The Swallow Trap
Bernel had heard the words “my way” often enough.
That was why, even within the narrow confines of the academy, he had never managed to make a single friend, sliding from prodigy all the way down to the brink of failing out.
Yet even a man like Bernel—who lived so thoroughly on his own terms—felt powerless before this man.
An overwhelming aura…
Those eyes looked as if they gazed into the deepest abyss. Yet they were not empty; within them he could also sense affection directed toward Baldrova.
A man who would do anything for her—truly anything.
Faced with a situation that felt as though it might cost him his life, Bernel opened his mouth.
“I-I don’t really understand. I hardly think something like that would shake my convictions…”
But that was one matter, and this was another. Even after hearing such a threat, Bernel had no desire to reverse his heart on the spot.
Aaaaah! Am I about to die?!
Bernel squeezed his eyes shut and let his imagination run wild.
Would the man twist his fingers?
Or thrash him like a dog on the hottest day of summer, the way loan sharks did?
Ferda’s hand settled on Bernel’s shoulder.
“I understand.”
Ferda gave his shoulder a light pat.
Bernel, limbs still intact, snapped his eyes open and asked,
“Wh-what? Pardon?”
“I said I understand, did I not?”
“……That’s it? That’s all?”
“Yes. I believe this is enough for today. I never intended to persuade you in a single afternoon.”
“Uh… r-right… I see…?”
Ferda held out his hand to Ruri, and she drew a scroll from the wide folds of her skirt.
“Take this.”
“What is it?”
“A letter of appointment.”
“A… letter of appointment?”
“It formally appoints you as the chief researcher of Baldrova Castle. The conditions are exactly as I stated. The only thing that changes is how you choose to see it.”
Ferda rose from his seat and turned to leave.
“Think it over at your leisure. Once you’ve decided, come to the Grand Duchy whenever you wish. Let’s go.”
“Yes.”
Ferda and Ruri stepped out the door.
They left cleanly, without lingering or clinging. The appointment letter he had left behind rolled across the floor and came to rest at Bernel’s feet.
Alone, Bernel could do nothing but stare down at it endlessly.
“That man Bernel—can we truly trust him?”
Inside the carriage, Ruri asked from the seat opposite. In her right hand she held a skewer of fruit preserved in honey; in her left, about five cups waited for execution inside her mouth.
Ferda nodded.
“We can trust him.”
“Idealists like that drag their stubbornness all the way into the grave.”
“He will create it.”
“How can you be so certain?”
“They say those who desire peace must always prepare for war.”
“Who said that?”
Who else?
That man did.
The Bernel Marquis of the future Ferda had seen had spoken those very words. Only far too late had he realized how hypocritical his act as a fanatical pacifist had been.
“Assuming we recruit him… where do you intend to go next?”
Ferda already had the next destination fixed in mind.
“We go to Halim.”
“Halim… isn’t that the city of pleasure in the south?”
Ruri’s expression soured even more than usual. The looks she normally received were bad enough; now they would be no better than those cast at an insect. That city was, after all, a holy land of debauchery and amusement.
“If we’re only passing through, choose another city.”
“No. That is our destination. The person I seek is there.”
“In a pleasure district?”
“He will be there without fail.”
“You’re certain there’s no personal motive mixed in?”
“None.”
Ruri narrowed her eyes at Ferda. Even she could feel that there was not a single grain of falsehood in his words. That only made it more suspicious.
How could a human live so honestly?
“So who are we going to find?”
“Jed Swallow.”
One of the names written on the list Ruri held.
“What sort of human is this one?”
“A member of the Swallow Tribe.”
“……The Swallow Tribe?”
“Yes.”
A brief silence followed. Ruri double-checked whether what she was thinking was correct, then asked again.
“……You mean those scoundrels who seduce noblewomen and wealthy ladies and swindle them?”
“And a gambler.”
“…….”
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
The further the conversation went, the more Ruri’s expression rotted. A dark aura began to pour from her.
Neeeigh!
“Wh-what? What’s gotten into the horses?”
Even the innocent horses startled. Their sudden thrashing threatened to make the road ahead far rougher.
Watching this, Ferda finished what he had left unsaid.
“And he is of the Red-Eyed Tribe.”
The aura Ruri had been radiating vanished at once. The emotion that crossed her face was closer to astonishment.
“The Red-Eyed Tribe… you mean the bloodline I am thinking of?”
“I do.”
“I heard they perished in the upheaval.”
“Yes. That is the information known to the public.”
The public. Ruri knew this was not a level of matter that could be lightly dismissed with a word like “public.” If any sign of the Red-Eyed Tribe’s survival had appeared, a report would have reached her immediately. She would have known.
