Chapter 102

Did he not even have time to wipe away the blood?

Lucian already knew the state of the Emperor’s health.
But even if it was a fact known to Lucian, an Emperor would normally be loath to show such weakness.
He ought to have been pretending his condition was improving, not openly revealing that it had worsened.

He must be hanging by a thread.

It seemed his life was still clinging on, but he was clearly standing at the very edge of death.

He was likely in a state where it wouldn’t have been strange for him to die at any moment.

Otherwise, there would have been no reason not to spare even a moment to wipe the blood from the edict.

“Your Grace, this is the item His Majesty promised you.”

In a trembling voice, Glen held the edict out to Lucian.
By protocol, he should have unrolled it here, read it aloud on the Emperor’s behalf, and then presented it.

But it seemed there wasn’t even the leeway to carry out such simple formalities.

“…Please convey to His Majesty that I have received a debt of gratitude I must repay over my lifetime.”

Lucian went down on one knee and reached out with both hands to receive the edict.

The moment the edict touched his palm, a heavy voice escaped Glen’s lips.

“His Majesty asked me to pass along a message.”

“A message?”
“Don’t forget.”

It was brief and simple, yet the desperation within it was unmistakable.
Still kneeling, Lucian quietly nodded.

“I will never forget.”
“Please…”

Whatever Glen had been about to say, he soon gave up and handed over the edict.
Lucian broke the seal and unfurled the scroll, his eyes lighting up.

—

To Lucian Grimaldi Valdeck, Duke of Grimaldi and Marchlord of Asagrim, authority is hereby granted to pardon and officially recognize unlicensed mages.

—

Various minor clauses followed, but none were as important as that first line.
It was a handwritten transfer of authority—granting amnesty over unlicensed mages—personally penned by the Emperor.
Simply announcing the contents of this edict could overturn the entire course of the age itself.

Lucian carefully tucked the scroll into his robes and looked to Glen.

“What do you intend to do now? Will you return to Tibrone immediately?”
“I would like to, but there are matters I must see to before leaving. I’ll need to inform the Blue Rose Knights and the garrison as well.”
“Are you planning to take the Asagrim garrison with you too?”
“…That will be difficult.”

Glen’s expression darkened.
The soldiers assigned by the Imperial Court and the Blue Rose Knights were, by rights, meant to remain here.

To begin with, they had only been lent out until the war with House Calyx came to an end.
But the Asagrim garrison had lost any reason to remain here the moment Asagrim changed hands.

“It would be best for the garrison to return individually by land. They’ll have to arrange their own escorts, but the Imperial Court will compensate them for whatever they spend.”

Lucian barely managed to suppress the bitter smile that threatened to surface.
Even if they were merely a city garrison, troops were still troops.
Whenever forces moved, costs were inevitably incurred—and attention inevitably drawn.
And yet there would be no support; they were to fund their own protection and go back on their own?

So this is just being thrown away because there’s no room to take them along.

Well, they weren’t elite troops to begin with—there was no reason to look after a mere territorial garrison so carefully.
That was, of course, if one didn’t care about how those being discarded might feel.

“Your Grace, I’ll be departing tonight. If there’s anything I can help you with one last time, please say so now.”

It was a way of saying that since they would soon part ways, they might as well settle accounts cleanly.
There was no reason to refuse such an offer, so Lucian immediately made his request.

“Before I release the mage in the underground prison, I intend to announce the authority His Majesty granted me. As an Imperial Inspector, I want you to vouch for my words.”

***

Lucian immediately informed the lords of the contents of the edict.
It was to prevent any trouble regarding Colin later on.
No matter how ironclad the edict was, if Lucian alone made the announcement, there would surely be those who accused him of forgery.

But if an Imperial Inspector stepped forward personally to vouch for it, there’d be no worry of rumors afterward.

As expected, the lords were stunned when the contents of the edict were announced.
Quite a few among them openly doubted it.

“Not only a pardon, but permission to enter service as well? Did His Majesty truly say such a thing?”
“Isn’t there some kind of mistake? We’re not doubting Your Grace, but there may have been an error along the way.”

Not only those hostile to Lucian, but even those favorably inclined toward him eyed the proclamation with suspicion.
Glen stepped forward before them and brushed aside the flood of doubts.

“This is an edict I received directly from His Majesty and personally delivered.”

“……”

At those words alone, the lords were left speechless.

Once the announcement concluded, Lucian immediately had Colin released from the prison and moved to a guest chamber.
Colin, still wearing a dazed, unbelieving expression, was led away by servants.
Watching Colin recede with a displeased look, Glen spoke in a heavy voice.

“It seems I’ve now done everything I can for you.”
“I’m grateful for all you’ve done thus far. I won’t forget your efforts—nor, of course, the grace His Majesty bestowed upon me.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Then I’ll see to my own affairs.”

The moment he finished speaking, Glen went to find Gares, commander of the Blue Rose Knights, and Lothier, the former captain of the Asagrim garrison.
When he informed them that he would be returning to Tibrone and leaving the two behind, Gares accepted it without protest.
Though part of it was because he still had plenty of time left to serve under Lucian, there was also a faint edge of sarcasm—as if he hadn’t expected otherwise to begin with.

“As anticipated. When would it be acceptable for us to return?”
“I’m afraid that hasn’t been decided yet. It seems a decision will be made after observing the situation a bit longer.”

“Very well. Then I’ll remain here and quietly attend to my duties. Inspector, you should return first.”
“Sir Gares, this is not meant as a slight against the Blue Rose Knights.”
“Of course not.”

At Gares’s attitude, Glen seemed about to say something, then merely let out a sigh and departed.
Whatever he said, it was obvious it wouldn’t truly be heard.
He could only console himself with the thought that, at the very least, Gares wasn’t making a fuss over his treatment.

