Antidote Chapter 14.2 - Mannerheim

Selam was the most talkative of all the capital’s mages Ismion knew, a conduit for countless rumors, and the most meddlesome in the capital.

“What in the world happened? There were so many people looking for you in the capital. Naturally, naturally, for someone of your caliber… a first-rank mage disappearing… do you know how much uproar it caused in Karagul?”

“When I left the capital, I gave up my seat at Karagul’s council.”

Ismion spoke as if it were nothing, but he couldn’t stop his heart from stirring inside.

“They even said you suffered the same fate as Archmage Barie.”

“Not entirely wrong.”

There was no need to bring up the story of the archmage who, eighty years ago, set off for the Black Continent and vanished forever. Countless capital mages had ventured boldly into the unknown, only to fail.

Of course, Ismion hadn’t failed.

“I don’t want to kill you, Selam.”

“What?! You were thinking of killing me?!”

Selam exclaimed, lowering his voice as much as he could. Ismion tried to compose his expression.

“If necessary…”

“What’s going on, I mean? I heard you talking to Ose earlier. What’s your relationship with Ose…”

At that moment, Selam’s gaze fell on Ismion’s hand. Specifically, on the finger with a copper ring. A copper ring engraved with two snakes, their tails entwined and mouths open. Selam wasn’t so foolish as to not know what it was.

The crest ring of a Karlac mage.

As Selam’s eyes widened and his mouth opened as if to scream, Ismion cast a silencing spell with the swiftest reflexes of his life.

Facing Selam, who was silently shrieking with his mouth agape, Ismion whispered with a grim expression.

“We have some history, don’t we? Back in Karagul… though I doubt there’s a mage in the capital you don’t have history with. Unless they’re a court mage, that is.”

Selam’s face twisted bizarrely at those words.

“If you keep quiet, I’ll release you.”

Selam nodded faintly, his eyes practically bulging.

In any case, Ismion didn’t want to do anything harsh to Selam. Strictly speaking, Selam was his junior, and even if he weren’t, he wasn’t someone Ismion could hate.

Ismion flicked his finger lightly to lift the silencing spell. Selam gasped, clutching his throat with both hands. His gaze darted between Ismion’s face and the finger with the Karlac mage crest ring.

“What… what in the world.”

It took a while for Selam to squeeze out a voice.

“Why are you posing as a Karlac mage?”

“It’s not posing.”

In that moment, Ismion felt strangely calm.

When had this ring become familiar? When had the crest of two copper snakes or a bow become dearer than the capital’s? When had he stopped getting angry and arguing when Slan teased him to think about the ring on his finger?

“I’ll say it again, I don’t owe you an explanation. I didn’t back then, and I certainly don’t now. You’re the one who needs to explain, Selam. What were you talking about with Ose? Did he offer to smuggle Karlac’s magic?”

He’d hoped speaking authoritatively might work…

But Selam didn’t fall for it.

“The fortress’s barriers… the marquises said they felt something off. If that’s your doing…”

He trailed off.

Ismion sighed, covering his eyes with his palm. His head throbbed.

Selam’s implication was obvious.

Ismion himself was the traitor who’d stolen the capital’s magic.

Few options remained for Ismion. Silence Selam permanently or…

“The Right Court Mage is here. If you confess, I’ll help you, Ismion. You probably can’t reclaim your former rank, but we could at least lighten the punishment…”

“Are you insane?”

“But it’s the only way!”

“You’re not ignorant of what the capital does to traitors, and you’re talking nonsense.”

“You, of all people, should know that! Why did you do this?! What circumstances led you to commit such treason?”

Selam lamented, pounding his chest.

“There’s only one way, Ismion. The Right Court Mage isn’t a bad person. He’s open to magical exchange, and I know you’re not someone who’d betray the capital. The kangaroo courts in Karlac, there must be a reason. If we plead together…”

“Ha. He may not be a bad person. But Selam, you’ve rarely had the chance to enter the golden citadel, so you haven’t seen it. I have. The one seated to the right of our throne,”

Ismion, in his excitement, didn’t even realize he’d said “our” throne, as if he were still a capital mage.

“I’ve seen how they judge those who displease them. Have you seen the bodies hung upside down on the golden citadel’s outer walls? Of course not! You don’t know. He may be a great mage, but he’s no merciful ruler! Do you think he’d listen to my reasons? He’d tear me apart on the spot!”

