Chapter 96 – Journey to the Kingdom (1)
Baron Pythe was one of those who gained a noble title due to his contributions during the principality's independence.
Originally, the title of baron was not hereditary, however, Baron Pythe had governed his territory better than other barons, and thus received permission from the grand duke to pass down the title.
Of course, that was not the only reason.
Pythe's territory was so underdeveloped that no one else wanted to take on the position of lord. For ambitious nobles, it was seen as exile.
'Lucky, aren't I.'
Baron Pythe preferred a modest life.
Simply drinking a wine that suited his taste was happiness enough, what need was there for ambition. He had long realized his place in the world.
His life was to govern his small domain, raise children with his wife.
Early in the morning.
While drinking his morning coffee and reading the newspaper, Baron Pythe suddenly widened his eyes.
"The Marquis Gardran household has been annihilated?"
The article explained the reason.
The murder of Count Dabirk, human trafficking and kidnapping of villagers—heinous crimes so severe that even royalty could be executed for them.
"Why would one of the pillars of the principality commit such things?"
It was only natural to wonder. A house that lacked nothing—why.
But that thought did not last long.
Whatever the reason, the Marquis Gardran had already been executed by Marquis Ravishrun, and the crimes had been laid bare for all to see.
He must have simply misunderstood what the Gardran house was truly like.
The baron let the matter go. In the first place, the marquis house was so far above him and so unrelated to him that he knew nothing about it.
Then, he saw a familiar name in the newspaper.
Asher.
The mage who had saved his domain several months ago.
"Well, it seems Asher played a big role in exposing the crimes. I knew from the first impression he was extraordinary, but it was far more than I thought."
Baron Pythe had encountered Asher's name in the newspaper several times.
Defeating powerful Undead in the Viron Territory, subjugating an abnormal species rivaling a special variant to save a city, and more.
The baron felt a quiet pride. That he had received Asher's help, and given him proper thanks in return.
Finishing the paper, the baron went out for his usual walk.
Being well past his forties, taking care of his health was essential. He dressed warmly and stepped outside. Snow had not fallen, but the cold was biting.
As he strolled along the castle walls, gazing at the small domain he governed—
"…Hm?"
Someone was walking toward the castle from afar.
He had heard no news of visitors… as the figure came closer, he finally recognized the uninvited guest's face.
"Asher?"
The connection of spring had returned in winter.
***
"Here, a gift."
A top-class red wine worth a staggering twenty million Elk.
It was of a similar variety to the one he had drunk at the baron's banquet, not too strong, with a sweet and tangy flavor.
Naturally, with the price being in an entirely different league, the fragrance and taste would be on another level.
Baron Pythe could not hide his smile.
"My word, you shouldn't have… well then, let's uncork it at once. Let's share a drink, warm ourselves."
"Best to save that. I brought something else for us to drink together."
Verden took another bottle from his spatial bag.
This was also a fine wine, a white one worth several hundred thousand Elk. From his equipment, to the spatial bag, to giving away expensive wine as gifts—he was nothing like the man Baron Pythe had once met.
"Haha, you've certainly risen high."
The baron discreetly handed the gifted wine to a servant, reminding him to store it carefully.
Verden and the baron poured each other glasses, savoring the taste slowly before the fireplace. For accompaniment, the baron had some cheese he had bought the week prior.
As the warmth of the alcohol set in, the baron asked.
"But tell me, why did you suddenly come to see me, bearing such an extravagant gift?"
"There's a favor I'd like to ask."
"A favor, from a mage as great as you. That's almost frightening."
"It's nothing difficult. I'd like an introduction to your nephew."
"My nephew? You mean Medin?"
Verden nodded.
The baron stroked his chin for a moment, then spoke.
"Could it be, you're planning to go to the Kingdom of Estiria?"
"That's correct."
Baron Pythe's nephew, Medin, was in the Kingdom of Estiria.
He worked as a guard for a traveling merchant company called 'Blue Cloud.' The company operated across the entire kingdom, and Medin, having earned the recognition of the master, received a high wage and held a position as an executive—so Verden had heard from Pale.
"May I ask why?"
"Because of the auction house invitation."
