Riersha buried herself in Pernoa’s arms and stayed there.
When the trembling finally stopped, she looked out the window again. The cloud of dust and dirt had cleared.
What exactly had happened out there?
She had no way of knowing who had been facing off against whom.
But given that there had been some kind of physical clash, one thing seemed certain — whoever it was had not been invited.
“I’d like to know who had the nerve to come marching through the front gate in broad daylight,” Pernoa said, clicking his tongue with an expression of pure annoyance.
“Who’s out there right now, Father?” Risideon asked.
It was just as he spoke that something appeared beyond the settling dust — a massive dragon, soaring through the sky.
Riersha gasped when she saw it.
“Yong-yongie?!”
“…Yong-yongie?”
Riscal stared at the draconic wyrm Riersha was pointing at, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and bewilderment.
He had never seen the creature in person before, but he knew it belonged to Haydin, one of Arachrene’s legion commanders. It was also one of the symbols that marked the commanders of the Arachrene legions.
“Why are you calling it Yong-yongie?”
“It’s the widdle Yong-yongie. But why did it get so biiiig?”
Riersha held up her hands to show the size she meant — just about big enough for a child to cradle comfortably in their arms.
What was hovering out there, however, was a Yong-yongie several hundred times that size.
“That’s its true form, Riersha.”
Pernoa had a good enough idea of what must have passed between Haydin and Riersha, even without being told. A faint smile tugged at his lips. He turned to Carden.
“I’ll go out and see to this myself. Continue the lesson.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Carden acknowledged the order and stood waiting, blinking patiently, to see when exactly Pernoa intended to set Riersha down.
Pernoa simply walked toward the door — Riersha still in his arms.
Risideon stared after him, incredulous.
“…Father. Are you taking Riersha with you?”
“If I’m not there, she might grow anxious again. She’s safest right here with me.”
“…”
“Why aren’t you saying anything?”
“It’s nothing, my lord. Please, go on ahead.”
Carden stepped in to answer, offering a pleasant smile.
⁂
The main gate of Arachrene’s central keep.
As the dust settled, two figures came into view — Haydin, standing atop his wyrm, and before him, a man draped in a robe.
Haydin’s eyes narrowed as he took in the sight of the intruder standing on both feet without a scratch on him.
He had clearly seen the wyrm’s tail strike the man dead-on. Yet there wasn’t a single mark on him.
“…cough.”
A moment later, the man began waving the dust away from his face and broke into a theatrical fit of coughing.
“Cough, cough! Goodness. My heart. I genuinely thought I was going to die just now.”
“Who are you.”
Haydin studied the man carefully. Black hair. Violet eyes. And a lavishly decorated robe adorned with golden embroidery carved in the crest of the Mage Tower.
Putting those details together, there was only one conclusion.
The Mage Tower.
It wasn’t difficult for Haydin to work out where the man had come from.
Has the Duke or the Young Lord scheduled any meetings with the Mage Tower recently?
He hadn’t been informed of any such thing.
“And what brings someone from the Mage Tower to our Duke’s household?”
“If you already know where I’m from, couldn’t you at least put that wyrm away? I’m a little frightened here.”
“Ha.”
Haydin let out a short, humorless laugh, his eyes narrowing further.
Frightened?
He certainly didn’t look it. The man appeared entirely too at ease for someone who’d just been on the receiving end of a wyrm’s tail.
“I already explained my reasons — I came to see the Young Lord of Arachrene. I told you that earlier. Besides, I happen to have a deep and profound aversion to reptiles.”
“…”
“Ah — wait, alright. I take back the reptile comment.”
The wyrm, which clearly understood human speech, opened its jaws in a display of displeasure. The man waved his hands frantically. What kind of Mage Tower mage acts like this?
I cannot let my guard down.
Because he had just witnessed with his own eyes the enormous magical power lurking beneath all that apparent foolishness.
“Please leave. It would be best if you made an appointment first and returned then.”
“I’m afraid that won’t do. I went through considerable trouble shaking off the Temple’s people to get here.”
“…”
“If you don’t mind them finding out I came to Arachrene, by all means, I’ll go.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Oh, come now. Threat sounds so harsh. Let’s call it a… negotiation.”
There was no point in listening further.
Haydin was preparing to strike again when a familiar voice cut through the air.
“That’s enough, Haydin.”
The main gate swung open. Haydin froze and turned around.
“My lord?”
“Stand down. He is not an opponent you can defeat. Fall back.”
Pernoa made a small motion with his eyes, and Haydin reluctantly drew back his magical energy.
