The Weight of a Noble's Death

I had killed a noble.

The fact stirred nothing in me. I had simply done what needed to be done. Frendal had been a blight eating away at the world — a man who needed to be put down.

But killing a noble carried a different weight than killing a bandit. When a bandit died, no one cared enough to notice. A noble's death, though, would bring a nationwide investigation.

Frendal was a cast-off son.

Even the ordinary commoners living in Raoren County knew that much. How his family had treated him was obvious. But Frendal had still lived under the Laoren name. He may have dragged that name through the mud by sinking his hands into the back alleys, but a son was a son. For the sake of the family's standing, they would hunt down the culprit no matter what.

There's no evidence I did it.

Frendal's death was an incomprehensible one. Even Zorbanof hadn't been able to properly perceive Instant Death Magic. There was no chance an ordinary person would understand it. But there would still be ways to pin it on someone.

The Silver Crest Association had burned the same way the Muddy Hand had burned before it. On top of that, the iron mask had been left behind, and word had gotten out that I'd come back alive. The Raoren County household would find that suspicious and start moving. I'd spoken with Laorio, too — they would name me as the killer, no question.

If it came out that I was a mage, the whole thing would resolve itself.

I wasn't particularly keen on that. I hadn't become a mage to use it that way.

Forget it. I can deal with this later.

By the time they put a name to the killer, I wouldn't be here. I was planning to leave Laoren.

I had three goals now. To let my magic bloom. To find Maria, who'd been abducted by a mage. And to track down Bormora — the mage who'd created the magic tool Leksan — and bring him down.

Not a single one of them would be easy.

"Leksan. Where is this mage Bormora?"

"You think I'd actually tell you that?"

Not that simple, then.

"...More importantly."

I'd let my disappointment show, and Leksan spoke up again.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"That back-alley place. I'd like to go back there."

This was the first time Leksan had ever come to me with a suggestion. He hesitated, reading my mood, before continuing.

"...I sensed another magic tool there. One that Lord Bormora made."

What was that supposed to mean? There was another of Bormora's magic tools in Laoren?

"Why didn't you say so sooner?"

"Because I didn't want to, obviously! You're hostile to Lord Bormora — you think I'd want to tell you?!"

Fair enough. I could accept that. Still.

"Then why tell me now?"

If he was going to hide it, he should have hidden it to the end. I couldn't see why he was bringing it up now.

"Magic tools have lifespans too."

A magic tool ran on whatever mana it had left. Once enough time passed and that mana bled away, it would simply stop working.

"I can tell this one's lifespan as a magic tool is over."

"It'd need someone to pour mana into it directly to recover, then."

"That's right. For a magic tool, that means its life is finished. If a mage doesn't inject mana into it personally and enough time goes by, it gets written off as unrecoverable."

So it was a magic tool already meeting its end. He'd figured there was no harm in telling me now.

"Where is it?"

"The place you burned down."

He really should have said something sooner. I sighed, but I turned around anyway.

Leksan was a dangerous magic tool — one that stole human lives. The only reason I hadn't smashed him yet was because I needed him to find Bormora. Under any other circumstances, I would have disposed of him immediately.

And now another of Bormora's magic tools was sitting in Laoren. Lifespan or no, a magic tool was a magic tool. Given the danger, the sooner I dealt with it, the better. Besides, it might have a looser tongue than Leksan, who kept his mouth shut about everything.

"You maniac. You're thinking something dangerous again, aren't you."

"How many times have you even seen me, that you keep calling me a maniac?"

"I can tell just by looking. You are not right in the head. What you did this time is proof enough."

Killing Frendal, then.

"I figured it out while I was brainwashing you humans. I know what those 'noble' bastards mean to your kind."

"Mages ignore even nobles, don't they?"

"That's only if you reveal you're a mage! And you don't even act like one to begin with. You're a lunatic."

"I handled things like a mage this time too. That's a little hurtful."

"What mage handles things like that?!"

Listen to him huff. I didn't know why he was so hard on me specifically. If you used mana to kill someone, that made you a mage. What else would you call it?

"You haven't even been a mage for long, and you weren't one to begin with."

He'd been picking up quite a bit from the conversations around me. Then again, my talk with Laorio had already laid it all out. He was right — I hadn't been born a mage. A string of fortunate encounters and coincidences had made me one, that was all.

"A guy like you thinks and sees things the same way other humans do. And a guy like that goes and kills a noble? You think that looks sane?"

"I'll say it again. Even a noble like that is nothing to a mage."

"Don't give me that crap. You were a killer even before you became a mage."

