Rat Bastard (2)
No. It was nonsense.
There might be people who looked alike, but nowhere in the world was there someone identical from head to toe.
That was true now, too.
A similar frame could not mean the contents were the same.
Because what stood before him was not an object, but a person.
Even so, he had to admit he was startled.
He might have managed to procure the clothes somehow, but he had never expected there to be another weapon as precise as that partisan.
Marys, climbing out of the pit, handed something over.
One was the pouch he had pulled out a moment ago.
The other was something painfully familiar.
A silver plate, holding a glimmer of light.
It was the mercenary plate that proved a mercenary’s identity.
So that was it.
He more or less understood what had happened.
The mercenary plate, recognized anywhere on the continent, was an object that verified a mercenary’s identity in the name of the Mercenary Guild.
The mercenaries who used it knew better than anyone how convenient it was.
The problem came when someone with malicious intent decided to exploit that convenience.
And the result of that was right here before his eyes.
Not a word was spoken.
The two of them conversed only with their eyes.
The pair of Marys who received the items each walked off in opposite directions.
Lawrence glanced at Emily.
The one he had to prioritize was the Marys who had received the mana stone.
Water Ball.
The sphere of water hovering in the air shot forth with a whistle.
"-!?"
A surprise attack was a surprise attack.
The man struck in the face did not even have time to react.
With a dull thud, Marys was knocked sprawling.
The other Marys assessed the situation quickly.
He did not rush to help his fallen comrade.
The one who drew the partisan was already guarding the surroundings.
Emily surged forward.
Whenever she had drawn it, she was already gripping her sword.
One-point thrust.
The partisan lunged toward Emily.
She slipped away from that windlike stab as if dancing.
Closing the distance took only an instant.
In the blink of an eye, wind holes opened in the bastard’s foot and thigh.
"Ghk!"
Marys’s body swayed.
Even while bleeding, he did not let go of the partisan.
That judgment was not wrong.
Emily’s momentum was not over yet.
The partisan swept around him.
It was an attack meant to secure the spear’s reach.
Emily placed a hand on the ground.
The moment she crouched, the spearhead passed over her head.
It was a clever move that took advantage of her small frame.
Marys hurriedly pulled the partisan back.
Too late.
Too fast.
The woman closed the distance in a heartbeat and thrust.
Emily’s blade pierced his throat with perfect accuracy.
"......"
The partisan clattered to the ground.
Marys clutched the wound where the sword had torn through his neck with both hands.
It was meaningless.
The blood that had not been stopped in time spilled through his fingers.
It was a flawless strike.
No scream rose.
The staggering Marys soon toppled back into the pit.
He would never climb out again.
The matter was over in an instant.
The two of them checked on the other Marys who had been hit by Water Ball.
First, they secured the pouch.
A blue stone that held brilliant light.
Lawrence recognized at a glance that the jewel, dense with mana, was a mana stone.
"This pouch is an artifact as well. It blocks mana detection from the outside."
"So it wasn’t luck that he slipped past the artifact detection."
"The organization planned for this from the start."
Lawrence removed Marys’s mask.
The face beneath it was utterly ordinary.
A face that could have belonged to anyone, anywhere.
Features he remembered.
It was that man.
The very same Marys who had escorted Lawrence and the merchant caravan.
"He’s still alive."
A faint breath could be heard.
The face struck by the Water Ball was bruised blue, but his life did not seem to be in danger.
"I’ll hand this one over to the Magic Tower. Depending on the situation, we may be able to get information out of him. For now—"
The voice did not get to finish.
Emily yanked Lawrence backward and drew her sword.
Clang!
The point of a spear and the sword locked together.
The cut hem of a robe fluttered away on the wind.
Half a beat later, a hot line of pain spread across his chest.
That had been dangerous.
If not for Emily, a spear hole would have opened in his chest.
Marys had swung the partisan.
Whether his senses had finally returned or not, the bastard was already getting awkwardly to his feet.
"Behind me."
"No. I’m fine now."
