The Empty Castle
At the summit of the Washburn Mountain Range stood the Demon King's Ancient Castle.
This had once been the secluded retreat of Magnus, a Legion Commander, and the main stronghold of the 5th Legion.
But now, not a trace of that remained.
It was simply an empty castle.
"Well, well."
A middle-aged man was surveying the deserted fortress. A feathered cloak draped over his shoulders, he frowned and scratched his forehead — a necromancer belonging to Kizen's Crow.
"So he's long gone, is he."
An unexpected development. Any necromancer who knew Magnus's temperament could only be stunned by the fact that he had abandoned his own castle and fled.
The man swayed his feathered cloak as he scanned the surroundings. The place was silent and immaculate. It looked as though everything — down to the last object — had been carted off elsewhere. All that remained was a masterless, empty throne, and this sulfur-scented hot spring.
The man spoke.
"Search every floor down to the basement."
"Yes, sir!"
The agents waiting behind him bowed their heads.
"Extract clues by any means necessary."
"Understood!"
The agents blurred into afterimages as they descended to the lower levels.
Left alone, the Crow necromancer made his way over to the sulfur hot spring. Pale steam billowed up, and the air reeked of rotten egg shells. He knelt on one knee, dipped his fingertips into the water, and immediately drew them back.
"A distasteful hobby," he muttered.
"Right, right? Totally revolting, isn't it~"
Heavy footsteps came clomping up the stairs behind him.
"Think of all the effort we spent cornering him this far, and somehow the man knew to run beforehand. Unbelievable."
A young man, likewise draped in a Crow cloak, came sauntering over with both hands jammed in his pockets and a swaggering, slouched gait. His hair stuck out in strange, leaf-like spikes, and a peculiar twig he'd picked up along the road dangled from his mouth.
"There you are."
"Well, obviously, senior~ What else would it be?"
He stopped walking and smirked, the corner of his mouth curling up.
"Information is leaking from inside the Crow."
"…"
"Y'know, that one. 'Garlic'? No wait, was it 'Needle'? One of those necromancers? Senior Evangelos was a follower colluding with Magnus too, wasn't he? Which means there could be more spies inside the Crow!"
Grinning as he ambled along, he spread his arms wide.
"That traitor senior, he was gonna team up with Magnus and wreck Pentamonium in the middle of the academic conference, right? Then he got caught and his brain went *pop~* Kyahaha!"
"…"
"Oh, right! Sorry about that! You two were classmates back in your Kizen days, weren't you? Special Admission No. 3 and No. 2, was it?"
"Save the chatter and focus on the mission."
The senior necromancer said this and walked on.
"Geez, so stiff! You know there's nothing left to find here anyway~"
The junior bit down hard on the twig in his mouth.
Crack!
Crunch, crunch!
Crack!
And with that, tooth marks began to appear all over the ancient castle. On the solid brick walls, on the pillars — countless bite marks rose up as if the castle had been savagely chomped, spreading like a pattern across every surface.
"It really grinds my gears. It does. That Legion Commander with his freakish tricks — I swear I'll drag him out by the collar, senior."
CRUNCH!
A long gouge of tooth marks scored itself into the wall.
"But just hypothetically — just hypothetically, mind you! If there really is a spy inside the Crow, and they're quietly funnels— funneling information to Magnus right this moment…"
Snap.
The twig in his mouth broke clean in two. He spat it onto the floor — pah — and spoke in a voice gone cold as ice.
"I'll catch that bastard and chew him to bits. Won't leave a shred of flesh behind."
"Enough, enough."
When the senior's eyes flashed at him, the junior merely shrugged.
"Ye~es, ye~es. What's a year or two of seniority between us? I'll be a good boy."
He turned his back and strolled off in that bizarre, slouching gait of his.
"Ahh~ ahh~ if only my classmate Bahil were here, an investigation like this would be child's play! When's he coming back? Gonna spend his whole life playing professor, wiping the kids' noses for them? C'mon, come play in the field with me~!"
"Keeha-hahaha!"
