Night Visitors and the Road Back to Kizen
Two in the morning.
The city at night, stripped of a single light and draped in a gloomy darkness, gave off a strange, almost mystical atmosphere. It was a face of the city that only the locals knew—the side that tourists, who pictured nothing but the lively metropolis of Langestin, never saw. On this night, while the whole city slept, a man in a black hood pulled low sat in a terrace chair, quietly taking in the nighttime scenery.
"Huaaaaahm."
A long, dragging yawn sounded behind him, cutting through his reverie. A man with a protruding belly and a thick beard running from his jaw past his upper lip and clear up to his ears came shuffling out onto the terrace.
The hooded man slipped the cigar from between his lips to his fingers and smirked.
"Tired, are we?"
"Don't even get me started, sir."
The bearded man smacked his lips and rubbed his eyes. "You show up at the crack of dawn and wake me clean out of bed—how am I supposed to not be tired?"
"You've adapted to city life remarkably well."
His gaze was fixed on the man's bulging belly and the clothes hanging loose off his frame. The bearded man chuckled and patted his stomach.
"They say you can get your nose slit for closing your eyes in this town, but once you settle in, it's not such a bad life. Truth be told, I'd take living day to day like this, tooth and claw, over watching a flock of sheep back on the steppe any day."
"What a lucky man you are."
The hooded man's tone made it clear he thought no such thing. The bearded man yawned again.
"I'm sleepy, so let's get to business. You said even you couldn't find that fella."
"Today I'm here about something else."
The man hurled the cigar off the terrace, then drew a single sheet of paper from inside his coat. It was a photograph taken with a mana camera.
"I'm looking for this boy."
The bearded man blinked as he studied the photo. "That's a Kizen uniform, ain't it? What business do you have with this young'un?"
"I hear he's Special Admission No. 1, living quite comfortably at Kizen. The name is Simon Polentia."
The bearded man's brow furrowed. "...Let me give you some advice, sir. Best not to get mixed up with Kizen. Students, especially—you don't ever lay a finger on the students. You know what Nephthys did to Ephnel after they terrorized a bunch of first-year brats? Even out here in the middle of nowhere, we've heard about it."
"I know."
He took the photo back and tucked it away. "Just tell me whether you can find him or not."
"Well, it's not like you'll have to search long. School season's starting soon, so he'll be coming to this city any—"
The bearded man stiffened and whipped his head around. "What is it?"
"...Someone's in my house."
Tiptoeing carefully across the floor, the bearded man poked his head toward the living room. A single mouse was scurrying about inside.
He let out a sigh of relief. "A mouse? On the third floor? When did that even get in here?"
Muttering in irritation, he grabbed the broom leaning against the wall. The mouse, engrossed in nibbling at crumbs of biscuits scattered about the room, paid him no mind.
"Good little thing now. Stay nice and still."
The moment he raised the broom with a hushed whisper, the mouse turned to look at him. Its eyes were gleaming, sharp and wild, like a beast's in the night.
"...!"
And as if on cue, hundreds of pairs of eyes lit up from the darkness of the house.
"AAAH-HUUUURK!"
The bearded man toppled backward in horror, the broom tumbling from his hands. Across the floor, a swarm of mice began multiplying beyond counting. The hooded man leapt to his feet as well.
"Damn it all! It's him!"
"Aagh! AAAAAH!"
The bearded man tried to flee to the living room to escape the hideous tide of mice—but now countless cockroaches were swarming over every wall, the floor, the ceiling, writhing in a seething carpet. He clapped his hands over his mouth and gagged.
Sliiiiiiide.
Something was rising up out of the darkness of the terrace.
A man.
He stood on the third floor with both feet planted on something so thickly seething that no one could have guessed what lay beneath them.
"Huuurk! HAAAAAURK!"
The bearded man frothed at the mouth with terror, while the hooded man grinned and drew a sword from his waist.
"You came to me of your own two feet!"
The man kicked off the ground and lunged. But with his first step, spots bloomed across his whole body; on the second, grotesque welts broke out over his skin; by the third, his hands and feet had turned a sickly yellow. The instant he took his fourth step, he let out a strangled moan and crashed to the floor, writhing.
"Guhk! Ghhhh—GGUHHHK!"
The swordsman thrashed in agony, foam on his lips. The bearded man could only tremble all over as he looked up at the midnight guest walking toward him across the terrace.
