Rakatus (01) 010: The Duke's Desperate Bargain
'...A staff?'
The staff hanging from his waist didn't suit his age. That was Everchan Rakatus's first thought upon seeing Kalen.
The monocle suited the boy's appearance well—it was something mages often used to assist with incantation calculations. But a staff, meant for amplifying power—a purpose now obsolete—felt out of place.
"Elder... you learned magic from Lord Blamia."
"Yes."
"But not as a disciple or successor..."
To ascend to a position like head of the Rakatus family, excellence in all areas was a given. That included sizing up opponents through simple conversation.
"What an interesting play."
"It's true."
"Well, that's fine enough. What truly interests me is..."
Everchan released his chin from his hand and pointed at Kalen with a finger.
"Did you learn that from the elder as well?"
Mana. The essential foundation every mage should possess, prioritized above all else in magic—it wasn't detectable in the boy. Exactly as reported.
Curiosity? Caution? Kalen responded indifferently, unperturbed.
"I've always been like this. It's also the reason the elder decided to teach me magic."
"His peculiar fascination hasn't changed."
Mages typically gauged each other's level by the volume of mana. How vast the outwardly leaking mana was. Of course, someone like Blamia could control even that.
"I heard you handle a few 1st Hierarchy spells. Is that right?"
"Yes."
"At your age, that's impressive enough. Then, what about using 1st Hierarchy magic in an unusual way?"
"I don't think it's particularly unusual, but I do handle it in a form different from others."
"Could you demonstrate briefly?"
In lieu of a reply, Kalen cast the 1st Hierarchy spell Ignition.
Everchan's eyes widened considerably at the sight of the flame stretching out like a thread.
Not bound by conventional form.
That was Everchan's conclusion after witnessing several of Kalen's spells. People naturally held fixed 'images' of concepts, shaped by their environment and the world—invariably similar and rigid. For instance, fire evoked roaring flames.
But this boy was different.
"How old are you?"
"Fifteen."
Even if he was lying about only knowing 1st Hierarchy, it made sense. Exceptional talent inevitably drew unwanted attention. Indeed, it explained why a giant like Blamia took interest: young age, unique constitution, hints of genius.
He'd thought the old man lived cozily alone with his granddaughter, but was he trying to repeat some past event?
"May I ask a question now?"
"...?"
The surprise didn't end there. From his vast experience rolling through high society, it was always the same. Young masters and ladies trembled before authority. Even his own sons weren't much different.
Yet this boy acted as if it were irrelevant, boldly saying what he wanted.
Had living with Blamia made him oblivious to such things?
"Permission granted."
"I've tried not to take interest, but I can't hold back anymore. What exactly is this job I have to do?"
Or had he lost all fear? He even showed faint discomfort before the Rakatus Duke—leaning toward the latter.
"Ha... haha..."
"The manager said to tell you. What was the deal with the elder, and why must I take on such a grave duty as guarding the Rakatus young lady?"
"Absurd."
"Pardon?"
"The second one."
"What do you mean?"
Everchan let out a deep, hearty laugh.
"Someone who speaks their mind so clearly before me."
"Have you ever felt a despair you couldn't escape, no matter what?"
Mountains of paper piled high. He picked one, skimmed it roughly, then grabbed another. Everchan repeated the pointless task as he asked.
"I live in that despair every day."
"That..."
"When striving to become family head, to reach the 4th Hierarchy, to secure my position by letting go of first love. I was rewarded in the end each time—but not this."
He'd asked for the details, yet received incomprehensible personal history. Still, Kalen waited patiently. Everchan didn't seem the type to speak without purpose.
It was then.
"Have you heard of the disease called 'mana overheating,' boy?"
"No, I haven't."
"You wouldn't have. I hadn't either, at first."
Everchan's voice grew steadily harder.
"First... shall we discuss the deal? Yes, you were curious about the agreement between me and the elder?"
