CHAPTER 7
"Yes, Father," Charlotte assured him with a determined nod.
Usually, it was the lower-ranking nobles who protected those above them,
but her father was emphasizing the responsibilities that the higher ranks had
for those below them. He believed that those beneath you were not to be used
as a shield but instead were under your guardianship. While each of them
worked to protect you, you were the one who kept them safe by gathering
them under your wing. The most important thing was not to take them for
granted.
Lecia was not only the viscount's daughter, but a younger friend of
Charlotte's. It was therefore her responsibility to keep the younger girl safe.
"I swear on my sword," Charlotte proclaimed.
"Good." Purce gave a satisfied nod.
"Father, would you train with me until it is time to leave?"
"Very well. Take up your sword."
The two of them sparred for some time before Charlotte wiped away the
sweat, caught her breath, and returned to the estate.
There, she was informed that Lecia was waiting for her in the reception
room. She went to see her friend immediately, who greeted her by rising from
the couch and curtsying.
Lecia was dressed as adorably as ever. Her shiny, silver hair was in its
usual ponytail, and she wore her usual frilly blouse and blue ribbon, complete
with a blue skirt. Along with her pink lips and round cheeks, every last inch
of her was utterly charming.
Most of all, Charlotte admired her ruby-red eyes. They weren't just
beautiful; they had an honest and innocent shine to them.
Once the two of them greeted each other, they set off into the city. Thanks
to the abundant guards on patrol, the main street, commercial areas, and roads
lined with noble estates were perfectly safe for children to wander alone,
though the same couldn't be said for the downtown bazaar or alleyways.
As Charlotte and Lecia walked together, they caught up with what was
going on in each other's lives. They spoke of how their studies and training
were going, shared gossip of other noble families, and discussed what sort of
accessories were in fashion lately. After a while, the topic changed to the
documents from the party.
"You gave them to Arcus for safekeeping?"
"That's right."
Charlotte was already well acquainted with Lecia's brother and his less-
than-stellar reputation. She understood, at least in an academic sense, why he
was cut loose—the Raytheft heir would, by definition, need the aether
reserves to sustain their front in the war effort. How could the commander
hope to lead if he couldn't keep up with his troops and had no more aether
than the average magician?
She still felt bad for Arcus, given that he'd lost so much purely through an
irreparable accident of birth. Since magical prowess was all the Raythefts
cared about, it allowed them to cut him off mere years after he was born. That
was also presumably why Joshua had so decisively called off her engagement
with his son.
Lecia, however, spoke of her brother in a very different way.
"The bag shall be safe if it's with him," Lecia said.
"You have an awful lot of trust in him, don't you?"
"I do." Lecia broke into a smile, which wasn't a rare sight at all when she
was talking about Arcus. Charlotte guessed that he probably doted on and
treated her very gently indeed.
During her life so far, Charlotte had met all sorts of young noblemen of
her age. Some trained endlessly to take command of their martial houses, and
some devoted their time to study so that they could inherit their lot from their
fathers. Some worked hard in learning how to conduct themselves and
display perfectly elegant behavior, and some, usually from particularly
wealthy houses, even felt able to shirk their studies or physical disciplines.
Charlotte tried very hard to picture what Arcus might look like, using
Lecia's appearance as a template. In her mind, she saw a well-mannered
young boy with Lecia's silver hair and a thin frame. He looked withdrawn
and completely unsuited for any sort of conflict. Charlotte then imagined him
standing by her side as her husband. It was... a strange sight, to put it politely.
"Charlotte?"
"Yes, Lecia?"
Lecia's small voice interrupted her trail of thought. She looked down to
see her friend staring anxiously at the ground.
"Do you think... the sort of talent one can see is really that important?"
"I must say I'm not quite sure myself." Charlotte paused, considering the
question from a noble point of view. "However, as nobles, we are placed in a
position above others. Power justifies that position. Without more power and talent than the average person, a noble risks illegitimacy, I daresay. And
when one holds such great talent, it is invariably visible to everyone."
"Oh..."
Her answer probably did nothing to soothe Lecia's worries about her
brother. Charlotte thought for a while, trying to put herself in Arcus's shoes.
What if she turned out to be completely useless at fencing and was shunned
because of it? Charlotte was sure that her own father would never treat her
that way, despite her lack of ability, but she could certainly see it happening
if she were born into a different noble family. When she framed it like that,
she could see the injustice in it. Her future stripped away from her at such a
young age, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it...
Having walked for a while, Charlotte and Lecia left the noble estates
behind them. They were now approaching the main shopping district,
discussing which stores they should visit first. All of a sudden, they heard
hurried footsteps pounding against the cobblestone road. The next moment,
they were surrounded by a number of men. From the looks of things, their
formation was planned in advance.
"Charlotte? What's going on?" Lecia asked anxiously, as Charlotte found
herself speechless.
Every escape route, both in front and behind, was blocked off by precisely
ten men in total. Apart from the two girls and these men, there was no one
around to help, either. Charlotte readied her hand on her rapier before calling
out to them.
"Identify yourselves!"
"We don't need to!" One of the men stepped forward.
He appeared to be the leader of the group. He was broadly built, with just
a little excess fat on his stomach. Untamed stubble sprouted on his round
chin, and he was slimy, even compared to the people who usually hung
around this part of the city. Charlotte also noticed that he was wearing
completely different armor from what was typical of the capital's guards.
His chest armor was leather, his gauntlets iron, and there was a large
broadsword on his back. Some was new, and some old, as though he cobbled
the whole set together from whatever he could find. Charlotte doubted very
much that he was related to a noble or merchant family.
The men with him were dressed similarly, a clear sign that they belonged to the same group.
Charlotte stepped forward, covering for Lecia behind her.
"What do you want with us?" she demanded.
"We just want you to come along. Won't take long."
"Do you really think we shall be accompanying you willingly?"
