The Future of Ahental Burns
Before the Dark Field faded, they burned Laud's body. Ramang burst into tears as he set the fire.
He had held Laud's talent in the highest regard, and this outcome left him looking hollowed out. Worse, it had laid bare how thoroughly House Ahental was rotting from within — factional infighting, a culture of lining up behind patrons. An organization that crushed talent of such promise had no future worth speaking of.
"What am I supposed to tell the Young Master? And Mary, who'll be waiting endlessly for Laud? Lady Gaia, you are far too cruel to me..."
Listening to that lament, Messi felt the nausea of his first kill welling up inside him.
I didn't just kill one man. I killed several.
His master had taught him hunting for Messi's sake — in part for this very moment. Grow accustomed to an animal's death, and killing a person becomes a little easier. It was a thing that raised Messi's odds of survival. But a person, unlike an animal, was a socially connected being. Many would suffer in the empty space Laud had left behind. Messi had to feel that responsibility.
Messi didn't do anything wrong, kkyu.
I know. Thanks.
Ramang patted the somewhat dejected Messi's shoulder. Time had passed, and Ramang had composed himself to some degree.
"Still, it's a blessing you're here."
"Pardon?"
"You... you felt mana, didn't you?"
Messi realized what misconception the man was under. Seeing him suddenly become a mana user, Ramang had taken him for a genius who'd awakened mana without a cultivation method — the way Ayla had. But it was a timely misunderstanding. Explaining it any other way would have been complicated. He could hardly admit he'd stolen and learned the Ahental cultivation method.
"I actually gained a few insights from my master's diary."
"I figured as much. You suddenly seemed like a different person, hungry to get stronger... I thought even a complete stranger — even an enemy — wouldn't have given you that."
That stung a little.
"Now that you know your own gifts, it's only natural you'd take an interest in House Ahental. Knights are cooler than healers, after all. Right?"
"That's true. But Ahental Swordsmanship..."
"You."
Ramang's voice suddenly grew heavy.
"You don't need to make excuses to me. I'm not particularly gifted, so I've watched plenty of friends surpass me. Every now and then there were ones who produced results that defied all common sense. Just like you."
"...What do you mean?"
"Passing through the Ant Tunnels, you must have seen Ahental Swordsmanship until you were sick of it. With talent like yours, you'd have understood it just by watching. Am I right?"
He really had the wrong idea. Still, Messi didn't deny it. In a way, it wasn't that far from the truth. There was no need to reject Ramang's help in conveniently inventing a plausible explanation. Messi simply nodded, a little shyly, and left it at that.
"Even so, I'd like you to keep it a secret from everyone."
"Why? Everyone would respect you even more. The Young Master would like you even better. Having personally selected someone of outstanding talent would speak to his own keen eye."
"The Young Master is fine. The others aren't. If I stay by his side going forward, more people will start targeting me. Better to keep my claws hidden than to show them."
"Hah. You really are something. And that puts me in a bind."
"Pardon?"
"If the man who saved my life is this remarkable, there won't be anything left for me to help you with. Haha."
A dad joke, and not a particularly funny one. Messi laughed along anyway, feeling he'd thoroughly won Ramang's goodwill.
The two of them gathered Laud's belongings and set out for the Woodsman's Fortress. Following behind Ramang, Messi suddenly turned his head. He could see the spot where Laud's corpse had been burned black.
Sword Master material, huh...
Ereb asked again, as if he couldn't believe it.
"Laud? Ken and Vlado?"
Messi dumped an assortment of items onto Ereb's desk — a Red Scroll, a ring, armor, and more.
"What in the world is this... Sir Ramang! Say something!"
When Ereb snapped at him, Ramang had no choice but to open his mouth.
"All three were traitors."
The Young Master let out a hollow breath and sank deep into his chair.
"You're asking me to believe that, Sir Ramang?"
"If that would put your mind at ease... then by all means, Young Master."
Ereb noticed that the armor Ramang had borrowed was heavily damaged. He quickly realized that was Laud's handiwork.
"Messi. You explain what happened."
