Chapter 54 - The Fourfold Security Door

"So you're saying this is Special Operations Unit headquarters?"

Gilberton asked with narrowed eyes. Galahad nodded.

"Doesn't it say so right there? Can't you read?"

Where Galahad pointed, the words "Special Operations Unit Headquarters" were written in enormous letters.

Two questions occurred to Gilberton. The first was...

"Wasn't this originally Fifth Battalion headquarters?"

"It was."

"Then why is it Special Operations Unit headquarters now?"

"Look beside it."

Beside the enormous "Special Operations Unit Headquarters" was written "Fifth Battalion." Unless you looked closely, it read as "Special Operations Unit Headquarters, Fifth Battalion."

"I mean, why are they together?"

"There was room to spare, so we decided to share. Suits us nicely. We won't have to maintain the place."

"...?"

Gilberton narrowed his eyes for a moment, then turned to his second question.

"What headquarters puts its name out there like this? It's practically inviting an attack—"

"Makes it easy to find, doesn't it? Besides, would an enemy who infiltrated this far really not have found out where our headquarters is?"

Gilberton nodded at Galahad's answer. On reflection, he had a point.

"Still, doesn't it seem a little off?"

"Security is not an issue. Don't worry."

Gilberton scratched his cheek at Galahad's assurance. They had announced their headquarters in enormous letters, yet that wasn't a problem?

His question was answered the moment they opened the door.

Through the open headquarters door, they saw a huge desk. A familiar face peered out from among the piles of documents on it.

The somewhat irritable-looking man in a dress uniform rather than armor was unmistakably the Fifth Battalion's commander.

'... Why is the Fifth Battalion's commander sitting here?'

Finding the commander stationed like a guard just inside the entrance, Gilberton looked at Galahad.

"Didn't I tell you not to worry about security?"

At Galahad's calm reply, Gilberton narrowed his eyes briefly, then nodded. With a battalion commander sitting at the entrance doing paperwork, security certainly wasn't a concern.

He made no particular effort to understand why the commander was working by the front door.

"You've arrived. The expansion is complete."

"Is it? Excellent."

Galahad settled naturally into the seat across from the Fifth Battalion's commander.

"Go upstairs ahead of me. I'll join you after speaking with the commander."

"Ah, Lumian. Show them around."

At the commander's gesture, a woman with rather sharp features approached. Gilberton cleared his throat softly and followed her.

"You were originally to use the third floor, but our commander said he didn't need the second floor and told us to give you that as well."

Gilberton nodded at the woman's oddly pointed tone. He didn't quite understand, but didn't that mean they were getting an extra floor?

"Excellent."

He tilted his head at her sharp glare.

On reaching the second floor, they found an ornate corridor. It felt more like a noble's castle than a battalion headquarters.

'The Fifth Battalion has money.'

Gilberton was inwardly impressed. As a rule, the more you kept your thoughts to yourself, the better.

"Wow! This is our headquarters?!"

Gwen gaped in amazement, and one corner of Lumian's mouth lifted.

"Then I'll start preparing dinner."

Tom, who had already unpacked, headed for the fireplace in the center of the room. In no time, he was preparing to cook.

Damian hovered behind him, drooling, while Gwen wiped the drool away. Gilberton clicked his tongue softly at the sight of them clustering around the fireplace despite having an entire spacious floor.

"We'll look around the third floor ourselves."

"Of course. Please let me know if you need anything."

Gilberton addressed Lumian, who nodded and withdrew.

'Too much space.'

He sat down a little way from the noisy trio.

"I'll help!"

"Miss Gwen, did you notice the room in the back? I saw earlier that it hadn't been fully cleaned."

"Really?"

"Yes. I'm still not very good at cleaning..."

"Honestly! Well, nothing for it!"

Gilberton glanced at Gwen as she proudly took up a broom, then drew his sword.

The sight of the clean blade brought an involuntary smile to his lips. He couldn't help smiling as he gazed at it. Even the sweet smell of food failed to make him hungry.

