[271] Teraze's Bloodline (4)
Even past midnight, Orcamp couldn't leave his study. Sitting at his desk with both hands over his face, he replayed the conversations from the dinner table sentence by sentence.
Had he misspoken? Had he provoked Teraje? What variables might his words set in motion?
Ruminating over words day after day was exhausting and draining.
But there could be no mistakes.
Until he held a card capable of standing against the Empress, he had to be careful—then more careful.
A voice came from behind Orcamp.
"Did you call, Your Majesty?"
A man in his mid-thirties stepped through the veil of darkness. His narrow eyes seemed to be perpetually smiling, and seven piercings traced the curve of his ear—an androgynous figure.
Morrigan Arius.
Known to the world as a tomb-robber, he was an unlocker who had activated the Immortal Function.
One of the Seven Mages of the Black Line, he had been recruited to the Kazra Kingdom five years ago for his skill with Scale magic.
Unlike the Red Line, the Black Line had no guild or formal ranks.
They sometimes formed groups like the Seven Mages, but many—like Arius—operated alone. Most were criminals hunted by nations.
Some troublemakers from the Red Line slipped into the Black Line, but that side was full of mass murderers unfit to be compared. Once a name spread, bounties started in the hundreds of millions, and there were even Red Line guilds devoted solely to hunting Black Line mages.
Countries entangled with the Black Line drew public condemnation, but given Kazra's political situation there was little choice.
Even after ending the civil war through a marriage to Teraje, many unstable elements remained. Neighboring powers wouldn't let Kazra grow unchecked, and internally he still had to watch for the Teraje faction.
Orcamp turning to the Black Line—since foreign pressure made strengthening the Red Line difficult—was a natural step.
"How did the orders go?"
"Handled without incident. Most of the sensitive material was siphoned off. I doubt Teraje noticed."
"I see."
"It's time to move to the next stage. From what I observed, he's a fine piece of timber. Is he really Your Majesty's son?"
Orcamp felt a surge of self-loathing and exhaled. He had been ruthless enough to abandon his son once; now that a way to use him had appeared, bringing him back felt absurd.
Arius smiled like a snake and offered comfort.
"Do not worry. We're not killing him, after all. There shouldn't be any problems."
"That child… said he would leave the palace."
Arius's thin eyes opened slightly. A sharp glint flashed in his pupils like starlight.
"I see. Unlockers don't care much for worldly matters. They're the sort who hunt oddities, curiosities—things you can't hold."
"Like you?"
Arius's moniker was Tomb-Raider, but what he plundered wasn't gold or gems.
"Something like that. In any case, nothing changes. Shirone isn't what matters—Ataraxia is."
Orcamp's face twisted. Why that child? No—this was an opportunity. If he let it slip now, he would never free himself from Teraje's grip.
He could not forget the humiliation he'd suffered after marrying Teraje. Nightmares woke him soaked in cold sweat.
She had crushed his mind to the bottom, then left like the wind after planting the two anchors, Zion and Woorin.
Teraje planned to swallow the world.
One of the core operations toward that was the multinational army she organized to oppose Heaven—the Valkyries.
With twenty-four nations participating, the force could raze a small kingdom in three days, and Teraje was their head.
Kazra's rapid growth over the past twenty years owed much to a share of the Valkyries' spoils.
But Orcamp did not believe the kingdom's prosperity would last. Zion was rising. And the crown sat with Teraje, not him.
In time, Teraje would swallow Kazra—just as she had once swallowed him.
Then a report arrived. A student at the Tormia Kingdom's School of Magic had used a Heaven-granted power.
They investigated at once, and the shocking truth emerged. The child was Shirone—the son Orcamp had cast away eighteen years ago.
Orcamp felt as if heaven itself were aiding him.
Even within the Valkyries—an army opposed to Heaven—those who could wield Heaven's power were exceedingly rare.
Experts said Ataraxia was an archangel's ability, and by tier it belonged to Triple S.