Ramang didn't seem able to speak. Messi explained everything as it was, omitting only a slight adjustment to his own part in it. The longer he talked, the darker Ereb's face became.
"My brother played another of his tricks. I fell for it and lost a precious subordinate..."
He was trembling. Ereb was so furious his vision seemed about to go white. Had the two men in front of him not been in the room, he would have smashed every piece of furniture in it.
"Young Master, this is not the time for anger. Collect yourself first."
"You're telling me to stop being a person and become a monster. Do I look like I'm in my right mind right now?"
"In this group, you are the commander. If you waver, nothing gets done. You need to pull yourself together and start rooting out the traitors."
"There are more traitors?"
"I told you, didn't I. Human psychology is a curious thing."
Ereb's expression hardened. He remembered dividing into ten squads in the Ant Tunnels. Squad 3 had been Laud's.
"How do we get them to confess?"
"Search their persons. Anyone found with a Red Scroll is an accomplice."
The Red Scrolls on the desk were the ones Messi had found on Vlado and Laud. He had used one himself, so there were three in total — one Dark Field, and the other two enhancement magics of unknown identity.
"The Red Cross Magic College... so those bastards had their hands in our house as well."
"I think the opposite. Someone from the house reached out to them."
"Why?"
"Black magic... is different in nature from ordinary magic. It takes desire and greed as its medium. Rather than an outsider coveting House Ahental, an insider who knows the house well would be able to give shape to a far more specific desire."
Right now, there was only one person in House Ahental capable of that. And that person was involved in this incident as well.
"You mean my brother?"
"It's too early to be certain at this stage."
He accepted it, but inwardly he had already made up his mind. Ereb shouted, seething with rage.
"Bring me the remaining two from Squad 3, Sir Ramang!"
"Understood, Young Master. I'll search their belongings as well."
"You don't need to. Red Scrolls are too conspicuous and too symbolic — they wouldn't have stored them separately. They'll be on their persons. And if you go rummaging through their bags and some other traitor we don't know about catches wind of it, there's no telling what they might do."
Ramang nodded at Messi's advice.
Not long after he left the room, seven knights came up. Two of them belonged to Squad 3. They hadn't been given any prior word, it seemed — there was no shadow on their faces.
"You called for us, Young Master!"
"Right. Hulan, Ohens of Squad 3. Thanks for coming. I have something to say to the two of you specifically."
"To us?"
"Laud, Vlado, and Ken are dead. They were traitors."
"...!"
"Which is why I currently suspect the two of you as well."
"N-no... I'm not — we're not!"
"We're innocent, Young Master!"
Hulan and Ohens dropped to their knees and pleaded. But Ereb's resolve did not waver.
"Search those two."
The remaining five knights swarmed in, subdued Hulan and Ohens, and stripped off their armor. A familiar object soon emerged from them.
"A Red Scroll."
"That — I just bought that! I heard it performed well...!"
"Someone shut that disgusting mouth."
The words had barely left him when Ramang stuffed a rag into Hulan's mouth and drove a fist into his gut.
"Guh... gh... ghh!"
"Unbelievable. Why did you betray me? Wasn't Squad 3 my knight-order classmates of seventeen years?"
"Spare us, Young Master!"
"Seventeen years at my side and you still learned nothing. Don't you know the words I hate most are 'spare me'? Is just staying alive all that matters to you?"
Murderous intent flowed from Ereb's eyes. He looked ready to order their heads taken off at any moment, so Messi stepped in.
"Do the two of you want to live?"
Hulan and Ohens nodded frantically.
"Give me the names of the other traitors. I'll see that you live."
The two of them confessed immediately. If they'd had any camaraderie, there should have been at least a moment's hesitation. There wasn't. Then again, if they'd been that sort, they wouldn't have betrayed anyone in the first place. There were four more accomplices.
Ramang had Squad 2 bring in the remaining four. They were searched on their knees, and Red Scrolls came out without fail.
Ereb was devastated. Those four were also his classmates from the Ahental Knights — which meant they had been closer to him than the other knights. The men of Squads 1 and 2, knowing this, were busy watching the Young Master's face. Ereb felt it too, and it only deepened his shame and fury. It felt as if he'd been publicly humiliated.