Fortunately, only the skin had been cut; the wound was not deep.
Emily had reacted fast enough.
Lawrence’s eyes darkened with anger.
He had not expected to draw blood from one moment’s carelessness.
"Mortis."
A meaningless word.
Marys spoke a word that had been lodged in Lawrence’s memory.
Then, all at once, the man drove the partisan into his own belly.
"-!?"
What the hell was he doing!?
Lawrence was stunned by the sudden, outrageous act.
Emily, on the other hand, rushed forward.
She was not aiming for Marys.
With her sword drawn, she went for the partisan.
A sickening smile spread across Marys’s face.
He pressed down on the ornament of the partisan.
Shrrk!
A red flower bloomed.
The spearhead of the partisan opened like a blossom, and a blade shot upward.
The belly tore open.
Fragments of flesh flew.
Blood droplets, robbed of anywhere to go, fell to the ground.
Skewered on the partisan, Marys sagged like a sinner.
It was unquestionably an instant death.
"What in the world…"
Lawrence was at a loss for words.
After checking Marys’s breathing, Emily shook her head.
"He killed himself in case things went wrong."
It was a horrifying sight.
Covering her mouth with the back of her hand, she had gone pale.
The dead tell no tales.
Once his identity had been exposed, escape was impossible.
It meant he had chosen suicide to keep the information from being passed on.
He understood that.
Lawrence could grasp it in his head.
But when the moment actually came, how many people could cut short their own lives without hesitation?
"This isn’t the first time. Their methods of dying differ, but the people in that organization all ended their lives this way."
"......"
They were not people who lived by ordinary common sense.
Lawrence had nothing to say.
A little while later, the mages from the Magic Tower arrived at the scene.
When they faced Marys’s corpse, their faces turned pale.
The forest, filled with the faint reek of blood, offered nothing but silence.
* * *
A week had passed since the mana stone had been recovered.
The Magic Tower lifted its control over the workshop district, starting from the outskirts.
For several days, there had been no end of grumbling that they would formally protest the incident.
But time dulled everything.
Now it had become just another story the shop-mage vendors tossed around for a laugh—something that had happened, once.
Lawrence watched the statue being erected.
It was nothing like the mage statue he had seen in Rombamel.
The statue of the great mage Leano, looking down over the workshop district.
A massive staff. An intricately carved robe.
The statue’s eyes shone more beautifully than anything else about it.
They were heterochromatic—different colors in each eye.
In the left eye sat the red mana stone prepared by the Magic Tower.
In the right eye, the blue mana stone that had been stolen.
Leano, the first Tower Master of Sharnos Magic Tower, had apparently been a great mage specialized in fire and wind attributes.
Ordinary mages usually had an affinity for only one attribute.
Leano, who could command two attributes at will, had reportedly been the sort of absurd talent that was rare even in his own era.
"Dean Androp will now make his entrance. Distinguished guests, please rise."
It was Hasole presiding from the stage.
Dean Androp appeared from within.
The aged dean made his way to the stage with Elbrick’s support.
Watching that, Lawrence turned away.
There was no need to keep standing around for the Magic Tower’s ceremony.
There was still plenty of time before the appointed hour.
He wanted to take one last look around the workshop district, where he had been staying these past few months.
Today, as always, the workshop district was full of noise and commotion.
Mana trembled uneasily in the air.
The workshops, busy with magical research, never seemed to fall silent.
Screams and shouts were nothing unusual, and for some reason, the sound of people laughing madly sometimes rained down as well.
"It worked! It finally worked! Hahaha!"
"What? You succeeded? Don’t talk nonsense, Number 77!"
"Whether it’s nonsense or not, you’ll see soon enough."
"Don’t make me laugh! Do you really think I’m going to sit here and watch you enter the Magic Tower before me?"
Where there was a mage who succeeded, there was always one who failed.
"I thought it was going to work this time…"
"If it were that easy, wouldn’t everyone already be in the Magic Tower? Everyone falls flat on their face at least once. Pull yourself together and try again."