Riersha clung to Pernoa’s neck and studied the stranger carefully.
He was a man with refined, striking features — and something peculiar about the air surrounding him.
On his index finger sat a ring that hummed with unusual magical energy. His robe was blinding in its extravagance.
Who is this man, that even Haydin can’t beat him?
She felt wariness rise in her instinctively.
The man’s eyes met hers, and his surprised expression softened at once into a bright smile.
“We meet again, Young Lord. Did you come out to greet me personally, with your daughter too? How flattering. I’ve wanted to meet the young lady I’ve been hearing so much about.”
The subject of rumors?
Riersha tilted her head.
“You gave no notice. What brings you to my home?”
Pernoa ignored the man’s remark and demanded the purpose of his visit. His crimson eyes fixed steadily on the man.
“Sion Senuart.”
Senuart.
At the sound of that name, Riersha’s mouth fell open.
Senuart was the sole surname bestowed exclusively upon the Master of the Mage Tower.
And Sion Senuart — that was the name of the current Tower’s eighth Master.
“You are the one who gave us a commission, if I’m not mistaken. So if you ask me why I’ve come — I’m not quite sure how to answer that.”
Sion smiled pleasantly.
Then he turned and gave a light, fluttery wave toward Riersha, who was still watching him with open suspicion. Everything about him seemed impossibly casual.
“Hello, little young lady. Our first meeting isn’t exactly ideal, but I’m not a strange person, I promise. You don’t have to be so wary of me.”
Riersha turned her head firmly in the opposite direction, away from Sion.
“Ah…”
“Let’s go inside.”
Pernoa gave a quiet, wry smile.
Sion lowered his hand, looking a little deflated.
⁂
The Young Lord’s study.
Riersha sat pressed directly against Pernoa’s side.
The adults drank fragrant tea brewed from loose leaves. Riersha held a cup of apple juice in both hands and drank it in small, careful sips. When she set the cup down on the table and looked up, she found Sion watching her with an expression of curious fascination.
She immediately turned her head away.
He was a strange man.
He had been paying her an uncomfortable amount of attention since the very beginning. Pernoa had noticed and warned him accordingly.
“That’s enough, Senuart.”
“Ah — no particular meaning behind it, I assure you.”
Sion lifted his shoulders in a light shrug.
He dropped his gaze from Riersha just as quickly. The last thing he needed was to invite suspicion or misunderstanding by drawing too much interest toward the Arachrene heir.
“Still… no matter how I look at her, she doesn’t seem much like the Young Lord’s daughter. …Ah, I’ll stop there.”
Pernoa fixed him with a sharp glare, and Sion raised both hands in surrender.
“So. Why has the Tower Master seen fit to come to my home in person?”
“Not exactly a warm welcome for a Tower Master’s personal visit, is it?”
“Is that supposed to be funny?”
Pernoa’s voice cut like a blade.
Sion’s expression went flat in an instant, all lightness gone from his face.
“The matter at hand warrants it.”
The easy, careless demeanor from before had vanished entirely.
Riersha had been listening to the exchange with a slight tilt of her head, and the reason was simple —
Father’s expression has gone cold.
Pernoa’s face had been hardening steadily since they sat down.
Come to think of it… the debate from Carden’s earlier lesson drifted back to her.
The Temple despises everyone who works with magical power.
That meant the Temple and the Mage Tower were always ready to tear each other apart at a moment’s notice.
And now the Tower Master — who the Temple despised above all — had come in person to visit Arachrene.
Riersha’s own expression grew taut.
She could tell, at least, that this was not a good situation.
“The little young lady really is sharp, isn’t she.”
Sion caught the shift in Riersha’s manner at once and looked at her with undisguised interest.
“There’s no need to worry too much. I shook off every Temple tracker before coming here.”
“Your reason for coming.”
Pernoa pressed for the real purpose of the visit, and Sion Senuart reached into the folds of his robe and withdrew a folded piece of paper.
What is that…?
Riersha stared at it intently.
It appeared to be the commission document that Arachrene had filed with the Mage Tower.
“I came to deliver our response regarding the commission you submitted to our Tower.”
“Oh? The Tower Master himself, for that?”
“Ha.”
Pernoa’s tone dripped with sarcasm. Sion’s expression went blank in a single heartbeat.
“Given the nature of the matter, it seemed appropriate.”
The lightness was gone. Not a trace of it remained.
“Our Mage Tower will be declining your commission. Furthermore, the spell formula you submitted to the Tower — we will not be returning it.”
