Chapter 55

The relationship between royalty, the nobility, and the magicians existed in a state of perpetually volatile equilibrium.

The root of this tension lay in the royal curse, which forced nearly every member of the direct royal bloodline to enter into a binding contract with a magician. Power had steadily pooled in the hands of the magicians, attracting sycophants hoping to cultivate alliances as well as opportunists seeking to exploit magical might for private gain. In that manner, the magicians’ political base became entrenched.

Simultaneously, the high nobility deeply resented watching commoners wield influence as if they belonged to the great political houses. Magical ability was a biological anomaly, a freak mutation. While magicians occasionally manifested within noble bloodlines, such instances were exceptionally rare, and none possessed enough potency to distinguish themselves.

Some nobles openly decried the magicians, while others played the part of friends while slandering them in the dark. Consequently, both factions treated one another with extreme caution, feigning intimacy while remaining fundamentally suspicious.

Certain royals and nobles were tethered to their contracted magicians like a needle to its thread. Whenever the aristocracy converged for a royal function, their magicians generally trailed in their wake. Whether the affair was grand or modest, one could usually spot at least a few magicians in the crowd.

However—

“The Guildmaster rarely deigns to attend even major functions,” Isaac muttered.

He had spoken softly, but Brick, standing close by, caught the observation and offered a sharp nod. “They say he has been obsessed with esoteric research since he was a youth. Some consider that a blessing. Just imagine how troublesome it would be if the magician contracted to His Majesty openly coveted political influence and began manipulating the court.” Brick shot him a curious look. “Why are you suddenly so interested in him?”

Instead of offering a reply, Isaac surveyed the Grand Council Chamber. Nearly a hundred members of the royalty and nobility sat within the cavernous hall, their retinues and personal guards standing at rigid attention along the walls. More than a dozen magicians were also in attendance.

Attendance at the monthly Council of State was not strictly mandatory even for the nobility, so there was naturally no pressing reason for the Guildmaster to grace them with his presence. Even so, Isaac found himself scanning the crowd, nerves frayed, just in case the man had appeared. The Guildmaster’s sigil remained seared into his memory.

Isaac looked toward the dais. The King sat at the center, with Kaiyan occupying the seat immediately to his right. As always, the prince wore a mask of absolute indifference. Isaac could not decipher his internal state.

“…”

Roverni’s witch now inhabited the Guildmaster’s vessel. Kaiyan had likely arrived at the same conclusion. Given the prince’s volatile temperament, he would not hesitate for long. Furthermore, the witch now knew that Kaiyan had unmasked her. They needed to move before she fled.

One fortunate reality was that securing a new vessel was no trivial matter. She could not vacate her present body until she had procured another, and a host capable of housing a witch comfortably was notoriously difficult to locate. The host’s essence had to harmonize with the witch’s malignant energy, and the body had to possess a baseline of magic to sustain her spirit. Inevitably, the vessel had to be a magician.

Yet, the more powerful a magician was, the more acutely they understood the catastrophic toll of a contract that demanded both body and soul. Those who mastered the arcane knew better than anyone the sheer horror of these magical pacts. Even Alikisa would struggle to find a magician desperate enough to enter such a compact, knowing it meant the total destruction of their soul.

It was not a feat she could accomplish in a day or two, unless, perhaps, someone with a truly corrupted nature was already within reach and had been pre-selected. Even then, that person would require a desire potent enough to justify their own ruin. The situation was not so dire that every heartbeat was a countdown. Still, they could not remain idle. There was no chance Kaiyan would permit such inaction.

“Making an enemy of the Magicians’ Guild would be an act of staggering folly, wouldn’t it?” Isaac asked.

Brick nodded. “Obviously. Even His Majesty would find it nearly impossible to discard them carelessly at this stage.”

Exactly.

The magicians’ influence was so pervasive that it was said they could pluck a bird from the sky. No matter how universally feared and revered Kaiyan might be, he could not launch a reckless, frontal assault against the Guildmaster. Then again—knowing him, he might simply storm in and strike the man down regardless.

That possibility was exactly what terrified Isaac. The mere prospect of the fallout left the future looking bleak, and he hunched his shoulders against the encroaching dread.

“Still, perhaps some rot has taken root within the Guild,” Brick murmured. “They keep suffering humiliation after humiliation. Take yesterday’s incident, for example.”

Isaac stared at him, bewildered. “What happened yesterday?”

“What? Oh. Have you not heard?” Brick clicked his tongue, unimpressed. “You have become woefully detached from court gossip since burying yourself in the Blue Shadow Palace. I am speaking of Lord Ruorden. They say he had his magician subjected to a savage flogging.”

Isaac blinked.

Lord Ruorden was the eldest son of the King’s second younger brother, making him the King’s nephew. He possessed a fiery temper, certainly, but he was widely known as openhearted, sociable, and sharp enough to hold a respectable position at court.

More importantly, he was famous for his benevolence toward his own staff. He seemed like the last man on earth to abuse a contracted magician. A public flogging was particularly difficult to reconcile with his character.

“What actually transpired?”

“No one knows the precise catalyst, but it appears his contract with his magician was violently severed. It occurred the night before last—on the new moon, no less.”

Isaac halted, a dark frown knitting his brows. The new moon. That meant Lord Ruorden had been forced to endure the full, unmitigated brunt of that exquisite, soul-tearing agony.

