The Quill (3)

One communication orb, and that was all they had. As for the Ivory Tower, the Liberation Tower appeared to know only a mage or two.

Harad put real force behind those strokes, and the quill carried the pressure along with the words.

"Do you know who it is?"

"No idea."

The quill set down a line.

Bone Awl. Meaning that was Kunrzban's Origin.

"So the ignoramus is playing the Outrealm mage, is he?" Cassion observed. "In the Outlands, that is how they introduce themselves to one another. In my own case, it would be Cassion of the Moon, 5th-tier, follower of Point... Ah. Now, the word 'follower' there generally means however one happens to feel about—"

"Sir Cassion, I'm not the slightest bit curious. It's not the slightest bit important, either."

"As you say, my lady."

And true to Cassion's word, Kunrzban had introduced himself precisely the way Outrealm mages did among their own kind.

Harad wrote with all the fluid grace he could muster. A brush that swept its strokes across the page — if that was truly her Origin, then this was the hand Psina would have possessed.

Kunrzban's awe came through in writing. It was reverence for a mage who had touched the realm of Manifestation.

"Why Psina, of all people?"

"Word of Ios's death reached the Ivory Tower. Psina raged at it, and left the Outlands."

The Outlands would never learn that she ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was dead. They would simply think: ah, she must be somewhere on the continent.

"Isn't it a little risky to use a real person?"

"A 5th-tier is what fits. A fictitious one won't do."

Precisely because they were so rare, so revered, every mage would know each 5th-tier of their own tower by heart.

"Does it have to be a 5th-tier?"

Harad had fixated on that rank, and Ellen pointed it out.

"Only then will that Pitel fellow keep his mouth shut. Think of it in a knight's terms for a moment."

Rendered into knighthood, Psina was a Sword Master.

"An ordinary knight holds no friendship with a Sword Master. He wouldn't dare address one, let alone befriend him."

"Ah."

Ellen understood in a flash.

"Even once this exchange reaches Pitel, the man won't dare suspect a thing."

No matter what oddities he noticed, Pitel could not bring himself to doubt this side. That was the kind of existence a 5th-tier was.

"You're good at this..."

That was why he hadn't produced a name straight away. Ellen marveled at the thoroughness of it. This was not the handiwork of a man who had told a lie once or twice in his life.

What manner of person had Psina been? Her affections had run deep for Ios alone; she had been numb to the deaths of Jeshult and Compaso. And she had been more naive than her rank suggested, her experience falling short of her tier.

A specimen of the Outrealm mage, this one. Ios must have modeled himself on what he saw in her.

Ios had treated continental mages like country rubes. Psina would be worse.

Harad was trading written words with Kunrzban through the quill — the quill whose owner had been Isota.

It meant the mage who had been its vessel was dead. And so the origin called Mask would settle upon a new life.

The quill finished the sentence slowly, and on close inspection the letters trembled, ever so slightly.

The writing shook a little more. But Kunrzban asked nothing further — which meant he already knew the brokers had been beheaded.

Were there truly none? In Harad's memory, the Liberation Tower had counted several mages of earth-related origin.

So he doesn't trust them. Even though the Liberation Tower would want that bridge to the Outlands.

The odds were good that some private stake was tangled up in it. Kunrzban, it seemed, had cherished Isota rather dearly. Harad grinned, sharp and silent. This was the crack he had set out to drive.

Harad wrote with all the swagger of a mage at the height of her spirits.

Of all the Outlands' towers, the Ivory Tower's reach was the weakest. How would Psina carry herself, then? If her hold on power was slight...

The answer came late.

Either there truly weren't any, or Kunrzban doesn't know.

Either way, it changed nothing. Learning that the man had ties to other towers as well was more than enough.

This time the writing shook outright, rattling on the page. If the earlier trembling had been rage over Isota's death, this was fear — fear of everything going wrong. And the latter mattered far more than the former.

Isota died for breaking a Promise. Kunrzban, too, must carry one carved into him.

Kunrzban seemed to fear the mage of the Promise.

Having written that, Harad raised his head.

"Kubel, would you bring me a mirror?"

"Yes? Y-yes."

Bewildered but obedient, Kubel fetched a hand mirror. It was pink.

Harad raised it in his left hand to catch his own face, and moved the quill with his right. What came out was not writing, but a picture. Harad sent Kunrzban a self-portrait.

The reply came long after. Copying the portrait across must have taken time.

"That should do it."

Without writing another word, Harad tucked the quill into his breast. Cutting things off like this would make Kunrzban all the more earnest, all the more impatient.

"What exactly are you doing right now?"

An ice-cold voice drove into his head without warning. He looked up to find Ellen glaring at him, colder still.

"Putting out a hit on your own neck — you're the first person I've ever seen do it."

Cassion looked on in open admiration. Kubel bolted for the kitchen.

The Liberation Tower. Harad had once held that it deserved the same handling as the Empire or the Church — which was to say, it was not a power worth his attention at this stage.

There would be more breathing room there than with the Empire or the Church.

Kubel was proof of that, if proof were needed. The Heart Addict of his past life — the 5th-tier they had called the Crocodile — was at this very moment living in an annex of Serzila's inner castle with his daughter.

In truth, the Liberation Tower was not yet in the same league as the Empire or the Church. It would certainly grow into a nuisance in time — but it had not reached that point yet. And in this life, it never would. Slowly, deliberately — that was how Harad intended to keep it.