After admiring the sword for a while, he began wiping it with gentle care. Soon he was absorbed, all stray thoughts gone. There was only the sword. He polished it so intently that sweat beaded on his forehead.

Then he sensed someone beside him.

He turned to find Damian squatting there, staring straight at him. The boy was still as inscrutable as ever, but somehow he looked younger.

Gilberton clicked his tongue softly at Damian's sword, which was dirty again.

"Hold it like this."

"Yes."

He slowly explained how to maintain a sword. Damian followed along well, if clumsily.

The two polished their swords in silence.

* * *

"You really did it."

Mark, commander of the Fifth Battalion, held out a sheet of paper.

["I will send another messenger after the sun has risen seven times. If any gaps are found, I will rip out your spinal cords and use them to fill those gaps."]

'Rip out their spinal cords and fill the gaps...'

Galahad clicked his tongue softly at the wording. It suited the Grand Duke perfectly.

"I never imagined His Highness the Grand Duke would issue the order personally. How did you manage it?"

Mark praised him with a rare show of emotion.

"How else? I wrote him a letter."

"A letter?"

Mark repeated it incredulously. Galahad put a cigarette between his lips and nodded.

"I have a fine hand."

"A fine hand?"

Galahad smiled at his echo.

Just then, a soldier hurried through the front door.

"A letter from His Highness the Grand Duke!"

Urgency filled the soldier's face.

"Excuse me a moment."

Giving Galahad a curious look, Mark accepted the letter. His sharp eyes moved rapidly across it. It must have been short, for his gaze soon returned to Galahad.

Mark was not an expressive man. Usually, tapping his fingers on the table was the extent of it.

Now, however, unmistakable shock blazed in his eyes.

'It must say I've earned the Grand Duke's recognition.'

From Mark's reaction, Galahad could roughly guess the letter's contents. Earning the Grand Duke's recognition apparently carried considerable weight.

"Have you truly earned His Highness the Grand Duke's recognition?"

"I have."

"I see."

Mark looked back and forth between the letter and Galahad with narrowed eyes, then nodded.

"Did I mention that renovating the second and third floors cost a considerable sum?"

"Thank you."

"We are allies, after all."

Mark emphasized the word "allies."

"Quite a few members of the Black Magic Society have entered the Fifth Battalion recently. Since you agreed to handle them as our ally, Lord Galahad, I've left them alone. But they don't seem to be assigning any of them to the magic-stone deposits."

Mark got straight to the point. The Society members who had recently arrived were likely the president's people Crow had mentioned.

'People, plural...'

"How are the magic-stone deposits doing?"

"Ah, we're a little short on workers."

"I see. I'll take care of it."

Mark shook his head at Galahad's casual reply.

"Their security is even tighter than before. Even confirming this much was difficult."

"Don't worry about security. I have a good friend."

A good friend? Mark murmured the curious phrase.

A little later, Galahad made to rise. Mark spoke again as if to stop him.

"Earning the Grand Duke's recognition is an extraordinary honor. But honor in the North is a heavy burden."

"A heavy burden?"

"Yes. The North is a place where people challenge even His Highness the Grand Duke. Of course, few are that bold... But if an imperial Mage who has come to the North earns His Highness's recognition—"

"I'll have people pestering me left and right?"

Mark nodded, then corrected his wording.

"It means marriage to Adrianna, which everyone has laughed off until now, has become a more serious possibility."

Mark stared at Galahad. His eyes moved rapidly, as though he were weighing various calculations.

Galahad nodded. The northerners were already itching to tear him apart. He had expected as much.

"Challenges to duels will pour in from everywhere. Defeating the man who earned the Grand Duke's recognition would be an immense honor."

Mark spoke gravely.

"I see."

When Galahad nodded unconcernedly, Mark tapped the table.

"You must be wary of commander-level opponents."

Then Mark's shoulder moved slightly.

