Episode 595

The envoys who had gathered from nearby cities stood before the shattered Agiar Barrier, anxiously awaiting the emperor’s reply. A chill ran down their spines at the thought that their own cities might soon suffer the same fate.

But that fear lasted only briefly. As the wait dragged on, their tension slowly dissolved into boredom.

“Isn’t this taking longer than expected? Even if it’s a matter of great importance, all the key decision-makers of Bariel are gathered inside. There shouldn’t be any unnecessary delays in reaching an agreement.”

“When the sun touches the horizon, we should leave.”

“I agree. Darkness always brings danger.”

“Good luck to you.”

“And to you. May you hold the barrier to the very end.”

As the envoys exchanged brief farewells, a shadow fell over the barrier. Mages had arrived, crossing the sky path to come beyond the wall.

They carried nothing in their hands. One of the envoys shouted loudly upon seeing this.

“We are ready to receive your reply!”

The message was clear: they expected the other side to come forward willingly with their demands.

The mage lowered his altitude and gestured for them to follow.

“Come inside.”

“…Inside?”

“The Minister of Magic will respond personally. Given the deep entanglement with Rutherford, this cannot be conveyed in writing. If you’re afraid, I won’t force you, but isn’t it your duty to understand Bariel’s position?”

Those who wished to go could do so, but without grasping Bariel’s stance, survival in any form would be difficult.

Understanding the implication, the envoys instinctively gripped their reins tighter, exchanging wary glances. The first to step forward was the envoy from Purpato, southeast of Agiar.

“Ahem.”

One by one, the envoys slowly crossed the broken barrier and entered the inner area.

At first, they found the place quieter and more peaceful than expected. But soon, their eyes fell upon several severed heads displayed in the distance.

“…Those are—”

“Regrettable.”

“What does this mean?”

The mage flew slowly toward them and explained.

“It means it’s too late. The Minister will explain the details personally. For now, observe the lives of the Agiar residents carefully. Bariel treats them humanely.”

The heads hanging there were gruesome. Some died with eyes wide open, others with faces frozen in screams, and some passed quietly. Blood dripped freshly from the severed necks—these were recent.

“This way.”

‘They look like they mean business. They’ve taken full control.’

The guide’s demeanor suggested as if this place had always belonged to Bariel.

The envoys bit their lower lips and entered cautiously. Bariel’s military condition was valuable intelligence to relay back to their allies.

‘Surprisingly, not many are wounded.’

‘Their complexions look good. They must have ample food.’

“Ah! More mages. There’s quite a number of them.”

Knock, knock.

“Minister Ian, the envoys have arrived.”

“Bring them in.”

From the moment they stepped inside, the envoys’ expectations were repeatedly challenged. But nothing was as startling as the figure who greeted them—a boy no older than sixteen.

He nodded toward the front and allowed them to sit.

“You each represent Rezende, Vieira, Jar, and Purpato, correct?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“I’ve confirmed what you seek. But what can I say? It’s too late now.”

“Too late…?”

“Rutherford and his remnants have been eliminated. If you ask the Agiar residents, you’ll learn that this very hour was set for the execution. You were the ones who delayed the reply.”

Negotiations had failed. Bariel would not be able to fulfill their proposal. Whether intentional or not, the outcome was clear.

The envoys’ faces darkened, and Ian snapped his fingers.

“Do you know what Rutherford looks like?”

“No, we don’t.”

Ian frowned and signaled. A mage brought a silver box and stood beside him.

“No one? Well then, who will confirm the body?”

“We will report the current situation to our lord first.”

“Good. Since Rutherford is dead, Bariel wishes to reconcile with you by other means. And one more thing—”

With a smooth motion, Ian poured each of them a glass of water and added,

“Bariel will soon leave Agiar and head south. The destination is the capital of Burgos, Kalamath. The journey is long, and it would be troublesome if minor matters like executions delay us.”

It was a warning not to interfere rashly, as they would soon meet the royalists directly. It was also advice to face the formidable Bariel head-on before scheming to switch sides. If they failed to understand this, the severed heads hanging at a distance might soon appear in their own cities.

Among the envoys, reactions split sharply. Some masked their embarrassment in silence, gauging the atmosphere, while others pressed for more information.

“Is Rutherford really dead?”

“I don’t believe it. Show us.”

Ian turned his head and gave a signal. The mage opened the box.

Inside was a mutilated head, so damaged it was hard to recognize. The envoys covered their mouths with their sleeves, gagging, while Ian frowned in disgust.

“Having shown you the body, you should say no more. Understood?”

Ian’s blunt words felt like a slap to some envoys. Had they not seen it, they might have questioned it later. Now, having seen the head of an unknown man, Bariel had secured their justification.

This won’t do. Staying here any longer would only force us to give up more.

