Baroa's Appearance
A mage with such abilities couldn't be common. Otherwise, perhaps high-ranking mages were all eccentric by nature. Moreover, he had almost no memory of hearing such casual speech.
Yet why did it feel familiar…? How strange.
As the campfire's embers began to fade, Lucius's fingers twitched ever so slightly.
The dying flames flared back to life at a comfortable size, and a Salamander leapt out from within.
Silas, seeing a materialized spirit for the first time, let out an admiring gasp.
"So this is a Salamander!"
"……."
"They say exceptional mages command spirits as well. Truly remarkable."
The Salamander scratched its head with a hind leg before trotting off to keep watch nearby. Even its small frame carried an imposing presence, drawing several more exclamations of wonder from Silas.
Lucius asked indifferently, "Are the knights over there your companions?"
So they had been discovered.
Silas found himself rather impressed by the wandering mage's sharp perception. The man was said to be obsessed with hunting monsters and to hold nobles in contempt, yet he never harmed the innocent. Even now, when he could have expressed clear displeasure, he spoke with gentlemanly restraint.
Silas had always believed that a capable man with a few rough edges was preferable to the opposite.
"They are."
"You don't feel like the Quasar Count's people, but I have no intention of following you, so keep that in mind."
Valiet, who had endured as much as he could while the mage forced out something resembling polite speech, growled low once his hidden knights were exposed.
"Listen here, mage. If you learned any manners, don't just leave us hanging."
"Enough. My name is Baroa, and as you guessed, I am indeed a knight."
"From a noble house, no doubt."
'Not entirely wrong.'
Silas gave a wry smile, oddly pleased by the mage's blunt manner of speaking.
After all, a knight from a house without wealth or influence would travel with at most a single squire, a fellow knight, and a horse. He could never roam another lord's territory with a master's escort and part of a knight order in tow.
Still, now that they had come this far, it was time to cast the bait.
"Something like that."
"I should warn you in advance—I have no desire to stay in one place for long. The same was true where I came from, so don't think you can tie me down by any means."
The Quasar Count had apparently come in person, drawn by the wandering mage's skill, yet failed to win him over. Silas measured how much he could offer in the Crown Prince's name before asking, "I gave you my name. Won't you give me yours?"
"Baroa."
"Baroa…?"
The name stirred a distant memory. Silas pondered it until he realized it belonged to the Tower Master before the current one, Neia. Given the imperial family's lack of magical talent, it was impressive he remembered at all.
"…Dawn is breaking. We won't need the campfire much longer. Shall we get up?"
Even after the mage named Baroa issued a clear dismissal, Silas pretended not to notice and pressed on. "You share a name with the former Tower Master! Am I correct?"
"……."
No reply came. Silas took it as a good sign.
"Have you no thought of coming to the Imperial Palace? There are mages who live comfortably under imperial protection, their names merely registered. Of course, she is diligent and devoted, yet her superiors do not trouble her excessively. If you're interested, I'll give you this token. You may visit whenever you wish—ten years from now, twenty years, it makes no difference."
When the Crown Prince lavished praise upon Pay, Lucius felt deeply pleased inside. Yes, this fellow was far better than the arrogant nobles of ancient empires and kingdoms he had once known. The old ways might have been glorious, but if the descendants of ancient blood had improved this much, it counted as progress.
Baroa recalled the Salamander into his sleeve and glanced at the token Silas offered.
"I've seen your face."
"……?"
"I won't be needing that token."
"Does that mean you'll come?"
When Silas asked, Lucius struggled to move his facial muscles in an unfamiliar direction. It would be unwise to underestimate a man who had survived the brutal politics of the imperial court. If he let his guard down and someone discovered that the former Tower Master Baroa and the Tower mage Lucius were the same person, it would become troublesome.
"I'll stop by the Magic Tower eventually. If the chance arises?"
"So you really are the former Tower Master! Perhaps the rumors of elven blood are true—you don't look your age at all."
'Ugh!'
Lucius nearly choked upon hearing Silas's excited words. Pay… had she not wondered several times whether he might be an "elven mage"? What had she said? Something about mixed high elf blood keeping him youthful despite the years?
To hear the same sentiment from someone else was unexpected.
"We should be going. You've said all there is to say."
Valiet, whose patience had finally run out, glared at Lucius and spoke. Though the young Silas might not remember the details of his childhood, Valiet's long experience allowed him to recall the former Tower Master's reputation and the events of that time. The former Tower Master Baroa was not said to be a domineering man. Still, after meeting him in person, Valiet found plenty to dislike. Since nothing had truly offended him yet, he decided a sharp word or two would be acceptable.
"Wait a moment. Still—"
"Then let us meet again later, if the opportunity arises."
"Splendid! In truth, I am the wandering knight Gladis—"
"—not Gladis, but Crown Prince Silas. The knight beside you is a Sword Master; he cannot possibly be the scion of an ordinary house. Am I wrong?"
"Ha."
