The Sorcerers’ Struggle

The Sorcerers’ Struggle

A large explosion roared, and the resulting shock wave shook the wagon.

“He’s really going at it,” I muttered. My offhanded opinion was decidedly casual for the situation, considering that I was sprawled inside of the wagon’s freight compartment.

My whole body was sore from being laid across the hard floorboards for so long, and there was a tingling sensation beginning in my left arm, which was trapped beneath my body. I’d just about managed to roll onto my back, and I breathed a sigh of relief. That motion hadn’t been easy with my arms and legs tied up—I was basically a caterpillar.

A fireball streaked across the sky with a woosh, barely visible through a gap where the wagon’s canopy had curled up. Obviously, that magic hadn’t come from me; I was still a caterpillar.

“He really is going at it.” I muttered the same thing again, letting out a dry chuckle.

My—Teo Eilenberg’s—current location was on the outskirts of the Kingdom of Nevel, on a mountain road near the border with the neighboring Kingdom of Vint.

It was nighttime, and three days had passed since the attempted murder of Hilde Kremer by suspected spy Nicholas von Buro. In that time, rebels had infiltrated the palace, abducted Lutz and me, stuffed us into sacks, and thrown us into the cargo compartment of a wagon for transport.

There wasn’t much magic we could’ve used to hatch an escape, thanks to the power-restricting chokers we wore. We sorcerers didn’t possess much physical strength either, so once our magic was sealed off, our avenue for struggle was closed.

I had not fancied collecting any bruises, so I’d resigned myself to sliding around the freight compartment like a sack of potatoes. However, the proud magical genius Lutz had different ideas.

Just under an hour after the wagon had begun its ascent up the uneven mountain road, my sack was opened. Lutz had tried to escape, and he’d been about to cut my bonds using a knife he’d hidden in the sole of his shoe. While he was doing this though, one of the rebels who’d followed on horseback noticed that something was amiss, so he’d halted our wagon.

Lutz didn’t get a chance to cut my restraints, and left me to be a caterpillar as he prepared for a fight.

His only weapons were a knife small enough to fit inside his palm, and three magical gems, which were basically rocks infused with power. The gems weren’t the easiest tools to use; only sorcerers with vast reserves of magic could handle them, and they would shatter and disappear after only a single activation.

These gems had been crafted by our teacher, Irene von Altman, so that Lutz had a means to defend himself even with his magic restricted.

And that’s why there were currently fireballs shooting through the sky, despite fire magic being the complete opposite of Lutz’s magical affinity.

The fireball from a moment ago had been the third one cast, marking the end of Lutz’s gem supply. A little bit of time passed after that last spell before the canopy was flung open. A man turned up with scorch marks on the edges of his clothes, and he was carrying Lutz on his shoulder. Lutz had again been tied up.

“In you go!” said the man as he chucked Lutz violently into the freight compartment.

“Oof!” Lutz grunted as he landed.

Lutz’s current state cut a pitiful figure. It looked as if they’d run a check to see whether he’d concealed any more weapons. His clothes were dirty, and there were quite a few new bruises on his pale skin. They’d taken his shoes away, leaving him with bare feet. On top of that, they’d tied him with rope from head to toe.

The glistening choker around his neck was the visual cherry on the disheveled cake.

The sight of it was so weird that I almost had to look away. Lutz’s exceptional good looks did him no favors in this instance—he had the appearance of a pretty boy who’d survived an unfortunate run-in with a pervert.

“Don’t worry, Lutz. I’ll tell the princess not to ask too many questions about the state of your anus.”

“You’ll have an icicle up yours before that happens.” Lutz shot daggers at me in response to my lighthearted jest.

Looks like the moderate beating he took has done a good job of pissing him off. I shrugged my shoulders with a sigh, not feeling particularly remorseful over my joke.

“That’s what you get for wasting your time and resisting,” I said. “Just stay put. We have no chance of getting away without our magic anyway.”

“Shut it,” Lutz responded. “Don’t tell me what to do.” He turned his face away from me in a huff.

I mirrored the motion and rotated my body so that I was facing the opposite direction from Lutz, pretending to be fed up with him.

After a small delay, a man climbed into the cargo compartment. Until now, the rebels had prioritized the wagon’s speed, and so they hadn’t left anyone to watch us.

But after Lutz’s escape stunt, they must have decided that we deserved closer observation.

“Do me a favor and don’t make my day any harder,” the man said, glaring at us.

I recognized him. He was Nicholas von Buro, a knight of the royal guard, and a traitor. He’d abandoned his duties to protect Nevel, and then turned on his master.

All in all though, he’d made things easier by coming to guard us himself.

“There’s nowhere in this world for you anyway,” Nicholas spat out. “You’re best off sucking up to your owner and getting them to treat you nice.” He made no effort to hide his contempt, and then broke into derisive laughter at our expense.

“I suppose so,” I said with a complacent smile. “I’ll be a good pet dog and work my very best for my master.”

“That’s the spirit,” Nicholas chortled.

Okay. The plan’s working for the moment, it seems.

My whole monologue up to this point had followed a prearranged script.

The attack on the palace, our abduction, Lutz’s resistance and its failure—everything had proceeded exactly as laid out in the scenario designed by the first prince, Christoph von Velfalt.

***

Let’s turn the clock back by three days.