“I’ll take my leave first.”

“Purpato?”

“Yes. Since we’re the farthest, if we don’t leave now, we’ll spend the night in the mountains. We can’t afford to neglect such critical news affecting many lives.”

“Do as you wish.” Ian gestured indifferently.

“I hope Bariel doesn’t linger in Purpato.”

“…Excuse me.”

The envoy bowed politely and hurried out. The others, realizing the urgency, quickly followed.

After everyone left, the mages who had been staring at the head slammed the box shut and looked toward the door.

“They don’t seem likely to leave quietly. Should we reduce their numbers in advance?”

“Hey, close that lid properly. The stench is awful.”

“Evi! Clean that up quickly. Ian’s eyes will get hurt.”

“Ian, should we let them go like this? Some seemed not to understand. Maybe we should send a warning letter with them.”

Ian slowly examined the map of Burgos and pointed to Purpato. Then he checked the shortest route from Agiar to that city.

“No need to visit other cities. As the saying goes, ‘seeing one is knowing ten.’ Purpato likely plays a central role nearby. The envoy seems capable and composed, so we can expect their strength. If Purpato passes safely, it won’t be long to the capital, Kalamath.”

“Even if we reach Kalamath and seize the palace, will the royalists surrender so easily?”

“Exactly. Judging by their scheming, they seem ready to unify their forces regardless of Bariel.”

“Shouldn’t we secure all cities firmly before advancing? Just taking Agiar and Purpato feels risky.”

“Why risky?”

“Because if they attack from both above and below simultaneously, it’ll be tough.”

Why ask the obvious? That’s why the higher-ups decided in the meeting to secure Agiar and its surroundings first.

“…There are allies beneath the royalists.”

“Excuse me?”

The royalists were stationed south of Burgos.

But Bariel has forces beneath them? What does that mean? The mages exchanged puzzled looks, but no one gave a clear answer.

Ian stood up from the sofa, as if to reassure them.

“The body was disgraced for Bariel’s sake. See to it properly and give it a decent burial.”

“Y-yes, of course.”

“Where are you going?”

Since hearing that Filia had disappeared, everyone worried about Ian’s every move. He shook his head, understanding their concern, as if to say there was no need to worry.

“To the underground prison.”

Creak.

Thud.

After Ian left, the mages stood silently before collapsing onto the sofa, murmuring.

“Ian doesn’t look well.”

“Yeah. His eyes are different—there’s something in them.”

“By the way, have we ever sent people toward the royalists? I don’t understand what he meant earlier by ‘beneath the royalists.’ Does he mean actual allies south of them, or spies within their ranks?”

“Hmm. Has anyone gone from Bariel to Burgos?”

“From Bariel to Burgos? Ah! Ah!”

One mage jumped up, and others gathered around. He pointed to the head in the box and made a suggestion.

“If you tell me, take me off that job.”

“Damn. So this guy’s not a mage, he’s a merchant.”

“Yeah. Definitely a merchant.”

“Alright then, just say it. Ian, what do you mean?”

“I said merchant. Someone who went from Bariel to Burgos. Especially since he often dealt with the royalists, it’s definitely possible.”

The mages blinked, then one of them muttered under their breath.

“…Lady Kyla?”

---

Ian descended to the deepest part of the underground prison.

A cold, damp, and foul-smelling place, heavy with the stench of brine. The floor was soaked in blood, but it was too dark to make out the details.

“Ugh, damn it! I left the Luron stone behind!”

“Boss, I told you, you don’t need to use the Luron stone. Since when did you start putting that in?”

“It works way better with it, you idiot. Even dumbasses should know when to shut up. Go get the Luron stone!”

“Stubbornness should be outlawed. How are we supposed to get that here? Why don’t you go to Bariel yourself?”

“Got a problem with that?”

As Akorella and his men bickered loudly, Ian stepped closer. They’d set up a makeshift lab with a folding table, but the materials were so poor it looked crude.

“Ian, do you have the Luron stone?”

“Are you serious? Stop asking ridiculous questions, boss. And like I said, you don’t need the Luron stone to make the freezing potion. Honestly.”

The freezing potion.

A concoction that halts the body’s functions while still alive. It had belonged to the previous emperor, and this was actually Akorella’s first time trying to make it, which caused some disagreement.

Before this, it had only been used under secret orders from the emperor to Wesley, the former Minister of Magic, so it wasn’t Akorella’s area of expertise.

“I’ve made antidotes before! Just listen to me!”

“You’ve never made a freezing potion!”

“Ugh, fine, let’s just try it then.”

“Bring it on. I’d rather take a beating and get it over with.”

Ignoring the commotion, Ian peered deeper into the prison. There, unconscious, lay Rutherford, still bound hand and foot.