Chapter 197
Chapter 197
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Vine
Chapter: 197
Chapter Title: Chapter 11. The Mage of Mages (17)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
****
Vizillen House.
An ancient imperial house that has governed Sigfillund City in the eastern reaches of the empire for generations. Bordering the Blueline Mountains, it periodically suffers monster raids spilling over from the monster-infested peaks, making it infamous for the magic stones harvested from those beasts, the dense magical byproducts, and the high mortality rate among its guards.
Because of this, the lord is forced to reinvest taxes into the territory rather than pocketing them—a trait that kept it a backwater noble house with no dreams of ascending to the central court. Yet seventy years ago, a massive undead outbreak catapulted its name to fame.
The elite soldiers, tempered daily by battles against the Blueline beasts, proved just as effective against the undead.
As borders crumbled everywhere under relentless undead assaults, Sigfillund City held firm under Vizillen rule. The empire rallied around this eastern foothold to push back the horde.
But standing alone amid total collapse demanded immense sacrifice. At the soul-summoning rite led by the war hero Great Chieftain Magnauka, it took over four hours just to call the names of Vizillen soldiers and city defenders—nearly every soul in Sigfillund had thrown themselves into the breach. Emperor Agdan III, deeply moved by their sacrifice and valor, granted the house the rank of margrave despite fierce opposition from his ministers.
.
.
.
.
.
“...and that is how it is. Lord Alessio Vizillen, the current head of Vizillen House and margrave, is a truly exemplary liege—flawless in the eyes of both the local folk and nobility alike. One feels true pride in serving him...”
“I see.”
“Moreover, he spares no effort to ensure our rugged border troops don’t die in vain. Though I graduated at the very bottom of the Knight Academy—a meager feat—I’ve joined the training instructors to ease even a fraction of his burdens...”
“Wow! Bottom of the class at the Knight Academy, where the empire’s stars all flock? You’re too modest!”
“Ahem, cough! It’s nothing special. And while I’m far from the line of succession in the house, I aid my brother in safeguarding our ever-threatened territory—a vital role that carries more weight than rank might suggest compared to other noble houses...”
“Ah, haha...”
‘Nothing special, my foot. His mouth’s practically glued to his ears.’
Lucilla struggled to keep smiling through the knight’s endless chatter. Whether he had a lot to say or her reactions egged him on, he showed no sign of leaving her side.
‘This counts as his pitch, right?’
A few minutes earlier, the dense forest had thinned, opening to a clearing and beyond it, towering walls.
Knight Demicas had removed his helmet upon passing the log palisade marking the forest edge, brushed back his sweat-dampened golden curls, slowed his horse to match the pace of the cart I was pulling, and launched into this spiel.
His behavior wasn’t awkward. Though unarranged, Lucilla was a foreign noble visiting Vizillen territory. Escorting her as a house knight was proper, and any well-trained knight would keep a guest entertained on the road with light conversation or territory highlights.
A key knightly virtue was spinning tales of one’s exploits charmingly in society—rhetoric was even a required academy subject. This guy wasn’t unusually chatty.
The issue was his topics.
‘Subtly all about himself: his boasts, the house’s standing in the empire, the current situation, and his own role in it. Laying it all out.’
In modern terms: ‘My dad’s a former chief prosecutor, the family’s in this business now, and I’ve got my own law practice, house, car, savings.’ Overt self-promotion.
Even with me and our motley crew—Ottoman and the rest—right beside him, he never glanced our way, fixated on Lucilla. The picture was clear.
Knight Demicas had a serious interest in Lucilla.
“Wowww. I seeee...”
“Hahaha! Our territory may be war-torn, but it’s not all grim. If you’re not too pressed, Lady Lucilla, I’d love to show you around. So many spots I want you to see.”
Lucilla kept up her smiling responses, sustaining the talk with the aggressively pitching knight.
But inwardly, she was far from pleased.
[Argh! This guy! Why’s he so persistent?!]
Her irritated voice via message spell. Outwardly all ha-ha-ho-ho, inside she was ripping him apart loud enough to rupture eardrums.
[Seems like you two know each other from his chit-chat. Happened before?]
[Not this bad... maybe a little? I visited Vizillen for business once. We met briefly, but zero follow-up like this. There’s bold, and then there’s this. Might as well confess outright instead of negotiating house terms before even locking eyes. Ugh, creepy! What is this, mating season for non-beastkin?!]
