Episode 33. Within the Illusion
In his dream, Binaeril felt a warm touch.
A touch he had only felt long ago, filled with worry.
Those small hands brushed across every part of Binaeril’s face.
His senses were vividly awake, but he was clearly deep asleep.
It felt as though his mind had forcibly shut out other energies in order to drive out the demonic energy.
Within the illusion, Binaeril was keenly aware of his surroundings.
He heard the owner of the hands conversing with another.
“Is he still hot?”
“Yeah. The fever won’t go down. Why is that?”
“Could it be because he overexerted himself in Fairhill?”
That might have been it.
Veritas had swallowed the hounds’ magic stones whole, and on top of that, had absorbed the demonic energy remaining in the Fairhill village chief’s son’s wound.
It was likely several times the demonic energy from the previous Dire Wolf incident.
Veritas was steadily digesting the absorbed demonic energies.
Even within the illusion, he felt as if he could hear its delighted shrieks.
Even if he had ignored the matter at Fairhill and the village chief’s son and simply left, no one would have blamed him.
‘I meddled for no reason. I could have just ignored it.’
By now, blaming himself was pointless.
For now, he could only pray for a swift recovery.
“He overdoes it by taking everything on himself for no reason. If he’d cooperated slowly, he wouldn’t have collapsed like this.”
The grumbling voice was probably Sylvia’s.
“But thanks to that, the village people barely suffered any harm.”
The voice defending him with warm words seemed to be Rike’s.
“That’s… true.”
A brief silence fell.
A squeaking sound could be heard as something was wrung out.
A cool piece of cloth was placed on his forehead. It seemed to be a damp towel.
“Binaeril really seems like a mage.”
“He is a mage, isn’t he?”
“No, that’s not what I mean.”
Rike shifted her eyes as she chose her words.
“You said Binaeril was a junior until right before he met us. And that he’d been a junior for a long time.”
“I’ve heard the rumors about the perpetual failing student.”
Sylvia answered with a laugh in her voice.
“Ah, a-anyway. But he passed every class and exam with top marks, caught the teacher’s eye, and now there’s probably no one our age who can match Binaeril. Just look at the magic he showed this morning.”
The sound of someone swallowing.
“I’ve never seen magic like that.”
In the quiet village, the two girls’ voices murmured on.
“Hey, Sylvia. Why do you think the teacher sent Binaeril with us?”
When Director Julio had first brought him, Rike had thought it was the teacher’s wish for her to make more friends.
Because Binaeril was just a student. And one with quite the unsavory rumors at that, the so-called perpetual failing student.
However, Binaeril had proven his worth before even half a year had passed.
He hunted demonic beasts alone, proved his skill in the tournament, and led them to pass the Skala Exam.
Just from this morning’s battle alone, it was impossible to know what would have become of Fairhill if Binaeril hadn’t been there.
He was now a fully-fledged mage.
“Your Highness, you know what the Director’s plan is, don’t you?”
“Yeah. He’s trying to improve our relationship with Albrecht.”
“To do that, you and your sister must do your best.”
“We must. To repay the teacher, if nothing else.”
“This kid will be of help in that matter.”
“What help?”
“…A war might break out. A quiet one.”
Whether the royal faction or the noble faction took power, the generational shift in the Albrecht Empire would not happen peacefully.
But neither side would want to reveal the empire’s division to the outside.
A cold, quiet war without armies or gunpowder.
In this era, there was a weapon suited to it.
That weapon was magic.
That was the meaning of the “quiet war” Sylvia had spoken of.
The mage called Binaeril Dalheim might become one of the greatest weapons the royal faction possessed on that battlefield.
“Your Highness, you must remember.”
Rike raised sad eyes to look at her mature attendant.
“When the time comes, you must be able to discard me, and Binaeril as well, like weeds. Never sacrifice yourself as you did during Violet again.”
She knew how great a wound the name of her younger sister was to Sylvia as well.
Sylvia stared at her liege with an uncharacteristically cold face, and the all-too-young princess could only nod, spurred on by that gaze.
“Shh. Quiet.”
Ozwin lowered his stance and looked around at the young men.
The time they had gathered was 1 a.m., when all the village people would be asleep.
The young men were huddled together on the stairs leading up to the inn’s second floor.
Gathered together, their appearances were a sight to behold.
A guy with a farming sickle, a guy with an iron poker, even a guy who had stolen a kitchen knife from the inn kitchen.
“What are you?”
Ozwin asked, looking at the guy with a holed rice sack turned over on his head.
“I’m Rick, the miller’s son?”
“Sigh, you crazy bastard. Enough. Just do as you’re told.”
At least Ozwin was the best off. He had a notched longsword and wore padded armor, so he at least looked somewhat armed.
Ozwin was also the one playing the role of leader of the temporary bandit group to rob the young mages.
They were staying in the best room at the end of the inn’s second floor.
As he pushed the door slightly, the hinges of the old inn room squeaked like thunder.
Ozwin felt sweat beading in his right hand, which gripped the longsword.
Ozwin slowly raised his left hand and pushed the door.
