The Great Ahental Fire

The fire that broke out that night in the City of Ahental struck the people of the territory with such force that they came to call it the Great Ahental Fire.

Not only had the City Watch kept their alarm bells ringing through the night, leaving the citizenry trembling with unease — the blaze that began at the auction house had spread, leaving great scars of fire across the city. On top of that, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠petty criminals being held in temporary custody at Watch headquarters had escaped, and the Watch found themselves in the bizarre position of having to go out and recapture them all over again.

The people of the territory were willing to write that much off as a run of bad luck. But when the perpetrator was arrested and his identity came to light, the shockwave was something else entirely.

"So it was the heir of House Crombell who did it?"

"The man's insane! I heard he had a grudge against the Huang Merchant Group's auction house."

"That's not it — he broke in to steal one of the lots. Killed every guard standing watch over it, they say."

"Have you ever seen such a piece of filth?"

Just as every last drop of resentment and fury was pouring onto the words heir of House Crombell, the House of Ahental issued its official position.

Once the Viscount of Ahental's public notice was distributed, the people of the territory could not help but praise House Ahental.

Their so-called rival, House Crombell, had come into someone else's territory to commit arson and theft — while House Ahental was making good the damages and even taking responsibility for the livelihoods of the bereaved families. Such exemplary conduct...

It was a moment when the two houses stood in the starkest possible contrast.

Aaaargh!

The scream that slammed into his ears snapped Rowin ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠back to consciousness. Whether it was the raw desperation in that cry that had triggered his will to live, he hurriedly turned his head, trying to take stock of the situation. His body was bound to a solid iron chair with thick chains.

He was in a dark space, lit only by the orange flicker of torch-flame. A clammy dampness and the smell of blood turned his stomach.

A familiar face stood before him.

"Ereb... you bastard!!"

"Oh, you're awake?"

He asked it the way one might greet a lover stirring from sleep. Ereb was in the middle of heating a branding iron in the fire.

What did he mean to do with that? The mere thought of it made Rowin grateful he had come to his senses in time.

"Wh-what is the meaning of this? I am a noble. I am the official heir of House Crombell — treat me with the courtesy due a prisoner of war!"

"Pffhahaha, what a load of crap. That's for when you get captured in a war. You're just a thief and an arsonist."

Ereb's sneer turned Rowin's face scarlet.

Aaaargh!!

Another scream rang out from somewhere. Don't tell me...

"That... those are my knights, aren't they?"

"Don't ask questions you already know the answer to. Right now, the only people in our territory who've committed crimes serious enough to warrant torture are you lot."

"How very like a man of lowly merchant blood — you don't give a damn about the honor of nobles or knights...!"

"Didn't you throw honor away when you did the deed? You only pick it back up when it's convenient. Pathetic."

"I... I don't want to hear that from a wastrel like you!"

"At least I never stooped to theft or arson. You moron."

Ereb drove the glowing iron into the inside of Rowin's thigh.

Sssssssss!

"Gh— gaaaaaahhh!!"

"Nice scream."

"Hah... hahh... hahh..."

Only then did the situation fully register in Rowin's mind. The man in front of him was the infamous wastrel, Ereb. And that man was torturing him? Standing there with that cherry-red iron in his hand? The lunatic who'd just seared a man's thigh was smiling as if it were nothing.

If he wanted to live, he had to start using his head — and fast.

"Alright. Round two."

"...If you mutilate my body, it will put you at a disadvantage in negotiations with my house. And I will make sure every noble house knows of Ahental's barbarism!"

"That's the best you could come up with? Messi, get in here!"

The iron door creaked open. Messi stepped in, his face twisting. The stench of cooked flesh hung in the air.

"Heal this guy."

Messi immediately cast Heal on Rowin, then turned and walked right back out.

"Th-this can't be? That was Heal, wasn't it?"

Rowin stared at his thigh in shock. The iron had burned a hole straight through his dark breeches, and inside, smooth new flesh gleamed.

"There. Now you don't have to worry. Let's get on with the torture. I prepared this just for you."

Rowin began to tremble. At this rate, he would be seared with the iron over and over, then healed until not a trace remained. He asked in a shaking voice:

"Wh-what is it you want? You want me to confess? I've already been caught red-handed — what more is there to admit? You must have a reason for torturing me!"

So he was finally ready to talk. Ereb grinned and got to the point.

"It's weird, isn't it? You pulling a stunt this insane. Even if you wanted the Einhartz Mana Cultivation Method, you went way too far."

"I... I just wanted it! My greed got the better of me..."

At that moment, a scream drifted from far away — the kind of scream that sounded like a life going out.

Aaaaaaaahhh.....

Rowin thought he might go mad. He felt as if he'd been captured and bound by a deranged murderer. Ereb cheerfully picked up the branding iron.

