Leon couldn't tear his gaze from the figure before him; a striking young man with an air of mystery, who seemed to have materialized from nowhere, the faint shimmer of optical camouflage vanishing as he appeared. Not only did this stranger speak flawless Feru, but the entire entrance felt like a spectacle, as if he had stepped out of thin air. Leon's mind was buzzing with questions.
**"Warning spell?"**
The thought nagged at him. This boy had powers beyond anything Leon had witnessed, magic, a skill only wielded by true practitioners. Clearly, he was dealing with someone who belonged to the elusive world of sorcery.
"Are you from the Atias Embassy?" Leon asked cautiously, avoiding any sudden moves. There was no telling what kind of abilities the other could unleash.
The blond boy studied Leon with intent, a flicker of expectation in his eyes that faded as he gave a slight nod. He tugged his collar down, revealing a mark embedded in his skin. "I am a Fanu of Pirieno," he clarified, calm yet assured. "But you don't need to be alarmed; I mean you no harm."
Leon's eyes lingered on the mark, a binding magical pattern, identical to the one that held Elena captive. In that instant, understanding dawned on him: this boy was also under the control of a spell, likely enslaved in the same way as Elena. His intentions were probably sincere; after all, if he bore ill will, he wouldn't have approached so openly.
Magic-wielders truly lived by different rules. Leon exhaled slowly, allowing himself a bit of relief before responding, "I don't know what this 'warning spell' means. Whoever cast it, it wasn't me."
A flicker of disappointment crossed the boy's face, as if his suspicions had been confirmed. But he pressed on, "You're not from Kantadar. You're here only to help Ms. Elena, aren't you?"
Leon felt a pang of regret; he'd spoken a bit too freely earlier. But before he could answer, Elena tugged on his sleeve, her voice reassuring. "Corvis is my friend, Leon. He's been looking out for me; he won't betray us."
Corvis inclined his head, his voice gentle but resolute. "As Elena said, I don't intend to expose you. But I have to urge you… do not throw away your lives trying to save hers."
Leon's eyes softened, and he spoke calmly. "You misunderstand, my friend. I know your master; Pirieno, as you called him; as immense power. But we don't plan on using brute force. My companion has managed to establish a diplomatic rapport with Pirieno and is negotiating for Elena's freedom."
Corvis's expression shifted, eyes widening slightly. "Diplomatic rapport?" he echoed, almost disbelieving. He paused, his face lighting up with barely concealed amusement as he remembered the flurry of gossip surrounding his master. The nobleman, with his high expectations for potential suitors, had recently spoken highly of a visiting noble, a 'handsome boy' who had stirred a flutter of curiosity in Pirieno. Corvis pressed his hand to his mouth, stifling laughter that bubbled up despite himself. "I… I'm sorry," he managed, giggling. "Your companion… would that happen to be the nobleman you arrived with today?"
Leon's brows knitted together at the sight of Corvis's amusement. "What? Is our plan so absurd?"
Corvis shook his head, finally catching his breath. "No, no, forgive me. If, as you said, your noble friend has managed to spark… 'friendship' with my master, then perhaps he truly can negotiate Ms. Elena's release."
But as Corvis spoke, his gaze fell back on Elena, the magical shackle glinting at her neck. "However," he added, his voice darkening, "are you really planning to let Elena leave with this spell collar still in place?"
The question sent a chill down Leon's spine. Corvis glanced at Liam, who had been silently watching. "You introduced yourself as a knight of Orland. Does that mean the title 'Lord Aleia Casoles' is also fabricated?"
Liam's silence confirmed his suspicion, and Corvis continued, "Even if you manage to get on Pirieno's good side and win Elena's temporary freedom, once Pirieno discovers the ruse, Elena's life and possibly yours; will hang on a thread."
"So you're saying," Leon pressed, his tone hardening, "that Pirieno might release her, but would never willingly remove the curse?"
"It's not a matter of willingness," Corvis replied gravely, his voice steady. "It's a matter of ability. Whatever spell he's bound her with, Pirieno lacks the skill to break it."
Leon's heart sank. The path they had envisioned; a diplomatic solution, seemed riddled with pitfalls and uncertainties. Would they truly be able to free Elena, both body and soul, from this dark magic?
A shadow of bitterness crossed the blond boy's eyes as he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, "As far as I know, there's only one way to break the Blood Curse."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle before continuing. "The death of the one who cast it."
