Omen of the Magic Sword

The magic sword had emerged at this time. It was even already in covert use. Isaac hadn't anticipated it. But it wasn't entirely unexpected.

The forces of the great houses that the marquis had mobilized to seize Bernsi. The dimegtrium shields and spears they carried. Those were also weapons crafted through republican technology. Armaments that disrupted mana flow and neutralized low-density magic or aura. With the republic's revolution, many magitech engineers must have fled to the empire. It was safe to assume the empire now held most of the technologies invented or discovered in the republic.

"What Boatmer wants is civil war. More precisely, a kingdom where the royalists are swept away and the parliamentarians gain the upper hand."

"I'm an old man sick to death of political strife."

"But you want the First Prince on the throne."

"You don't mince words. That's not something you should say lightly—or at all."

"So you're fine with the Second Prince becoming king?"

"……."

Reihi didn't answer. It was a question he couldn't.

"Even if the parliamentarians prevail, the Second Prince won't take the throne. The empire doesn't want him as heir ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠either."

"That's surprising."

"What master would hire a worker who butchers his own goose?"

Reihi grimaced bitterly after speaking, casually likening the empire to the master and the kingdom to the goose.

"Help us. Protecting Goethe won't harm the kingdom."

"No pipe?"

"None."

"Tch. Wait here. I need to think."

Reihi ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠rose unsteadily. Seeing such surprises at his age made Isaac wonder if he was truly that old yet.

"This might help with your thinking."

Isaac handed Reihi a bundle of rolled cotton-fiber paper.

"What's this?"

"The solution."

"Solution to what?"

"A solution for long-range communication."

"Another republican tech you stole?"

"If you want to get technical, it came from my head."

Reihi looked at Isaac and shook his head.

"I can't tell if you're serious or joking anymore."

"Dead serious."

"I'll read it."

Reihi took the bundle and left the stone chamber.

'Even conning one old man isn't easy.'

Isaac sighed and sat on the weathered wooden chair.

'Then again, even I could hardly believe that future.'

The future Isaac knew came only from books and Yonas. What he'd personally witnessed was the ruined Goethe Manor and countless corpses. Wars erupting everywhere, chaos following. Every nation racing to develop magitech weapons, draining their treasuries. Magitech advancing dazzlingly. Non-mages wielding magic, non-knights using aura. From then on, magic and aura were neither divine powers as the old church claimed, nor nobles' privilege, nor justification for special rights. It bred class conflict and chaos anew. By then, human lives would be lighter than feathers. Rivers of blood would flow, death commoner than weeds.

Isaac harbored no absurd goal of preventing such catastrophe. He just wanted to protect what mattered amid it all.

Then, urgent footsteps shattered his reverie.

"What... what is this?"

Reihi returned to the stone chamber, flushed and waving the cotton-fiber paper.

"Artificial rings... artificial rings..."

The unfamiliar words lingered in his mouth.

The marquis returned just over ten days after departing on his long journey. Though bearing good news, he didn't look pleased.

"The royals have recognized our autonomy. Here's the decree."

The fine parchment, stamped with the king's seal, granted Goethe autonomy while stating shield taxes would no longer be paid.

The marquis avoided the count's gaze yet kept watching his expression.

"Well done."

The count replied flatly, as if it were only natural. Even with a century's chains broken, he showed little joy.

"Continue improving relations with the royals."

"……Yes."

The marquis answered in a hollow voice. The count had many holds over him. Glass orbs containing boys' heads. Ledgers of royal-banned goods traded with the royals. Exposure meant the marquis's death.

"Not leaving?"

The marquis hesitated long after the count dismissed him before finally moving. He scrutinized the count's face repeatedly. But the count's impassive expression revealed nothing.

"……I'll take my leave."

The Boatmer viscount's chamberlain, Guttrut, with whom he'd plotted, had been found out. Guttrut was assassinated, and the escort pursuing the killer all slain. Only the count could have done it.

Yet the count hadn't questioned the marquis or mentioned Guttrut's death. He acted as if he knew nothing or it never happened.

Did he truly not know? Or was he playing ignorant while surveilling the marquis's every move?

Guttrut had died ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠right beside him, throat pierced. Since then, the marquis couldn't relax for a moment. Closing his eyes brought dreams of a hole in his throat, blood gushing. He unconsciously rubbed his neck. It felt like someone watched him always.

How would Viscount Boatmer react? Might he think the marquis leaked info to Goethe and deem him a traitor? How would the viscount treat him once he was used up?

"Damn it."

The marquis muttered a low curse. Every move read. His final card blocked futilely. Never cornered like this. He felt like a fly, swattable with a flick.

"You there."

He stopped a passing servant.

"Yes?"

"Got any liquor?"

He desperately craved brandy.

Early dawn. The manor was still quiet. A carriage waited at the entrance, Hans busily loading luggage.

"Enet. Stay here if you want."

"I'll come."

"As I said, there'll be war. It'll be dangerous."

Boatmer wouldn't bring his full forces to Binvelt. Isaac wasn't worth that time and money. But to preserve his reputation, he'd send enough to subjugate Binvelt. With the declaration of war accepted, blood would flow. And blades were blind.