There had never been—past or present—anyone in the Valkyries who wielded a Triple S power.
And Shirone was of his blood. If he could make Shirone Crown Prince, they would have a weapon to counter Teraje.
Not only would their standing in the Valkyries be strengthened, there might even be a chance—however slim—of ousting Teraje's bloodline from the Kazra palace.
At last resolved, Orcamp asked, "Can you replicate Ataraxia?"
"It's my specialty. Leave it to me."
"I don't want that child harmed. I want him to live the life he chooses."
Of course it was a lie.
The only reason he had summoned Shirone was to use Ataraxia to check Teraje.
In that light, the existence of Orcamp's bloodline was a dangerous element that could draw Teraje's wrath.
The best outcome now was to copy Ataraxia's information and send Shirone back. In truth, had he never called him, he wouldn't have to watch Teraje's reaction at all.
Upon hearing of Ataraxia, Arius had once infiltrated Alpheas School of Magic. Whether the Red Line had someone clever enough or not, the black boxes had already been destroyed.
In the end, Shirone was the only person in the world who could wield Ataraxia, so they were forced to call him to the palace as a second-best option.
"We're not taking it away—just saying it's useful, so let's share it. A son can do that for his father, can't he?"
"If Shirone refuses succession, I won't force him. But we need this, absolutely."
Arius nodded, confident.
"Do not worry. Ensure I can meet Shirone tomorrow during the paternity test."
Orcamp tilted his head in puzzlement.
"A paternity test? All the ministers will be present. It's to verify the royal bloodline, so there won't be any tricks."
"Of course. I don't intend to interfere. Still… it's better to be certain, haha. But there will be a chance before the test, won't there?"
Orcamp finally understood and nodded.
The test would be under strict control, but before it began they could quietly approach Shirone.
"I'll trust you."
"Rest easy. It will go well."
With that, Arius dispersed like smoke—a trademark of those who wielded Scale magic.
The study door opened and Eliza entered. She looked pale, as if she had overheard the hush of conversation.
"What is it at this hour?"
Eliza clasped her hands and begged.
"Darling, he's our son. I don't know what's happening, but please don't put him in danger."
"You needn't worry. It's just… a political matter. Don't fret—go home."
"How can I not worry? Don't you feel any guilt? Stop hurting that child's heart!"
Orcamp's expression hardened into something fierce.
"Guilt? If we hadn't abandoned the child, Kazra would have become a vassal of the Yakma. I would have had my head cut off, and you would have been the plaything of foreign officials. Did you truly want that?"
Eliza went pale and shivered. She knew better than anyone what became of a royal family defeated in war.
She never wanted to experience that.
Without another word, Eliza returned to her room. She would continue to enjoy the life she now had. She would not surrender the queenly position that let her obtain whatever she desired.
@
A village fourteen kilometers from Kazra Palace.
Armin of the Radiant Eye, the Eternal Contemplator, was staying in a small village called Toshka on a special mission.
His work as a painter still continued. Though he had lost his sight, the radiant eye that filled his eye socket let him see the world's underside.
Charcoal traced rough lines across the paper like his frayed emotions.
Today his hand displeased him.
A piece always carried its creator's spirit; the nearer the painting came to completion, the more his unease stood out.
"Phew."
Armin stopped and set down the charcoal.
By the nature of his work he received information from across the world and let much of it pass by. To ordinary eyes the world might seem calm, but beneath the surface countless turbulent currents churned.
'Shirone…'
Lately, Shirone was the name most talked about among those active in the Abyss.
When Armin first read Shirone's article in Spirit magazine, he had been pleased.
He had felt then that the remarkable talent he'd sensed was finally coming into the light.
But the moment he understood the magic circle shown in the article, he'd been shocked.
He didn't know how Shirone had come to possess an archangel's power, but it was an incident worthy of the attention of heads of state.
