MDRH 71

Chapter 71

“Of course. It was ten years ago.”

Arkel explained that he had once run into Ratavis by chance ten years earlier.

“When I invited him to join the Tower, he refused, saying he had to restore his family’s name.”

Of course, Arkel had suggested that Ratavis could build enough strength to revive his family by joining the Tower first.

But Ratavis had been firm.

— ‘The power I seek isn’t something so simple. The power you people locked away in that Tower can’t even begin to imagine.’

Arkel said he had sensed a strange, uncontainable anger radiating from Ratavis back then.

“And you say this man really made his way into the Imperial Palace?”

“There’s a witness. This portrait was drawn based on that child’s description.”

“A child?”

“A girl named Lucillea—the same one you just met.”

Arkel chuckled under his breath.

“She’s quite an unusual, remarkable child. This portrait is so detailed, it looks as though the man was sitting right in front of her while she drew it.”

“She is clever,” Elbadin admitted.

Though… fearless to a fault.

When he murmured that last part, the smile at the corner of Arkel’s eyes deepened.

“You care about her a great deal, don’t you?”

“…”

After a short pause, Elbadin replied, “I care for all the children of the Grand Duke’s house.”

“Of course you do.”

Arkel let out a hearty laugh, then turned his gaze to the coded message next to the portrait.

The smile faded slowly from his face.

“It’s written in the ancient tongue,” he said at last.

He reached out, brushing his hand across the parchment.

At his touch, the runes glowed faintly. Some letters vanished, others deepened. The jumbled script shimmered and rearranged itself until they finally revealed something legible.

Arkel studied it in silence, then spoke slowly.

“The Crown of Cepheus.”

“…”

His gaze shifted to Elbadin.

“There will be trouble in the North.”

***

Several days passed after they returned to the North.

The Grand Duke’s mansion was restless. Investigations into Ratavis and the coded message consumed nearly every moment.

But aside from that tense atmosphere, a new change had come to Lucillea’s daily life—

—namely, the arrival of Arkel Lamer, the Tower Master.

Arkel decided to remain at the Grand Duke’s estate for the time being to investigate what had happened in the palace. During that stay, he also agreed to teach Lucillea alchemy.

—“That bitter medicine you made me when I was sick from the Gate… how do you make it?”

—“Why do you want to know?”

—“So I can drink it the next time I pass through a Gate. Better to know how to make it in advance.”

—“…Are you interested in alchemy?”

—“Me? Of course I am!”

As Arkel had been lamenting the decline of alchemists in the Tower, he gladly agreed to pass his knowledge on to Lucillea.

That day too, Lucillea met Arkel in the glass garden. Recently, talking about herbs with him had become part of her routine.

She crouched on the floor, gently running her fingers along the veins of the plants, humming as she inspected them one by one. Then she looked back over her shoulder at Arkel.

“Huh? The Crown of Cepheus?”

She was addressing Arkel, who sat comfortably in a chair in the middle of the garden.

On his lap perched Cookie, happily pecking at Arkel’s beard like it was a toy.

That morning, Lucillea had badgered and pleaded until Arkel finally revealed what word had appeared in the coded message. She had argued that since she had encountered Ratavis directly, any knowledge she gained about the message might be useful.

At first, Arkel had completely ignored her, but in the end, worn down by her persistence, he secretly shared the word with her.

“The Crown of Cepheus.”

Lucillea blinked her big eyes rapidly.

“So… what does it mean?”

Arkel paused his play with Cookie and answered.

“The Crown of Cepheus means the King of the North.”

The King of the North?

Her eyes darted as she thought, then suddenly lit up. She jumped to her feet.

“Oh! That’s the Grand Duke, isn’t it?!”

Arkel chuckled, dangling his beard once more near Cookie’s beak.

“That’s right.”

“I knew it!” Lucillea clenched her little fist in triumph.

But then another thought struck her.

“Wait—why would something like that be written down? There’s no way they sent a carrier pigeon in the middle of the night with a message like that for no reason.”

Arkel only gave a vague smile, stroking his beard.

“Indeed. We still don’t know the reason. The pigeon died, so we couldn’t even trace where it was heading.”

“…”

Lucillea pressed her lips shut, feeling guilty.

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t Cookie who killed that suspicious mage’s pigeon…

On the contrary, Cookie had been a gentleman about it.

Rather than kill it, he’d simply headbutted the poor bird and knocked it unconscious.

So why had it suddenly burst into flames? That was what Lucillea found strange.

She pouted, and Arkel laughed softly.

“I’m not blaming you. That fire was likely the mage’s doing.”

“Huh? The mage? How?”

“There are spells like that. If a carrier pigeon carrying secret information fails its mission, the magic makes it burst into flames automatically.”

“Wow… that’s cruel.”

“Sometimes secrecy leaves no other choice.”

“Then… maybe that mage already knows the message fell into someone else’s hands.”

“Most likely.”

Arkel nodded slowly.

Then Lucillea asked, “Tower Master Grandpa, what do you think?”

“About what?”

“Why would the code mention the Grand Duke?”

“Hmm.”

Arkel stroked his white beard thoughtfully.

“The North…”

He tilted his head back, gazing at the light filtering through the glass ceiling, glinting off the ends of his beard.

“The North has always been a land besieged by threats.”

The Duchy of Descartes stretched across rugged mountains that served as the Empire’s natural barrier—a fortress gifted by nature itself.

Unlike the South, the North was rich in hard ores that made it ideal for raising armies.

But winters brought brutal blizzards, and swarms of monsters frequently spilled over the borders.

It was a land steeped in blood and battle.

A land worth coveting, yet too fearsome to seize.

Most of all, the military strength of Descartes—who had survived in that harsh land and risen to be called the “King of the North”—was formidable enough that even the Emperor could not dismiss it lightly.

In such a place, anyone who was not ally was enemy.

“So whoever wrote that message… it’s not surprising that they would try to shake the North.”

Whatever the reason for the phrase, it was certainly not written with good intent.

Arkel added this quietly, and Lucillea nodded.

“But they’ll resolve it, won’t they? It’s just one more threat among many. The elite squad of mages and knights is already on standby too.”

“True. Though the Elite Corps wasn’t created for that purpose, it has proven useful.”

“Huh?” Lucillea tilted her head.

“They weren’t created for that purpose?”

“No. Why? You didn’t know?”

“Wasn’t the whole point of recruiting children with special abilities to prepare for things like this?”

Arkel sighed. “My, my. You joined the Elite Corps yourself, yet you don’t know?”

“Know what? What?”

His gaze lowered slightly as he spoke.

“You’ve heard of the tragic incident eight years ago in the Grand Duke’s house, haven’t you?”

“Yes, I’ve heard.”

“And that the Grand Duke lost his wife and child in that event?”

Lucillea nodded quietly.

“The Elite Corps… was created to find that lost bloodline.”

“…What?”

Her eyes shook violently at the unexpected revelation.

What?!

To find… me?