LP 2.9 Mages of the Neutral Zone

“The procession of Gykrux mages has crossed the tributary of the Elga River.”

A middle-aged man wearing the insignia of the Royal Household on his collar whispered into Lucian’s ear, covering his mouth with his hand. True to the typical manner of those from that department, he barely moved his lips when speaking.

“Hmm.”

Lucian responded with an indifferent hum. At the same time, a valet from the wardrobe draped a dark blue cloak over Lucian’s shoulders and fastened it with a fibula. Engraved on the circular fibula was the national emblem of Izelant—a crown intertwined with three swords—instead of the usual stag antler crest of Callot he typically used.

“And…”

The Royal Household official lowered his voice again.

“It appears the Tower Lord is coming in person.”

Even Lucian frowned slightly at that.

“Father will be displeased. Tell him I’ll be there shortly.”

Next, rings found their places on his long fingers. The Royal Household official bowed and withdrew.

The wardrobe’s tasks concluded with fastening a white scabbard decorated with gold fittings to his belt and draping the heavy Liberty Collar, made of strung blue gemstones, over his shoulders.

Regardless of personal preference, the court often required occasions for adornment. In any case, he enjoyed the great advantage that, thanks to his innate height, build, and distinct features, he never looked overly burdened no matter how much he was embellished.

So, the old king probably sought him out eagerly for every such occasion. Lucian sneered inwardly.

Adjusting his sleeves before the mirror, Lucian suddenly gauged the time.

Could he make a quick stop by the office? Let Father wait a bit. It wasn’t that there was anything urgent or necessary…

He recalled someone sitting in the office with a foolish expression.

Actually, he doesn’t really look foolish. His face is just… built that way, so when he keeps his mouth shut and maintains a blank expression, to the unknowing eye, he appears deeply lost in profound thought.

But try making him speak a few times, and you’ll realize that’s not the case at all. From what Lucian had seen, his mind was mostly occupied by geese frolicking about. Meaning he was thinking utterly useless thoughts.

However…

Lady Christie, who had managed the wardrobe since his mother’s time in Callot, was astonishingly good at selecting clothes, and as a result, his current appearance was quite passable even to a discerning eye.

He didn’t particularly like distractions, but just once… He didn’t often have occasions to dress up this much. Didn’t that Mage, despite pretending otherwise, secretly like flashy and shiny things? He’d even stare blankly at sunlight reflecting off a glass bowl…

“Your Highness, the Royal Household…”

A valet approached and bowed. Lucian clicked his tongue. Seeing them hurry him, it seemed difficult to stall for more time.

Come to think of it, thoughts of the Mage brought something else to mind. It had been on his mind for quite a while. Although he’d had various reservations, it seemed he should probably put it into action.

“…Prepare one gray robe.”

Lucian whispered softly toward Lady Christie, who was finishing the adjustments to the hem of his cloak beside him. The middle-aged woman with a sharp impression looked up with an expression of having heard something out of the blue.

“Gray? That’s not a color that suits Your Highness very well.”

“It’s not for me to wear.”

Lucian waved a hand dismissively.

“About this tall… one with a hood. Any color is fine as long as it’s reasonably inconspicuous.”

“……”

“He’s on the thin side, so don’t use fabric that’s too heavy. Just put a weight in the tip of the hood so it doesn’t blow off in the wind.”

It was an odd and meticulous request. But Lady Christie was someone who had seen all sorts of things in her lifetime of tending to the wardrobe of a lord’s household, so she responded professionally to any request.

“You’re looking for all sorts of peculiar things. I’ll do my best to procure it.”

“As soon as possible.”

Patting the shoulder of the vassal who had never once disappointed him a couple of times as if in encouragement, Lucian went out. In the wake of his passing garments, the rare, heavy scent of musk and leather settled.

The court was in disarray.

The party had grown considerably in size, now filled with the advisory staff and escort knights who had taken Mylotte’s vacant place, along with the addition of Ostbrahe, the captain of the guard, and his contingent of knights who had joined along the way. The captain lowered his voice to a whisper.

“The Tower Lord is said to be coming in person.”

Everyone was chattering about the same issue. This was likely the cause of the unusually restless atmosphere. Lucian pretended to be hearing it for the first time and offered a perfunctory smile.

“Is that so? That’s quite unusual.”

“Should we reinforce the guard?”

“No need to go that far. Proceed as usual. I will also station my own knights in the audience chamber.”

Mage, Mage, Mage… The word echoed from all directions as they crossed the palace grounds.

It was not a favorable atmosphere in many ways.

A horn sounded from the direction of Ostbrahe’s southern gate. Lucian’s expression hardened briefly, and he quickened his pace.

When they arrived before the audience chamber, the doors opened silently. This was partly because he was already effectively acting as regent, and partly because the aged king was easily startled by even small noises.