"Wh-what business—! I mean, sp-spare my life, at least!"
"Just now," the guest's lips parted, "you said the name Simon Polentia?"
"Simon! Do you have all your things packed?"
"Yes! All packed, Mom!"
He came downstairs from his second-floor room in the early hours of the morning to find a freshly pressed Kizen uniform laid out in the living room. Anna had washed it with special care so that the dark magic woven into it wouldn't be damaged.
Simon picked up the uniform—clean as new—and held it gingerly. So I finally get to wear this again. Feeling a little moved, he changed into it. The moment he slid his legs into the black trousers, tailored much like a formal suit, he felt the smooth, supple texture of the fabric. Then came the belt, and after that the white shirt. He buttoned it up, knotted the red tie on top, and finally draped the jacket bearing the Kizen crest over his shoulders with a flourish.
In the mirror, he could see a boy with a sharp, suit-like fit to his silhouette.
It feels like the day I first enrolled at Kizen.
He was turning this way and that before the mirror when Anna appeared from the kitchen. With practiced hands, she popped an apple pie into her son's mouth and tidied up his tie herself. Then she stepped back a pace, clasped her hands together, and gazed at him in his uniform with flushed cheeks.
"Oh my~ our boy's all grown up now. I really did raise you right."
"Are you ready, Simon?"
The door opened and Richard walked in. Beside him stood a man draped in a brown robe.
"Who is this, Father?"
"A henchman of Kizen, dispatched personally by Lady Nephthys. He's prepared a teleportation circle in the yard."
The henchman bowed respectfully. "Student Simon. I have prepared a magic circle that will take you to the outskirts of Langestin. From there, a carriage ride of two hours or less will bring you to your destination."
"Ah—thank you so much for going to the trouble!"
Kizen really was Kizen. He'd felt it during his trip to the Holy Federation as well, but teleportation circles were genuinely rare and precious. The kind Kizen freely offered even to its ordinary students was, in truth, a device that cost astronomical sums and enormous manpower and effort to maintain. Most commoners went their whole lives and died without ever riding one.
"I'll be waiting outside."
The henchman stepped out, and the moment of farewell drew near. Richard gripped Simon's shoulder and rattled off everything he'd need to watch out for—down to how to handle things if a professor or another student caught wind of the Legion. Beside him, Anna was setting out stack after stack of lunchboxes.
—To Miss Camibarez Ursula.
In the end, Anna had packed a lunchbox for every single member of his group. Each note bore a friend's name and a little drawn heart, along with a short message: Please take good care of our Simon, and good luck with your school life!
Simon committed every one of Richard's tips to memory, carefully stowed Anna's lunchboxes in his subspace so they wouldn't get crushed, and bowed politely.
"I'm off."
Stepping outside, he saw the magic circle glowing in the yard. Simon took his place before it, and Richard and Anna came out after him. Anna finally broke into tears, and Richard gently drew her into his shoulder. She leaned into him.
"Be careful, Simon! Just because you're inside Kizen doesn't mean you can ever relax like you do at home. Give it everything you have—strip the knowledge and know-how of the era's finest necromancers and make it your own!"
"Just come home healthy, you hear? And don't skip your meals!"
Simon bowed once more, deeply, to his parents, then turned and stepped onto the teleportation circle.
Finally. I'm on my way—to Kizen!
Simon's feet lifted softly off the ground.
It was on another level entirely from the teleportation circles he'd experienced in the Holy Federation. When he opened his eyes, he found himself in a small country village—a kind of satellite town built to relieve the absurdly overcrowded Langestin.
Carriages were lined up along the carriage road waiting their turn, while drivers and passengers haggled over fares. Simon joined the queue, and his turn came quickly; he climbed aboard.
"To Langestin, please."
"Yes sir! Sit back and enjoy the ride!"
The carriage set off, and Simon began reviewing the homework he still had left for the break. They'd said it would take about two hours, and time truly did fly. He was deep in working through a few problems when the driver announced they'd be arriving in Langestin shortly.
Only then did Simon lift his eyes from his homework and look out the window.
"Wow...!"
Langestin—the capital of the Dresden Kingdom and the port city closest to Roc Island. It was every bit as breathtaking as the first time he'd left Leshill and laid eyes on a great city. Towering buildings stood shoulder to shoulder, carriages cut recklessly across the roads, and the streets glimpsed between them were packed with endless rivers of people.