"They've got a real professional in that other room. He's good."

Rowin's teeth chattered. His whole body shook with fear. Ereb's eyes went cold again.

"You'd better explain the real reason. Otherwise, you're the next one going into that room."

Looking at the madman in front of him, Rowin realized that if he wanted to walk out of here alive, he would have to tell the truth.

Messi stood in the middle of the torture-chamber corridor, listening to the screams.

To think a place like this existed in the dungeons beneath the inner castle. It struck him anew that the world he now inhabited was a fantasy realm not unlike the medieval age, where even the concept of human rights had yet to take root.

The modern Lee Eunho would have been retching at the stench of burning flesh. But as Messi of this other world, he was coming to accept that this was simply how things were. That the two selves could coexist at all was because they had, in their own way, reached an understanding.

The door of another torture chamber creaked open, and Ramang poked his head out.

"The screaming... should I go another round?"

"No, I think that should be enough."

"So my performance really did the trick, then."

Heh heh. Ramang wore a look of deep satisfaction. They'd needed someone to produce the screams, and they'd called in Ramang — who'd recently taken a liking to the business of deceiving Hulan, Ohens, and four other traitors at the fortress.

The other torture-chamber doors opened as well. The heads that poked out belonged to Hulan and Ohens.

"Honestly, wasn't mine more convincing?"

"What are you talking about, Hulan. Didn't you hear my scream just now? The way it faded off at the end was far more realistic. I've actually been tortured behind enemy lines, you know."

"Don't fight over that. Both of you, come out. I think that's enough."

Just as an absurd argument was about to break out, the door opened and Ereb emerged.

"Messi, you called it. Apparently Count Crombell has the remaining half."

The moment a conviction held only as a hunch was laid bare as fact.

"So it was true... the lower volume of the Einhartz Mana Cultivation Method."

Having heard Messi and Ereb's report, the Viscount of Ahental murmured in astonishment. It was the lower volume that had vanished from the world long ago. And Count Crombell had, out of nowhere, gotten his hands on it.

"We came dangerously close to disaster, my lord."

"Indeed. If those Crombell dogs had completed it, do you think they would have left us in peace?"

"Young Master Ereb and Sir Messi's judgment has saved this house!"

The retainers were in an uproar of excitement. But the Viscount of Ahental felt the same. House Crombell was already a difficult opponent to face with force in their current position — if they had obtained a high-level mana cultivation method of that caliber, the situation would have grown far more dire.

The Viscount looked at Messi with fresh amazement. This judgment, too, had clearly been his. His second son Ereb may have helped, but all he'd really done was follow Messi's lead.

Remarkable. I only went along with Sir Messi's proposal as a precaution...

He'd thought it possible, but he hadn't been certain. That was why he hadn't taken command himself, and had left it to Ereb. And yet here was the result, sitting plainly before them. Suspicion had been proven true.

Is Sir Messi some kind of guardian deity of our house? Heh heh. Extraordinary.

That was the only way to explain it — this whole affair had been like a cow stumbling backward and planting a hoof squarely on the enemy's vital point. From what he'd heard, Ereb had taken him to the auction house to buy a gift, and they'd come back having reeled in a catch as big as the heir of House Crombell...

In any case, the situation was turning in House Ahental's favor.

"Sir Messi, you've done a truly remarkable thing. You've dumped our longtime rival Crombell's reputation into the gutter... I feel quite refreshed, I must say."

The Viscount of Ahental praised Messi before the retainers and the family.

"Young Master Ereb's help was considerable."

"Yes, Ereb. You captured that whelp just as planned. Well done."

"It was not a difficult task."

But the Viscount was not one to offer only carrots so easily.

"That said, there were excesses. Had you instead sought the Huang Merchant Group's cooperation and planned Rowin's arrest with them, the damage would have been far less."

"Yes. I am reflecting on it."

At the family head's rebuke, Ereb offered an apology without a word of explanation. The unexpected response surprised the Viscount a little. Ordinarily, his second son would have launched into a string of excuses about why he'd done it.

The answer was not far to seek. There was someone else to speak on his behalf.

"My lord, Rowin's crime was not even certain. Moreover, had the Huang Merchant Group's losses not been as severe as they were this time, they would never have turned so completely against House Crombell. I ask that you take that into account."

Messi was right. Had the Huang Merchant Group known in advance and reduced their losses, they would have held a grudge against House Crombell, but it would have been a relationship that could still be mended through negotiation.

Now, however, they had crossed a river from which there was no return. Gilbert, the auction house manager, had brought a senior member of the Huang Merchant Group to the reception hall, where they were currently staging a sit-in.

The reason was simple. They wanted the heir of House Crombell handed over to them. The intent was obvious. A conflict on the scale of war was now brewing between the Huang Merchant Group and House Crombell, and they meant to apply pressure by holding the heir.