That’s when it happened.

From the direction of a distant lamp, soft footsteps—tap, tap—approached. They were already close. Both Ismion and Selam, being mages, hadn’t noticed.

“Selam? Selam!”

A somewhat irritable voice followed the footsteps.

“I heard all that shouting, so don’t even think about running. You were supposed to take charge of this banquet in the first place.”

A shadow swayed at the corridor’s corner. It was heading straight for the secluded spot where Ismion and Selam stood.

“I don’t know what pointless thing you’re doing hiding here… unless you’re colluding with a Karlacian, I don’t care. Just get back to the banquet and do your duty. This foolish nonsense. Ha! It’s not a cooking contest, and the idea of showing off capital cuisine is hardly mage-like…”

Grumbling soliloquy mixed with annoyed reprimands for Selam. Ismion remembered that voice. How could he forget? The voice of the capital’s greatest mage, whom he’d revered, feared, and respected for nearly half his life.

“Anyway, Duke of Karlac’s gone back, and I’ve done my part, so Selam, you finish up.”

When the shadow finally stood before them with the towering presence of a monolith, a playful giggle echoed from the opposite direction.

“Yes, Ismion went this way. He said he was taking a walk. It’s dark, Duke of Karlac. I’ll go find him.”

“No, it’s fine. I overate, so a short walk will do. By the way, I stole some food from the banquet for our poor mage. Before he gets homesick, I want him to taste some hometown flavors. My cook’s from the south, you know, the one Jiyod brought. I thought I knew capital cuisine, but it’s totally different!”

Ismion knew this voice too…

The archduke who’d killed him, saved him, and shown him a golden future he couldn’t have imagined, granting him a second life.

So Ismion wanted to ask.

Who could have dared imagine,

in this secluded corridor,

that the archduke of eastern Karlac and the Right Court Mage of the magical kingdom would cross paths?

As he closed his eyes in despair, voices called his name simultaneously.

“Ismion?”

“Ismion, you say?”

He wished it weren’t his name, but of course, that didn’t happen.

And in that moment, Ismion did what he could.

He hid behind Slan’s cloak.

*

“Hahaha. You should’ve seen it, Sir Jiyod. Oh, sorry, I’m not teasing, Ismion.”

Slan wiped a tear from the corner of his eye and turned to Ismion.

Ismion sat rigidly on a narrow, deep couch, arms crossed defensively. His brow was furrowed as if carved for millennia, his eyebrows arched skyward. His mouth was tightly shut, his gaze somber. The mage’s face seemed to bear all the world’s anguish and sorrow.

Seeing it, Slan burst into laughter again.

“The court mage must be pretty terrifying, huh?”

Ismion, aware Slan was tipsy, didn’t get angry. He just twitched the corner of his mouth briefly, without a word or movement.

All he wanted was to sink into the floor or vanish forever. Of course, that wish was far from being granted.

Slan caught his breath after his bout of laughter. His pale hand fumbled on the marble table. Before his fingers reached a glass, Jiyod gently placed his palm over Slan’s hand and pushed the glass out of reach with the other.

“What’s the point of showing me that scene? It was pretty funny, though. I’m worried the court mage might’ve misunderstood. Should I mediate? Our mage hiding behind Duke of Karlac’s cloak wasn’t out of fear. They mustn’t underestimate Karlac mages’ danger, hahaha.”

“Don’t tease Ismion too much.”

Slan reached for the distant glass, but Jiyod naturally wrapped an arm around his shoulder, turning him toward the couch. In the end, Slan’s hand held a cool lemon tea with ice.

Too drunk to distinguish liquor from tea, Slan sipped it without resistance.

“Anyway…”

Slan spoke again, his voice clearer.

Though his eyes still crinkled with lingering amusement.

“Don’t worry, Ismion. I won’t hand over the poor mage hiding behind my cloak to the capital with my own hands.”

He gulped down half the lemon tea in one go, set the cup on the couch’s armrest, and just before it slid off, Jiyod snatched it and placed it on an ivory side table.

“We need to add a new agenda to the talks…”

Slan furrowed his brow as if in deep thought. After a minute, he asked Ismion innocently.

“Ismion, how much do you think you’re worth?”

“Haa…”

The mage let out a long sigh at the guileless question. His shoulders grew heavier, his expression darker.