On the night that Hilde Kremer had suffered her wound, Lutz and I were escorted to a small and narrow room for questioning. Or at least that was the pretense.

After being ushered and crammed into the room, we were greeted by a gaggle of distinguished faces: the first prince, the captain of the royal guard, and our teacher, Miss Irene von Altman.

While we held our breath, the first prince announced to us that he wanted our assistance.

He provided us with a brief explanation and details of the conspiracy that was brewing under the surface—the king of Skelluts had concocted a scheme to abduct Lutz, and the person helping him was a knight in Nevel’s royal guard. The maid who’d been making approaches to Lutz also worked for that spy. And finally, the princess had discovered the maid just moments before the rebels could ensure Hilde’s eternal silence.

He told us everything.

At first, I was too overwhelmed to do anything. But as bits and pieces started to fit together in my mind, I felt the urge to give myself a good kick. I shot a look at Lutz by my side, and like me—no, worse than me—his face was distorted.

He’d hung his head and was biting his lips. His fists were clenched with all his might, and they were trembling slightly.

“So the princess...all this time, she was protecting us?” Lutz muttered in amazement.

He’d voiced the exact same thought that was in my mind.

The princess had been deeply interested in Lutz’s relationship with the maid. At first, I’d wondered whether her inquiries had stemmed from some age-appropriate fondness that young girls have for tales of romance. But she’d never seemed all that excited about the topic. If anything, I remembered her waiting for Lutz’s reaction uneasily.

Thinking back on it now, the princess was afraid. Afraid that Lutz would fall in love with the maid and find himself being used.

She’d taken so much time out of her busy schedule to spend hours upon hours with us—this was probably also for our sake. It was her way of bringing Lutz and me under the protection of her personal guard.

Such a little girl had stood in front of us, had stretched her arms out in a desperate attempt to protect us.

And what exactly did I do? I’d known that something was worrying her, but I hadn’t even stopped to think that maybe we were the cause of her trouble.

“I’m so pathetic.” I tried to laugh in order to smooth over my intense feelings of inadequacy, but I couldn’t even do that right. All that managed to escape my contorted lips was a hoarse sound.

“Why?!” Lutz asked, enraged. “Why did you entrust that job to the princess?! If someone had just told me about this, I wouldn’t have needed anyone else. I can protect myself!”

“Calm down, Lutz,” I responded. “You know it’s not as easy as that.”

Physically annihilating our enemies sounded simple, but that wasn’t a good enough plan.

After I rebuked him, Lutz ground his teeth and turned his face away, frustrated.

“My sister wasn’t acting on my orders. Although I will admit that, speaking in terms of results, I have made use of her.” The prince had been observing us without revealing any emotions on his face, and he rebutted Lutz in a subdued tone.

What do you mean, “my sister wasn’t acting on my orders”?

I struggled to grasp what he was saying, and I expressed my question through my gaze. The prince looked down and heaved a long sigh.

“I did tell her to keep you both in her thoughts, but I said nothing more than that,” the prince revealed. “First of all, there’s no way I would’ve divulged precious information to a young princess, especially intel which could initiate a conflict on the scale of entire nations.”

I said nothing.

“She’s smart,” the prince declared. “And she takes the initiative. She’s capable of coming to her own conclusions, making decisions, and taking action so as to produce the optimal outcome. She can do all of this, regardless of whether she’s been ordered to or not.”

The prince continued, still straight-faced: “At times, the extent of my little sister’s excellence leaves me prone to the ridiculous delusion that she might actually be able to see the future. Although in this case, that competency of hers has worked against her—she’s embroiled herself in a conflict that she should never have been involved with.”

Lutz and I gaped at the prince’s explanation.

Taking his words at face value could only mean one thing: the princess had figured out our predicament with no orders from anyone and had taken action, all on her own initiative.

A young girl who’s only just reached double digits in age. She did all of that.

“Excellent” didn’t begin to describe her.

It should have been nearly impossible to connect the dots between the irregularities occurring in the palace. Even more than just that, the princess was able to draw the correct conclusion without any prior information. Her abilities truly verged on premonition.

“To confound matters even further, she’s caught even the king’s attention,” the prince said.

“The king... You can’t mean—?!” I shouted, going pale.

“No. Nevel’s, not Skelluts’s,” the prince clarified immediately.

Oh, thank God. Just the thought of that blood-crazed War-Hungry King setting his eyes on the princess had drained the color from my face.

“By Nevel’s king, you mean, your...?” Lutz asked in bewilderment.

“That’s right,” the prince confirmed. “Our father. He doesn’t really see us as his children. He views us merely as subordinates who happen to be related to him. He’ll put us to work if he deems us useful, but otherwise he’ll set us aside. Unfortunately, my sister would’ve fared better if he’d deemed her useless.”

It sounds like the king has marked her down as “useful.”

The prince’s expression had remained inexpressive while he spoke, but bitterness tinged his voice. This whole situation must not have been to his liking.

“So he thinks she’s useful, but what exactly does he plan to make her do?” I asked.

“Act as bait,” the prince responded.

“What?!”

“You two are the enemy’s targets. But the rebels need to take a hostage in order to blackmail you both into performing to their will,” said the prince. “At the moment, even I agree that my sister is the one most suited for that role.”

