LP 1.13 The New Servant

What kind of rude person is that, they deserve a rock to the head. Just as he was grumbling internally, a rock suddenly fell with a thud, and you can’t imagine how startled he was. Kosha, still trying to calm his pounding heart, answered earnestly.

“…I see.”

Did his sincerity get through? The hand pressing Kosha’s shoulder against the wall slowly released.

“Well, there’s no need to never do it again…”

“…?”

He took a step back, and Kosha cautiously raised his head to look up at him. Their eyes met again. Just as he thought a strange hint of a smile seemed to flicker across his serious expression, Lucian asked once more.

“So, how did you say you ended up there in the first place?”

His voice was slightly softer, his pronunciation more precise, and his tone more polite than before.

The subsequent interrogation was a bit slower and a bit longer.

Of course, that didn’t mean the tension was any less.

Now, not only Lucian but also his retainers had gathered in the room, and all their gazes were focused on Kosha.

Kosha didn’t like receiving so many stares at once. Whenever attention was focused on him, bad things happened in his life.

Lucian, at least, was kind enough to let Kosha sit in a chair. Sitting with his back to the others, facing only him, the knot in his stomach that felt like it was shriveling up seemed to improve just a little.

So, Kosha, wanting to repay his kindness, answered all the questions with utmost sincerity.

The only problem was that even he thought his answers sounded a bit unbelievable…

“So, you touched it and the locked door just opened.”

“Yes, yes.”

“But you’re not the type to do that sort of thing.”

“…Yes.”

“You came out and the guard was asleep. You tried shaking him awake, but he wouldn’t wake up, so you went to find Mylotte yourself. Is that my understanding?”

“…Yes.”

His answers grew slower and his voice trailed off. Lucian, sitting on the table opposite, stared down at him intently.

Who goes around telling such barefaced lies without even licking their lips…

Under the blatantly piercing gaze, Kosha uncomfortably averted his eyes.

The figure sitting alone in the middle of the wooden chair with armrests felt more like being confined in a cramped prison cell than sitting in a chair. One corner of Lucian’s eye narrowed.

He looks utterly witless, but anyway, that head of his seems quite plausible on the outside.

His gaze traced the undulating curve from Kosha’s nose to his lips. His hair, still messy despite being tidied, even gave off a decadent feel.

Even considering his disheveled state, it’s surprising I didn’t recognize him immediately.

To the point that even he made a ‘mistake’…

With those moist eyes and that clueless expression, how many men could avoid having their gaze stolen?

If he put his mind to it, seducing and toppling one simple-minded, hot-tempered soldier would be nothing…

He must have seen him every time meals were delivered, which would have been hourly. That bastard had eyes too, he must have seen this face. What did he say? What did he offer in exchange for letting him out of the room?

Suddenly, that room came to mind. That narrow, spartan servant’s room with just one chair and one bed. That expression pretending to know nothing, and the slightly torn lips. With just that, what on earth…

…Enough.

Lucian, without changing his expression, drove the useless thoughts from his mind. He already had plenty to do; he had no time to waste on such idle speculation. Lucian returned to reality. Anyway, the only thing certain now is that this guy is spouting unbelievable lies…

“Do you think that makes sense right now?”

His voice, regardless of his inner thoughts, still flowed out gently. Kosha flinched and trembled.

“Um, well.”

“Hmm?”

“No…”

And his answer, regardless of his inner thoughts, was also docile. Lucian suppressed a laugh that threatened to burst out. This is no time for jokes.

“You want me to believe something even you think is nonsense?”

“But, it’s strange. It’s the truth. That’s all I can tell you.”

“How about this? In my opinion.”

There was no time to listen to flimsy excuses. Lucian slowly rose from his seat.

He walked half a circle around the chair Kosha was sitting in and stood behind him, grabbing the back of the chair. Even though not a single fingertip touched his body, Kosha felt as if his shoulders were being gripped, and he couldn’t bring himself to look back.

“You used that ‘magic’ of yours to put that bastard to sleep and pick the lock to escape.”

“……”

“How about that? Easier and simpler, right? Even plausible.”

“That… might be true.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Kosha bit his lip again and shook his head. Ha. A short, incredulous laugh sounded from above his head.

“But I don’t have that kind of ability either…”

“Ah. Ability.”

He felt the man behind him move again. Even without turning his gaze, the presence standing right beside him was palpable. Still with one hand on the backrest, he suddenly bent at the waist.

“You have no ability, but you threw a rock at someone’s head?”

“……”

“Shouldn’t your story be consistent?”

Kosha blinked. His expression clearly showed he was thinking something stupid like, ‘Huh, is that so?’ Lucian decided not to wait for that unnecessary brain activity.

Anyway, from the very first moment of this farcical interrogation, his goal had been set. Of course, it was decided quite impulsively and arbitrarily, but he did tend to act a bit willfully to begin with.