The room fell silent. Across from him, Brandon's face, usually composed and dignified, drained of all color. The implication hit him like a blow, and he could feel the cold grip on his shoulder from Pirieno, who had been standing behind him, now like a serpent's coil. A sickening wave of revulsion surged through him, urging him to recoil. He leapt up from his seat, stepping back as an icy sweat broke out across his back. Every nerve screamed for him to flee.
Pirieno chuckled at Brandon's reaction, his gaze sharp yet amused, savoring the boy's distress. "Oh, come now, Alea," he purred, using the boy's title in mock gentleness. "I didn't mean to startle you." He took a leisurely turn, bracing himself on the back of his chair, an air of casual authority enveloping him. He made no move to stop Brandon from retreating toward the door.
After all, they were still in Kantadar territory, and even as much as he disdained what he considered the 'uncivilized' ways of this land, Pirieno knew better than to force his will upon a noble son of Kantadar. Any overt insult to the nation's aristocracy; however impoverished or minor, would bring diplomatic consequences he had no interest in facing. Besides, coaxing this young noble into submission held a twisted satisfaction that direct coercion simply couldn't provide.
Brandon's pulse hammered in his ears. He stumbled over his words, struggling to maintain his composure but barely able to hide the panic bubbling up inside him. "I… I; this is… this is absurd… between… between men—"
Pirieno laughed softly, stepping forward with a hint of menace as he leaned closer. "Take all the time you need to think about it, dear Alea." His fingers reached up to lift the boy's chin, his voice dripping with suggestion. "But remember, if you decide not to comply… I may need to reconsider my support and investments." His gaze sharpened. "You wouldn't want to lose the chance to reclaim your father's title and lands, would you?"
Brandon felt a chill shoot up his spine. He'd always understood the dark dance of politics, of allegiances and exchanges in the noble world. But feeling the full weight of this sordid offer sent bile rising to his throat. His mind flashed back to Pirieno's earlier attempt at intimacy, the kiss on the cheek that now seemed loaded with implications he hadn't wanted to see. The revulsion grew unbearable.
"Your Excellency! Please… I beg you… give me time to think about it!" He managed to twist his head free from Pirieno's touch, his voice breaking as he turned and bolted for the door.
Out in the hall, he barely recognized himself: the normally brave son of nobility, fleeing in fear. He wanted only to escape the haunted stare, the twisted smile of that man.
Once outside, Brandon hurriedly sought out his companions. Spotting Leon and the others in the courtyard, he approached them with barely-contained rage and humiliation, his previous trust in Pirieno's 'friendly' overtures shattered. He opened his mouth, ready to vent his disgust, but Leon stepped forward, his gaze serious.
"Save it," Leon interrupted quietly, seeing the raw fury and shame in Brandon's eyes. "We'll discuss it back in our quarters."
Brandon clenched his fists, swallowing his anger. Leon's words, though steady, carried a deep conviction. He, too, had come to realize that the blond boy's warning was all too accurate.
They left the embassy in silence, their steps quick as they made their way back to the guest quarters within the castle's west wing. Once they were safely inside, the three exchanged the grim details of what each had uncovered. And as Brandon relayed the entirety of his encounter with Pirieno, a heavy quiet settled over them. The air felt thick with a sense of both dread and frustration, each of them grappling with the grim truth of their situation.
Brandon's personal plight, the shame of being a pawn in such a twisted game, weighed on them all.
The restraint around Lady Elena's neck; the twisted, enchanted collar of slavery, was their constant reminder of how powerless they were against it. Even the one who cast the spell, it was said, could not remove it. They knew that if they attempted to flee with her, the mage who held her bond, Pirieno, could end her life in an instant, no matter how far they ran.
The grim reality was all too clear: as long as Pirieno lived, Elena's life was not her own, nor was it theirs to protect. To leave their lives at the mercy of this cruel magician was unthinkable. Leon, his face shadowed by the weight of their dilemma, finally broke the silence.
"There's only one path left for us," he said, his voice low and steady, the kind that carried the weight of hard truth. "Pirieno must die. There's no other way."
The words hung heavy in the room, and for a moment, they all absorbed the enormity of what he'd said. To kill a legendary mage like Pirieno, however, was no small feat. Leon rubbed his temples, feeling the familiar tension there, as his mind whirred with the challenge ahead.
He had seen firsthand the terrifying power wielded by magic users in this world. Even Isa's simple arrow spell; a small bit of magic, as Miss Lola had called it; was as powerful as a high-caliber bullet and had saved his life more than once. And that was just the basics.
