No Refunds
Ferda climbed to the summit of the Lonely Mountain.
When he had asked Ruri to take him to the peak, he had only one purpose in mind.
He wanted to watch Baldrova fight.
—Kroaaaaaah!
A thunderous roar inverted heaven and earth.
Today she had halted the advance of more than a hundred monsters.
In the past, the mere timing of it would have left him breathless; now he watched with the serene detachment of a man gazing at a distant mountain range.
The liquor’s effect is certain.
His fear of dragons had vanished, and even the aura they unleashed no longer heavily interfered with his body.
While that surprised him, another question rose in its place.
“How do the others endure this? Even inside the castle it can’t be ordinary.”
“There are artifacts for that.”
Ruri drew a ring from within her skirts and held it up.
It was an ordinary silver band, yet characters were inscribed along its inner surface.
Ferda could not read them.
“They track the locations of the castle’s servants and ease their fear of dragons. Up to a hundred retainers can live inside without trouble.”
“Similar to what I drank?”
“Weaker. Fear of dragons still lingers in their hearts.”
“Still, you prepared thoroughly.”
“We prepared far too thoroughly.”
“Hmm…”
Ferda pondered a moment, then turned his head again.
“You said there are a hundred of them?”
“Yes.”
“Then I could have worn one from the beginning, couldn’t I?”
“Yes.”
“So why didn’t you give me one?”
Ruri’s pupils rolled once, lazy and unhurried, and she shrugged.
“You never asked, did you?”
He could feel, vividly, just how much she had despised the Ferda who existed before the betrothal.
She still seems to dislike me, honestly.
But what could be done about the past?
Ferda turned his eyes downward to Baldrova.
What differed from before was that, having finished her work, she did not simply return; she turned her gaze upward.
A pair of horns thrust forward, and another pair rising toward the sky.
Her form, majestic enough to deserve the title of tyrant, stood out with crystalline clarity.
He felt those golden eyes meet his own.
I can feel it.
Ever since he had drained the betrothal liquor, an invisible thread seemed to connect Ferda and Baldrova.
Whenever that sensation came, a smile rose unbidden to his lips.
And Baldrova, fleeing that gaze, returned to her lair.
I’ve troubled her again.
They were betrothed, yet he had never once spoken with her.
Whenever he tried, she only showed signs of avoidance; watching her was the most he could manage.
Social anxiety… is it.
Anyone who saw only the way she tore monsters apart would never believe it; she looked every inch the barbarian.
Yet the first image that rose unbidden in Ferda’s mind was her lips.
What a gift she has for making a man burn with longing.
An oasis rising in the heart of a parched desert.
The faint warmth of a blue flame flickering amid eternal frost.
To be this close and yet able only to watch…
It felt like becoming the sinner condemned to eternal hunger and thirst—an apple forever before his eyes that he could never eat, water forever present that he could never drink.
If only he could face her and speak.
“Still not allowed to talk, is it?”
“Yes. The order is to wait until the time is right.”
“More than a month has already passed.”
“Compared to the years she has lived, it is no longer than the blink of an eye.”
The time of immortals and the time of mortals were different things.
Impatience seized Ferda’s heart.
Waiting until she steadies herself is a husband’s duty as well, I suppose.
He resolved to be patient.
He still had plenty of years left to live, after all.
Ruri, who had been watching everything, spoke while looking elsewhere.
“Lord Ferda.”
“What is it?”
“A guest has arrived.”
Far below, in a region Ferda’s eyes could not reach, something long and linear stood before the castle—barely visible.
Ruri, acting as his eyes, reported:
“It appears Lord Bernel Marquis has arrived.”
Bernel Marquis.
When they reunited, he looked even more of a wreck than before.
His debts had been settled and the troublesome gangs no longer harassed him, yet that had not improved his household one bit.
“Well, I’ve been thinking…”
“Just give me the conclusion.”
Ferda cut him off roughly.
“I’m in no temper for roundabout talk right now.”
It was partly to leave Bernel Marquis no room for his usual vacillation, and partly because the Red Circle inside Ferda’s dantian was spinning fiercely.
He did not want to waste that rising heat on Bernel.
“As you said… I’ve come to think making weapons is the right course.”
“You’ve bent your convictions?”
“I haven’t bent them. I simply realized that making weapons, as you put it, is also a way to preserve peace. I was only afraid of the condemnation.”
Bernel Marquis looked down at the letter of appointment in his hands.
“I will make weapons. To clear out the monsters of the far east. But I hope those weapons will never be used in wars between humans. At least not while I am still alive.”
“I can’t promise you that.”
Instead of lying, Ferda told him the truth.