Lucian completely ignored the uneasy glances of his retainers visible behind the Mage.

After all, the choices he’d made this way so far hadn’t brought particularly bad results.

Even if they did bring bad results, so what…

“It’s fine.”

His tone became a bit more overtly gentle.

“Picking a locked door, laying hands on someone… I’m not trying to blame you for that now. No, on the contrary, it’s impressive.”

He sat back down on the table opposite Kosha. Bending at the waist brought their eye levels roughly even. He could see the Mage’s pale cheeks flushing slightly.

“As you know, Mages are quite rare, right? In this day and age.”

“Tha… that’s right, yes.”

“What magic exactly is, what its limits are… I don’t know well. Neither do I, nor do they.”

“…Ah.”

Kosha’s lips moved as if to say something. Of course, Lucian hadn’t brought this up to hear a complex, tedious, and useless lecture on the principles of magic and the source of power right now.

“So, I was wondering if you could be helpful in other ways as well.”

There’s no need to use this just for making antidotes, right? Setting aside anger, irritation, and all other messy emotions and looking at it plainly, this is a ‘Mage’ after all.

Suspicious and clumsy, but still a Mage. And even docile.

“The court is quite harsh. As you saw earlier, even my older brother doesn’t like me much. And it’s not just my brother, is it? Think about it, how did I end up taking that strange—potion in the first place?”

The very person who made that strange potion fidgeted uncomfortably and tried to turn his head away. Not so fast. A large hand grabbed Kosha’s face, holding it in place. Their eyes finally met.

“Then… um, I…”

What, how… As the stammered words trailed off, Lucian smiled a bit more kindly.

“Just something trivial.”

He vaguely brushed off the answer and reached toward a corner of the table he was sitting on. A silver cup half-filled with water was thrust in front of Kosha.

“For example, this water here.”

“…?”

“Would it be possible to dump it on that person’s head over there?”

He pointed with his finger over Kosha’s shoulder. Following the fingertip in a daze, Kosha turned his head and precisely—their eyes met. It was someone he knew.

“Um, Sir Gosrick…?”

“Yes, Sir Gosrick.”

Lucian answered a beat late. It seems these two have even exchanged names and become friendly.

“Of course, Sir Gosrick is a loyal vassal, so he’ll understand. Right?”

Kosha, looking back and forth between the two with an expression of incomprehension, was about to say something when Lucian cut him off. Gosrick moved his lips with a somewhat absurd expression, then closed his mouth as if resigned to something.

The head that had been anxiously looking around for a while finally seemed to decide on something and focused on the silver cup in Lucian’s hand. Lucian quietly watched the process. This Mage was agonizingly slow by his standards, but something like that, he could generously wait for.

He’s a precious magic resource, after all.

His eyes blinked, his eyelashes fluttered. His utterly non-threatening eyes glared at the water in the silver cup.

Liquid, fixed location, specific volume, distance between two spaces. A gulp went down.

Don’t use magic anymore now,

A still-vivid voice. His tongue anxiously licked his lips. The power coursing through his body, the trajectory to channel it through, to what extent, how much? And again, the familiar voice.

It’s better not to be a Mage anymore.

His mouth went dry, his fingertips twitched briefly.

“If… if I can’t, if I can’t do it, what happens…?”

The choked voice was so faint it felt like someone else’s. Kosha cautiously gauged the expression of the man sitting opposite. He was still smiling as smoothly as a painting. But those bluish-gray eyes were utterly unreadable.

After a moment of silence, Lucian tilted his head slightly.

“It’s not about what happens.”

“……”

“It would just be, well, a bit disappointing.”

Instantly, his stomach—or rather his solar plexus, or somewhere above that in his chest—tightened uneasily, and Kosha flinched.

Disappointment. Wasn’t his life already riddled with disappointment? Meeting someone’s expectations was something that probably didn’t suit someone like him…

“Can’t do it?”

Lucian, who had been quietly waiting for him, asked. Well, then there’s no choice. Just as he was about to put the cup away.

“W-wait a moment.”

Kosha urgently reached out. His body moved ahead of proper thought, ahead of reason. Or perhaps it was similar to a desperate struggle toward some opportunity that would never come again. His bony, thin hand covered the cup from above and grabbed it.

Instantly, a feeling of something contracting delivered an equal shock to both their palms. And Lucian witnessed it.

There was complete nothingness. In the place where the silver cup had been.

A void where not even light or air existed. For an instant, it seemed everything would be sucked into it—then the space crumpled.

And the space where the cup had disappeared was filled again with light and air. Kosha’s hand wobbled and landed in the empty space where the cup had been. It was the moment their palms met upside down.

“Ugh.”

With a short groan, clang! The clear sound of metal falling echoed through the room. Lucian jerked his head up.