Unfazed, Slan held up a few fingers.

“I think about this much? What do you say?”

Jiyod, not Ismion, responded.

Jiyod’s lips curled slyly. With a soft smile, he quipped.

“Really, is that mage’s neck worth that much? Why not just chop off his head and send it? Costs nothing. The capital might prefer that.”

He tilted his head slightly, smiling.

“For his blabbering tongue, maybe toss in a silver coin in his mouth. How’s that? Sounds like the cheapest option.”

“Haha, enough joking.”

Slan laughed it off.

But Ismion didn’t laugh, and this time, neither did Jiyod.

Slan reached out, fumbling in the air. Jiyod placed the lemon tea cup back in his hand, taking it again after a few sips.

“Hmm… anyway, I plan to get along with the capital. The talks’ vibe wasn’t bad, and surprisingly, the court mage was reasonable. Plus, Ismion misses his hometown, right? As a ruler, I can’t ignore that.”

Ismion sighed repeatedly, rubbing his brow. His complexion was that of a corpse awake for four nights.

“Calling a high price first to avoid pointless haggling. We can’t afford a pride contest, right?”

Slan grinned brightly.

“It’s fine, Ismion. That amount is nothing compared to you. Think of it as a dowry. I’ve been wanting a marriage alliance with the capital anyway… how about getting married this time?”

“Brilliant idea. I’ll play matchmaker. There are some pirates—no, navy men—in Ipsen looking for husbands. I think sea life might suit that mage surprisingly well.”

Ismion said nothing.

*

The next morning, Slan was in good spirits.

In return for yesterday’s capital-style banquet, he decided to host a modest luncheon today. Only the Right Court Mage and the third-rank marquis were invited, and from Karlac, only Slan and Jiyod would attend.

It was a rare leisurely morning since arriving in Mannerheim.

The weather was splendid.

Around this time, eastern Karlac would be hit by sandstorms, but here, close to the great canyon, the terrain differed, and it was clear. Instead of sandstorms, crisp, cool breezes from snow-capped highlands pleasantly enveloped the fortress.

Slan wanted to bathe with the windows open to the breeze but postponed it for security until returning to Karlac. Instead, he lingered in bed, and Jiyod, delighted, tended to him.

“Should’ve held the luncheon outdoors.”

“No way.”

Jiyod, filing Slan’s toenails with a silver file, replied with a smile.

Karlac’s combat magic was underdeveloped, so questions remained about how far capital mages could go in close combat. Knights were considered superior in close quarters, but magic was undeniably more effective in open, flat terrain with little cover.

Knowing this, Slan only shrugged.

“Stop filing. There’s nothing left to file.”

He quickly pulled his foot from Jiyod’s hand. Jiyod grabbed his ankle again. After a brief tussle, they got out of bed, both with disheveled hair.

It was time to prepare.

The luncheon promised to be pleasant, so there was no need to show up late. Slan genuinely believed that. Maybe this was a chance to forge a real alliance with the capital?

But an hour later, when Slan arrived at the luncheon venue with a lively expression, he immediately and instinctively knew this would be the opposite of pleasant.

The capital’s mages had arrived first.

Unlike the formal setting before, the luncheon was cozier, more intimate, more private, reflecting the friendly, positive negotiations thus far. The oval ivory marble table was adorned with fruit and flowers, and the chairs were large and soft, almost like single-person couches, perfect for lounging. Windows to the balcony were open, with large birdcages hanging outside, filled with the cheerful chirping of canaries and whistling doves.

But now, the capital mages sitting in this picturesque scene were utterly detached from its beauty or tranquility, their faces cold and stern.

Slan thought absently.

‘Ismion’s definitely from the capital.’

They didn’t rise as Slan entered.

Only the court mage glanced up briefly, while the third-rank marquis sat like a statue, expression rigid, gaze lowered.

In contrast, a smile spread across Slan’s face. He walked to his seat calmly, neither slowing nor hastening.

“You’re here early.”

As he sat, Jiyod followed.

Jiyod said nothing, but his faint smile remained.

The capital mages, however, didn’t smile.

As Slan sat, servers brought a light aperitif—chilled Lemberg orange sparkling wine.

Twirling a glass crafted from intricate stained glass, Slan pondered when and how to broach the topic when the court mage spoke coldly.

“It seems we have another issue to discuss.”

Slan looked up at him.

