Chapter 74 - The Pirate King of Laxas (1)

About a week and five days after leaving Coloni.

“Then I look forward to seeing you again, my lord!”

“Indeed.”

Leaving the caravan leader bent double in a deep bow, Alon decided to return to House Pallatio first. He could hardly drag the treasure-laden carriages he had received in Coloni along for the rest of his journey.

So he returned home, deposited both carriages, and immediately set out again for Lartania.

Had Lartania been in the opposite direction from Laxas, he would have headed straight for his destination without hesitation. Fortunately, Lartania lay along the way to Laxas.

Of course, stopping there still meant taking a detour rather than the shortest route, but he willingly accepted that and embarked on another journey.

Five days passed.

“My lord.”

As Alon gazed idly at the forest stretching leisurely past, Evan, who was driving the carriage, suddenly spoke up.

“What is it?”

“Nothing in particular, but you seem troubled lately.”

“Do I?”

“Yes. Haven’t you been lost in thought quite often recently?”

Alon was silent for a moment before answering.

“I suppose I have.”

“Is it because of that matter you mentioned last time? The one you said you needed to think about?”

At Evan’s words, he thought, 'I am curious about that, too.'

But faith was not what had been occupying Alon’s thoughts lately.

He was certainly very curious about why he had acquired a vessel capable of holding stature. However, he had far too little information to ponder the matter or draw any conclusions on his own. His attention was currently on the dragonkin’s final words instead.

'... Two possibilities.'

He recalled the dragonkin’s explanation of magic.

[“As you know, the magic created by the Magus can only be used with mental imagery.”]

[“This is an immutable law and truth, as natural and certain as the rising and setting of the sun. And yet—you disregard it as though it were nothing.”]

He then remembered the dragonkin extending its index and middle fingers, somewhat sharper than a human’s.

[“That law is immutable. It can never change, nor must it ever change. Thus, I believe one of two possibilities applies to you.”]

[“The first is that you, standing here before me, may be an inhuman being of a magnitude I cannot imagine.”]

[“The other is that you simply do not remember.”]

Alon recalled how the dragonkin had seen him off with the words, [“Those are the two conclusions I have reached. Think on them.”] He smacked his lips.

'No matter how I look at it, neither seems right.'

Naturally, Alon was no inhuman being or anything of the sort. If he were anything like what the dragonkin had described, he would not be struggling this much in the first place.

But the second possibility it had offered, the one concerning his memories, did not resonate with him at all either. He had never lived through the forgotten age of the gods, when the Magi were said to have existed.

Even in the game, the forgotten age of the gods had been nothing more than background lore. Babilonia’s phrases and hand seals had merely been ways to increase magic attack power; their lore had never been properly explored.

In other words, whatever little Alon knew about mental imagery came from his conversations with the dragonkin.

That was why he had initially asked whether there might be another possibility. But the dragonkin had firmly insisted that there could be no possibilities beyond those two.

'Why is it that the more time passes, the more unfamiliar facts I discover instead of getting answers? Honestly.'

Alon let out a brief sigh, then shrugged. If the dragonkin was right, he would eventually be able to see the truth of this world once he reached Laxas.

... Of course, what mattered more to him than glimpsing the truth of the world was using that truth to predict whether a crisis would befall it.

His original aim, a peaceful life, remained his goal now just as it had always been.

“A peaceful life, huh.”

Hearing the quiet murmur beneath the rumble of the wheels, Evan spoke.

“Do you wish to live a peaceful life?”

“I do.”

“... Your life doesn’t seem remotely peaceful, considering.”

“I’m merely a little busy at the moment.”

“I doubt things will be any different a few years from now...”

“...”

Alon said nothing.

... Much as he hated to admit it, deep down he had been thinking the same thing.

“Evan.”

“Yes?”

“You can have sweet potatoes for dinner tonight.”

“... Pardon?”

Still, thinking something and saying it aloud were two different things. Having indulged in a little petty retaliation, Alon looked out of the carriage.

Unlike his state of mind, the scenery outside was utterly peaceful.

... It was a day when the late evening sun was setting.

####

Several more days passed, and Alon arrived in Lartania. Before heading to Merd, he decided to stop nearby and buy a suitable gift.

He had no intention of having his artifacts appraised for free, but quite apart from that, he considered it good manners to bring a gift or two when visiting someone’s home.

It also bothered him that he had been in too much of a hurry to bring anything on his last visit to deal with the Outer God.

Remembering the worn fountain pen in Rine’s office, he stopped at a shop to buy one.

While choosing something that would neither seem cheap nor be so extravagant as to make her uncomfortable, he overheard a rumor.

“Did you hear?”

“What?”

“Another member of the Council of Three died recently.”

