Chapter 69 - Sensitive Gwen

"Damian has disappeared."

At Gilberton's urgent report, Galahad fingered the knife he had tucked into his pocket.

"He hasn't gone far yet."

"... Pardon?"

"With those Demons playing noblemen after Damian, did you think I wouldn't take precautions?"

Relief spread across Gilberton's face.

Galahad gripped the knife and stirred his mana. Despite his mana exhaustion, it moved obediently.

The Egg of agony throbbed twice, claiming the credit.

Tracking magic was basic training for an agent. Casting it, however, required two objects engraved with magic circles beforehand: one for the target and one for the caster.

The target's object had to be something they were unlikely to part with. Damian's fork, for instance.

'A little farther away now. Are they moving?'

Galahad tapped the knife. Those Demons calling themselves Proxel were the likely culprits. He had expected them to act, but not to be bold enough to try something inside the Grand Duke's castle.

'I can make good use of this.'

He could leverage it for a hefty price from the Grand Duke.

Of course, Damian was the immediate priority.

"When did he disappear?"

"Apparently, while Gwen stepped away for a moment."

"Did you feed him properly?"

"Yes, I made certain of it. Damian—"

"Calm down. Damian won't be in danger."

Those Proxel fellows valued Damian. Whatever they were plotting, he was in no immediate danger.

Galahad intended to let them get a little deeper in. To catch vermin, you had to find their nest.

Still, these were cautious creatures who operated alongside the gourmets. There was no telling what traps they had laid, so he needed a foolproof countermeasure.

"This is a crisis."

"Pardon?"

Galahad's lips curled at Gilberton's bewildered response.

"We'll need the rookie."

Gilberton narrowed his eyes.

"That fellow's back?"

Galahad nodded, studying him.

Gilberton was a typical northern knight. His convictions were as firm as he was stupid. He was a man like a crude cleaver.

If a fine knight like Gilberton could... Galahad firmly suppressed his excitement.

"What do you think of the Demon King?"

Gilberton's face immediately twisted into a scowl.

"What? What kind of bullshit is that, sir? Demons don't have a king."

There was even a strange displeasure in his voice.

"I see."

Galahad nodded and put a cigarette between his lips.

Nothing had changed.

"But taking this long to come back... Isn't our rookie getting a bit too lax?"

Gilberton's expression changed again.

"Indeed. Make sure you instill some discipline."

"Leave it to me."

"Good. I'm counting on you."

Galahad chuckled.

* * *

'Ah... That was a mistake.'

Adrianna let out a quiet breath.

Flustered by how close Galahad had come, she had pushed him away.

["Aaaaargh! You cursed bitch!"]

The scream echoed inside her head.

It was true. Adrianna's nature was a curse—a vicious curse that inflicted horrific pain on anyone she touched and could even kill them.

All she could do was turn that curse against Demons.

That much had always been certain, and yet...

'Why on earth does that man—'

Adrianna frowned.

Galahad was different from everyone she had ever met. Even as he screamed, he refused to release her hand. Instead, he held it more firmly.

He was utterly incomprehensible.

Adrianna was flustered. She knew he had no regard for personal distance, but this time he had come too close.

Truly too close.

Startled, she had used her strength. Once the awkward heat subsided and she thought it over, she realized she had overreacted.

'I need to apologize.'

Adrianna murmured softly and inspected the basket beside her. It held six canteens of Demon blood.

'I'll give him these when I apologize.'

She exhaled again. The thought of apologizing to Galahad made her head spin.

She recalled the announcement of a betrothal ceremony in three months.

Galahad had taken it for granted, but to Adrianna, a betrothal ceremony was no trivial matter. No, it did not suit her.

Her place was on the front lines. The only beings she could touch were Demons, and...

'I can't let him sweep me along again.'

Her gaze steadied.

'I need a plan.'

To avoid being swept along by the unpredictable Galahad, she needed a solid plan.

'First, Commander Galahad is staying in the outer castle. I'll go there... I'll give him the canteens and emphasize keeping our distance.'

Adrianna earnestly devised a plan for her apology and checked it over several times.

'There.'

It was a perfect apology plan, with no chance of being swept along.

She gathered the canteens and headed for the door.

Hand him the canteens, apologize, offer a brief farewell, and turn away.

Reviewing the plan, she opened the door—and froze in that very position.

"Ah, perfect timing. Here, put this on now. We're in a hurry."

She had not accounted for Galahad standing right outside her door, holding out a crude suit of armor.

"... Pardon?"

Another foolish reply escaped her.

"One of our members has been kidnapped, and the culprits seem to be Demons. They call themselves House Proxel and pretend to be nobles. I need your help. Hurry and put it on."

"But—"

"Ah, why not ask His Highness the Grand Duke for support? I already did. He told me to take you."

"When—"

"Over our meal earlier, I requested the right to deploy you. My pretext was the betrothal ceremony in three months."