The Right Court Mage of the capital. Ruler of the mage kingdom, chosen not by blood but by magical prowess.

When Slan first heard of the Left and Right Court Mages, he hadn’t imagined this one would be so young. He looked even younger than Slan, more like a petulant child than the greatest mage.

But Slan had met him on the Black Continent. He’d seen what he could do.

He could reshape the earth into cliffs and mountains, summon torrential rain and lightning, manipulate gravity at will. A mage with such power was an army unto himself.

His presence at these talks was unexpected for Slan. As was his reasonably earnest discussion of exchange.

Slan had reevaluated him multiple times. Now was another.

“The mage from our capital that you’re harboring.”

“Hmm…”

Slan set down the glass he’d been holding.

The glasses before the mages remained untouched.

Slan was still smiling.

“All the capital mages here are yours. I only have Karlac mages.”

A cold sneer flickered in the court mage’s eyes.

“Fine. Let’s rephrase. A traitor to the capital. Does that suit you better?”

His voice quickened, his gaze grew colder.

“You’ve heard of the capital’s golden citadel and its protective barriers, but it seems you haven’t heard how we deal with traitors?”

A brief silence fell.

Slan tilted his head slightly, feigning deep thought. A spark gleamed in his blue eyes, a relaxed smile on his lips.

He didn’t want war. Not now, at least…

When the court mage had shown courtesy first and come to Mannerheim, Slan had decided to yield when the time came. That time was now.

“You’ve misunderstood. That’s not what I meant.”

He spoke in a softer tone.

“I’m not denying Ismion’s origins. Of course, the fact that Ismion now wears a Karlac mage crest ring is irreversible.”

“Wizard of Karlac! Ha!”

At that moment, the court wizard’s voice rose sharply. His colorless eyes flashed like lightning, and an unmistakable sneer curled at the corners of his mouth.

“Did you know that Ismion was one of the seated wizards of Kallagul? Did he ever explain to you what that means, Lord Karlac? And how the punishments for such wizards differ from others when they betray?”

Of course, Ismion had never mentioned it. He rarely spoke about the life he had led in the capital. Well, perhaps he had discussed it with Idana or Anita… But Slan could at least deduce from the court wizard’s reaction that being a “seated wizard of Kallagul” likely meant holding a high-ranking position in the capital. And he recalled how much Ismion had feared the capital’s punishments before coming here.

Slan spoke calmly.

“I believe we can reach a reasonable agreement. Let me say again, I’m not denying his origins. I know how much importance the capital places on that. Our Karlac is willing to pay a fair price for him…”

“A fair price?”

The court wizard’s voice was now razor-sharp, as if it could tear through the air.

Slan wondered which of his words had so irritated the wizard, but he soon found out.

“No one can buy a wizard of the capital with money. No one!”

Slan thought the statement was an idealistic notion far removed from reality, and so he laughed.

“Is that so? Then I suppose I’ll be the first archlord to buy a capital wizard with money.”

The atmosphere shifted in an instant.

The third-rank elector, who had been staring at the floor until now, slowly raised his gaze. Slan didn’t know much about magic, but he felt it was some kind of threat. He wasn’t the only one who thought so. Jiyod, still wearing a smiling expression, subtly shifted his posture to sit at an angle. He placed his right hand on the table, slowly tracing the ivory surface with his fingers. His left hand rested beneath the table, close to the hilt of his sword. The elector’s gaze fixed on him. The intense disgust in the wizard’s eyes at that moment!

After a brief silence, one corner of the court wizard’s mouth twisted into a smirk.

“Oh, really? If Lord Karlac truly wishes to buy our wizard with money… how about Karlac’s chimera as payment?”

For the first time, the smile on Slan’s face faltered.

The court wizard, with a cold sneer, gestured toward Jiyod with his chin.

“There’s a saying in Karlac, isn’t there? A life for a life. The life I want in exchange for our capital wizard is that chimera of Karlac.”

“That’s an excessive jest, court wizard.”

Slan responded in a hardened voice, and the court wizard let out a scornful snort.

“I’m not saying to kill him, Lord Karlac. Just as you wouldn’t kill Ismion. Only…”

He narrowed one eye and stared piercingly at Jiyod. Disgust, intrigue, curiosity. He soon averted his gaze.

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice, even seeing it with my own eyes, that Lord Ipsen wove that chimera with the capital’s forbidden magic?”