“Is… that so?”
Bernel did not look especially disappointed.
He might have been a frog in a well, yet the place he lived was still a society; he understood how the world worked.
Weapon development flipped the balance of war depending on who pulled ahead first.
In such an arena, magic engineering would become a revolutionary technology and only accelerate.
“There’s no need to be so chained by guilt. Think of it this way. If you forge a sword, what do you use to stop it?”
“If you forge a sword… you make a shield and armor to stop it.”
“And then someone forges a sword that pierces even that armor and shield. Do you then stand frozen in despair and simply watch the destruction unfold?”
Only then did Bernel understand.
“No. You make better armor and better shields.”
“You craft weapons, but at the same time you craft shields. If you wish to prevent war, you must keep developing. If you stop…”
“The other side will take a step ahead.”
It was the start of a race that never ended.
A reality Bernel had never wanted to imagine took shape before him.
A faint fragrance still lingered in his nostrils.
Coffee and black tea, and ink.
He missed Escoleia so badly it hurt.
There, at least, a single rented room had been his entire world.
But I can’t go back.
Magic engineering was the dream he absolutely intended to realize.
“Of course, once we have breathing room, I’ll permit research for use in other fields as well. But the absolute priority is a tool capable of pushing back the eastern front. Develop that first, and I won’t meddle in anything else.”
“Ah—understood.”
“I believe we’ve covered that much… so.”
Ferda began speaking in earnest about Bernel’s research.
“Tell me first what you need to start that research.”
“More than tools, I need monster corpses.”
“Monster corpses?”
“I have to observe them first. Tools come after the specimens.”
Bernel scratched his head with an embarrassed laugh.
“Truthfully, if they were alive, progress would be much faster… but capturing monsters alive isn’t exactly easy, haha!”
Ferda, who had been listening quietly, nodded.
“Understood. So I just need to capture them alive?”
“Yes, capture them ali— wait… hang on. You’re going to capture them?”
Bernel asked in shock.
“If it raises the progress rate, of course. We still have a long road ahead; shouldn’t the first step be a large one?”
“It’ll be quite difficult… all right. Thank you, truly. Your… Highness.”
“Call me Regent. That is the official title now. And you need not thank me.”
Ferda rose from his seat and pulled on his coat.
“We leave within three days. Prepare yourself.”
“What? Leave for where?”
“You’re the one who said it, and now you ask? We’re going to capture them, of course.”
“W-we are??”
Bernel’s eyes flew wide open.
His pupils threatened to shrink to pinpricks.
“Did you intend to sit here quietly and wait for someone to bring them back alive?”
“Uh… most people would…?”
“A ridiculous joke. How can I stand by and watch dozens die for the sake of one scholar’s greed? At times like this, one must move personally.”
Ferda clapped Bernel lightly on the shoulder.
“Isn’t it the scholars’ creed that truth sets humanity free?”
“Th-that is true, but…”
“You can’t sit still hoping truth will simply fall into your mouth. Move that body of yours a little.”
“Urrgh…”
“Prepare thoroughly in the meantime. You’ll need to be in peak condition.”
Bernel’s face turned deathly pale.
I-I never should have come!
It was a case of no refunds.
Ferda and Bernel rode out on horseback.
Following the rough trail, they soon spotted a group of men waiting at a bend in the road.
Thirty subordinates stood in perfect formation; at their head a man in half-plate armor sat astride his own mount.
He was their guide, waiting for Ferda.
Arwen dismounted and offered a respectful bow.
“I present myself before the Consort of Grand Duke Baldrova, Regent Ferda Valdrova. I am Arwen. By order of Count Consiler, I have come to serve you.”
“A pleasure. Did you receive the orders correctly?”
“I did. I was told you are hunting monsters.”
Ferda corrected him.
“Not hunting—capturing. We are going to capture monsters alive.”
“My apologies. It seems whoever read the official dispatch misread it.”
In truth no one had misread it.
The order had simply been so absurd that Arwen had corrected it himself and asked again.
“No matter. Where is the monster located?”
Arwen turned and pointed.
“Reports say the distinctive aura of a monster is emanating from that direction.”
“Numbers?”
“Considering the recent spread of their range, only one.”
“Good. That should make capture easier.”
“About that…”
Arwen continued in a grave tone.
“Its estimated size is larger than a gray bear. Even for us, killing it would be difficult.”
Meaning capture would be harder still.
Of course the argument carried no weight with Ferda.
“The larger the better. We must capture it no matter what.”
He clapped Bernel’s shoulder again.
“This should prove useful for your research.”
“Haha… y-yes, it should.”
Bernel laughed awkwardly while screaming inside.