“How do you know something like that?”
Ruri asked outright.
“I simply know.”
He sidestepped any details. She wanted to dig deeper, but she had no further grounds to press him.
A member of the Swallow Tribe and a gambler… yet of the Red-Eyed Tribe.
It was a truly delicate balance. Compared to Bernel Marquis, this man was a far worse human being—and at the same time possessed far greater ability.
Should I oppose this, or support it?
Standing at a crossroads, Ruri fretted and fretted. She chewed noisily on the honeyed preserves so her brain would not die, spinning her thoughts even more vigorously.
Ferda decided to give her a little help so she could choose more easily.
“They say the southern regions sell a great many sweet desserts.”
“Then let us go, for now.”
The south was a region hot the entire year. Under the blazing sun the earth dried out, and if one traveled to the extreme south, a scorching desert unfolded where not a single blade of grass or drop of water existed.
Halim was a pleasure city built to capitalize on that southern character. The days were hot, but the nights were cool, so the nightlife thrived, drawing many nobles and the wealthy.
Where Escoleia had reeked of coffee and black tea, here the thick scent of sweet sugar hung in the air. Ferda’s head ached from it, but Ruri’s nose was delighted all day long.
The place Ferda headed for was a casino.
Ruri stared blankly at the chips Ferda had exchanged for them—every last bit of the fortune he had brought.
“You said there was no personal motive.”
“There isn’t.”
“Truly none?”
“Talking about it is only tiring my mouth. Just pull that cart and follow me.”
Under Ruri’s pointed glare, Ferda walked silently through the casino. Women in loose attire and people laughing as they pursued carnal pleasure—he passed solemnly among those who, for a brief moment, forgot reality and lived inside a utopia bought with money.
Among them, one young man stood out.
Amid the sticky, lustful aura, a youth glittered. Light brown hair, black eyes. Tall and well-built, slim yet never fragile-looking. People clung to him. When he laughed, they laughed; when he looked pained, they shared his pain. He dominated the crowd.
Jed Swallow.
With outstanding eloquence and looks, he won the favor of many nobles. He was so charming that his victims never even realized they were being swindled.
Well, he got too greedy in the end and was caught, but…
Even so, it had not been a problem. They said a cunning rabbit digs three burrows. Swallow, however, dug three more burrows inside each of those three, slipping free of every crisis.
He even escaped Shark Island, which was said to be impossible to leave, and the ice prison of the far north.
He was a great thief in name and fact—a man for whom nothing was impossible.
Of course, all of that happened only because no one knew he was of the Red-Eyed Tribe.
Those who inherited the blood of the Red-Eyed Tribe were marked by crimson eyes, and they possessed a peculiar ability: the power to scatter the mana lingering in objects or in the air. To mages, the Red-Eyed Tribe were natural predators.
The eyes of the man Ferda now watched were a deep black—ordinary human eyes. No one would think him of the Red-Eyed Tribe.
Even if someone discovered it…
That man would still be confident he would never be caught. He had the skill for it.
He is talent I absolutely need.
Hands clasped behind his back, Ferda quietly walked over and took a seat. At the appearance of a stranger, Jed offered a cheerfully smooth greeting first.
“Well now, a new friend has arrived. A pleasure to meet you. I’m Jed.”
“A pleasure. I am Ferda.”
“You’d do well to watch yourself around these people. Every last one of them is only thinking of stripping you bare like vultures over a corpse, you know?”
“Haha! I can play a bit of poker myself!”
“You lost forty gold coins and you’re still talking like that?!”
The atmosphere was lively. Not a single one among them had properly won any money. Making people laugh without winning a thing was truly remarkable.
His words and aura that dominate the audience…
To Ferda, however, it looked only like a thick mask of pretense.
“Have you played much poker?”
“I know the rankings roughly.”
“Well, you can learn slowly. Isn’t that right?”
“Where in the world does a master start without being a beginner first? Heh heh!”
“That’s right—I first learned here today myself. I’m just starting to get the hang of it!”
Ferda had no interest in those who proudly advertised themselves as easy marks.
“Let’s give it a try.”
“Let’s do that. What’s the point of just standing around talking here?”
The game began.
Ferda won a little at a time. One might have thought beginner’s luck was at work at the gambling table, but Ferda thought otherwise. This was the process by which Jed was reeling him in.
He scatters the bait well.
The man had excellent hand skill. Even Ferda, who considered himself sharp-eyed, could not tell exactly where he was being deceived—that was how polished the technique was. Ferda played along. He simply made it quietly clear that he would not let himself be slowly bled dry, and in doing so drew Jed in instead.
