Audience (2)
When the audience with the king ended and Ellen stepped out of the great hall, Akard was waiting for him.
“Grand Marshal, why did you ask His Majesty for such an extravagant gift?”
“So you don’t like it?”
“Not at all. I’m simply too grateful.”
Ellen bowed his head. Akard looked as though he were gazing at a dear son.
“Remi… or should I call you Sir Veritati now?”
“There’s no need. Call me whatever you like.”
“Understood. Come along, then. I’ll guide you myself.”
Akard set off toward the royal treasury, and Ellen followed at his heels.
“Lord Akard, what brings you here?”
The warehouse keeper met them at the entrance.
“I’ve received His Majesty’s leave to let this young man take one item.”
“Yes, sir! Please wait a moment.”
The keeper produced a key—nothing like an ordinary one. It was elaborately decorated and laced with magic.
Click.
The key slid into the lock. At once the magic circle etched into the door began to glow.
Who put a ward like that in place?
The formulas were so intricate that Ellen could not even begin to follow them. It would take at least an eighth-circle mage to dispel the thing.
Still working perfectly after all these years.
Master, did you create that circle?
Hardly. It was already there before I ever became court mage. The protection is so complete that they never needed guards. No one knows who made it.
At Proveng’s words Ellen studied the circle again. The formulas were utterly foreign to him.
I can’t even get a feel for this magic. Who on earth could craft something like this?
Clunk.
While he was still lost in thought the last of the protective seals dissolved and the doors of the royal treasury swung open. Akard watched Ellen’s astonishment with a proud smile.
“In you go.”
Akard stepped through first. Ellen shook himself and followed.
“This is where the treasures of the Prode royal house are kept. Powerful anti-theft magic is layered over everything, so if you so much as touch the wrong item you’ll be in for a world of trouble.”
“Understood.”
The vault operated under the strictest rules. Access was limited to a handful of people; even the keepers themselves were forbidden entry except on official business.
Which only means the things inside are that precious.
“I hope you find something that suits you.”
Clunk.
The moment Ellen crossed the threshold the keeper shut the doors behind them. Inside, however, Light magic burned at regular intervals, keeping the chamber bright.
Cube-shaped glass cases stood in neat rows, each holding a single treasure. Ellen began with the nearest.
A massive sword rose before him, so large it looked as though two hands would struggle to lift it. Ellen’s eyes went round. He knew exactly what it was.
The Guardian’s Sword?
He had heard of it years ago while trailing clients through auction houses. It was the blade once wielded by Bane, the continent’s greatest swordsman, known as the Apostle of the Gods.
“Oh? You recognize it?”
Ellen had stood frozen before the sword long enough that Akard walked over.
“Isn’t this the Guardian’s Sword? These really are extraordinary pieces.”
“I told you—this is the royal treasury. Want it?”
“No. I’m a mage; swords hold no interest for me.”
Akard’s face fell in mild disappointment. Had the boy been a swordsman, he would have taken him as a disciple on the spot.
Ellen wandered the vault. It was vast; simply walking the aisles took time, and the sheer number of priceless relics slowed him further.
“You’ve got quite the curiosity, don’t you?”
Akard was beginning to tire. At first Ellen’s reactions had been entertaining, but after a full hour the novelty had worn thin.
“Have you chosen yet?”
That one.
The instant Akard asked, Proveng’s voice cut in.
What is it, Master?
It was already here when I served as court mage—and it’s still sitting there. The robe on the nearest stand to the left.
Ellen looked where Proveng indicated. A deep blue-black robe hung in its case. The air around it felt strangely stilled, as though the very atmosphere had settled.
He approached. Akard cocked his head.
“Interested in that? A mage would naturally eye a robe, I suppose. But no one has ever figured out how to use it. From what I’ve heard, it only carries simple household spells—Cleaning, Warmth, that sort of thing.”
Even Akard had wondered why a robe with nothing but convenience magic was stored in the royal vault. Since it was already there, no one had dared throw it out.
The fool doesn’t know a thing. Then again, with black magic users gone these days, it’s no surprise.
You know something about it?
Ellen’s voice thrummed with anticipation.
That robe massively amplifies the power of the wearer’s spells and dramatically improves efficiency, cutting mana consumption as well. It far exceeds the enhancement of any ordinary artifact you can imagine.
Is that true?
Ellen stared at the robe. A cold, profound energy seemed to wrap around him.
More importantly, its greatest function is erasing the wearer’s mana signature.
Mana signature?
Ordinary detection magic will never pin down your location. And the black mana that appears when you use black magic will almost certainly stay hidden as well.
