Like a Deep Lake
After Tessalos Wolcher died, every lord returned home in his own carriage.
Only Ruri and Ferda remained in the association hall.
"That was magnificent."
Ruri looked up at him and clapped her small hands.
"You made it perfectly clear who holds the upper hand today. Truly impressive. Your political skill has gone far beyond mere art."
She raised both thumbs in a crisp double thumbs-up.
Ferda was nursing a headache from mana exhaustion. He massaged his temple with one finger as he answered.
"It was an unintended result."
"You may not have intended it, but that is what happened. So what do you plan to do now?"
"About what?"
Ruri's face twisted as if the question itself were absurd.
"You just killed a noble. Even with the Grand Duke's authority behind you, this is going to become a clear controversy."
"Is that so?"
Ferda thought back over the scene around him and asked,
"It was rather quiet for something so serious. Is there really a problem?"
"When someone is dancing with a sword right in front of your face, who is stupid enough to point it out?"
"Hmm… is that how it is?"
Everything had gone so smoothly that Ferda had not even noticed he had committed a grave crime. Now that she put it that way, he finally realized he ought to feel some difficulty.
Seeing his expression, Ruri let out a small sigh and continued.
"Moreover, the man you killed was already one of the lords who had sworn full loyalty to Baldrova. This will not be a mere inconvenience."
"Was he clean?"
"Moderately clean, moderately corrupt—an ordinary sort. In the Far East, that kind of ordinary is exactly what makes a perfect loyal retainer."
"So I killed the perfect loyal retainer with my own hands. That will complicate the engagement as well, I take it?"
"Of course."
So that was why.
There was a reason Ruri's eyes were sparkling. Contrary to her expectations, however, Ferda merely scratched his cheek and answered,
"The engagement will proceed as planned. If I show her a reason he had to die, nothing will change, will it?"
"That is true, but… how can you be so certain?"
As far as Ruri knew, Tessalos Wolcher and Ferda had met for the first time today. Yet he spoke as if he knew the man better than Ruri herself, who had been here far longer, or any of the other lords.
Why else?
Because I already know.
If Ferda's memories were correct, the man was still committing a serious crime even now.
"Let us head toward Wolcher's territory."
"You mean to dig up dirt on him?"
"Do not worry. There is a whole pile of it waiting, so she will understand."
"Well, all right. But first…"
Ruri crooked a finger toward Tessalos's corpse. A thread-like distortion sliced cleanly through the dead man's neck. She wrapped the severed head in a cloth.
"Why are you taking that?"
"We will need it. Whatever the real reason, he died because he did something wrong."
Ferda understood and nodded.
"So you intend to put it on a spike and display it, the way one deals with corrupt nobles?"
"Is that not obvious?"
"You just called him the perfect loyal retainer."
"If you would rather cancel the engagement ceremony altogether, feel free. I do not mind."
Ferda closed his mouth. For all her sharp tongue, Ruri was ultimately helping him.
Wolcher territory.
It sat on the farthest front line of the Far East, the land closest to the border armies. At the same time, it was the territory nearest to Baldrova Castle.
"They say the darkest place is under the lamp… so it was right here all along?"
Ferda muttered to himself. In truth he had first met Tessalos Wolcher in the southern desert lands; until then he had never imagined the man might be stationed on the Far Eastern front.
The moment they arrived before the inner keep of Wolcher territory, the steward came rushing out in a fluster. True to his post, however, he recovered his composure and greeted them properly.
"I am honored to welcome such distinguished guests to this humble place. Unfortunately, the master is currently away—"
"Ah, do not worry about that. Your master is already dead."
"…Pardon?"
The old steward stared blankly.
"I said your master is dead. Let us go inside. Do you happen to know where Tessalos Wolcher's laboratory is?"
"W-well… more importantly, what do you mean you killed the master…?"
"Never mind. It was nothing to be proud of, so he would have hidden it. I shall find it myself."
With that one-sided declaration Ferda brushed past the steward and entered the keep. The steward could only watch him go, still uncomprehending.
Ruri, following behind, pressed the wrapped bundle into the steward's hands and pointed toward the sky.
"Hang it somewhere the castle gate can see it clearly."
"What? What is this…?"
Then she too walked past him into the keep.
A moment later the old steward's scream echoed down the corridor.
Tessalos Wolcher.