As the leader swaggered toward her, Charlotte drew her rapier and held its
tip to his face. The man grinned at her mockingly, as though she had done no
more than hold a bunch of flowers out to him.
"Fierce little one, aren't you? I can see why people admire you, Miss
Charlotte. But what does a frail princess like you think she can do against a
whole group of men like us?" he guffawed.
Charlotte felt disgust coiling in her stomach as the other men joined in.
The man then turned his gaze to Lecia.
"Don't you worry, Miss Raytheft, we've got a magician here with us,
too." The large man jerked his chin in the direction of one of the others.
He already picked up on the fact that Lecia was preparing to use magic.
Just as the man said, there were several men who were dressed like
magicians among their group. Though the girls had no way to tell whether
they really could use magic, the leader didn't seem to be lying.
Charlotte pushed the thought from her mind; there were more important
things at hand.
"You know who we are?" Charlotte questioned.
"Yeah."
"How?"
These men knew both Charlotte's and Lecia's identities. That alone told
Charlotte that they weren't your ordinary back-alley kidnappers. They knew
they were dealing with nobility, and yet they still targeted them.
"I'd appreciate it if you could put your sword away, Madame. As long as
you do what we say, we won't harm you, all right?"
"What reason have I to trust in your words?"
"So it's a fight you're wanting, is it?" Bending backward ever so slightly,
the large man unsheathed the broadsword from his back.
Charlotte's eyes narrowed. A sword fight was just what she was hoping
for.
"Ch-Charlotte!" Lecia called out anxiously.
"Leave it to me, Lecia. As soon as I've dealt with this, we can make our
escape."
"But Charlotte—"
"Trust me. He is not as much of a threat as he seems to believe," Charlotte
replied confidently.
She wasn't bluffing, either. She was almost certain she would be able to
claim victory. In fact, it was more than that: she couldn't see herself losing.
She spent countless hours in the training halls, taking on and defeating
adult opponents just like this one. The evidence was clear. This was a fight
she was bound to win.
After all, she was gifted. Gifted with the ability to see her opponent's
moves before they even made them.
Even then, Lecia seemed nervous.
"What? You got some kinda plan or something?" the man asked.
"Yes. A plan which involves your defeat."
"Ooh, I'm shaking in my boots!" The man grinned scornfully.
It was clear to Charlotte that he thought she was just putting on a brave
face. While it was true their difference in size was not insignificant, she had
fought several opponents even taller than him before.
She could do this. She could fight, and she could win.
If she defeated the leader here, she might be able to break through the
men's defenses and run away with Lecia.
The fighters held their swords out to one another. Charlotte focused,
trying to foresee her opponent's moves.
"Oh..."
Unwittingly, she let out a soft gasp.
She saw the man's sword striking her and sending her body flying.
"What? Now you're scared? Or did you just realize you have no hope of
winning this match?"
Charlotte grit her teeth without responding and lowered her rapier.
She saw it: her own defeat. How could she fight now?
"Put your sword away," the man repeated.
Charlotte paused before eventually doing as she was told and resheathing
her rapier.
She had no hopes of winning a head-on fight with this man. Maybe if they
were both armed with rapiers and it was just training, things would be
different, but it was his broadsword which gave him an advantage.
In her vision, the man had barely even reacted to the thrust of her sword.
She was only a young girl, and to him her thrust was no more powerful than a wasp sting. She was foolish to think she could beat him. Beating so many
adults in the training hall had given her a false sense of confidence.
At that moment, one of the men, his hood pulled low over his eyes,
stepped forward. Charlotte watched him cautiously. He was dressed
completely differently to the others. As he approached, the larger man opened
his mouth.
"This is them, right?"
The hooded man nodded. He wasn't talking; he likely wanted to keep his
identity a secret. After a while, the larger man spoke again, this time
addressing Lecia and Charlotte.
"Come with us."
"Do you even understand the gravity of your actions? Kidnapping
children of noble heritage is a serious crime!" Charlotte protested.
"You can tell it to the guy who hired us."
The guy who hired them? Did he mean the man in the hood?
"Is that you?" Charlotte asked him.
No response.
"Answer me!" She raised her voice.
The next moment, the larger man had his broadsword at her throat. She
didn't even have time to react. Even if she had, the difference in strength
would render her actions useless.
"Please keep calm, Madame. You too, Miss Raytheft."
Charlotte swallowed.
"P-Please do not harm Charlotte!" Lecia called out.
"I won't, as long as you behave. Just do what we say and don't resist."
Lecia was forced to shrink back, despite her courageous outburst. The two
of them no longer had any choice but to follow after the men. They were led
far away from the noble residences to an area which was totally deserted.
There stood a carriage waiting for them.
Drawn by two horses, the carriage was much more splendorous than it had
any right to be in a desolate area like this. The windows were adorned with
heavy curtains that blocked anything that was going on inside from view.
Lecia and Charlotte were ushered into the carriage by the ringleader and
the hooded man, who got on after them.
"Charlotte..." Lecia whimpered.
"We shall find our chance to escape," Charlotte promised her.
Lecia nodded.
"And if not..."
"I know..." Lecia whispered, her voice trembling, "I know what I should
do if it comes to the worst."
She meant that she would kill herself.
They were in danger of being sold off or used as their kidnappers pleased.
That was usually what happened to kidnapped children. To be treated like
that, as a child of nobility, was nothing but disgraceful. Death would be a
preferable fate in order to protect the honor of your house.
Charlotte was determined not to let it come to that. Especially not for
Lecia. If not herself, she wanted her friend to escape, at least.
The carriage moved on, and eventually they arrived at Count Gaston's
estate.
Charlotte recognized it at once, the extravagant building still etched into
her memory from the night of the party. Alighting from the carriage, they
passed the gate and followed the path to the mansion, moving past lines of
bronze statues by famous sculptors and toward the tiled terrace—still
furnished for abundant company—where the scent of roses surrounded them.
