Chapter 238

“Dangerous?”

“Yes! 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󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄂Sage—Margrave of Bellua! The Margrave! He is in danger right now. Quickly—quickly, we have to move! There is no time for this!”

“Wait. ‍​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍󠄂󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄂Wait. What in the world are you talking about?”

The ‍​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍󠄂󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄂Margrave of Bellua was in danger at the party? If there was ever a bolt from the blue, this was it.

Magician ‍​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍󠄂󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄂Agpiel was thrown into confusion by the Second Lord Gertman’s shout.

And ‍​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍󠄂󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄁󠄀󠄁󠄀󠄀󠄀󠄁󠄂Count Steffen, the knight beside him, seemed no different.

“More importantly, what is this man? He barges in at midnight with such rudeness and dares to issue a warning?”

Count Steffen frowned, gripping the hilt of his sword as he answered curtly. He looked ready to draw at any moment and strike the Second Lord Gertman down.

“Calm yourself. It is Lord Gertman.”

“Lord Gertman? You mean the Duke of Bourgogne’s second?”

“That is right.”

“Then why is he here, suddenly warning us like this…?”

“It seems something has happened. Most likely.”

After the brief exchange, Magician Agpiel, now wearing a grave expression, looked at the Second Lord Gertman, who was catching his breath.

“What has happened? At this dead hour of night—riding here alone.”

Agpiel asked as calmly as he could, but for some reason he felt he already knew.

That suspicion, the one he had laughed away before the Margrave left with the young noble…

Sure enough.

“The Margrave of Bellua is in danger, Magician Agpiel. The banquet at the royal castle is a trap. It is a trap my father laid!”

“Ah…!”

“What did you say?”

The reality he had assumed in the worst case had come to pass.

Magician Agpiel felt his mind go distant. That what he feared had truly happened!

“Is it truly not a lie, Lord Gertman?”

“O-of course it is not. If it were a lie, would I have ridden here alone in such haste? But who is this man, Sage?”

“Count Steffen.”

“What? Count Steffen? You mean the Emperor’s…?”

“That is right.”

“No! Why is he here? And at the Margrave of Bellua’s…?”

At the unexpected identity, the Second Lord Gertman looked thoroughly shaken.

But Magician Agpiel did not seem to spare it much attention.

“That is not what matters now, is it? So, you—can you take responsibility for what you have said? Moving troops through the capital, and toward the royal castle at that, is a grave matter that could be construed as treason.”

“T-that… it is the truth. I swear it on my honor. No—I'll come with you. If it is not true, kill me on the spot.”

“Hmmm….”

He would stake his life.

At the decisiveness of those words, Magician Agpiel groaned softly and fell into thought. Then he nodded and continued.

“Your hollow honor does not seem more important than the Margrave’s honor, but… very well. I will trust you.”

“My, Magician. You truly mean to believe this man and follow him?”

“Then what? Is there another method?”

“At least send a swift knight first, to confirm what is happening—”

The Second Lord Gertman cut him off at once.

“No. We are already late. We must go now!”

“He is insisting.”

“Hmph….”

“Do not glare at him so fiercely. He is, in his own way, an important partner to the Margrave. And did he not wager everything he has? If things go wrong…”

“Yes. Do not worry. I will handle it immediately.”

Count Steffen said so while stroking his sword hilt. Watching the two men speak such chilling words as though it were nothing, the Second Lord Gertman felt a shiver crawl up his spine.

It seemed these people would hold him responsible as well if anything happened to the Margrave of Bellua.

“Prepare at once! Elf knights! This is the perfect chance to repay His Excellency’s grace. Move!”

‘Damn it… God, please. Let us not be too late.’

Amid the knights moving in frantic haste, the Second Lord Gertman found himself praying with desperate sincerity.

---

“How unfortunate. Unfortunate, and truly regrettable.”

A short while earlier.

In a shadowed corner of the banquet hall, I had already poured out all of my position to the Duke of Bourgogne.

My firm resolve to keep my promise to him; my declaration that I had no interest in the Kingdom’s throne; even that, for the sake of proving it, I was willing to have it notarized and proclaimed before God.

I had tried, by any means, to preserve my relationship with the Duke of Bourgogne and keep this fractured Kingdom held in its current state.

But…

The answer that returned was exactly what I had heard a moment ago.

Unfortunate, and truly regrettable.

And on top of that, the Duke of Bourgogne continued.

“And your sincerity… I almost want to believe it.”

“Then can you not simply believe it as it is, Your Grace?”

“Believe? Do you think you can apply the word ‘belief’ so easily between us—no, between humans?”

At my words, the Duke of Bourgogne gave a faint smile and sneered.

“The Church says one must restrain desire and live with charity and faith, but reality is not so, is it? Countless nobles and clergymen, each driven by their own desires, change their faith and convictions as easily as flipping a hand over.”

“So you will insist on making me your enemy?”

“Is that not rather lacking in dignity? Let us say, instead, that I intend to eliminate an uncertain variable.”

At the Duke of Bourgogne’s wordplay, I no longer felt any value in continuing this conversation. By his own logic, were we not now complete enemies?

“You will regret that decision.”

With my resolve for the coming war, I glared at him as I spoke. But the Duke of Bourgogne’s reaction was strange.

“Regret? There will be no regret, Margrave of Bellua.”

As he spoke, the Duke of Bourgogne suddenly snapped his fingers toward the space behind him.