A mage family driven to the fringes by political troubles. Their hatred and inferiority complex burned nearly as fiercely as Ferda's own once had. Birds of a feather flock together; when Ferda first took on a companion, that companion had been Tessalos.
Tessalos Wolcher hated the Empire.
He was a user of the Red Circle, and for that the magical academia branded him a heretic and shoved him out to the hinterlands. Driven by the single-minded desire to slaughter every noble who had cast him into the Far East, Tessalos had developed his magic.
And what had actually come of it?
He succeeded, yes.
But only succeeded.
I never even saw the finished spell.
Before Tessalos could ever cast it—before he could even properly name it—he had died at Ferda's hands, just as he had today, without ever understanding why.
Come to think of it, why did I kill him back then?
Ferda himself no longer remembered. It was not strange. In those days he had needed something to hate, anything at all. To reach the Sixth Circle faster than anyone, he had been willing to become a monster who would even murder his benefactors.
It does not matter now.
Not the slightest guilt stirred in Ferda's heart. It was not because he deluded himself that he was justice. The only thing that mattered was this: the present Tessalos would unquestionably bring sorrow to Ferda's betrothed.
Anyway, it has to be somewhere in here…
Ferda searched Tessalos's chambers thoroughly. The man had claimed he was pouring his entire life into research. Even while playing the loyal retainer, some sinister scheme had surely been hidden away.
At last Ferda found it.
"Here."
Right under the bed. The tiles beneath it were uneven, and an alien current of air leaked through the gaps.
"He built a secret chamber under the bed."
"Shall we open it?"
"Of course. I will look for the switch. Just a moment…"
Crash!
Before Ferda could finish speaking, something shattered. He turned his head. The bed lay in two pieces, and the hidden door beneath it had been smashed open as well.
Ruri dusted off her dainty little fists and said,
"Why bother looking for a switch?"
"…"
It was a brutally crude method, yet there was no real reason not to use it. Together they descended the stairs that led underground. As the light faded, a faint metallic reek of blood drifted up.
"The blood of monsters."
"You can tell that apart? You have a nose like a dog."
"Do not compare me to such an inferior creature."
"My apologies. Still, I do think your loyalty is rather dog-like."
"…Are you picking a fight?"
Ruri glared, but Ferda did not even react. The stairs ended, and they stepped into a new space.
"This is…"
Both of them instinctively furrowed their brows.
A mage's laboratory is always a chaotic mess of unidentifiable objects stacked into bizarre landscapes. Sometimes one enters already braced for a scene of blood. Even allowing for that, Tessalos Wolcher's laboratory was grotesquely cruel beyond any reasonable measure.
Anyone with a weak stomach would have vomited on the spot, but neither Ruri nor Ferda was greatly shaken.
The smell, though… that still needs adjusting.
Ferda covered his nose with one finger and waited for his sense of smell to adapt. Ruri stared at one of the corpses and scowled.
"So this is what they mean by 'the darkest place is under the lamp.'"
The body of a dead soldier and the carcass of a monster lay side by side on a slab. Their bellies had been slit open; purple entrails and red entrails were stitched together with thread.
"To think the lord we believed most loyal was a demon follower…"
Demon followers.
One hundred fifty years earlier, the Black Dragon Godwin's fall had sparked the Dragon-Demon War, and from that war the demons had been born. Those who still hunted the traces of those demons and sought to use their power were called demon followers.
"You never suspected?"
"I know mages are somewhat shady. Their skill often matches their darkness, so we tolerate it up to a point. But…"
Deep revulsion and a sense of betrayal swam in her silver eyes.
"I never imagined he would indulge in the sick hobby of sewing monster and human guts together."
Yet betrayal only hurts in proportion to how much one has trusted.
"Humans are all like that, I suppose."
As a Dragon Spawn, Ruri held little faith in humans. The feeling passed with a single blink, cleanly erased. What mattered now was what Tessalos had hoped to gain through this grotesque pastime.
Ruri found the manuscripts scattered across the writing desk. Her eyes flicked rapidly across the pages, and at the end she snorted.
"There really are absolute psychopaths in this world."
"Why?"
"He was researching a way to strengthen mana by using the monster factors that monsters possess."
"Is that so?"
"Would you like to see?"
Ferda took the first page she offered and scanned the overview. Only then did the memory return.