“They say he tore at his own flesh, eventually resorting to stabbing himself repeatedly with a dagger, seemingly preferring death to the agony of the severance. The entire room turned into a blood-slicked hellscape. His attendants nearly fainted at the sight and summoned the magician in a panic, so the ordeal did not drag on for long.” Brick lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Still, in little more than an hour, Lord Ruorden’s hair turned bone-white, and his body wasted away to mere skin and bone.”

“And so…”

“Yes. The moment he regained enough lucidity to process what had occurred, he flew into such a murderous rage that he lost all reason and had the magician dragged out and flogged on the spot.”

Isaac clicked his tongue in a sharp, impatient rhythm. The agony of a public lashing was surely beyond imagination, and he could well sympathize with the state of Ruorden’s mind. Even so—

“Magicians possess an extraordinary amount of pride. To have one flogged in public…” Isaac murmured, shaking his head. “It is truly fortunate that these court magicians swear an oath of loyalty that prevents them from harming the royal family. Otherwise, Lord Ruorden would be plagued by nightmares for the rest of his life.”

“Precisely. And the magician currently under contract to Lord Ruorden is particularly notorious for his arrogance and sky-high ego.”

“Is that so? Who was it again?”

“You know the one. That supposed genius adopted by the Guildmaster. He is the same man who recently had his arm severed by Lord Kaiyan.”

Only then did the memory of the young magician Isaac had seen recently surface. What returned to him most vividly was the hollow, lightless gaze the man had worn as he departed that day. His eyes had held nothing but pure, unadulterated resentment. Even the recollection of that absolute blackness sent a shiver down Isaac’s spine.

“That man? Why would the contract suddenly dissolve?”

“No one knows. Perhaps he felt responsible, as witnesses claim he endured the flogging without uttering a single cry of resistance. They described the look in his eyes as truly horrifying.” Brick paused, his expression darkening. “Even after all that, he personally scrubbed the entire blood-soaked room clean before leaving.” Brick then offered a light shrug. “After Lord Ruorden finally calmed down, he apparently sent the magician gifts of consolation. But who knows what will come of that?” Brick frowned, clearly troubled by a nagging thought. “Is it even possible for a magical contract to be broken unilaterally?”

Isaac shot him a sharp look. “I am not certain. Why do you ask?”

“There have been rumors circulating that the magician has been behaving quite strangely of late.”

“What sort of strange?”

“They say he speaks far less than he once did and has become visibly gloomy. A magician who is friendly with my brother mentioned in passing that the malignant energy surrounding him has been growing steadily stronger. He was worried, and now my brother is quite concerned as well.” Brick clicked his tongue in frustration. “Then again, my brother tends to worry about every minor detail.”

Brick’s elder brother, Brown, served as the deputy commander of the royal guards. Whether because of the responsibilities of his rank or his natural, cautious temperament, he paid meticulous attention to the most trivial matters. Among the guards, the common joke was that only one-tenth of Brown’s concerns ever warranted serious consideration.

“…”

Isaac released a heavy, steadying breath. He had a distinctly ominous feeling about the entire affair. Under normal circumstances, one party could not unilaterally break a magical contract. To succeed, it required the interference of a far more potent magic, or the possession of a substitute for the other party—typically something tethered to the essence of life, such as a sample of blood or a piece of the physical body. Failing that, one of the two had to die.

Although they had been speaking in hushed tones, an official seated immediately ahead of them seemed to take notice. He glanced back, prompting Isaac and Brick to instantly straighten their posture and stare solemnly toward the front of the chamber. The Council of State proceeded without any particularly unusual agenda, unfolding much as it always did.

Far toward the front of the hall, Lord Ruorden sat in silence. Just as Brick had observed, his hair had turned a stark white, and his face appeared at least a decade older than when Isaac had last encountered him. The agony of his ordeal had clearly been severe enough to strip away the man’s very vitality.

At the very head of the chamber, just ahead of Ruorden, the King sat enthroned with his perpetually round, kindly expression. Beside him sat the Chief Minister, whose face appeared strict yet good-natured, the ever-placid royal secretary, and the prince, who remained languid and utterly devoid of expression. Isaac still found him impossible to read. He had no inkling of what Kaiyan might be thinking, and that ignorance only fueled his growing anxiety. If Isaac could merely admire him from a distance, Kaiyan would resemble a beautiful, living sculpture—the sight would be entirely pleasant.

In reality, he found the man terrifying.

“Mm… Lord Kaiyan is truly dazzling, no matter how many times one sees him,” Brick murmured from beside him. “If he would only sit there and do absolutely nothing for the rest of his life, there would be nothing more anyone could wish for.”

Isaac, who had also fixed his gaze upon the prince, retorted, “What are you talking about? Poems and songs praising the young hero who returned after exterminating the magical beasts of the frontier will fill this capital for the next hundred years.”

“Those poets and singers never have to meet him in person.”

That was undeniably true.

Still, Isaac served the man directly now; he could hardly insult him openly. He agreed with the sentiment only in his thoughts.

Brick glanced toward him. “So? Are you safe?”

The subtle inquiry sounded far too suggestive to be innocent. Isaac immediately bristled and shot him a glare. “Completely safe!”

“You don’t look safe to me.”

Brick openly inspected Isaac from head to toe. His gaze lingered pointedly upon the bandages wrapped around Isaac’s arms and legs.

“These are just… regardless, I am fine. And Lord Kaiyan did not do this to me.”