“Hmm, we should wrap up the game soon, don’t you think? Quite a bit of time has passed.”
Jed said as much.
“Mm? Has it?”
“If you say so.”
“Let’s make the last hand a hot one. Haha!”
Jed dealt the cards, and the final game began.
“All right, let’s bet. One hundred!”
“Two hundred gold!”
“You’re bold! All right, I call two hundred and raise to four hundred!”
Jed’s turn ended and the turn came to Ferda.
“All in.”
He pushed every remaining chip into the center. Even at a glance their value exceeded two thousand gold coins. The hall stirred.
“The fellow who was betting in dribs and drabs suddenly goes all in?”
“Isn’t that a bit much just because it’s the last hand?”
Ferda laced his fingers, rested his hands on the table, and answered once more.
“All in.”
The middle-aged men fiddling with their cards groaned, then folded.
“There’s always tomorrow’s game. I fold.”
“I fold too.”
It came around again to Jed.
“What confidence makes you bet like that?”
He asked with a smiling squint of his eyes.
Ferda glanced down at him and said,
“Don’t worry. I am going to win this game.”
“I don’t see the reason for such confidence.”
“Because you will fold that hand yourself.”
Jed threw himself back against the chair and chuckled.
“Why do you think I would fold?”
“To be honest, I have no desire to lose money. There’s a little kid who seems to think I enjoy gambling, you see.”
“So you have to lose money to look good in front of a kid? That’s a bit much. Then shouldn’t you have stayed away from this table in the first place?”
Jed snorted a laugh. He took it for a gambler’s bluff.
“It isn’t only that.”
“Hm?”
“I know what you want.”
“What I want? What is it I want? I’ve got pretty women, drink, and money right here.”
He pulled the woman beside him close; she giggled happily. She was without a doubt some nobleman’s wife from the provinces.
Ferda spoke to him.
“Among all those many women, there is no woman named Emilia.”
A crack ran through the smooth mask. A faint tremor appeared in the hand holding the cards; the corner of his mouth twitched. It lasted only an instant, yet everyone could feel the war of nerves that had just taken place.
But Jed was a seasoned gambler.
“……I call.”
He did not fold. He pushed his own chips in. He would not let a sure win slip away.
“Straight flush. And you?”
Ferda revealed his hand.
“King high.”
“King high!”
“He bluffed with a hand that doesn’t even make a ranking?!”
The middle-aged men gaped and shouted in outrage. The winner was Jed. Having lost every coin, Ferda rose from his seat without lingering regret.
“A moment, my lord.”
Just as he was about to dust himself off and leave, Jed called him back.
“Since I’ve cleaned you out of all your money, how about a consolatory drink at least? You look old enough to drink.”
A smile still sat on his face. But the mask was not a pleasant one.
“I’ll buy.”
Murderous intent seeped from that smile.
“Very well.”
Everything was proceeding exactly as Ferda had intended.
A casino overflowing with laughter and joy. A land that had forgotten time beneath an eternal sun, lost in pleasure.
Ferda and Jed turned their backs on that place and walked together toward the lodging. The moment they left the casino and entered the hotel corridor—
“Who the hell are you?”
The voice that had brimmed with laughter now cut down like a blade. Ferda obediently followed his lead. In truth, even if he had wanted to speak first, he had nothing he particularly wished to say.
“You know about me, don’t you?”
“That isn’t important.”
“True. It doesn’t matter at this stage. Let’s skip the boring introductions.”
Jed drew something he had kept hidden in his clothes. A dagger.
“Tell me why you mentioned that name.”
Jed’s eyes flushed a vivid red. Those were the very eyes of the Red-Eyed Tribe—the ones called mage killers.
Any magic circle that meets those eyes is completely nullified.
The appearance of a people known as mage killers would normally make ordinary mages tremble in terror. Ferda, however, had no reason to do so.
“Jed Swallow. If you do not want your true identity exposed to the entire world, put those eyes away.”
“You’re with those bastards too, aren’t you?! Aren’t you?!”
“I came to have a rational conversation.”
“What did you do to my sister, you son of a bitch?!”
The man who had worn a mask of laughter now showed the bare face of rage. Even Ferda was seeing that expression for the first time.
“Do not show me any more killing intent.”
Ferda warned him quietly.
“My maid is not particularly loyal to me. Even so, if I am in danger, she will kill you without the slightest hesitation.”
The warning was purely for Jed’s sake.
“I wish to speak with you. So put away the killing intent.”