The wizard mocked.

“Human experimentation is forbidden in the capital. Naturally, so is taking the capital’s magic outside its borders… So, I’m saying I’ll take back the result of that.”

A slow smile returned to Slan’s face.

He had already conceded once—no, twice. Wasn’t that enough?

“Is that truly what the capital wants?”

If the capital truly desired that in exchange for the life of one wizard, then there was only one answer, wasn’t there?

“War with Karlac?”

“If necessary.”

The wizard replied coldly.

Brushing the armrest of his chair with his sleeve, he rose from his seat. The elector wizard followed him.

“The capital upholds our rules. As we have for the past millennium, so we will for the next. I await your wise decision, Lord Karlac.”

With that, the wizards left without looking back.

The meal hadn’t even been served—only the pre-dinner drinks had been brought out, and the glasses remained untouched.

*

As soon as Slan entered the inner chamber, he flung off his cloak. It was an uncharacteristic outburst for him. Jiyod, following behind, wrapped his arms around Slan’s shoulders.

“Shall we prepare for war?”

“Ha… don’t you start with the bad jokes too.”

Slan replied curtly, but he didn’t push Jiyod’s arms away. Of course, Jiyod wasn’t joking, but he didn’t bother to point that out to Slan.

Leaning his back against Jiyod’s chest, Slan breathed heavily for a moment, still struggling to control his anger. Then, unable to contain it, he abruptly broke free from Jiyod’s embrace and paced rapidly around the room in circles.

“What do you think those bastards really want?”

Stopping abruptly, Slan glared at Jiyod and asked.

Jiyod shrugged.

“Well, the wizard’s head, obviously.”

“Don’t joke around.”

Slan said irritably this time.

“What they really want, I mean. What was it about this meeting that they didn’t like? Any guesses about the negotiation terms? I think they’re trying to challenge me over the silver mines in the Black Continent…”

“Well, if that were the case, the court wizard wouldn’t have bothered showing up here in person.”

Jiyod replied nonchalantly.

“Didn’t you see it in that Ismion guy’s temper? I knew it from the start. Those capital folks are arrogant savages who only understand blood, not rational conversation. Look at it now. I think the only answer that’ll satisfy them is Ismion’s head.”

“That’s absurd.”

Slan snapped back nervously.

“Even if that’s true, that’s not happening.”

Jiyod’s face soured at Slan’s unhesitating response.

“Hmm. I didn’t realize you cared so much for that wizard guy?”

“Ismion is my wizard.”

Instead of responding, Jiyod gave a light smile. Of course, in his mind, he was thinking about secretly killing Ismion someday.

But as if reading his sinister intentions, Slan warned Jiyod.

“Don’t get any useless ideas.”

“Useless ideas?”

Pretending innocence, Jiyod lowered his gaze and approached Slan again. He gently wrapped his arms around Slan’s shoulders and leaned in to kiss his cheek.

“Anyway, don’t worry too much. The solution might be simpler than you think. By tomorrow, those capital wizards might come to their senses… if they even have any sense, that is.”

But at that moment, Slan pushed Jiyod away sharply.

“I told you to stop joking. Those lunatics from the capital are demanding Ismion’s head right now! This is a challenge to me. A challenge to Karlac! Ismion is a Karlac wizard! Whatever he was before, he’s my wizard now!”

Now Jiyod genuinely smiled, thinking he’d really kill that Ismion guy.

“Then let’s do this.”

He suggested in a sweet, coaxing voice.

“I’ll make a very fair proposal. We cut the wizard guy in half and split him evenly.”

He expected Slan to recoil at the mischievous joke, but Slan’s reaction was different.

Frowning deeply with his beautiful brow, Slan asked seriously.

“Then Karlac should get the upper half, right?”

Even Jiyod was momentarily speechless at the response.

“Is that a bit much? Would that lead to a fight with the capital too?”

Slan asked again, his face grave. Jiyod, who had been wearing a dumbfounded expression, finally burst into laughter. A long, hearty laugh—hahahaha—followed, and he slipped his arms under Slan’s knees, lifting him up.

“Whoa!”

Startled, Slan instinctively wrapped his arms around Jiyod’s neck. Taking advantage of the moment, Jiyod pressed his lips against Slan’s.

“What the… mmph…”

The kiss continued. Their lips met, parted, and met again.