"Still, I'll go. I might be useful somewhere."

Enet said, biting her lip.

"If you want, I won't stop you."

After confirming her resolve several times, Isaac nodded.

After Boatmer's declaration, the manor buzzed with unrest. The count held council with vassals at Goethe Manor, then returned to Winterband. War clouds gathered not just from Boatmer but the demon realm in the White Snake Mountains.

Isaac planned to slip quietly to Binvelt. Hence the early dawn departure.

Of course, not everything went to plan.

"Huff, huff. Enet, Enet! You're really—"

Maid Clara burst out in her nightgown.

"Clara?"

"You're really going? You could die!"

Clara gripped Enet's shoulders tightly.

"I told you. I'm going."

"You......"

"I want a different life."

"……."

Clara bowed her head. Then, tense-faced, she looked at Isaac.

"Please take care of Enet, Baron. Once you've embraced her, you must take responsibility."

Her voice trembled faintly. Everyone—nobles and servants—had seen Isaac brutally beat the envoy in the great hall and try to seize a guard's sword to kill him. Boatmer's chamberlain was a noble. Isaac would kill nobles without hesitation if they crossed him. Voicing this demand took immense courage.

"Clara!"

Enet flushed, blocking her.

"What? Can't I say it? You must bring her back alive."

"S-sorry, young master. Clara's not fully awake."

"It's fine."

Isaac chuckled.

"Come back alive, Enet. If there's a good man in Binvelt, let me know."

Clara hugged Enet tightly, sniffling.

"Oh, and this."

She blew her nose and handed over a letter.

"What's this? One of the letters sent to you."

"I won't read it. I can't anyway."

"You should see this one. Have someone literate read it later."

Not just Clara saw them off despite the early hour. First Nanny Gisela, then Butler Schrader, and Yonas.

"Take this for the road."

Gisela offered a basket of apple pie, rich with sweet, nutty warmth still fresh from the oven.

"Thanks, Nanny. Stay healthy till we meet again."

"You stay safe, young master."

She hugged him, teary-eyed. To her, he was heading to his death. Publicly, Isaac was a wastrel. Disowned by Goethe for killing a servant, paying the rightful price. But to her, he was just Isaac. Despite rumors, despite not knowing his true intentions. She had eyes that saw him plainly. She knew ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠his nature—or so she believed.

"Big bro, if you need me, just say! I'll smash 'em all!"

Sleepy Yonas rubbed his eyes.

"You... where'd you learn that?"

"Huh? Vivi taught me. Says men gotta know rough talk sometimes."

"……."

Vivi was Violet's nickname.

'Didn't peg her for that.'

Isaac briefly regretted entrusting Yonas's education to her.

"Return anytime you're weary. This is still your home."

With Schrader's farewell last, Isaac's group boarded the carriage. The coachman flicked the reins lightly, and it sped north along the highway.

The carriage interior was quiet. Enet stared out the window; Isaac read a packed book. Hans wanted to chat but found no topic, just rolling his eyes. Then he noticed the letter Enet held.

"Enet, what's that letter?"

"Oh, this? No idea. Roza packed it for me."

Enet spoke of the letters flooding in after the tournament. All on fine paper, contents unknown. Roza later hinted: mostly offers to adopt as a lady or hire as tutor.

"Heard most were like that. No clue why she packed this one specially."

"Mind if I read it?"

"You read common tongue?"

"Learned the alphabet. Can handle basic sentences."

Hans said confidently. To serve Isaac, he needed basic literacy. He'd been self-studying.

But sadly, Hans couldn't read it. It was in elegant noble script. After flipping and inverting it futilely, he sighed.

"Sorry."

"It's fine. Not that curious anyway."

"Want me to?"

Isaac looked up from his book.

"No need. Don't trouble yourself, young—Baron."

"I'm curious."

Enet protested, but Isaac took it from Hans. Laughter burst from him after a few lines. Enet and Hans eyed him puzzled.

"Now I get why Roza packed this. Very important."

"Huh?"

"I'll read it."

Isaac grinned at puzzled Enet.

"St-stop! Please stop reading!"

Enet's face turned beet red.

"Why? It's good."

To Isaac's old soul, young love games were fresh and amusing. No money, power, magic, or scholarship in it. Yet a noble writing such a lengthy, earnest letter to commoner Enet. His feelings must match.

"Quite the love-filled letter."

Hans snickered.

"Old man!"

Enet yelled, but it only fueled Hans's laughter.

"Give it here, Baron. Just a prank letter."

"Doesn't seem prankish. Name and house at the end. 'Beltran von Bühner, who offers eternal worship and love to you. Your faithful servant, aspiring devoted knight.' He's totally smitten."

Beltran von Bühner. Isaac remembered the name. Boatmer vassal's second son, nearly awakening the spirit king in his scheme. Impressed at the tournament with a massive ice block spell.

"Young master, stay alert. Suitors after Enet."

"Guess so."

"Ugh......"

Enet hid her flushed face.

Thud! The carriage jolted to a halt.

"B-Baron, s-sir."

The coachman stammered in fear.

A dozen armed men blocked the road ahead.