Past midnight.
The moment Oberon arrived in response to Riersha’s summons, the conversation began.
“There’s only one thing we want to know. What effect does the black magic you commissioned have — and who was it used on?”
The concern was that someone within the Arachrene estate itself might have been the target.
Pernoa stated what he wanted to know first. Sion stroked his chin in response. The longer he stalled, the more dangerous the atmosphere became, until Basen leaned in and whispered urgently into Sion’s ear.
“Just tell them everything, Tower Master. It’s not even that important. Nobody knows we came here — what happens if they don’t let us leave this manor?”
“…Don’t you trust me at all?”
“Then if something goes wrong, are you going to take me with you when you escape?”
Basen asked, his voice trembling on the verge of tears. Sion let out a long sigh and pressed a hand to his head.
At last, he turned to face the conversation in earnest.
“Before we answer, we have something we’d like to ask as well.”
“What is it?”
“Why are you only asking about the black magic? Aren’t you curious about anything else?”
“….”
“You seem exactly like someone who already knows everything else.”
It was a sharp, precise observation.
Pernoa let out a faint, amused laugh.
“And if I do know everything else?”
“Then we can’t just hand over information for free. It seems to be the only card we’re holding.”
“You don’t seem to realize what a disadvantaged position you’re in right now.”
The moment Pernoa’s irritation showed, Sion moved swiftly — and grabbed the hem of Riersha’s sleeve.
“…What do you think you’re doing?”
A killing edge crept into Pernoa’s voice. Oberon, too, fixed his gaze on Sion, watching him with quiet intensity.
The atmosphere turned razor-thin, as if one wrong move might shatter everything.
Riersha looked down at her captured sleeve, then up at Sion, bewildered.
The moment she met his violet eyes, those same eyes curved slowly — melting into the warmth of a smile.
“Miss Riersha, we’re on the same side right now. You’re supposed to protect me in times like these.”
“…Huh?”
“I know this looks incredibly pathetic. I’ve never been this undignified in my entire life… but I still have a great deal of work left to do out in the world.”
Even as he spoke, the tips of Sion’s ears flushed red — as if even he found himself embarrassing. And here everyone had assumed he was the most shameless man alive.
“…Den if you tell Papa evewything he’s asking, dat should settle it.”
“And then what?”
“…Haah. I’ll promise to send you both back alive.”
Pernoa answered with deliberate indifference.
Not that he had much of a choice — his opponent was the Tower Master, after all. He couldn’t lay a hand on him carelessly.
Sion’s face relaxed into a bright, open smile.
“Oh, then shall we make a deal?”
“….”
“We’ll tell you what the black magic commissioned by the Arachrene family does — and in exchange, the young lord tells us who truly commissioned it.”
“Fine.”
Pernoa tilted his head, gesturing for them to get on with it.
Riersha glanced down at her sleeve. Sion’s fingers were still curled around the fabric, refusing to let go.
He must be a lot more easily frightened than I thought.
Riersha wriggled her fingers.
Then she popped a cookie into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully.
Her eyes kept fluttering shut, but she still wanted to hear whatever was being said in this room.
“Hurwy up and tell dem. I’m sweepy.”
“Ah, right. Our young lady needs to get to bed soon.”
Sion smiled pleasantly and spoke as though it were nothing at all.
“The truth is, that black magic only alters outward appearance — so it isn’t particularly extraordinary as black magic goes.”
“It alters appearance? How is that different from ordinary transformation magic?”
“Well, it’s obviously different. It’s black magic, for one.”
Sion nodded as if the answer were self-evident.
“It requires materials from the target — hair, blood, that sort of thing. It’s mostly the kind of black magic sought out by… nobles or members of the imperial family when there’s a problem with their bloodline.”
At that, Riersha’s drowsiness vanished in an instant.
Pernoa’s expression had gone rigid and hard.
Only Sion remained smiling in that room — bright and unbothered as ever.
“That had better be the truth.”
Pernoa said.
“It isn’t a lie.”
The question had been directed at Sion, but the answer came from Oberon.
Sion looked faintly wounded.
“Why would I lie about something like this? Now then — it’s your turn to answer. Who truly commissioned it?”
“….”
“It’s an extremely important matter on our end. If someone is using that black magic to corrupt the bloodline of some noble house or the imperial family… we’d like to handle it quickly.”
⁂
At the heart of the Declair Empire’s capital, beyond the imperial palace, stood a handful of other institutions of high authority.
One of them was the Temple.
Those who followed the will of the Goddess.
And the one who led the Temple was none other than Pope Christia.
