Chapter 503

—All we've received is a report that the Archduke Olaf is investigating the situation. Did you really cross the Black Wall, Agent of the Saint?

Seras had continued to leave letters even after Ian had gone missing. The writing had even grown smaller, as if, rather than using fewer words, the Princess had simply chosen to shrink the letters.

—I met with Sir Philip. He asked to be sent to the front lines. Of course, I gently persuaded him to return. I told him that if he believes you're still alive, he should continue to follow your orders. He agreed immediately. He truly believes you are alive. The surprising thing is, I do too...

Ian's eyes scanned quickly over the minuscule letters. Though a shadow was cast over the message held up before his face, it didn't hinder his reading in the slightest.

—The situation is unfolding similarly to what I inferred from my dreams. I am still deliberating on what the best choice is...

—I met Elia. She didn't seem sad. Rather, I sensed a tenacity and will—she was determined to find a way to bring down the Wall.

He reread the lines he'd already skimmed through, just in case he'd missed something. Of course, there was another reason as well, though he still hadn't found anything he'd overlooked, or anything unusual.

—My brother decided to stay in the capital. He jumped up in protest, saying our siblings would think him a coward, but I convinced him. I'll omit the reasoning behind this decision since there's not much space left. In fact, even this feels like a waste...

—Do you remember when I proposed to you, Agent of the Saint? Ridiculous, isn't it? I didn't think of that day often after we parted. But now that you have disappeared like this, I find myself...

—Not much is known about the internal affairs of the North. The consensus is that the Archduke is intentionally concealing information. He cannot do so forever...

Either way, even on a second read, there wasn't much substance.

Why bother shrinking the font if this is all it says?

Most of it revolved around the imperial palace, the capital, her interests, and idle chatter. It was as if she had some weird condition where she'd drop dead if she didn't finish every sentence.

—I met Sir Philip again. He seems to be devoted to training. I hear the bishops have started to approach him. He's torn between a safe path and a dangerous one. I recommended the former, but Sir Philip will likely...

—I had a private audience with Father. He asked why my brother stayed in the capital. He knew it was at my urging. I think I made the right choice. As expected, Father's attention lies solely...

Thankfully, the princess's condition seemed to improve as the letters went on. Her sentences became more concise. But even so, that couldn't stop her from eventually running out of space.

—Yesterday, I saw another crossroads. One I can neither believe nor speak of.

That was the last sentence, written as if she had saved and saved the space for it, its exact date unknown.

A faint, dry smile touched Ian's lips.

You should have at least left me one line to reply...

The only space left for him was a tiny blank area in the corner. It must have been the last resort, prepared for the one-in-a-million chance he might return. Or perhaps there had been more space, but she had used it all up with her last letter.

In any case, that space was now filled too, with a single word.

—South.

It was the reply Ian had left, using a feather pen he found rolling in a corner of the storage box. Due to the lack of space, that single word was all he left. Of course, even if there had been more room, it likely wouldn't have changed much.

"Has there been a reply?" asked Lucia

Folding the Scroll of Correspondence in half, Ian shook his head. "I hoped, but no."

That was another reason he had double-checked the parchment. But apparently, writing a reply over already inked letters didn't seem possible.

"That's a shame." Lucia shrugged without taking her eyes off the parchment. However, her tone suggested otherwise.

Ian felt the same. After all, the purpose had only been to prove he was alive and to share his location. A single word was enough for both.

Besides, knowing the princess's personality, she would've already seen the reply. And she'd surely pass the word on to Philip and Elia as well.

That should be enough.

With that thought, Ian folded the parchment once more and set it aside.

As the candle flames flickered, dim shadows danced beyond the small window cut into the wall opposite them. A wooden plank had been propped up to leave it half open. The fortress had almost no windows, and the few it had were tiny, likely because the desert was nearby.

"Anything useful in that newsletter, or whatever it's called?" Ian asked, straightening his half-reclined torso as he reached into his pocket dimension.

—Friend, when will I...

