The Letter to the Past
Elliot Trayer — or Rai as he now called himself — leaned against the academy wall with his arms crossed, a lazy grin tugging at his lips.
He flicked his wrist, sending a faint pulse of light into the air. A miniature communication magic circle shimmered into existence, hovering above his palm like a lazy dragonfly. With a casual flick of his fingers, he sent the letter through the academy’s ancient wards to the imperial post office and then to Juan Trayer at the Treier Territory.
One scroll went to Leila Cloud at the academy, formal and crisp. The other headed straight for the lord of the former Kailen Kingdom, now safely under imperial protection.
Why does it still feel weird after all these years? he thought, watching the light fade. But old habits die hard.
Zeroa stood nearby, fidgeting with the hem of his tunic, his soft eyes darting around as if he expected someone to scold him for existing.
“If it’s Viscount Juan Trayer… the former deputy chief of the Ten Thousand Evils who joined the Empire… right?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper, glancing at the others for confirmation.
The others nodded. Even Asran — who still struggled with perfect grades — knew every single name in the old Ten Thousand Evils force. No one in their little group had missed that detail.
Diana snorted, slinging an arm around Zeroa’s shoulders. “And there’s more, Zeroa. The place we’re heading is Trayer Territory — the Devil of All Nations’s old estate.”
Zeroa blinked, confused. “Wait… can we really go? This is the Empire’s land now, and they’ll eat us alive, right? But Juan Trayer Viscount is loyal to the Empire, so maybe it’s fine? And Rai-kun’s friend is the Viscount?”
Diana narrowed her eyes at Rai, waiting for the punchline.
Rai just shrugged, grinning. “Yeah. Back when we were smashing each other’s faces in during the Era of War, we became thick as thieves. Real close.”
“Oh— you were part of the Eastern Front?” Asran asked, eyes lighting up at the mention of the bloodiest battlefield of the war.
Rai shook his head. “Nah. Not under Edelian.”
“Then… Rai-kun’s actually Intelligence Department, not the army?” Diana tilted her head, suspicion clear. “That explains the suspiciously long career. Right?”
Rai gave a casual shrug again. “Something like that.”
Philia watched the exchange, arms folded, her polite smile hiding the knot of worry in her chest. Every time Rai spoke, she braced herself for the next bomb.
Rai noticed and let out a soft chuckle, reaching over to ruffle her hair. “Relax, Philia. Juan-ssi is a good guy.”
“Aah! Rai-kun, me too!” Diana protested, lunging forward.
Rai obliged, patting Diana’s head with the same easy affection. Philia exhaled a tiny, defeated sigh. She knew the rules by heart: the red-haired legend who had once been the Devil of All Nations had erased his color years ago, but the face underneath hadn’t changed. Some villagers still remembered it perfectly.
Yet Rai never seemed the least bit tense. He just laughed it off like it was the weather.
“The Trayer Territory is famous as a tourist spot too, you know,” he said, trying to sound casual.
Asran scratched his head. “Eh?”
“Wait… you didn’t know?”
Rai stared at the confused warrior, processing the statement. Tourist spot? His memories had always pictured fertile farmland and nothing more.
“Because it’s the Devil of All Nations’s old domain,” Diana explained, “people flock there looking for his traces. The Viscount turned it into a full-blown tourist attraction to boost the estate’s income.”
Rai let out an awkward, sheepish smile and clapped Juan on the shoulder when they reached him. “Impressive, Juan-ssi.”
The three students — Asran, Diana, and Zeroa — had no idea how to react to that casual praise, but the heavy footsteps behind them answered for them.
Thirty years. That was how long Butler Tepes had served the Trayer family, watching three generations of owners come and go with the same quiet dedication. Today, the letter had arrived from the academy.
He opened it without much fanfare — most letters through the magic post office were just investment scams anyway. But this one was addressed to Juan Trayer himself.
The Empire has eyes on this place. They won’t let it rest.
Tepes read every line, expression hardening into stone. He tucked the letter away and returned to the paperwork on his desk, movements calm and precise.
Eventually he rose, heading for the study.
“Hoo… hah!”
The lord of Trayer Territory stood in the center of the room, shirtless, sweat glistening on his broad back as he swung a heavy training sword at an old training dummy. Each strike landed with a thunderous crack that split the wood.
“I told you not to swing here — the furniture could get damaged!” Tepes called out.
“Been saying that for ten years now. Have I ever scratched the furniture in ten years?”
Juan laughed, muscles rippling like ancient mountains, the kind of power that made lesser men step back. He wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.
Tepes set the papers on the desk and sighed. “There’s always the ‘what if’ clause, sir. Ancestral furniture is fragile. And it’s time for your duties.”
“A little more, Tepes-ssi. Just a thousand swings. No rush.”
“Duty time.”
Juan finally lowered the sword, eyes meeting Tepes’ with the same sharp intelligence he’d had at twenty. He pulled on his shirt and sat at the desk.
“Village harvest estimates and garrison recruitment numbers. And a letter from the academy.”
Juan scanned the figures, then broke the seal on the academy letter. The ornate prose promised… absurd investment returns. Still, he spotted the hidden code. His expression didn’t change.
He knew that code. He had helped design it.
The Devil of All Nations had made the army’s encryption so complex that only the top few knew the full layers — and Juan had been one of the very few.
The letter hit the desk with a soft thud.