“Use her as bait?” Lutz muttered, and his voice went hoarse. He must’ve been resisting an urge to jump down the prince’s throat. His face looked horribly savage.

“You’re out of your mind,” Lutz whispered.

Lutz’s attitude towards the prince was much too rude, though maybe it was a little late to be pointing that out. The rational part of my mind ordered me to stop him. My emotions, however, disobeyed, and no words of rebuke left my mouth.

To be honest, I felt the same way that he did.

“In other words,” I said, “you’re going to allow the princess to be abducted so that you can use her rescue as an excuse to capture all of the rebels.”

You’re out of your mind, Prince. She wasn’t born a princess to get caught up in something so stupid. We didn’t—I didn’t—stick by her side, just to drag her into all of this.

A terrible, ferocious impulse rose up from the pits of my stomach. My body temperature spiked suddenly in response. Heat gathered in my hands. The choker that was fastened around my neck let out an audible ping.

Suddenly, a flood of cold water washed over my head. Literally.

“Calm down, my silly apprentices.”

The slender beauty who’d directed the water at me let out a sigh as she watched my floundering. Her good looks presented themselves with an intelligent, bookish image—her black hair was tied neatly above her head, and a monocle glinted on her left eye.

Miss Irene von Altman, our teacher, had just been watching patiently until that moment. But in order to pull me back from the brink of anger, she’d summoned water with her magic and poured it over my head.

Her affinity was for fire magic, but she dumped water onto me with ease—none of Nevel’s other sorcerers could so effectively wield magic with the opposite affinity to their own.

“Like Prince Christoph would ever permit such a thing,” Miss Irene remarked.

“Huh?”

“However bland he may look, the prince thinks that his little sister is the cutest, most precious thing in the world,” she said.

“Miss Altman.” The prince glared at Miss Irene, telling her without words to keep her mouth shut. But he didn’t refute her assertion.

This whole time, I’d found his lack of expressions unsettling; I couldn’t work out what he was thinking. I’d felt outraged while watching him chatter dispassionately, even though the topic concerned a threat to his sister’s safety.

Aren’t you worried about her? I’d thought. But maybe he’s just not great at expressing his emotions, and that’s all there is to it.

Once I realized that, and saw the look on his face, with his eyebrows heavily furrowed, I was convinced that Miss Irene had hit the nail on the head.

“Oops, how rude of me.” Our teacher didn’t flinch at the prince’s cold glare. Rather, she sidestepped it with a broad grin.

As if he was aware that she could run circles around him in an argument, the prince let Miss Irene’s discourtesy slide. He heaved a sigh, then continued his talk.

“I have no intention of drawing my sister any further into this matter,” the prince said to Lutz and me. “That’s why I need assistance from the both of you.”

***

The wagon’s speed had dropped while we were ascending the hills, but it suddenly began to pick up again. It seemed that we’d made it over the peak of the mountain pass.

While listening to the creaking wheels, which sounded as if they were on the verge of breaking, I recalled what the captain of the royal guard had said.

The captain had watched us nod without delay to the prince’s request for assistance. He’d then retrieved a folded piece of paper from his pocket and splayed it across the top of an old desk.

It was a map. It displayed Nevel’s northernmost reaches, which occupied part of a craggy mountainous region, where the borders of four other countries jostled for space.

He’d said that the shortest route from Nevel to Skelluts necessitated crossing those mountains. A journey to Skelluts without passing through a neighboring country would be impossible, no matter the route taken, but traveling along the mountain roads would minimize time spent in other countries.

By traversing the mountain roads rather than the highways of the flatlands, the rebels would also have a smaller risk of being spotted. At the same time, there was nowhere to escape from the mountain passes, so the probability that the rebels might take a different route to Skelluts wasn’t zero.

“That’s where these come in,” our teacher had piped up.

She’d dropped three magic gems into Lutz’s palms, with an explanation that they could release fireballs. She’d instructed him to find any opportunity to resist, and then shoot them into the sky.

If we ended up taking the mountain path, he was to wait for about an hour after we’d begun our ascent; if we took the highways in the flatlands, he was to shoot them after we’d left the urban area.

She’d told him to base his decision on the noises outside, the evenness of the ground, and the angle of the wagon, as his vision would likely be impaired.

He was given plainly visible weapons—under no circumstances was he to use his own magic while resisting.

All of this was to lull the enemy into a false sense of security. That was also why the magic gems were of a fire affinity, a kind of magic that Lutz definitely couldn’t use himself. I’d been warned not to take part in it, just to be safe.

When they’d restrained us in the palace, I hadn’t put up much resistance, in order to dupe them into believing that all they’d need to control me was the choker.

Thanks to my passivity, it appeared that they’d given up on snatching the princess while they took us. The rebels must’ve reasoned that, if they had both me and Lutz, we could be used as each other’s hostages.

Besides, the first prince had stayed by the princess’s side throughout the raid, so they couldn’t have tried anything to harm her. At that moment, her room had been the safest place in all of Nevel.

The prince had promised that he’d stop at nothing to protect the princess, so Lutz and I resolved to do everything in our power to resist, and to fight.

Let’s go home soon. Back to where the princess is waiting for us.

In the wagon, something cold suddenly brushed against my neck. Still with his back facing me, Lutz had made a cut in the rope that tied my hands together, using a small blade of magically conjured ice. He then slipped the chunk of ice into my hands, so I cut into the rope around my legs, feigning a change in posture. I then summoned heat to my hands and melted the ice.