-CLICK!

Then black shadows began to ripple from behind a hidden pillar.

“Because you will not leave this place alive. Your grave is here.”

Knights in heavy full plate.

And magicians who, at a glance, gave off a suspicious, uncanny mystery.

-SHNK!

They drew swords and raised staves, aiming for my life.

“Hah….”

I let out a sigh.

I had entertained the thought, but to think he would truly do it. No—if I had properly considered the Duke of Bourgogne’s nature, I should have anticipated even this worst possible option.

‘I let my guard down. I let my guard down.’

To think he would try to kill me openly, here, with so many people—inside a banquet hall.

When one considered the aftermath, it was not a decision one could make lightly.

Then, as though he had read my thoughts, the Duke of Bourgogne spoke.

“Do not worry. No one will leave this banquet hall alive today. It will be said they died at the hands of someone who led a sudden, cowardly attack.”

“Hah… that cowardly attacker will be me, I suppose? Duke of Bourgogne.”

“Precisely. The banquet hall will be sealed, and soldiers will pour in through hidden passages. All of them will be soldiers bearing your family’s seal.”

“Haha… truly…”

It was a cruel plan.

And also one with a high chance of success.

If only he could kill both me and everyone inside this hall.

Of course, that was far from easy.

“Fine. If that is how you will play it, then I have no choice.”

I drew up the mystery within my body.

-WHUUUUM!

I had no intention of dying like an idiot.

“Come!”

---

-BOOM!

A tremendous roar exploded.

-CRASH! CLATTER!

A heavy body flew through the air and tumbled across the floor. The helmet on one side had caved in from the impact, and the body continued to twitch and tremble.

“Eeeek!”

“W-what is this?!”

“Huh? An assassin! An assassin! Guards, what are you doing?!”

The banquet hall descended into chaos. A man with a crushed face was rolling on the floor in blood, and behind him came an unidentified figure with a drawn blade.

No matter how drunk they were, they still had enough sense to recognize what was happening.

“Everyone, fall back! The Duke of Bourgogne is trying to kill us all!”

Breaking out of the encirclement, I shouted at the panicked crowd.

“??”

“Who is this madman to say such—huh?”

“N-no… the Margrave of Bellua?”

I heard the nobles’ cries of confusion, but I had no time to care.

‘Damn it!’

-SHRAAAAK!

Because the Duke of Bourgogne’s knights were already upon me, unleashing sharp attacks aimed at my body.

-CLANG!

-CLASH! CLASH!

Blades flashed, swung as though they would cut into my flesh at any moment. Between the glittering sword light, I saw wicked mystery surging—no doubt supported by the magicians behind them.

But my superior physical ability and the combat experience I had accumulated allowed me to evade their strikes without difficulty.

The problem was—

“Huh?! What in the—”

-THUD!

“Ghk—!”

The blind blades did not spare the surrounding nobles.

“Eeeek!”

Rather than hesitating, as though they found it annoying, the Duke of Bourgogne’s knights advanced while cutting down the people around them without mercy.

“Tsk.”

I clicked my tongue.

I realized that merely dodging was not the answer. And it was not the only problem.

-THUD THUD THUD THUD!

“Yes! Seal the banquet hall. Sweep them all away! Do not let a single one live!”

As the Duke of Bourgogne had boasted, soldiers were truly pouring in.

Whether I liked it or not, I had to fight back immediately and crush them as I had earlier.

But I had no weapon.

Facing them barehanded was far too dangerous.

‘Hm?!’

Then something caught my eye—something that looked useful. I deflected an onrushing knight’s strike and dashed forward, snatching it up.

-RIIIP!

-CRASHCLATTER!

It was the tablecloth that covered the long banquet table. I quickly took the end of the cloth and tied it into a rough, blunt knot. Forks and dishes were mixed in, but that only made it better.

The faces of the Duke of Bourgogne’s knights, who had rushed in and formed an encirclement, twisted into something grotesque.

A tablecloth—what could he possibly do with that…?

That was the look on their faces.

To them, a tablecloth was not a weapon.

And it was large, at that.

It had covered a banquet table easily six meters long.

Even if I meant to swing it as a weapon, surely I would not be able to wield something that heavy.

Their thought was, on its face, reasonable.

Except for one problem.

The one holding it was me.

-WHOOM!

“?????????”

The heavy-looking tablecloth began to whirl through the air, making a terrifying tearing roar as it spun.

-WHUUUUM!

-WHOOM WHOOM WHOOM!

The knight who saw it recoiled in horror.

But he should have retreated instead of staring.

-WHAAAAAM!

-BOOM!

The tablecloth—now a monstrous blunt weapon—smashed into the knight’s body.

-KUHUK!

He managed to block with his shield, but the crushing impact still transmitted through it. The knight staggered, trying desperately to steady himself, but my bizarre weapon technique did not stop.

-BOOM!

-BOOM! BOOM!

Once. Twice.

I did not know how many times after that—only that the tablecloth, filled with dreadful rotational force, kept hammering him like an iron mace.

Shields, armor, even the weapon techniques they prided themselves on—none of it could even begin to withstand that merciless assault.

And the end of that assault—

-CRUNCH!

The shield split, and the knight’s steel helmet crumpled, announcing the end.

“O… oh, s— Lord… God?”

In that moment, even the Duke of Bourgogne’s knights found themselves calling for God without meaning to.

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