Ellen’s face lit up.
The black-magic formulas Proveng had taught him let him cast far more efficiently—but they always left a scatter of black mana in the air. Because of that he had only ever used them in the chaos of battle, and even then only sparingly. With this robe he could unleash those powerful spells freely.
That would be perfect. But why has no one discovered these functions until now?
Because the robe runs on black-magic mana. With no practitioners left, of course they never noticed.
Ellen accepted the explanation. The royal treasury was open only to a tiny handful of people; few would ever have known the robe existed. And with black magic itself forbidden, no one would have been able to unlock its true nature.
“I’ll take this one.”
“You know something about it, don’t you?”
“Not at all. I have no idea what it does—I simply had a good feeling about it.”
Akard’s expression grew even more puzzled.
“A good feeling? The boy definitely knows something about this robe.”
Ellen only nodded in silence.
“Fine. It was useless anyway, since no one knew how to use it. Step back.”
Ellen moved away from the glass. Akard pressed his fingertips to the case and poured in his mana.
Tsutsutsut.
Some mechanism activated. Moments later the glass shattered into fine fragments—not melting, but breaking into countless tiny pieces.
Once the glass was gone, Akard lifted the robe free.
“Here. This is the gift His Majesty grants you. Continue to serve the Prode Kingdom well.”
He held the robe out. Ellen accepted it. The energy radiating from it was far stronger than when it had been sealed behind glass.
“Thank you. I’ll put it to good use.”
“His Majesty is waiting. He’s curious to see which treasure you chose. I’ll go ahead—put the robe on and join us.”
“Yes, sir.”
Akard left the vault wearing a satisfied smile.
“Did you find what you wanted?”
Outside, the warehouse keeper was waiting.
“Ah, yes. He chose the Robe of Silence. Make a note of it.”
“The Robe of Silence… understood.”
The keeper eyed the garment in Ellen’s hands and tilted his head slightly. Among the staff it had been regarded as little more than a white elephant; they were almost grateful to see it go.
“Find this young man a dressing room.”
“Yes, my lord.”
At Akard’s word a servant appeared as if from thin air and took charge of Ellen. Ellen had sensed the man’s presence, but an ordinary person would have thought Akard was speaking to empty air.
“Call for me when you’re ready.”
The servant who had led him to the dressing room withdrew with a silent reverse step.
Rustle.
Ellen unfurled the Robe of Silence. The calm that clung to it seemed to quiet even the surrounding mana.
Whoever named it chose well.
He slipped the robe on. At first it hung loose, as though it might slide off his shoulders—then it reshaped itself to fit his body perfectly.
Thump-thump.
The moment he wore it, mana flooded every corner of his body. He felt as though he could see each individual current traveling through his veins.
Notice anything different?
I’ve grown far more sensitive to mana.
Try casting something simple.
Ellen opened the dressing-room window.
Magic Missile.
He cast the improved version Proveng had taught him—the same refined form he had shown in combat, stripped of its black-magic components. A full black-magic casting would have produced a jet-black missile.
Pew.
This time it was different. A pure blue Magic Missile streaked away. The vivid trail it left in the air alone spoke of its power—far greater than Ellen had expected.
It wasn’t this strong even when I first learned it from Master.
The amplification is stronger than I estimated. At this level it’s packing roughly sixth-circle force.
This thing is incredible.
A single artifact had pushed his spell across an entire circle of power. Ellen almost laughed at the thought that anyone had ever dismissed it as a mere convenience robe.
He watched the path the missile had taken. He could now unleash magic of this caliber without constantly glancing over his shoulder. Fingers lingering on the deep blue-black fabric, he murmured,
Time to head back.
Having finished testing the robe, Ellen stepped out of the dressing room. The servant was still waiting.
“You’ve returned. His Majesty is waiting; allow me to escort you.”
The man moved with such precise, mechanical grace that Ellen half-wondered if he were a homunculus.
He soon stopped. The great hall was not far from the dressing rooms.
“Your Majesty, Sir Remi Veritati has arrived.”
“Admit him.”
The servant opened the doors without a sound. Alberto Prode sat upon the throne; Akard stood behind him. The king’s eyes found Ellen and he smiled.
“Ah. Is the gift I gave you to your liking, Sir?”
Alberto regarded the Robe of Silence with evident pleasure.
“I am overwhelmed by Your Majesty’s grace.”
“Good. Even at a glance it suits you well. In truth, I summoned you for another reason as well.”
Ellen lowered his head, ready to listen.
Alberto drew a sheet of paper from his robes. The royal seal of the Prode house was stamped upon it.
“This is my final gift to you.”