The Burnt Quill

"What's that? You met that man?"

"Yes. He approached me first, actually."

"Damn it all."

Hearing the story from Luden, Basel wrinkled his brow and made his disgust abundantly, unapologetically plain. Who that disgust was aimed at needed no explanation.

"Were you and Darkus well acquainted, then?"

"Tch. 'Well acquainted,' my foot. All it means is we once studied magic under the same tower roof, that's all."

"Which means...?"

"Just so. The man came out of Vivre Magic Tower himself."

Luden's eyes went round at the wholly unexpected answer. This was something he had truly never known.

So it wasn't simply that he hated Vivre Magic Tower?

Recalling how Darkus had reacted when they met, Basel answered curtly, as though he had no wish to dwell on the matter.

"In any case, don't go entangling yourself with that fellow. He's an ambitious, self-absorbed egotist who knows nothing beyond his own hide."

There was clearly some history between the two. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Luden didn't press. Basel seemed unlikely to tell him anyway, and one thing was certain regardless: Darkus had his eye on the old man's research.

Then, as though something had just occurred to him, Basel spoke up.

"Ah, yes. That appraisal you asked for. It's finished."

He fetched something from a shelf and held it out. A glass vial of pink liquid—none other than Romelia.

Luden had earlier asked Basel to analyze the Romelia he had secretly set aside from Hugo's supply. With the old man's deep knowledge of alchemy, he'd figured him more than capable of identifying its components and dangers. His judgment had not been wrong.

Basel clicked his tongue.

"Where in the world did you get your hands on such a demented thing?"

"It's that dangerous?"

"The effects are as I described. Harmless to humans—but any monster with a keen nose that catches so much as a whiff is seized by a violent hunger and turns berserk on the spot. Unless you fancy becoming a monster's dinner while still breathing, I'd advise you never to use it."

"I won't."

The memory of Hugo nearly being swallowed by the Mother Snake drew a quiet laugh out of him.

Then Basel held out a document densely covered in black ink. "In here you'll find a detailed table of its components, with the symptoms all laid out."

The material was meticulously organized, and its contents matched what Luden already knew almost exactly. He had clearly taken care with the request even in the middle of his frantic research.

"Thank you."

"Think nothing of it. More to the point—what do you mean to use that for?"

"I have no particular use in mind."

He was merely going to pass it along.

Luden rose from his seat. From here on, he needed to move fast.

"O-oh, welcome, sir."

Charles, on their second meeting, looked a good deal gaunter than before. The moment he laid eyes on Luden he jolted and sprang up from his seat.

"Hm?"

"I'm terribly sorry, sir! I haven't managed to raise the one million rub yet. Just a little more time, please—"

His manner had changed as well. Setting aside how excessively deferential he'd become, the man kept shooting nervous glances, his face pale with fear.

Then someone came in through the open window.

Thump.

"Found you! So this is where you were, yep!"

"Ugh!"

Charles's face crumpled at Sarah's appearance. For the record, this was the fourth floor. Given her physical abilities, getting in was hardly a challenge—but where on earth had she been until now?

"Sounds like you've been keeping well."

"Heehee. The job you gave me? Going great, yep!"

Sarah was as lively as ever; Charles's complexion, by contrast, only worsened. Luden could roughly guess what had been happening. Apparently even a man who'd long worked the underworld found a black wolf-tribe girl's fists something to fear.

Was she actually the right woman for the job?

From the look of things, betrayal was not a worry he'd need to spare for Charles. As a token of praise, Luden handed Sarah the snacks he'd brought along in his inventory pocket.

"Good work. I have some business to discuss with Charles, so wait outside for me, will you?"

"Got it, yep!"

Eyes sparkling, snacks in hand, Sarah promptly leapt back out the window. As naturally as breathing.

"Haaah..."

Charles exhaled in relief the moment she vanished. He had clearly been put through the wringer, but Luden felt no particular sympathy. He knew exactly what manner of man Charles was. Besides, he'd come today on separate business.

"The million rub still has time on it, so see to that yourself."

"Ah—yes, sir."

"I have questions for you. Answer well, and I'll think later about whether to return your ledger."

"Gah! R-really, sir?"

Of course, "think about it" was all he would do. But a man who'd lost his ledger and spent days at Sarah's mercy couldn't help clutching at hope, even at words he'd normally have doubted.

Well. I'll need to settle how to deal with him before leaving Resen anyway—no loose ends.

Swallowing that thought, Luden came to the point.

"The incident in Resen five years ago. You know it?"

"Yes? Ah—you mean that one. Yes. Of course I know of it, but..."

Five years ago, there had been a catastrophic explosion. With casualties topping a hundred, it had been far too large a disaster for a single resident of Resen to remain ignorant of. The cause: a careless experimental accident at a magic tower. Tower laboratories were meant to be shielded by every manner of protective magic, yet the investigation revealed that not one of those wards had been active in that lab. The tower at fault thus had to answer for it, shouldering the whole of the disgrace. That tower was Basel's Vivre.

Stripped of its name overnight, Vivre Magic Tower collapsed beyond any hope of recovery.

And the tower that rose to seize its place, as if waiting for the chance, was Lunvel.

But this incident held a truth no one knew.

"You were already acquainted with Darkus back then, weren't you?"

"......?!"

"I thought so. Then before the explosion at Vivre Magic Tower, Darkus must have asked something of you."

"How could you possibly—"

Charles was visibly shaken. Never in his wildest imaginings had he expected that question from Luden's mouth.

Could he know?

Impossible. Luden was an outsider with no connection whatsoever to that affair. Only Charles and Darkus knew of it. There was no way Luden could know. And yet... "jumping to conclusions" didn't begin to cover it—the question had dripped with certainty from the very first word.