I told you not to say that!!
His gaze slid toward the soldiers.
Every resentful eye in the company was now fixed on him.
So that bastard is the culprit.
Killing monsters is hard enough—now we have to capture one alive?
If anyone dies trying to take it, I’ll haunt your dreams until the day you drop.
Those curses seemed to echo chaotically inside Bernel’s skull.
“Hahaha…”
Bernel laughed.
He had to laugh while he still could.
Arwen took the lead and they began to move.
The horses, of course, had to be left behind.
They could become a stimulus that agitated the monster.
“How far have you progressed in magic?”
Walking behind Arwen, Ferda asked Bernel.
Bernel answered.
“Third Circle is my limit.”
“Blue Circle?”
“Yes. Naturally any mage would form a Blue Circle… unless you are Red Circle?”
“I am.”
Bernel clapped a hand over his own mouth.
Damn this loose tongue of his.
“Ah—forgive me! I spoke without thinking…”
“It doesn’t matter. Third Circle, you said?”
The title for a Third Circle was Magic Walker.
Many mages never broke through the wall to Fourth Circle and therefore disliked the term.
Especially when a Fourth Circle Mage or higher used the words “Magic Walker,” it amounted to a declaration of mortal enmity.
“Can you use Magic Shot?”
“Yes. I can form the spheres and launch them, though the effective range is—”
“Forming them is enough. How many at once?”
“Uh… twelve.”
“And if you make them large?”
“Four if I make them large.”
The average Third Circle could fire fifteen mana shots.
“Quite a bit lower than a standard Third Circle.”
“Haha… true enough.”
It was a painful joke as well as a funny one.
Bernel’s first dream had been to become a mage.
In the end, the only thing I could do was study, not magic.
And even that study had been ruined by absurd, groundless dreams.
“Even that will be enough. All you need to do is support me properly.”
“S-support?”
“I will handle everything myself. You need only follow my instructions and perform simple tasks. Understood?”
“S-support, then. How exactly…?”
“I’ll keep it simple. Simple enough for a three-year-old to understand, so don’t worry.”
Bernel still had no idea what was planned.
Just in case, he asked.
“Forgive me, Regent, but what Circle are you?”
“Me? Second Circle.”
“S-Second Circle?”
“Why? Surprised that I’m below you?”
“Well, that is surprising, but that isn’t quite what I meant…”
Bernel could not comprehend it.
The mana I saw was just… that?
He had assumed Ferda had simply been concealing his power all this time.
Yet he was only a Second Circle.
What in the world can a Second Circle even do…?
Ferda’s plan remained utterly opaque.
Just then Arwen raised a hand.
“I’ve caught its presence.”
“Have you? Well done. I’ll call you just before the capture. Stand by.”
“Pardon?”
Arwen wondered if he had misheard and asked again.
Ferda frowned.
“Find whoever read that dispatch and give them a proper scolding. I said I needed soldiers only for guidance and assistance with the capture. Do you wish to perform the capture yourselves?”
“Shouldn’t we be the ones to do it? Naturally…”
“A knight’s spirit overflowing with resolve—admirable.”
Ferda patted Arwen’s shoulder as he walked past.
“Do not hold your life so lightly. You are Count Consiler’s knight, and further, a precious knight of the Grand Duchy.”
Ferda pulled on the leather gloves he had kept in his pocket.
“Let us go. When I give the signal, be ready to capture it at once. Bernel.”
“Y-yes, sir!”
Ferda clasped his hands behind his back and strolled forward at a leisurely pace.
His bearing was so lofty that no one would have believed he was walking into a killing ground.
Aaaagh, I’m going to die, I’m dying!
To Bernel, however, he was nothing more and nothing less than a reaper leading him to death.
After walking roughly ten minutes into the deep forest, Ferda and Bernel finally found the reported monster.
A corruption type.
Not a grotesque creature that arose naturally, but a monster that overlaid itself upon an animal.
It had once been a bear; now it was so twisted that one could only say it had once been a bear.
A living being whose very existence defied reason.
That was the impression its appearance gave.
“Urgh…”
“Don’t vomit. If it notices us, we’ll be in trouble.”
“Mmph, mmph…”
Bernel nodded repeatedly. Ferda fixed his eyes on the target.
“Now float mana shots on your fingertips.”
“Yes.”
Having swallowed his nausea, Bernel formed pure spheres of mana as instructed.
“And on my signal, toss them to me one by one—gently.”
“What?”
Not at the bear, but at the Regent?
“Toward you, Regent?”
“Yes. Throw.”
Bernel shut his eyes tight and flung one as ordered.
“Huh?”
In that instant, something astonishing occurred.