Simon's carriage came to a halt right at the very edge of Langestin.
"Sorry, but outside carriages can only go this far. This neighborhood's terrible about outsiders."
"No, I'll walk from here. Thanks for the ride!"
Simon paid the fare and stepped down, then closed his eyes and drew in one deep breath. The jumble of countless overlapping voices echoed in his ears like a chorus.
First things first—I'll meet up with Kami.
Dick had said he had errands to run in Langestin, and Meilin was arriving tomorrow. Meeting Camibarez first seemed like the fastest option.
Simon made his way up Langestin's hilly streets at a leisurely pace.
She said she'd be waiting at Campbell Road, right?
Campbell Road was the street that sold necromancer supplies. He remembered visiting it with Lorraine before enrollment, buying his subspace and his textbooks.
Simon walked along, sifting through old memories.
Then again, this place is higher up than I remembered.
He'd noticed it before, but the city's hills were seriously steep, and getting to the main commercial district meant trudging up with sweat pouring down. There was even a joke that the only things you gained from living in Langestin were cunning and leg muscle.
Clop clop!
Just then, as Simon was huffing his way up the slope, a carriage traveling the road beside him came to a stop.
"Hey there~ boy!"
Simon froze mid-step. The carriage door clicked open, and a pair of legs showing off a woman's graceful curves shot out. A moment later, the door swung wide open, revealing a woman with long, sun-kissed sandy hair streaming in the wind.
As Simon stood there staring blankly, she nudged her sunglasses up with her index finger and grinned.
"Long time no see, Simon~ Came to get ready for the new semester?"
"Serne!"
It was Serne Eindark—Kizen's Special Admission No. 2, and the official heiress of the Ivory Tower.
She narrowed her eyes playfully. "Where are you headed?"
"...Why do you ask?"
First rule of thumb: always be on guard around Serne. She stepped aside and patted the seat she'd just vacated, pat-pat.
"Langestin's a maze. Hop in! I'll take you right to wherever you're going."
"No, really, there's no need to—"
"What do you think you're doing!"
Just then, angry shouts erupted from all along the carriage road.
"Is that woman insane?!"
"Why's she parked dead center in the road spouting nonsense?!"
Serne turned toward the drivers shouting furiously, gathered her long sandy hair in one hand, and swayed her head gracefully from side to side. Her velvet-soft hair billowed, and white feathers fluttered out from within it, planting themselves one after another in the drivers' necks. Their faces flushed, and their expressions melted into dreamy, goofy grins.
"Ehehehe."
"Hey, a carriage can stop for a minute, can't it."
"Life stays healthy when you take it slow, that's what I always say."
Simon gave a wry laugh at the drivers' about-face. When the passengers inside begged them to keep moving, the drivers actually started snapping at their own riders. For a moment, traffic across all of Langestin ground to a halt.
"Are you going to keep a lady waiting?"
Serne patted the empty seat again with her palm, pat-pat, and smiled.
"...Sigh."
In the end, Simon climbed up into the carriage. When she cooed, "Off we go~" in a honeyed, cutesy voice, the driver shook the reins and the horses started forward.
"Where are you headed?"
She put her sunglasses back on and chuckled.
"Campbell Road."
"You heard him, Mister Driver?"
The driver's silhouette was visible only faintly through the thin cloth. He moved the reins, turned the horses' heads with practiced ease, and pulled into a side alley.
Serne stretched her long legs out, crossed the other leg over them, folded her hands atop her knee, and smiled sweetly.
"Once we're back at Kizen, another stretch of brutal, cutthroat days begins, hmm? Looking forward to a full semester with you."
"Yeah. Thanks for the ride."
"Oh, don't mention it~ Just one more stamp for my collection—"
"I'll get off."
"Ahaha! Kidding, kidding!"
He hadn't thought much of it, but with Serne going on and on about stamps, stamps, it was starting to bother him somehow.
Just then, Serne rapped her fist against the back of the driver's seat—the driver's back just beyond the thin cloth—knock knock.
"Mister Driver. Are you really not going to say hello? It's been almost two months, you know."
"..."
Who on earth is he talking about?
Then the thin cloth was drawn back, revealing an extremely familiar face.
Grey hair, a long scar over one eye, a wolf-like sharpness to his jaw and gaze.
The meeting in a place he'd never expected made it all the more welcome.
Simon shouted out loud.
"Kajan!"