The shop-mages drowned their disappointment in alcohol.
Thinking that this too would be the last time he saw it, Lawrence felt a strange sense of regret.
After touring the workshop district, Lawrence arrived at Workshop Number 13.
It was the workshop he had relied on during his stay at the Magic Tower.
He did not feel any particular attachment to it, yet for some reason, as the time to leave approached, his chest felt a little hollow.
A place to come home to, huh…
Maybe someday. But not yet.
He looked at the sign for a moment, then headed to Workshop Number 14.
"Unlock."
There was no need to knock.
The key in his mind clicked into place, and Workshop Number 14 opened.
"Good day, sir."
"No. Didn’t I tell you the last time? If you have business, knock first. Why do you insist on picking other people’s doors?"
"I’m sorry. I’ve been rather busy."
There was no point in not knocking.
Unless an appointment had been made, Number 14, absorbed in research, often missed the sound of it.
"Watching you makes me think it’d be foolish to get angry."
He let out a snort of exasperated laughter.
"I came today to say goodbye."
"Ah. So today’s the day, then. Workshop Number 13 will be quiet now too."
Where there is a meeting, there is also a parting.
Lawrence bowed his head, carrying his gratitude with him.
"I owe you a great deal. I hope we can meet again somewhere down the road."
"Oh, come now. Think of my age. What road would there be for me? It’s enough if you remember that there was an old mage like me somewhere out there."
"You never know what life will bring. And we’re mages, after all. So long as we seek the laws of the world, the road toward magic will cross again."
"Ho ho… Who did you hear that from?"
"From a teacher I deeply respect."
Lawrence remembered Acheron’s teachings.
"I wonder if I’ll still be alive by then."
"If you cut back on the cigarettes, you’ll easily gain another ten years."
"What meaning is there in a life without cigarettes? I’ll die when I die. I won’t give up the one pleasure in my life."
Number 14 brought out a thick book from inside the workshop.
"This is a parting gift from me. Read it now and then when you’re bored. It may not help your magic, but it should be good for clearing your head."
"Thank you. I’ll make sure to read the whole thing before we meet again. That way I can return it to you."
He slipped the book into his bag and shook Number 14’s hand.
"My name is Lawrence, sir."
"And mine is Winan. I pray that you may one day see the end of the path of magic."
After finishing his farewell, Lawrence left the workshop district behind.
* * *
The outskirts of the Magic Tower.
There, too, were scenes of commotion, though of a different kind than in the workshop district.
Beasts and people caged behind iron bars. A slaver who treated living beings like merchandise was selling slaves to mages.
"You’ve got a good eye. This goblin brat came in just yesterday. They’re wild enough that even mages staying at the Tower specially order them. What do you say? Why not pick up a new one while you’ve got the chance?"
"It’s certainly a fine piece of merchandise. But don’t you think the price is far too high? At this rate, I could get five goblin brats."
"Oh, dear. I’d love nothing more than to give a regular like you a discount, but… as you mages know, goods have their market price, don’t they? If the Magic Tower were to find out I’d sold it below market value, I wouldn’t be able to set foot here ever again. I hope you’ll understand."
"Hmm…"
"What power could a mere merchant like me possibly have? The reason I’m even telling you this is because it’s you and me here, mage to merchant. I wouldn’t say this to another mage."
"Can’t be helped. I’ll yield this time."
"As expected of a mage!"
The slaver’s manner toward mages was practiced and seamless.
He was a veteran merchant through and through.
With years of experience, they knew exactly how to strip a mage down to the bone.
In the end, mages were still just people.
Strip away one layer, and they were only customers like anyone else.
Passing the last slaver, Lawrence spotted her.
Emily, the black-haired maid.
When she noticed Lawrence, she bowed her head slightly.
"Lord Lawrence."
"I’m sorry. It seems I’m a little late."
There was still time before the appointment.
He had not expected her to arrive so early.
"Not at all. I’m the one who came early. I couldn’t keep Lord Lawrence waiting."
With both hands neatly folded, she bent at the waist in a deep bow.