Then there was Count Trosa's sorcerer adviser, who commanded the wind itself, and today's encounter with the blond boy who could turn invisible with just a thought. These powers were strange, beyond understanding, each spell a new layer of danger.
Leon recalled what Corvis had told them about the mage hierarchy in Atias. There were ranks among mages, titles awarded by the Imperial Mage Academy: "Adept," "Standard," and the fearsome "Magus." Each title marked a level of power, and, if Corvis wasn't exaggerating, even an average mage could take down a squad of heavily armored knights if they were prepared.
And Pirieno wasn't just any mage. He was a "Master" a rank of such power that he was rumored to be able to decimate a small army. While Corvis had mentioned with a sneer that Pirieno's rank was earned with bribes rather than pure skill, he was still a formidable opponent. Even if his title was "inflated," Pirieno was no mage that Leon and his small group could hope to take head-on.
But if a direct assault was suicide, what options were left?
The idea of trickery crossed Leon's mind. Poison, maybe; slipping something deadly into Pirieno's food, or catching him off-guard when he was at rest, vulnerable. But Leon's heart sank as he recalled that his one lead on poisonsa; a man named Boris, had met a bitter end, executed by the villagers before Leon could investigate his resources.
He made the gesture for Isa's Arrow, silently calling upon the idea of striking from a distance. What if he could eliminate Pirieno from afar, perhaps with a sniper's precision, while the mage was unaware? The thought was tempting, yet it was clear that even that plan would require skill and timing they might not possess.
As Leon and his companions continued debating the feasibility of an assassination, a sudden, firm knock sounded at the door. The three froze, each tense and wary. Then a voice called out, unsettling in its calmness.
"Sir Alaia, may I come in?"
The three in the room glanced at each other in surprise, their attention snapping to the door. Brandon's brows furrowed in confusion; he didn't recognize the voice. Leon, however, sensed familiarity. He whispered to Liam, "I think it's the slave boy from the embassy."
Unsure of his intentions, Leon and Liam exchanged a quick nod, each bracing themselves before Leon moved to unlock the door.
As expected, it was indeed the blond boy. But this time, he appeared quite different. Gone was his crisp white tunic, replaced by a dark cloak that draped over him, a hood concealing most of his face. The effect was almost theatrical; his entire figure seemed to blend into shadow, though his appearance ironically made him stand out even more in the castle halls. Whoever he was hiding from, he seemed unbothered by the curious looks he would undoubtedly attract.
"Excuse me," he said curtly, stepping inside. Without a moment's hesitation, he shut the door behind him and locked it, his posture unfazed and confident, as if he were no stranger here.
Brandon blinked, startled by the boy's boldness. "Who are you?"
Leon quickly introduced the mysterious young man, explaining Corvis's identity and his connection to Elena. When he finished, Leon's curiosity got the better of him. "So… you can just come and go from the embassy at will?"
Corvis gave a wry smile, pulling his arms into the folds of his cloak. "After years of obedience and restraint, yes, I've earned some degree of freedom. In Pirieno's eyes, I'm as harmless and predictable as a pet." He tugged his cloak tighter around himself before finding an empty chair. He sat, glancing at them with a look that held equal parts amusement and bitterness.
"When I learned that 'Lord Aleia' had refused Pirieno's… proposal, I offered an excuse, said I was coming here to convince him on Pirieno's behalf. After all," Corvis continued, casting his gaze downward with a small, self-mocking smile, "I knew my face would make a more persuasive impression than Pirieno could ever hope to."
Leon couldn't help but acknowledge the truth of that. Corvis was stunning, with a beauty that blurred the line between masculine and feminine, a beauty more striking than even Brandon's. In his old world, Leon thought, people would have flocked to him, admiring his looks. But here? In a land where the powerful preyed on the powerless, and beauty was as dangerous as a curse, Leon felt a pang of sympathy. Knowing Pirieno's twisted nature only deepened the sense of pity. It must have taken an unfathomable strength for Corvis to survive in such a setting, living as both a servant and a prisoner.
Leon felt an unexpected gratitude for his own unremarkable appearance; he would never face the kind of horrors Corvis must have endured.
But he focused on the present. "Why did you come to us?" Leon asked, sensing that this young man, despite his bond to Pirieno, was reaching out for something more. "Are you here to offer us advice?"
Corvis looked at him with a steady, assessing gaze. "I came to see how resolved you are."
"Resolved?" Leon repeated, intrigued.
"Yes." Corvis's expression didn't change. "If you're ready to give up, I have no reason to hope you'll be any help to me." The words were frank, his tone neutral.