“I heard that too. You mean Bima, right?”

“Yes, him.”

“Hmm. He certainly deserved to die, considering all the bribes he gobbled up... But with Riet, another councilor, already dead...”

“Rine is the only one left. Everyone’s in an uproar over it.”

“Why is that?”

“This is just something I heard, but apparently she killed all the other councilors.”

“Why? How did that rumor start?”

“Well—I’m not sure, but they supposedly had a fight recently. I heard someone insulted her godfather—”

“...??”

A somewhat unsettling rumor.

####

Deus Makalian, known as the Second Sword among Callivan’s Five Swords, enjoyed unrivaled fame within the country.

Although the match had been unofficial and left no record, word that he had defeated Reinhardt had already spread throughout Callivan.

Of course, despite his dazzling fame and overwhelming charisma, whispers occasionally circulated behind his back that he was suspiciously fond of magic for a Master Knight.

Or that, while practicing swordsmanship every night, he would cautiously adopt strange poses when no one was watching and pretend to cast spells...

... In any event, Deus Makalian’s fame was so overwhelming that those peculiar rumors never gained any traction.

Yet some people did not look kindly on this state of affairs.

One of them was a prince of Callivan.

Tirian, the second prince and son of King Palmarian IV of Callivan, was not particularly pleased with the situation. After all, he had a bitter history with Deus Makalian.

Of course, he himself was responsible for their relationship turning sour.

Unlike the first prince, who had always been regarded within the palace as fit to be king, Tirian was known as the palace wastrel. He had once tried to lay his hands on Deus Makalian’s only younger sister.

After harassing her with a stream of vulgar remarks utterly devoid of dignity, he had been humiliatingly beaten in a duel sanctioned by the king. With that memory, Tirian could hardly help hating him.

“Tch.”

In any case, the reason he was now thinking about Deus, whom he would rather not think about at all, was a secret request he had received that day.

A request to exert political pressure on Count Pallatio.

Granting it was not particularly difficult. No, it went beyond that—he absolutely had to grant it.

The reason Second Prince Tirian could still maintain a faction of this size despite behaving like such an utter bastard was the “goods” supplied by the very person making the request.

Moreover, the request itself was not especially difficult to carry out.

Launching a political scheme against Count Pallatio out of nowhere would indeed have been a considerable burden for him. The count was a noble of the Kingdom of Asteria, not Callivan.

Even if their nations belonged to the allied kingdoms, exerting pressure on another country’s noble in this manner was something to approach cautiously.

Nevertheless, there was one reason Tirian considered it easy to apply political pressure to Count Pallatio.

The sender of the letter had provided sufficiently reasonable information to make such pressure seem natural even coming from Callivan’s second prince.

In other words, he could pressure the count without taking any great risk. And by granting the request, he could also put the sender of the letter in his debt, however slightly.

The only problem was that Count Pallatio and Deus Makalian were extremely close.

No, to be more precise, the obstacle was that Deus Makalian liked Count Pallatio far more than Tirian had expected.

“Hmm...”

He knew perfectly well that if the subject of mages so much as arose during a meeting of the Five Swords, Deus would immediately bring up Count Pallatio and deliver a roughly hour-long speech about how splendid the count was.

One of the Swords aligned with his faction reported to him regularly.

He even knew that lately Deus had begun launching into praise of the count so abruptly that people asked, “How did Count Pallatio suddenly come into this?”

'Hmm...'

Tirian was torn.

Granting a request to make an enemy of Count Pallatio was nothing compared with what he stood to gain.

Besides, for someone who hated Deus, it was a golden opportunity to screw over the count he so worshipped.

Yet he still hesitated because he had no idea what Deus Makalian might do upon hearing the news.

For all his unrivaled fame, wasn’t the man like a rabid dog?

Tirian deliberated for a while, then made his decision.

'No matter how insane the bastard is, he won’t be able to act.'

A malicious smile spread across his face.

The only reason Deus Makalian had been able to beat him half to death and humiliate him before was that he had justification.

Without that justification, however rabid a dog Deus Makalian might be, he could not touch him.

No matter how small his faction was or how much of the current king’s trust he had lost, Tirian was still Callivan’s second prince. Surely Deus knew that attacking him without any justification would be nothing short of madness.

Thus, Tirian was certain he would be unable to do anything.

... Until a day ago.

CRAAASH!

Tirian stared ahead blankly.

A man stood where the door to the office in the second prince’s separate palace had been utterly smashed apart.

Deus Makalian, holding a wooden sword in one hand.

“A Sword of Callivan pays his respects to the heir to the Five Swords.”

His piercing violet eyes gleaming, he had come to see Tirian.

“I have something to ask. That is why I am here.”