Chapter 84
Chapter 84
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 84
Chapter Title: When Superiors Quarrel
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As the saying goes, when those above quarrel,
it's their subordinates who serve them that end up exhausted.
That timeless truth applied perfectly to the group now en route to the Philador Kingdom.
"……."
Clip-clop.
"……."
Clip-clop.
Miron had been stifling since yesterday, thanks to Jerome and Aria, who hadn't exchanged a single word.
And it wasn't just him—the maids and female mages accompanying Aria as her attendants felt the same suffocating tension.
That morning, when Jerome kicked over Aria's luggage,
Aria's dazed eyes captured the scene from afar.
Crash!
Her retinas registered the bundle slamming into the ground.
Her ears rang with the refreshing sound of its contents shattering spectacularly.
Both sight and sound delivered the same verdict.
All the magic reagents she'd prepared had been thoroughly smashed.
Since confirming that sight, Aria hadn't uttered a word.
One might expect even Jerome to say something to the stunning beauty in her sulky pout,
but would his lordship ever be the type?
He was probably thrilled instead, arms wide open at the chance to travel in peace.
'Hah, but we've still got three more days to Berti.'
No matter how long-standing an alliance might be, no one installed ducal teleportation circles in foreign lands.
It risked accidents in the heart of an enemy kingdom, and a slight misalignment in coordinates could warp them into a catastrophe.
Thus, even the esteemed lady of the renowned Wendinel Ducal House, famed for her magic,
had no choice but to travel by the overland route she despised most in this international affair.
And her attendants—had they handpicked them for this very trait?
Not one breathed a word of complaint amid the awkwardness.
'What do I do? Just keep going like this?'
Miron knew little of magic, but even he understood the astronomical cost of those reagents.
For a moment, he debated breaking the ice himself, but then steeled his resolve.
'No. The Young Master will handle it in his own way.'
He was merely Jerome von Carviot's retainer.
If Jerome said nothing, there must be a reason. Miron decided to stick to his core duty: escorting his lord safely.
'Hmmm, what now.'
Contrary to Miron's steadfast faith(?), I was in a bit of a bind.
Kicking and smashing Aria's reagents had been fine.
Leave them half-intact, and she'd whine to lug the troublesome junk along.
But the problem was,
Aria von Wendinel was pouting.
'Who knew the Crimson Flame Mage had such a childish side.'
Obvious for a kid, perhaps, but still.
Traitor of the fallen kingdom.
Mad dog of the Holy Empire.
Wayward flame...
The slew of insults hurled at Aria in my past life.
Yet the Crimson Flame Mage never flinched at the masses' scorn.
She burned every Holy Empire sympathizer to ash, as if owning every accusation.
For a woman with such an iron heart to sulk over a few broken trinkets?
It hit me anew: even Aria had a childhood.
'No, this is probably closer to her true self.'
The "mad dog" persona couldn't have been her original, after all.
When great wars erupt and kingdoms crumble continent-wide, shadows darken every face—that's inevitable.
To avert that tragedy, I needed to show this pouting magic monster a vulnerability to non-magic threats.
But the picture was getting messy.
To follow Duke Wendinel's plan, I had to talk to Aria first and relay Ibarella's kidnappers' precautions.
With her silent since yesterday,
'By Berti, shaking Empire pursuers gets tougher.'
Might seem trivial, but this was about swaying the key figure who topples great magic armor.
Forced compliance from the duke's orders paled against her own conviction—the efficiency gap was night and day.
'Leaves just one ideal scenario.'
A magic-immune monster ambushes Aria. As she feels threatened, I swoop in to save her.
Naturally dissolves her grudge, and a brush with death ensures she won't slack on research.
'Ah, if only some baddie would drop in.'
I didn't know what pursuer the Holy Empire sent, but sooner the better.
Pfft.
'...Yeah, right.'
Endless scheming birthed wild thoughts.
Even if Ibarella was unhinged, we were barely a day from Wendinel territory.
Berti was still three days off.
No way they'd ambush a holy knight order here. ◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "Ugh... ah... guh..."
Wriggle, wriggle, wriggle...
The knight in pristine white armor had served the continent's most glorified figure until yesterday.
Now,
he resembled a death knight from legend—a mummified corpse in plate.
After a few final twitches,
the knight stilled.
"Told you—why drool over someone else's plated meal."
Last night,
at the edge of Schudart territory, where delicacies awaited the man,
the stench of god-worshippers began to waft.
"Tch! Filthy pests... daring to eye my prize?"
The man was already in a foul mood.
He'd reached Schudart, but the immobile delicacies frustrated him.
Infiltrating the heart was an option, but a poor one.
Schudart's core was a fortress bristling with magitech.
And though not top-11 continentals, Darius von Wendinel was no pushover.
No matter the man's Blood Sect mastery, success wasn't guaranteed.
Truth be told, the mission hardly mattered.
He just feared missing his feast.