Yog's faint, spreading whisper was cut off without mercy. Ian took out a small storage box from his pocket dimension and placed it beside him.

"Nothing so far. It seems this newsletter started being made after the corrosion began," answered Lucia.

She hesitated for a moment before continuing, "To share the situation on each front. The rest of the information is just supplementary. I'll have to read through it all to be sure, though. If there's any important information, I'll let you know. Short and concise."

Her tone sounded pleased, like she was genuinely enjoying the prospect of having something to read. It was a conclusion that pleased Ian as well.

"Alright. I'm counting on you," Ian replied, opening the lid of the storage box and placing the neatly folded Scroll of Correspondence inside.

Lucia, for her part, had never read the letter in full. She had only skimmed the beginning before returning it to Ian. Her reasoning was that letting anyone else read the private thoughts the Princess had entrusted solely to him would be an unbearable violation of the Princess's trust.

So Ian had to recount the message to her verbally, short and concise, of course.

This world really needs to get on board with TL;DR culture.

Thinking this, he took out a dark, bark-like talisman from the storage box, dried and rough like a withered piece of tree. It was the item he needed most tonight.

𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

Just as his fingers reached for it, Diana, lying on the bed with one leg bent and the other resting across it, said, "I think a servant is coming."

Ian heard the quiet approach of footsteps a moment later. He tossed the storage box into his pocket dimension and stood up.

"Diana. Catch." He flicked his right hand.

Diana, who reflexively reached out and caught the object arcing toward her, widened her eyes. "Are you giving this to me?!"

What Ian had thrown was a cigarette. Pushing the closed silver cigarette case between the plates of his breastplate, Ian gave a slight nod. "Just lending it. I'll be collecting it once we get to your family's estate."

"Of course! I'll pay you back with interest!" Diana exclaimed, her eyes gleaming as she looked down at the cigarette.

Knock, knock.

As the sound of knocking continued, Ian turned and added, "Absolutely do not let Lucia smoke. If possible, blow the smoke out the window."

"Don't worry. I won't even give her half a puff," Diana replied, and Lucia subtly pouted.

So she was thinking of bumming a puff.

A corner of Ian's mouth curled up as he reached for the door.

"Stay quiet and don't cause any trouble."

When he opened the door, the same dark-skinned boy servant was standing there. In one hand, he held a candlestick with two flickering candles.

After bowing politely at the knee, the boy turned. "I will escort you, Agent of the Saint."

"You don't need to walk ahead this time," Ian said, falling in step behind the boy.

The servant immediately matched his pace.

Walking down the corridor with him, Ian asked. "How's Moro, I mean, my horse?"

"I brought it raw meat, as you instructed. It... ate it very well. It's using a stall by itself, so it should rest comfortably," replied the servant, bowing his head slightly.

"Sir Billion is certainly attentive."

"Well, sir..." The servant hesitated for a moment, then shrugged and continued, "The other horses were apparently terrified and caused a ruckus. So it seems they had no choice but to make separate arrangements."

"It wasn't threatening the other horses, was it?" Ian asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

The servant shook his head. "No, sir. It didn't threaten me at all when I approached, either. Of course, it didn't let me touch it. The stable master said it must be a fine steed blessed by a god."

It's the exact opposite,

Ian thought, but he feigned ignorance, nodding as he descended the stairs. "Did you tell Sir Billion that we are leaving?"

"Yes. He asked me to inquire if you could possibly stay a few more days."

I knew it,

Ian muttered inwardly, shaking his head.

"Tell him we're grateful for the generous hospitality, but we'll be leaving as scheduled. And let him know that this isn't a request. It's a notice."

Turning into another corridor, the servant suddenly lowered his voice and said, "Yes, sir. Shall I have your steed ready by dawn, Agent of the Saint?"

It was the tone of someone ready to assist in a midnight escape.

Ian chuckled and looked back at him.

"Thank you, but have it prepared after sunrise. Your commander has no authority to stop me. Nor, of course, the guts."

