Suspicious Deal (02) - 008
"Since you say you're not the heir, I'll speak casually. How old are you?"
"Fifteen."
"Young."
The one who spoke up was a knight called Brusel.
"Duke Dranus. This might be overstepping, but at his age, it's impressive enough to handle even a couple of 1st Hierarchy spells."
During the time when the Dranus Grand Duke family had lost its power due to Blamia's seclusion, the Rakatus family had amassed unparalleled strength. As expected of someone like the captain of their knight order, he showed little sign of shrinking before Blamia.
"Even if Your Grace doesn't want to take him on, giving him such a hard time like this is problematic. You know how much the family head desires this."
"I was willing to take him despite my reluctance and at least make an effort... You've got a sharp tongue."
Brusel eyed Kalen with clear displeasure as he spoke. Kalen stood there, ignoring the gaze entirely.
"Honestly, I was thrilled to hear that Your Grace had accepted him. But what is this? Isn't it just a roundabout way of saying you have no intention of helping?"
Those words seemed genuine. Just as Kalen had suspected, there was clearly something off about the situation. However, Blamia wasn't the type for empty flattery. With his irascible personality, he wasn't about to sit quietly through it.
The atmosphere was heating up when—
"We're short on time, Brusel."
The estate manager Ebam cut Brusel off. When Kalen looked over, there was an elderly man with a face frozen in utter coldness.
"...Tch."
"My apologies, Your Grace."
"Enough. And to correct you, he knows more than just a couple of 1st Hierarchy spells."
"Thank you."
Ebam hastily wrapped things up. His mention of no time seemed truthful; even the knight captain's expression soured, and he couldn't press further.
'Are there that many magical beasts they can't handle?'
That was the only conclusion Kalen could draw from the time crunch. If they needed every available hand, it made some of his doubts fade.
Kalen approached Ebam with those thoughts in mind.
"I am Ebam, the external estate manager of the Rakatus Duke family."
"...Brusel."
Ebam offered a kind smile. In contrast, Knight Captain Brusel maintained his dissatisfied look.
The estate manager was essentially the family head's proxy. With "external" in the title, he handled outside affairs like this. Compared to the knight captain who commanded the territory's security forces, it was hard to say who outranked whom—whether due to Ebam's perfectly valid reasons or simple deference to age.
With the noble family's dynamics feeling a bit complicated, Kalen approached the boy who seemed to be Brusel's squire.
The boy looked flustered, at a loss for what to do.
"I-I'm Dus... Squire to Sir Brusel..."
"Pleased to meet you."
Once Kalen had greeted everyone, Ebam ventured casually,
"How is your granddaughter faring?"
"None of your business. Get going."
"...Understood."
For a renowned noble of the Empire, they were—what was the word?—frugal, perhaps. The carriage Kalen had imagined draped in splendor and gold was hardly different from what common folk used. He didn't bother asking why; they wouldn't answer anyway.
But the carriage wasn't the truly strange part.
"Find your own food."
If they had money to spare, shouldn't they at least book an inn? For members of the Rakatus family, this was shockingly rustic. Camping was standard, and they even had to hunt, cook, and eat their own meals. Hygiene was self-managed, and everything was DIY.
At first, Kalen thought it was because they disliked him. But since they lived the same way the entire journey to the territory, he had to rethink it. Even the estate manager, a hale old man, used his age as an excuse to foist tasks on Kalen.
Such a grueling trip wasn't easy for anyone—let alone a fifteen-year-old boy.
But there was a fact overshadowed by Blamia's halo: Kalen had survived the gutters. Camping, foraging, hygiene—none of it fazed him. He'd endured harsher conditions at a younger age. This was nothing to tire him out.
They couldn't help but be inwardly surprised by his familiarity with it all. A boy not even past his coming-of-age rite was keeping up without complaint—who wouldn't be?
But the real shock was yet to come.
This was the period when Kalen trailed his master everywhere, gaining all sorts of experience—including magical beast hunts. Mostly commissions from lesser nobles lacking mages or strong territorial forces. They always gave Kalen worried looks. Blamia's towering reputation eased some concerns, but a delicate-looking boy—could he handle it?