"But why the armor—"

"Ah, I got it from the supply depot. Why do you have to play the rookie? You're too famous. Everyone will flee if they see us together. Now, any remaining problems?"

Adrianna's lips moved soundlessly. Infuriatingly, there was nothing she could object to.

"Come now, hurry and put it on. Here's a sword. It's a little heavier than yours, but the same size."

SLAM

'...?'

Adrianna looked from the closed door to the stupid-looking helmet and armor that had somehow ended up in her hands.

He had done it again.

* * *

"The commander said Damian would be fine. Hmm..."

Gilberton's muttering brought Tom a little relief.

His heart had sunk when Damian suddenly disappeared. Gwen had run out crying, and Gilberton had gone to Galahad. Tom had stayed behind to pack their belongings, doing what he could.

His worries had not eased, but Galahad's assurance offered some comfort.

Tom checked the wagon's cargo. Their newly issued wagon was incomparably larger and neater than the old one. The horses harnessed to it were in superb condition, too.

It really drove home that the Special Operations Unit had earned recognition.

He checked the supplies again and fed the horses.

Gwen returned a little later, her eyes brimming with tears. That was much like her usual self. Gwen cried easily.

The problem was...

'Why is she on fire...? Wait, there's ice too—'

Flames blazed on Gwen's left shoulder, while ice cascaded from her right. Spectacular did not begin to describe it.

The question was why on earth she was crying like that.

She had seemed rather quiet lately, but Damian's disappearance appeared to have affected her deeply.

'Gwen is especially fond of children.'

Tom turned his head slightly.

When Galahad returned a little later, a familiar figure stood beside him.

'... Lady Adrianna?'

The helmet and armor were different, but the large, bulky impression was the same. There was something oddly naive and foolish about the figure.

Even so, armor could not conceal that nobility.

'No—'

Tom urgently looked at Gilberton, who sprang to his feet.

He screamed inwardly, but sadly, Gilberton could not hear him.

"Rookie! What on earth were you doing to show up this late? How can you be so slow? What am I going to do with you?"

Gilberton immediately committed an atrocity.

It was his own rough way of welcoming someone, but that someone was Adrianna, the hero of the North.

What did he think he was doing, saying such dreadful things?

"Are the preparations finished?"

Galahad addressed Tom then. He looked oddly pleased.

"Yes, we're ready to leave at once."

"Excellent. Reliable as ever, Tom. Let's go."

"D-Damian...!"

Gwen interrupted. Galahad gave a quiet exclamation of admiration at her spectacular shoulders.

"My, Gwen. Splendid."

"Damian's disappeared! It's my fault! I got distracted by the betting!"

"Indeed, it is your fault."

Galahad nodded lightly.

Tears streamed from Gwen's eyes. The flames grew stronger, and ice tumbled down. Galahad's lips lifted slightly.

"Everyone makes mistakes."

He casually brushed off her shoulders. At his touch, the blazing fire and ice vanished.

Gwen looked up at him. She was so short and Galahad so tall that she had to crane her neck.

Looking at her, he spoke earnestly.

"What matters is correcting your mistakes and not repeating them."

His voice could not have been more serious.

"... Can we find Damian?"

"Of course. Though I'll need a little help from you."

"I'll do it!"

"Good. Let's be off, then."

At Galahad's command, Tom hurried into the wagon.

Or tried to.

Galahad stopped him as he was climbing aboard.

"Only Gwen goes inside."

He entered the wagon with Gwen alone.

Tom abruptly found himself seated between Gilberton and Adrianna. Sitting right beside Adrianna... He could scarcely breathe.

"Rookie, what on earth were you doing that took so long? And if you're going somewhere, you should at least tell me before you leave."

Every word out of Gilberton's mouth seemed to shave a chunk off Tom's lifespan.

Then a small hole broke through the wagon wall. Tom gave a startled squeak.

What had pierced the wall was a table knife. It was bent slightly, as though indicating a direction.

"Is this the direction?"

"That question must have come from Sir Gilberton."

"You could just say yes..."

Gilberton grumbled under his breath.

* * *

"Gwen, you have vast mana reserves. Exceptionally vast. I didn't mistake you for a Mage at first for no reason."

"Huh?"

Gwen's eyes widened at Galahad's unexpected praise.

"You have a gift for imitating magic without understanding it. That's closer to an authority than a talent. Ah, forget you heard that last part."

Galahad snapped his fingers.

"These duels convinced me. You have a weakness for spectacular magic. When you see beautiful magic, you copy it regardless of its tier. Of course, casting it consciously would require tremendous effort..."

Galahad studied the tearful Gwen.

Just now, she had worn his magic and Bunch's magic on her shoulders. Both were high-tier spells. Using them simultaneously exceeded her usual abilities.

He considered the cause.

'It must be Damian.'

Damian's disappearance had clearly affected Gwen. She imitated magic because its beauty captivated her, too.

Both behaviors were rooted in emotion.

