“…Huh. The connection dropped.”
Sion muttered to himself, holding the crystal orb that had gone dark in his hand.
He’d wondered what on earth the call was about when it came out of nowhere — but there had clearly been a very good reason for it.
It seemed Riersha had figured out that he was searching for the Staff of the Demon Dragon.
To flaunt the staff right in his face and then cut off communication like that…
The provocation was transparent enough, but now that she had gotten her hands on the Staff of the Demon Dragon first, he had no choice but to play along exactly as she intended.
“She completely played me.”
Sion laughed, the sound hollow with exhaustion.
Everything he’d been doing up until a moment ago had become utterly useless. The tracking summoning circle he’d spent the entire night constructing — crafted piece by painstaking piece to locate the Staff of the Demon Dragon, the sole remaining legacy of Abel Senuart — was now good for nothing.
He crouched down to the floor and let out a long, heavy sigh.
He was still wearily sweeping up the mess on the floor when Basen entered, carrying a small tray of light refreshments. He set it down on the corner of the desk and looked over.
“What are you doing, Tower Master? …Why are you erasing a perfectly good summoning circle?”
“…Everything just fell apart.”
“What fell apart?”
“It’s over for us, Basen.”
Sion pointed to the crystal orb.
It was an object Basen knew well — one that had been made specifically to communicate with Riersha Arachrene.
Basen’s eyes went wide with disbelief.
“Turns out the youngest Arachrene daughter has the Staff of the Demon Dragon. She just contacted me. I think she’s figured out our secrets too.”
“Good heavens.”
Basen squeezed his eyes shut.
But there was something even more serious than that waiting for him.
“…A message arrived earlier, Tower Master.”
“What.”
“The Pope says he wishes to meet with you. …What would you like to do?”
“…Sounds like someone’s sweating bullets.”
Tsk.
Sion’s face twisted with irritation.
“We already knew the secret about the divine beast on our end as well. If this whole affair goes wrong… the Pope won’t be the type to go down alone.”
That was the crux of the problem.
Sion stared at the crystal orb for a long moment, then straightened his legs from where he’d been crouched.
“What to do about this. It’s a real headache.”
The easier path was undeniably to join hands with the Pope.
Given a little more time and effort, there was a chance — no, nearly a certainty — that they could have found the Staff of the Demon Dragon on their own.
But…
Sion stared at the window for a long time, then turned around with an unreadable expression on his face.
“So when do you think would be a good time to meet?”
⁂
The Declair Papacy.
For days now, the whereabouts of the divine beast had remained utterly unknown.
Yet they could no longer conduct searches throughout the capital city.
The imperial side had issued a single warning, citing the unrest being sown among the populace.
Should such activity occur again, they demanded to be informed of the precise reason.
The Emperor has grown arrogant.
In the past, there had never been a single objection to wherever the temple deployed its people or whatever they chose to do.
“Your Holiness, I’ll enter briefly.”
“Come in.”
The bedroom door opened and a priest stepped inside — the same one who had received Christia’s instructions not long before.
The priest entered the room, glanced around, and let his expression fill with concern.
The bed was just as immaculate as it had been the day before, not a single crease out of place.
“You haven’t slept in days now, Your Holiness. Would you not consider resting, even for a short while?”
“Never mind that. Has there been a reply from the Mage Tower?”
“Yes, actually — I was just on my way to bring it to you. They said tomorrow at noon would suit them well.”
The tension that had been locked into Christia’s expression eased slightly.
Fortunately, Sion Senuart had not refused the request to meet.
“Then let us arrange the meeting for tomorrow at noon.”
“…However, tomorrow you have a scheduled appointment with Duke Willias, one of our largest benefactors.”
“Cancel it.”
“…Pardon?”
“This matter is more pressing. Duke Willias can wait for another time.”
Canceling a meeting with Duke Willias — the single largest donor every year, without fail?
The priest’s eyes darted about nervously.
He couldn’t begin to imagine how much displeasure the Duke would show upon hearing this news, let alone how he himself would be expected to manage it.
Christia frowned slightly and looked at the priest.
“Why aren’t you answering?”
“…Yes, I will adjust the schedule accordingly.”
“You may go.”
“Yes, Your Holiness. Please do get some rest.”
Click.
As the priest left the bedroom, Christia finally exhaled with relief and made his way to the bed.
If only the Mage Tower would cooperate…
The divine beast can be retrieved soon enough.
The control collar had been designed to allow tracking as well.
In truth, tracking was something anyone with the ability could do.
The difficulty was simply that it would be inconvenient for the outside world to learn what the temple was tracking.
With a calm and settled heart, Christia lay down on the bed and closed his eyes.
⁂
The following day. The Arachrene Ducal Residence.
Riersha regarded the Staff of the Demon Dragon with quiet satisfaction.
She had just finished safely transferring it from the underground storage of the auction house all the way to her room.
“The more I look at it, the more remarkable it seems. To think this is actually something Abel Senuart used…”
Sona circled the staff with wide, curious eyes, examining it from every angle.
Her first impression upon seeing the Staff of the Demon Dragon had been one of revulsion, but the longer she looked at it, the stronger a sense of something otherworldly took hold of her.
“Right? It really is extraordinary.”
“But if the original owner is looking for the staff, as you said, Miss Riersha… wouldn’t it be far too dangerous to keep it here?”
“Now that you mention it, I suppose it would be.”
Oberon had been quiet until now, but his voice was laced with concern, and Sona nodded in wholehearted agreement.
There was still nothing to be gleaned about what purpose Abel Senuart had in placing the control collar on the divine beast, nor the reason he had aided Adrian Declair.
All they could do was guess that whatever that purpose was, it wasn’t anything good.
Riersha glanced at the clock hanging on the wall.
It was already well past the lunch hour.
The agreed-upon meeting time had long since passed, and there had been absolutely no word from Sion.
Given that he had reached out first asking to meet, this was rather…
Something seems off.
Riersha tilted her head.
She had naturally expected him to arrive well before the agreed time.
“Has Sion still not arrived?”
“No, still no word.”
“He’s taking a lot longer than I expected…”
Oberon gave a small nod.
“For someone who is the one in need, he is being remarkably tardy. He’s already ten minutes late.”
“Hmm. Could it be… that he’s had a change of heart?”
Sona murmured the thought half to herself, as though hardly daring to believe it.
Riersha furrowed her brows with an uneasy feeling.
A change of heart? In just one day?
Just then, there came a knock at the door, and a maid stepped in with a respectful bow.
She brought with her the news they had been waiting for.
“Miss Riersha, your guest has arrived.”
⁂
“…Are you certain the message was delivered correctly?”
“Yes. …I confirmed the date and time several times over.”
Christia tightened his hand into a fist.
The current time was half past twelve.
It was already thirty full minutes past the appointed hour.
As Christia’s expression turned icy, the High Priest standing beside him began to pace about in helpless agitation.
After a moment, he leaned toward the knight standing guard at the door and whispered.
“Has there been no word from the Mage Tower? Did the Tower Master not agree to visit the temple today?”
“…He has not yet arrived.”
The knight shook his head, indicating that he too was at a loss.
Tick. Tick.
The steady turning of the clock’s second hand was the only sound that filled the reception room.
Time continued to pass, and before long it had crept past one o’clock.
The meal prepared in advance had gone entirely cold — far beyond the point of being served to a guest.
Christia ground his teeth.
It had been a very long time since he had felt an insult like this.
“Sion Senuart.”
His eyes flashed.
Christia shot to his feet.
“You dare stand me up?”
It seemed the Tower Master had slipped away somewhere else entirely along the way.
