Chapter 17

Chapter 17
Alon had accomplished everything he set out to do at the Blue Tower. His primary aim had been to secure the artifact concealed within the tower’s underground chamber, and with that now in his possession, he saw no purpose in remaining. He resolved to depart the Blue Tower at once, not only because his business was concluded but also to avoid provoking Penia, who was already irritated. He was aware she wasn’t a completely unreasonable individual, yet the potential for an unforeseen incident always existed.

This was his line of thinking just after he had secured the artifact and quietly let out a breath of relief.

But then…

“What is… this?”

“A potion I prepared.”

Alon looked at her, his sharp gaze belying the strained smile he offered, and then lifted the potion vial from the table. The liquid within was a profound blue, emitting a soft white luminescence when he gave it a slight shake.

‘…This is a magic recovery potion. And an exceptionally potent one…’

In this world, magical potions did not take effect instantly as they might in games; their influence was gradual. A more precise name for them would be “Magic Recovery Enhancement Potions” rather than simply “Magic Recovery Potions.”

Yet, among all such mixtures, the five vials Penia had set before Alon were the rare ones that truly deserved the title “Magic Recovery Potion.” The supreme-grade concoction he held could restore a measure of magical power almost the moment it was consumed.

These potions, technically enhancement elixirs but commonly called recovery potions, were extraordinarily costly. Alon had once considered purchasing one when he grew frustrated with his limitation of using magic only once per day, but the quoted price had nearly made him lose consciousness.

‘I believe the value of just two of these bottles could purchase a modest country house…’

After studying the potion for a moment, he shifted his attention to Penia. Her uneasy smile betrayed a thread of anxiety, and the instant his eyes met hers, she spoke.

“Do you approve?”

“I recognize this is a high-grade potion, but why are you presenting it to me?”

“I’m giving it to you.”

“You’re giving me this potion?”

“Yes.”

“…?”

A question mark formed in Alon’s mind. He could partially comprehend why her demeanor had shifted so abruptly after he sealed the artifact. She might have felt some gratitude or reverence, since the method for closing the artifact had been unknown until now.

But to Alon, Penia’s present conduct didn’t appear to originate from gratitude or reverence at all.

‘Could she be misjudging me, like that wizard who accompanied Lady Zenonia previously?’

With this suspicion, Alon spoke.

“…To be clear, I am a Second Rank Wizard.”

“Yes, I am aware. Of course you are a Second Rank Wizard.”

When he voiced his suspicion that she might be laboring under a misconception, Penia nodded with an eager, almost expectant vigor, which only served to perplex him further.

Witnessing her earnest nodding, Alon wondered if she was merely attempting to flatter him.

However, Penia’s expression was utterly serious. This meant Penia wasn’t mistaken about anything, a fact that deepened Alon’s confusion.

“I swear I will keep what I witnessed earlier a secret. Completely, without fail,” Penia insisted.

Alon responded, “There is no need for such a vow—”

“No, please! Let me make this promise. I wish to promise. If required, I can swear it upon my magic. I will do so here, immediately!”

“Wait, just a—”

Before Alon could finish his objection, Penia was already rapidly gathering her magical energy. An intense surge of power abruptly filled the office, causing Alon’s heart to jolt, and before he could intercede, Penia had already uttered a binding magical oath.

‘Is she truly going to these lengths just to protect the secret of sealing the artifact? Certainly, the artifact is a mystery to them, but…’

Externally, Alon’s face remained a mask, but internally, he was completely confounded. He understood that Penia was clearly operating under a significant misunderstanding.

“You see? I am excellent at keeping promises. I will guard this secret, absolutely…!”

“…Very well.”

Seeing Penia speak with such desperate sincerity after swearing her oath, Alon could only offer a calm nod in reply. It was apparent that her misunderstanding would not be resolved soon.

And so, Alon departed the Blue Tower carrying five bottles of magic recovery potion and the artifact he had come for.

***

Seated in the carriage returning to the count’s estate from the Blue Tower, Alon’s eyes naturally fell upon the bracelet on his wrist. This bracelet, which Penia had permitted him to take after he neutralized the artifact, was the very object he had journeyed to the Blue Tower to acquire.

‘The Bracelet of the Impure.’

The bracelet’s design was not particularly elegant. To draw a comparison, it resembled an inexpensive trinket one might find for a pittance at a street market. Its sole distinctive feature was the set of black gemstones set into it, which seemed to swallow all light. Beyond that, its appearance was utterly unremarkable.

Yet, despite its plain and uninspiring look, the bracelet possessed the capability to supplement Alon’s limited mana reserves.

Alon subtly turned his wrist, examining the black gems. While not obvious at a glance, a faint, rippling blue energy was visible within the stones if one looked closely.

‘It’s functioning correctly.’

The bracelet’s ability was to absorb and accumulate ambient magical energy, storing it for the wielder’s use. Although the total amount of magic the bracelet could hold was restricted, and not exceptionally vast, it was ironically capable of storing more magic than Alon’s own innate mana pool.

“…”

For a fleeting moment, Alon felt a peculiar sense of clarity as he contrasted his own body’s capacity to contain magic with that of a mere tool meant to aid wizards. But the feeling was quickly gone.

“Sigh.”

He drew a deep breath, settling his thoughts.

‘This is enough. I am not heading into combat, after all.’

His reason for seeking the Insignia of the Impure was to enable more efficient magical study and to provide a measure of defense against unexpected dangers.

