Chapter 63

Kosha did not keep his promise.

Not intentionally, of course.

Human logic and a mage’s reasoning had simply become tangled together in his mind. He fully intended to return to his room, and naturally, he would get there eventually, but first, he wanted to wash.

Although Lucien had wiped him down, the man’s clumsy hands had done a poor job of it, and Kosha could still feel the lingering traces of what Lucien had left inside his body.

Surely stopping by the bathhouse on the way to his room and scrubbing himself clean would still count as going straight there.

As for why he ignored the bathhouse nearest his quarters and instead wandered all the way to the communal baths at the far edge of the West Wing, perhaps that had been nothing more than a whim.

A mage could go wherever he pleased and do whatever he wished.

Kosha moved at an unhurried pace. The strange atmosphere permeating the castle had set his senses on edge, sharpening them almost without conscious thought. Few people crossed his path, yet traces of their presence surrounded him: murmuring voices, quiet breaths, and unfamiliar currents of alien energy.

He tugged the hood of the robe Lucien had draped over him farther down his face. Now that he could no longer use his “human shell,” the robe served as a new kind of protective barrier, concealing him from prying eyes. Kosha had not consciously intended it that way. The gesture had arisen from instinct, as natural to a mage as breathing.

When he rounded a secluded corner behind the West Wing, the soft patter of his footsteps abruptly ceased.

A man was crouched with his back to Kosha, huddled in the corner. He did not appear to be attending to any ordinary business, and more importantly, he was dressed far too well for someone lurking alone in such an isolated place.

There was something else, too.

“What are you doing there?”

The question slipped out before Kosha could reconsider it.

The man, who had been completely absorbed in whatever he was doing, jolted so violently that he lost his balance and landed hard on his backside.

“Ah, damn it! You scared the hell out of me!”

Sprawled across the ground, he looked every bit like a court noble. Kosha drew the collar of his robe more tightly around himself.

“Wait… who are you?”

The man hurriedly brushed the dirt from his trousers and scrambled to his feet, bringing them face-to-face. His hair was red, and his features were smooth and meticulously groomed. Though his clean-shaven face was undeniably handsome, the sharp point of his chin gave him a pinched, petty look.

He narrowed his eyes and scrutinized Kosha with a gaze that seemed to prod at him like the tip of a needle. “What are you supposed to be? A mage? One of the lackeys who tagged along with the Tower’s envoy?”

Kosha offered no answer.

The man studied him for another moment as though calculating his worth, then let out a short, dismissive laugh. “You’re just a kid, aren’t you? You don’t look like anyone I saw around here thirty years ago.” He muttered the observation to himself despite appearing no older than his mid-thirties.

Kosha hesitated before asking, “Are you a mage?”

“Eh? You don’t know who I am?”

The man’s jaw dropped as though Kosha had said something utterly absurd.

“You’ve never heard of the great Alpheisa? What the hell are they teaching at the Tower these days?”

“Alpheisa?”

“Some people call me Alpi.”

He delivered the nickname with tremendous self-importance, but Kosha merely shook his head. He was not from the Tower in the first place, so none of this meant anything to him.

The man’s expression soured. “That crazy old hag. Is she trying to erase my name from existence?”

For all the refinement suggested by his appearance, his manner of speaking possessed none whatsoever. Kosha, however, had no interest in either his name or his grievances.

“I asked what you were doing.”

“Doing?” The man’s mouth curled into a grin. “What does it look like?”

Kosha stared at him without responding.

“I’m only taking care of something that needs to be done. Nothing a kid like you needs to worry about.”

“…”

“What’s with that face?” The stranger clicked his tongue. “Weren’t you lot planning to stick your noses into this soon enough anyway? I have ears, you know.” He continued rambling in riddles, apparently unconcerned by Kosha’s silence. “Don’t worry. I won’t interfere with whatever that woman is doing, all right? Just this once, we’re… what do you call it? In the same boat.”

“…”

“Honestly, the third prince is the greatest nuisance to your side too, isn’t he? At least, when you look at it that way.”

The man sauntered closer with a swagger in his step. Kosha instinctively recoiled, but the stranger slapped him on the back with brazen familiarity.

“Then… can I go tell them?” Kosha asked, his voice barely rising above a whisper.

The man furrowed his brow. “What?”

After considering the question for a moment, he broke into another grin. “I suppose it doesn’t really matter, but…”

Without warning, he raised one hand and cracked his palm against Kosha’s forehead.

Thwack!

“Forget everything!”

Raw mana saturated his voice, sending a violent tremor through the space around them. Kosha’s hood absorbed some of the impact, but not nearly enough. He staggered backward while the man threw his head back and burst into boisterous laughter.

“Go ahead and tattle to that old hag! Tell her you met the great Alpi!”

He turned and strode away, waving dismissively over one shoulder.

Kosha leaned against the wall until he recovered his breath, then slowly pushed back his hood and stared in the direction the man had disappeared.

“Is he insane…?”

Once he was certain the area had fallen completely silent, Kosha approached the corner with care. He stopped precisely where the man had been crouching and scraped his toe across the earth.

It did not take long for him to strike something solid.

Buried beneath the dirt was a small, round metal pendant engraved with the seal of a fishlike beast. A dark and turbid energy seeped from it, creating a sensation only a mage would have been capable of detecting.

It was the source of the foul disturbance that had been gnawing at his nerves ever since his return to the castle.

Kosha surveyed his surroundings. From a point directly diagonal to the pendant’s hiding place, he sensed the unmistakable trace of Lucien’s energy.

Just then, the green lizard poked its head out from the sleeve of his robe.

Kosha crouched and placed it on the ground. The creature marched purposefully into the shallow hollow, opened its jaws wide, and clamped them around the pendant. The metal reddened where its teeth sank in. Corrosion spread outward in a deep crimson stain until the pendant crumbled into fine powder and disappeared into the surrounding soil.

“How dare you,” the green-eyed mage murmured.

The lizard answered with a loud, satisfied burp.

***