Chapter 113

Light Magic

The carriage shook violently.
The horses screamed in terror.

Fireballs grazed past the carriage again and again, nearly striking it directly before exploding.
They were 2nd-class spells.

“At least twenty.”

Isaac’s senses captured the number of enemies.
The sound of snorting horses, pounding hooves, the sudden surges and concentrations of mana, and silhouettes emerging in the darkness—all of it combined into his conclusion.

“Eight of them are mages. Five are aura users. Just beginners.”

With just that assessment, Isaac could already guess who had sent them.
Count Botmer.
This time, he had sent enough forces to finish things properly.

“The rest—”

Thud. Bang!

A flaming arrow struck the carriage.

Through the window, Isaac saw a rider swinging a hook attached to a chain.
The man, his mouth covered with cloth beneath a hood, hurled the hook toward the carriage.
The carriage suddenly veered sharply to the left.
The hook missed.
Carlson had anticipated it and pulled the reins in time.

“The rest are just tricksters.”

Whoosh—

Boom!
Boom!

Fireballs rained down without pause, striking around the speeding carriage.
The horses screamed, and the carriage swayed wildly.

“They’re driving us toward Valden!”

Carlson shouted from the driver’s seat.

The carriage, originally heading southwest toward the royal capital, had now turned southeast.
They had not yet left Vinfelt, so the surroundings were still open hills and plains—but soon the Gray Forest would appear.

Valden.

A swampy region filled with willow trees.
A place riddled with marshes.
Once they entered, it wouldn’t be long before the carriage would sink into the mire.

Clang—

Sparks flew from Carlson’s drawn sword.
A pursuer had ridden close and thrust at him.
Holding the reins with one hand, Carlson swung his blade with the other.
The attackers persistently targeted only the driver’s seat.

“I’ll take the driver’s seat—”
“Wait. We don’t yet know what they want.”

Raphael tried to open the carriage door, but Isaac shook his head.
Inside, Enette and Gaspard were curled up, frozen in fear.

Isaac glanced through the gap at the rear window.
The supply wagon carrying Bishop Alquin was still following behind.
It too was being pursued, but not nearly as heavily attacked as Isaac’s carriage.

“F-fire! It’s on fire!”

Enette screamed.
Flames from the earlier flaming arrow were spreading across the carriage roof.

“Where’s the Hellhound!?”

Carlson shouted.

It was an awkward situation to use aura.
If he misjudged the force, the horses could panic and overturn the carriage.
From Carlson’s perspective, the best solution now was the appearance of the Hellhound.
Its mere presence could terrify the enemy horses.

But Isaac had no intention of using it.

Eight mages and six aura users in an open field—
and skilled archers on top of that.
Using the Hellhounds might let them escape,
but most of the beasts would die.

They were not expendable here.

Isaac organized his thoughts quickly.

If Botmer sent them, they think Bishop Alquin—poisoned—is in this carriage. Or already dead. Then what’s their objective?

They’re not missing on purpose—they’re deliberately avoiding direct hits. They want to stop the carriage, not destroy it. They’re avoiding killing everyone inside.

Botmer bribed Gaspard. The man who falsified testimony and records must not die. Their goal is likely to secure Gaspard, then eliminate the rest—including Raphael. That will happen after they capture him. So…

“Carlson, stop the carriage!”
“Have you lost your mind!?”
“I said stop!”

It made no sense.
Stopping meant being surrounded—attacked by dozens at once.
Certain death.

But as always, Carlson chose to trust him.

Neigh—!

Carlson yanked the reins hard.
The horses reared, their front hooves clawing the air as they struggled to stop.
But they were already too panicked to control.
The speed did not drop.

“Hold on tight!”

Carlson cut the shaft connecting the carriage to the horses.
The front axle snapped and flew off.
The carriage’s front scraped the ground, kicking up dirt.
The body tilted violently—Gaspard rolled across the floor, and Raphael was thrown into the air.

Enette barely managed to steady herself after the sudden stop, trying to catch her breath—
but Isaac gave her no time.

“Enette, it’s lesson time.”

“W-what?”

Isaac grabbed her wrist.

Should’ve practiced more if I knew this would happen…

A deep blue mana rose from Enette’s grasp.
It condensed toward a single point.
A tiny orb of blue light—smaller than a bead—flickered.
A pure mana crystal, imbued with no element.

Enette barely suppressed a scream.

Pain followed—like her palm being sliced open with a blade.

The concentrated mana refracted the lantern light, stirred a faint breeze, and pulled at her hair.
She heard nothing but ringing in her ears.
Her palm felt as if it would tear apart.
Blood seeped from her bitten lips.

The unstable vibration at the core intensified.
The blue light turned into a white radiance, growing brighter and brighter—until it shone with blinding brilliance.

“Cover your eyes!”

Isaac shouted.

Enette’s vision filled with white—then plunged into darkness.

Boom—!

A thunderous roar pierced through the ringing.

Thud—

“Ugh…”

Beltran groaned, clutching his head as he opened his eyes.

Thud.

The distant noise was drawing closer.

The night sky was filled with stars, and the moon shone brightly.
It was that kind of night.

“Why am I here…?”

He recalled what had happened.

A faction within the family, allied with the head steward Valdek, had staged a rebellion.
His father had died.
To survive, Beltran inherited the headship.

Then he met Count Botmer.
A middle-aged man with a long, angular face and prominent cheekbones.

In a gentle voice, he made Beltran an offer.
No—a threat.

Secure the old clerk named Gaspard.
Kill the other investigators from the Papal Office.

Otherwise, the Büchtner family would fall.

So, together with Valdek, they formed a pursuit force.
From the mage mercenary group Akanlaufer, they selected skilled combat mages.
From the Büchtner family troops loyal to Valdek, they gathered soldiers.

