Thirty minutes later, Rosenberg walked into the dining room. “How did it go?” I asked.
“All well. Once you left, Mister Foster was able to collect himself. There was no squirming or injuries on either side.”
“Wonderful!”
“They requested to apologize and explain their reason for coming here. Will you meet them?”
“How is my curse?” I asked. “I did try altering the protection spell to contain it somewhat.”
“It has grown slightly stronger than before, but it seems your new spell is containing it sufficiently. From what I could ascertain from our brief conversation, much of the tension had come from the bad timing. There should not be a repeat performance of what transpired on the path.”
Rosenberg’s expert endorsement was good enough for me to trust my spell’s effectiveness. I stepped outside to formally welcome our guests.
“Incredible! The rock-hewn look and aggressively minimalist construction...just like the altars of Vaughtecion Temple and Zepherion Ruins. Truly incredible!”
“Master Perdor! Knock it off! We are trespassing on Duke Jamil’s land!”
What I saw outside was the architect trying to cling to the wall of the cottage, held back by Ethan Foster. Behind them, four men awkwardly stood around, each of them wearing matching armor to Ethan. From this vignette alone, I could imagine what Ethan had to deal with on a daily basis. I invited Beckentein, his entourage, and my noble friends inside.
Hudson, Eleonora, and I sat on one side of the table while Sebas stood in the corner of the room. Across from us sat Beckentein and Foster, the other guards lining up behind them. Rosenberg sat at the head of the table so he could supply additional information about the work going on here.
“As you may know, I am Perdor Beckentein—genius architect.”
“I am his guard, Ethan Foster.”
“It is very nice to meet you both. My name is Ryoma Takebayashi. I am not well-versed in etiquette. Please forgive any indiscretions on my part.”
“No, we are the ones who have left our courtesy behind. Entering the grounds run by another house’s engineer without his permission is not acceptable,” Beckentein said.
“First, allow us to apologize. We are truly sorry for entering your territory without permission...and for the boorish behavior I showed earlier,” said Foster.
Our conversation began with quick introductions, Beckentein puffing his chest for some reason. As I could glean from the casual way he introduced himself as a genius architect, he was very sure of himself. Currently, his hair looked like Beethoven’s, from his famous portrait. So it seemed that Beckentein wore a wig. Meanwhile, Foster was knitting his brow and rubbing his stomach from over the armor. I had a good guess as to what their relationship and history were like. Most likely, Beckentein spotted the walls along the mountain path and must have followed it into the mountain with no regard for anything else, while Foster struggled to hold him back.
Beckentein began telling his side of the story, which turned out to be pretty similar to my assumption. “I was on my way to Gaunago to discuss with Duke Jamil my commission to design and construct the new colosseum. We were taking the road that goes by the foot of this mountain. But when we came up to the mountain, I saw a brand-new path and an alluring row of walls. Who wouldn’t want to take a closer look? I stopped the carriage and ran over.”
“As ridiculous as that sounds, that is truly in his nature,” Foster chimed in. “Whenever his interest is piqued by a piece of architecture, he must drop everything. Today, he was just supposed to observe the construction from beyond the ropes...until that wasn’t enough. Normally, I forcibly hold him back from trespassing anywhere. For some reason, I hesitated today and he ran into the mountain before I could stop him.”
Hearing this, Rosenberg explained that Foster must have been affected by my hex on the rope. Because the people-repellent effect on the rope was driven by the emotions I had felt when I was a hermit, it didn’t physically prevent anyone from crossing its border, but instead created a sort of emotional roadblock that made people think twice about stepping over the rope.
At the foot of the mountain, Foster couldn’t pursue his master as he ran up the mountain path. On the other hand, Beckentein’s curiosity far overpowered the reservation he felt as a result of the hex. The genius architect went running up the mountain path like a horse with a carrot dangling in front of his nose, from how Foster told it.
“Is that hex so easy to break?” I asked Rosenberg. “I remember you rated it a fairly powerful curse, according to the report.”
“It is not a hex that could be broken easily. Lord Beckentein’s obsession was simply extraordinary.”
The ropes were hardly a physical barrier, so breaking through the curse was only a matter of mental fortitude. It couldn’t have been easy, but Beckentein accomplished it subconsciously.
“How did you get past the ropes?” I asked Foster.
“I could not cross them on my own. One of my men blew away the ropes with his spell.”
“You brute-forced it... At least that makes sense. That’s how you made it up the path,” I said.
“Knowing Master Perdor, I figured he would be along the path. As soon as I saw you, I felt a powerful urge that I needed to protect him at all costs. The thought consumed me. I offer my sincerest apologies for my behavior.”
“None of this would have happened if I had not trespassed. The blame lies with me.”
Both Foster and Beckentein looked genuinely sorry, directing their apologies at me, despite my physical age.
I glanced at Hudom and Eleonora—they both nodded. “In part, my curse might have affected your state of mind. I also understand how being separated from your master could send you into fight-or-flight,” I said.
The isolation curse cast on me amplified negative emotions in others when they saw me. In this case, it had amplified Foster’s desperation to protect his master. The stronger their emotion, the more susceptible they were to the curse. It was conceivable how a stranger—someone who hadn’t gotten to know me like the others here had—under these circumstances could get that riled up. I could chalk it up to a product of a bizarre situation and the effect of my curse, but I still needed to report back to Duke Jamil about this.
Once I explained that, our two guests looked at me.
“You are too kind,” Beckentein said.
“And gracious. Thank you,” Foster added.
Now that we’d caught each other up to speed and they’d given us a verbal apology, I asked them to leave congenially and expeditiously. The group had been en route to the duke’s by carriage, but Sebas had apparently offered them a lift with his Space magic, since he was going to be the one to have to make the report to the duke. Sebas and the duke were sure to go over all the details.
“Phew... I’m glad we could talk that out,” I said.
“Fortunately, they only saw the path, cottage, and the exterior of your construction sites. This would have been more complicated if they had seen your current research or watched you work with slimes,” Sebas said.
“It definitely helped that he wasn’t one of those nobles. Beckentein knew he messed up and admitted it. Of course, you can’t always give him a pass for losing his self-control like that,” Hudom added.
I’d been taken aback by his bizarre display at first, but Beckentein didn’t seem like the malicious, corrupt kind of noble. If anything, he was complimenting my construction. Besides, I had no room to talk when it came to getting lost in an obsession...even though I liked to think that I wasn’t as bad as Beckentein. He was an...“artíst” through and through. How many great artists were also known for their eccentricity?
Then, it occurred to me. Since he was in charge of designing the colosseum, he might soon find his way to Gimul. With his curious mumblings about my construction, and what could have been a sidelong glance out the window before he followed Sebas through the portal, I had a strange feeling that I would be seeing genius architect Perdor Beckentein again.