Chapter 79: A Hidden Mage Is Hard to Flush Out
Mages were versatile beings. Ian himself had all sorts of tricks up his sleeve, and it was standard for other mages to hide one or two aces as well.
Most mages didn't bother concealing their identity. There was no gain in it. Revealing yourself as a mage earned you all sorts of respect, while pretending to be a common beggar left you wide open to a blind stab from some drunkard—and you'd have no one to blame but yourself. Mages were human too; a knife from a drunken lout would send you straight to the afterlife just the same.
But the opponent Ian now faced was a mage who hid their identity. One likely under noble protection, no less.
First, beef up security.
Ian prepared countermeasures before the same trick could strike again. He scattered birds to weave a surveillance net while requesting the nobles' cooperation to bolster the guards. Assassins were a castle-wide security issue, so even the wives pitched in without complaint.
"Until this is over, we'll all sleep together."
"...?"
Belenca had volunteered for close protection duty herself, though her definition of "close" was a bit extreme. Ian was content with moving to a windowless room, but Belenca dragged Kira in too, opting for the three of them sharing a bed outright.
Ian, feeling a touch embarrassed, ventured, "Men and women should keep their distance, but sharing a bed like this..."
Belenca tilted her head. "Men and women keeping distance? What's that supposed to mean?"
"..."
Ah. This was Confucianism. The philosophy that promoted separating the sexes. These barbaric Western fantasy folk knew nothing of the Master's teachings. No wonder their sense of personal space was so alien.
"Sounds like nonsense anyway. And you spout it like it's nothing after all this time."
"No, really—is it okay to sleep with a guy?"
Only then did Belenca grasp Ian's point (there'd been a slight translation hiccup), her ears tinting red as she snapped irritably. "Ugh! Just gloss over stuff like that! If I asked you how it feels sharing a bed with a full-grown virgin, would you like it?"
"Ah..."
Come to think of it, she had a point. Belenca was just protecting her comrade and employer by bunking nearby; no need to harp on gender norms.
Ian apologized readily. "Sorry."
Belenca snorted and turned to Kira. "Kira, you're fine with it, right?"
Kira replied in her signature haughty tone. "Of course. Kinda thrilling, actually?"
"Lucky you. Really."
It had been a hassle, but the security measures worked wonders. No further assassination attempts came. If anything, as Ian aggressively hunted the culprit, he sensed the enemy pulling back.
Feeling their hesitation, Ian expanded his investigation net even further.
Assassin. Plains monsters. And the baron.
A connection emerged between these disparate incidents. The assassin had been a trained monster, and the raiders on the village were werewolves commanding dire wolves.
A summoner actively deploying monsters.
The mage who attacked Ian had made one fatal mistake: failing to scout his summoning skills.
They'd assumed Ian was purely an Umbrakinesis user—and they weren't wrong. But they had no inkling he dabbled in every school of magic under the sun.
What's more, among Ian's arsenal, his highest-leveled magic was Summoning.
Ian possessed deep knowledge of summoning. Using it as his foundation, he tracked the summoner's trail.
Assassin: monster. Werewolf: monster... So?
Ian pondered calmly. If a summoner had used monsters to sabotage the baron... Was that too much of a stretch?
More than plausible.
Ian resolved to pursue the clues to their end. The key holders were the baron's two wives.
A few days later, he sent messages summoning them one by one to the baron's sleeping quarters.
#
Serena arrived alone at the baron's room. The moment she opened the door, a raven cawed a greeting.
"...?"
Thinking it some prank, she glanced around, but spotted nothing unusual beyond the bird.
Then she jumped in shock. A young man with jet-black hair—Ian Eredis Raven—had appeared before her out of nowhere.
"Wh-what?!"
Serena was genuinely startled by Ian. No one had been there moments ago?
She didn't know it, but this was sleight of hand. Oberon had first drawn her gaze, allowing the hidden Ian—shrouded in shadows in a dark corner—to step out.
"Nothing much. Just a simple test."
"...Test?"
Ian shrugged. "I had Oberon say a phrase any mage would react to. Looks like you couldn't understand him."
"What phrase...? Was it an insult?"
Serena's eyes narrowed. Even if spoken by a raven, an outright curse would sting.
Ian replied coolly. "It said to prepare your confession to the heavens."
"...Pardon?"
"Check behind you."
As Ian instructed, Serena turned—and froze. A knight in black armor was rummaging out of the wardrobe: Belenca, crossbow in hand.
Serena trembled. "Y-you're going to... kill me...?"
Ian chuckled in disbelief. "Why would I kill you? That's insurance. If you were a mage, she'd have shot before you could pull any tricks."
"..."
Belatedly, Serena pieced it together. Oberon's eerie words to make her turn, then Belenca's bolt from the wardrobe the instant she did. A trap tailor-made for a summoner.
As stated, it was a test.
But grasping the ploy didn't quell her anger. "Unbelievable! How dare you pull this in the baron's bedroom!"
"You gave me access."