The king was already seated on the throne in the audience chamber. The King’s Mage was nowhere to be seen. Although he had been with the king for decades, such occasions still seemed to make him uncomfortable.

Lucian strode directly across the vast hall and ascended the steps. He knelt on one knee beside the throne and looked up at the king, who extended a hand toward him.

“Lucian.”

The king’s voice was hoarse and raspy. In his youth, he was said to have been quite large and imposing, but in his rapidly aged and frail body, not a trace of that past glory remained. His posture was stooped, his frame gaunt, and his hair, now completely white, was sparse.

The king’s aging and decline had accelerated dramatically over the past few years. While one could not say his current age was young, even though he was not yet seventy, he looked significantly older than his years.

“Lucian, my son.”

“Your Majesty.”

“Why are you so late?”

The king’s attitude toward his fifth child, born from an extramarital affair, was quite peculiar. The king clearly showed him affection and relied on him, yet it was different from how he treated his eldest son.

“You haven’t been showing your face even at the evening banquets lately. No matter how busy you are, this is too much. It’s disappointing.”

It often felt less like a father addressing his son and more like a childish whining to a lover. Some claimed the king saw in his son the shadow of a woman he once loved, but everyone agreed that the king’s mind had grown clouded.

Of course, Lucian didn’t particularly care.

“My apologies, Your Majesty. Shall I visit you separately for luncheon next time?”

After all, he was rather adept at such things. Stringing together empty words, feigning affection, placating and beguiling people.

“Never mind. You have much to do… Have tea with me later. You must have at least five cups. But even that will have to wait until those damned Mages leave the castle.”

The king grumbled, adding a curse. His trembling, wrinkled hand intertwined with the long, smooth one.

“That mad Tower Lord… She neither ages nor dies. She’s devouring people inside that monstrous tower. She’s surely coming this time to drain my life as well. What should I do?”

It was said the king had suffered another seizure a few days prior. But the seizures, recurring for years now, were no longer major news. The king was slowly suffering and dying from an unknown illness.

And all three of his ‘most reliable’ children were merely waiting for his last breath to cease.

“I am here, so it will be alright, Your Majesty.”

One of those very three children, who possessed in his own body the king’s lost, most brilliant youth and health, smiled and soothed the king.

---

The Mages arrived less than half an hour later.

Gaikrux was the collective residential area for Mages within the territory of Izelant. However, friction had often arisen since they began claiming it as a territory independent of Izelant.

Of course, friction wasn’t confined to that alone. Why had the Mages begun living together in the first place?

As the Age of Myths was drawing to a close, around the very time the Kingdom of Asilla unified western Callot and southern Seodin to change its name to Izelant, there was a large-scale extermination policy against the Non-Human Races.

From the perspective of the human kingdoms, it was an attempt to stamp out in advance those with powers they could not control, but for those on the receiving end, it was nothing but one-sided slaughter.

Humans had always been greater in number, and the Mages living among humans, despite having power, were helplessly victimized. The mindset required for many villagers to band together to kill the single Mage in their village was entirely different from that required for a lone Mage to slaughter all the villagers trying to kill them.

This slaughter became the pretext for the Kingdom of Graphen’s invasion of Izelant, and the war dragged on for a full twenty years.

It was finally brought to a truce when the Mages, who wished neither to cooperate with Izelant nor to defect to Graphen, declared neutrality and stubbornly forced an end to the fighting.

The Gaiker Swamplands granted to the Mages were neither spacious nor suitable for human habitation, but they built a tall, pointed tower in its very center and made it so that no one who was not a Mage could cross the swamp. Though outwardly grotesque, its interior was said to be more beautiful and pleasant than anywhere in the human world, so much so that once you entered, you wouldn’t think of leaving.

The Mages established their own order and lived under a chosen leader. That leader had changed twice since the Gaikrux Tower was erected. The third Tower Lord who had ascended to the position in this way had been holding the seat for quite some time.

“The party of the Gaikrux Tower Lord has arrived.”

When the gatekeeper announced the Mages’ arrival, the King’s shoulders jerked. Quietly pressing them down, Lucian stared straight ahead.

People in bright red robes, wearing hats pulled low, walked in single file. True to their reputation as obsessive-compulsives who wore only white inside the tower, they all donned that same red robe when venturing outside. Some said it was a protest against the long-ago slaughter, while others argued it was simply due to the Mages’ twisted aesthetic sense.

Either way, Lucian didn’t particularly care.

He merely thought that such a red color wouldn’t suit the Mage in his own office.

An inconspicuous gray would be a hundred times better than that. Or perhaps a deep brown to match her hair color. Or, since her eyes are green… but green matching her eyes might be too flashy. Lower the saturation a bit more…

In any case, though visually striking, the Mage party itself was not large. Two by two, fifteen rows. And their master standing before them.

There was likely no one present unaware that thirty-one Mages were more than enough to raze Ostrahe Castle without a trace.

“Long time no see, King of Humans.”