And yesterday he'd learned Shirone had been invited to the Kazra Kingdom—said to be the son Orcamp had abandoned eighteen years ago.
He couldn't confirm the rumor, but if true, Kazra had made an excellent choice.
For Shirone, however, it was dangerous.
Kazra lay under the influence of Teraje—the Valkyries' leader and Empress of the Kashan Empire.
For an unripe mage like Shirone, it would be a current far too vast to be swept into.
"What are you doing? You said you'd be busy today, but you're not painting."
Keira came in carrying side dishes she'd bought at the market.
Officially his wife but in practice his monitor, she frowned at Armin lost in thought.
"Oh? Yeah."
Armin snapped out of his reverie and picked up the charcoal, but Keira's sharp eyes missed nothing.
Even if his awareness slipped, she too worked in the Abyss and could guess what he was thinking.
"..."
Keira didn't even set down the basket; she waited for Armin to speak frankly.
But he merely stirred the charcoal as if nothing were wrong.
That he kept his eyes bandaged so she couldn't read his thoughts was the second most irritating thing about him when she had to deal with him.
"You're not imagining something reckless, are you?"
Armin's hand froze. He frowned and shot back, "Reckless?"
"Shirone. Of course we should observe, but this isn't our place to interfere. Upper command ordered us to wait until Kazra reaches its own conclusion."
Armin tossed the charcoal aside and stood.
"Kazra is entangled with Black Line mages. You know better than anyone what their strength is. Shirone matters to us too. By the time they reach a conclusion it could already be too late."
"That's precisely why we mustn't. Upper command strictly controls clashes with the Black Line. This time, leave it to the Red Line."
"You can't think about it so simply. The reason they brought Shirone in is—"
Keira's gaze went cold.
"Armin, I'll say it once more: don't be rash. Consider this an order from a superior, not a comrade. If you disobey, I'll have no choice but to invoke the Agreement Oath."
Armin pressed his lips shut and glared at her. If he defied her, the people he loved would be harmed. Of course Shina was on that list.
When the radiant eye hidden beneath his bandage emitted a cold light, Keira felt the hairs on her arms rise.
But she could not yield.
They had avoided friction with the Black Line for forty years. Now breaking the balance of power would only bring greater catastrophe.
Armin sighed and walked to the window to survey the view. Winter was approaching, but the sun still shone with fierce power.
"…So you'll handle it this way?"
"There's no choice. It's my duty."
Keira forced a calm tone. As a mage, she didn't want to torment someone who had reached the pinnacle of time magic.
But the Agreement Oath from upper command was binding. It wasn't her decision to make, and she had to use any means to persuade Armin. It was all for him.
Armin snapped coldly, "So your job is to bind me, restrain me, and confine me?"
Keira looked a little aggrieved.
"Exactly! If you're angry, curse at me. I'll take any insult. But until the order is given, you cannot go anywhere. That's my duty."
Armin's breathing grew heavy.
Feeling like a beast was growling, Keira hastily brought her right hand to her chest.
In a one-on-one clash she might be slightly disadvantaged. But she had a trump: the Agreement Oath in her right hand could be activated at any time.
"Phew, you're really too much."
Armin let out a long sigh and ended the draining standoff. He walked to the table and gently stroked the flowers in the vase.
Flowers cut and trapped in glass—perhaps his own situation was no different.
"Keira…"
His voice was low and rueful. Keira softened at the sound and stepped closer.
"Armin, I'm sorry. But—"
"No one can bind me."
At that moment Armin turned to Keira and spoke. Then he swung his arm and sent the vase crashing to the floor.
Keira's gaze reflexively followed the vase.
'Oh no!'
For a moment she lost sight of Armin. By the time she realized it, the time field had already activated.
The vase, falling in reverse, froze in midair, and Keira, unable to turn her eyes back, stiffened like a doll.
In the frozen time, Armin's figure was nowhere to be seen.
(End of Volume 11)