'Gwen is influenced by her emotions.'

Normally, a Mage had to remain detached from emotion. People said Mages needed cool heads for a reason.

Yet here was a Mage who cast magic through emotion.

'Fascinating.'

If her emotions affected her magic, he simply needed to provoke them.

Galahad lightly tapped the knife.

"I placed tracking magic on Damian's fork. As long as he stays within range, I can estimate his direction."

"Really?! Oh, thank goodness!"

"But my mana is unstable after suffering mana exhaustion."

"What?"

"The range is shorter than usual. And they're moving faster than I expected... Hmm, this is troubling."

It was not a lie. Their targets really were moving quite fast. They were clearly on horseback rather than traveling by wagon.

It was a rather troublesome situation. Tracking magic's potency depended on mana quantity, not mana concentration.

Gwen was better suited to it than Galahad. That was why he had sent the others to the driver's bench.

"Wh-what do we do?!"

"You must cast this spell. Your mana reserves are exceptionally large. You should be capable of it."

"But I can't see it!"

She was right.

Tracking magic was strictly practical: discreet and formless. Naturally. What kind of tracking magic would it be if it were flashy?

It was a spell Gwen could never find beautiful.

'Then I'll make it flashy.'

That would make the spell considerably more complicated, but this was Gwen, after all.

Galahad gently closed his eyes and reviewed the spell. He dismantled the tracking magic, extracted its essential principles, and added some elegant formulas.

Since tracking magic was fundamental to an agent, it did not take long.

"Watch closely."

Galahad held his index finger before Gwen's eyes. Both eyes focused on the long finger.

A spark sprang from its tip, bouncing between his fingers and swelling in size. Soon, a small but magnificent lightning blossom bloomed. It traveled along the knife and disappeared outside.

"Aaagh! That stings!"

Gwen exclaimed in admiration.

"Try it."

Her eyes unfocused, Gwen raised her hand in a daze. Sparks leaped from her palm. A lightning blossom bloomed, cruder than Galahad's but impressive in its own way.

The problem was...

'She couldn't channel it into the knife.'

The crucial release had failed.

She needed a little more stimulation.

Galahad frowned at her.

"The spell I just showed you can track Damian. Hmm, my hand is losing strength."

As he spoke, he quietly reduced his mana, and the sparks around the knife visibly weakened.

Desperation filled Gwen's face.

"No!"

"This is as far as I can go. You'll have to do it now. Take the knife."

Galahad passed it to her. Gwen gripped it awkwardly.

"I-I can't! You only showed me once!"

Galahad firmly grasped Gwen's round head. It was small enough to fit in one hand.

"You can do it. Didn't you just do it? All you need to do is repeat that."

"But—"

He pressed down on her head, and her mouth closed.

"You can do it. If you can't, Damian... Well, he'll never get to eat that meat he loves again."

Gwen sniffled loudly. Galahad whispered into her ear about how pitiful Damian was, while continuing to track him with his other hand.

A little later, Gwen bit her lip hard and took a firm grip on the knife.

The mana pouring from her was extraordinary.

'Her emotions really do play a part.'

He was beginning to understand how to use Gwen.

* * *

"Well, which way am I supposed to go?"

Gilberton frowned at the knife.

Steering by a knife was strange enough, but now the thing had suddenly stopped moving.

"Which way do we go? We'll lose them at this rate!"

He banged on the wagon and shouted.

The knife shifted slightly. With no better option, Gilberton took up the reins.

How long had they traveled like that?

When he checked the knife again, it was shaking violently, unlike before.

'Which way am I supposed to go?'

Golden sparks leaped around the knife. Small at first, they grew thicker and soon began flying wildly.

"What the—?"

Gilberton frowned and lifted his coat slightly. It was made of demon-beast hide.

Then the thickened sparks blazed beyond the knife.

They looked like lightning—lightning striking in reverse, from the ground toward the sky.

Tom screamed at the golden streaks spraying from the knife. Clicking his tongue, Gilberton pulled him close.

"Damian is waiting!"

Galahad's bizarre shout came from inside.

The outstretched lightning slowly subsided, becoming a thick strand.

A golden line, like tightly compressed lightning, stretched far ahead, as though pointing the way.

"What is this?"

No one could answer Gilberton's muttered question.

"Rookie! Hold the reins properly!"

Gilberton's berating of Adrianna brought Tom to his senses. He hurriedly took out a map.

If they continued in that direction...

'Isn't that Hellob?'

The long war against the Demons had reduced the number of battalions, but the North had once had more. Hellob was a city formerly under the now-defunct Fifteenth Battalion's jurisdiction.

It had once been the largest city in the North, but a Demon attack had destroyed it. That had happened a very long time ago.

By now, the place survived only in ghost stories. Why were they heading there?

Still, the real horror story was elsewhere.

"Rookie, I'm bored. Sing us a song."

Tom found the present moment more frightening than any ghost story.