Sharp. He wasn't wrong. I had fully intended to wipe Frendal out. The man had abandoned every scrap of human decency. If anything, I wished I'd ended his life with Instant Death Magic sooner than I had. Then there wouldn't have been any more victims.

I let the regret show, and Leksan came back sounding thoroughly fed up.

"The way you think is not normal. I can guarantee that — I've brainwashed more humans than I can count. You do the deed and don't even think about what comes after, do you?"

"I do think about it. More precisely, I used to. And I regretted it more times than I can count."

My old life — a life spent thinking of nothing but self-preservation and covering my own tracks. How pathetic I had been back then.

"That's why, at least for now, I intend to live righteously."

I had come this far by gaining Instant Death Magic and stumbling into one fortunate encounter after another. Now I meant to put into practice the justice I'd thrown aside in my heart.

"What even is that 'justice' of yours?"

A good question. I could have spent the whole day answering it.

"Ah, forget it. I don't want to hear it. It'll just put me in a bad mood."

And just like that, he ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠deflated. Why get a person all worked up and then bail?

"Let me ask you one thing."

Leksan had an unusual number of questions for me today.

"If you decided a mage way above your level was an enemy, would you kill them the way you did today?"

A mage way above my level — one of a higher rank than me, then. Mages were still distant, towering things to me. They commanded heaven and earth. I barely commanded mana. I wouldn't come close. Not even remotely.

Instant Death Magic killed everything instantly. I'd felt that more keenly than ever since becoming a mage. But I also knew that mages weren't so accommodating that I could just plant Instant Death Magic in them whenever I pleased.

Even so.

"That's what I became a mage for."

Mana Stone Sclerosis wasn't the only reason I'd become a mage. The only thing that could bring down a mage was another mage. That was why I'd become one.

"...You're not right in the head."

I seemed to be getting the madman treatment all day today.

"Looking at you, there's one thing I can guarantee."

"What's that."

"Someday, that line of justice you keep talking about is going to start fading."

I fell silent for a moment at Leksan's certainty.

The moment the line of justice grew faint. The incident at the bandit village had been exactly that. Bandits who had killed other people. But the children raised by those bandits' hands had been unstained. In their eyes, I had been no different from the mage who had killed my parents that day.

"You're probably right."

But to me, justice was an unfinished conviction.

"That's why I'm trying even harder to choose in ways I won't regret."

Life was a succession of choices. You could give up both options, but you could never have both. The path I walked was a blood-soaked one, no question. And someday, a day would come when I made a mistake. That was why I lived holding even that close. I would rather live a life of learning through ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my mistakes than waste away in despair, having accomplished nothing at all.

"..."

Leksan fell silent. He didn't understand me, I supposed. I hadn't said it hoping to be understood. I would simply live as I lived.

"Let's go find that magic tool."

The other magic tool Leksan had mentioned. I would find it.

The burned-out remains of the Silver Crest Association. A crowd had already gathered there.

Frendal's corpse was nowhere to be seen. His escort knight had almost certainly scooped him up and bolted. I felt a twinge of sympathy for the knight who would now bear the blame. But staying silent while knowing full well what his master had been doing — that had been his choice. Bearing the sin that came back around was his to carry as well.

Things would be in chaos over there by now.

An investigation team would be dispatched for Frendal's death, late as it was. A report, then the dispatch of investigators. In the gap between those two things — did anyone really think the hungry people of the back alleys would sit still? Sorry, but not a chance.

They had swarmed the burned Silver Crest building like a pack of dogs, hoping to scavenge something from the wreckage. They must have figured this was their only window, now that Frendal was gone.

That was how the back alleys worked. Some of the Silver Crest members might have been their colleagues, their family. But people too busy stuffing food in their own mouths had no mourning to spare. Shoving the scraps the dead had left behind into their faces came first.

I was from the back alleys myself. I'd seen this scene more times than I could count. One person's misfortune was another person's fortune. Nowhere was that saying practiced more thoroughly than here.

"Like flies."

Flies gathering to feed on a corpse. They really might not have been so different. In the end, they were picking through someone's remains just to survive.

"At this rate, though, that magic tool is going to end up in someone's hands."

I was watching from a deliberate distance. Even so, I'd worn an iron mask when I acted here — I wasn't about to let my face be seen. Getting snagged by Count Laoren's investigation team because I'd hung around was not on my agenda.

"It's already gone."

Sure enough — someone had already grabbed the magic tool. This was exactly why I'd told him to speak up sooner. I'd known this would happen.

"Location?"

"I don't know. Its mana was already almost gone, so there's barely a trace left."

"Fine."

It didn't matter. They were back-alley people in the end. Where they'd take something valuable was obvious.

"The fence."

The man who bought and sold stolen goods was well known in the back alleys.