Nocturne's Shadow
A room draped in black curtains.
There were no windows. A single lantern hung on the wall, swaying precariously. Its light cast long shadows across the long table at the center of the room, and beyond those shadows sat a man.
His leather-gloved fingertips slowly turned the thin stack of documents resting on the table.
Rustle…
"…So that's how it is."
At the man's murmur, someone knelt opposite him, head bowed. Half his face was hidden by a black hood, and he barely dared to breathe.
"Is something amiss?"
"The northern affairs are rising to the surface. This time, it may reach us as well."
His voice was neither loud nor soft, yet the subordinate's eyes flickered slightly at the words.
The North.
"That is the place He watches most carefully, is it not?"
"Indeed. It is also the most important."
Within the Empire, the fiercest fighting raged in the North. Every year thousands of soldiers died there, and just as many were dragged in to replace them. Precisely because it was a zone of endless conflict, it had so many uses.
The man's gaze sank, cold and still.
"Where are they now?"
"Currently inside the Imperial treasure vault."
The man nodded at the reply. Even for them, eliminating targets inside the palace would be reckless. The slightest exposure would reduce everything to nothing.
"They will come out soon enough. Do not miss that moment."
"Understood. But… all of them?"
"No. One will suffice as an example."
His eyes lingered on a single page of the documents. There was no name, no photograph—only dense information concerning the northern battlefield, the Imperial Palace, and several merchant houses.
He turned the page. The target was clearly marked.
He tossed the papers to the subordinate, who forced the contents into his memory. Once he had them by heart, he incinerated the documents.
Fwoosh!
"Do not drag it out," the man said.
"Shall we leave a mark?"
"No. This time he must vanish without a trace. As if he never existed at all."
The candle flame wavered for a moment, as though the darkness itself were smiling.
"Let them know," the man ordered, "that no one is free before Nocturne."
With that command, the subordinate's form dissolved like smoke.
"This is…?"
Arteon stopped without meaning to before a slender bracelet worked in silver. Somehow the mana flowing from it felt uncannily compatible with him.
The curator’s eyes brightened.
"Oh? Looking at something interesting, are we?"
"What ability does this bracelet possess?"
"It raises cold resistance."
"Cold resistance?"
The curator nodded.
"It shields the body so thoroughly that one scarcely feels even the harshest freezing weather. Unearthed long ago from a dungeon in the North. For a man of the North such as yourself, it seems a particularly fine match."
Arteon carefully lifted the bracelet. Cold resistance might sound unremarkable, yet—
Just as he said…
To Arteon of the North it could become a treasure beyond price. Of all the barren hardships of the northern frontier, nothing tormented the soldiers more than the cold. If he could be free of it—
…The things I could do would multiply enormously.
Still, he did not decide at once. He took his time and examined every single item in the gold-grade vault. There were more than two hundred pieces; the process was long, but he was thorough to a fault.
In the end—
"I will take this one."
"No need for an artifact charged with offensive magic? Or a ring of invisibility?"
"Thank you, but this feels best to me."
The bracelet that raised cold resistance was Arteon’s final choice. The curator’s suggestions—flame magic, invisibility for concealment—were certainly tempting. Yet—
If the recharge takes more than three months…
A bracelet that continuously bolstered cold resistance was far superior. It did not merely numb the sensation of cold; it used mana to protect the body against it. With that, he could wear lighter combat gear and turn the advantage to real use.
"Hmph… If that is your decision, so be it. Take it, then."
The curator wrote something in the ledger he held, then led them out.
"Finally finished, are you?"
"Find anything good?"
Tertian and Isaac, waiting outside, spoke as Arteon emerged. He merely offered a faint smile and lightly displayed the bracelet on his wrist. In turn they showed the gear they had chosen—Tertian a pair of boots, Isaac a single sword. Faint mana leaked from all three pieces; none of them looked ordinary.
"Good work."
"Haha, this is my daily fare—hardly worth calling work. I shall close the doors now."
As the curator shut the vault once more, Imperial Guard Commander Taolk led Arteon and the other two toward the palace entrance.
"Congratulations, all of you. And this is a letter Lord Velkain left. He has business that will keep him away for two days, so until then you may spend your time freely."
Isaac read the letter Taolk handed him. Just as the man said, two full days of free time had been granted.