Pfft!
[That’s species discrimination, you know.]
Mating season. I stifled a laugh at her heated word choice, then realized why this margrave’s second son had shifted gears.
[Mating season... could be spot on.]
[Kyaaah! What a filthy thing to say! In front of a grown lady! So Knight Demicas is eyeing me like thaaat...?!]
[You said it first. Not like that—I mean your timing here’s perfect for misunderstanding.]
[My... timing?]
[You bolted after the marriage talks at home. And not privately—after it hit society circles with a prospect lined up.]
[...Wait. Marriage talks? Society? No waaay!!!]
Crack!
Yikes, her face control’s shot. Pale as a ghost.
[Yep, kiddo. You’re pegged as a noble debutante on the Bride’s Journey.]
[Aaaah! ^%;$#&**;aaaa!!! Nooo! Why would they think thaaat...?!]
[Thanks, Lucilla. This trip just got way easier.]
[Don’t you laaaaugh!!!]
Heh heh heh. Life’s full of surprises.
Shin-hang. Literally, the new bride’s journey.
Sorry, Lucilla, but to other nobles, she looked like a marriageable woman traveling to find a match. That’s why this Vizillen second son clung with a ‘How about me?’ vibe.
“Hm. We’re here. Lady Lucilla, your hand.”
Rumble!
We’d reached the walls beyond the clearing. A massive drawbridge thudded down over the 10-meter moat. Dismounting, the knight courteously offered his hand to Lucilla.
“Welcome to Sigfillund, ruled by House Vizillen, the lion’s kin.”
“Oh, no, I...”
“If you’d not have the margrave’s second son branded a rogue for letting a lady ride alone in a cart, please mount up.”
His constant gentle smile cracked! Lucilla, fidgeting, placed her hand on Demicas’s arm.
[Heeelp! I’ve never dealt with this!]
[Heh heh heh. Your Bride’s Journey choice, deal with it raw?]
Sorry, but it looked too fun to help.
I chuckled alone as Lucilla unleashed sailor-grade curses via message spell.
Not a bad spot, so I’d watch for now.
****
Gulp, gulp, gulp!
“Khaaa!”
“Grraaah!”
Thud!
“How’s that? Decent stuff, eh?”
“This... unbelievable from a small tavern. Fierce. And it burns away fatigue like nothing else.”
“Heh heh heh. A werewolf who knows his booze. What say you, Professor?”
“Khaaa! Wow. Gotta admit, this is top-notch.”
“Heh heh heh heh. Lordric, the Free Trade Alliance, Teldrat’s trio—they’re known for low-proof beers and fruit wines. The empire? High-proof spirits.”
Professor turned from Aldrich’s proud rundown of imperial drinks to survey the lively tavern.
Small and seemingly shabby, but tables and wooden beams gleamed from years of care.
The tavern’s cheerful din.
Road-weary bodies on simple chairs, steaming soup and bread, icy-sharp distilled spirits that stung the mind.
Entering Sigfillund under knightly escort, our group ignored Lucilla’s pleading gaze and split off from her immediately.
=========
“Even with Knight Demicas vouching for Lady’s party, we need inspections. The lineup’s... heroic: hero, elf, troll, werewolf, mage... mages?”
“Yes. Mages too.”
Rattle, rattle!
“M-m-mages?! Hands up now—who’s the mage, reveal yourselves!”
Snap!
“Th-three?! Three mages in the city?”
“Alert! Emergeeeency! All gate guards, assemmmmble!!!”
Ding ding ding ding!!!!
=========
We thought Lucilla’s noble vibe meant a quick ID check, but guards freaked, swarming with screams.
Demicas looked mortified, saying, ‘Lady Lucilla, sorry, can’t let them in.’ So Lucilla headed to the castle as guest protocol demanded, while we followed her dying plea—[Honey badger tavern! Wait at Honey Badger Tavern—]—and scattered to pubs like this, drinking.
Bang!
Ottoman, displeased—maybe at the treatment, maybe worried for solo Lucilla—slammed his glass.
“Aldrich. Mages or not, this treatment’s shabby! Professor even showed relics proving we’re heroes on Lo Haram’s quest—yet they act so rudely! They’re still watching us like criminals outside!”
“You don’t know empire ways, Ottoman. With those damned windbag hags’ coven, empire’s crawling with rogue mages. Others hole up in towers, so infamy’s localized. These wander everywhere, spreading terror. Empire folk, burned by mages, fear them most. This leniency’s thanks to Lucilla and Demicas’s noble pull.”