"Does this mean that the man who hired you is—"
"Quiet. Just follow us."
The pair were led to the guest room, where they were invited to sit down
on the sofa. A servant appeared shortly to serve them tea. There were tea
cakes piled high on the table in front of them, as though they were completely
ordinary guests.
Charlotte was slowly starting to realize just what was going on. Judging
by the nervous look on Lecia's face, she knew too.
After a brief wait, a single man entered the room. With his silk jacket and
golden hair, he exuded an air of great importance.
"Marquess Gaston..."
"I must apologize for bringing you two ladies here in the way that I did,"
he began.
Despite his words, he didn't look sorry in the least. He was completely
composed, and it was clear his apology was wholly a formality.
"How do you do, My Lord," Charlotte said. "If I might be so bold, to what
do we owe this pleasure?"
"Firstly, I have some gifts I would like to share with you, by way of apology."
"I intend to report this to my father," Charlotte told him.
"Of course. Do as you wish."
She tried to make her tone as icy as possible, but the marquess simply
brushed off her words with a warm smile.
"Your Lordship seems utterly unconcerned," she remarked.
"Of course. Something like this is unlikely to affect the good relationship
I have with your father."
"I suppose not..."
"This is how you play politics. I suggest you start taking notes." Cutting
himself a cigar, Gaston took three deep drags.
It was clear that he expected no consequences from his actions
whatsoever. If he was bluffing, it was an elaborate, long shot bluff. Nobody
witnessed the kidnapping itself, and now he was treating Lecia and Charlotte
as guests. For him, it would be a simple matter of claiming that he was saving
the girls from danger, and that they were just mistaken as to what the source
of that danger was. Sending them home with gifts would be even more
evidence to corroborate his version of events. Charlotte's father might even
thank him for it.
Even if the existence of the kidnappers was discovered, Gaston could
claim that they were moving of their own accord. There was probably no
evidence of their connection to Gaston anymore, if it even existed in the first
place. The marquess was certainly powerful enough to make that happen.
"I suspect you two already have an inkling of why I've brought you here."
Gaston looked from Lecia to Charlotte and back again.
Lecia was perfectly composed as she responded. "Why?"
"You cannot outwit me, Miss Lecia. I already know you have them by the
way you are conducting yourself now. And by 'them,' I presume you know
what I mean."
"The documents?"
"Well, yes. If documents were all you had, I wouldn't need to do this.
However, it is the ledger which I really need returned to me." Gaston paused.
"If you wouldn't mind."
"I do not have it with me," said Lecia.
"Then allow me to ask you something. Have you given it to somebody
else? A surveillance officer, for instance?"
Lecia didn't respond. Instead, she returned Gaston's stare evenly. If she
came clean, she would be betraying her code of honor. Once it was clear she
wasn't going to answer, the marquess let out an exasperated sigh.
"I do not want this to be more of an issue than it needs to be. As long as
you return the documents and the ledger, all shall be well."
In other words, if she didn't, things might end up much less than "well"
for her. But still Lecia remained silent. She wasn't about to give in without a
fight. The moment she discovered the contents of that bag, her pride as a
noble took over. She was raised with a strong sense of integrity, and her
silence screamed that she was not going to allow it to break. It was that
integrity that allowed her to keep strong under Gaston's pressure.
"It seems you're unwilling to deal with me. But no matter. I planned
ahead for this sort of response. Come!"
That final shout was not for Lecia, but for the kidnapper who had been
waiting behind the girls. At Gaston's command, he reached forward and
grabbed Charlotte's arm, who couldn't help but let out a shriek.
"Charlotte!"
"Careful." The man held a dagger to her throat.
So Gaston was planning to use her as a hostage. He looked at Lecia once
more.
"I shall ask you again. Where are the documents and the ledger? I'd
answer if I were you, if you do not wish harm upon Lady Charlotte."
"You do not have to tell him, Lecia. He is only bluffing! There is no way
that he shall—"
"This is no bluff. That man is completely under my command."
Charlotte felt the cool metal of the dagger against her throat now, where it
had been hovering a few inches away before. It was sharper than she
reckoned with; if she so much as twitched, the blade would pierce her skin.
"You shan't get away if you lay even a finger on me!" Charlotte warned.
"I can do what I like. It isn't as though there are any witnesses here, after
all."
Lecia turned her anxious gaze toward Charlotte. If Gaston was serious,
she was sure he was willing to go so far as to kill her. For Lecia now, it was
her values or the life of her friend. Lecia trembled as she struggled to
disentangle her rage from her sense of justice and her anxiety from her
confusion. After what seemed like an age, she looked down resignedly.
"I gave the bag with the evidence in it... to my brother," she finally
admitted.
"I see."
The marquess wasted no time in giving his next orders—orders which
were clearly targeting Arcus. The kidnapper let go of Charlotte.
"You two ladies will stay here until the bag is retrieved. Please excuse me,
Miss Lecia, but I'm going to have you gagged. I'm just taking precautions,
you understand."
With that, Gaston stepped out of the room.
Arcus sat in his room meditating, a practice he took up quite a while ago.
As he sat quietly with his eyes closed and his mind empty of thought, he was
interrupted by a servant at the door.
For any servant apart from Noah to come and see him was rare nowadays.
In Noah's absence, any matters that concerned Arcus were passed to him on
his return, which meant that this matter in particular likely could not wait.
The servant came bearing a single envelope. Arcus asked him about it, but
he claimed ignorance.
"I was just told to give this to you as soon as I could," he explained.
"Who delivered it?" Arcus pressed.
"All I can say is that they were dressed rather well."
The servant hadn't asked who the letter was from, and it didn't have any
kind of indication of its sender either. Surely the servant understood that it
was careless not to ask, but on the other hand, he likely knew that nobody
was going to punish him if he didn't. Arcus asked once more just to be sure,
but he received the exact same answer.