The Mage at the forefront spoke as she removed her hat. Silver hair cascaded down to her shoulders. Such short hair was rarely seen on Izelant women, giving an alien impression.

To begin with, her face was one that made it difficult to guess her age. Of course, no one knew her true age. People said she had looked like that even when the King was a teenage boy.

“And it’s been a long time since I’ve seen the fifth child as well. Have you been well?”

Black eyes turned toward Lucian. He could read a vague disgust and hostility within those pupils, but her voice, at least, was as cheerful as ever.

“Welcome to Ostrahe Castle, Gaikrux Tower Lord.”

Answering in an equally gentle voice on behalf of the King, who was only breathing heavily, Lucian replied.

---

For there is a path within the book.

Kosha was engraving that adage into his bones. Indeed, there was not a single thing wrong with the old saying.

Lucian had kindly cleared one side of the table in the office and even provided a chair, so Kosha had been spending the entire day there.

The eight books the clever lizard had chosen all had their own uses. Occasionally, a book that seemed unrelated at first glance would, upon closer inspection, serve as foundational knowledge for understanding the next book. He had learned the ancient language when he was very young, but having had no occasion to use it, his reading speed was a bit slow. But the more urgent the situation, the more one must remain calm.

If I read carelessly in a hurry and end up harming Lucian, it would be a disaster…

Rubbing his eyes, stiff from long hours of reading, Kosha gazed at the lizard lying sprawled on one side of the desk as if dead. Though Kosha was the one reading the books, the lizard looked even more exhausted.

Kosha plucked a grape from the fruit basket and offered it to the lizard. Lucian made sure the fruit basket placed at Kosha’s spot never ran empty. Since fruit was something Kosha had always lacked the money to buy, he was endlessly moved by Lucian’s kindness and thoughtfulness.

The lizard, catching the fresh scent, sprang up and bit into the grape. Since the lizard had no physical form, it couldn’t actually consume the food, but wherever its mouth touched, the plump grape shriveled and withered.

Strangely, when the lizard ate well, it seemed to invigorate Kosha’s body too. Kosha fed the lizard about three more grapes and popped two into his own mouth. He was even considering peeling a fresh orange when—

The door swung open.

“Your Highness, here—”

The lizard, which had been happily receiving grapes, startled and hid itself under the bookshelf. Kosha, equally startled, turned to look.

Kosha’s eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected visitor. And it seemed the other person felt the same.

The knight with a neat appearance, who had hurriedly opened the door and entered, stood frozen in place. This gave Kosha the rare chance to acknowledge him first.

“Sir Eydrick!”

Screech— As Kosha pushed his chair back and stood up, Eydrick flinched his shoulders as if newly startled.

“…Mage.”

Eydrick slowly bowed, and Kosha reflexively bent his knee in return.

“Oh, it’s been a while, Sir Eydrick. How have you been?”

This was the first time Kosha had seen Eydrick since that day at the East Wing archive. Having disappeared suddenly, Kosha had been worried ever since if something had happened to him at the East Wing.

He had wanted to ask after him, but it was difficult because Lucian would openly show his displeasure if the events of that day were mentioned. Moreover, Gosrick would often flee, claiming he suddenly remembered something to do, whenever it seemed a conversation with Kosha might continue even a little. Mylotte? Like Eydrick, it had been ages since Kosha had even caught a glimpse of him.

Eydrick was dressed in lightweight leather armor with only a dark-colored cloak draped over it. Neither the cloak, the seams of the armor, nor the sword at his waist bore any insignia indicating affiliation, making him look like a wandering knight.

After a brief hesitation, the man replied in his characteristically calm tone.

“I have returned after completing a task His Highness assigned.”

Kosha had somewhat expected that. For a formally appointed knight, he seemed to undertake solo missions more often than commanding troops.

“But His Highness…”

“He went out this morning and hasn’t returned yet.”

Kosha shook his head. It seemed there was something important today, as Lucian had looked busy since morning. Even Gosrick was absent. Hadn’t he sternly warned Kosha, after leaving him in the office with guards posted, not to even dream of any mischief?

“He should be back before evening, though. Would you like to sit and wait?”

“……”

“You can sit in my chair.”

In a room like this, even a single chair typically had its designated owner or purpose. Worried that there might not be a seat assigned for him, Kosha willingly offered his own chair.

Of course, Eydrick was someone far more familiar with this room’s layout and function than Kosha. Above all, he generally preferred standing to sitting.

However, his deliberation didn’t last long.

“…Yes, then.”

And very naturally, he pulled out the chair next to Kosha and sat down. This left Kosha’s own position feeling awkward.

I was the one who offered the seat first, but sitting right next to me… in this spacious room, isn’t it too close? It’s not that I’m suddenly being shy or formal, but I do tend to feel a bit burdened being in close proximity to someone I’m not originally that close with…

“How is your health? Are you feeling somewhat better?”