"Ah, the auction house. Now it makes sense. Certainly, successful trading companies are prioritized when invitations are distributed. Sometimes extras make their way into the open market. Yes, Medin should be able to get one."
The baron, being of kingdom origin, knew this well.
"That won't be hard. I can do that for you easily. I'll write an introduction letter right away. But… are you sure?"
"About what?"
"You may already know, but the kingdom is not like the principality. To be frank, it's a frightening nation. I haven't been there myself in over twenty years, but every rumor I hear is unsettling. Of course, I know you're an extraordinary mage, but… the malice within the kingdom is not to be underestimated."
He already knew.
From Pale, from the Ark, from the grand duke himself, he had heard just how dark a place the kingdom was.
But that was no reason for Verden to hesitate.
"I'm not to be underestimated either."
At that, the baron chuckled.
"Hahaha, true. You could never be underestimated. I spoke needlessly. Still… allow me to say this once more, out of caution."
The baron's voice grew solemn.
"The kingdom's darkness runs deep."
So, do not let yourself be swallowed by it.
***
With the introduction letter in hand, Verden prepared to depart for the kingdom.
First, he withdrew all his money from the bank. The principality had the Magnus Bank, while the kingdom had the Dyna Bank.
Since the two were not partnered, he had no choice but to carry it in cash.
Bundles of one hundred bills, each worth one hundred thousand Elk—roughly a hundred bundles in total.
He purchased a few sacks and carefully stacked the bundles into his spatial bag. Along with preserved food and other necessities, the bag was nearly full.
'Good thing it carries no weight.'
If it did, he would have collapsed under it.
Then, through Pale, Verden hired an 'international carriage—Icarus.'
A carriage company officially permitted to cross national borders. Costly, yes, but without solid identity verification, one could never use such a service.
"We shall escort you most carefully to the Kingdom of Estiria."
The driver greeted him politely, and Verden stepped into the carriage.
Inside, there was a fixed desk and sofa. The carriage had been remodeled for a single occupant, and it was warm enough to forget it was winter.
Verden reclined on the sofa.
The scenery of the principality drifted past the window. For a time, he would be parting ways with it.
"Then, we depart now, sir."
Clip-clop, clip-clop.
The carriage departed, the scenery rushing past like an arrow.
And so, Verden headed for the Kingdom of Estiria.
***
"The fifth Fang has died."
A chilling voice swept through the space.
After a brief silence, an old man's voice echoed.
"Wasn't Rupel in charge of the experiments with the Red Shard and tracking the Doctor's whereabouts? Then, if he has died…"
"He may have failed."
"Click. How pathetic."
Sharp feminine tones mixed with an arrogant voice.
It was the cold voice that calmed the confusion.
"He did not fail. He merely fell to the Ark."
"Then, the Doctor as well…?"
"Given the circumstances, we must assume both are dead."
A heavy silence pressed upon the chamber.
The resurrection of Gluttony and the birth of the new humanity, such a grand plan had seemed within reach, yet now—like this. No one dared to speak lightly.
Then, the cold voice spoke again, the First Fang of Gluttony.
"The birth of new humanity is thwarted for now. But I have realized that with the Red Shard, the abilities of Gluttony's organs can be awakened. In other words, Gluttony's resurrection is possible."
The experiment data was lost, but they could begin anew.
The method of creating the Red Shard remained. All they needed were the materials.
"Materials, eh. Then what about the Kingdom of Estiria? Though the Ark subjugated it decades ago, perhaps now would be the right time?"
"No. That land has already been tainted by another darkness. If we act rashly, not only will we fail to obtain materials, we will suffer losses instead."
"Then, where shall we go?"
"West."
The First Fang bared his teeth.
"To where Black Hour and the Bohemirn Magic Tower are waging war."
***
From childhood, Verden had been unusual.
Though normally as innocent as any other child, once he set his mind to something, he would accomplish it no matter what. His stubbornness was so strong that even when the orphanage director tried to stop him, there was no way.
Rovellin had watched him grow.
At first it was mere curiosity, but later, it simply became her everyday life. Living together all day, every day, it was impossible not to grow used to him.