Yet everyone who witnessed Kalen's battlefield changed their minds. Ebam and Brusel were no exceptions.
Sizzle— One, two, three. Wherever Kalen's fingers pointed, magical beasts crumpled.
It hadn't been long since the carriage reached the territory. Brusel drew his sword upon spotting low-grade beasts—but it never swung.
A thin pillar of flame stretched like thread. Flowing more like liquid than fire, it danced across the beasts' heads before piercing them. Their brains burned away, dropping them dead on the spot. Like threading a needle, Kalen's magic was exquisite.
But was it some grand spell? No. Brusel, who had faced family mages and seen their arts, knew it was the basic 1st Hierarchy spell "Ignition."
Simply put, no one used Ignition like that. Fire was for engulfing things whole or shooting forward at best. That was why 1st Hierarchy magic was called foundational.
"..."
It also explained why magic had lost practicality against beasts. Higher hierarchies grew stronger but were exponentially harder. Hiring mages for beast hunts was costly. Raising knights was far cheaper and faster—no long apprenticeships needed.
Knights excelled against beasts; low-hierarchy mages offered little in kills.
Kalen defied that. Burning threads massacred low-grade beasts—giants, orcs, whatever. For close-range club-wielders, he spread Ignition wide like a shield. For those that broke through, he snatched dropped clubs and shattered legs.
All Brusel could do was clean up stragglers or catch fleeing ones.
-Groooar...
-Graaah!!
Beasts fleeing in fear? From a boy barely a snack-sized? The kid showed no terror. Had he faced death before? Absurd at his age.
Charging giants many times his size took courage bordering on madness. His stoic, impassive face only widened the gap.
"Is that all?"
The boy sheathed his magic and approached Brusel, who stood dazed with sword in hand. After slaughtering so many, his expression hadn't twitched. A bit of blood on his cheek was all—utterly composed.
Blamia taught him magic, so he'd be above average, sure. But this? Ebam, watching from afar, and Brusel, up close in the carnage, shared the same thought.
"I-Impressive, Kalen... Are you a Grand Archmage too?"
"Grand Archmage? M-Master would roll on the floor laughing."
"Then that spell..."
"...Just magic."
Inside the carriage back to Felts. No camping this return trip. Instead, they mocked Kalen by staying at a decent inn for comfortable meals and beds. Brusel was still quiet, but for a different reason—his expression subtly complex.
In the end, only his squire Dus, unable to contain curiosity, became Kalen's sole conversation partner.
Kalen gave curt replies to Dus and closed his eyes. More than that, he worried what Sinat might be up to.
He'd heeded Blamia's advice: 'Don't show your talent.' Not even 2nd Hierarchy—just 1st Hierarchy "Ignition." But it ended too easily, leaving him uneasy.
"Can you use other spells too?"
"I can, but—"
Mid-reply to Dus, Kalen sensed something off and opened his left eye. The curious squire was gone; Ebam gazed at him with a benign face.
Kalen closed his eye again and answered.
"Yeah, a few more. Three or four."
"On the way here, and hunting beasts—you're a talented boy."
"Not that talented."
"Heh heh..."
Ebam peppered him with questions, but Kalen stuck to short answers. He didn't want to get involved. From home talks, Blamia viewed them poorly. Their "request" reeked of suspicion; no desire to dig deeper.
"I'm no expert on magic, but you use it unusually. I've seen that flame plenty, but never drawn so thin like thread."
But this Ebam clung stubbornly, dissecting Kalen bit by bit. Unpleasant, yet they were backing Blamia and Sinat. Kalen swallowed his irritation.
"No mana, so I experimented. Can't afford mana exhaustion if they let their guard down."
Blamia said hide talent. His mastery of 1st Hierarchy was genius, but faking trial-and-error hid it better. Rakatus had high-hierarchy mages; they'd scorn a mana-less one.
"No mana?"
"Yeah. Never had any. How I cast without it? No clue. Master's good teaching, I guess."
"..."
"Tired. Can I sleep?"
Kalen ended it. Silence fell in the carriage after Ebam nodded.
But Ebam, watching Kalen, merely exchanged a quiet glance with Brusel.