Chapter 37 - Coloni, the City in the Desert (2)

Two weeks and three days after leaving Teria, the capital of the Kingdom of Asteria, Alon was crossing the southern desert he had to pass through to reach Coloni.

“Whew...”

Alon glanced at the scorching sun. Simply breathing in and out made it feel as though his lungs were cooking.

“It's hot as hell.”

As he stared blankly at the sky, Evan's voice reached him, and Alon managed a weary nod. No matter how fine a carriage was, it couldn't keep out the heat.

“Ugh... If only I had an ice crystal stooone...”

Evan was talking about an artifact that cost more than several mansions just to purchase one. He looked rather ridiculous with his tongue hanging out like a dog's, presumably from the heat, but Alon couldn't laugh at him.

The desert was just too damned hot.

'I should have arrived by now. I should have moved a little faster...'

The thought crossed Alon's mind as he let out a quiet sigh.

In fact, he had reached the edge of the desert a little over a week after setting out for Coloni. Had he entered it immediately, he might already have arrived by now.

But there were two reasons he hadn't, and was still traveling through the desert. The first was that he had briefly stopped at another estate to prepare a gift for Seollang in Coloni.

'It'll be our first time meeting face-to-face, after all. Even if she doesn't help me, bringing a gift is only proper.'

At any rate, that was why Alon was still crossing the desert beneath the blazing sun, even though he should have had more than enough time to reach Coloni.

... Thinking about it rationally, the distance he had to cross remained the same whether he departed early or late, so his departure time made no difference. Nevertheless, beneath that scorching sun, Alon felt strangely wronged.

“Whew...”

How much time had passed with him nursing that unreasonable feeling?

“We're camping here!”

As the broiling sun slowly sank toward sunset, Alon heard the shout from outside and stepped out of the carriage.

Dozens of carriages stood in rows across the darkening ground, each bearing a small oil lamp.

And this was the second reason Alon had departed late.

“It's already our fifth day seeing this, but the more I look at it, the more reassuring it feels.”

Alon nodded at Evan's remark.

He was traveling with a merchant caravan crossing the desert. He knew all too well that crossing such a long stretch of desert alone to reach Coloni was not a good idea.

“My lord?”

Evan spoke as they watched the merchants begin preparing camp at their leader's command.

“What is it?”

“Will you be practicing your magic, by any chance?”

Evan tried to hide it, but a hint of anticipation showed on his face. Briefly puzzled, Alon soon realized what he meant and answered.

“I intend to, but it will be different from the magic I've been researching until now.”

“Oh.”

Evan looked a little disappointed, but unfortunately, Alon had no intention of changing his mind. After months of research, he could now handle that magic perfectly. Practicing it held little meaning for him anymore.

“... Couldn't you practice it just once?”

“No.”

“Tsk...”

Alon watched Evan sigh regretfully at his firm refusal, but only for a moment.

“Wow, he's practically... crawling on his belly. You'd think he was a bug.”

As the sun gradually disappeared and the air began to grow chilly, Alon lit a campfire. Then he followed the gaze of Evan, who was clicking his tongue at something.

Five people stood where Evan was looking. One was a man in rather luxurious clothes, and another was a woman whose red hair seemed to embody crimson flames. Behind them stood mercenaries, each holding a weapon.

'The caravan owner and the mage from the Red Magic Tower. They haven't missed a single day.'

Alon knew them. No, he couldn't possibly have failed to know them.

The man groveling before the red-haired mage and the mercenaries, busily rubbing his hands together, was the leader of this caravan, Goldenfoot. And the mage in front of him had been picking fights with Alon quite often lately.

“Wow, he keeps stuffing them with food every single day. Has he got no pride?”

Evan shook his head at the caravan leader, who rubbed his hands together as he supplied fine wine and food once a day.

But both Evan, despite his insults, and Alon knew why the caravan leader was groveling before the mage.

For someone leading a trading caravan, befriending a magic tower's mage was an excellent thing in itself. More importantly, though, he bowed so low because she was the daughter of the Red Magic Tower's master. And while she had yet to become deputy tower master, she had reached the fourth tier at the young age of twenty-three.

