Afterparty 2
Rumors had spread far and wide: the boy who won Cherbito and single-handedly slew an Executioner had entered the top floor of the Sage's Tower. No one in this gathering was unaware of it. Count Frederickson had personally confirmed it before the eyes of countless spectators.
Those in the know even understood that a majority of the elders—including Elder Chairman Jerwin—had voted in favor at the assembly.
Yet the top floor of the Sage's Tower wasn't a place one could simply enter with permission. There was good reason why only 6th Circle elders and above were allowed access.
When the rumor first circulated, skeptics undoubtedly shot it disbelieving glances. Sure, the boy had reached the 5th Circle at seventeen and killed a former Executioner, but martial prowess and enlightenment were realms apart.
Licht's absence from public appearances since entering the top floor only fueled the doubt. Those who'd never looked kindly on him sneered that he'd become a cripple, ravaged by aftereffects.
But then.
"Hah..."
Someone's sigh slipped out. Yet in that moment, no one else's ears caught it.
Clacking footsteps echoed as a boy stepped forward. Black hair and eyes. A uniform tailored perfectly to him. He walked beside Serel Il—the count's well-known heir—without the slightest awkwardness. If anything, more eyes drifted to the boy than the count.
His gaze swept the room languidly, arrogantly looking down on all, and it suited him perfectly.
As Schult trailed behind with a sly grin, the count ascended the dais at the front of the banquet hall. Eyes converged, and he slowly opened his mouth.
"Thank you all for gathering amid your busy schedules."
A smattering of applause rippled through.
The count paused briefly before continuing. "This isn't a grand affair, but since you've come, I hope you'll relax and enjoy yourselves tonight."
Courteous murmurs followed. Guests here and there raised their glasses, listening attentively as the count spoke of Cherbito's history and the reason for the banquet. True to his disdain for empty formalities, he kept it brief.
And after some time had passed.
"Licht Sientia."
The black-haired boy stepped forward. Countless gazes stabbed at him. But Licht remained impassive. His deeply sunken eyes weren't frail enough to waver under external pressure.
As some let out admiring gasps, the count said, "I mentioned this once before, but I must make it clear here. As this year's champion, you've made Cherbito shine brighter than ever. Thank you."
"You're too kind."
"Moreover, your role in that unfortunate incident was immense. Your courageous actions saved countless lives, so as El Sion's lord, I can't thank you enough."
Licht bowed deeply. Louder applause erupted than when the count had first appeared.
"Even if it's a modest request, if you desire it, El Sion will aid you with all our might. Don't hesitate to come anytime—the gates are always open."
And then came words like a bombshell.
"......!"
The nobles and elders from foreign lands watching the boy trembled faintly. The count hadn't claimed Licht. Everyone's expectation—that he'd offer access to the Sage's Tower's top floor and embrace him—had been upended.
But the count showed no concern. A few more formal exchanges wrapped it up, and he descended the dais. Brushing past the boy, he whispered just loud enough for Licht alone.
"See you later."
That was all. Having said his piece, the count began receiving greetings from nobles and elders who'd sought him out, accompanied by his heir Serel and a single mage guard.
"Young Lord Licht, if it's not too rude, might we speak briefly?"
Unknown nobles approached as if on cue, swarming naturally.
"Renat Valdinio of Valdinio County under the great King Laurio of Trill Kingdom."
"Nicholas Nazari, legitimate heir of the Nazari Marquisate..."
"Rudolf Berkiora here. I'd love to forge a connection with Young Lord Licht..."
Their words flowed like a torrent. Every one wore outfits so ostentatious they bordered on excess. Yet most could wield mana—their haughty airs and gaudy attire weren't mere bluster.
"Young Lord Licht, I've heard the tales, but you far exceed my imagination."
Some spoke as if they knew his true nature. No, most of the encircling nobles did. If they dug, they'd uncover it easily. And they had the power to do so.
What nonsense, Licht thought, his face caught between blank and annoyed as he gave half-hearted replies. Their pitches were all the same. Join our house. We'll grant any wish. Isn't wandering alone without a family exhausting? The count's final declaration had intensified it—they'd half-given up, only for this unexpected opening.
"...So, on this occasion, I'd like to invite you to our territory. Ah, no pressure, of course. Just, since fate has brought us together, perhaps a deeper conversation...?"