In any case, it was clear this was some kind of letter. But Craib was the
only one who sent Arcus letters like this...
"Where's Lecia?" Arcus asked.
"Miss Lecia is currently out."
"Okay. Thanks. You can go now."
The servant gave a quick bow before leaving the room. Arcus studied the
back of the envelope carefully, but there really was no hint of the sender to be
found.
He wondered at first whether it might be the man who passed the evidence
on to Lecia, but he dismissed the thought quickly. Such a letter would be sent to her, not him. Assuming this letter was unrelated to that, though, it was
strange that the deliverer made no attempt to identify themselves. Anxiety
began to gnaw at the pit of his stomach.
He arrived swiftly at the worst-case scenario.
Sitting at his desk, Arcus hurriedly slit the envelope with a letter opener.
Inside was a single letter confirming his worst fears.
Bring the items given to you by your sister to the specified location. Do
not tell your parents, or both girls will die.
"Goddammit!" Arcus slammed his fist down on the desk.
Lecia was the only one who knew he had the evidence, yet here was this
letter, addressed specifically to him. A letter threatening death. There was no
way this was from the man who originally passed on the bag to her, which
meant there was only one person it could be: the person who the evidence
threatened.
The marquess, Cau Gaston.
Arcus looked back at the letter.
"Both girls will die"... Who's the other girl?
Was there someone else with Lecia who was caught up in all of this?
Just then, there was a knock at the door. "May I come in, Master Arcus?"
called a voice from the other side.
"Sure. Go ahead, Noah."
The door opened to reveal Noah Ingvayne himself, bringing a citrusy
scent along with him.
As usual, he was dressed immaculately in his morning coat. His short,
indigo hair was well brushed, and his golden monocle was perfectly placed
on his handsome face. He gave a grateful bow before opening his mouth.
"I just ran into Jerry coming from your room. Did something happen?"
"He gave me this."
"A letter?" Noah asked.
Arcus nodded, flinging it toward him. The servant scanned it quickly
before looking up again.
"What is this all about?"
"When Lecia went to the marquess's party, she came back with something
she was told was evidence of his corruption."
Arcus pulled out the black bag he had hidden away as he continued to
explain to Noah. Once he was finished, Noah's eyebrows knitted in concern.
"Do you mean to say you were hiding something this significant from
me?"
"Yeah. I'm sorry. I never thought the marquess would find out."
He thought it would be fine; the servant would come to collect the
evidence, and that would be that. He hadn't reckoned with Gaston looking
into it before then.
"I shall keep my thoughts on that point to myself for now."
"Thanks."
"However, since Miss Lecia's involvement has been discovered, we can
assume that something already happened to the servant."
"Yeah, I guess so. Dammit..." Arcus grit his teeth in frustration.
Thanks to that servant getting Lecia involved, she was now in danger.
Whether the servant had ratted her out or Gaston had just made a lucky guess,
Arcus was furious.
"In any case, we know that Miss Lecia has been taken. Shall I inform your
parents?"
"Not yet, no."
"But Master Arcus, I do not believe the marquess would actually go
through with his threat."
"Yeah, I don't think so, either."
It would be absolutely unthinkable for the marquess to kill the viscount's
daughter. If that was really Gaston's intent, he would have needed to make
sure the Raythefts couldn't fight back first. Either that or he would have to
get rid of every last shred of evidence that he was involved in her death.
"I do believe that informing somebody of this would be the most prudent
course of action," Noah advised.
"Right. Could you tell Craib for me?"
Politically speaking, Craib was higher ranked than Joshua. He would be
more useful should things get ugly, and if Lecia's parents were informed,
then the entire estate would go into an uproar, which could prompt Gaston to
act.
The marquess had to be desperate if he'd already resorted to kidnapping.
Arcus suspected that the ledger was the most vital piece of evidence in his
possession right now.
"I'm going to meet them, Noah," Arcus added, gesturing to the letter.
"I doubt they are calling you out in good faith."
"I know. They'll probably grab me the moment they've got their hands on
the evidence."
"Yet you intend to meet them?" Noah pressed.
"Yeah, but I won't take the evidence with me."
Arcus had put some serious thought into his decision.
"What exactly are you planning, in that case?" Noah asked.
"I'll let them take me, and then I'll escape with Lecia and this other girl.
They probably don't realize that I'm a magician, too."
His assumption was made on the basis that even in a magically advanced
kingdom like Lainur, children usually didn't study magic before the age of
twelve at the very youngest. At ten years old, he was beneath consideration,
although they might be a little wary, since he came from a martial family.
"How about the possibility that you won't be able to reunite with them?"
"That's what Plan B is for. You'll be in charge of that, Noah. While I'm
doing all that and buying time, I want you to find out where at the marquess's
estate Lecia is being kept. You can do that, right?"
"Suppose I answered 'no.' You would ask me to do it anyway, wouldn't
you?"
"Bingo."
"What is... Never mind." Noah sighed. "You can be quite troublesome
sometimes, you know."
"I know. Anyway, when you've found Lecia—"
"I shall ask Craib to 'do his thing.'"
"Yup. It's not like he can storm in there without knowing where she is,
right?"
If they had no proof Lecia was in there at all, and someone as high
ranking as Craib broke in, there would be trouble—to put it very gently. They
needed two things. The first was information, and the second was time to
gather that information.
There was only so much Arcus could do to obtain those things. Whatever
happened, relying on someone with Craib's status was going to be his best
bet.
It won't end there, though...
That stark realization suddenly came to him. No matter what, Lecia's
safety was his top priority. But just saving her wouldn't be enough to end things once and for all. He had to come up with a way to settle everything
before he acted. Should he rescue Lecia and leave it at that? Or should he
expose the marquess for the corrupt official he was? Deep down, Arcus knew
that even that wouldn't be enough.