Jiyod gave Slan’s cheek one last light, smacking kiss before walking to the sofa. Still holding Slan, he sat down, placing Slan’s legs over his thighs and pulling his upper body close. He slowly stroked Slan’s back.

Slan’s breathing gradually slowed.

After a while, Slan let out a sigh, as if all the tension had drained from him.

“Feeling a bit calmer?”

At Jiyod’s question, Slan nodded, his cheeks slightly flushed.

“You don’t have to do this.”

He grumbled softly, but his arms remained around Jiyod’s neck. Jiyod chuckled low in his throat.

“Anyway… I’ll say what I want to say. You do what you want to do.”

“Ha. If only I could do whatever I wanted.”

“Why not? You’re the master of Karlac.”

“And the wizard who’s more than a little angry with me is the master of the magical kingdom.”

“And he’s currently in Karlac’s territory.”

Slan furrowed his brow at that.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I can act first. Whether it’s Ipsen or Karlac, we go back now and quickly prepare the army. They probably don’t want an all-out war right now either, so it’d likely be next summer. Early spring, if we’re quick. If we advance beyond the Great Canyon first, the battlefield will be their land, not Karlac’s. There’s the issue of supplies, of course, but we could use the unfinished great bridge and the canyon passage to manage for now…”

Then Jiyod lowered his voice, whispering as if sharing a secret.

“Of course, if you want, we could quickly take care of that wizard guy while he’s still in our territory.”

Slan finally smacked Jiyod’s lips lightly with his palm, not too hard.

Unfazed, Jiyod grabbed his wrist and pressed a long kiss to his palm. Then, chuckling softly, he slipped his tongue between Slan’s twitching white fingers.

Slan’s shoulders trembled, but he glared at Jiyod, eyebrows furrowed.

“Is it that easy?”

“Of course, that wizard isn’t an enemy I’d want to face. But if there’s a chance, it’s now or never. Before he’s fully prepared…”

“Then it’s really war.”

“Weren’t you already thinking about it?”

Jiyod’s voice was tender and sweet, in contrast to his words.

“Since the first time you showed me the great bridge, Slan. So what’s the problem if it’s a bit early?”

“But not yet…”

As Slan hesitated, Jiyod shrugged.

“Of course, the easiest way would be to just cut that Ismion guy in half and split him evenly… but that wouldn’t be a pretty sight, would it?”

Slan gave a small laugh, but it lacked energy. Even that faded quickly, and a shadow of worry fell over the archlord’s beautiful face.

They had already seen the might of the magical kingdom, and Kirdara was behind them too. Besides, war hadn’t been part of Slan’s plans to begin with. At least not right now…

Jiyod lowered his head, pressing his forehead against the shallow dip between Slan’s eyebrows.

“What’s worrying you? Neither you nor I have ever lost a war.”

“Confidence… you lost once at Roxburg, didn’t you? You, not me.”

“A small defeat. In the end, you came, saved me, and led the war to victory, didn’t you?”

Jiyod retorted calmly.

When Slan shot him an incredulous look, Jiyod brushed the corner of Slan’s eye with the back of his hand and smiled.

“You decide, Slan.”

“…Karlac doesn’t have the resources for a large-scale war right now. The conflict in the Black Continent already caused unexpected expenses, the road construction is costing a fortune, the wall repairs aren’t even finished, and the tax reforms… Ha. And then there’s the great bridge construction.”

Slan’s voice turned into a grumble as he went on. Jiyod responded with a voice tinged with amusement.

“Well, isn’t that why the magical kingdom is acting like this? They think we won’t choose war. But here’s my thought, Slan. No matter the situation, you don’t need to bow to the court wizard first. Especially not when the cause is that Ismion guy.”

“Ismion…”

Slan’s gaze drifted sideways before returning to Jiyod. His blue eyes sparkled.

“Ismion is a Karlac wizard. He chose to stay by my side, and even then, he didn’t leave me. He followed us through Alto’s civil war, came back, and stayed by my side again. I don’t have much left, Jiyod. And Ismion is one of the few things I do have. You know that.”

“I know.”

Jiyod gazed at Slan with soft eyes.

“That’s why I’m saying do what you want.”

Slan fell silent for a moment.

So Jiyod, quietly holding Slan, suddenly spoke.

“Or how about this? We try talking one more time.”