Watching his junior descend to the lower floors with that unhinged laughter echoing behind him, the senior necromancer let out a long sigh.
Why is it that every single one of these young Crow recruits has a screw loose?
"Reporting in!"
Just then, a necromancer agent came running up and bowed his head.
"We swept all the way down to the underground levels, but there were no clues of note. Except for this."
The agent held out a piece of evidence with a gloved hand. The necromancer pulled on a glove of his own and examined it.
"A strand of hair."
White hair — and clearly cut, with uneven patches where it had been snipped.
"Magnus's appearance is confirmed as a lean build with white hair, worn long down to his waist. Did he cut it for the sake of his life on the run?"
"That's my read as well."
But for having taken over Magnus's main stronghold, this was a meager haul indeed.
"Any word from 'them'?"
"None."
"…Understood. Send that hair to headquarters. As for the rest — once reinforcements arrive, investigate thoroughly for any hidden passages or secret routes."
"Yes, sir!"
The agents scattered to their tasks.
The Crow necromancer walked over slowly and ran his fingertips along the tooth marks carved into the wall.
The Dresden Royal Library.
Housed in an entire building within the Royal Palace itself, the library was a renowned landmark of the continent. The successive kings of the Dresden Kingdom had been famous bibliophiles, collecting priceless books throughout their entire reigns.
The kingdom took such pride in this library that it often claimed its archive of historical documents was second to none — not even to Pentamonium's. Of course, since many of the materials were too rare and important to open to the public, access was now strictly controlled.
And it was precisely here that—
"Sera. Good morning."
"Yes."
A woman wearing black sunglasses and a crisply pressed suit was heading into the Royal Library for work. Passing the guards and the magic detection arrays as though she'd done it a thousand times, she stepped inside.
Ufufu, detection magic of this caliber is child's play for me.
Sliding her sunglasses down to the bridge of her nose, her blue eyes flashed crimson for an instant before returning to normal.
Her true identity was none other than Erzsébet, commander of the 7th Legion.
Having infiltrated this place on Simon's orders, she had swiped the personnel files and schedules of the palace librarians and was now posing as one of the staff members away on vacation.
Well, a date with our Legion Commander is at stake, so I'd better search extra hard~
She had one mission: to find information on the mysterious group that had captured and studied Karl, the Plague Beast — an Ancient Undead who once served Richard. All she possessed for the task were the documents written in an unknown language salvaged from that place.
The crux was the language itself.
Her plan was to comb through the ancient tomes of the Royal Library and learn more about these unidentified characters. The continent's history was long; before the continental tongue became standardized as it was today, countless languages had been used side by side — nation by nation, territory by territory, village by village. The script could well be one of them.
Erzsébet gathered every book related to extinct languages, settled into a corner, and spread them all out. Then she began comparing them against the characters in the book taken from Karl's dungeon.
Not this one either. Not that one either.
She was deep in her search when—
"Sera!"
A man who appeared to be the supervisor of 'Sera' — Erzsébet's disguise — poked his head in.
"Aren't you on vacation? What are you doing here?"
Erzsébet was alarmed inside, but she played it cool with easy agreement.
"Oh, you know. Once I'm actually home, there's nothing to do. It's like — that thing, right? Legitimately goofing off while everyone else works! There's nothing quite as healing as that!"
"Hmm… is that so?"
Her supervisor scratched his thinning hair.
"You're more of an oddball than you look. On my vacations, I can't even stand the sight of anything work-related."
"I may hate looking at work, but I love books. I figured I'd read to my heart's content while I have the chance."
"Fair enough. Do as you like."
He waved a hand and moved to leave. Erzsébet was just breathing a silent sigh of relief when the supervisor poked his head back in.
"Oh, right! I really, really hate to ask this while you're on vacation, but… could you take a look at this? It'll take five minutes. Just five, I swear!"
Yeah. That was the real point from the start, wasn't it.
Erzsébet rose from her seat with a smile. Refusing him would only blow the matter out of proportion for no reason.
Humans really do struggle and scramble through life, don't they.