"Well now… this is pure luck, isn’t it?"
They had money, and this was the most prosperous capital in the Empire. Isaac grinned.
"Then we meet again here at noon two days from now."
"May we move separately?"
"Three men together? No need. Enjoy yourselves however you like and assemble on time. Even a little lateness will be treated as desertion, so take care."
"Understood."
"Understood."
Tertian and Arteon answered in unison. Isaac soon went his own way.
"See you in two days, then."
Without hesitation Tertian also turned and strode off, leaving Arteon alone in an instant. He scratched his cheek. No real need for protection or surveillance, yet to leave him this exposed…
He turned his gaze to the streets.
Here…
For the recent meritorious awards he had been granted a mansion on the capital’s outskirts. That meant he could leave the North and settle here if he wished. Arteon regarded the streets in silence.
His former life. Ten years spent on the barren northern soil. He had witnessed countless deaths and faced mortal danger more than a hundred times. In a way it had been hell—
But to me… that place was home.
And the comrades who had stood with him had been family. He had no intention of turning back. Perhaps this opportunity could open an entirely new life. Yet the faces of comrades who had died so meaninglessly before his eyes would not leave him.
I don’t know what you are thinking…
Arteon’s fist clenched tight. He had not the slightest desire to change his mind. Whoever stood behind it all—he did not yet know—but even if it proved to be the Emperor himself—
I will make them pay the price.
He rebuked the slight loosening of his own attitude since arriving in the capital. The calm that had filled his eyes a moment before sharpened once more into a keen edge.
After scanning his surroundings, Arteon slipped into a side alley. He did not know the capital’s layout, yet shops dealing in antiques and rare artifacts usually clustered in such places.
"Being the capital… there ought to be some decent stock, right?"
Since time had been given him, he meant to use every scrap of it. Even now, this very moment—
They will be hatching their sly schemes.
Much had already changed from his previous life. Simply reclaiming Helikel Canyon at this stage would be a major upheaval for them. And besides—
I cannot know how they will move… so I must prepare.
Arteon walked deeper into the alley.
At that same moment, someone watching from afar quietly began to follow in the direction he had taken.
"Come, come, take a look over here as well!"
"Hey, young man! Try one of these!"
Unlike the neatly ordered central thoroughfare, the alleys already carried the lived-in scent of ordinary people. A space that looked like a small market thronged with merchants who had set out their stalls and were calling to passersby. An atmosphere utterly different from the North—even the northern cities rarely felt this alive.
"What is this?"
"How is it? Tasty, right?"
It looked like roughly kneaded flour dough, yet the texture was surprisingly chewy and the flavor unique. Before he knew it, Arteon held a bag of the snacks, won over by the merchant’s glib salesmanship.
"Would there happen to be a blacksmith or a shop that sells magical gear around here?"
"Of course. For a blacksmith, head just a little that way—Parker’s Forge is on the left. Not many know it, but it’s the best forge in the capital. The skill there is no ordinary thing. Magical gear is a bit farther in: go past the forge, take the left alley, and you’ll see a place with a blue door. You’ll find what you’re after there."
"Ah, thank you. And I’ll enjoy these."
"Heh, come by again next time."
Arteon set off at once for the place the merchant had described. Just as promised, a small forge that spoke of long years came into view.
A little farther, then left alley…
He turned the corner.
"This it?"
There stood the shop with the blue door the merchant had mentioned. It too bore the marks of age, yet that only made it feel more inviting.
Creak.
When he opened the door, the distinctive musty scent of old wood washed over him. The counter was empty. Arteon spoke carefully.
"Is anyone here?"
"…Who is it?"
Accompanied by a rustling sound, a slightly stooped old man emerged from the back.
"I was told this place deals in magical gear," Arteon said.
"A customer coming in person… been a long while. Well then, looking for something in particular?"
"Nothing fixed. May I see what you have for sale?"
"…Got the coin for it?"
"More than enough."
Arteon lightly lifted the pouch he carried. Gold and silver coins clinked together inside. The old man looked puzzled. The youth seemed young, yet carried such a sum…
Then—
"…Eh?"
Something caught the old man’s eye. His pupils shook violently.
"Th-that… where did you obtain it?"
"Pardon?"
At the old man’s question, Arteon tilted his head.