In other words, for a caravan leader whose connections mattered as much as his business acumen, even the utmost hospitality would scarcely be enough.

... Objectively speaking, Alon was by no means an inferior prospect for those valuable connections. Unfortunately, the wealthy merchant prostrating himself before the mage apparently hadn't heard the recent news of Alon's rise to faction leader, and seemed to have abandoned any attempt to befriend him without hesitation.

More precisely, he had most likely been eager to cultivate ties with both of them. But since the mage had set herself against Alon, he had decisively given up on one to focus on the other.

“...”

As he idly watched the caravan leader bowing with those thoughts in mind, Alon realized that the woman was looking at him and turned his gaze away.

“Hmm. What are you staring at?”

Even so, she had quickly caught on and come over to find fault. Alon answered her—Riyan Agulus.

“Nothing in particular.”

“Peeping must be a hobby of yours.”

Riyan began picking a fight without the slightest restraint. A peculiar blend of contempt and reproach colored her voice.

“No, I have no such hobby.”

“Really? My apologies. I thought someone who works so hard at fabricating rumors might well enjoy peeping, too.”

Alon sighed. Even a civil answer only invited another blatant provocation.

'What a nuisance.'

He didn't know exactly why Riyan had been picking fights with him all this time. Still, he could guess at a few of her main reasons. One was the rumor that Alon's magic had made an enormous contribution to dealing with the Outer God, which had spread chiefly among the mages of Callivan and the Blue Magic Tower.

The funny thing was that Alon had never said a word about it. Yet she seemed firmly convinced that he had spread the rumor himself.

And another reason she picked fights with him...

“I've told you several times: I wasn't the one who spread that rumor.”

“You play innocent just like the Blue Magic Tower.”

...seemed to be her intense dislike of the Blue Magic Tower.

“...”

Behind his expressionless face, Alon gave an inward, incredulous laugh. Even if he looked suspicious to her, such blatant antagonism wasn't reasonable behavior in this world, either.

Yet he merely listened to her taunts because they were so childish that they left him feeling nothing at all.

... Actually, that was only one reason. The real reason was her status.

Unlike Penia, she held no office in the Red Magic Tower. But she possessed a family tie more formidable than any office there: she was the tower master's daughter.

Of course, the Red Magic Tower's master wasn't a supporting character with a particularly significant role in the game. When one of the Five Great Sins descended, he charged in alone because the Red Magic Tower had been destroyed, only to meet a spectacular death.

Put another way, his fiery temperament meant that he didn't even fear death.

... To put it more plainly, he was a lunatic.

And although her fourth-tier strength was more than enough to keep her from getting beaten up wherever she went, the caliber of the mercenaries doggedly staying at her side made it clear just how carefully the Red Magic Tower's master looked after her.

'Well, once we're done crossing the desert, I won't be seeing her again anyway.'

So he listened to her provocations while largely ignoring them.

“Hmph...”

Perhaps she had noticed that Alon was merely humoring her. Riyan scowled fiercely, spun around, and returned to her carriage. Watching her go, Alon shook his head.

####

The next day.

Rad, the leader of Goldenfoot, smiled at the blazing sunlight. He took his caravan of more than thirty carriages on trading journeys throughout the kingdoms, excluding the empire, which they could not enter with such a procession.

Sweat dripped from his corpulent body, showing just how loudly it was screaming from the heat. Yet a smile rested on his lips when he should have been suffering.

After all, he had gained an opportunity to build a connection with none other than the Red Magic Tower master's daughter. Better still, if things went well, he might secure distribution rights to supply the Red Magic Tower regularly from the city they were heading to. That prospect had kept him happy lately, even in the sweltering heat.

'... It would have been nice to build a connection with the nobleman, too.'

Looking regretful, Rad turned his gaze behind him. Count Pallatio's carriage was traveling at the rear of the caravan, but aside from a trace of regret, there was little emotion in Rad's eyes.

His long years of trading had taught him all too well that he couldn't have it both ways. Besides...

