Chapter 3
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: Road to the Imperial Palace (2)
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Clunk— clunk—
Sitting at the front of the jolting carriage bound for the Imperial Palace, Imperial Administrator Anes was lost deep in thought. Her sharp gaze was, of course, fixed on the cube frozen solid.
‘This isn’t an ordinary cube.’
It wasn’t quite a Holy Relic, but it was an item appraised at the level of a relic. An artifact with the remarkable effect of restoring a sorcerer’s energy simply by twirling one’s fingers.
And yet Zekiel had frozen it. Without any warning whatsoever.
A sign of profound mastery in Freezing Magic. Anes couldn’t help but wonder just who this person being transported to the Imperial Palace might be.
A mage? Well, mages were far too rare for that to be a casual guess.
“What the hell is this guy?”
Anes mulled over the appearance of the man riding in the back.
White hair reaching his shoulders, a notably roguish impression, casually chomping away at Sunweed...
...Far removed from the dignity mages typically pursued.
Her gaze shifted to the soldier handling the horse beside her.
“The person we’re transporting right now—he’s no criminal, right?”
“Yes. Definitely not a criminal.”
“But not a guest, either.”
“...Yeah. Anyway, isn’t this the first time His Imperial Majesty has specifically summoned someone? Pretty shocking.”
“A mage, maybe?”
“...No clue. There’s zero known information.”
Maybe he’d used a magic scroll.
“Like using a magic scroll inside the carriage.”
“No chance. This carriage blocks scroll activation.”
“Right, figured as much.”
Zekiel seemed to be a pure mage. And one of considerable skill at that.
Anes pulled out her prized possession No. 1—her notebook—but even flipping it open offered no real clues.
[Special Notes for This Mission]
─ Do not try to understand with common sense
─ Avoid engaging if possible
“Hmm.”
Anes brimmed with confidence when it came to strictly following the rules, but instructions this vague were a complete first. For someone like her, who prized common sense and reason above all, to abandon common sense?
No idea. The more she questioned, the more question marks seemed to multiply.
“How much farther to Fatal?”
“We’ll arrive any minute now. Uh, speaking of which...”
The soldier glanced warily at Anes.
“Out with it.”
“Routing through Fatal on purpose... doesn’t seem like they plan to bring him to the Imperial Palace alive. Am I wrong?”
“Fair point.”
Danger zone. Lawless land. Fatal.
The Imperial Palace had explicitly ordered them to pass through this region on the way. Detouring through a place that would strain even a full detachment of soldiers.
“Who knows. We’ll see.”
Sunset hues danced across the cube as Anes rolled it with a clack. Pondering the higher-ups’ intentions wasn’t her style. Her job was simply to carry out orders and report back.
Tak.
At that moment, a single finger snap echoed from inside the carriage.
“Ah.”
Anes shot a glare backward, brows furrowed.
...Because he’d frozen the cube again.
“...Annoying.”
What the hell was his deal?
When the crescent moon hung in the night sky, the carriage finally came to a stop.
“Get out.”
Anes opened the door.
I stepped down from the carriage and scanned my surroundings. It looked like any ordinary city, but the chilling atmosphere was impossible to ignore. That alone let me pinpoint our location instantly.
“Fatal? Did the Imperial Palace relocate here without telling anyone?”
“We’ll stay here for the night.”
“Why? Another order from on high?”
“Don’t refer to His Imperial Majesty that way.”
“Never said emperor.”
“...”
Anes furrowed her brow, as if dealing with something utterly beneath her.
“No word games.”
“So, why spend the night here of all places?”
When heading from my old haunt to the Imperial Palace, Fatal was a detour with zero reason to visit. I was curious why they’d chosen the long route.
“His Imperial Majesty’s will. And you’re staying here alone.”
“Aha.”
Detour via Fatal at the emperor’s command—the intent was plain as day.
Every region has its claim to fame.
So what was Fatal known for? Prisons? Vicious criminals?
Fatal was where they dumped the worst offenders and left them to slaughter one another. Most serious criminals got exiled here.
“Having me clean up the trash before even showing my face.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle.
Come back alive. That brief command meant this. Either take out the criminals and survive, or get culled and die. One or the other.
Lawless or not, basic structures existed. I followed Anes’s lead into a massive inn with an attached tavern.
“Yes. The order will be like this.”
Without bothering to ask my preference, Anes ordered for me on her own.
True to a city of vicious criminals, the food was dismal. Just scalding watery gruel and some barely seasoned corn kernels.
Anes picked up her utensils first. She shoveled the appetite-killing slop past her lips without a second thought.