"Master Arcus?"
It was important to figure out the root of the problem. The ledger aside, it
shouldn't be a problem for a powerful man like Gaston to destroy the other
evidence which pointed toward his misdealings. The official who gathered
the evidence and passed it on to Lecia was likely someone from the
Surveillance Office. But in that case, he should have been aware of how
easily Gaston could destroy them, so why did he gather these documents in
the first place?
Making them public called for careful planning if it was to have any
meaningful effect on such a prominent social figure. The evidence needed to
be absolutely watertight for any accusation to have a chance of sticking.
Arcus was adamant that these documents were not enough for that, even
combined with the ledger.
The other issue was why the official acted when he did, despite the lack of
evidence. If he held out for longer, he might have gotten his hands on
something more concrete, but by stealing the documents when he did, he
threw that opportunity away. Perhaps he was just incompetent?
Not only that, but he identified Lecia as Joshua Raytheft's daughter and
handed the bag over to her, knowing who she was. Arcus had no idea where
to start with this question, and all these unknowns and suspicious individuals
were giving him the creeps. It was like they were crawling around every
corner, watching and waiting.
Maybe it was just his imagination, or maybe there was something more
going on that his instincts were trying to warn him about. All he knew was
that he didn't know.
"Noah. There's something else I want you to look into, if that's all right."
"My, you do know how to keep a man busy, don't you?"
"Not as much as Craib, I'm guessing."
"No, perhaps not. Yet." Noah sighed. This wasn't the first time he'd
voiced such a complaint.
Despite his grumblings, however, he never failed to do what Arcus asked
of him.
With every part of his plan to rescue Lecia firmly in place, Arcus headed
out to the location specified in the letter: a plaza within the capital.
Being quite a way away from the center of the city, this plaza in particular
saw almost no traffic and was bound to be deserted. Clouds lay thick in the
air today, blocking the sun enough that even the vampires in the tales from
the man's world might have ventured out during the afternoon.
An unfamiliar smell suddenly hit Arcus's nose as he approached. It was
somewhere between mold and sewage; either way, it wasn't pleasant. This
was doubtlessly one of the other reasons people avoided this place.
Still, Arcus stood there in the spotless outfit that Noah lent him. Mainly
blue and white in color, he had both a shirt and a jacket. With his cute, round
face, if only he wore a skirt and ribbon, you might even mistake him for his
sister.
There was a shortsword on his hip suitable for a child. In one hand he held
a black bag filled with the decoy evidence he prepared. Apart from those two
items, he had nothing else.
Arcus waited. After a short while, he heard something stir.
"So he came..."
Someone noticed him. The small noises he heard were the faint rustling of
clothes and footsteps on the cobbled path. The next moment, men approached
from every corner and alleyway leading onto the plaza. It wasn't just one or
two, either; there were a total of six. Before Arcus knew it, they had already
surrounded him. A particularly large man, one who Arcus could only assume
was their leader, stepped forward.
"Are you Arcus Raytheft?" he asked.
"Yes, I am," Arcus replied evenly. Though he hated showing even the
slightest bit of respect to these men—likely the same who kidnapped his
sister—he knew he had to play his part for now.
He had to pretend to be the perfectly-mannered, helpless noble son that he
wasn't. That was of the utmost importance right now.
He studied the group of men carefully. None of them looked like a good
sort. The leader didn't look quite so bad, but his hair was ungroomed, and
decent definitely wasn't a word which came to mind. Their clothes were
grimy; everything on them that was supposed to be white was instead a dingy
off-yellow
From their choice of arms, Arcus was convinced they weren't run-of-the-
mill alley-lurking bravos. Those scoundrels were usually armed with wooden
clubs or blackjacks bungled together from rocks and cloth. The more
dignified ones might have a dagger or knife on them.
The men in front of Arcus, however, were decked out with leather
shoulder pads, shin guards, swords, and metal maces. They were dressed like
the bouncers you'd find in a pub on the city's outskirts. Though every man
was equipped differently, they moved as one.
Are they mercenaries, perhaps? Arcus wondered.
It was common to see sellswords passing through the capital. These guys
certainly weren't ordinary soldiers, but at the same time, they looked like
they knew this area well. Seeing how they were comfortable working in a
group, Arcus was confident in his deduction.
It was likely that they were a group loyal to the marquess, who in turn was
ready to cut them off at any time.
Just then, the leader turned around, as though indicating that they were
moving on.
"Follow us."
"W-Wait!"
"Huh?"
The man turned around. Meanwhile, Arcus had unsheathed his sword and
was pointing it toward him.
"Where's my sister! Give her back!" he demanded.
The man instantly burst into laughter.
"Fancy yourself a swordsman, little man? Still, you've got guts, but your
posture's all wrong!"
He was right: Arcus was slouching. With his neat clothes and poor
posture, he must have looked like a coddled noble boy unused to fighting.
And that was exactly what he wanted.
He wasn't intending to fight these men here right now. All he wanted was
to feign some resistance and give off the impression that he didn't stand a
chance against them, should it come to it.
Arcus approached the man completely unguarded, with his sword still
pointing out toward him. He was careful not to use any of the stances he
learned in his fencing training. Leaving himself totally defenseless, he was
quickly sent sprawling, and his sword clattered across the cobblestones.
"Oof!"
"See? A kid like you can't do anything against us!"
"N-No!" Arcus lamented, careful to show frustration on his face. "I-If
only I could use magic!"
At the word "magic," something in the leader's head seemed to click.
"Oh, yeah. I heard the Raythefts' son was useless."
Arcus groaned. It had nothing to do with his act this time, though. Just
how far had the rumors about him spread, that these oddballs knew about
him? Although, given how much Joshua and Celine loved to talk about
themselves, it probably wasn't a difficult rumor to overhear.