"Haha, my lord. Sir Messi's words are quite right. They say the enemy of one's enemy is one's ally — and it seems we have acquired a most formidable ally, have we not?"

"Indeed. Young Master Ereb sacrificed a pawn while looking at the far greater picture. His talent for grand strategy is the very image of yours, my lord!"

A few retainers spoke up in Ereb's defense. This was something that would have been unthinkable in the past, and Ayres's expression wavered. At last, he understood that cracks were beginning to form in his own kingdom.

The Viscount of Ahental now turned his arrow toward Ayres.

"You mobilized the City Watch."

Unlike Ereb, Ayres had no one to speak on his behalf. The retainers were watching the room, so he had to explain himself.

"A grave matter had arisen in the family — as the eldest son, how could I sit idle? The Watch's cordon was of great help in capturing them...."

"Ayres, but was it not excessive? Deploying the entire Watch. Stationing extra troops throughout the city left the people trembling with anxiety, and I hear there was even a jailbreak from the Watch's holding cells."

Unlike with Ereb, the rebuke in his voice was harsh. Ayres bowed his head. How long had it been since he'd been scolded by his father in front of the retainers?

To botch it this badly!

Ayres trembled with rage as the face of the Watch commander rose in his mind. He had taken the reckless step of deploying the entire Watch because he'd expected results to match. Instead, he'd ended up doing nothing but a favor for his younger brother.

On top of that, the village chief of Benuda Village, whom he'd temporarily placed in custody, had been swept up in the chaos and vanished. The taste in his mouth was bitter.

I would have been better off not knowing about any of this.

And it was true. Because of this incident, the Viscount of Ahental had decided to lighten the load he'd placed on his eldest son. The Viscount believed his eldest had grown arrogant from acting as proxy with too much authority for too long.

That boy... to handle so carelessly the most essential organ of governing a city... has he forgotten what truly matters?

"Ereb, this business with the Watch is not something we can simply let pass. It seems your brother has too much on his plate... would you take charge of the City Watch?"

"...!"

Everyone's eyes went wide. Did this not mean transferring what Ayres held to Ereb?

"I... I will do my utmost."

"Good. I expect fine results."

There was no chance Ereb would refuse. Ayres's face went dark.

The Viscount of Ahental ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠next looked at Messi. He was a man who believed in clear rewards and punishments — there was no way it would end there. He looked at Messi with a somewhat awkward expression.

"Hmm... it seems we ought to give Sir Messi some manner of reward as well. Is there anything you desire?"

They were already preparing everything Messi had asked for. He couldn't think of anything more to add. But Messi knew exactly what he needed to obtain. He pointed to the old book in the Viscount's hand.

"This... surely not?"

"The upper volume of the Einhartz Mana Cultivation Method. I would like to be the first to read it."

"...!!"

Everyone stared in shock. This was no longer an ordinary mana cultivation method. It had become an object that, if leaked to House Crombell even by accident, could spell catastrophe. The retainers thought that if an outsider like Messi were to read it first, he might even strike a deal with House Crombell.

"Sir Messi is already a benefactor of this house, and the one who brought us this mana cultivation method. What is there to worry about so needlessly?"

At the Viscount of Ahental's rebuke, the retainers bowed their heads. The Viscount smiled and personally handed the book to Messi.

"I hope it serves you well in reaching your 'goal,' Sir Messi."

"Thank you."

Messi accepted the book. He had not expected the Viscount to refuse. The Viscount of Ahental was a man who knew Messi's goal. He knew better than anyone that Messi wanted to grow stronger...

If Messi mastered ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the Einhartz Mana Cultivation Method, he would use his wits to obtain the remaining half as well. That was what the Viscount would anticipate. The expectant smile on the Viscount's face confirmed it.

Frox, determined to reach House Ahental even a day sooner, burned through teleportation spells the moment his mental energy recovered even a fraction, closing the distance. That he had compressed a journey of several days into a single day was proof enough that he was a formidable mage.

But when he actually arrived at the City of Ahental, what was this?

...Has there been a war?

The mood among the city's people was thoroughly grim, and every last one of them was busy cursing House Crombell. On top of that, seeing parts of the city blackened and gutted by fire, he realized something major had happened the night before. Asking the townsfolk, he was able to piece together the situation.

This is bad... if I go to House Ahental now, I'll be dragged straight onto a battlefield with them.

From Frox's perspective, it was the worst possible outcome. Even if it was a close friend's affair, he had no taste for work that took lives.

And yet... it was the sort of thing that should have made him turn around on the spot — and still he could not stop his feet from carrying him toward the inner castle.

I can't help it — I'm far too curious about what they found in the ruins of the Forest of Resentment!

Curiosity was leading him toward his fate.