“My bad,” he muttered.
“What happened?” Hawk asked.
“I don’t wanna say it.”
“Dude...”
As Hawk frowned, Sigil gave a sigh of resignation.
“It’s about the miracle cure for Iz,” Sigil muttered.
“What about it? Why’d the Lightless heir...” Hawk started.
“Who knows. Just gave me a warning.” Another sigh escaped Sigil’s lips as he walked into the ship. “Looks like I gotta fact-check with Gillan.”
The Scarlet Wind exchanged a glance at this cryptic remark.
“Let’s head out,” Sigil ordered. “We’re headed north, toward Stelia.”
Gillan was the merchant who had brought this lucrative talk of a miracle cure to the Scarlet Wind. Sigil didn’t wholly believe Lofus’s words and approached it with a fair bit of skepticism, but if the noble’s claims were true and there really was no cure, Iz would have to suffer until her dying breath. Sigil couldn’t just accept that fate.
He was, however, keenly aware that Lofus really had no reason or incentive to lie. And so, Sigil decided to speak with Gillan to get the facts straight.
Ifrit’s engine roared loudly, spewing crimson flames as it headed for its destination. The airship reached its top speed in a flash, tracing a red arc in the night sky as it headed north. Lilka’s face was glued to the window as she stared at the rocky mountain of Roguebert that quickly faded into the distance.
“Wyvern...” she muttered quietly, her eyes dull. “Maybe I can meet you over there...Mr. Lofus.”
Her faint words vanished into the air, against the roar of the ship’s engine.
✶✶✶
Lofus descended upon the rocky mountain near Roguebert. His Dark Hand allowed him to lower himself smoothly, and when he was only several meters away from ground, he scattered his spell and jumped down. Only the wyvern stood there as though waiting for someone, and perhaps the Roguebert citizens who hindered the subjugation team had retired to their homes for the night.
Fol’s face flashed across Lofus’s mind, but he shook his mind free of her. Airship Ifrit had been masked by an invisibility barrier; an outsider would merely have seen Lofus suddenly appear and fly down. The wyvern, though shocked by the boy seemingly materializing out of thin air, gave a small cry and approached him.
At first, Lofus jolted in response. He was reminded of his initial fight against the beast and how it tried to devour him alive, but when he peered into the wyvern’s eyes, it harbored no hostility. It rubbed its snout against Lofus’s coat, much as it had once done to Warm as a symbol of affection. The wyvern continued to roar meekly and weakly. Its actions toward Lofus were closer to cries for help than signs of affection. Lofus immediately caught on to the beast needing his aid, and he knit his brow while staring at the beast.
“What happened?” he asked. “Why are you here alone? Where’s Warm?”
But of course, no proper response came. Instead, it tugged at the sleeve of Lofus’s coat as though to encourage the boy to get on its back, and the beast promptly lowered its posture as well.
“Are you telling me to head to Stelia?” he asked.
The wyvern gave a small cry of agreement, while Lofus gazed up at the night sky and let out a tired sigh. He didn’t mind rejecting the beast’s request, but he had to admit that he was a bit curious about Warm’s circumstances. I recall that he wasn’t present at House Galleon’s party... Lofus thought. What if it wasn’t that he didn’t come, but couldn’t for some reason?
“That reminds me...” Lofus muttered.
The whirlwind of recent events had his mind occupied, but he recalled that three months ago, Warm firmly declared that he would condemn Gillan of Stelia for his participation in the slave trade. Gillan seemed to harbor a grudge that his slave, Norn, was forcibly ripped from his hands due in no small part to Lofus’s spells. This pudgy merchant would later send a letter of complaint to House Lightless for the boy’s actions.
Gillan claimed that Lofus, the eldest son of House Lightless, had suddenly attacked his home in the middle of the night for no discernible reason. Of course, the reality was that he was clearly irate that his slave had been stolen. Lofus hadn’t left behind any evidence that would identify him as the heir of House Lightless, yet Gillan was able to immediately pinpoint the culprit. This implied that the crest that Lofus had given to Warm worked against him.
“I see now...” Lofus muttered, astutely connecting the dots. “Some condemnation you did, Warm... Did you screw up?”
Gillan, though not a noble, wielded a fair bit of power and authority over Stelia. In fact, he had enough influence to cover up any of his misdeeds without much issue.
“Hmph, he’s just a lowly commoner without mana who managed to amass some wealth,” Lofus said. “Looks like he let it all get to his head, the foolish pig. I should’ve killed him.”
The noble swiftly jumped onto the wyvern’s back.
“And Warm isn’t blameless either...” he muttered. “A man of his caliber should’ve easily taken care of it.”
If the wyvern was here alone, it implied that Warm was in a situation where he couldn’t move or flee.
“He hasn’t lost to a mere merchant, has he?” Lofus wondered.
A sharp cry from the wyvern drowned out his voice as the beast took to the skies, flapping its wings to head north. Thanks to Lofus’s mana, the beast was able to cut through the air with incredible speed. And so, two streaks of light headed straight for Stelia, so fast that a normal human could barely see them.
✶✶✶
In the frosty underground prison of Stelia, Warm could barely move an inch with the thick chains that bound him. A man with long, flaming red hair dressed in a scarlet coat with a white stoat fur scarf around his neck stood in front of the shackled Warm. In the man’s hand was a fine blade, one engraved with the insignia of the royal family.
Every year, the kingdom hosted an annual swordsmanship contest called the Sacred Sword Festival, and the man before Warm was this year’s winner, allowed to hold the title of Sacred Sword—Eric Idia Stelia, the second-eldest son of Stelia’s lord. His red hair gave him the sobriquet “Crimson Sacred Sword,” and he was widely renowned for his mastery of the blade.
“Have you cooled your head, Warm?” Eric called out in a friendly manner. “It’s not right for a man to be stubborn for so long. Here, I’ve got you a little present. I ran into a girl selling flowers on the way here. The snow hasn’t melted yet, but it seems flowers are already blooming. They’re brave and strong, aren’t they? These flowers remind me of the soldiers of my fief.”
Warm didn’t respond as Eric took out a yellow lily from his pocket and showed it to the boy. As silence filled the room, Eric shrugged.
“Personally, I don’t relish seeing a man of your caliber rotting away here,” he said. “I’d like for you to return to my side soon.”
Eric served as the captain of the knights in the Stelia fief. Warm, though only twelve, had managed to become a knight apprentice under Eric; in fact, Warm had learned how to fight thanks to none other than the knight captain. Eric served as Warm’s boss and master, but the boy only glared at the man.