A man seated on the highest chair in the papal chamber — a chamber suffused with divine power — tilted his head to one side.
Resting on his lap was a snow-white divine beast.
The fox-like creature had been yawning lazily, but now it twisted away from the Pope’s reaching hand and hopped lightly to the floor.
A moment later, the door to the papal chamber opened and a priest stepped inside.
Christia didn’t even look up as the priest entered.
“Did you find them?”
“No. Their whereabouts are still unknown.”
“…Hm. Is that so? I was told the flow of magic was completely severed at the Latus River. There has been no trace of the Tower Master’s magical signature anywhere since then?”
“That is… the flow of magic was so thoroughly tangled that no one has been able to unravel it.”
The priest bowed his head deeply, his expression one of genuine shame.
The Temple and the Magic Tower had always been at odds.
The Temple had once held firm standing in the care of the common people — but that standing was slowly being eroded by the Magic Tower.
Artifacts.
Expensive, yes — but people had grown far more interested in artifacts they could simply buy with money than in the vague and intangible blessings of divine power. And among those artifacts were ones capable of healing wounds.
“This is truly irritating.”
The priest flinched at Christia’s murmur.
“Why did he go all the way to the Latus River…”
“I’m not certain. The Tower Master tends to act entirely on his own whims.”
“That he does.”
But none of it was meaningless.
“What is the status of the Magic Tower’s official position on healing artifacts?”
“…I will press them again.”
The priest’s voice had shrunk to almost nothing.
There was not a single result that pleased the Pope. The Magic Tower continued its silence without reply.
“All this does is make things difficult for both sides. I cannot fathom why they would make such a decision.”
Christia muttered, brow furrowed.
For a long time, the Magic Tower had acknowledged the sphere in which the Temple operated and kept its hands away from that domain.
But with the arrival of the Eighth Tower Master — Sion Senuart — that unspoken agreement had been shattered completely.
“The Latus River, if I recall correctly, lies at the very heart of the Declair Empire.”
“…That is correct.”
“Then he went there deliberately.”
Knowing the Temple had people tailing him, he had not gone directly to his destination — he had taken a roundabout path instead.
Which meant…
“He’s doing something that would be inconvenient if the Temple found out…”
Christia turned the question on the priest before him.
“What do you think that might be?”
“…P-perhaps…”
“Perhaps?”
The priest swallowed involuntarily.
Because something had indeed flickered through his mind.
But he seemed to be weighing whether speaking it aloud might cause trouble.
“Don’t worry. Speak freely. The judgment is mine to make.”
“…Might it be black magic? The Tower Master… is not he known to be exceptionally skilled in black magic?”
The priest ventured the suggestion with careful caution.
“Black magic…”
The Tower Master who disappeared along the Latus River — his purpose tied to black magic, and that being the reason he vanished there?
It was a reasonably sound deduction.
“Understood. Ah, and one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“Look into what is happening beyond these walls. The imperial palace and the Magic Tower in particular.”
“Yes, Your Holiness.”
“You may go.”
The priest exhaled a quiet breath of relief as he left.
Christia withdrew a letter he had received from the imperial palace not long ago and looked it over.
The sender was Karla Declair. The current Empress of the Empire.
It was a simple letter — a request for a private meeting.
Yet Christia found it unsettling.
Not once had the Empress reached out to him privately like this. That had always been the Emperor’s domain.
Something was clearly unfolding — quietly, and with great care.
“Truly incomprehensible things are happening. Since when did the Temple become reduced to the role of a spectator?”
There had never been a time when the Temple was unaware of what stirred in the world.
And yet, somewhere along the way, Christia could not shake the feeling that the Temple was being slowly, quietly excluded from the center of everything.
Christia’s gaze drifted to the divine beast curled into a small ball on a soft, fluffy cushion in the corner of the papal chamber.
“I wonder when I’ll ever hear its voice.”
It had already been more than eight years since the creature was born.
If only he could claim that divine beast — everything in his way could be swept aside.
It was said that only the human with the most powerful divine energy could hear the call of a divine beast.
Christia, who had long believed himself to be the most powerfully blessed individual in all of the Declair Empire, fell into deep contemplation.
“…Could it be that the Crown Prince’s divine energy has grown stronger than mine?”
The child had seemed utterly unremarkable at birth.
And yet — a divine beast born eight years ago. The probability that its chosen one was the Crown Prince was very high indeed.
However, the news that the divine beast had been born had not yet been disclosed to the imperial family.
Christia cut short his deepening thoughts and murmured quietly to himself.
“That’s something I can simply verify.”