Silas let out a satisfied sigh while Valiet, now that their identities were exposed, gestured for the waiting knights to approach.
"Then I shall take my leave."
Lucius deliberately waited until the knights drew near in a cloud of dust before vanishing alone with a teleportation spell.
Valiet, who had been suppressing his displeasure, could no longer hold back. "That man is insolent. He knew Your Highness's identity yet continued using casual speech to the very end! Please abandon this idea. It would be better to recruit other mages from the Magic Tower instead…"
"Enough, Valiet. A personality like his may actually make cooperation easier. When we return, I must send word to the Magic Tower and request records on how remarkable the former Tower Master truly was."
"…Understood."
Silas gazed at the spot where Baroa had disappeared, thoroughly satisfied. "We've become more than mere acquaintances. The harvest is good. The Quasar Count is still at the lord's residence, but I have no intention of stopping by. We return at once."
"Yes."
After the still-wigged Silas led the knights away, a small popping sound echoed near the extinguished campfire. Lucius reappeared.
He ground a charred branch beneath his foot and muttered, "Associating with humans is never easy."
If he was going to maintain a double life from now on, he would need to use his head more. Even if troublesome matters kept piling up, he was determined to handle them all.
The sky, already beginning to pale, still held a few lingering stars. This time, he felt he could connect them and sketch Pay's face in an instant.
Pay, I can do anything for you.
But do you know something?
I don't wish for you to feel the same way I do. Because if you were exactly like me, you would suffer far too much. It's enough if you simply like me in moderation. I'll take care of the effort from here on.
He hadn't expected the Crown Prince to come in person, but now that someone existed who could prove the "reappearance of the former Tower Master Baroa," this was sufficient.
His longing raced ahead toward Pay, and soon his body followed, heading for the Magic Tower.
* * *
Preparing a noblewoman's attire and departure took a considerable amount of time. This held true in any era and for any upbringing, and if the lady in question was a duchess, the process could only be longer, never shorter.
Even so, the Duchess of Orleans's preparations were remarkably simple. So different from her usual lavish style that the maids helping her exchanged uneasy glances.
The pins securing her hair were plain silver without a single gem, and the dress had all its lace and brooches removed, its buttons replaced with plain ones. The color alone was a light brown, making the entire ensemble resemble mourning attire.
"My lady…"
"Take it away. This is not the time to wear such things."
After dismissing the jewelry box the maid had brought, the duchess considered whether a spare carriage was available. A duchess under house arrest could not be seen leaving the ducal residence on her own. Therefore, she needed a carriage without the family crest, yet still respectable…
"You may not leave."
Bang.
The cold words came first; the door opened a moment later as Raphael burst in.
How could her precious only son do such a thing! She cried out in shock.
"Raphael!"
"Leave us."
Raphael spoke coldly.
"Uh…"
"Now!"
"Yes…"
The maid fled, unable to endure the tension between mother and son. Only the two of them remained in the duchess's private chamber, staring at each other.
This was overreach, no matter how one looked at it. For a son to drive away his mother's attending maid right in front of her!
The Duchess of Orleans, her chin flushing with embarrassment, scolded him. "What is the meaning of this? Raphael, you must show respect! No matter how much you are my son, there are boundaries between men and women that must be observed. Furthermore, I am the mistress of this house! Will you humiliate your future wife in the same way?"
"Do not leave this place."
"Raphael!"
Raphael's usually gentle blue eyes were filled with nothing but sorrow. "The order to refrain from social activities and remain under house arrest has not been lifted. Why do you insist on disregarding the imperial family's authority? Under normal circumstances, this ducal residence itself would already be surrounded by imperial troops. Is receiving such generous treatment so humiliating that you cannot bear it?"
"I—!"
The Duchess of Orleans faltered. In truth, she had only just managed to change her mind after agonizing over it until that very morning.
She knew better than anyone that Saintess Capia was not someone to be trusted. Yet they had extended countless favors to her. The returns would have been substantial, and abandoning the plan out of mere anxiety felt like too great a waste. More than anything, there was the humiliation she had suffered at the hands of the Duchess of Klein. Since a debt had been incurred, it must be repaid.
She had intended to visit the hideout the Saintess had secretly informed her about, simply to hear what she had to say. Moreover, since the Saintess was soon to declare her formal return to the capital, now was the perfect time to meet without drawing attention.
Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined Raphael would stand in her way!
"You cannot cover every fault with the excuse of acting for the sake of the family."
"Raphael, how could you say such a thing?!"
Raphael wore a rare expression of anger as he confronted his mother. "I am doing this precisely because I care for the family! I can no longer stand by and watch. Mother… where were you planning to go? Tell me."
"Are you interrogating me now? How dare you—!"
The duchess's words were abruptly cut short.
"Did you suddenly fall gravely ill and need to seek a healer yourself? Or were you going to prostrate yourself at His Majesty's feet to beg forgiveness? Unless it is one of those two, leaving is impossible!"
"You!"