I'm a black mage, what will you do? Tell them?
—Of course! No matter how much the Empire hunts me, working with a black mage is—!
—That's troublesome. Then I suppose I'll have to kill you and run.
—W-What!?
—What choice do I have? If I'm exposed, it's obvious they'll try to kill me first. Fortunately, your direct combat ability is weak—someone like me could kill you quite easily.
At the blood-red mana gathering in Jude's hand, Colin was seized by terror.
This wasn't a knight strengthening his body, but a mage's characteristic method of wielding mana externally.
The moment that surging power was unleashed, it was obvious a fist-sized hole would be blown straight through Colin's stomach.
Shivering in terror at the prospect of death, Colin was met with Jude's cold smile as the man whispered to him.
—Don't be like that. As long as you don't tell them, I have no intention of killing you.
—Wh-What do you want? What do you expect me to do?
—What do I want? Just mages helping each other survive in this harsh world. Even if our fields of study differ, we're still of the same kind, aren't we?
—Stop speaking in circles and be specific. I'm not very eloquent.
—Simple. Just form a single mana pact with me.
A mana pact.
A magical contract that permanently halved one's magical power the moment its terms were violated.
With his nose effectively led by a ring, Colin had no choice but to enter into a mana pact with Jude.
Fortunately—or so it seemed—the terms of the pact were exceedingly simple.
—Just travel with me, and when I ask, cast one spell for me.
—…Isn't that too simple? Is that really all?
—Are you dissatisfied even when it's in your favor?
—I'm just curious what you're really thinking. Normally, people add all sorts of conditions to prevent the contract from being twisted. This feels dangerously lax.
—Ha ha! And if you twist it and I don't like the result—are you confident you can deal with the consequences afterward?
At the sight of the dark red mana surging again, Colin was left speechless.
Indeed, if he failed to fulfill Jude's wishes properly, Jude would simply blast him to death on the spot.
For Colin, it was a case of swallowing bitter medicine with tears in his eyes—he had no choice but to abide by the contract.
So far, Jude had been moving in line with the Imperial Liberation Front's intentions without any real trouble.
If things continued like this, maybe he could complete the job successfully and return safely.
That fragile hope had just begun to take shape in Colin's mind.
"Alright, then. Shall we start attacking Greve? I've rounded up every creature I can control, so securing sacrifices shouldn't be difficult."
"What? No—Greve City is only supposed to be a diversion—"
"That's their problem, not mine. I plan to feast on sacrifices here and then slip away. The rest is for them to deal with."
Colin stared at Jude with a deathly pale face.
Had he been pretending to follow orders all this time, waiting for this moment?
Suddenly, Colin recalled the mana pact.
"Wait—when you said the spell you want from me, don't tell me you mean…?"
"Exactly. If things get dicey, you'll fire off one big shot using all the mana you've been storing up. Make it easier for my cute little mutts to get in."
"You insane bastard…!"
The unexpected demand made Colin's vision swim.
Helping monsters attack a city and abduct people—of all things?
And to screw over the Imperial Liberation Front this thoroughly?
At this rate, he wouldn't just be an enemy of the Empire—he'd become a public enemy to everyone.
"Well, don't worry too much. You're just insurance, after all. Greve's defenses are pitiful anyway, so if things go well, my darlings alone should be more than enough."
Even Jude's so-called reassurance did nothing to ease Colin's dread.
If he didn't use magic, he'd remain bound by the contract indefinitely.
Either way, it was a cliff edge with no escape.
"Grrrr…"
"Keeeek!"
"Oh? Looks like you're all eager for the taste of blood. Just wait a little longer. I'll let you run wild soon enough."
Leaving the despairing Colin behind, Jude stroked the drooling gnolls and kobolds.
They were clearly mindless puppets, yet the way he pretended to commune with them was revolting to behold.
"Now, go! Enjoy your feast! And don't forget the sacrifices you must offer in return!"
"Kyaaaaaaah!"
"Graaaargh!"
Thud thud thud thud thud—
No sooner had the command left his mouth than the hordes of gnolls and kobolds hiding in the rear burst out of the forest.
The frenzied monster pack shook the ground as they charged en masse toward Greve City.
Clearly pleased by the sight, Jude threw his head back and laughed.
"Hahahaha! Do you see it? Isn't it magnificent! An army of monsters stronger than humans! The culmination of my research! My power—and my slaves!"
Madness clung to Jude's peals of laughter.
Startled by that sound, Colin instinctively took a few steps back.
When the gnoll and kobold horde reached the outskirts of Greve City, Jude even clapped his hands in delight.
"Look at them! How they panic and scatter! Those fools who strutted about within their flimsy order, now being ravaged by my precious darlings—how truly… how truly…?"
Drunk on his sense of victory, Jude suddenly sensed something was wrong and froze mid-sentence.
Colin, too, looked toward where the monsters were headed, wondering what had happened.
And before he could stop himself, he voiced what he saw.
"From where I'm standing, it looks like your precious darlings are the ones being ravaged…"
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