After that, all that remained was to wait.

If we’d been traveling on the highways through the flatlands, we would’ve probably stopped to change horses at one of the towns along the way. But on the shortest route through the mountains, there was nothing to do but press forward. The horses, however, were already nearing their limit, and there was no time to take a break. Therefore, there’d probably be another group waiting for us somewhere with fresh mounts.

If the enemies waiting for us near the border of Skelluts and Vint were only hired goons, then Lutz and I would need to ride all the way to the castle of Skelluts to enact our plan.

I’d rather avoid that. The potential for a successful escape diminished the closer we were to the enemy’s heartland.

But it’s not certain that things will go that way—first of all, would the king really hand his hard-won new magical toys to people who might betray him at the drop of a hat? The king might instead send people he can trust, maybe a unit under his personal control. He’d have to take into account the fact that any pursuers would need to tread lightly while crossing two countries.

Am I naive to think that?

“Almost there,” Nicholas muttered under his breath. He’d lifted up the canopy slightly, and his eyes were narrowed as he gazed absentmindedly at the passing scenery.

“At long last, the moment I’ve been waiting for is here,” he declared. “Gone are the wretched days of my poverty. Gone are the times when everyone sneered at my family behind my back, saying that the Buros were counts in name only.”

There was no regret or guilt present in his eyes. They burned with passion, glistening like those of a youth whose heart swelled with hopes of a new life.

The sight was altogether bizarre, given the current situation.

“You’re a monster,” Lutz muttered with an icy tone of voice.

“What?” Nicholas had heard him.

“You’re inhuman.” Lutz didn’t recoil from Nicholas’s glare; instead he returned a look which was just as frozen as his voice.

“Ha ha! Would you look at that,” Nicholas said, bemused. “You and your friend are the only monsters here, Lutz Eilenberg.”

“Nope. You are too,” Lutz said bluntly. “You’ve betrayed and thrown away your homeland, your king, your family, and your friends, and yet you don’t have a shred of remorse. You don’t feel the slightest affront to your conscience. That’s not what I’d call ‘human.’”

Without saying another word, Nicholas swung his foot in an arc towards Lutz, who was still laying on his side, and landed a hard kick onto Lutz’s shoulder from below.

“Oof,” Lutz whimpered.

With a blank face, Nicholas pressed his foot down on Lutz’s head. “Ridiculous. As if I’d consider those scum my family and friends. They’re nothing but rats to hold me back, and vermin who don’t appreciate my greatness.”

Nicholas put more pressure into his foot, grinding the sole of his shoe further against Lutz’s head. As Nicholas rambled, his eyes grew vacant, giving his appearance a deranged look.

“Is that how it is? ‘I don’t belong here.’ So that’s the story you tell yourself? How sad,” Lutz spat out with a smile.

Hats off to you Lutz, for withstanding the pain and not letting him see you squirm. But seriously, nobody told you to make him mad.

Nicholas’s hand grasped the sword on his hip.

I doubt he’ll go as far as to kill Lutz, but this situation isn’t good.

What now? What should I do?

I can’t afford to use magic. Should I physically stop Nicholas by tackling him? Or provoke him and divert his attention onto myself?

Just as panic began to set in and I moved to stand up, the wagon came to a halt with a tremendous jolt. I gathered that we’d reached the handover spot.

“Lucky you,” Nicholas spewed with annoyance. “You get to live another day.” He removed the hand from his sword, then lifted the canopy and exited the wagon.

I watched until his figure disappeared. The tension drained from my body and I heaved a lengthy sigh.

“Lutz, that wasn’t good for my heart.”

“What can I say?” he replied. “He got on my nerves.”

“You’re such a child,” I said.

Lutz turned away without the slightest sign of remorse. What a brat.

Immediately after I’d cursed Lutz out, several men climbed into the wagon and dragged us along the floorboards to remove us.

“Get out!” one of them ordered.

The chilly night air pricked at my skin. This area was still gloomy, but the sky in the east was starting to brighten, signaling that dawn was encroaching. A copse of trees surrounded this location, reducing visibility.

While I was examining our surroundings, someone pushed at my back, causing me to stagger forward.

“You’re here,” said an unfamiliar male voice.

I raised my head.

Standing in front of me was a muscular man. His entire body was covered in jet-black armor, with the seams and edges of the plate gilded in stripes of gold. He wore a bull-horned helmet that mirrored the same design. The sluggish movement of his cape displayed its great weight—the outer fabric was dyed black to match the armor, although the lining was a dark red. On top of that, the fabulous black horse behind the knight was dressed in armor of the same design as its master.

Clearly, his outfit wasn’t that of some ordinary soldier from the borderlands; the elegant armor probably belonged to a unit under the War-Hungry King’s personal control. The look projected strength, but also a complete lack of fashion sense.

Looks like we guessed right.

“His Majesty is waiting eagerly.”

This black knight was a man in his mid-forties, and seemed to be the unit’s commander. He stared at me, then at Lutz, and then put on a vulgar smirk.

There were only about ten subordinates behind him, but the whole bunch looked quite formidable, living up to my expectations of soldiers from the country ruled by the War-Hungry King. That physical prowess didn’t appear to extend to their brains though—I judged that they were the type to solve all of their problems with their fists.