I pulled out some Sunweed and asked,
“How’s it taste?”
“No idea. It’s mealtime, so I eat.”
“Living off a salary ain’t easy, huh? Having to choke down crap like this.”
“You’re no honored guest either. Your future treatment’s obvious—better get used to meals like this ahead of time.”
“Pass. I’d sooner starve.”
The meal continued in silence after that.
Anes slurped her gruel at precise intervals, like she was timing it, while I gnawed on my poor Sunweed. Blurry vision. Nice and relaxed.
Surprisingly, Anes was the first to break the quiet.
“You a mage?”
She twitched an eyebrow at being called sloppy.
“In Fatal, mages make prime targets.”
“Anywhere they do.”
“Right. Magic scrolls upended half the continent.”
With magic scrolls advancing so dramatically, new jobs like magic scholars and scrollers popped up, and the number of true mages plummeted—a natural outcome.
Hard to call yourself strong relying solely on magic these days.
No need to laboriously cast spells with your own body. Better to build other skills than sink time into magic practice.
Oh, and one more thing. The Erosion Phenomenon.
Anes chose that moment to speak up.
“The Erosion Phenomenon’s gotten bad lately. Fatal especially.”
“Already heard.”
“Saves me the trouble, then. No need to mention how those cursed by erosion treat mages as their staple diet.”
“Yeah, they do drool at the sight.”
“Spot on. And here you are, a mage.”
Magic scrolls owed much of their popularity to points like this.
Train your mana to become a mage, and you paint a target on your back. Use scrolls only? Convenient. Safe.
Anes brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. She blew on the spoonful of gruel before sliding it into her mouth again.
“Fatal’s a lawless zone. Anything goes. Overflowing with criminals nursing grudges against the Imperial Palace.”
“I’ve got my own grudges against the Palace. Not a criminal, though.”
Wait, criminal enough? Don’t even know which princess accepted the proposal.
“Imagine criminals hit with the erosion curse on top. How savage would they get? Simple math. No need to overthink.”
“All that chatter just to scare me?”
“Yes. Feeling the fear?”
“Yawn-worthy. Practice more.”
“Resigned to your fate?”
“Nah. I’m kinda strong.”
Phew, I exhaled a long plume of Sunweed smoke. Anes narrowed her eyes and fanned it away from her face.
Then she flipped open her notebook on the table and drew some checkmarks.
[Transport to Fatal] ✓
[Eat meal] ✓
[Scare him] X
[Observe and interim report]
Catching my gaze, Anes hurriedly snapped the notebook shut.
“You work in such a cute way. How old are you?”
“I’ll head out now. See you tomorrow morning.”
Anes departed, her bob swaying.
The inn had emptied out. How much time had passed?
‘Hungry.’
The thought suddenly struck Zekiel. Food or no food, hunger always wins in the end. With no choice, he picked up the spoon.
The gruel tasted predictably like garbage. Anes, who’d polished it off without complaint, suddenly seemed impressive.
He propped both feet on the table and twirled the spoon between his fingertips. Chewing a fresh Sunweed, he stared off into nothing.
“Come to think of it... back then, it started like this too.”
When he’d joined the Imperial Palace’s secret organization, that’s how it began.
Locked fifteen people in a sealed chamber, released only the last survivor. Then refilled with fourteen more for the survivor—and repeated that fifteen times.
Compared to then, his current situation felt almost adorably tame.
Thud— thud—
Footsteps began to echo.
People started filing into the inn’s tavern. Too many to bother counting, they swiftly formed a circular encirclement around Zekiel.
The armed thugs exchanged glances and grinned.
“Looks loaded. Big score.”
“Broke as hell. You blind?”
Zekiel replied casually.
“Saw you step off the Imperial Palace carriage.”
“Gonna marry a princess, but not Palace folk.”
...No clue which princess.
“Yeah? We’ve got beef with the Palace.”
“Kill him first. Loot whatever drops.”
The encirclement tightened slowly.
Feet still propped on the table, Zekiel spat out his Sunweed.
Sss—
“...”
The lead thug approaching Zekiel halted abruptly. Brushing his arm at the strange sensation, he found it covered in white flakes.
“...Frost?”
His arm was unmistakably rimed with frost. Come to think of it, the temperature had plummeted. His breath fogged the air.
“You lot should’ve worn warmer coats.”
Zekiel asked, arms crossed behind his head.
The exhaled smoke looked oddly like frosty breath.
“It’s about to get pretty cold.”
His lips curled up, the picture of leisure.