Interlude: The Farzian Spellcaster

This man truly wasn’t suited for battle. He traveled in a carriage like a noblewoman, not a single sword to be found on his person. The size of his belly, large enough to prove a hindrance to running, was easy to see in spite of the doublet he wore. His arms looked so weak that, if he were to swing a sword around just ten times, his muscles would almost certainly ache for days to come.

When Isaac snorted disapprovingly, Mikhail gave him a light kick in the shin from the side. What an impudent servant. Then again, Isaac himself was the one who had encouraged Mikhail to adopt such a plainspoken attitude. Besides, it wasn’t as though the boot to the leg had actually hurt, so he quietly tolerated it.

He took another long look at the man—the viscount of Credias—as he got out of his carriage. The nobleman didn’t look like a spellcaster to Isaac. Ever since he had first met the viscount during their joint occupation of Trisphede, he hadn’t witnessed the man so much as lift a finger of his own. He had worked his defective spellcasters until they’d exhausted their lives, using them to break down the walls of Trisphede Castle, send the place up in smoke, and then freeze it over again.

Salekhard’s soldiers had nearly been caught in the crossfire, which had sent Isaac into a cold sweat. Thus, he hadn’t been left with a particularly favorable impression of the man.

After all, defective spellcasters had lost all semblances of rationality. All they could do was attack whatever was in front of them or mindlessly shoot spells. They couldn’t distinguish between enemy and ally. The only reason the viscount had been safe from their attacks was because his power as spellcaster gave him control over them.

Isaac had no idea what other kind of magic the man could wield. He found the complete lack of intel most aggravating of all.

Regardless, what would serve Isaac in the moment was an amicable attitude. After Lord Erling rushed over to greet the viscount, Isaac likewise stepped forward.

“It’s been a while. I was hoping to have the chance to see you again,” he offered with a genial grin.

Lord Credias did not return his smile. Perhaps, being a spellcaster, he was quite cognizant of the fact that anybody and everybody hoped to curry favor with him. With a disinterested grunt, he civilly responded, “I’m sure our country’s summer was much hotter than you’re used to up north, Your Majesty.”

“Not at all. I found Trisphede quite the comfortable place to live.”

“Is that right? Then I’m quite happy to have helped you obtain it. Good day to you.” After making a quick bow, as if this was all a great inconvenience, Lord Credias retreated into the fort.

Isaac didn’t follow after him. Deep in thought, he simply watched the viscount go. “If that bullfrog is here, they must fully intend to butcher the prince’s army,” he muttered.

“Quiet! He can still hear you!” Mikhail hastily steered Isaac away from the entrance. He dragged him off toward the courtyard of the fort, where soldiers could be seen clashing swords. The Salekhardian general who had been standing alongside Isaac, Vasily, followed after his king.

This being a fort, there were no trees or other such convenient hiding places. There weren’t many people over by the well, so the group found a spot there. It was far enough from any onlookers that nobody would overhear their conversation.

“Did you figure something out, Your Majesty?” Vasily finally inquired in a whisper.

“You always cut straight to the point, my good general!” Isaac praised, matching the hushed tones of Vasily’s voice. Perhaps he, too, thought it wise to tread more carefully. “As I was saying... If that spellcaster is here, that must mean they plan to launch an all-out assault against the Farzian army. This could spell the end of the prince’s troops.”

“It’s hard to say what might happen. The Farzians have a spellcaster of their own, and those earthen giants of hers pose a legitimate threat. It’s difficult to chip away at earth with fire or water,” Mikhail countered. Her magic may not have looked like anything special, but it was better suited to both offense and defense than one would think; Mikhail was keeping a wary eye on her.

“I don’t doubt that Erling and the bullfrog are both well aware of that. Hence why I figured that was a part of their plan.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I heard that another spellcaster would be accompanying the bullfrog, but there’s been no sign of one. There’s a decent chance that mystery mage is lurking somewhere within Delphion,” Isaac posited.

Vasily nodded. “Good thinking.”

“If you want to crush your enemy in one fell swoop, your best options are to either get someone on the inside or to stir up internal strife. Perhaps they slipped another spellcaster into the prince’s ranks to deal with Évrard’s little miss earth mage.” Isaac smirked. “So there you have it. I’m going to single out this spellcaster and eliminate them before it’s too late.”

Isaac swelled with pride, only for Mikhail to fix him with a frown. “Do you really think it will be that simple?”

“If they’ve truly infiltrated Évrard’s ranks, they’ll be taking care not to blow their cover. There should be plenty of opportunities to take advantage of that,” Vasily chimed in.

Emboldened by his general’s agreement, Isaac doubled down on persuading Mikhail. “Even if I can’t quite finish the job, stirring up suspicion within the Farzian ranks will be more than worth it. And if I do manage to smoke them out, we’ll have killed off one of the bullfrog’s underlings. It’s a win-win situation for us.”

“Hmm. I suppose that isn’t a terrible plan...”

Right then, a young boy came running up to them. He was a Salekhardian squire.

“Your Majesty! Will you be joining Lord Erling for dinner this evening?” he asked, handing Mikhail a small piece of paper.

“His Majesty is feeling a bit out of sorts today. He’ll pass on dinner. Instruct them to bring the food to his room,” Vasily responded.

Once the squire had sprinted off, Mikhail scanned the letter and announced, “Apparently, the viscount made a stop on his way here. It was a town called Inion. I believe there’s a large fort nearby.”

“I’ll bet you anything that’s where the second spellcaster is. Alright, to Inion it is. Vasily, I need you to arrange a body double for me again.”

“From the moment you brought it up, you had every intention of making the trip yourself, didn’t you, Your Highness?” Mikhail sighed.

“I keep telling you, it’s ‘Your Majesty’!” Isaac protested, but he didn’t deny Mikhail’s accusation.

“Let it go, Mikhail. He’s always been a lone wolf. Besides, do you really think he’d listen if you told him not to?”

“I most certainly do not, General Vasily.”

“Then before he can run off on his own, you ought to send him off with a proper escort. Be sure to pick someone who can take the reins of our willful king,” Vasily advised. In other words, he was telling Mikhail to take the second best option.

Mikhail drooped. “Everyone’s already pretty frustrated with us, you realize? It wasn’t that long ago that the two of us were trapped inside Cassia. All the men stuck waiting outside the city came complaining to me about their ulcers.”

“But he had you with him, didn’t he?”

“I was only there because His Highness dragged me along. He claimed that having a child with him would strengthen his disguise.”

“In that case, let’s have you join him again, Mikhail.”

Mikhail looked thoroughly put out.