"Emilie Primrose, retainer of the Raynald family, offers her gratitude to Lord Lawrence. The Raynald family will never forget what you did this time. A formal expression of our thanks will be made later in Raynald Territory."
"......"
At once, the eyes gathered nearby turned toward them.
"A formal expression of thanks? Please, raise your head. This was a transaction in which our interests aligned."
One thing for one thing.
He had not done it expecting any other reward.
"Wealth and power must naturally be accompanied by the responsibilities and obligations that belong to them. Resentment for resentment. Gratitude for gratitude. The Raynald family returns one thing with ten in turn."
"The transaction is already over. You do understand that, don’t you?"
"Please, consider it. Until you say that you will accept our thanks, I have no authority to raise my head."
Her tone was firm. She did not straighten her back.
Her stubbornness made Lawrence cover his face with a hand.
Was this sort of thing normal in noble society?
His acquaintance with Emily was not particularly deep, not by any stretch.
But ever since she had mentioned authority, he had never once seen her yield.
And this was not a private place.
Looking at the way she kept her head down, Lawrence said,
"...All right. I’ll accept the thanks you’ve offered, so please raise your head. There are too many eyes here."
Only then did Emily straighten up.
"I thought you would say that."
"If you’re going to be that unreasonable, what am I supposed to say?"
Her lips curved faintly.
"This is a small token of my own thanks."
Emily handed him a small bag.
Inside were a money pouch glittering with gold coins and, to his surprise, three magic books.
"Magic books? I can’t take Magic Tower books out of here."
"They’re not Magic Tower books. You happened to discover books the Magic Tower had discarded. Still, a magic book is a magic book. Please burn them once you’ve finished reading them, so there won’t be any trouble later."
It was a ridiculous sleight of hand.
In other words, the Magic Tower intended to pretend it knew nothing about these books.
There was no reason to refuse.
He was in no position to be picky about a single magic book, let alone three.
Lawrence checked the titles first.
In order, they were Worm, Cold, and Engrave magic.
The first two were spells meant to deal with cold and heat.
They seemed like magic books that could be used without much issue, even if they came from the Magic Tower.
He was not sure what sort of magic Engrave was.
He was dying to take a look right away, but he could not commit such a discourtesy with a person standing right in front of him.
"The Magic Tower has stated that, in regard to Lord Lawrence’s affiliation, this incident will be treated as an exception. Dean Androp himself has guaranteed that, so you needn’t worry about what comes after."
"This is an unexpected gift."
Considering the relationship between the Magic Tower and the Holy Cross Order, it was highly unusual.
Rather than Emily’s skill, perhaps it was the power of the Raynald family standing behind her that was truly formidable.
"And I also have information I’d like to tell you personally."
Lawrence closed the magic books, and she spoke again.
"This came from a trustworthy person in the north. It’s said that in the northern part of Winterglen, there is a palace built by the northern people long ago. Some say it existed even before Saint Wall was raised, and that the kingdom hid part of it away as a prize of victory."
"A palace built by the northern people?"
"Yes. There are rumors that the place is similar to the holy land spoken of by the Holy Cross Order."
Lawrence’s gaze changed.
"That’s priceless information to me."
By some unexpected turn, he had obtained a lead on the holy land.
Winterglen. He had already been thinking that, once he returned to Mistra, he might make a trip north.
If there was a holy land there, there was no reason not to go and look for it.
Emily led over the horse she had tied to a tree.
"I look forward to the day we meet again in Raynald Territory."
Lawrence’s eyes moved busily as he took the reins.
He had never ridden alone before, though he had once ridden with company.
Could he really handle a horse well without any practice?
Worrying about it would be a luxury.
He would find out soon enough by trying.
Putting his foot in the stirrup, Lawrence climbed onto the horse.
"Thank you so much for taking care of so many things."
"That is what I should be saying to Lord Lawrence."
"I’ll see you next time in Raynald Territory."
"May your journey be peaceful."
Emily did not raise her head until Lawrence had vanished from sight.