The result:
Two 2nd-class mages, six 1st-class mages,
five knights just beginning to use aura,
and eight mercenaries skilled in capture.

Their plan was simple:

Overturn the carriage.
If that failed, drive it into Valden’s swamp.
Then carry out the count’s orders.

After the two carriages moved far from the Vinfelt encampment,
the operation seemed to proceed smoothly.

Skilled riders drove the carriage toward Valden.
Flaming arrows set it ablaze.
The terrified horses broke free from the driver’s control.

And at last—
they succeeded in stopping the carriage.

The lead carriage had lost its front wheels, and two Holy Knights from the rear supply wagon stopped and dismounted.
Clad in white surcoats, they ignited their aura and stood on guard.
They were not opponents to be taken lightly.

The pursuit force surrounded both carriages.

There was still no movement from the lead carriage.
Except for one strange thing—
a faint light was leaking out.

Then, the moment the carriage door opened, Beltran froze in shock.
His eyes widened beneath the hood and cloth covering his mouth.

“Enette?”

It was the girl he had seen at Goethe’s competition—
the one who had captivated him at first sight.
Enette stepped out of the carriage.

Her wrist was held tightly by a young noble boy riding with her.
And in her hand rested a brilliant white radiance.

“Eliminate her.”

Valdek ordered the mercenary beside him holding a crossbow.

“N—”

Beltran was just about to tell him to stop—

The white light in Enette’s hand exploded outward.

At that instant, Beltran sensed danger and cast a defensive spell.
But it only blocked magic—it did nothing to protect his sight or hearing.

Blinding white light flooded his vision.
He could no longer distinguish light from darkness.

Eeeee—

All he could hear was ringing.

“Guh—!”

He felt his body lift into the air.
His startled horse had thrown him off.
The white vision faded into darkness.

And then—

It happened.

He didn’t know what had happened or how.

By the time sensation barely returned and he turned his head—

Crack!

“Val… dek?”

If only it hadn’t been a full moon.
If only the moonlight hadn’t been so bright.

Before Beltran’s eyes, Valdek—the steward of the Büchtner family—had his head crushed.
A mace swung by someone shattered his skull under the impact.
His eyeballs burst from their sockets—one hanging over his cheek, the other half-sunken into the fractured skull.
Like fruit crushed under a cartwheel.

Fragments of bone jutted out through torn flesh like jagged spikes.

“Gah—!”

“Hm? You’re awake.”

A low, hoarse voice pierced Beltran’s ears.

The man’s veined hand gripped a mace.
Torn flesh and bone fragments clung to the iron head, swaying.

The cross necklace around his neck gleamed strangely under the moonlight.

“Baron!”

The man called out.

“Yes.”

“Someone’s regained consciousness.”

Isaac wiped the blood splattered across his face and approached Raphael.
Blood dripped steadily from the tip of Raphael’s sword.

They had been finishing off the enemies who had been knocked unconscious by the light magic.

Raphael pulled off Beltran’s hood and the cloth covering his mouth.

“Beltran?”

Isaac looked surprised.

“Y-you know me?”
“Is he someone you know?”
“He’s the second son of the Büchtner family.”

“The Büchtner family?”
“They are a vassal family under ours.”
“So, betrayal. And the price of betrayal is clear.”

Raphael raised his mace without hesitation.

“Wait.”

At Isaac’s words, Raphael froze mid-motion, the mace still raised.

“We need to keep one alive.”
“Hmm.”

Raphael lowered the mace.

Beltran felt relief—but it came too soon.

Gripping the mace in reverse, Raphael struck Beltran’s head with the handle.

Darkness swallowed Beltran’s vision once again.

***

Though the kingdom was technically a vassal state of the empire, it was still a nation.

And the royal capital was truly worthy of the name.

The first thing visible from afar was the massive walls and watchtowers.
The eastern gate, built along a long river, had a drawbridge, iron bars, and enormous wooden gates.

Outside the walls lay vast farmlands and grazing fields.
Inside the outer walls were barracks, stables, a grand cathedral, a central plaza, and commercial districts.

Guards in full armor patrolled with spears and crossbows.
Checkpoints were set up at key roads.

On the well-paved streets, horses and carriages passed endlessly.
Musicians and performers entertained crowds in the plaza.

After three full days of travel, Isaac’s group arrived in the capital and stayed at an inn in a relatively quiet district.
It was a luxurious place, and as expected of the capital, both lodging and meals were expensive—but Raphael covered the cost.

Two more days passed in the capital.

Bishop Alquin, with the help of a cathedral priest, received treatment from a physician skilled in pharmacology.
Gaspard and Beltran were imprisoned under the jurisdiction of the church.

“You can see the royal palace from anywhere in the capital.”

Isaac gazed at the palace from the second floor of the inn.
Located at the highest point in the inner city, it dominated the skyline.

“It’s the same everywhere. Cities are built radially around the palace.”

Raphael stood by the window, calmly looking down at the streets.

“You’ve done nothing but sleep since we arrived.”
“I must’ve been more tired than I thought.”

Isaac blinked lazily, eyes half-open.

“Are you not going to explain how you did that?”
“You mean the light magic?”
“I may not know much about divine power, but I do know there’s no authority over light. Light and darkness are phenomena, not substances.”

“Light is a substance. Darkness is the phenomenon.”
“Why?”
“I told you. I’ll explain after I meet His Eminence the Cardinal.”

A faint displeasure appeared on Raphael’s face.
From a religious perspective, it was an important matter.

Of course, Isaac didn’t care.

“Young master.”

Enette knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

“A reply has arrived.”

Isaac took the letter from her.

[See you at the Academy. — Marcel Reich]

It was brief.