I'll kill them all. Every last one of them.
His mind was filling with murderous intent when Messi approached and wrote on a blank sheet of paper. A written conversation.
"You...!"
Ereb was about to explode at Messi's intervention, but Messi's hand kept moving across the paper.
The words head of the house quieted Ereb.
Ereb, about to write something, suddenly stopped. After a moment, the pen moved again.
Ereb slammed the desk and shot to his feet, shouting. The six men on their knees went pale and hung their heads. The way they trembled was almost laughable.
Unable to contain himself, Ereb went to the window and drew ragged breaths. Once his excitement had finally subsided, he came back and sat at the desk.
Given Ereb's temperament, that would be extraordinarily difficult. Messi himself wondered, Is this even possible?
Unexpectedly, Ereb's hand moved lightly as he scribbled.
So that was the reason.
Messi wrote out the scheme he'd already mapped and showed it to him. After a moment's thought, Ereb spoke.
"I'll decide you six's punishment tomorrow. Sir Ramang, disarm them, restrain them, and lock them all in one room. No need to give them water or food. It'd be a waste."
"...Understood."
He'd expected an order to strangle them on the spot. The result was otherwise. Ramang was puzzled, but figured Messi had pulled some kind of string.
After chaining the six tightly and throwing them into a room, Ramang sought Messi out again.
"Messi, what are you thinking? Don't tell me this is because I cried a little over Laud dying? Traitors have to be dealt with! A dog that bites its master's heel will bite again."
"We need to conserve our knights."
"Knights?"
"We don't know what's waiting in the ruins, but one thing is certain — something put the Woodcutters in danger. We need to keep as many knights alive as possible. And..."
Messi conveyed the First Young Master's intent to Ramang as well. It was a reasonable argument. The First Young Master was every bit as cunning as the Young Master, so it was entirely plausible.
"So what do you intend to do? Forgiveness alone isn't going to fix this."
"Just do as I say."
The six knights were trembling. A day's stay of execution had been granted, but they all knew what awaited them. Cold iron chains were wound around their bodies, and thick cloth stuffed in their mouths made even breathing difficult.
They rolled trembling eyes at one another, conversing with their gazes alone. Every look spoke of despair. They had watched the Young Master for years; they knew his temperament all too well. We're all going to die... There's no way he'll let us live.God, why did I fall for that persuasion...I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die...If I die, what happens to my family? To our house? What have I done...
The room was a cauldron of chaos. Silent screams, despair, and turmoil filled every corner.
When the sun set and late night came, Ramang entered. The six of them were a wreck. Even without any particular torture, the psychological torment had left them in shambles.
"Tsk tsk..."
The six couldn't even look at the tongue-clicking Ramang, hanging their heads. They had no face to show.
"I'll ungag you one at a time. Eat."
Ramang untied the gags in order and spooned stew into their mouths. Overwhelmed by that kindness, the traitors burst into tears one by one.
"Don't cry. It'll only make it harder to breathe."
Once everyone had calmed down, Ramang added just one more thing.
"This meal didn't come from me..."
"...?"
All six looked at him with questioning faces. Come to think of it, Ramang was famous for being strict. Doing something like this without orders? It didn't make sense.
Then who?
The six soon thought of one person — their knight-order classmate and master, Ereb. Crying broke out all around.
"Hngh... please tell him we're sorry... that we'll accept any punishment... please tell him thank you for this last warm meal..."
They all wept with the same thought. Ramang didn't reply, only nodded.
"You foolish people. Why on earth did you fall for the First Young Master. Your armor... hah. Never mind."
The way he couldn't quite bring himself to say it filled all six knights with questions.
"Why stop mid-sentence? We're about to be executed. What could you possibly need to keep secret from us?"
"The First Young Master never intended to let you live. Messi found magic circles engraved inside your armor. Given enough time, they would have detonated."
"What?!"
"Th-that son of a bitch!"
"Damn it, we were completely played!"
Rage was carved into the six knights' eyes. Once their mouths were free, they began pouring out fury, curses, and resentment without pause — and watching them, a smile formed at the corner of Ramang's mouth.