"Yes, Agent of the Saint." The boy dipped his head, his faint smile lingering somewhere between embarrassment and amusement.

Even so, the boy's steps did not falter. Ian realized the servant was leading him to an annex connected to the side of the inner castle.

Soldiers stood at intervals, each group paired by race.

"Agent of the Saint."

"Glory be..."

At the sight of Ian, the soldiers immediately stepped aside and bowed their heads. Humans, elves, and even orcs showed him the same respect.

"Glory be..."

"Ta jakar..."

Passing through the corridor and turning onto a downward staircase, one of Ian's eyes narrowed slightly.

The words muttered by one of the orc soldiers were different from the others. He couldn't quite make out the pronunciation due to the orc's breathy intonation.

"Tash jakah?" Ian echoed the words under his breath.

"Ta jakar. I believe it's from an ancient desert language. It likely means something like savior of the desert or savior of the gods. Though I must admit, I'm not entirely certain."

"I didn't exactly save the desert," Ian replied, thinking it was a relief that Lucia didn't hear that.

It was then that the servant, who was descending the stairs, looked back at him.

"Because you, sir, saved our old god. With death, you finally gave it rest."

"You mean Yanar Tash."

"Yes. Among those from the desert, there are still some who carry guilt. Not only for abandoning their god, but for causing it to become corrupted."

"Are you one of those people?"

"My father is. My grandfather, too. I serve the Radiant Goddess, Agent of the Saint. And my parents, of course." The candlelight illuminated the boy's smiling face and teeth.

Looking up at Ian, the boy bowed his head slightly once more. "Still, thank you. My parents will be very happy when I tell them this news."

"I didn't do it to be thanked, but..." replied Ian, unconsciously scratching his chin.

The end of Yanar Tash was, in truth, anything but restful. It had become a living sacrifice to his domain.

"The prayer room is just ahead, Agent of the Saint," the servant said, having descended the stairs and entered the corridor by then.

Ian looked past the rather short corridor. Between the flickering torches, he saw a firmly shut wooden door. The symbol of Lu Solar was carved on the center.

The servant stopped and said, "I will wait until you have finished your business."

"What's your name?"

The question caught the servant off guard, but he replied promptly, "It is Amin, Agent of the Saint."

Ian, who had stopped, turned to the servant, Amin, and smiled. "Alright, Amin. I've memorized the way back, so go and rest. Come and get us tomorrow morning. I won't bother you before then."

Amin, with a smile whose exact meaning was hard to discern, bent his knee respectfully. "I will do so, Agent of the Saint."

Nodding, Ian turned around without another word. A smile formed on his lips as he approached the door, only to vanish as if washed away the moment he opened it.

Stepping inside, Ian scanned the room.

At this point, you might as well just call it a church or a temple.

The interior was quite spacious. The entire remaining space of the first floor was being used as a prayer room.

Several wooden chairs were arranged, and on the altar at the far end of the room, the golden ring symbolizing Lu Solar stood tall. Several candles had been lit around it.

It was clearly well maintained, but for now, at least, no one else was around to disturb him.

This should be more than enough.

Ian, who confirmed there was no one around as he walked, finally stopped in front of the altar. He raised his right hand in front of his chest and spread his fingers wide. A reddish glow shimmered briefly in his eyes.

Fwoosh...

A small flame bloomed in his palm. Ian stared for a moment at the quickly gathering fire, then raised his left hand. The talisman he had been holding all along dropped into the flame.

Fwoosh—

The flame instantly swallowed the talisman. A golden light that spread from within the fire brightened in an instant.

It was only a few seconds later that Ian's brow furrowed.

The golden magic did not burst forth from the flames, nor did a passage open with Mantra carved into the air.

Psss....

Just as the crease in Ian's brow deepened, the golden-tinged flame scattered into pieces. The talisman, imbued with golden magic, fell into his palm, perfectly intact.

Staring at the quest window that appeared simultaneously, Ian remained silent for a long time.

The Platinum Dragon had not answered the call.