Hunter, or Prey (2)
The gold-swallowing snake, Dieta.
She had stripped away the family name Arvenia and become a commoner, yet her days had changed astonishingly little. As always she sorted documents in her office and maintained cordial ties with her trading partners.
As a merchant, her routine was unaltered.
What had changed was her life as simply “Dieta.”
In the pauses between work, while sipping coffee, whenever her gaze drifted unbidden to the window—Dieta would let out a sigh before she even realized it.
“Haa…”
The trading company’s staff took those sighs for ordinary fatigue, the sort that came from too much work. But to Pasion, the knight who guarded her closest of all, they were nothing of the kind.
Dieta staring out the window with eyes full of longing.
It was the look of someone missing another person—the restless expression of a girl aching to see her lover. His mistress had never worn such a face before, so to Pasion it felt both unfamiliar and strangely refreshing.
She’s fallen hard…
Pasion let out a low groan.
He had been guarding Dieta for more than thirteen years now. At first he had taken the post at her mother’s request, but the years had piled up until, in his heart, he regarded Dieta as something like a little sister.
A cute younger sister with a wide gap in age.
And that little sister seemed to have found someone she liked.
Pasion, who doted on Dieta to an almost excessive degree, would under normal circumstances have marched straight to the man she had fallen for, interrogated him thoroughly, and rendered judgment… but knowing who the man was, he could do no such thing.
It’s that youth Ivan, without a doubt.
What sort of person was this Ivan?
Outstanding talent, a hard worker, and formidable skill to match. On top of that he was a romantic knight-aspirant who held pride, honor, and loyalty in rare weight—something scarcely seen in this age.
Even that much would have made it impossible for Pasion, as a knight, to score him stingily…
And then there’s more…
He had slipped into the villa and rescued Dieta.
He had risked his life fighting a knight-commander.
And in the end he had brought Dieta safely to Cambria.
In short, he was a benefactor before whom Pasion ought to drop to his knees and bow. And when Pasion replayed those events in his mind, he could only conclude that it was only natural his mistress had fallen in love. He let out another quiet groan.
He’s first-class husband material, no question.
A bright future ahead of him as well—there simply wasn’t a better catch.
The problem was that the youth called Ivan himself seemed to have no interest in romance. Few things were more pitiful than one-sided affection.
“Hoo…”
Watching his mistress gaze out the window and release what had to be her thirty-seventh sigh of the day, Pasion broke into a cold sweat. And then Dieta, in a tiny voice, murmured the words he had been dreading.
“I miss him…”
The whisper was almost inaudible.
Yet a knight’s superhuman hearing caught it anyway. Pasion was eyeing his mistress and seriously considering whether he ought to go fetch Najin when—
Knock, knock.
A knock sounded outside the door.
The secretary’s voice announced a visitor. Dieta was just thinking that no appointments had been scheduled for today when the door creaked open and someone stepped inside.
Anytime. Freely. Completely at ease!
She had stressed it over and over: if that person came to the company, simply send him quietly upstairs. And now that very person stood in the doorway.
“I came because I have a few things to ask.”
Najin was standing there.
Dieta’s eyes went round. Lips slightly parted, she blinked as if she had been struck over the head and left stunned.
“Dieta.”
Najin spoke her name.
They had gone back to square one on the matter of dropping formal speech, but they had at least agreed he would call her by name. He said it now because he wondered if she was refusing to answer for want of it—
“Hic.”
In this particular case, the address landed as a critical hit. Dieta’s ears flushed scarlet and she began to hiccup.
2.
Only after gulping down tea and taking several deep breaths did Dieta recover from the status ailment and open her mouth.
“So… you came to ask about the city of Regenoff, you said?”
The reason Najin had sought her out was simple: he needed information on the location of a commission he had accepted. After hearing his brief explanation, Dieta drummed her fingers on the table while she organized her thoughts.
“Regenoff used to be a city overrun by black mages. This was decades ago, but a fairly large black-mage group had seized the place.”
The den of black magic, Regenoff.
That was the name it had gone by tens of years past. Recalling what she knew, Dieta continued.
“They say the black mages swallowed the entire city. They brainwashed the lord and held him hostage, then cast a perception-interference veil over the whole place while they tried to establish some kind of cult.”
“That’s… a considerable scale.”
“Which is why it made it into the Empire’s official histories.”
How had that story ended, again?
Dieta murmured the question to herself, then clapped her hands.
“They got caught by the Empire, and the Royal Guard, along with palace knights and mages, wiped the city clean. I heard the Red Tower Master burned the place to the ground.”
“Burned the city?”
“That’s how deeply the black magic had taken root.”
Dieta rose, rummaged through a bookshelf, and handed Najin a volume—a history of the Empire’s modern era.
“Here it is. The Regenoff Annihilation Campaign.”
Annihilation.
A rather chilling word sat in the middle of the heading. As Najin leafed through the pages, Dieta kept explaining.
“That was roughly fifty to sixty years ago. Afterward a new lord was installed and the city was rebuilt. Since then it’s made quite a name for itself as a commercial hub… but it seems some troublesome incident has cropped up, hasn’t it?”
Najin nodded.
“A commission to subjugate black mages came in.”
“Mm. Sensitive enough reason to react. They only just managed to shed the nickname of a black-magic den; getting tangled up with black mages again would be a headache.”
Najin peered into the history book.
The Regenoff Annihilation Campaign.
The incident in which a black-mage cabal led by the seven-circle black mage Kepalon was purged, and every related element was annihilated by the Empire’s central government.
A seven-circle black mage…?
As he skimmed the entry, Merlin spoke up.
Someone you know?
“No, never heard of the bastard. But seven circles means he was a heavyweight. In today’s terms, roughly tower-master level.”
