Ancient City Arville (8)
“Huff! Huff!”
“Hey, Krout. Take a break.”
“I'm fine. Don't worry about me.”
The fellow knight shook his head at the curt reply and walked away. Undeterred, Krout kept swinging his sword without pause.
“Tsk tsk, what an idiot. You think swinging a sword will improve your skills when your head's full of distractions?”
Russell, who had come to the training grounds, clicked his tongue.
“Master.”
“Do you think the young master is dead?”
“No, sir! Absolutely not...”
“Then why the long face? Gordon said the young master jumped straight into the Ancient Worm's maw of his own accord. Would he lie to save his own skin?”
“No, sir. I know Gordon's character well. His words are undoubtedly true.”
“Then it was the young master's choice. A man like him wouldn't throw himself into something impossible on a whim.”
“Then...?”
“Tsk tsk. He'll show up safe and sound soon enough. Don't worry too much.”
“Understood.”
Russell let out a quiet sigh as he gazed at his prized disciple.
Ever since Count Collin's disappearance—when Krout had been the sole survivor—guilt had gnawed at him, fueling an obsessive concern for Calix's safety.
This time, Calix's vanishing had pushed him to the brink of collapse.
Russell had summoned Krout back to the territory precisely because he feared the man might do something reckless.
Tsk. He's such a gentle soul normally, but when it comes to his lord, he loses all reason...
Thankfully, Edirn was still at the site searching for Calix, which had convinced Krout to obey the recall order.
Russell decided he needed to give his disciple something else to focus on.
“When your mind's cluttered like that, practice the basics slowly.”
“Slowly...”
“You'll see what I mean. And you're on the cusp of becoming a Sword Owner yourself now. You've been through it once, so the next step won't be hard. That means this nagging old man's lectures are finally over.”
“Master, there's still so much I need to learn.”
“You want to keep getting thrashed to learn it?”
“Well... that's a bit...”
Just then, a servant approached Russell.
“Regent Viscount, the noble council investigator has visited the annex where Countess Stera is confined again.”
“Ugh! Persistent bastard. He's saying he'll keep poking the bear, is he? I'll be off, then.”
“Yes, Master. Take care.”
After Russell left, Krout slowly raised his sword to eye level.
“I don't see what's different about going slow...”
Tilting his head, he steeled himself and repeated the basic forms. First at 0.9 speed, then 0.8, then 0.7...
He repeated them in silence. Without drawing up mana, sweat poured like rain, and his muscles trembled.
In that endless repetition, a moment came. The mana he hadn't summoned began to stir on its own.
“Wh-what?”
He stopped and looked inward. But the strange sensation had long vanished.
Krout began again, slower still. The sun set and the moon rose, but he was too absorbed to notice.
Meanwhile, Edirn, still in Trem Great Canyon scanning for Calix's vital signs, tilted his head.
“Odd. The Ancient Worm's gone docile all of a sudden. Why? It felt like a wild beast just days ago—now it's like a pet.”
The spell on Calix had expired, but the worm's massive body made tracking easy.
Moreover, it was circling one spot.
As if guarding someone.
“That kid's doing again? He's full of tricks. Well, it lets me reach out.”
To send word to Calix deep underground, an earth spirit was simplest.
But with the mighty Ancient Worm churning the earth, it would've been devoured as prey.
Now, with it idling in slow circles, it was worth a try.
Edirn chanted over a clay doll he'd molded.
“Summon, Spirit of Terra!”
Golden light flowed from his fingertips, swirling around the doll. Soon, it rose as if alive and knelt before him.
“Go. Be the bridge of will between him and me.”
Edirn closed his eyes, sharing senses with the earth spirit.
Meanwhile, deep in the ruins' lowest level, Calix felt the ground shake violently as he trained.
“What the—? Earthquake? Laila!”
“Yes, Young Master.”
“Get that thing out.”
“The larva?”
“Yeah.”
She disassembled her rosary, unrolling the white cloth to reveal the limp larva. It had been unresponsive since leaving her body.
“Hm. Did I imagine it?”
As Calix tilted his head, a mound of earth beside him swelled into human shape.
“Can you hear me?”