From this perspective, the quantity of magic supplied by the Insignia of the Impure was perfectly adequate—it was not an excessive amount, but it was also not lacking.

Naturally, having a surplus is always preferable to a deficit.

“I recall there was a technique among the artifacts for forcibly regulating power and minimizing mana consumption; I should research that,” Alon thought, lightening his mood and bringing his reflections to a close. He then gazed out the carriage window. As he looked outside, he suddenly remembered Penia, who had bowed to him with deep respect just before he entered the carriage.

‘What in the world was that about?’

Reflecting on Penia’s strange behavior that began right after he sealed the artifact, Alon simply shrugged. He had no further obligations to her, anyway.

For a short while, he watched the forest outside, bathed in gentle sunlight and swaying in a muted green hue. It was a pleasantly warm spring day.

***

While Alon was en route back to the Palatio Count’s estate, two women were seated opposite one another in the office of the Duke of Altia’s residence. One was Roria, the head of the ducal household, who had fully assimilated the power of the Altia family and assumed the authority of the former duke. The other was Kalia, the lady of the Zenonia Count’s family—or more accurately, the effective ruler of the Zenonia household.

“It’s been some time,” Kalia offered in greeting.

“It has,” Roria replied.

The two exchanged casual pleasantries. Under ordinary circumstances, this would be inconceivable. Roria had already inherited her title and was a duchess, while Kalia was still a countess and had not formally assumed leadership of her family. Despite this, Roria showed no sign of displeasure at the lack of formal deference.

The reason was that Roria knew Kalia wielded absolute control over the Zenonia household. Furthermore, within the underworld, the name of the Zenonia Count carried slightly more weight than that of the Altia Duke.

But most importantly, Roria permitted Kalia this informality because they both served the same individual—the Palatio Count.

In other words, there was no need for a struggle for dominance between them. Whether they willed it or not, they were destined to form an alliance under the directive of the Palatio Count, even if the full reasoning eluded them.

While they only grasped that the instruction to “meet the Altia Duke” implied forging an alliance after discovering their shared subordination to the Palatio Count, they understood that establishing a hierarchy beneath an absolute superior was a pointless endeavor.

“So, what brings you here today? The scheduled meeting is not until next month, is it?” Roria inquired.

Kalia carefully retrieved a letter from her pocket and laid it on the desk.

“He sent a letter, so I came.”

“…This?”

“Yes,” Kalia affirmed with a nod.

Roria picked up the letter and began to read its contents silently. The letter was far from a cryptic document; it was remarkably mundane. It contained a brief greeting, followed by commentary on noble families, citing a few examples. It ended with the observation, “There aren’t many nobles who get along well with me.”

This was, in fact, a letter Alon had sent about a month prior, composed with somewhat logical explanations after feeling a pang of guilt for his dismissive treatment of Kalia. The core of Alon’s message was, “I’m not being specifically difficult with you—I am rather brief with other nobles as well. You were not singled out.”

An ordinary noble receiving such treatment and then this letter might have correctly deduced Alon’s intended meaning.

However, Alon had failed to account for three critical points.

First, the individuals reading this letter were major figures in the underworld. Second, they perceived the Palatio Count as an invincible entity. Third, because of the second point, they naturally assumed this ordinary letter must contain some concealed directive.

And, true to her sharp intellect, Kalia began assembling an impossible puzzle, as befitted a key player in the underworld.

“The Kenia Baron is aligned with the aristocratic faction… and the Marantino Marquis is a central figure among the royalists.”

“Viscount Vilanda sides with the royalists, and similarly, the Duke Paldion is a leading member of the aristocratic faction.”

As they started categorizing the noble families Alon had mentioned encountering and speaking with at the ball, it did not take them long to begin connecting the pieces.

“In essence, it appears he does not favor either the aristocratic or the royalist factions.”

For a brief moment, the thought, “Does he want to eliminate them all?” crossed both their minds. But they shook their heads in unison, as if by prior agreement. It was far too irrational.

The alternative conclusion that naturally followed was:

“Does he intend to supplant the existing nobles and establish a new order?”

After this was spoken, the two women fell into silence. Under normal conditions, this would be an impossible undertaking. Altering an entrenched system is not a feat achievable by a small group of nobles.

But for these two, for whom politics was as natural as breathing and who constantly measured the balance of power, the situation was entirely different. It would demand extensive preparation and time, but the final answer they reached was: “It is possible.”

“Aha,” Roria exhaled softly.

To be honest, until this moment, she had been unable to deduce what Alon was truly aiming for, nor why he had elevated her to a duchess. But if this was his genuine objective, then everything fell into place.

If he was indeed planning what she suspected, then the “notoriety” of the Altia Duke was absolutely essential. Moreover, an alliance with the Zenonia Count, the dominant power in the west, would unquestionably tip the scales toward success.

“…It seems that must be his intention,” Roria said, a shiver running through her as she comprehended the Count’s true design.

And so, as the afternoon waned and twilight descended, they began to draft their schemes in a room where not even a magical lamp was lit.

…A bizarre puzzle had been assembled and was now starting to move of its own accord.

At that very moment, Alon…

“Hmm. Hmm…?”

In a forest where the early sunset brought a noticeable chill, he was eating a sweet potato.

“Tasty.”

Completely oblivious to everything, his soft utterance as he bit into the sweet potato was lost amid the trees.