Chapter 49
The story continues off the page
The Last Dance Before Midnight
A masked dragon asks the lanternwright for one slow dance
Central Serdes
In the middle of a broad, perfectly level plain, a castle stood tall.
The land was fertile and open enough to be ideal for fields, but all that grew there was grass—a green meadow.
There was no sign that humans or any other living creatures inhabited the surrounding area.
It looked like an island set upon a sea of green.
That was Blancaros’s territory, as well as the Grand Council Hall that handled affairs across the entire continent.
Commonly known as the White House.
Ferda had arrived there.
‘Is it up ahead?’
Ferda looked up at the castle gate.
The gate was already open.
To ordinary people with the naked eye, that was all there was to see, but those accustomed to mana, like Ferda, could see it.
In front of the gate, a translucent white curtain had been erected like a barrier in the shape of a circular dome.
Order and territory.
As long as those two conditions were met, no one could defy Blancaros within his territory.
Not even a god.
“You may rest assured.”
A young man’s voice came from beyond the gate.
Ferda turned toward the voice and saw a man standing there.
“Lord Blancaros is generous toward those who uphold rules and order.”
Ferda looked the man over.
Snow-white clothes and snow-white skin.
His pallid appearance called a vampire to mind.
If not for his pair of horns and eyes, that was.
The man placed a hand over his chest and introduced himself.
“My apologies for the late introduction. I am Blancaros’s Hand, and I have been assigned to guide you, Lord Ferda.”
As expected, he was one of Blancaros’s spawns.
Blancaros had three spawns in total: the Hand, the Mouth, and the Eye.
Each was named for a body part, and each specialized in that particular function.
Unlike most other dragon spawns, they were friendly.
“Please come inside. I shall guide you.”
They also could not leave Blancaros’s territory.
“I see.”
Ferda reached a hand into the territory.
At that moment, he felt something like tiny particles burrowing between his skin.
Soon, Ferda noticed something strange about the movement of the Circle residing in his lower abdomen.
It was gradually slowing down.
Rather than catching on something foreign, however, it slowed naturally, as though Ferda himself were voluntarily relaxing his strength.
‘How astonishing.’
An absolute domain.
Because that absolute authority applied even to Blancaros himself, it was incomparably delicate and sturdy.
Yet that suppression did not lead to complete nullification.
The message it conveyed was clear.
‘Try to harm me if you can.’
But there would be no avoiding Blancaros’s staff.
Not while being denied even the slightest shred of an excuse.
It was meant to emphasize that point.
‘I should still be able to move Shadow Hand.’
His concentration was also interfered with when creating a magic circle, but that would not matter if he did not create one.
That was precisely why he had learned Shape of Shadow—for situations like this.
Ferda glanced behind him.
Zed and Arwen, who had followed him, also looked uncomfortable.
“What does it feel like to step into the territory?”
“It doesn’t feel very good. I suppose you could call it helplessness. My eyes feel a little dry too.”
“I feel the same. It feels as though some of my strength has left me. I don’t seem to be able to use aura, either….”
The knight, Arwen, could not use aura, while Zed’s unique ability, possessed only by the Red-Eyed, was being obstructed.
“Luri, what about you?”
“Nothing unusual.”
“Is that so?”
The conversation ended simply.
But anyone watching the two of them would have found it strange enough.
Arwen subtly tilted his head toward Zed and asked,
“Did something happen between that spawn lady and the Regent?”
“I don’t know. I’ve decided not to get involved.”
When dragons fight, humans get crushed.
Having already experienced that once, Zed shuddered.
“There are five hours left until the meeting begins. Would you like to go to your room? Or would you prefer the banquet hall?”
“What’s the difference?”
“Rest or socializing. Many people have already gathered in the banquet hall.”
“Then surely we should go to the banquet hall.”
Zed’s eyes gleamed unusually brightly.
When Ferda gave him a pitiable look, Zed hurriedly made an excuse.
“Think about it. If you know your enemy and yourself, you can remain undefeated in every battle. Wouldn’t it be better to learn about our opponents in advance?”
“I was thinking the same thing.”
“Then why did you look at me like that?”
“Because you aren’t.”
Zed glared at him as though dumbfounded, but he could not bring himself to deny it.
“Please guide us to the banquet hall.”
“Understood.”
Blancaros’s Hand began leading the way, and before following him, Ferda patted Zed on the shoulder.