Then, one day, Verden became interested in magic.
Likely after seeing the flames kindled in the hand of a neighbor grandfather, once a former war mage. But no matter how much he begged, Verden never received proper teaching in magic.
Any ordinary child would have given up there.
But Verden was different. He applied to the Magic Tower on his own.
Watching him, Rovellin imagined it.
The orphanage without Verden, the emptiness of a future without him.
Her hesitation was brief.
"Then I'll go too."
And so, together they went to the Bohemirn Magic Tower.
Soon enough they were forcibly separated, but whenever she returned from outside magic lessons to the tower, Verden was always waiting.
Despite the harsh reality of limits, he worked tirelessly to fulfill his dream. There were even slanderous rumors of him stealing theories, but nonsense.
The Verden Rovellin knew would never do such a thing. She believed in him unwaveringly.
Thus, she regretted.
Her past self spoke to her present.
'If only that day, by force, I had taken him with me to the magic city, Verden would not have died.'
In the darkening dream, Rovellin's heart was soaked in guilt.
Ssshhk. Rovellin's eyes opened in bed.
Her whole body ached. Looking down, she saw herself wrapped in bandages. Even after drinking potions and being treated by the priests of the Luas Church, she was in this state.
It showed how fierce the battle had been.
Tap. Tap.
Using crutches, she stepped into the corridor. Magic items lit the path at intervals, but nothing compared to before.
The Magic Tower still had not found a replacement for its power source, so the vast corridors remained dim.
As she passed, whispers followed her.
"That's her, the one who reached 4th tier recently? Why does she look like that?"
"They say she fought a mage of Black Hour not long ago."
"Not just any mage, but one who had already reached upper 4th tier. How could someone who just reached 4th tier win?"
"Because of her special trait, obviously. You know how strong Rovellin's flames are."
"She can only use fire magic, but… indeed, mages of the same tier can't stand against her. No wonder the tower master placed her in the subjugation force and values her so highly."
"I saw her fight once, she burned the enemy without leaving a trace. Didn't even blink an eye."
Jealousy, envy, fear—
All sorts of gazes turned upon Rovellin. Ignoring them, she passed through the corridor and entered the temporary mana-powered elevator.
Ascending to the upper floors of the Magic Tower, she came face to face with the tower master.
The tower master, Balrog Bessias, spoke.
"You look better than I expected. So, how was your opponent?"
"No problem."
"Keh-heh-heh, to just reach 4th tier, and yet against an upper 4th tier mage, and of lightning no less, you say no problem. Few mages could say that."
Rovellin quietly recalled the fight a few days prior.
A high-ranking mage of lightning, an upper 4th tier. In both element and tier, Rovellin had no advantage.
She had nearly been killed instantly by Lightning Strike.
But she narrowly dodged, dragging the duel out.
The weakness of lightning magic was its lack of duration. Its destructive power was immense, but the mana consumption equally so. Though she suffered severe burns across her body, Rovellin endured.
In the end, the opponent exhausted himself, and in that gap, she burned him to nothing.
The victor was Rovellin.
"Very well done, Rovellin. In these times, only you and my disciples give me satisfaction."
"Our promise?"
"Promise, yes. Of course I must keep it."
Balrog Bessias took a demon core from a drawer.
"You achieved merits beyond your tier by subjugating a branch of Black Hour. Thanks to your unique trait of specializing in fire magic. Yet you are still immature. You have much to learn, much room to grow. To stagnate in times of crisis for the tower would be a loss."
Therefore—
"I shall help you."
Rovellin received the demon core.
She gazed at it for a moment, then clenched her fist and knelt before the tower master.
"Thank you, Master."
To Balrog Bessias, the demon core meant an investment.
From this moment, Rovellin would receive incomparable support. To become the disciple of the tower master, to be granted the right to succeed him—that was what it meant.
Balrog Bessias laughed.
"Welcome, Rovellin, my fourth disciple."
Rovellin felt no joy.
This was only a means. A means to grow stronger.
Her purpose was only one.
'Verden.'
To erase Black Hour, who had killed him, from this world. Until then, Rovellin's flames would never extinguish.