Screeeech—
The sound of the old hinges seemed to ring like thunder.
‘Pssssht.’
Ozwin, still in his crouched position, raised his index finger to quiet his group.
…Faint breathing could be heard.
The mages were clearly asleep.
“Let’s go in.”
Just then.
Wham!
A kick flew out of the darkness, and Ozwin tumbled backward.
“I had a feeling this would happen.”
While everyone slept, Sylvia had not let her guard down.
The greedy eyes the Rostock village chief had shown, and even the meal he had kindly provided though they never asked.
Not dispelling her suspicions, Sylvia had thrown all the bread to the birds as feed.
She also hadn’t forgotten to tear breadcrumbs by hand and scatter them over the tray.
It was to make it look as though they had naturally finished their meal.
Sylvia left the room where the two were sleeping and quietly closed the door.
She hadn’t wanted to disturb Binaeril and Rike’s rest.
“What are you guys?”
The armored man lying on the ground with a flustered face.
Behind him were strapping young men staring up at her with wide, frightened eyes.
“Well, well. A sickle, a pickaxe, an iron poker… what’s with that one?”
“I’m Rick, the miller’s son….”
“What an accomplishment.”
Seeing how they covered their faces with rice sacks, it didn’t look like they were here for anything friendly.
“Is it about money?”
The men exchanged glances. The goal was obvious, wasn’t it?
“She’s just one girl. Get her!”
The group of attackers wielding farming tools charged at Sylvia.
Binaeril was still within the illusion.
Perhaps thanks to Rike’s worried touch.
Binaeril was dreaming of his mother for the first time in a very long while.
His dreams of his mother were always similar.
Memories of his youth. His kind mother. And at the end, the Dalheim mansion engulfed in flames.
At the edge of the dream’s end, Binaeril was always blaming himself, crying, or terrified.
They were emotions too distant now.
To dream of one he had failed to protect as a boy.
It was around then that the acrid smell of blood began to seep through the musty wood scent of the timber-built inn.
Binaeril reflexively woke from the illusion and raised his body.
“Rike? Sylvia?”
By the bedside, one person was asleep with her head resting on a cushion.
It was Rike.
“Sylvia?”
Having confirmed one person’s safety, Binaeril called the other party member’s name.
……Not here.
Vaguely noisy sounds could be heard from beyond the door.
Binaeril fully raised his body and left the room.
“Damn it.”
Sylvia was struggling.
If her opponent had been a demonic beast, she wouldn’t have been struggling so much.
But the fact that her opponents were civilians was weakening her resolve.
The hastily assembled group of young attackers charged at her chaotically, relying only on strength.
These kinds of people were more difficult to deal with than armed and trained soldiers.
Because she had to hold back her strength.
She didn’t want anyone getting seriously hurt or dying and making the situation bigger.
Moreover, the location was to her disadvantage.
In the narrow hallway and landing, Sylvia had no proper space to avoid attacks.
Ozwin noticed this and urged his friends on, commanding:
“Attack more, more! Push in with your bodies! That girl can’t do anything to us!”
The head of Rick the miller’s son, who had been confronting Sylvia, burst inside the rice sack.
At the sound of a life collapsing, the battle briefly entered a lull.
Neither Sylvia nor the bandits could immediately grasp the surreal situation.
“What? Who is it?”
“A patient.”
Binaeril appeared, opening the door with a dazed expression.
“Who the hell is this brat!”
One young man approached the short boy with a sickle.
“Kkgh!”
The guy clutched his neck with both hands, let out a choking sound, and collapsed on the spot.
His eyes rolled back far enough to show the whites, making it obvious at a glance that he had become a corpse.
There had been no warning, no incantation.
Ozwin felt his spine crawl.
‘That fucking chief bastard, he tricked us!’
Hadn’t the chief clearly told them they had been fed sleeping potions?
Yet two out of the three had greeted them with wide-open eyes.
Among the stiffened people, the gray-haired boy opened his eyes.
Reason returned slower than instinct.
Judging by the lack of focus in his eyes, this one was the real thing.
He was a human of a completely different caliber from the girl who had been struggling, unable to do anything to them.
“What are you?”
“W-we are….”
Ozwin felt his jaw chatter and tremble in fear.
At some point, a chill ran through his entire body as if he had entered an ice warehouse.
As a result, the words wouldn’t come out of his mouth.
“What are you saying? Speak clearly.”
-They’re the village chief’s henchmen.
Though no words had been spoken, the boy seemed to have convinced himself.
But before Ozwin could even catch his breath, the second question flew immediately.
“What did you come here for?”
-Blinded by money, of course.
“You must have paid the chief, no?”
-You fools. Would you let a golden goose go so easily? Of course you’d try to cut it open.
“Unbelievable bastards.”
Amazingly, during the several exchanges, Ozwin’s group hadn’t answered a single word.
Binaeril slowly pushed his palm forward at a sluggish pace.
But the speed at which Ozwin and the others were slammed into the wall was not so sluggish.
“Kuk!”
“Not content with stealing gold coins, you tried to harm people too? Speak. Was this your own decision? Or are you acting on someone’s orders.”