“W-What do you mean by that? That we’re to stay behind?”

Unlike Gares, who accepted Glen’s words with relative composure, Lothier reacted vehemently.
And it was understandable—the situations of the knightly order and the garrison were entirely different.

“The garrison has nothing left to do here. Asagrim is now Duke Lucian’s territory—what exactly are we supposed to do?”
“There’s nothing you need to do. You may simply return as you are.”
“You’re telling us to go from Asagrim to Tibrone without a single supply, empty-handed? The entire garrison?”
“Whether you travel together or disperse is up to the garrison’s discretion. Any expenses incurred during the return can all be processed later as official costs.”
“What kind of—!”

Lothier was dumbfounded.
He hadn’t expected to be taken along through a dimensional gate—but wasn’t this going too far?
At the very least, shouldn’t there have been an edict requesting cooperation from nearby lords, or an imperial guarantee of safety during their return?
All it would have taken was a single word—yet they were being cast aside like this.

“We were a garrison guarding land under His Majesty’s direct rule! You can’t treat us this way!”
“Do you think I’m unaware of your service? It’s simply that the Imperial Court’s circumstances leave us no choice.”

And just what were those lofty circumstances that made even such a simple measure impossible?
Lothier’s eyes demanded an answer—but Glen could offer none.

In truth, if anyone felt more stifled by the situation, it was Glen.

With His Majesty collapsed, how could an edict possibly be issued? They’re barely managing the aftermath in Krepfeld now that the rebellion has been suppressed…

Though no one knew when the Emperor might die, he was still clinging to life.
Naturally, without the Emperor’s explicit approval, there was little choice but to be cautious about moving troops at will.
On top of that, Sigmund’s death had driven soldiers into a frenzy, leading to massacres.
With the situation already this chaotic, was it really possible to spare the attention to look after a garrison whose role had ended?

“Please try to understand.”

For Glen, who could not reveal the circumstances behind the scenes, those words were the best he could offer.
Unsurprisingly, they did nothing to convince Lothier.
Under Lothier’s unyielding stare, Glen turned his back and walked away.

Once he had finished everything he needed to do, Glen departed without anyone seeing him off.
When Lucian tried to escort him, Glen even declined politely.

“I must leave in haste. I apologize, but I don’t have the luxury to linger over a farewell.”

It might have sounded somewhat rude, but Lucian understood how he felt.
When one’s heart was in tatters, no amount of polite atmosphere could make things feel any better.

And so, outside Asagrim, Glen opened a dimensional gate on his own and disappeared.

After everything had finally settled, Lucian headed for the guest chamber he had assigned to Colin.

“Coming in.”

Creeeak.

As Lucian opened the door to the guest chamber, Colin’s vacant face came into view.
The way he kept blinking made it clear he still hadn’t quite grasped reality.

“Pull yourself together. I get how you feel, but there’s a limit to spacing out. Want me to slap you awake?”
“…What happens to me now?”

This is pretty severe.

Lucian let out a dry chuckle and dragged over a nearby chair before sitting down.

“What do you mean, what happens? You’ll be appointed and work under me properly.”
“In what capacity?”
“Hmm. Calling you a court mage doesn’t feel right, and ‘personal mage’ sounds a bit cheap. I’m thinking of lumping it together as something like an advisor.”

“If possible, bring in mages from the school you belong to as well. If they’re competent, I’ll give them positions. If not, I’ll just kick them out.”
“Heh…”

At Lucian’s almost frivolous tone, Colin laughed.
Or rather—his mouth was smiling, but tears streamed freely from his eyes.
Only now did it seem to truly sink in what kind of rights he had obtained.

“Does that mean… all those long centuries of suffering end just like this? Over three hundred years of torment, ending right here, right now? Oh gods, truly…!”

As Colin sobbed quietly, choking back his voice, Lucian simply watched him in silence.
He couldn’t fully understand those feelings, but after escaping an endless fear of death, it was only natural to be overwhelmed.
Especially since it wasn’t just his own freedom—his entire school had effectively been liberated along with him.

Only after a long while did Colin wipe his red, swollen eyes and lift his head.

“It’s been thirty years since I last looked for a god. Good heavens—I never thought the words ‘oh gods’ would come out of my mouth again.”
“Sorry to rain on your parade, but I have no intention of ending this with ‘and thus the mages lived happily ever after.’ If I’ve done this much for mages, then they’d better work just as hard for me.”
“Of course. I understand.”
“And if the work isn’t up to standard, I’ll throw you out again. I didn’t obtain an amnesty because I pitied you. I did it because I need you. Don’t forget that.”

Despite Lucian’s cold words, Colin’s smile only deepened.

“My master used to say that mages were originally those who stood beside lords, aiding them with counsel and magic. In those days, the rank of the lord a mage served depended on the mage’s own ability.”
“Sounds like something your master didn’t witness firsthand.”
“It was over three hundred years ago, so that’s only natural. What matters is that even during the golden age of mages, there was differential treatment and competition. And, of course, punishment for wrongdoing as well.”

That the incompetent receive poor treatment is an unchanging truth.
He had no intention of shamelessly asking for special consideration just because they were mages, or fellow victims of persecution.
The very fact that Lucian had negotiated directly with the Emperor and brought back an amnesty was already an immense act of grace.

“Use us however you see fit, Your Grace. If we’re incompetent, discard us. If someone forgets their place and resists, cut them down. Just as the lords of old treated their mages.”
“And you’re fine with that? These are comrades who’ve finally been given a second chance at life.”

Without even blinking, Colin nodded.

“What use is there for those who can’t be satisfied even with treatment equal to the golden age? If there’s a fool who can’t grasp his place and dares to defy Your Grace, I’ll be the first to burn him to ash with lightning.”