Arcus rearranged his disgruntled features into a pleading look before
thrusting his hand out toward the man.
"F-Fire! U-Um... Go! Fire!"
"Ooh, call that magic?" the leader guffawed. "Think you could get me a
rabbit from a hat next?"
His laughter was echoed by the men standing around him.
The next moment, Arcus was seized. He allowed himself a hidden sigh of
relief that everything had gone to plan.
Humans were easy to understand if you broke it down. They tended to
believe what they wanted to and favor information that confirmed their
biases. Arcus showed them that he was a weak little boy with no hope of
using magic, and they were now unlikely to change their view on that.
"Is this what he asked for?"
Arcus heard the men whispering behind him.
"They look like documents to me, yeah. I think that should be it."
He looked over his shoulder to see one of the mercenaries opening up the
black bag and checking the contents. It didn't sound like he could read. The
bag was full of page after page of complete drivel. Arcus made them in a
hurry, worried that it would be suspicious if he took too long, but fortunately
they were doing their job.
The mercenaries took Arcus to a nearby waiting carriage. After a short
journey, they stopped in front of an extravagant estate, which must have
belonged to the marquess. The entire building was covered in gold, and the
perfectly landscaped garden was filled with large, carefully placed trees.
Stone statues and golden fountains sat around the house's perimeter.
The first word that came to mind was "gaudy." Arcus cringed as he surveyed his surroundings out of the corner of his eye, and the men led him
into the estate and to a certain room. It appeared to be a storage space—a far
cry from any sort of guest room.
Lecia wasn't there. It was annoying, to say the least, but Arcus planned
for this.
"Did you get him?"
"Yes, Milord!" cried out the heavy-set leader.
The man who entered the room then was incredibly well-dressed. In fact,
he was too well-dressed. He gave off an imposing air even next to the
muscular mercenary; he was as ridiculously tall as Craib.
He must have been Cau Gaston himself. He was just as Noah described
him.
He didn't look like the sort of penny-pinching rat that you might expect,
thinking of a white-collar crook. The way he walked, stood, and conducted
himself had a certain dignity about it, and not one that could be dismissed
easily.
He did look like a villain in his own way, but Arcus would be more
inclined to refer to him as an "evil mastermind." In any case, he was certain
this man was not good news. The marquess approached him, and he almost
found himself having to take a step back to accommodate his overwhelming
presence.
Was this what the people at the very top were like? It seemed that these
sorts of people (in this world at least) had so much dignity and overbearing
personality that it was almost tangible, and only moreso the higher up the
ranks you got.
"Are you Arcus Raytheft?" Gaston asked.
"That's right. You must be Lord Cau Gaston."
"Indeed I am! And I don't suppose I have any need to hide it."
"In that case, Your Lordship must be the one who sent that letter."
Gaston simply nodded in response, as though he felt a full explanation
would be too troublesome.
"Is my sister safe? Please, let her go!"
"Is that the ledger?" Gaston turned his gaze toward the black bag in the
mercenary's hand, who held it out to him immediately. Gaston examined the
contents. "This isn't what I asked for. I believe I asked you to bring the
evidence your sister gave to you."
Arcus didn't respond.
"Where is it? Answer me."
"The official already took it back."
Gaston didn't even flinch. Instead, a faint smile rose to his lips.
"Commendable effort, my boy. But if that were true, you would have no
reason to even be here."
He was right. If the official had the evidence, there was no need for Arcus
to risk showing up just to get himself captured.
"Tell me where it is. Otherwise, you'll only have yourself to blame for
what happens to your sister."
As Arcus was expecting, the marquess moved on to threatening Lecia.
Completely standard practice for someone who had taken a hostage. Arcus
saw it all the time in period dramas from the man's world.
"I left the real evidence at home," Arcus said.
"Is there anyone else who knows it's there?"
"No. I hid it behind my closet," he lied.
"Oho."
Apparently having grown tired of the conversation the moment he had
what he wanted, Gaston turned around. He began to mutter to himself, and it
sounded like he was trying to work out how to retrieve the evidence. Arcus
decided now was a good time to pour on more of his feeble-noble-boy act.
"Please, let my sister go! Then I promise I'll give you the evidence!"
"No. I cannot hand her over without being sure what you have is real."
"P-Please..."
"This is your own fault. If you had brought the evidence with you, I
would gladly have returned Miss Lecia to you. You've already worked to
fool me once! I am not going to let it happen again!"
Gaston doubled down. Words alone wouldn't be enough to get Lecia
back. By blaming Arcus for everything, he was probably hoping to weaken
his resolve. Playing along, Arcus made a show of hanging his head.
"Milord, what should I do with the boy?" the mercenary asked.
"Take him away. I have no use for him now."
"Should I take him to where the girls are?"
Arcus's breath caught in his throat. Meeting up with them was the biggest
part of Plan A. At the very least, it would allow him to ensure Lecia's safety.
After that, he could simply wait for his chance to break his cover and escape.
He already had a portfolio of spells in mind. In his dream, he learned
about the refraction of light, which gave him the knowledge needed to create
an invisibility spell. He also had a spell that would send his opponent straight
to sleep. Though neither of their effects lasted very long, there was no doubt
they would come in handy.
If things got ugly, he could always use his Black Ammo to drive enemies
off or his fire magic to set the place alight.
He had a bevy of tools he could use in their escape. Unfortunately for
him, it didn't look like things were about to go his way.
"Yes, take... No, wait."
"What's the matter, Milord?"
Gaston didn't reply immediately, instead stroking his chin and narrowing
his eyes thoughtfully. He then slowly turned around.
"Take him to the Holy Tower, just in case. I shall sort out the paperwork."
"Huh?!"
"What?!" Arcus gasped at the same time.
Why wasn't Gaston keeping him here in the estate? Fortunately for Arcus,
the mercenary seemed just as confused as he was.