Well, if their minds worked like a normal person’s, then they wouldn’t have sworn to serve a madman king. If your king is a foolish despot who only cares for expanding his territory, and ignores the plight of his people and their living conditions, then you should hurry up and find a new king.

“Right, c’mere,” the commander bellowed overbearingly, unaware of the ridicule he’d received in my mind.

Enemy knights took up place on either side of me and grabbed my arms violently. I shot a glance to my side upon hearing a small groan, and saw that Lutz had been similarly restrained.

Judging from the burlap sack that another man held in his hands, they planned to bag us up again. Their crude treatment provoked an emotion within me, one that skipped past anger and went straight to astonishment.

Don’t you think you should be a bit gentler in handling the goods that your master desires? I wanted to joke, but I held it back.

“No! Get your hands off me!” Lutz shouted, continuing his performance.

“Hey! Keep him still!”

The knights held him down.

As thin as Lutz was, what meager resistance he could muster didn’t amount to much of an obstacle. Even so, Nicholas, who was standing next to Lutz and obviously filled with irritation, lifted his hand into the air.

There was a dull thumping sound.

“Argh!” groaned Lutz.

“Stop resisting! It’s futile,” Nicholas barked.

Lutz scrunched up his face in pain, and his white cheek was rapidly turning red.

Even my usually cool temper began to heat, and I was only watching. Although this was how our responsibilities had been divided, I couldn’t help but gnash my teeth as Lutz took all the beatings.

Hurry. Hurry the hell up! Come on!!!

I prayed in my mind, and just at that moment—

“Don’t move!!!”

—a firm voice rang out.

The cluster of trees shook violently. A unit of hidden soldiers burst from the foliage all at once, sending a rumble through the ground that shattered the pre-dawn tranquility.

“Wh-What’s happening?!”

Unrest spread throughout the ranks of the Skellutian knights.

A new group of soldiers with swords and spears had surrounded the entire area. They made for a superb sight, brandishing their large shields menacingly. Casting my eyes up, I saw soldiers perched on thick branches, with arrows notched in their bows, fixing their aim on the Skellutian knights below.

Color drained from the faces of our captors when they saw the position of the ambushers. Not a single rat could’ve slipped through the opposing formation.

One man marched forward from the group of ambushing soldiers.

He had a stern countenance and a muscular build, and must’ve been only a little older than thirty. His dark-gray plate armor exuded an imposing aura, and the sight of him there, with his cape billowing behind him, overflowed with majesty. He was probably the commander of the ambush.

He sucked in a bellyful of air, then raised his voice: “This land is in our kingdom! I won’t allow you to enter without permission!”

His awe-inspiring voice resounded across the area. Behind him was a red flag, emblazoned with the emblem of an eagle with its wings spread wide; the cloth flapped behind the commander as though responding to his voice.

“This can’t be! Why are there soldiers from Vint here?” Nicholas groaned from beside Lutz. His face was pale.

That was right, after all. The insignia on the flag of the ambushing soldiers was the mark of the Kingdom of Vint, and not Nevel’s emblem. More than that, these men wore the armor of the elite soldiers in the capital’s knightly order, rather than the uniform of Vint’s border guards.

The Skellutian knights stood dumbfounded, unable to react to this impossible situation.

“Sir Fritz.”

The high-pitched voice of a prepubescent boy, which was the last thing anyone would’ve expected to hear in this place, reached my ears.

The man who’d been called Fritz—Vint’s commander, it seemed—turned back to the boy. This young man stood among a throng of swordsmen that seemed to protect him.

“Your Highness, I must apologize for involving you in a situation like this,” said Fritz.

“Please,” responded the boy, “I’m the one who forced you to allow my participation in this march.”

The boy had been addressed as a prince, and he possessed the good looks of an angel from a religious fresco. His golden hair looked as if it had been woven from sunlight, and his large eyes were framed by long eyelashes.

His features were almost indistinguishable from Princess Rosemary’s, but he somehow left a completely different impression. I sensed something like an unfathomable fearsomeness from his eyes, which glimmered blue with the color of the ocean depths.

“You mustn’t let these foreign scoundrels trample on your country’s territory. Please, don’t mind me. Carry out your duties,” said the young boy, before gesturing to Lutz and me. “Those two, however, appear to be restrained. Please take custody of them.”

The boy announced all of this with a voice far more composed than his young age would suggest.

He was Johan von Velfalt, the princess’s younger brother, and the second prince of the Kingdom of Nevel, who’d left to study in Vint.

“This...can’t be! This is absurd!” Nicholas descended into sudden panic at the arrival of Prince Johan, someone who, by all counts, shouldn’t have been there.

A line of sweat ran down his cheek and his eyes widened in astonishment. The hand he’d placed on his sword’s hilt was quivering. He staggered backwards, gait unsteady, and then his foot snagged on a tree root and he tripped.

All of our gazes fell on Nicholas as he stumbled, and Prince Johan narrowed his eyes in suspicion. He raised his fingers to his chin and sank into silence for a few seconds, as if trying to remember something.

Then he nodded a few times and spoke up.

“Ah, Nicholas,” said the prince.

Nicholas froze.

“Your Highness, you know this man?” Vint’s commander asked.

“He’s Nicholas von Buro, a knight in Nevel’s royal guard,” answered Prince Johan. “Nicholas, what are you doing there?”