"Yes. No matter how I look at it, it doesn't make sense. Backing from the elder for such a simple task."
"Fair enough. It clears up a bit after repeated jobs and hearing about the young lady's escort, but you still want to hear it."
Everchan tapped his temple lightly.
"The original request was 'save my daughter.'"
"Your daughter?"
"Yes, my daughter."
The initial plea had been to save his daughter. Then what were the monster subjugations Kalen had done?
"You seem to guess now. Naturally, tests and checks for the escort duty."
"What if I'd failed?"
"The elder couldn't fulfill my request. That disease was the cause—the vile, unknown devil that hurled my daughter into hell. Already refused once, should I not be grateful he tried again?"
Now the tangled threads unraveled for Kalen.
In short: Everchan's first request to Blamia was to cure his daughter's incurable disease. But even a Grand Archmage couldn't, so it failed.
Then Blamia received another request.
"Then why the escort..."
"Realized it couldn't be cured, so I gave up. Changed the request."
"Pardon?"
"Do you know my little girl's wish? To see the scenery of Winter Island in the north, just once. She's losing her senses now—sending her there before she dies."
"Then why must I be the escort..."
"Because of the disease's nature. Mana literally overheats, and it spreads to those around. I haven't approached my daughter in nine years because of it."
The reason no one else could escort the Rakatus young lady was clear. It affected others' mana too—approaching risked overheating and death.
"Send my daughter, who can barely walk now, north alone? Absurd. Those without mana fare a bit better—no issues with hygiene or food—but even they suffered, so the poor child hasn't left her room in nearly seven years."
"Have you tried other methods?"
"Of course. Do you think I've holed up here reading thousands of papers for nothing?"
What must it feel like, confined to a room for seven years? Kalen tried to imagine but couldn't.
Everchan's voice hardened further.
"As her father, I can't even stay by her side—how am I to watch her die? At the very least, I wanted to grant her one earnest wish."
In truth, it was extremely dangerous. Kalen was no exception; it meant risking infection from mana overheating with no guarantees. No different from sending a healthy person to their death.
Everchan rose fully and approached Kalen.
"My seat is too heavy for my knees to bend. Another apology, but please—just try once, Kalen. I hate betrayed hopes again, but hearing you wield magic without mana steeled my resolve."
"..."
"Billions in gold? I'll give them. Glory for the Dranus family? My full support."
He met Kalen's gaze and lowered his upper body—the greatest courtesy a duke's head could show a boy.
His demeanor and personality suggested a gruff man. Even explaining this, no great emotional fluctuation. But the emotion in his eyes was unmistakable.
"Stay by Eliana. See if there's any issue."
"..."
"I beg you."
Kalen silently stared into those weary eyes.
In the hushed corridor, where the gulping of saliva sounded vividly, Kalen walked with the apprentice maid he'd met before and finally spoke.
"Could you stop swallowing?"
"Ah...! Sorry...!"
He understood her situation. Knowing what had transpired, her tension stemmed from worry. Gratitude for the concern, but Kalen was tense too. The gulping was distracting.
"B-but... why did you accept...?"
"Worried I'll harm her?"
"N-no! Just curious..."
Why accept? Simple: he trusted Blamia.
As Everchan said, Blamia knew the disease's traits. Trusting the elder who sent him anyway.
"Ah... I see..."
Leaving the seemingly understanding apprentice maid behind, the two walked the long corridor.
Truly noble, she was. The maid halted, slowly turning. Tears beaded on her young face.
"...I didn't say anything."
"N-not that... I'm nervous... Is our lady... going to die...?"
The maid's tears cleared Kalen's complicated feelings.
Everchan's expression, Everchan's desperation, the maid's tears—all born of worry for one person. And Blamia and Sinat were entangled too.
"Let's think positively."
"Sniff, y-yes...?"
"If I succeed, she fulfills one wish before going. Failure changes nothing."
With that, Kalen passed the maid and headed for the firmly shut door.
Click. The latch engaged softly.