"But why, My Lord? I understand if Your Lordship wishes to keep him
apart from the girls, but in that case, I can take him to another room in the
estate. But to take him to the Tower..."
"He is a Raytheft," Gaston said, "and they are a martial family. It never
hurts to be safe."
"Is Your Lordship worried he will try and escape? I've seen him holding a
sword, and he's useless! He can't use magic, either. I thought he was famous
among the upper classes for his lack of skill."
"Indeed. However, I do not wish to take the chance that it was all an act."
Gaston's gaze slid from the confused mercenary to meet Arcus's eyes.
He bent over, peering at him carefully. Arcus stared back at him as his
face got closer. There was something in those eyes that sent a shiver down his
spine. It was like the marquess could read his every thought. Anxiety gripped
and curled around the boy's every limb.
This was it. The overbearing presence peculiar to the upper noble classes.
Beads of sweat started forming on Arcus's neck as Gaston made him realize
just who he was dealing with here.
"I think Your Lordship might be overthinking things. It doesn't look to me like he's hiding any special sword or magic skills. Plus, he's a kid. I could
just gag him and be done with it."
"Enough. Take him to the Tower. That's an order."
"All right, Milord. Come on then, you." The mercenary began to pull
Arcus along, who stumbled after him.
He couldn't believe he was being sent to the Holy Tower. From what he
heard, it was a prison for magicians who committed crimes in the capital.
There were anti-magic measures in place, and escape was said to be
impossible, thanks to its famous impenetrable guard.
"What then, Milord? If the evidence is at the Raythefts' place, it'll be hard
to take back."
Gaston would need a very good excuse indeed to search another noble's
estate. It wouldn't be an easy matter to sneak in, either. Their estate held all
sorts of documents pertaining to the kingdom's military affairs, and as such,
security was tight. This mercenary could have fought a hundred battles, and
Arcus would still bet he couldn't break in.
"Yes, it is certainly a troublesome matter," Gaston said with a sigh. "I
suppose I would like you to go and see how things are first. I'm sure they are
losing their heads with both children missing. Then, assuming they are not
working to do anything against me..."
"What then?"
"We shall leave them be. It would mean that none of them suspects me,
after all. When things have quieted down a bit, we can send someone in
undercover."
"What about the girls, Milord?"
"It is best that we get rid of them, just as planned."
"Hey!" Arcus couldn't let that last remark slide.
Gaston looked at him over his shoulder.
"Are you insane? I know viscounts aren't exactly top of the pecking order,
but they're still noble kids, you know!"
"Exactly. It is not unusual for children of such status to go missing."
"Are you serious?"
"Yes," Gaston replied airily.
"Just because you make them 'disappear' doesn't mean people won't
catch on to what you've done! The Raythefts are a powerful martial family!
As soon as they look into this, they'll find out what happened right away!"
"The Raythefts shall do diddly squat. Everything will go according to
plan."
"How are you so confident?"
"Listen to me, young man. This world is run entirely by money. Money
can buy you loyalty and sweep almost any sin imaginable under the
proverbial rug."
"So that's it? You think money can solve anything?" Arcus pressed.
"I do not think. I know. Society works based on who has less and who has
more. And as long as you have money, you can buy as much affection and as
many adoring fans as you want."
He was insane, which was exactly why Arcus was so afraid right now. He
had to do something. Anything.
"Come on now, don't squirm," said the mercenary.
The next thing Arcus knew, something hard collided with his head, and
then everything around him went dark.
Some time had passed since Arcus was knocked out, but Lecia and
Charlotte knew nothing of those events. They were still on the sofa in the
guest room with their hands tied behind their back and their weapons taken
by one of Gaston's men. Nobody was there to guard them, and so they were
completely alone.
How careless, thought Charlotte, most people would be much more
careful, even with regular hostages.
Having tied them both and gagged Lecia, they probably thought it would
be no problem leaving them unguarded. Although, with their weapons taken,
there was no way for Charlotte to cut her own rope, let alone take the gag out
of Lecia's mouth.
"Lecia, are you all right?"
Lecia could only nod in response, although there was a slight glint of guilt
in her eyes. Considering her serious personality, she likely blamed herself for
all of this.
"This is not your fault, Lecia," Charlotte said gently. "It is the marquess's
fault..."
Who should enter the room at that moment, but the man himself?
Charlotte stiffened, wondering what he was after now. Gaston smiled
slightly.
"I apologize for the wait. However, everything looks like it will settle
soon."
Meaning that he wasn't finished with them just yet. Assuming he already
met with Arcus, that could only mean one thing.
"Does Your Lordship mean to say that Arcus did not bring the evidence?"
Charlotte asked.
"You are certainly sharp, My Lady. Just as you suspect, the boy did not
supply what I asked of him."
"In that case, where is he?"
"He was starting to misbehave, so I had him put to sleep. Afterward, he
shall be sent to the Tower."
"Th-The Tower?!"
Could he mean the Holy Tower? But why would he send someone like
Arcus to a place full of criminals? He was only a child!
"But Your Lordship cannot possibly send a noble child to a place like that
without good reason! The viscount will surely..." Charlotte trailed off.
"Oh? What would the viscount do? Personally, I believe he shan't lift a
finger. Everybody knows he has shunned his own son. In fact, he shall
probably think I am doing him a service."
"He..." Charlotte began, but she couldn't think of anything else to say.
She looked at Lecia, who was staring at the floor. That alone told
Charlotte that her friend agreed with what Gaston was saying. She already
knew Joshua did not look kindly on his son in the least.
At that moment, the door to the guest room opened. There was the lead
mercenary with his broadsword. Immediately on entering, he bowed deeply.
"Pardon the intrusion, Milord."
"What is it?" Gaston asked.
"I've finished the arrangements to have the kid sent to the Tower."
"Ah. Good."
