Whatever had caused the Tower Master to let that slip, it didn’t matter — this was an opportunity. An opportunity to tip the scales in favor of House Arachrene.
“I-I need to go back to Father for a bit!”
“What? Riersha, at least tell me what’s going on before you run off! What is it?!”
Riscal shouted after Riersha’s retreating back.
“Oppas, go on ahead without me! I’ll explain later!”
Riersha glanced over her shoulder, waved her hand in a wide, breezy arc, then turned forward again and broke into a purposeful stride.
⁂
Arcmund’s study.
Pernoa had just finished relaying the entirety of his conversation with Sion Senuart.
When he mentioned that the Tower Master’s attendant was currently conducting a covert investigation inside House Arachrene, Arcmund’s expression turned grave.
“Have you handed over the original?”
“Not yet. I told him to wait — that I needed to inform Your Grace of the situation first.”
It meant he had bought himself a sliver of time before the document changed hands.
“So what do you intend to do?”
“I’m still deliberating.”
“…You’re still deliberating over this?”
Arcmund had assumed his son would simply hand it over. He stared at him, expression caught somewhere between bafflement and exasperation. A moment passed before he spoke again, his voice flat.
“You’re well aware of how much trouble it is to become entangled with black magic.”
“I am.”
“Even members of the imperial family are executed without exception when black magic is involved. …You know that too, I assume?”
Despite the words coming out of his mouth, Arcmund couldn’t help feeling that the young man standing before him understood none of it — not really.
A quiet suspicion began to take root: Has my son always been this dim?
Pernoa, reading his father’s thoughts with unsettling accuracy, let a flicker of displeasure cross his face.
“Do you truly think I don’t know that?”
“You’re behaving as though you don’t, which is precisely why I’m asking. The imperial family and the temple will both be aware of this matter, and they’ll be eager to sink their teeth into anything they can. So why hand them a reason to do exactly that?”
This was what concerned Arcmund most. And with no clear justification to speak of, he felt as though his chest might split open from sheer frustration.
Then Pernoa gave a quiet, humorless smirk.
“Actually — the imperial family and the temple don’t know yet.”
“They don’t know?”
Arcmund’s entire bearing shifted in an instant.
Because if that was true, the situation was entirely different.
“The Tower Master is concealing something. He even let it drop — deliberately, it seemed — that he had shaken off the temple’s tracking before coming here.”
“Are you saying the tower is moving on its own, without authorization?”
“Most likely.”
Pernoa tilted his head slightly.
“Doesn’t something smell rotten to you?”
Arcmund’s face went cold and still. His scarlet eyes glinted with a sharp, dangerous light.
“Yes. If what you’re saying is true, the tower is clearly hiding something it’s ashamed of.”
They wanted this handled quietly — without the knowledge of the imperial family or the temple.
But the reason remained unclear.
Silence settled over the study once more.
Then — bang — the door swung open.
“Appa! Grandpa!”
“Riersha? …Didn’t you leave for the castle a while ago? I thought I told you to stay close to your dedicated knight while there are outsiders moving about the grounds.”
“That’s… well, there’s something I really wanted to tell you both.”
Riersha glanced nervously between them, catching the edge in Pernoa’s tone.
“Come then. Tell us.”
Arcmund patted the cushion beside him.
Riersha scurried over and dropped herself onto the plush sofa without ceremony.
Pernoa exhaled slowly.
“What did you come to say?”
“Do you think the Mage Tower might be connected to the black magic?”
“…You think the tower is involved in this?”
“Yes.”
Riersha nodded.
It was only speculation, but she had decided she would say what she was thinking.
“The Mage Tower is the organization that oversees black magic, isn’t it?”
“Go on.”
“And the spell formula that turned up — you said it was related to black magic.”
The moment they understood where Riersha was going, both Pernoa and Arcmund’s eyes went wide.
She was suggesting that whoever had supplied the formula was someone connected to the Mage Tower.
And that Sion Senuart, the Tower Master himself, had come here in secret to clean up the mess.
“So that’s why he let it slip on purpose. All that talk about shaking off the temple’s trail — it was deliberate.”
They had nearly been played perfectly.