“Ah—! You scared me!”
“Heh, success.”
“Lord Edirn?”
“Daring to leap into a monster's gullet on your own whim, you test subject?”
“Haha... sorry about that.”
Calix broke into a cold sweat, looking sheepish.
Anyone else he could lose, but if Edirn abandoned him, replacing such a mage would be no easy task.
Thankfully, the man merely scolded lightly, showing keen interest in the Ancient Worm's odd behavior instead.
He described his observations and asked Calix,
“Any idea why it's acting like that?”
“Haha... well...”
Calix was more eager to escape than satisfy curiosity.
“Can you get us out of here?”
“I've roughly traced the worm's path when it dragged you in. Following it up should avoid the ruins' traps and monsters. But there's a problem.”
“Problem?”
“From this distance, pulling you both up with an earth spirit would drain my mana. Even relaying this message is taxing. Got any usable energy source?”
“Energy source...”
He did.
A very potent one.
“How about this?”
Calix produced the ancient shaman's relic.
“Oho! I can't identify it, but it's packed with compressed mana. That'll do. Say the word when you're ready to escape.”
“Yes, sir.”
Calix turned to Laila, who watched from behind.
“Get ready. Time to see real sunlight again.”
“Yes, my lord!”
Orsel Tiggrim.
Once the noble council's proxy for House Szczecin, now an investigator backed by Viscount Servio.
The viscount chose him for his deep connections—until recently, he'd been a high official in this very territory.
His mission upon dispatch: locate and report the silver ingot's whereabouts. But after much time, progress was nil, leaving him anxious.
Then, a bombshell. Rumors swirled that Young Master Calix had vanished.
Officially hushed, but with his networks and backing, Orsel heard easily.
“Any inconveniences, ma'am?”
“Inconveniences? I'm trapped inside this house like a prisoner! Months without seeing a soul. I can't live like this!”
Countess Stera vented at the visiting investigator. He maintained a rigidly professional face.
“To confirm: the only evidence for the assassination instigation charge is Laila's testimony? The evidence list was empty. Rumors say physical proof was withheld—hidden via the Earth's Memory spell results. True? Any secret visitors?”
“This tea's awful. Got anything better? Sewer water would taste superior. Why no macarons?”
Despite her deflections, Orsel's expression didn't flicker.
He stood abruptly, checked the door, then returned and whispered,
“We've received word that Young Master Calix may be dead.”
“...Really?”
Stera's dull eyes sharpened.
“In that case...”
“You know. Gramvine can't inherit without a Mana Hole. But if you bear a child, that child could, and you'd appoint a new guardian then.”
“You know it well. But Russell might press the assassination charge, creating variables.”
“What do you expect me to do?”
Stung, Stera snapped venomously, but Orsel's faint smile held.
“Frankly: making you the power here requires the viscount's huge political gamble. Securing the lost silver and slipping away quietly is more economical.”
She bit her lip.
“How dare you... Do you know what I sacrificed to make Gramvine heir?”
“The viscount was deeply disappointed before. Don't forget—this is your last chance.”
“Ah, Father...”
Stera swallowed dryly.
She knew her father's ruthlessness better than anyone. Once driven by ambition, now she fought just to survive.
“What must I do?”
“Just hint to your retainers to heed my words from now on. I'll handle the rest.”
“A-alright.”
Orsel nodded and rose. Stera grabbed his arm slyly.
“Leaving already?”
Her eyes wavered with unease, loneliness from isolation. Orsel kissed her forehead lightly.
“Don't worry. Freedom's near.”
“Mm... um...”
Her cheeks flushed; she fidgeted, uncharacteristically hesitant for her domineering self.
Only then did Orsel realize she was barely in her early thirties. Sold into loveless marriage at sixteen, over fifteen years in a lonely tower.
Jealousy and ambition had sustained her—now, stripped bare, she was just a desperate woman fighting to live.
Heh, pity from the likes of me.
He gave a wry smile, noting her enduring beauty despite her age.
Why did Count Collin ignore such a stunning wife?
He shook off her hand. Tears welled in Stera's eyes but didn't fall—Orsel had locked the door before turning back.