Licht ignored the surrounding nobles and headed to a corner of the banquet hall. Grumbles trailed him, but he paid them no mind.
"Whoa, you actually came."
"We wondered when you'd show. Sit here."
The girl in the blue robe stared at Licht in wonder, while Aila casually offered the seat beside her. No sooner had he sat than Vito across the table asked, "What'd they say?"
"Useless drivel."
"Can you say that?" Vito shot a glance at the nobles who weren't hiding their discomfort.
"More importantly, why haven't you been to the library lately?"
"Busy."
"Wow... exactly as I imagined. Says whatever he wants."
The blue-robed girl muttered. Elia beside her retorted, "What'd you imagine?"
"Hmph. All talk. A true noble weighs his words..."
The chatter circled back. The young mages bombarded him with endless curiosity, and Licht answered curtly. After some time.
"Young Lord Licht, the count summons you."
A servant had approached unnoticed, whispering softly. Licht, who'd been killing time waiting, rose without hesitation.
"Already?"
"You've been here long enough."
"What a personality. See you tomorrow?"
Vito asked with innocent eyes. Licht paused, then gave a vague reply.
"We'll see."
This is probably the last time. He'd endured the dull talk for a glimpse of their faces. But he didn't say it outright.
Licht followed the servant to the terrace.
***
"I've brought him."
"Good work. You're dismissed."
A small table and a few chairs sat outside the terrace. As before, the 6th Circle mage from earlier stood behind the count's seat.
"Sit. I've ensured no one else will intrude."
It was a spot for cooling one's head with the breeze, but the count had cleared it in advance. Licht sat opposite as bidden.
"Great view, isn't it? I come here to clear my mind sometimes. El Sion's nightscape at a glance."
El Sion's lord castle had low walls—born of confidence. From this central perch, they couldn't fathom any incident occurring. The towering Sage's Tower loomed nearby, streets below aglow. Licht could even spot the Central Library, where he owed so much, with the naked eye.
"El Sion's heart never goes dark. Maybe that's why we grew complacent. Who'd imagine intruders during Cherbito—let alone from the Holy Kingdom, former Executioners."
The count slid a few sheets of paper across the table to Licht. They brimmed with investigative findings.
"All mercenaries?"
"No, a few house vassals. You might not know, but money alone doesn't cut it. Dead men yield nothing."
El Sion's mercenaries had naturally clammed up. Tangling with the Holy Kingdom meant risking death anytime. The count had poured in funds, but progress lagged inevitably.
Licht asked, "If so, aren't the slum rats the same? How much did you splash to get El Sion mages involved in kidnappings?"
"Someone led it. Name's Simon. A godfather figure in El Sion's slums. Known to have reached high among Expert knights."
Licht flipped the paper. A portrait sketch accompanied scattered info—all vague, little solid.
As he tilted his head, the count said knowingly, "As you see, scant details. Just that he's a noble-born knight, one-armed, yet wields a sword masterfully. Even 'Simon' is likely an alias— that's what they call him in the slums."
Licht set the papers down. He'd seen what mattered; the rest was unreliable.
"If this Simon's the ringleader, he has Holy Kingdom ties."
"That's the issue. His info guild's large but rootless—no fixed base, shifts with codes. Few have even seen his face."
Slums teemed with brokers and fixers who killed for coin. El Sion's were notably vast.
"Can't find him if you try."
"Can't just raze the lower districts either, right?"
The count smiled wryly; the man behind nodded faintly. Even if razed, without constant oversight, slums regrew. El Sion saw endless traffic—no count could manage them all. They'd turned a blind eye if lines weren't crossed. But now was different. Lacking hard proof stalled action, but stagnation would force the count's hand.
"That's all the info I can give."
"What of the delegation?"
"No word. Testing my patience. Might really flatten the lower districts at this rate."
His mutter felt no joke. Licht gathered his thoughts, staring at the table, then spoke.
"I'll do it. Force it out—we've no choice."
Licht belonged nowhere. The count had declared as much at the banquet's start.
"In earnest?"
"That was the deal."
With the delegation sent and no official Holy Kingdom response, one path remained: trace the involved upward. To the Pope.
No one fit better than an unaffiliated lone wolf with slum-toppling might.
The count asked, "When do you start?"
Licht met his eyes. "Now."
"Tonight, I'll end it all."