Unlike Ottoman, Aldrich took it in stride, tearing into bread.
“Surprising, though. You’re imperial-born, Aldrich.”
“Black mage doesn’t mean no hometown. Rare for us to stay put, though.”
“Why?”
“...Think why one turns black mage. Answer’s there.”
Aldrich downed fierce spirit in one go.
As we nursed travel fatigue our ways—full bellies patted, satisfied leans back—I explained Demicas’s clinginess to the group.
“Bride’s Journey? You mean Teldrat women’s groom-hunt trip?”
“Yes. Thought you’d be clueless, old-timer. How’d you know?”
“Hmm. Don’t underestimate me. Was young once, curious about foreign quirks in my hot-blooded days. ‘Teldrat bride’ tales are bards’ favorites still.”
Aldrich nodded agreement.
Even a Lordric water mage and imperial black mage knew Teldrat’s famed oddity.
Shin-hang. ‘Bride’s Journey’ or ‘Quest to Become a Bride’—Teldrat’s ancient custom and legendary rite, from its fertile fields and trade riches.
Unmarried noblewomen of age declare: ‘I’ll find my match myself.’ They roam seeking husbands—a mad noble whim.
Noble marriages aren’t love matches. Houses calculate bloodline gains; sometimes loveless unions serve the family—cold, ruthless affairs.
Why possible in Teldrat?
Thanks to Levit Princess’s 2nd World play.
Strong, beautiful, heroic bonds from 1st World, plus ‘Princess House’ wealth.
Her dream-girl character drew hundreds of letters daily, dawn serenades operatic.
Fed up with leeching nobles, Levit declared:
[I know my worth best. Sorry, but none I’ve met deserve all of me. So I wander. Until I find my perfect half, to settle by his side.]
‘Hm. Brilliant play, even now.’
‘Pick my man; inferiors, dream on.’
Spread via society, it idolized her worldwide among noblemen.
Why? Noble view:
Mysterious beauty from afar.
Rejected empire crown prince, desert god-king?
Her choice: era’s top man.
Plus real perks: goddess looks, ancient house, vast wealth, stellar connections—prime bride.
Post-declaration, lavish welcomes everywhere. Rejected nobles auto-filtered suitors: ‘Rejected me? No underling gets her!’
Smoother play.
That 2nd World legend of ‘Teldrat’s ultimate groom-huntress’ lingers in 3rd—bard songs inflating it: ‘Her chooser’s the ultimate man, universally acclaimed.’
Not bad for families: 8/10 daughter becomes 11/10 abroad, snagging top son-in-law impossible otherwise.
Double-edged: minor house hypes ‘Daughter’s on Bride’s Journey!’ but she flops? Total shame. House status plummets; she’s ‘delusional spinster’ forever.
Rare, confident launches only—‘She’ll skyrocket!’—preserve prestige. Rumor-born, now real.
“But captain. Lucilla didn’t launch a Bride’s Journey—she bolted home secretly.”
“Timing’s the issue. Post-official society marriage announcement. Like declaring ‘Our girl’s ready—send matchmakers!’ Nobles average three broken engagements pre-wedding. No-contract old-foreigner betrothal rumor? Matchmakers ignore.”
Lucilla debuted on nobility marriage market as ‘Empire’s richest house daughter’—prime catch. Matchmakers salivated, shoving portraits: ‘Aedran third daughter seeks...’
“Then! Naive-patrolling Demicas spots Teldrat marriageable beauty—house-listed, looks prime, pedigree stellar. Legend incarnate.”
Demicas: dream girl walks in, specs perfect—go all-in.
“Hooo. Quite the...”
“Fun, right?”
“Can’t deny. But help her? Could spark unintended feud with imperials. Invoke church to clarify...”
“Nah, watch. Guy who swayed that thick-headed dwarf for contract? She’ll handle this.”
Urp—
Professor patted his belly, picturing Lucilla’s thorny banquet.
‘Hang in, High Pass. Nail it, shaves months off empire stay.’
Teldrat custom: ‘Rejected? No clingy disgrace.’
Enter royally, exit smoothly. Smoothest noble-territory access?
‘Renewed contract: smart move.’
Pre-city, cart-top message-spell huddle recalled, Professor grinned happily.
****