Shit!

The ledger alone was trouble enough, but if that day's affair ever came to light, it would be far more dangerous still. Because that would mean making an enemy of Lunvel.

An enemy of Lunvel. Having done every manner of dirty work in their name, Charles understood the meaning of those words better than anyone alive.

No. I'd sooner die.

That was the depth of his terror. Reading the hesitation written across him, Luden pressed on.

"Think carefully. You've already cut ties with Lunvel. And you know better than anyone what sort of man Darkus is."

"Kgh..."

"Your ledger's gone, and you botched the job he gave you. Do you truly believe he still sees any use in you?"

And whose fault was that?!

For an instant Charles felt the urge to sew the man's mouth shut—but he had to swallow it. Over the past several days he had drafted plan after plan for revenge behind Luden's back, and every single time, the girl had appeared like a vengeful spirit and beaten him mercilessly until his will broke.

He begged forgiveness—she beat him. He swore it had never happened—she beat him. He'd merely thought about it—beaten. He genuinely hadn't done anything—beaten anyway!

Reason didn't reach her. She was a pure beast. And the man such a beast followed had to be a demon worse still.

God. How did it come to this?

Charles pitied his own plight anew—but a choice had to be made. Cut ties with Lunvel here and now, or suffer horribly at Luden's hands on the spot. Both were wretched options, but if he had to pick whichever held a sliver more hope...

"I truly don't know anything, sir. All I did was obtain what that bastard Darkus asked for and hand it over."

"And that item was?"

"Flame Moth Powder."

Flame Moth Powder was a chemical reagent used in brewing explosive flame bombs. So potent that even a trace amount unleashed tremendous force, it was a dangerous substance under strict state control. Naturally, Charles had obtained it through illegal channels.

"And you never learned where Darkus used it?"

"I-I don't know."

It wasn't a lie, but his voice shook as he said it. He had likely guessed long ago. But no doubt he couldn't bring himself to accept that he was, in effect, an "accomplice" to the incident five years past.

According to the truth the Lunvel insider exposed in the future, the true culprit behind that explosion had been Darkus.

Every piece of the picture fit. Only someone affiliated with Vivre Magic Tower could have swapped the magical reagent for Flame Moth Powder and suspended the protective wards. For Darkus, then a member of Vivre, it would have been simple enough. And on the very day of the incident, he had smuggled out the tower's core research, defected to Lunvel, and started over from there.

The problem was the lack of evidence.

In the future he'd left behind, the insider had proven the truth of that day with evidence gathered over long years. Luden had no way to obtain it. That proof could only be won after years in Lunvel Magic Tower's service, chasing the faintest of lingering clues. It could not be done in a handful of years.

But.

"Well. If there's none, one simply makes it."

"Sir?"

Luden already knew the answer. Crafting the path to it, then, would be no great challenge. Fabricated though it might be—wasn't an expert in precisely this field sitting right in front of him?

"Charles. There's something you're going to do for me."

"......"

That smile bore an uncanny resemblance to Sarah's as she gleefully beat him, and a chill ran down Charles's spine. So that beast and that master were cut from the same cloth.

I knew it. I never should have gotten tangled up with this man.

The regret came far too late.

"Haaah. That stubborn old fool. Holding out to the very end."

Darkus leaned back in his chair and let out an irritation-laced sigh. Recent events had been grinding at his nerves. Basel still refusing to hand over his research. Charles botching everything he touched. And now an outsider by the name of Luden. Come to think of it, all of it had begun the moment that whelp appeared.

Under normal circumstances, he would already have seized Basel's research and what remained of Vivre Magic Tower's legacy under the pretext of the debt. But with Luden stepping in as Basel's patron, the whole affair had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠gone sideways.

Darkus was a careful man by nature. When a variable appeared, rather than moving at once he would watch the situation and strip away anything that might become a threat, one piece at a time. Meeting Luden in person had been for that very reason.

It's that brat. It's that brat that's the snag.

A strange thing, truly. That he, head of Lunvel, should find his nerves standing on end over a single green whelp. And yet, having actually faced the boy, Darkus could not deny the persistent, prickling unease. For all his youth, the boy carried himself like something more than he appeared—but in raw power, Darkus held the overwhelming advantage. He wasn't worth feeling threatened over.

"Hmph. Perhaps I am getting old."

In the end, he chalked it up to a mood. Whatever the truth of it, even the last remnants of Vivre Magic Tower would soon be in his hands ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠regardless.

"Basel, that fool, has no right to possess it."

Basel was, without question, a genius. But prattling on about safety, about ethics, about this and that, the man had never put his treasures to proper use—a pearl necklace draped around an orc's neck, nothing more. The only one who could recognize that value and put it to better use was Darkus himself. In truth, he had used the research stolen from Vivre as his footing to raise Lunvel to its present height. Now he would claim the remaining achievements as well and climb higher still.

"All the more reason to finish this, then. Basel, and Vivre Magic Tower both."

Knock, knock.

Just as he was savoring his solitary monologue, a knock at the door cut through his reverie. Scowling, Darkus bade the visitor enter, and the door swung open to admit his aide.

"What is it?"

"A parcel has arrived, sir."

The aide set a small box atop Darkus's desk.

"From whom?"

"No name was written, sir. But this yellow card was tucked inside."

A blank yellow card meant it came from Charles. Silent for a stretch, and now at last he made contact.

Darkus sent the aide out and opened the parcel.

And then—

CRASH!

The chair toppled backward, but Darkus's eyes never ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠left the parcel. His gaze shook violently. And small wonder—for inside the parcel lay...

"......How is this here?"

A bag of white powder, a quill scorched black as though by fire, and a single letter. With trembling hands, Darkus picked up the letter. Just one line was written upon it.