Slan’s face immediately scrunched up.

“With the court wizard?”

“Yes. Whatever his title, he’s still the ruler of a nation. You might find some common ground with him.”

“With that guy?”

Slan let out a slight scoff, but Jiyod continued fluently.

“We’ve seen their strength, but they’ve seen ours too. And isn’t that court wizard the one who took the lead in making peace with Kirdara? He’s a bit emotional right now, sure, but war can be fought anytime, can’t it?”

“Anytime, any amount?”

Slan couldn’t help but be incredulous at Jiyod talking about war like it was a neighborhood brawl. When Slan asked in disbelief, Jiyod gave a shameless look, as if to say, “Why not?”

“Well, it’s a pretty petty reason, I admit. But it’s not like such wars don’t happen. My only worry is that history might record Ismion as the guy who bewitched both the lords of eastern Karlac and the magical kingdom… Pretty disgusting, don’t you think?”

“Ha… Ismion wouldn’t want that either.”

Finally, Slan started to laugh.

At that laugh, Jiyod’s face lit up with an ecstatic smile. He wrapped his arms around Slan’s back, pulling him closer, and pressed his forehead against Slan’s. Gazing tenderly into Slan’s blue eyes, he whispered.

“Don’t worry, Slan. I’m here.”

The voice of a knight who would surely always, forever, be by his side. Listening to that confident voice, Slan sank quietly into thought.

*

The negotiations were temporarily halted. The atmosphere in the fortress was tense, on the verge of exploding. No one dared step outside their quarters or pass along words.

Slan had to make a decision.

If the capital’s wizards left Karlac like this, it would mean discord, which would provide a pretext for war. The battlefield might not even be the Black Continent this time.

On the seventh dawn after the negotiations stopped and the fortress gates were tightly shut, Slan rode out alone from the fortress. Of course, knowing Jiyod was always by his side, he had no worries.

Just before dawn. The rugged land was cloaked in darkness, with jagged white lines cutting between the black sky and the pale eternal snow.

Slan urged his horse along a narrow, steep path paved with stone tiles. As the altitude rose, the road grew narrower until it ended at a small clearing marked by a large boulder standing like a signpost.

The clearing, shrouded in darkness, was silent, occasionally broken by the sound of eternal snow tumbling from the mountaintop into the canyon.

The court wizard was already there.

Since he wasn’t on horseback, Slan dismounted as well.

The wizard’s face was obscured by the dim dawn shadows, only a pale silhouette visible. His lips, hidden in the darkness, seemed either nervous or expressionless. Reading the intentions of a wizard with superhuman power wasn’t easy, even for Slan.

The court wizard, staring into the darkness, turned toward Slan.

“What’s the reason for calling me out here?”

“I thought we should talk, just the two of us.”

“Fine. Let’s hear it.”

The wizard sneered.

Instead of getting angry, Slan looked past him at the towering black cliff, like a curtain. The sharp, majestic ridge of the Tanallan Great Canyon.

That was Slan’s wall. The one he’d spent his life trying to overcome…

Slan looked back at the court wizard.

“The ban on sorcery was part of a policy to eradicate the rampant human sacrifices of the past. Now, it’s left only the side effect of unfair trials.”

The court wizard visibly furrowed his brow. Even in the darkness, Slan could read the deep disgust on his face. With a bitter smile, Slan continued.

“I first met Ismion in a Karlac prison.”

“I expected as much.”

“Yes. As you might guess, I’m the one who spared him and made him a Karlac wizard. So if anyone broke the capital’s laws, it was me.”

“Ha.”

The court wizard let out a cold, deflating laugh.

“If you thought you could make me laugh with nonsense, you’ve done a decent job, Lord Karlac.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Slan replied nonchalantly.

“What’s your game?”

The court wizard asked sharply. Slan met his gaze. This threatening wizard could probably kill Slan with a flick of his finger. Maybe he was even thinking about it right now. But in this moment, Slan decided to extend his hand first.

“You said Ismion conducted forbidden human experiments, but with that magic, he saved Lord Ipsen and, ultimately, saved me, putting me where I am now.”

This time, the court wizard didn’t laugh. He simply listened to Slan’s words.

“He saved me and made me the master of Karlac. I don’t know how to measure the value of that.”

Slan let out a short sigh.

A life for a life. What a concise maxim.