What demanded his focus now was, as ever, the North. And the Outlands.

The Boundary too. He had to keep working his way, steadily, toward the Red Tower's outer reaches. The giant he had crossed paths with on the Deep Sea road had forced a brief halt, but the roads back were there in abundance. The Boundary was a vast land.

Ten tunnels still unaccounted for. A tunnel's worth shifted with where its exit lay. Rick himself ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had known nothing — which meant the brokers had grasped the exits' positions, roughly at the least. Compare what each of them had paid, and the exits could be plotted to a fair degree of certainty.

None of it was work for Harad's own hands; the task had passed to Arika. Grand Duke Aratus's order — the one that had been called off — had come down again.

Go to the 3rd Knight Order.

And so Harad was walking north to carry that order out.

"Quiet, isn't it."

"Shall I make some noise for you?" Ellen shot back, curt and clipped.

"Not you. I mean the Liberation Tower — it's been silent."

Three days had passed since he'd planted the contract with Kunrzban, and still no response had come. Which meant there was not a single Liberation Tower mage left hiding anywhere in Serzila territory.

Arika must have swept things clean while I was gone. Such was the Information Bureau's caliber.

In his past life, the North's downfall had owed less to any failing in its retainers than to Serzila's own arrogance. ...If only they had thought a little longer, cared a little more, issued the right orders at the right times. These were problems a regressed Harad could solve.

Even if Serzila itself might not — in the end, Elaine would have to grow arrogant. Elaine was a person who had to become that way. And the regressed Harad would be the one to clean up after her.

The Liberation Tower's mages were probably racing for the North in a frenzy even now. There was time yet before that appointed ambush fell. The North was a very distant land.

"Why did you do it?"

"I told you already — for Kubel and Shura's sake."

The Liberation Tower demanded no more of his attention for the moment. A small check would suffice. A certain measure of extermination, however, was necessary.

"Kubel's name is on the Liberation Tower's list of targets. And of course they wouldn't stop at Kubel alone. A child, as it happens, makes for a splendid hostage."

So Harad had turned the whole of the Liberation Tower's gaze upon himself. Kubel, unlike him, was not yet equal to it.

"The inner castle can handle it."

"Aye, it can. But Shura would lose her freedom. To cage a child — is that not the thing the North hates most of all?"

Ellen had accepted that three days ago. Her expression, though, had not softened once in those three days.

"Weren't you the one who said you couldn't afford to be known as a mage?"

That was why he had killed Pelatz. That Harad was a mage had to be buried in the deepest secrecy.

"I never said a word about mage. All I gave them was a name and a face."

"And the moment they meet you, won't they know?"

"They won't get the chance. I have no intention of leaving them alive."

"And if you can't kill them?"

"Then you'll kill them for me."

Harad beamed.

Even now, Ellen was making the journey to the 3rd Knight Order at his side — because the Prophecy of the Moon weighed on her mind. And that, in equal measure, was why her face looked the way it did.

Ellen did not wish for Harad's death. To the tune of one very small tear, perhaps. And frankly, Harad was glad of it.

"You're telling me you sold yourself to the Liberation Tower because you trust me?"

"And what if I did?"

"......"

"That stings. I'd die for you, you know."

"What is that even supposed to mean."

Ellen clearly didn't believe a word of it. Her expression, though, had thawed a fair ways.

The 3rd Knight Order's garrison sat to the left of the 1st Knight Order's — northwest, if one were keeping count of directions.

Though the smoke from the watchtower had been drifting west. Perhaps, by the 3rd Order's search paths, it would be a straight shot. Whether they would manage to keep to a search path this time, of course, remained to be seen.

"By the way, Ellen."

"What?"

"Did you get the Grand Duke's leave?"

Harad asked on the barest off chance. The order to go to the 3rd Knight Order had been his.

"It's fine. I won't do anything once we're there. I'll only step in if you look to be in danger."

"I asked whether you had permission."

"No?"

"......"

Harad settled his mind into calm. The Grand Duke Aratus wanted him keeping company with Elaine regardless. Of course, the Grand Duke's resulting wrath was an entirely separate matter...

All it would cost him was one crushing. So for now, he would simply have to be content that Ellen was living exactly as she damn well pleased...

Garrisons looked much the same wherever one went. Built of timber and shabby to the eye, yet furnished with everything that mattered. In truth, even the shabbiness was only skin deep — the trees raised into those walls were sturdier than most stone. Timber the knights had felled with their own hands in the Boundary, wood that had once drunk deep of mana.

"The 3rd Knight Order is the bravest order in all of Serzila."

"And yet as I understand it, its commander is no Sword Master."

"Which is exactly what makes them the bravest."

The 3rd Order's strength had never lain in power, but in heart.

Bravery. But Harad could not bring himself to agree with that word. As he remembered it, there had been nothing brave about it.

A single knight stood before the garrison as they drew near, as though he had come out to meet them.

"That's the commander of the 3rd Order."

At Ellen's words, Harad tilted his head.

"Isn't Sir Ahite the commander of the 3rd Order?"

"Sir Ahite is the deputy commander. The commander is Sir Kalinos — right over there."

"Until when?"

"...Shouldn't that be 'since when'?"

Harad's brow furrowed. The name Kalinos was one he had never heard before. And the meaning of that was all too clear.

So the man dies soon.