"To treat the baron, not lay traps!"
"True. I wanted to heal him normally. But without traps, we couldn't save him."
"What do you—"
"What if I said the one who sabotaged the baron is the same who attacked me? Would you believe it?"
Ian explained steadily. "I've pieced together clues pointing to a summoner felling the baron. Still just a hypothesis needing verification—and that's why you're here."
"..."
"I'll ask the same of Lady Catherine too."
Serena clenched her fists, glaring. "As I said before, I have no reason to harm the baron. I love him, and my son stands to inherit!"
"I get it. I don't think you touched him either. But..."
"But?"
"Frankly, my trust in this world has tanked lately..."
"???"
Serena blinked, baffled. World? Trust levels? What?
Belenca cleared her throat. "Ian."
"Ah, sorry. Point is, I don't know everything, so you might have hidden circumstances—like secrets tied to that youthful beauty of yours..."
"Flattery now?"
"Not flattery—sincere. You look like you're still in your blooming years. No, you're a full bloom, Lady Serena."
Serena reflexively smiled, forgetting the near-murder plot moments ago. It was unavoidable. No woman could let praise like that slide off unheard. In this media-poor, low-stimulation era, even mild compliments hit deep. Modern folks inured to internet cringe brushed it off with a laugh, but here, light pandering pierced the heart.
Ian had just tossed out casual banter. Peruse any forum or YouTube comments—his line was forgettable in a second. But Serena ate it up, to Belenca's utter disbelief.
"Ian, are you here for an affair?"
"No, what kind of horror is that!"
How dare she utter such deviant NTR nonsense in front of others! Ian was an extreme pure-love purist. Forced pure love beat contrived NTR any day—it was even in the classics. Plain NTR was bad enough; married-woman NTR? The sleeping baron would rise from his bed in fury!
"Disrespectful with the baron right here!"
"...And you're the one spouting that crap in front of him?"
"Huh. Fair point."
Now that he thought about it, this was the baron's bedroom. If he bolted upright, Ian would be speechless.
Anyway.
"Be honest, Lady Serena! Why do you look so eternally young!"
"Even if you ask me..."
"Some magic? A secret I don't know? Colluding with a mage?!"
"Nothing like that! What can I do about how I was born?!"
"Don't lie! No magic explains that face otherwise!"
Serena flushed. She truly looked like a fresh woman in her mid-twenties.
"S-stop teasing!"
"Do I look like I'm joking? This is serious investigating! Spill it! What's the secret to that youthful glow?! How do you stay looking twenty-something!"
"Urgh...!"
Belenca eyed Ian coldly. Sure, it was worth checking, but why did it look like flirting?! She tsked as he peppered the lady with odd terms, half-wishing the baron would wake and end it.
#
After the interrogation, Ian cleared Serena of suspicion. Truth be told, he'd never strongly suspected her. It was just this fantasy world demanding he doubt everyone to the end.
Reasonable deduction didn't thrive here. It violated the Detective Fiction Rules: No Chinamen head-on. The term "Chinaman" in Knox's Decalogue meant "mysterious Eastern conjurer." Westerners lumped all unknown Oriental ways as mystical.
In a world where magical twists were par for the course, even Serena might hide something... but investigation proved her innocent.
While the baron lay ill, she'd driven off monsters and maintained castle order. As she said, no motive to harm him.
The sole mystery—her ageless beauty—was just genetics.
Serena wasn't the mage's employer. She pledged full support to save the baron.
That left one.
Lady Catherine.
Thinking back, Serena had flagged Catherine from the start. A shepherdess turned baroness overnight? Suspicious.
Was Catherine wielding magic? Or mere coincidence?
"Mage? You called for me~?"
Ian opened his eyes in the dark room. Catherine had come alone, as expected. The castle's most secure spot needed no extra caution.
Ian tested her magical aptitude like Serena's. Result: she couldn't understand Oberon at all. No mage.
So...
"Mage? This raven..."
"Like a friend. Name's Oberon."
"Oberon here, milady!"
"!!!"
Catherine startled at the talking bird. Street performers managed it too, but a mage's flair made it profound.
"M-mage, you control animals?"
"More like chat with them. I do Summoning, remember."
Ian stroked Oberon slowly. The purring was pure chicken.
Missing it, Ian didn't catch Catherine's eyes wavering.
"Then... mage, any other summons in this room besides the raven?"
Ian paused his petting. "What do you—"
Catherine stepped closer. Belenca aimed her crossbow, but Ian signaled to hold.
Hidden Belenca missed it, but Ian saw: Catherine's eyes shaking with anxiety and pain.
"...None. A few bugs hiding, but Oberon's cleared them."
No sooner had Ian spoken than Catherine shuddered, whispering, "Besides that raven... there's another summon in this room. Mage."
"Where?"
Catherine answered. "In me... and his gut. One each."
"..."
"No time... please... help me... mage..."
Ian realized. Catherine wasn't the mage's patron.
She was the mage's captive.