The mercenary then turned to the girls and walked until he was standing
right in front of Lecia. He grinned down at her nastily.
"Your brother was real entertaining when I was capturing him. He tried to
threaten me with his sword, even though it was clear he had no idea what he
was doing. You should've heard him whimpering!"
The mercenary carried on, taunting Lecia by rattling off insults about her
brother. About how he tried to fight with a sword he didn't know how to use.
How he gave in the moment it was clear he couldn't win. How it was the first
time the mercenary had seen such a pathetic kid.
Lecia glared up at him, her cheeks pinkening with rage as he continued to
talk poorly of the brother she respected so much. It only seemed to spur him
on, causing his mocking smile to twist further.
Lecia had spoken before of how hardworking Arcus was and his
impressive command of magic, but listening to this man speaking now,
Charlotte was convinced it was all just her bias talking. While it was brave of
him to come and meet the marquess alone with fake evidence in hand, he was
caught in the end anyway, making the whole thing meaningless.
"And he can't even use magic, even though he's from a martial family!
You should've heard him!" The mercenary put on a squeaky voice. "Fire! Go
fire!"
His crude laugh bounced off the walls.
Charlotte was confused. According to Lecia, Arcus was able to use magic.
In fact, she claimed he was even able to use Flamlarune, a spell inspired by
those usually reserved for the battlefield.
Somebody in the equation was lying, and Charlotte had a hard time
believing it was Lecia, who was always such an honest girl. So what was
going on? She didn't have time to think any more deeply into the matter
before Gaston brought his face close to Lecia's.
"Miss Lecia. Is your brother really as talentless as everybody says?" he
asked sternly.
So he was suspicious, too. With the gag in her mouth, Lecia was unable to
respond. She simply met his gaze evenly.
"Your Lordship really is wary of him."
"I am more concerned about the attitude he displayed," Gaston said.
"His attitude?"
"Let me ask you something. When you captured the boy, he was docile
and as naive as any other noble child. Correct?"
"That's right, Milord. It was like he'd barely set foot out of his own house
before."
"However, when you brought him to me, he wasn't the least bit afraid."
"Huh? Why would he be scared, Milord?"
"Back then, I was doing all I could to intimidate him, and yet he was able
to keep up with the conversation without even batting an eyelid."
Charlotte knew just how intimidating Cau Gaston could be. It wasn't just
his size, but the dignity that he built around himself as one of the most
powerful figures in the entire kingdom. Even a fully-armed soldier might
have trouble standing up to him. While he would be no match for the head of
a martial family, a child was a different matter.
Gaston brought his hand to his chin in thought.
"Remember, too, how quickly his demeanor changed when I suggested
sending him somewhere else."
"Oh... that's right!"
"He didn't falter at all when I told him I was not going to return his sister,
but everything changed when I said I was putting him somewhere else. It is
almost as if I ruined some plan of his."
"Is that why Your Lordship said he was being sent to the Tower?"
"That wasn't the only reason. I simply did not want him to be able to meet
with the girls, should that have been his aim."
"I don't know, Milord, that seems a bit too paranoid to me. He's only a
kid. Of course he'd be unpredictable. He probably just didn't react at first
because he knew there was nothing he could do. I honestly don't think he's
hiding anything at all."
"I should hope he isn't," said Gaston, staring out of the window. But his
gaze showed that he didn't agree with the mercenary.
The window looked out onto the royal castle at the capital's center. What
was going through the marquess's head as he studied it? Luckily, the
mercenary was there to ask the question on Charlotte's behalf.
"Is something the matter, Milord?" he asked, frowning in confusion.
"A question. Have you ever met a terrifying child?"
"A terrifying child?"
"I have. The crown prince," Gaston said.
"Oh, I've heard about him! They say he's a genius."
"They do indeed."
The Prince of Lainur. Though he was around Charlotte's age, they said he
was the greatest genius that the kingdom had ever seen.
It was common for the royal family to make a spectacle of praising the
newborn heir to the throne. They said he was a "genius," blessed by divine
spirits, and more powerful than any mythical beast. Usually, such hyperbolic
language would be used to send a message of the royal family's power to both those within and without the kingdom, but since the royals themselves
were already incredibly strong, it was unlikely to be an exaggeration.
The marquess turned back to address the room.
"Neither Lady Charlotte nor Miss Lecia act as typical children their age
do because of their noble upbringing. Any child can be made to behave like
they do if educated from a young age. But the prince is different. He is an
open-minded, determined young man, and it is not something that has been
forced upon him. He is dignified far beyond his years, even though he is only
around ten or so. Speaking with His Royal Highness is like speaking with one
my own age."
"He's still human though, isn't he?"
"It is easy to say that if you have never met him. Easy to say that, no
matter how powerful the royal family, they are still flesh and blood like the
rest of us. That the only reason people fear them is because of their status.
But they are not like us. They are not human. They are leaders—a different
race entirely." A single bead of sweat rolled down the marquess's cheek.
"What about the King then, Milord?" the mercenary asked.
"I would advise you not to speak of His Majesty nor his son so casually,"
Gaston rebuked, his expression grim with fear.
Just how powerful was the prince, to be able to have the marquess shaking
in his boots like this?
"I have spent days wondering just what His Royal Highness hides beneath
that exterior of his. And yet, after all that thinking, I have found no answer
but gaping darkness."
"Pardon me, Milord, but where is all this coming from?"
"Because I sensed something very similar from young Arcus Raytheft.
That isn't to say he compares to His Royal Highness, but he was similar.
When I spoke with him, it was almost as though I wasn't speaking with a
child at all."
The words escaped on a sigh from his lips. But then the marquess changed
course, instead peering down at Charlotte. His face was completely
expressionless now, and it sent a chill down her spine.
"Since it has come to this, I shall have the two of you die for me, and I
may do it rather soon. I do hope you understand."
It was the final threat that Charlotte was expecting all this time.