The silver cup that had hit Gosrick’s head was rolling clatteringly across the stone floor. Water spilled from the cup spread profusely on the floor. People nearby hastily took a few steps back.

A distance of roughly ten steps. The crumpled space and the silver cup moved without a trace. The slightly cold, damp hand trembling faintly on his own palm.

“Ah…”

Lucian suddenly let out a sigh. It was the moment when Kosha, panting as if he had just sprinted, startled and tried to pull his hand away. Lucian instinctively tightened his grip.

The wrist, seemingly nothing but bone, fit perfectly between his index and middle fingers. Wrapping his fingers around it and rubbing the protruding bone of the wrist a few times with his thumb, the strength drained from the flinching hand all too absurdly.

It was excessively easy to subdue.

“Really, it’s better than I thought…”

And that was sincere.

---

“…Are you serious?”

Gosrick asked.

It was the very next day after the Mage had struck his head with the silver cup.

He was the one among the retainers who had known Lucian the longest, was also family by blood, one of the teachers who had helped correct his manners as a child, the first knight to swear loyalty to him, and despite being a knight, also served as a strategist and advisor.

In short, he was among the top three in terms of speaking rights in this room… but it was quite rare for him to so openly oppose or question Lucian’s intentions.

“Say what you want to say.”

At the nonchalant reply, Gosrick hesitated for a moment.

“Trusting a Mage minimally to solve an already existing problem, and actively utilizing him for new matters… the weight is completely different.”

“That’s right.”

Lucian surprisingly readily agreed.

“But did I say I trust him?”

I just said I’d try using him a bit, didn’t I? Just as Gosrick furrowed his brow at the evasive, almost quibbling retort.

“Back in Alkita.”

It was a sudden change of topic. But everyone present reflexively frowned as if by prior agreement. The words that probably came to mind were roughly similar.

—Ah, that damn…

It was one of the eastern seven fortresses that Lucian had spent a full four years reclaiming. It was the first battlefield where his army had to face a proper ‘Mage,’ the messiest, the longest-drawn-out, and the one that produced the most casualties.

Grafen, who had been occupying it, was, to put it nicely, a backward country, or to put it harshly, a barbaric one still half-steeped in a mythical age. Their royal family itself was of Mage lineage from the start, and they were famous for repeated inbreeding to preserve that bloodline.

And the one who had been the lord of Alkita Fortress, the most crucial among the eastern seven, was a collateral relative of the Grafen royal family and a Mage himself.

And he really, really gave Lucian a ‘damn’ hard time…

“Back then, there was only that one Mage in Alkita.”

“……”

“And yet it was that difficult.”

Of the four-year campaign, nearly a full year was spent on Alkita. Of course, after capturing and killing the lord of Alkita Fortress, they became somewhat accustomed to fighting against Mages, making subsequent matters proceed more smoothly…

“Thinking about it, we’ve only ever looked for ways to kill Mages and counter magic, haven’t we? We’ve never once considered having a Mage as an ally.”

Well, acquiring a Mage isn’t something you can achieve just by trying.

No matter how much the adage has been passed down that he who acquires a Mage draws closer to the throne, it’s literally just an adage passed down since the mythical age. In reality, it’s often interpreted less as a saying about the actual throne and more as an indirect way of revealing the exclusivity of the Mage race.

Gosrick raised one eyebrow with a weary expression. His lord did have a tendency to enjoy gambling a bit…

“But conversely, would a Mage cooperate?”

Mylotte suddenly interjected. Lucian tilted his head as if probing the intent behind the question.

“No, I mean, it’s like this. The first impression wasn’t good either…”

“First impression?”

“Didn’t we kidnap, torture, threaten, and beat him out of the blue?”

“Well, strictly speaking, the torture was only pretended.”

Gosrick made an excuse, and Mylotte raised his eyes as if to ask if that mattered now.

“Besides, there was that, um, disgraceful, ahem, incident too.”

“……”

“Wouldn’t acting cooperatively be suspicious? For someone in their right mind.”

…Personally, I wouldn’t cooperate with my perpetrator. Mylotte added after a moment of gauging the mood. At that, Lucian smiled a little.

“What are you talking about now?”

He frowned lightly with a smiling face. First impression, my foot, why is everyone suddenly acting like fools?

“He likes me, doesn’t he?”

This time, a truly heavy silence fell. The bluish-gray eyes swept over his retainers, who seemed at a loss for words.

“Why wouldn’t he have a reason to cooperate? That’s what was said back then. That he likes me, wasn’t it?”

Lucian drove the point home once more, and the room remained quiet. Well, it’s true that Gosrick had said something like that before…

No one could find an appropriate response.

They were, after all, people who had thought too long and too fiercely… only about politics, justification, profit, and reward. Concepts like ‘likes,’ sentimental, vague, soft, and even feeling pure… well… were not their area of expertise.