Caught in Johan’s blue eyes, which seemed able to peer through all lies, Nicholas gulped. It looked like he was frantically trying to think of an excuse, but hadn’t he realized?

However much he struggled, the game was already over.

Vint’s capital knights had held military exercises at this exact time, and the second prince of Nevel had joined them on their march. They’d purposely chosen this route from among the many others, and had reached the handover point before the Skellutian detachment’s arrival. This couldn’t have all been a miraculous coincidence.

Everything had proceeded according to a pre-arranged plan.

Unbeknownst to Nicholas, he’d played his scripted role, doing nothing more than dancing to the tune of the princes—both the younger one here, and the older, who was currently back at the palace protecting the princess.

“Those two boys fit the descriptions of the sorcerers in my brother’s letters.”

Prince Johan’s remark was met with silence.

“Nicholas, why are they bound? Why are you traveling with rebels?” The prince commanded with all the power of his station, “Answer me, Nicholas von Buro!”

As the prince pressed him further, Nicholas’s shoulders flinched. He hung his head, and despair flooded his gaze. Nicholas bit his bottom lip, trembling like a scolded child.

“...up,” Nicholas murmured, in a voice too soft for anyone to truly make out the words.

“Has the heir to an honorable family of counts really sunk to the level of a traitor?” the prince muttered contemptuously.

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!!!” Nicholas finally screamed. “You don’t know me! You talk pretty big for a fragile, pampered little brat who has spent his whole life closely guarded, don’t you?!”

Nicholas was ranting hysterically. The ability to make rational decisions appeared to have deserted him by this stage in the conversation. He’d just thrown away any chance of wriggling out of this; his honed silver tongue had done him no favors.

He was losing his grip on his identity as a member of the royal guard, even as a citizen of Nevel. The end result of his tantrum was catastrophic—he’d begun to lavish insults on a prince from his own kingdom.

Despite this, Nicholas continued shouting. “You royals! Kids with pretty faces, but what else? Fuck-all, that’s what! Every last one of you treats me like a fool!”

“How dare you! That’s no way to speak to His Highness!”

It wasn’t Prince Johan, but Vint’s commander who flew into a rage at Nicholas’s barrage of curses. Fritz grasped the hilt of his blade, but the prince cautioned him.

“Don’t,” stated Prince Johan.

“But, Your Highness.”

“It’s fine, Sir Fritz. There’s nothing for you to gain by dirtying your hands over the ravings of this lowlife,” explained the prince.

“Wha...?!” Being referred to as a lowlife caused Nicholas to completely lose his tongue.

That must’ve stung. Nicholas took pride in the fact that the blood of a comital lineage ran through his veins, even while he shunned his family. And here he was, being looked down upon from towering royal heights, ridiculed as a lowlife who wasn’t even worthy enough to cut down.

“I’ll take that man back to Nevel and submit him to the judgment of our law. Fortunately, we have no shortage of charges.” Prince Johan pointed a sharp gaze at the traitor.

“Nicholas.” Prince Johan addressed him curtly.

“Wh-What?!”

“You accused me of ignorance a moment ago, so I’m sure that you, of all people, are well aware of what it means to direct verbal abuse towards me, the second in the line of succession for the throne of the Kingdom of Nevel.”

An ice-cold sneer emerged on Prince Johan’s angelic, adorable features. The sight of him passing judgment without raising his voice, or even looking angry, packed a harder punch than should be possible for such a young boy.

Nicholas was outclassed and overawed. A quiet, strangled scream parted from his lips.

“Have it your way,” remarked the prince. “Your destination won’t be a fancy mansion—it’ll be a cell. But not to worry, you won’t reside there for too many days, I expect. What was it that you called us? ‘Kids with pretty faces and fuck-all else’? Well put! But you’ll pay with your life for mocking my sister.”

His tone made me shudder. The words had been directed at Nicholas, not me, but I broke out in goosebumps all the same.

How could anyone look at this prince and think that he was a fragile, pampered brat with a lovely face and nothing else? Do your eyes actually work? I wanted to shout at Nicholas.

Despite Nicholas’s prior appraisal, all that the little prince had to do was take one step forward. Nicholas let out a pathetic shriek of terror.

“No! Stop! Stay back!”

Nicholas retreated, but the moment he spotted Lutz nearby, he tugged the boy towards himself in a violent motion. He took firm hold of Lutz, and his trembling hands unsheathed his sword and pressed it against the nape of Lutz’s neck.

“You bastard!” Vint’s commander cursed.

“D-Don’t move!” Nicholas barked, huffing and puffing. “Not if you want this brat in one piece!” He growled and glared at everyone like an angry dog.

On cue, the Skellutian knights broke free from their dazed, statue-like states and proceeded to move, spurred on by Nicholas’s actions.

“You too, get over here!” Following Nicholas’s lead, a Skellutian knight grabbed my arm. He placed his blade crudely against my neck, slicing minutely through the thin layer of skin in the process. A single trickle of blood flowed out of the cut.

That hurts, asshole!

I was dragged before Prince Johan like a human shield.

“Your Highness.” The commander of Vint’s soldiers looked to Prince Johan at his side and called out for orders.

“Sir Fritz, I beg you not to take action.” The prince replied briefly, his tone composed. His large eyes were free of panic or pity. If anything, they expressed quite an aggressive stance.