Right. He had been trying to create undead that resembled monsters.
Among the black arts, necromancy splits into two extremes: create one powerful monster, or flood the field with countless weak ones. Because the discipline is so polarized between quantity and quality, necromancers are the easiest mages to counter and suppress.
He wanted the durability of monsters combined with the sheer numbers of the undead.
If completed, it would have become the ultimate magic for mass-producing elite imperial troops.
But that was never what interested me.
What had drawn Ferda to the research was the mana cultivation method created to power the spell. Monsters produce mana endlessly.
Though it is defective mana that cannot be used for anything else.
Monsters grow strong by feeding on that overwhelming volume of mana as fodder.
But if that productive capacity could be reproduced and pure mana extracted…
Even those without talent, the moment they learned it, could step into the Fourth Circle and join the ranks of true Mages. Through the fruits of that research Ferda had once reached not only the Sixth Circle but far beyond Archmage, all the way to the Eighth.
He looked down at the overview page again.
If I researched this…
He would gather the materials to reach the Eighth Circle far faster than usual, and piercing the circles themselves would become easier.
There is no doubt.
It was possible. Perhaps several times faster.
While he stared intently at the page, Ruri stared just as intently at him.
He is human. Of course greed would stir.
She chewed over her fundamental contempt for humans. Claiming he did not want to make Baldrova sad was merely a pretext. Ferda had killed Tessalos solely so he could seize this research for himself.
All humans lie.
Foolish creatures who cling to their lies and rejoice and grieve by them. Knowing they lie, there is no need to feel betrayed.
And yet…
Why did this man feel different? Unlike with Tessalos, a heavier pressure tightened in her chest.
Do I actually want to believe in him?
Ruri bit her lip hard. Pride as a Dragon Spawn stung; she shook the thought away and asked him directly.
"So what will you do?"
"About what?"
"This research. You could continue it yourself. Every mage says the same thing, do they not? It would be a waste."
Because it would be a waste, they continue it. A simple excuse that needs no long justification. For a mage who pursues knowledge, it is only natural.
Yet Ferda's answer was different from every other mage's.
"No."
He handed the page back to Ruri.
"Destroy it all."
"All of it…?"
For an instant Ruri's blank expression cracked. She had not expected this at all. She had at least thought he would hesitate, yet his answer was sharp as a blade.
"Did I not tell you? I dislike anything that makes the Grand Duke sad."
"And for that you would erase research like this? It could be the biggest breakthrough the world has ever seen."
"A breakthrough would be nice, yes."
Ferda nodded.
"But if in the end it leads only to my fiancée's sorrow, what meaning does it have?"
His eyes, however, said something more. They were eyes no ordinary mage could possess. Those deep blue eyes reflected a landscape of desireless calm, as still as a deep lake.
"…"
"Why are you staring blankly?"
"I was wondering if you truly mean it."
"I do."
Blue flames flickered at Ruri's fingertips—pure fire formed by converting mana into flame. One toss and the paper would be ash in an instant. She watched the flames, then rolled her eyes up to look at Ferda.
"…Do not go changing your mind later."
"I will not."
As Ferda wished, Ruri burned every scrap of the research. The laboratory, the grotesque corpses used in the experiments—all of it was swallowed by blue fire and reduced to ash.
It burns well.
Ferda watched quietly. If he had invested only a few months, he could have completed the magic himself. He had even helped Tessalos create it once before, and more than anything he had already mastered it in a previous life.
The reason he abandoned it now was simple.
Every magic carries the temperament and emotions of its maker.
And as the saying goes, one who touches pitch is defiled; those temperaments and emotions gradually become the caster's own nature and corrupt him. That is why one must never learn black magic, and why forbidden arts exist.
And that magic is rooted in rage and hatred.
Tessalos had hated the Empire. If Ferda learned the spell, he would inevitably be seized by anger and hatred that were not his own.
Therefore it must be discarded.
Not clinging to petty things, but cherishing the self that exists right now. Twisted desire became ash and scattered into nothing. A heart as clear as a still lake made Ferda smile.
"It really… burns beautifully."
Ruri watched him murmur those words. Her private assessment of Ferda was this:
An incomprehensible psychopath.
And she added one more thing without fail:
And a masochist on top of it.
What kind of combination is that supposed to be? she wondered. The uneasy feeling only deepened, and her face twisted further.