Since they'd head to Philador anyway,
why not lurk at the trade road's end and wait, jaws agape?
Thus, for two days, he'd lain in wait along Schudart's roads.
Then the zealots' reek spoiled it—how infuriating.
"Tch, spoiling my appetite before the feast... Hm?"
Sniff, sniff.
Irritation forgotten, the man's lips split in a grin at the airborne scent.
"Finally... on the move."
Splat!
He flung the stilled knight like trash and withdrew his hand.
"Heh heh heh, wait up. Coming for you soon."
As he pinpointed the delicacies' location and rose to follow,
he froze.
"What...?"
A flicker of doubt in his eyes.
The target had arrived, but not in the expected numbers.
"Tastier treats... a few extra?" ◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "I'll go on separately."
At the inn for lunch, Aria—who'd been silent for two days—picked up her spoon and spoke flatly, her first words.
'What's that mean?'
'Beats me...'
I traded glances with Miron before replying to her.
"No, you won't."
"If it's Father's orders keeping you here, no need. I'll handle the family side."
Aria spoke coldly, resolute.
Good lord, was this her real personality, or just immature?
"Lady Aria, think we're thrilled to tag along? Any incident with you could spark an international crisis. To prepare for potential dangers..."
"You need knights like yourselves, right?"
Aria sneered at Miron and me, scoffing derisively.
"Unnecessary worry. The Carviot County has great magic combat manuals, no? We do too. Our archives overflow with protocols for close-quarters surprises."
Of course we did. Wendinel Ducal undoubtedly too.
'But that's why your father begged us—those have limits!' nearly escaped my throat.
"Besides, I want nothing to do with those who disrespect magic."
"......"
Still hung up on the reagents, huh.
Did she realize she started by belittling knights?
"I've said enough—you understand. Let's part after this meal."
Scrape!
Aria wiped her mouth with a napkin, settled the bill, and strode out.
"Young Master, what now? Should we grab her...?"
"Sigh. Immature, or is magic arrogance bone-deep?"
She diverged wildly from the Aria I'd imagined—or met in my past life. Hard to judge.
Scrape!
"...No choice. Follow at a distance for now. Mission's a mission."
Cross Fran's southern border—the Five Nations Alliance's fringe—and Philador lay ahead.
Odd no Holy Empire response yet, but
whatever Ibarella plotted, surely not here.
As I moved to tail Aria,
Swish!
"You'll pay, sir."
The innkeeper blocked us.
"Didn't you just?"
"Just yours."
I was speechless at her words.
"...Hah, petty much."
I sent Miron ahead, gritted my teeth, paid, and rushed out after Aria.
Bzzzzz—
Right outside, potent mana surged.
"!"
At its center: Aria von Wendinel and her entourage.
"Damn it!! Miron, grab her!"
Aria hadn't stiffed us out of pettiness.
She'd bought time to activate that magic circle.
Instinct screamed:
Let that makeshift circle fire, and we'd lose her group.
As Miron lunged and seized Aria's shoulder,
Flash!
Miron and Aria vanished.
"Shit!"
I bolted from the inn toward the Fran-Philador trade post without pause.
Unknown destination, but a ducal heir wouldn't risk illegal entry.
One option left:
'Beat them to the border checkpoint.'
Thankfully, Miron wielded a Heterogenous Power: Frenzy.
I'd taught him Telepathy for emergencies.
I sprinted borderward, firing Telepathies wildly. 🔮 TELEPATHY 🔮 —To Miron— Miron, you okay? Reply if fine!! ◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Blinded instinctively by the magic circle's mystical glow, Miron cautiously opened his eyes as it faded.
"......!!"
Unfamiliar surroundings met his gaze.
"...Urp!"
Before assessing, vertigo hit hard, bile rising.
"Pfft!"
"Can't even handle a circle properly, yet you followed? Why?"
Aria's attendants mocked Miron retching from the crude circle.
"Tch, should've left him—why'd he come?"
A displeased voice reached his ears amid dry heaves.
"Not our house's spatial circle—my makeshift one's rough for outsiders."
Despite dizziness, Miron staggered to block Aria's group.
"...Don't bother. Come with Young Master Jerome later. Follow this road—Philador border ahead."
"No... way."
Aria's eyes flashed sharply.
"Twice now? I said I don't want you along."
"My lord... is Young Master Jerome. No duty to obey you, milady."
Miron stalled for another reason too. 🔮 TELEPATHY 🔮 'Not far—crude circle means short range.' —To Jerome— I hear you, Young Master. Fran's southern border end now. —From Jerome— Good—be there soon, hold on! —To Jerome— Understood. While they conversed silently, Aria opted for force.
"...If you insist, I'll make you listen."
She raised a hand; her mage attendants encircled Miron.
"Stubborn for someone who can't stand."
"Hurry—want my bath."
"Sleep it off—you'll wake done~ silly knight."
As the mages chanted spells at Miron,
Splash!
One attendant's head soared into the air.