His order for Fritz to halt was most likely a show of strength—it wasn’t necessarily intended to ensure mine and Lutz’s safety, but instead, to signal that there was no need for Vint’s soldiers to take part in bloodshed at all.

He’s saying that Nevel can clean up its own mess.

The young and cute figure of the prince signaled his order with a simple shift of the muscles in his jaw.

Do it. I felt I could see that command in his eyes.

This prince is frightening. Is he really related to the princess?

“Come no closer! Not if you value their lives!”

The Skellutian knights rattled off the sort of line a stereotypical villain would use, all the while failing to notice the unwavering calmness in the prince.

I almost sighed from a sense of disappointment, but I hardened my face to fit in with the atmosphere of the situation. My partner, on the other hand, had no intentions of fitting in.

“So loud... Do you mind not shouting right by my ear?” Lutz grumbled with a lackadaisical attitude. He frowned, and covered his ears.

I couldn’t help but laugh at how naturally he’d appeared to remove the ropes that were supposed to be restraining him.

Nicholas’s eyes shot open wide in sheer disbelief. “What?!”

“Just asking, but are you an idiot?” questioned Lutz. “I don’t think you could’ve found two people more unsuited to being hostages than us.” Lutz looked down and shrugged his shoulders, as though tired of Nicholas, then let out an exaggerated sigh.

Lutz blinked slowly. When his eyes reopened, their color was changed—no longer the usual indigo, his eyes had shifted to a silver-gray.

There was a plinking sound, and suddenly, Nicholas’s sword flew from his hands. The blade followed a circular arc through the air before planting itself deeply into the ground, just a little distance away from us.

“Wha—?!” sputtered Nicholas.

Lutz’s fingers scythed through empty space, and traces of cold mist hung in the air following his gestures. Flakes of ice descended all around, sparkling in the light of the rising sun.

“What...What did you do?!” Nicholas asked in utter disarray, his voice hoarse.

“If you didn’t already catch what I did, then there’s truly no hope for you,” Lutz spat back. He directed a look of abject pity at Nicholas, and the ends of his faint lips twisted upwards.

The blatant provocation plucked perfectly at Nicholas’s nerves, and he unleashed an aggravated cry of anger.

“You bastard!”

With sparks flashing in his eyes, Nicholas grabbed the dagger that hung from his belt, and hurled its sheath away. He swung the blade down diagonally from the left, and it found its mark in Lutz’s slender body.

Or so it seemed.

At the last second, Lutz had caught the blade in his palm. He wasn’t even wearing gloves, but the sharp blade he gripped hadn’t cut into his skin.

Nicholas looked astounded, and was unable to comprehend what was happening.

Lutz smirked at him, then summoned all of his strength and ripped the dagger out from where it had bitten into his palm. After he’d hurled the dagger into the distance, he shook his fist.

The ice that had covered Lutz’s hand shattered with a noise reminiscent of trampling on frozen grass. The shards crumbled down to the ground.

“Surprisingly, my power works just as well for defense as it does for offense,” Lutz muttered. He repeatedly opened and closed his hand, like he was checking on his sense of touch.

“Magic?!” asked Nicholas, bewildered. “That’s impossible!”

The Skellutian soldiers, along with their commander dressed all in black, suddenly thrust their swords towards Lutz in unison.

Apparently, one glimpse of Lutz’s bizarre power had struck terror into the hearts of these seasoned veterans who’d weathered countless conflicts. Fear robbed them of their better judgment, and their composure was evidently broken.

“This early-morning mountain spot is great. I’ve got more water than I could ask for. I get to test out all sorts of tactics with a single type of attack.” Lutz whispered this in a sing-song tone, then raised his hands aloft.

Something like a thick mist emerged from the ground and spread out in a circle, steadily enveloping the men’s feet.

This mysterious substance inflamed the Skellutians’ fear. Several of those surrounding Lutz let out deranged screams and slashed at him from all directions. But both Lutz and Prince Johan, who was watching patiently, just stood still and composed.

Neither showed the slightest hint of alarm.

“How do you like this?!” Lutz stamped his foot heavily on the ground, and the attacking men’s legs froze solid in an instant.

With their movement blocked, the men collapsed in place. The soldiers from Skelluts writhed around, their hefty armor interfering with all attempts to free themselves.

Despite the successful execution of his magic, Lutz brought his hand to his chin and grumbled, dissatisfied.

“Hmm, the range of effect is limited, and there’s quite a high probability that they could dodge the second burst. There’s a lot of room for improvement.”

I can’t believe this guy! He’s actually experimenting with his magic in a real fight. Who knew his nerves were made of this much steel, I thought. I was exasperated with my friend, but also impressed.

“Okay then, what to try out next?” The enjoyment in Lutz’s voice terrified the collapsed men.

With their feet frozen, they couldn’t even retreat by crawling away, so they pummeled at their frozen legs with their fists, appearing half-crazed.

“How?!” Nicholas asked, his voice practically a scream. “What happened to the magic-restricting devices you’re wearing?!”

Lutz tilted his head. “Oh, this?” He pointed to his slender neck, where he wore a thin choker, which was a dark gray that matched his current eye color. He swiveled his hands around to the back of his neck, and released the clasp with the tips of his fingers.