Circle—or ring—was the measure that ranked mages; Najin knew that much, but the precise scale still escaped him.
How strong is seven circles, exactly?
“Close to Sword Master.”
Merlin answered.
“Think of eight circles as Sword-Master tier. It’s not a perfect conversion, but from eight circles up they’re called Archmages. Seven puts you right on the doorstep of a Sword Master.”
The sense of it still hadn’t quite settled.
Najin had never experienced what a Sword Master could actually do, so that realm still felt like grasping at clouds.
“If we stacked you up as a mage right now, you’d be about four or five circles.”
That so?
“Yeah. Roughly that.”
Listening to Merlin’s explanation, Najin turned another page—and his finger stopped. Right in the middle of the account was a name he could not simply pass over.
Commander of the operation: Gerd.
He had heard the name before. The Empire’s first pillar, the man called humanity’s strongest—Sword Master Gerd.
“Ah, I heard Sir Gerd, who was still with the Royal Guard at the time, also took part.”
“The Sword Master Gerd?”
“It should be. He originally belonged to the Royal Guard.”
So it had been an enormous affair.
That was as much of an impression as Najin could form. The territory still lay beyond his experience; he could only sketch it in his mind.
“There shouldn’t be anything in particular to watch out for when you go to Regenoff. At most, an Inquisitor might be attached to the commission, so stay wary of that.”
“…An Inquisitor?”
Najin’s eyes narrowed.
Inquisitors. People tied to the churches—his nerves sharpened on instinct.
“Yes. The Holy Blood Church will probably dispatch one. Dealing with heretics like black mages falls under their purview. They’re a vicious lot, so it never hurts to be careful.”
Not the Holy Light Church.
Then it hardly mattered. Najin let out a short breath and closed the history book.
“Thank you for the information.”
“Was it helpful?”
“Yes, more than enough.”
Dieta smiled.
“But what to do? It’s still too early for thanks.”
At her gesture the secretary brought over a wooden case.
Inside were Najin’s recently repaired armor and a travel pack stuffed with assorted adventuring gear.
“A gift. I’ve filled the pack with goods from our company as well, so put them to good use.”
Dieta rose, shook out the mended armor, and stepped close to him.
“Stay still. Arms up.”
Piece by piece she dressed him.
Finally she checked the fit, adjusted the straps, and gave a faint smile.
“It suits you well.”
She handed him the pack of adventuring supplies and waved.
“Take care on the road.”
And when you come back, tell me the stories.
3.
“Ah, so you’re the adventurer called Ivan.”
A carriage bound for Regenoff.
A knight waited in front of it to receive Najin—dispatched on the orders of the lord who ruled Regenoff. He offered a handshake.
“Your reputation precedes you. I am Ilef.”
“A pleasure, Sir Ilef.”
They shook hands and climbed aboard.
On the ride toward the city, Najin heard the details of the commission from Ilef.
“Of late, suspicious movements have been detected in the city’s slums and underground waterways. Traces of black magic as well. We believe they are connected to the black mage Pauve, who fled after killing Inquisitors.”
“Is there more information on the target?”
“Of course.”
Ilef continued.
“Pauve is a mage of at least four circles; school unknown. Judging by the fact that she killed five Inquisitors, however, her level may be higher still.”
And as a special note—
He murmured the phrase, then spoke.
“She possesses a Masterpiece: Fire Shadow.”
The black mage Pauve was the owner of a Masterpiece.
At that, Najin immediately asked inwardly,
Anything you know?
“Never heard of that one either. Not every Masterpiece had been unearthed in our day.”
A Masterpiece even Merlin did not know.
Hoping for more, Najin waited, but Ilef only shook his head.
“We don’t know its effects. Only the name ‘Fire Shadow’ was recovered from the ruin where it was found. But according to the testimony of an Inquisitor who survived a clash with Pauve…”
He spoke shortly.
“He said: do not trust what your eyes see.”
Click.
Deep in the underground waterways, the sound of high heels echoed.
Click, click.
The companion to those ringing heels was a scream. Someone was shrieking as if their throat would tear, yet the cry never traveled far. Soundproofing magic had been layered thickly over the place.
Only one person heard that scream.
The owner of the heels hummed a little tune, as though the cries circling her ears were deliciously sweet.
Pauve, mistress of the clicking heels, dragged a human whose arms and legs had been severed toward the deepest reach of the waterway. The steps she took while humming were almost light-hearted. In truth, she was in an excellent mood.
“Our great senior really did lay a fine foundation, didn’t he? Don’t you think so too?”
The black mages trailing her nodded.
With three black mages and two living sacrifices in tow, she descended along the waterway. Decades ago the damned Empire had reduced the great senior’s plan to ruins, yet…
Even that effort had not been entirely wasted.
The facilities that the legendary seven-circle black mage Kepalon had built beneath this city had, in the end, escaped the Empire’s eyes. Not even the flames raised by the Red Tower Master had reached the workshop hidden in the city’s deepest layer.
The secret atelier of a legendary black mage who had once sought to topple a nation. Was that not a story to make one’s mouth water?
In the depths of the waterway Pauve flicked her fingers. Black mana rose and seeped into the wall… click—something depressed, and a passage leading farther underground revealed itself.
Click.
Just as she was about to step into it, she sensed a presence farther along the waterway. A soldier on patrol. His eyes went wide; he moved to signal the knights—
Pauve’s lips curved in a sly grin.
She tapped the lantern at her waist with the back of her hand. The light swayed, and a fire-shadow fell across the underground waterway. Defying the common sense that fire casts no shadow, the shadow of the flame swallowed the soldier’s vision whole.
Then—
Splash.
Without warning the soldier flung himself into the channel.
He drowned face-down in the water. No scream, no noise accompanied his death.
Ssshhh…
Only the sound of flowing water continued to echo.