“Hahahaha! This guy really knows how to catch me off guard. ‘There’s something in it.’ Heh.”
“Master always enjoyed a good laugh, sir,” Tepes replied smoothly, a faint smile on his lips.
“How the hell did he survive? The Emperor liked him, but how did he dodge the execution? Did he charm the Emperor or something?”
“People always gathered around him, sir. Even His Majesty couldn’t refuse.”
“Honestly? Not that much charm. He was a lost cause.”
“Call it charisma, then.”
Juan corrected himself with a chuckle. The two old men looked at each other, wrinkles carved deep by decades, yet their eyes still burned with the same fire they’d had at thirty.
“I’ll have to keep an eye on the villagers then,” Juan said, leaning back. “Why do they have so much curiosity about a place with nothing interesting?”
“Moving half the garrison to the Harott border should be enough to divert the Intelligence Department agents,” Tepes suggested.
Juan nodded, already planning.
“I’ll bring back some excellent pâtissiers. Still don’t know if the old man enjoys profiteroles after all this time.”
“He eats anything. No picky palate.”
“But it’s been a while. I should serve something from the old days.”
“Old memories? Like mud soup?”
Juan chuckled at the thought of the battlefield he and the Devil had walked together.
—
“Wow… there really are a lot of people here,” Rai muttered, staring at the bustling streets of Trayer Territory.
The city had changed more than he expected — far more developed than his memories. The streets felt crowded, alive, nothing like the quiet farmland he remembered.
Philia kept glancing around, clearly uneasy with the stares. Asran and Diana noticed too, tension in their shoulders.
“I feel like eyes are following us,” Zeroa whispered.
“Are we not welcome here?”
“This guy’s the reason,” Rai said, pointing straight at Abigail.
Asran and Diana burst out laughing. Abigail’s face twisted in irritation.
“Don’t talk about me like that, you idiot,” she growled.
Rai just grinned. “That’s right. Those glances are mostly from middle-aged and older locals who remember the Devil of All Nations — or rather, they remember the red hair and eyes.”
Philia finally understood. The villagers had always been proud of their guardian spirit, but the Devil had never shown his face in the territory after Margos’ fall.
“He couldn’t come back,” she murmured. “Too powerful. Too much of a slave.”
Rai rubbed the back of his neck, feeling strangely embarrassed. “Yeah… that’s why I was never worried about coming here.”
A kindly old man in the distance had been watching them. Philia tensed, ready for trouble. The man shuffled past, eyes locked on Abigail for a long moment, then stopped directly in front of her.
“An old man apologizing for speaking first. What is your surname?”
Abigail’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Don’t talk to me about the Devil of All Nations thing.”
The old man’s friendly demeanor vanished. His eyes turned ice-cold as he looked at her.
“Not the Devil of All Nations — the savior of Trayer.”
Philia blinked, startled. Rai’s face burned with embarrassment as he turned away.
“Here, it’s better not to use those titles. There are still a lot of people who remember the… savior.”
The old man smiled faintly. “Whatever you say.”
“Then I’ll go home and spit into my beer…”
Abigail’s face twisted in confusion. “What?”
Diana explained with a laugh, while Rai leaned close to Philia and whispered, “Trayer people don’t recognize the Devil anymore.”
Philia’s eyes widened. “So they only remember the red hair… because he abandoned the territory and wandered the battlefield for years?”
“Exactly.”
That explained everything. The villagers had never seen his face. The Devil had been too dangerous — too much of Margos’ slave — to return.
“If he’d stayed in the territory for even a year, he’d probably still be there,” Philia said softly.
Rai sighed. “That’s why I wasn’t worried.”
Philia looked at him with gentle, pitying eyes. He grumbled, “I didn’t want to say that.”
Further down the street, the old man spat on the ground and shuffled away, muttering something about northern troublemakers.
Zeroa tilted his head. “What did he say?”
“Probably the north hates the Devil of All Nations and the south praises him,” Asran explained.
“For real? That’s weird.”
Asran looked unconvinced. “I thought you were exaggerating when you heard it from a friend, but now I see it’s true.”
Philia spoke up, trying to clarify the policy. “It’s part of the assimilation policy. The Devil’s power was too great, so they’re slowly integrating the people into the Empire instead of forcing everything.”
“That makes sense. It’s impressive.”
“There are downsides too. Even after ten years, resistance groups still operate. And the friction between people who used to be Kailen citizens and those who always served the Empire is still there.”
Rai chuckled, pointing behind them. “Let’s greet the old man who came to welcome us instead.”
Behind him, Juan Trayer strode forward with a group of soldiers, massive frame unmistakable even from afar. Their eyes met.
Juan’s face split into a wide grin. “Rai…? Is that you, Rai?”
“Yeah, old man. Long time no see. Forgot my name already?”
“How could I forget…? I couldn’t forget… I couldn’t…”
Juan approached with heavy, familiar steps, clapping Rai on the back like old times. “Lost some weight? Eating poorly these days?”
“Been eating like crap lately.”
“Let’s go — Tepes prepared a feast…”
Juan started to pull Rai along, then noticed Abigail. “The… daughter of the Devil of All Nations?”
Rai glanced at her, and both Asran and Diana burst out laughing. Abigail’s face darkened.
“Not that. But you have a good eye. Welcome anytime, friend of Rai’s.”
Juan laughed heartily and led the entire group toward the Trayer Castle.