The choker unfastened without any resistance and fell away, tumbling to the ground with a satisfying tinkling noise.

Despair washed across the faces of the Skellutians as they watched in astonished silence.

“As you can see, it’s a fake.” Lutz showed off his most marvelous grin.

Cries of terror rang out. The men abandoned their pride and fled from Lutz, charging instead in my direction.

Uhh, excuse me? It looks like they’ve all forgotten that I’m here too. No thanks to a certain somebody.

I let out a long sigh as I glanced at Lutz. He was going wild, as though releasing years of pent-up anger.

“Jeez, Lutz, don’t go nuts without inviting me!”

The man restraining me was distracted by Lutz, so I took advantage of his loosened grip on my arm and pulled it free.

I then plunged the heel of my palm into his jaw.

He groaned. His sword dropped with a clanging sound, and I planted the sole of my boot on the blade. I then thrust my elbow at the face of the soldier on my other side.

“Whoa!”

But he dodged right away.

While tutting at myself for letting the man leap back, I summoned all of my strength and tore apart the rope binding me. I blinked slowly, and I knew without looking that my eyes had turned golden.

I gathered heat in my hands.

The rope suddenly ignited, and flames rose up with an audible woosh.

My captor whimpered, voice strained, as he turned his eyes to look at the fire burning right in front of him.

I sent him one cold glance, then piled my now-free hands on top of each other and amassed heat.

I kneaded the nearby air together, and allowed the lit flame to spread, just moments before the remnants of rope finished burning and fell away as ash. The pale fire I’d conjured illuminated the area with its dazzling glow. The blazes devoured a good chunk of my magical energy, and the brightness increased dramatically.

The licks of fire then coiled around my right arm like a snake.

I breathed a sigh of relief at my accomplishment, and I felt like I heard Lutz laugh from the other side of the men who divided us.

Screw you, Lutz. A genius like you could never understand what it feels like to be normal.

You might be able to wield your magic like it’s nothing, but I can’t! Without a conjuring medium, I can’t seem to get the image right in my head. What’s so wrong with being relieved that my spell worked? I snarled in my mind.

Unaware of my internal conflict, our captors were on the verge of fainting from the terror of being stuck between two sorcerers.

“Now this one too?!” a Skellutian knight shouted, dumbfounded.

“Stop!” implored our captors. “Leave us be!”

A bitter smile broke out across my face. You’re the ones that kidnapped us. Maybe you should’ve left us be.

There’s no hope for the mad king or his underlings if they trifled with us without comprehending what makes sorcerers so special.

“We should be the ones telling you to leave us be,” Lutz retorted, furrowing his brow and displaying his scorn for all to see.

He hadn’t raised his voice, but even so, an unconcealable anger had seeped into his tone and facial expression. “You were meant to capture us! But look at the sorry state you’re in now, sir knights.”

The late-middle-aged commander ground his teeth, pride wounded after hearing the scornful laugh of a child too young to even be his own son.

“You mock us?!” Fear had dulled the commander’s eyes before, but now flames of indignation swelled inside them. He glared at Lutz with his blazing stare and placed a hand on his sword’s hilt. He yanked the huge sword from its sheath and brandished it with both hands, then leapt forward.

“You’re getting carried away, boy!” the commander howled.

The man careened his sword down, aiming for Lutz’s head, but my partner evaded the attack by a hair’s breadth.

“Whoa?! Almost!” Lutz said.

The swing sent shock waves rippling through the air and gouged a massive rift in the ground. The movement itself hadn’t been all that swift, but the force behind the blow deserved a gasp.

“Ooh, scary!” Lutz’s lighthearted attitude wasn’t deterred, even though one wrong step would’ve earned him a fatal wound.

“That’s what you get for provoking him, dummy,” I chided.

They were ready to fall apart from their fear of our mysterious power. We could’ve saved ourselves all of this bothersome effort.

I found myself grumbling. Lutz shot me a glance with narrowed eyes, as if expressing to me that I just didn’t get it.

“Bullying the weak isn’t my style,” Lutz declared, looking deadly serious. The Skellutian knights bridled at his words.

“Sure, whatever you say,” I replied. Hearing the low growl of the knights, I sighed, feeling something close to resignation.

Anger had bolstered the Skellutian men’s morale. The knights had finally clambered to their feet, and I knew that they wouldn’t go down so easily this time.

“Little kids like you don’t get to toy with us anymore!” yelled the knights in a rage. “We’ll send you straight to hell, you monsters!!!”

Monsters.

That word sent a tremor through Lutz’s shoulders.

Although I was used to having that insult thrown my way, it still forced a reaction from me every time. Lutz was the same. Fortunately, the response was basically like a reflex, and the affront didn’t eat away at our hearts the way it used to.

“Not the most original of insults.”

“Well, we were born monstrous after all.” Both of us laughed, our eyes cold. We were able to laugh. After all, we weren’t so sweet as to squirm underneath the words of nobodies.

Lutz, Teo.

A lovely voice replayed in my mind.

Someone exists who’ll call our names with a smile. Someone who’s waiting for our return.

I don’t have to worry about who I am anymore.

I’m a monster. A monster called Teo.

This power that I can summon to protect those I hold dear is something to rejoice in. I’ll never balk at it again.

“Bring it on, old men,” Lutz said.

“We’ll give you a good taste of the power that your master asked for.”