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Chapter 11
“Did you rent out the entire street or something? Why is your carriage parked here?”
A hysterical voice from across the road snapped Yulian out of her spiral through dark memories. Several men in gray robes had been passing by when they suddenly picked a fight. Roxita stepped in front of the carriage window, blocking Yulian from view, while Delsian approached the men.
“There’s more than enough room to pass.”
“Move the carriage.”
The carriage was parked not far from the main gate of the Knights’ Union. Inside the grounds there were many pedestrians, and of course they couldn’t block the Union’s entrance, so they had pulled the carriage aside to keep it out of the way. The road wasn’t particularly wide, but it wasn’t so narrow that people couldn’t pass because of the carriage either.
There was no reason to indulge in the robed men’s provocation. The knights ignored their demands, pretending not to hear them. Irritated by the lack of response, the men’s voices grew sharper.
“Didn’t you hear me? I said move the carriage! Why park it here instead of using the carriage lane?”
“Didn’t you hear me say you can pass just fine? This area belongs to the Knights’ Union, and stopping here is permitted.”
“We’re not trying to pass—we’re looking for something we dropped. But we can’t see the ground because of your carriage.”
“There was nothing dropped. And why are you suddenly talking so rudely?”
Before long, it turned into a contest of pride. Yulian was bewildered by how things had escalated, but in truth, it had been inevitable from the start. The grimy gray robes worn by the men were practically the symbol of the Mage Tower, while the knights were members of the Union. Both sides immediately recognized who the other was, and as natural enemies, they made no effort to hide their hostility.
“Honestly, how uncivilized. Causing trouble when the branch is right here—looks like you traded that precious chivalry for a snack, huh?”
“I was wondering where that moldy smell was coming from—it’s mages. You’re so filthy I thought you were beggars.”
“Oh yeah? At least we don’t stink of sweat. You slaughter so many poor chickens that every night the Union’s haunted by the ghosts of chickens without breasts, right?”
“Oh, and you’re all turtle-necked, herniated-disked, rhinitis-ridden, dry-eyed freaks. Living in that damp tower, you’ve probably started a mushroom farm in your brains, huh?”
The fierce—no, petty—exchange showed no sign of stopping. Grown adults who should have known better bickered shamelessly in the middle of the street. Listening to the childish back-and-forth, Yulian was sickened by how embarrassingly immature they were.
Then the knights suddenly fell silent and took up defensive stances. Though Roxita blocked her view, Yulian could instinctively tell that someone they couldn’t ignore had arrived.
“What’s going on?”
“Master, you came at just the right time! These guys just called us turtle-necked!”
“How would mushrooms even grow in a brain? Ignorant fools! Right, Master?”
As expected, the mages complained like children running to their father. Then, from among the whining figures, a sharp, irritable voice cut through the noise.
“So noisy. Do you have no idea how expensive the Mage Tower Lord’s time is?”
Without realizing it, Yulian clenched her teeth. She recognized that voice instantly. How could she ever forget a voice that sent shivers down her spine just from hearing it?
‘The Mage Tower Lord.’
Lucas Kalten—the master of the Mage Tower. The man who had been a devoted follower of “My Love, Your Love, Angela,” the central figure in the “Attempted Poisoning of the Crown Prince’s Fiancée” incident that ultimately led to Yulian’s exile from Latem. A man who had tirelessly tormented Yulian just to curry favor with Angela.
Even before becoming Mage Tower Lord, Lucas was infamous for his obsession with money. He charged consultation fees before even accepting a request, calculated travel expenses by distance, and demanded night pay after six in the evening.
Yet for Angela, he came running day or night without complaint. His magic was mostly used to make Yulian’s life miserable—sometimes merely humiliating her, other times framing her for things she hadn’t done. Magic was truly insidious. Even if you knew who was responsible, there was never any proof.
“Tch. Great mages of the Mage Tower, whining like this. Isn’t this the kind of thing you deal with using a little magic?”
“Sir Roxita, get out of the way!”
The moment Lucas spoke in an irritated tone, Yulian knew instinctively that he was about to do something. Before Roxita—who still hadn’t grasped the situation and was casually raising his sword—could react, she shoved his back with all her strength and tried to flee in the opposite direction.
But she had overlooked two things: she wasn’t on flat ground, but inside a carriage—and Lucas, as Mage Tower Lord, had more than enough mana to cast a spell that covered the entire carriage.
“Lady!”
A blinding flash of light erupted, and in an instant, both the carriage and Yulian vanished. Roxita and the knights panicked, searching frantically, while the mages hid behind Lucas, smug with satisfaction.
Lucas himself felt nothing in particular, as if he had merely swatted away a gnat. Only a vague sense of déjà vu lingered—the feeling that he had heard the woman’s voice screaming from the carriage somewhere before.
‘Where have I heard that voice?’
Well, whatever. If he couldn’t remember, it must not have been important. Lucas turned around dismissively—then immediately regretted it.
Only then did he realize who the woman was. Or rather, it was when he saw the enraged knight glaring at him with murderous intent that he understood exactly whose wrath he had provoked.
Before he could even dodge, the furious Sword Master’s aura blade came crashing down on him.
“Ghk—! Bartholomew Edgar?!”
“You dare lay a hand on her again?!”
As he was struck head-on by the storm of aura and sent flying, Lucas regretted everything. He had been bitten by a mad dog—right in its own front yard. And he knew exactly what that meant.
“Oh wow. The Mage Tower Lord is completely screwed.”
For once, Roxita’s loose mouth was perfectly on point.
* * *
A flash of light filled her vision, and the carriage shook violently with a loud crash. Yulian screamed briefly and covered her head. After a moment, the jolting stopped, and silence settled around her. Gasping for breath, she quickly climbed out of the carriage.
“—Where am I?”
She looked around in a daze. The Mage Tower Lord, the knights—none of them were there. All that remained was a dark, deserted alley. It seemed Lucas had teleported her away along with the carriage.
“XXX XX XX X.”
Muttering a string of curses too obscene to even leave as initials, she exited the alley. Since only the carriage and she had been sent—without the horse—Yulian had no choice but to walk. A perfect case of involuntary endurance training.
At least there was one saving grace: the area looked familiar. It didn’t seem she’d been sent very far. Once she reached a brighter street, she soon spotted the shopping district they had passed earlier.
“That bastard Mage Tower Lord probably dumped me nearby because he didn’t want to waste mana. I need to get back quickly—”
If her memory was right, it would only take about ten minutes on foot to reach the Knights’ Union. Worried that the knights might get into trouble because she’d vanished—and might end up doing something extreme again—Yulian quickened her pace.
“We can all overcome this crisis together!”
Then she noticed a massive crowd gathered in the plaza ahead. Since it was the center of the shopping district, she briefly wondered if there was a big sale going on, but the hardened expressions on the people’s faces told her otherwise.
Several children wove through the crowd, collecting money in baskets. In front of the masses, an angry-looking man stood atop a stack of wooden crates, delivering a long, impassioned speech with a grim face and raised voice.
“People! Vile criminals are hiding among us, corrupting the world! Together, we must root out the sinners named by the oracle and burn them to death!”