The movement was so swift it made no sound, but Galahad had seen that spear before. He wasn't foolish enough to fall for it twice.

'These northerners, honestly—'

Presumably, Mark wanted to make him appreciate the danger of commander-level opponents. Still, he didn't care for having a spear thrust at him in the name of a warning.

Galahad snapped his fingers.

The sharp spear shot toward him, moving at the same speed as last time.

'He can go faster.'

Mark seemed to be concealing his strength. Galahad watched him closely and assessed the situation.

'Very fast indeed.'

The spear moved too quickly for the eye to follow. The Egg of agony gave a little throb, and the magic circle on his wrist blazed.

It happened in an instant.

POP!

Small reports rang out simultaneously. An explosion erupted around Mark's neck. Though the impact shook his body, the spearpoint remained steady.

But there was more than one explosion.

The blast halfway along the spear was enough to knock it off course. Its shaft shuddered violently.

'An aura barrier.'

Galahad murmured as he watched the spear veer aside.

An aura barrier involved wrapping the body in aura to use it as a shield. While a fair number of knights could coat their swords in aura, few among them could use an aura barrier. It required an exceptional understanding of aura.

Aura could cut through anything. Used as a barrier, it was impervious to all but the most powerful magic.

'Excellent.'

Galahad smiled at Mark's rigid expression. Mark was even more skilled than he had expected—enough that there was no need for a lengthy explanation.

"Satisfied?"

He gently pushed aside the spear poised beside his neck.

"Yes."

Still stiff-faced, Mark nodded and withdrew it.

"I'd best deal with business first."

Galahad rose, brushing off his coat. His steps took him toward the door rather than upstairs.

"Oh, tell them I'll be late."

With that casual remark, he turned away. The door swung roughly open, and the cold wind that swept inside tickled Mark's face.

Mark sank into his chair as though the biting wind had pushed him down.

Recalling their exchange, he touched his neck.

It stung.

'A sting...'

He had unmistakably surrounded himself with an aura barrier, yet there was a small mark on his neck. As a vital point, his neck was where the barrier was strongest. Galahad had pierced it and left a wound.

And he hadn't used just one spell. The explosion halfway along the shaft had been strong enough to deflect Mark's spearpoint. Had that blast occurred at his neck, he would not have escaped with a mere sting.

'Perhaps I should have put myself under him.'

Murmuring softly, Mark stared at the door. Through it, he could see Galahad striding fearlessly into the pitch-black night.

There wasn't the slightest hesitation in his steps.

* * *

Crow sniffed at a curious smell. The scent of lemon was coming from somewhere.

As if the nightmares weren't enough, now there were smells too...

'... Lemon?'

Crow turned slightly. Someone sat on one side of the dark room. Long legs and an upright posture—even without seeing the face, Crow knew who it was.

CLICK!

Just then, the cigarette's ember flared a little brighter. Its orange glow illuminated the man's utterly emotionless face.

Galahad.

Desperately suppressing a scream, Crow sprang up. There was no wondering how he had entered. This was Galahad, after all.

Crow adjusted the mask and prostrated on the floor.

"You even sleep in it."

"... Yes. It's comfortable."

"A good habit."

At Galahad's calm voice, Crow bowed deeply.

A chill ran down Crow's back at the realization that death could have come unnoticed during sleep. But this was Galahad. He was not someone one could escape.

"As you ordered, I sent the demon-beast tamer's magic circle to the Society's president through Corton. In response, the president sent Helcarton."

"Helcarton?"

"Yes. He's the president's trusted subordinate, and skilled enough to be a candidate for the next president."

"I see."

Crow had spoken gravely, but Galahad's reply was brief. Silence lingered for a moment. Crow waited quietly, face pressed to the floor.

"Helcarton must know where the president is."

"Yes, he should. But the man's like a corpse—"

"Don't worry. Persuasion is my specialty."

For the moment, Crow nodded. No one knew better than Crow just how painful Galahad's persuasion could be.