She had anticipated this — before transforming, she'd made sure to study exactly what this 'Sera' woman's duties entailed.
Erzsébet grabbed only the book from Karl's dungeon and followed her supervisor.
"?"
Just then, Erzsébet's eyes narrowed.
The Royal Library was connected to the Royal Palace. And among the people streaming into the palace, there was one strange figure.
A woman whose face was swallowed in shadow, impossible to make out.
As a Legion spy well-versed in every manner of concealment technique, Erzsébet could tell at a glance. That was an extremely advanced stealth art. None of the other people around had noticed anything amiss.
Who is that? Why would someone that suspicious be entering the palace?
"You there, what are you looking at?"
Her supervisor turned to glance at her. Erzsébet snapped back to herself and quickly arranged her face into a smile.
"Yes, yes, coming!"
Inside the Dresden Royal Palace — a discreet reception chamber.
The shadow-veiled woman sat in her seat and took a sip of tea. The elderly man seated across from her spoke.
"How goes the research?"
"Passably."
She shrugged. The shadow over her face narrowed and widened with the shifting sunlight.
"Lately, though, the flies within my territory keep trying to drag outsiders in, and it's become a nuisance. Reporting to the Great Lord gets me nowhere, so it seems they intend to take the matter directly to the kingdom or the Dark Alliance."
"I'll see to that myself."
The elderly man folded his hands together.
"More to the point — you could have sent a letter. Why come all the way to the palace in person? I thought you were busy enough with your experiments."
"One of the arrangements the Elder has put in place."
She spread her hand open.
"It's here, isn't it? In this palace."
"It is."
"The Elder's orders are to begin preparing it, little by little. And I wished to see its condition for myself."
The elderly man nodded, his expression grave.
"Then follow me."
Simon was living through one chaotic day after another at Kizen.
The general-subject course 'Monarch Studies' in particular had to be taken among the third-years, and it taught everything — leadership for governing the people of one's territory, of course, but also administration, military science, law, geography, diplomacy, governance, etiquette, even composition.
The material to learn was a mountain.
"Student Simon Polentia. That is Dresden Kingdom etiquette now, not Baldwin's. Your fork is out of position."
"Ah — my apologies, Professor."
Simon, who prided himself on having learned court etiquette down to the last detail from his father Richard, found there was still plenty more to absorb once he actually sat in on the Monarch Studies lectures. For an elective, it was punishingly demanding.
But after having his brain scrambled by all that, his mood improved a little in the afternoons with Jane's Jet-Black Mechanics class.
"Simon~"
"Hey, you made it!"
The Student Council members, who by now could read each other with a single glance, greeted him warmly. Plenty of familiar Class A students were in this course too. Having so many friendly faces around — there was nothing better.
And it was Jane's class, after all. The lecture content was, without question, invaluable.
Then came Bahil's Curse Studies, and with it—
"Student Simon Polentia! Come up front, please!"
Bahil kept summoning Simon to the podium and making him do one thing after another. Simon had to sweat bullets and scrawl out curse equations on the spot in front of students from every other department.
It was, to say the least, overwhelming attention.
"So the Drain formula can be interpreted this way as well! Remarkable!"
Bahil heaped praise on everything, even calling Simon's mistakes original, and would launch into interpretations Simon had never dreamed of.
Simon felt his face burning with embarrassment.
"Welcome back, Bahil's man, Simon."
The moment Simon returned to his seat, Dick snickered and needled him. Simon glared at him, and he could see Camibarez and Meilin struggling to hold back their laughter.
And then there was the final class of the day. The real problem.
Hong Peng's Magic Combat.
For the first time in a while, he clung to the mountain goat trail and hauled himself up to the summit.
"Now then, shhtudentsh! I can shee your shtamina has dropped to absholute rock-bottom from all the eating, shleeping, and playing you did over the break, and it shaddens me!"
She clapped her palms together and smiled brightly.
"Sho! Firsht order of business: we're going to reshtore your conditioning to itsh original shtandard!!"
That was the moment to run.