“Enjoy the banquet to your heart’s content.”
“Pardon? Ah, yes. Thank you.”
As they walked, those words began to nag at Zed.
He thought and thought about them.
‘No way.’
Surely not.
But it was possible.
Ferda might do something like that.
Just in case, Zed subtly asked Ferda,
“Surely you aren’t planning to count this banquet as my knighting ceremony?”
……
“You aren’t… right?”
Ferda did not answer that he was not.
* * *
White House banquet hall.
With only five hours left until the meeting, many nobles had already gathered there.
If each person had not been limited in the number of companions they could bring, the banquet hall would already have been bursting at the seams.
The snow-white doors slowly opened, and laughter and music flowed out from within.
“Oh-ho.”
The first Grand Council he had ever attended.
Even Ferda, who was not easily impressed, let out an exclamation of admiration at the sight.
He had thought the Empire’s buildings were splendid too, but in the end, they had been made by humans.
Dragon architecture delivered a shock on an entirely different level from anything made by humans.
Inside, people accustomed to this atmosphere were laughing and chatting.
They were not merely humans.
The elves’ High Chieftain, dwarves, gnomes, and even other races that did not mingle with human society had attended as well.
“Oh….”
Arwen could not hold back his own exclamation of admiration.
Watching him, Zed smiled as though he found it cute.
“Is this your first party, Sir Knight?”
“No. I’ve attended all sorts of parties on official business while accompanying the count.”
“Then don’t make that country bumpkin face. It’s obvious to everyone.”
“Ah, I—well, I’ll try….”
At Zed’s warning, Arwen readily admitted it and kept his gaze fixed straight ahead.
The awkwardness did not disappear.
‘Consilius was right.’
He was a man who needed experience.
Unlike the country bumpkin Arwen, neither Zed nor Luri was swept up in the atmosphere.
Zed was simply too familiar with high society.
Luri had always gone at her own pace.
And the emotion Ferda felt beneath all this splendor was,
‘It feels like I’ve entered a den of vipers.’
Discomfort.
It was on an entirely different level from the battle of wills with provincial lords.
From the moment their eyes met, it felt like a fight.
Even the seemingly friendly eyes constantly swept over him, searching for weaknesses.
Everything from the brief greetings to the moment they turned away felt like an appraisal of Ferda.
‘That must be why they are high nobles, and why they were capable of becoming kings of their own countries.’
They had power.
The power to hold their ground.
The power to rise to the position they desired.
The power to drag down anyone occupying that position.
What could one do when surrounded by people like that?
It was an exceedingly simple question.
Ferda merely straightened his back and walked forward as though to show them all.
He met each of their eyes in turn and read the flow of the room.
Even in a society where everyone mingled, people ultimately clustered together within their own factions.
Ferda thought.
If.
If I were to join a faction, where should I go?
As he pondered that, someone caught Ferda’s eye.
“Ho ho, you’ve arrived! Regent Valdrova!”
Among the clustered groups of humans, a man and several women stood out in particularly extravagant clothing.
Surrounded as though they were at the center of everything, they waved Ferda over.
The emblem of the Arken Empire was emblazoned on the man’s shoulder.
‘Alexander Arken.’
He was the First Prince of the Arken Empire.
* * *
Godfrey Arken, the incompetent emperor.
The First Prince, Alexander Arken, and the Second Prince, Ureas Arken, had struggled desperately to drag that emperor from his throne.
They had called it a historic moment that would usher in a new leap forward for the Empire.
But the result had been horrific.
Godfrey remained firmly in place, while his two sons were ridiculed.
‘Two incompetent sons who couldn’t even depose an incompetent emperor.’
Since even the image of Godfrey had been polished until he looked like a saint, they had only made the emperor’s position more secure.
To Ferda, who wished for the Empire’s destruction, those two fools were utterly useless.
“Allow me to formally introduce myself. I am Alexander Arken.”
Alexander Arken, the eldest son.
A middle-aged man in his thirties, his stylishly groomed beard seemed to proclaim that he was an emperor.
“Ferda Valdrova, I greet Your Highness, the First Prince.”
“I sent you a letter some time ago. I’m sorry I couldn’t reply. I was so busy with official duties that day I barely had time to open my eyes.”
As if.
While Ferda was thinking that, the woman standing beside Alexander chimed in.