“So tell me, court wizard. What does the capital want in exchange for his life?”

Silence and the rustling sound of the wind filled the space between them.

Now the court wizard stared at Slan without expression. There was something inhuman about the white face of the wizard, who was nearly omnipotent, transcending humanity.

After a moment, the wizard spoke.

“We might end up fighting.”

He spoke of war. A grueling war that could last ten years, perhaps their entire lives.

Slan affirmed with silence.

Ismion was merely a trivial trigger.

When they met in the Black Continent, Slan had instinctively known this wizard would become Karlac’s most formidable enemy. Even more so than Kirdara. He should have killed him on the spot. But he hadn’t, because he realized the wizard had looked at him and thought the same thing.

Then the court wizard turned his gaze to the opposite side. Beyond the Great Canyon, where a faint mist lay. The black cliff stood firm like a wall.

In a quieter voice, he asked.

“You’re building the bridge, aren’t you?”

“…That’s the plan.”

“It won’t be easy to overcome the opposition.”

“Probably not.”

Of course, it was Slan’s burden to bear.

Another silence.

The court wizard turned his head again. Now, a pale dawn was rising over the ridge, gradually tinting the surroundings with a dim golden light. Thanks to that, the wizard’s eyes became visible. His colorless irises reflected light in all directions like the finest diamond, making him look almost like an intricately crafted doll.

“Kirdara is wary of you.”

“I know. It was foreseeable ever since the marriage alliance fell apart.”

“So is our capital.”

“I’m not one to say this, but that’s only natural. The magical kingdom is allied with Kirdara. But, court wizard, let me be clear about one thing. I have no intention of fighting both of them at once.”

“At once. Of course you wouldn’t.”

He mimicked Slan’s words with a slight sneer, then muttered softly to himself.

“Karlacians might think this Great Canyon has protected Karlac, but I see it differently. This Great Canyon was holding you back.”

As he spoke, he stared into the distant darkness as if Slan weren’t there. A few seconds later, he asked again.

“Did you choose this place to show me that bridge?”

Slan didn’t answer.

“I know what you’re seeing through that great bridge. I know why you wanted to show it to me…”

The great bridge. Slan’s lifelong ambition. A passageway to the fertile continent on the other side and the starting point of a new Karlac.

So, Slan had wanted to make that clear to the court wizard. The Great Canyon could no longer hold him back, and now Karlac was ready to advance beyond it.

The court wizard, who surely recognized the threat, remained expressionless.

“But I see something different, Lord Karlac.”

“Something different?”

“Yes.”

After that, the court wizard fell silent for quite a while. He seemed almost hesitant.

Slan imagined his response. And it was Slan’s response as well. War, a great massacre, blood-soaked plains, Karlac’s cavalry trampling the east beyond the Great Canyon, burning seas, and sinking galleons. Not just the magical kingdom and Kirdara, but a grand defensive alliance including Corteang and the southern isles, the likes of which had never existed before. And all of them would be Karlac’s enemies.

But in the very moment Slan thought of war, the court wizard gave an answer he hadn’t expected, yet perhaps was the one he most desired.

“What I see is you opening Karlac’s gates through that bridge.”

Those words stopped Slan’s thoughts.

In that moment, the madness and hatred—the dwarfs that had always haunted his mind since the night he swallowed poison—vanished. As the dawn mist cleared, everything became perfectly clear. The sun was rising over the ridge behind the court wizard. The golden dawn cast a backlight on the wizard’s face, creating a long shadow.

His words continued.

“I see our wizards crossing that great bridge, Karlac’s wizards visiting us over it. People, animals, and goods all passing through there. All safe, all peaceful. Of course, there’s no ban on sorcery or unfair trials there. That’s what I see, Lord Karlac. What do you think? Compared to a war that could last ten years, perhaps our entire lives, does it seem overly mild?”

Now the surroundings were bright.

The court wizard, who had seemed like a massive stone statue, revealed a pale, pristine face, and the sun was above their heads.

A slow smile spread across Slan’s face.

“The Karlac wizards who led the unfair trials are all dead.”

At that response, the court wizard looked up and gazed at Slan silently. Knowing of Karlac’s grueling purges, the wizard said nothing more.

And Slan, once again, saw what he had seen in this canyon in the past.

But in a different way.

‘Perhaps.’

The archlord thought.

‘Perhaps there’s another way besides war.’