Chapter 31: The Society of Dead Mages Part 2

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The Abyss Containment Society, huh.

Kriel stroked his chin. Mages were known for researching all sorts of things, but he hadn’t expected there to be a society that fit his exact circumstances so perfectly.

While Lewayne rummaged through the piles of letters scattered around his study, Kriel and Orishin waited outside.

Kriel had agreed to Lewayne’s request to wait for a moment and leaned against the wall. He looked like a figure in a painting.

Not in the sense of having picturesque features. But rather, in a way that made him seem lifeless, like a still-life painting.

Only the faint sounds of Lewayne’s footsteps and the rustling of paper broke the heavy silence. Unable to bear the boredom any longer, Orishin spoke in a low voice.

[Come to think of it, isn’t that room beyond the door the place that mage Collin, or whatever his name was, was after?]

Kriel was about to scold him. Hadn’t they agreed to keep quiet around others? But then he realized something. This was the very moment Lewayne had mistaken for a summoning spell. And the “other person” they were supposed to be careful around was behind that door. So, instead of holding back, he answered.

“Probably. It’s the court mage’s study, after all. It must hold everything from classified documents about the lord’s annual plans and the city’s barrier maintenance to personal research notes.”

[You’re awfully calm about this. This was the target of a secret plot to overthrow the city. Aren’t you even a little curious?]

“Oh, I’ve seen a mage’s study before.”

Kriel had once held a certain fascination with mages.

To be more precise, he had idealized every class that wasn’t a dark knight. Among them, mages along with knights (who weren’t dark knights) held a particularly special place in his heart.

Magic. The very essence of fantasy.

Anyone who delved into the fantasy genre would inevitably encounter mages. From the gray mage who became white while leading an expedition to the headmaster of a British magic school, those mystical sages had left a deep impression on Kriel’s mind.

But—

“The mages I’ve met, well… weren’t exactly the tidiest.”

[Oh… Are you talking about that mage? The one you were planning to visit once you got to the Empire?]

Kriel nodded his head.

He had met the mage of Ket County back when he was still a mercenary, recklessly charging from one job to another. After spending some time in the territory, constantly crossing paths with the mage, much of his admiration and sense of mystery toward magic had faded away.

“The room was an absolute disaster. When I tried to clean it up a little, he practically kicked me—”

Kriel suddenly remembered that Lewayne was right behind the door. It seemed Tuon had reached the same conclusion, as she began humming and sending out thought waves.

[Master, a knight must always uphold his dignity.]

“Yeah, yeah, I got it. Anyway, mages really hate it when someone touches their study. It’s not just that they dislike people entering; it’s like they don’t even want anyone looking inside.”

Kriel recalled what the mage from Ket County had told him. Even if the room seemed chaotic to outsiders, the arrangement was, in fact, the result of a delicate organization process shaped by each mage’s unique aesthetics and intuition.

From the quick glance he had gotten beyond the door, Lewayne’s study appeared far tidier than that mage’s. But he decided to chalk it up to personal differences.

“There’s no need to be rude to someone who’s offering to help us. A little curiosity is fine, but there’s a limit to everything.”

Orishin tilted his head in thought. The mages he knew were indeed reluctant to expose their studies to others, but the most important research materials were never kept in such visible spaces in the first place.

Something about the reaction Kriel described felt oddly excessive.

While Orishin pondered this with his head bobbing slightly in curiosity, Lewayne finally emerged from the room after opening the door.

“Phew, I found it!”

In his hand was an envelope with a distinctly ancient design. It was sealed with a wax emblem, which gave the impression that this “Abyss Containment Society” was quite a wealthy organization.

[Oh?]

Orishin sensed something more. The wax seal wasn’t just a simple stamp, but was sealed in some kind of spell.

It was an intricate spell. One that not only protected the letter but also left traces if it wasn’t opened properly. Such sophisticated magic had been compressed into a seal that small.

Considering that most of the recipients of this letter would be mages, it was likely a promotional tactic meant to showcase skill and spark interest. Orishin adjusted his evaluation of the Abyss Containment Society, raising it a notch.

Lewayne tore open the envelope without even using a letter opener. Inside, the contents were filled with the usual formalities. An invitation addressed to a distinguished mage for a gathering set to take place on a specific date.