“…He said that on purpose?”
Riersha, who had taken it for a careless slip of the tongue, blinked slowly.
“If it came out that the tower had been conducting a secret investigation into black magic — without the knowledge of the imperial family or the temple — their position would become untenable. So they’re hoping we’ll catch on and quietly put a stop to it ourselves.”
“And in the meantime, anything incriminating that links them to the black magic gets swept away without a trace.”
Which meant…
Pernoa’s scarlet eyes snapped toward the direction of the underground prison beneath the estate.
“The Tower Master came here to kill Ian Charlotte.”
To prevent the truth from surfacing — that someone within the Mage Tower had leaked the black magic formula.
Riersha’s mouth fell open.
That’s a disaster.
If Ian Charlotte died, the only person who could testify to the Empress’s crimes would be gone entirely.
“It’s clear now. Why she was so unnervingly at ease.”
No matter how strong a person was, the thought of spending the rest of their life in an underground prison should have been enough to break them with fear.
And yet she had been far too calm…
Ian Charlotte had known all along. She had known that someday, the tower would come to silence her.
“Then what will you do, Pernoa?”
If they raised an objection to the tower now, it would open a path to investigate the formula through other means.
Arcmund posed the question — and Riersha thrust her hand straight into the air.
Both men turned to look at her at the same time.
“I have a good idea!”
Riersha grinned.
⁂
Sion Senuart walked through the underground prison beneath Arachrene’s main estate.
Beside him was Basen, who had accompanied him as his attendant.
Basen cast a wary glance around the grim, lightless corridors and gave an involuntary shudder.
The Mage Tower was hardly a cheerful place itself, but this was something else entirely.
He stole a sideways look at Sion, who moved through it all without any apparent discomfort, and spoke with a worried expression.
“Tower Master. Are we really all right doing this? What if something goes wrong? If anyone finds out we’re here right now…”
“That’s why I let the information slip in the first place.”
“…And if the young lord doesn’t move the way you expect?”
“He has no choice but to move.”
Even for House Arachrene, drawing the scrutiny of both the imperial family and the temple would be a considerable burden.
And they couldn’t afford to raise this matter through official channels.
They’ll want today resolved as quietly as possible.
Sion was certain of it.
He kept his gaze fixed straight ahead as he spoke.
In the dark, his violet eyes glowed with a faint, eerie luminescence.
He didn’t know the layout of the underground prison. Instead, he was navigating by extending his magic to sense the objects around him.
“Have you thought about how we’re going to find the rat?”
“I’ve been narrowing down which mages had access to the archive where the black magic was stored recently, but…”
“No trace of the rat we’re looking for?”
“None, sir.”
Sion gave a quiet, humorless laugh.
A clever little rat, this one.
They had engineered the situation into something that forced even the Tower Master to step out personally — and then slipped away without leaving a single trace.
“If I ever catch them, I’ll make sure they wish they could just die.”
Sion said it pleasantly, as if remarking on the weather.
Basen flinched. Because with Sion Senuart, words that sounded like jokes were almost always completely sincere.
“What do you suppose was the reason behind commissioning a black magic spell to alter one’s appearance?”
“How would I know.”
“…”
“They must have wanted it badly enough.”
Sion replied with perfect indifference.
The why didn’t interest him in the slightest.
His steps slowed, then stopped.
“Here.”
Ian Charlotte was behind this door.
Sion reached for the door with his magic, intending to release the lock.
That was when it happened.
Ting —
His magic rebounded, as if something had deflected it.
“…What?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Wait a moment. Let me try again.”
His pride stung, Sion raised his magic a second time.
At that same instant, he felt it — a presence, directly behind him.
Someone who had stayed completely outside the reach of his magic detection until now.
It had been a very long time since anyone had managed to tail him.
Sion’s expression hardened.
He turned around slowly.
There, standing in the dim corridor with an expression of perfectly guileless innocence, was a small child.
Did she just block my magic?
Riersha Arachrene.
The youngest daughter of the ducal house — the one who had recently awakened her power and been recognized as the family’s heir.
“Hello there. What are you two doing down here? This is a restricted area. Outside visitors aren’t allowed.”
