"Make sure she gets to her room," Alwyn told a passing servant.
The young woman nodded and brought the drunken Aliza down the hall. Finally, Alwyn could start his 'work.'
Despite what it may seem, considering the… strained relationship between the tower and the king, wizards are, by all means, servants of the people—and by extension, the state. Though this may seem like a contradiction, it is actually directly correlated. It's the 'payment' that all wizards must pay—to exist. Wizards, by a near-ancient royal decree, all have a yearly quota of public deeds. Associated with the tower or not, if you're registered, you must fulfill this quota.
But that was only half the reason for Alwyn helping the Duke. He had a debt to pay, after all… one that, after spontaneously recruiting two apprentices, would no longer be payed simply by the no-longer-private education given to Marielle. Typically, the wizard would have no qualms. Even now, he accepted with a carefree attitude.
That's only to keep appearances, though… in truth, Alwyn was quite worried. His task was no small one, and his mana reserves… were far below standard.
Thanks to… his current occupation, his core was already far emptier than usual. Then, after casting the non-stop and extremely powerful protection spell on Aliza, he was reduced to the capabilities of a measly red-core. Not that he was anything to scoff at—in fact, there had been many great wizards with red cores.
It was as The Prince had said—it wasn't the size of the core, but the wizard using it.
The only problem was, Alwyn wasn't used to having such a small amount of mana at his disposal!
Sure, he'd been nearly exhausted before (which was, itself, an incredibly rare occurrence), but never had he experienced having so little mana available as his normal. And, to make it all worse, the Duke had bestowed upon him a job that would certainly require the wizard to, at least, break a sweat.
'That pathetic old man… ask your damn knights to do this crap! Oh, that's right—that glorified guard is the only one you've got left. Seriously, what the hell's happening… Corvailles has only got a single knight?'
The question was only rhetorical. He knew very well why the Duke was so low on manpower.
The wizard glanced at a board covered in paper. He stopped, examining the sheer amount of missing persons.
'Wow! You'd think a damn plague has hit—yet, everyone's enjoying the festival as if nothing's wrong. Gives me the damn creeps! Yuck!'
Hopefully, he'd be finding an answer to this eerie mystery soon. No, he and the Duke were actually hoping he wouldn't. Because, if he did, the implications would be enormously bad.
Right now, Alwyn was heading over, as the Duke's ambassador, to the Drowsen Estate. Malachai Drowsen was both an influential figure in the city and the most prominent candidate of the next electoral race. Not to mention, he was the ward and later adopted son of Duke Saivelle. Now estranged, though.
'The politics of this place is still headache-inducing. An elected duke isn't a duke at all. Why not call it what it is? Right, appearances. Appearances, appearances, a scourge of the world.'
Alwyn had yet to meet him in person, though he had heard much about the man previously. It was only recently that the adopted father and son separated from each other—even during Alwyn's last visit to Corvailles, all had seemed fine.
On the outside, that is.
Alwyn wasn't privy to the exact reason for their estrangement, but he understood well enough. Basically, Malachai was, supposedly, a complete psycho. As a wizard, he wasn't inclined to take such statements as fact. Not immediately, at least.
But, it didn't matter if Malachai was or wasn't a crazy person. To have the duke believe such a thing was proof enough that their relationship had deeply soured.
Deep in thought, Alwyn nearly fell into the canal.
'Oho, I nearly went for a swim! Wait, what is that?'
He squinted, straining his eyes to see through both the darkness of the night and the murky water. There, in the depth of the canal, was a seemingly humanoid shape.
'Am I seeing things?'
He looked around to see if anyone was nearby. Luckily, there seemed to be a large event near the ocean—plus, he was nearly at the noble's district—so there were very very passersby. And so, he waved his staff and watched as the water rippled.
It separated, both sides pulling back and carving a strip of dry land across the middle of the canal. Alwyn dropped down and approached what he had seen. Upon closer inspection, it was most definitely and without any uncertainty not a human body, dead or alive.
It was a mannequin.
'Huh. Interesting."
On its wooden body, it wore a cloak darkened with moisture. The hood, which draped over the false head, had an unfamiliar sigil. Other than that, the cloak was a uniformly dark blue. Deciding that the unknown source of the sigil was suspicious enough, he tore away the fabric of the hood and placed it in his pocket.
'Someone ought to recognize it. It could be nothing… but better safe than sorry!'
The wizard was quite methodical in his work, and proud, too. It wasn't like he had much of a personal life, either… and, so, like most other men without a personal life, all he had to care for was his job!
He climbed out of the canal and released the spell holding the water back, allowing the canal to resume its natural flow.
"Hey. What were ya doing in the canal, ya idiot?"
He looked up and saw a young boy with auburn hair and a thin scar that split his eyebrow. The boy was sitting atop a wooden crate, idly watching. Or, he was until he called out to Alwyn.
The wizard sighed. "It's not nice to call people you don't know idiots, you know that? And what's anything I'm doing have to do with you? Now, shoo, little boy."
"Surely you've got something better ta do, ya old man. Why is ya rummaging in the canal for?"
"I was thinking the same about you… shouldn't you be at the festival doing... uh, kid stuff?"
"Oh, I'm too poor ta afford half da stuff out there. I'm too poor ta afford wasting time, too."
"So what're you bugging me for? I'm certainly not gonna pay you."
"Naw, but yer stepping in my turf, ya here? This part of the canal's mine. So go away."
"Really? It's yours? And what do you do with it?"
"I fish, duh."
"What're you fishing for?"
"Fish, duh. And other things, I guess… boots, wood, coins. Sometimes I go diving and whatever. Anything's worth something ta someone?"
"…That's right! How clever... well, see ya. I'll leave you be now, kid!"
Alwyn gave a simple wave before returning to his path. Lord Drowsen was waiting, after all.