Still, something about Helcarton was strange. Pale and reeking of filth, he looked like a corpse freshly dug out of a grave. To Crow, he was a true Black Mage.

A madman who would stop at nothing to reach greater heights.

How did Galahad intend to extract information from someone like that? Crow chose not to voice the question.

There was another problem.

"He brought the Advisory Council with him."

"The Advisory Council?"

"Yes. A force made up of fighters with executive-level abilities. They also have high-grade or better staves and have received the choosing. They're quite dangerous."

Crow spoke earnestly. Galahad's talent for taking down Mages was well known, but these opponents would be no pushovers. Unlike before, they weren't letting their guard down. The string of failures had made them extremely wary.

Crow explained all this, but...

"Hmm. I hear they're short on workers. Perfect timing."

"... Pardon?"

The non sequitur made Crow blurt out a question.

"If they're skilled, they should be good at mining mana stones too. Wouldn't you agree?"

Crow nodded for the moment.

"Now, where are they?"

Galahad casually stubbed out his spent cigarette as he asked, as though he intended to go capture them immediately.

"... Pardon?"

"Helcarton and the Advisory Council."

Galahad's calm voice sent Crow's thoughts into a tangle. Was he going to march out and capture them just like that? Right now?

Crow looked up, and his eyes made it clear. To Galahad, this was nothing special.

"Yes, but after the Black Magic Society's recent string of losses, security is extremely tight. They're wary even of me, an executive."

"Are they?"

At the look in Galahad's eyes, Crow hurriedly shook their head.

"I did everything I could, but that bastard Corton suddenly betrayed me—"

Crow vented in frustration. What went on in Corton's head was incomprehensible. His betrayal had come at an entirely unexpected moment, simply because he wanted a larger share of the credit for the demon-beast tamer's magic circle.

Crow had never imagined he would betray someone out of the blue for such a simple reason and had been unable to respond. As a result, Corton had gained Helcarton's complete trust, while Crow could no longer even enter the branch.

That had also derailed the plan to lure the Society's president to the Demon Realm training camp.

"Really? That's Corton for you."

Crow raised their head at his curious tone.

Galahad was smiling.

* * *

"It was genuine."

Helcarton marveled at the demon-beast tamer's magic circle in his hand.

The fall of the Seventh Battalion branch was a serious problem for the Black Magic Society as well. The one saving grace was that the sacred ground remained open.

He didn't know what she was thinking, but Adrianna had left without destroying it. The only force around the sacred ground now was the Seventh Battalion—a Seventh Battalion stripped of every officer at company commander level.

There was still a chance.

'It really is the demon-beast tamer's magic circle.'

With this circle, retaking the Seventh Battalion would be trivial. The cautious president had not sent Helcarton for nothing. This was an opportunity they couldn't pass up even if they knew it was a trap.

At any other time, they would have played it safe. But lately, the number of organizations under Dawn was growing rapidly. Once a leading contender, the Black Magic Society had been pushed back by its string of failures.

The Black Magic Society had fled all the way to the North to escape that wretched organization. Now there was nowhere left to run. They had to settle matters here.

Even so, they needed to exercise every possible caution. The Fifth Battalion branch was ideal for that. Not only did it boast the greatest magic-stone output, it also possessed the fourfold security door—the Black Magic Society's pride and the pinnacle of its security.

'The fourfold security door...'

Unless someone opened it for you, entering was absolutely impossible. Here, they could safely make their plans.

A question suddenly occurred to Helcarton.

"Where did that fellow go?"

"Who do you mean?"

"The dimwit. Corton, was it?"

"Ah, I'll look for him."

Helcarton considered it briefly, then shook his head.

"Never mind. He's probably off scheming to grab more credit somewhere. Focus on the mission."

The man was so utterly useless that it was a wonder he had obtained the demon-beast tamer's magic circle at all.

Even sparing him a thought was a waste of time.

* * *