The Mage's Melancholy (3)
Having finished his answer, Kriel calmly continued his meal. That unflappable demeanor somehow felt comforting.
"Most of it's right."
Armed began her own story only after Kriel had slowly walked away. "Do you remember what you said when we parted ways?"
Kriel paused, fork in hand. He'd been barely in his right mind, enduring the backlash from maxing out his skills. All he recalled was wanting to get out fast before he caused some incident. Amid that haze, when she'd asked if he wanted anything, he'd blurted out his usual "one coin," like always.
"When we parted? The one coin thing?"
"That was in the sickroom."
Kriel dredged up memories from Ket County. He'd fought the Wraith King till dawn, and by all accounts, slept for three straight days and nights. The moment he opened his eyes, Armed had appeared—looking like a blood-smeared monster thanks to his debuffs—and straight-up asked what he wanted. He'd shot back, "Spare a coin then," and left. That was it.
"...Doesn't matter if you don't remember. Anyway, after that."
After her territory nearly got swept up in the Wild Hunt, Armed had started rethinking the threats to the world. People often misunderstood when they heard "the Abyss, most dangerous of all," alongside "the three great calamities on par with it." But the three great calamities weren't specially tied to the Abyss. The Abyss was just so overwhelmingly perilous that it held permanent claim to the title of world's greatest threat.
Their histories were on entirely different scales. The calamities usually traced back to some origin in recorded history, but the Abyss? You had to delve into myth itself.
"We have ways to deal with the three great calamities, more or less. The Automaton Totality on the Western Front? The western army handles them. Wild Hunt? We can predict their paths and intercept. The Evil Dragon... well, it's just sleeping right now."
But the Abyss was different. It combined the Automatons' endless proliferation, the Wild Hunt's elusive strikes, and the Evil Dragon's raw power—all in one disaster. The real killer was the demonic corruption it inflicted.
The closer you got to the Abyss, the more that corruption fused with your very soul. No purification without sacrifice. Mages lost total mana capacity; warriors dropped aura mastery. A spiritual regression. And once corruption crossed a critical threshold, even isolating it became impossible. Soul and corruption indistinguishable.
Purification at that stage? Same as death.
Truth be told, reaching that point required serious evil deeds. Not some curse—you had to actively rack up murders. A pit only the willfully damned could reach. By then, the soul itself rejected cleansing.
So the Abyss Prevention Society's research split into two tracks: separating fully fused corruption from the soul, and purification without sacrifice. Both pursued for ages.
Ages of flat failure.
"Either way, clinical trials need more than a Monster—gotta be at least a Beast. Restrained ones that won't harm anyone? Rare as hell. Even with my annual budget, good specimens are tough to snag."
"Then a sponsor shows up."
"Yeah. I'd tapped family connections to scout private backers. That's when that idiot Mazhar Gabi crawls out of the woodwork."
Mazhar Gabi was the youngest son of the Gabi Merchant Guild, one of the empire's richest. No corruption scandals in their ranks. What caught their eye? The society's members were dirt poor. Mages desperate enough to bend pride for coin.
"Controllable with money"? Useful anywhere.
"Started simple: cash for services. Lend us a few society mages for caravan escorts. Our folks were so broke, wave some gold and they'd do anything."
Up to then, Mazhar was just a guild proxy. Pure business.
"But then succession drama hits their guild, right?"
Aha. Messy family ties crossing paths. Kriel pictured a young hotshot scheming past siblings for the top spot. Mazhar didn't look the ruthless chaebol heir from dramas, but the power hunger? Same breed.
"Question: Gabi a blood noble house?"
"Nah. They got history enough for 'house,' but no lands."
"Explains why they're after you."
Empire nobles fell into two camps: purest blood nobles, inheriting title by blood with inviolable land rights; and law nobles, elevated by office—merchant nobles, really, since titles were buyable. Never "true" nobles. No lands, no real power.
Armed Ket had her own holdings beyond the county governance—annual family funds from her lands' yield.
"Marry you, claim your lands? Instant blood noble status. Youngest son leapfrogs siblings in one stroke."
Armed sighed. Mazhar had just been daddy's errand boy in past deals. No mastermind for this ploy.
"Probably his old man's two wretched wives pulling strings. Dangle sponsorship, force marriage—boom, he skips brothers for guild head."
Armed hacked at her meat in irritation. I'm bailing on succession myself, but no—they gotta auction me off for peace of mind.
Marry into another house? You're an out-married outsider from then on. Customary chains barring home affairs.
Gut twisting, Armed sighed. "Ugh, damn it. Left the door unlocked for easy serving, and some moldy bastard comes crashing the mood."
Kriel's Earth-bred romance and war database fired up. After deep thought (three seconds), he hit on a fix for her mess.
"Just take a son-in-law."
"Huh?"
"Instead of you joining another house, bring someone into yours. Empire law recognizes it."
Armed shut her mouth. So that's why we're dining fancy—you gonna ask me to hook you up with a good knight from my vagabond days? The words nearly escaped. His deadpan face gave her a headache.
"Wedding too soon? Fake an engagement. Just need excuse to dodge Mazhar. Engagement might even be better."
"Plot with someone trustworthy, dissolve it later."
Watching her exact plan spill from Kriel's mouth, Armed nodded for now. Hers involved turning fake betrothal or sham son-in-law real when the time was ripe—but bad timing to say it.
"Shame. My circle's small—can't help much."
"...Huh?"
"Figured the lavish spread meant something. Was gonna ask you to intro a solid knight from my wandering days. Sorry I ate free, but the good ones I know are all taken."
Armed's instincts whispered: Just say it. Her reason chimed in: He won't get it unless you spell it out.
"You."
"Yeah?"
"You're it. Come to my house."
"...Yeah...?"
While baffled Kriel reeled, Orishin inwardly cheered with a standing ovation. This is knightly romance, right? Kinda weird, but still.
Then, a polite knock. Next course, servant signaling.
Armed clicked her tongue, unlocking the door. Dessert plate set down shakily. Trembling hands felt off.
"Who the hell are you?"
Armed raised her staff, shouting.
"Oh! Miss Ket! You recognize me no matter the guise!"
The server dropped the illusion magic, shoving his face forward. Obnoxious blond.
Armed sank into gloom.