“Ha-ha! With a hundred million subjects before the prince, wouldn’t even two bodies be insufficient!?”
Unlike the emperor’s golden radiance, hers was blue, reflected in her clothing.
Her youthful appearance and boisterous laugh were remarkably brazen, but even Alexander did not dare do anything to her.
Unlike her appearance suggested, she was more than a hundred years old.
“Who is this handsome man? Won’t you introduce him to me, Prince?”
“Ah, yes, of course! My apologies! Allow me to introduce you. This is Lady Erdes Roton, chairwoman of the Cerdess Human Magic Society.”
Erdes Roton.
Roton.
Once the greatest alchemist family, and also the worst family of fraudsters.
Erdes was the last surviving bloodline of that family.
She had neither territory nor a title.
All she possessed was the Seventh Circle.
By virtue of that name, every mage in human society was managed and controlled by her.
No—
They had to be controlled.
She was the kind of woman who could not rest until things were that way.
“I am Ferda Valdrova. It is a true honor to meet humanity’s great archmage.”
“Ha-ha! I’d wanted to see His Grace the Grand Duke’s visage at least once, but I’ve met his fiancée first.”
“I heard it is difficult for you to attend this gathering.”
“Of course I know that. This is a place for mortals, not immortals.”
She smiled.
It was less a smile of pleasure than one she wore reflexively.
Her eyes remained fixed on Ferda.
“I’ll call you Regent Ferda rather than Regent Valdrova. I’m not accustomed to mentioning the name Valdrova itself. Is that all right?”
“As you wish.”
“How old are you?”
“Eighteen.”
“A family of mages?”
“No. I was the third son of a knight named Rosnova.”
Her eyes widened like full moons.
“Hmm, how remarkable! I’ve heard that knights practice mana cultivation too, but I thought it was merely a sideline. Yet I can sense a mage’s qualities in you?”
“I trained as a mage.”
“Oh, really? You achieved something remarkable at such a young age! Ha-ha!”
Along with her hearty laughter, her tongue moved without pause.
“I heard from the prince that you made a major contribution to catching a rat in the Empire this time.”
“A rat?”
“A black mage.”
Ferda remembered.
She was referring to the groups of black mages hiding in the underground waterways.
In truth, he had left them out because they were certain to become an obstacle to bringing down the Empire.
Ferda had not lied.
“I merely contributed in a small way to the larger plan.”
“Don’t get too pleased with yourself. Your achievements didn’t end there, did they? I heard you dealt with the matter of Thesalos Walcher too.”
This time, she was referring to what had happened when all the lords had been gathered before the engagement ceremony.
A man he had not intended to kill, but had been forced to kill.
“That damned bastard was researching black magic, wasn’t he?”
“That is correct.”
“Impressive. According to the records, he was an ordinary mage without any particular talent, but apparently he transformed into a Red Circle after being consumed by rage. It seems he achieved something after that.”
Erdes leaned forward.
“Because he had fallen into black magic.”
The wine in the glass she held swirled faintly.
“Did you know? I absolutely loathe black mages.”
It was a well-known fact that she hated black mages.
Her principle was zero tolerance for anyone who learned black magic.
She stripped them of their qualifications and destroyed their Circles, making it impossible for them to live as mages for the rest of their lives.
“I hate them so much that if I even had to breathe the same air as one, I’d want to strangle them.”
“Is that so?”
“Those untalented fools sell their souls to demons and then dress up what they gained as hard work, don’t they? They don’t even realize that they’ll eventually become puppets inferior to even the ghosts wandering the Underworld, less useful than dogs.”
Her narrowed eyes glowed blue.
“What about you, Lord Ferda? What do you think of people who learn black magic?”
The hatred visible in her eyes was unmistakable.
Those were eyes directed at black mages.
“Especially if someone inherited the practice of using monsters to perform necromancy and continued it, what do you think would happen?”
That hatred was directed at Ferda.
The meaning was clear.
‘I know who you are.’
She knew that Ferda possessed a Red Circle.
She knew that he had learned black magic.
That was why she was looking at Ferda with such hatred now.
As humanity’s strongest mage, her hatred was something to be feared.
‘But do you know that too?’
That your hatred strangled you with your own hands.
That you had fallen into a grave dug by your own hatred.
And that the one who pushed you into it—
Was none other than me.