'... With magical ability around the third tier, those rumors really don't make much sense.'

Riyan, the Red Magic Tower master's daughter, had repeatedly told him how much mana she sensed from Alon and claimed that he was spreading false rumors. Having heard that, Rad wasn't especially sorry to miss the chance to form a connection with him.

Of course, things might have been different had Rad heard the latest rumors. Unfortunately, all he knew was that Alon had ties to one of Callivan's Master Knights.

At any rate, thanks to that, Rad had been enjoying his trading journey in his own way despite the heat, without any particular worries.

... Until a moment ago.

“Everyone, prepare for battle!”

He frowned at the mercenary's sudden shout from the front of the smoothly traveling caravan. In a desert like this, there was only one reason for mercenaries to call for battle preparations.

'Tsk. Bandits...?'

Rad sighed as he thought of the bands of thieves that roamed this vast desert, preying on merchant caravans. Yet there was no sign of tension on his face.

Alongside the dozens of mercenaries he had hired, Goldenfoot currently had at least ten mercenaries ranked B or higher, hired to escort the Red Magic Tower master's daughter.

In other words, an ordinary bandit gang could never harm the caravan. Certain of that, Rad had remained at ease.

But the instant he spotted the enormous banner in the distance, his eyes widened in terror. The banner approaching through a cloud of dust was one that no merchant ever wanted to encounter.

'Bloodsand...!'

As the bandit gang's name came to mind, fear quickly washed over Rad's face. Even at a glance, they numbered more than several dozen, and every member possessed fighting strength on par with a knight.

SHING!

The moment Rad finished that thought, one of the bandits charging at the front hurled a chain sickle at a mercenary in the caravan's vanguard, taking his life.

That began the battle.

No—the slaughter.

As though they had never intended to negotiate, the bandits surged forward and massacred the mercenaries protecting the carriages in an instant.

Then...

“All right, that's enough.”

A man stepped out from among the Bloodsand bandits, who had killed most of the mercenaries in less than two minutes.

Wearing an eyepatch over one eye and a curved saber at either hip, he looked around the horrific scene of slaughter.

“Oh.”

Then he spotted the mage Riyan, filled with fear and tension amid the elite mercenaries still holding out, and gave a crooked grin.

“Oh, she's really here! We've hit the jackpot.”

His voice sounded excited.

“Who the hell are you?”

Riyan frowned as she asked. The man drew a saber from his waist.

“You'll find out once you come with me.”

With another crooked grin, he infused his blade with mana.

Riyan scowled at the blue mana blazing from his sword like burning flames. Beneath that outward expression, however, she was in despair.

The moment she saw the aura burning from his blade—clearly far more advanced than that of the other knights—she realized that she would never escape.

... That she might meet a fate more wretched than death.

“...”

The moment that thought occurred to her, the trauma of her past began streaming through Riyan's mind. More fear than the situation alone warranted filled her eyes.

The terrible trauma made her entire body tremble at the mere thought of it. Just as she felt it unwittingly begin to eat away at her mind...

“...”

What brought Riyan back to her senses was—

“—?”

—the air.

The hyperventilation that had accompanied her trauma stopped for an instant, and she slowly exhaled. A cloud of white vapor appeared clearly before her eyes.

Seeing it, Riyan suddenly realized something. The air, which had been hot enough to cook her lungs only moments earlier, now carried a biting chill.

“What—”

As Riyan stared blankly ahead at that realization, she saw the man's crooked grin give way to bewilderment. The ground that had been scorching moments earlier was not merely cooling—frost was forming on the sand.

And then...

STEP.

A footstep sounded in the silence.

The bandits turned to look. So did the mercenaries whose faces had been tense until moments ago, the man holding two curved sabers with Riyan as his target, and Riyan herself, who had just been floundering in her trauma.

Where they looked, a man was walking.

STEP.

At a pace neither fast nor slow.

STEP.

Expressionless, as though the situation stirred no particular emotion in him.

STEP.

Channeling the gray mana flowing from his bracelet into the cold, the man finally stopped.

“One Cycle.”

Count Pallatio recited a phrase.