“This invitation was originally meant for me, but if I write you a letter of delegation, you should be able to attend in my stead.”

“I will gratefully accept.”

Kriel who had been acting rather casually just moments ago now carried himself with the gravitas of a seasoned knight. With swift, fluid strokes, Lewayne penned the letter of delegation and handed it over along with the Abyss Containment Society’s invitation.

“The gathering will be held in the Argethlam Duchy. It’s quite a long journey, but the roads are well-maintained, so you shouldn’t have much trouble arriving on time.”

Kriel bowed his head in gratitude before departing the city. His departure was as sudden as his arrival.

His steps carried no trace of concern for honor or praise for having slain a spawn of the Abyss.

***

In reality, Kriel had not intended to leave so abruptly.

He had defeated an Abyss spawn, reached a verbal agreement with the bereaved family member, and had planned to rest for a day or two before continuing his journey. After all, wasn’t it human nature to want to sit once you stopped walking and to want to lie down once you sat?

The one who disrupted Kriel’s rest was Tuon.

He had returned to his room and got preoccupied with the dilemma of how much he could eat at the upcoming banquet in honor of the Abyss’ defeat without appearing shameless when an unexpected question caught him off guard.

“But Master. Are you sure you should be lazing around like that?”

Tuon, who was taking care of both the greatsword and the horn sword, had a disapproving look on her face. She had a strange reason for helping him with the swords. While she disliked Kriel carrying a sword other than herself, she found it even more unacceptable that her master disgraced her own honor by looking unkempt.

Kriel, pleased that his daily chores had lessened, had allowed Tuon to take human form, though only under the condition that she did so away from prying eyes.

Now, feeling somewhat satisfied as if he had gained a retainer, Kriel furrowed his brow at the unexpected question.

“Hmm? What are you talking about?”

“The journey to the duchy, of course.”

“It’s not like we’re in that much of a hurry. Taking a day or two to rest shouldn’t make us late.”

“The mage said it wouldn’t take more than a few days to reach the duchy from here.”

“That’s right. So when it’s time to rest, you should—”

“But isn’t that based on a knight’s standards?”

It was a sudden verbal attack. How could a sword have the audacity to say something as outrageous as, “Are you even a knight?” to its own master? Before Kriel could recover from the shock, Tuon continued.

“Think about it. The court mage probably has some kind of mount, whether it’s a horse or something else. And a high-ranking warrior from the church would surely be given a fine steed by the church.”

Kriel almost shot back, “So are you saying dark knights aren’t real knights?” but held his tongue. A proper dark knight was a knight. They could dominate a beast, be it a Netherwolf or a Hellfire Drake, and ride it as their steed.

But Kriel himself was not a knight. He had no intention of keeping a monstrous mount, and there was certainly no one offering to carry him.

“But, Master, you don’t have a horse.”

Orishin protested, shouting, “Hey, what about me?!” but Tuon refused to budge. Her brutal logic that “A headless horse could still run, but a legless one could not” sent Orishin retreating into the sword while yelling, “Stop this violence!”

“If you want to make it in time for the gathering, shouldn’t you be hurrying?”

Annoyingly enough, she had a point. With a reluctant farewell to the pork roasting over the fire, Kriel quickly set off.

The garrison commander and Lewayne hurriedly handed him a pouch filled with silver coins, but he only took a single coin, leaving the rest in the room he had been assigned.

Curious, Orishin asked,

[Just one? If you’re not going to take all of it, wouldn’t it make more sense to take none at all?]

“Ahh, you don’t get it. This is called marketing.”

There had been plenty of knights throughout history who performed great deeds (mostly causing bloodshed targeting the Abyss) and then disappeared without accepting any reward. But Kriel was the only one who consistently took exactly one coin, whether copper or gold. He explained the concept of differentiation and how it helped establish his own unique image.

“One coin. A knight of the single leaf. Sounds cool, doesn’t it?”

[Hmm… I guess there’s a certain romantic appeal to it. But, uh… how’s your reputation looking?]

The rumor of a wandering knight who fought injustice for just a single coin had spread to some extent.

But long before people ever mentioned that rumor, most took one look at his appearance and said, “Who are you? You look suspicious.”

Kriel chose not to answer.

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