Liam's face brightened slightly. "Wait; are you saying you'll help us?"
Corvis raised a brow. "This isn't just for you. My own future is at stake here, too. But before we move any further, I need to see what you're capable of." His eyes were serious, almost testing them with each word.
Leon's mind raced. Corvis had been at Pirieno's side for years. If he, someone who knew Pirieno intimately, was ready to turn against him, their chances of succeeding against this legendary mage would improve significantly. But one question still nagged at Leon's mind.
"Wait," Leon said, his curiosity finally overtaking him, "if you've endured for so long and gained his trust, why haven't you tried to kill him yourself? You had the patience and proximity. Didn't you ever find the right moment?"
Corvis's face turned pensive, the bitterness in his eyes deepening. He took a breath, leaning back. "If it were that easy, Pirieno would have been dead long ago. He doesn't trust easily, even with those closest to him. His spells are layered, protections woven around him so tightly that I couldn't get close enough without risking my own life. He's paranoid, constantly guarded, and I…" he hesitated, looking down. "I've had to play the part perfectly. Even a flicker of disloyalty would be enough to doom me."
A heavy silence followed. The cost of survival had been steep for Corvis, more than any of them could truly grasp. And yet, here he was, defying that very survival instinct, risking everything by standing before them, in a desperate gamble to break free.
Leon finally spoke, his voice carrying both respect and understanding. "Then let's make sure this time isn't like the others. Tell us what we need to do."
Corvis's gaze sharpened, his eyes glinting with a spark of long-buried hope.
Leon hesitated, feeling a pang of discomfort at the direction his thoughts were taking. He didn't want to offend Corvis, but if assassination was the only option, an intimate moment; when Pirieno's guard was down, would offer the best opportunity.
Corvis caught the implication in Leon's expression, and a bitter, sad smile crossed his face. "I've never attempted it," he said, his voice low and heavy, "because countless others have already tried and paid with their lives."
A flash of grief darkened Corvis's eyes as he continued, "How long would it take to overpower a person with a sword or bow? Moments, perhaps. But for a mage like Pirieno? He would need only an instant to activate the Blood Oath spell and end his attacker's life. Swords, poisons, assassinations; these are all strategies the cunning mages of Atias have known for centuries. But these methods, lethal for ordinary people, barely scratch the defenses that mages build around themselves day and night. To kill Pirieno before he can react… it's nearly impossible."
Leon's brow furrowed as he honed in on a key detail. "Defenses… day and night? Are you saying he's shielded even in his sleep?"
Corvis gave a resigned sigh, noting Leon's growing intent. "What, are you considering trying to kill him while he's resting?"
There was a hint of exasperation in Corvis's voice, as if the idea felt all too familiar. He changed the topic abruptly, asking, "By the way, did you destroy the warning spell in the courtyard?"
Leon quickly shook his head, setting aside his plan for now. "I told you before: I didn't. But if you want a suspect, the bard at the wedding, Goliad, is your best bet. Elena mentioned he's been talking with her often, comforting her."
Corvis looked contemplative, a frown deepening his face. "I checked before I came here. The Falcon family didn't invite any bard named Goliad. The castle staff responsible for guest management said they haven't seen a minstrel in red pants with a mustache."
Leon raised his eyebrows in realization. So, Goliad had snuck in, just as they had. It would explain how he knew of hidden passages and weak points in the castle walls; he'd likely used them to gain access himself.
"Let's be honest," Leon said, growing curious, "you're fixated on this intruder because you're hoping he might help you kill Pirieno, aren't you?"
Corvis didn't deny it. He nodded, his expression quietly resolute. "Exactly. Anyone with the skill to bypass Pirieno's warning spells must possess strong magical talent. If he could slip in undetected, it stands to reason he'd have the power to strike in a moment of weakness."
Brandon, who had been listening carefully, picked up on Corvis's choice of words. He leaned forward, eyes narrowed. "Wait… You just said Pirieno's defenses only drop in moments of weakness. But I thought he kept his guard up constantly?"
Corvis turned to Brandon with a wry smile, his expression laden with irony. "Yes… except in a certain kind of moment."
Brandon's face twisted in confusion, but the realization dawned soon after, leaving him visibly disturbed.
"Pirieno only drops his defenses when… seeking certain 'pleasures,'" Corvis continued, his tone edged with disdain. "For him, it's the only time he'll remove his protective wards. After all, he wouldn't be able to enjoy 'contact' otherwise."
Brandon's stomach turned, and he involuntarily shrank back into his chair, the implications weighing on him with sickening clarity.