Chapter 744

Ian’s eyes twitched faintly. For once, however, he did not refuse outright.

"And where exactly do you think we’re going?"

He fixed Miguel with a steady look. The priest avoided his gaze, scratching at his beard as though trying to tear it out by the roots, then let out an awkward laugh.

“Well, wherever we’re headed, our lives will probably be hanging by a thread again... won’t they?”

"And you know that," Ian clicked his tongue lightly, "yet after I placed you in a respectable position..."

Miguel lowered his hand and smacked his lips. "I won’t deny it’s a promotion. But the more I think about it, the more it feels like the wrong seat for me. I may wear a priest’s robe, but I barely read well enough to scrape by."

His eyes flicked toward the stairwell where Ferma had already vanished. Then he leaned closer and lowered his voice.

"Among all those clever types, I’ll just end up running errands anyway. If that’s the case..."

"You’d rather run errands on this side?" Ian finished for him.

Miguel grinned, yellowed teeth on full display, and nodded. "Exactly. Get some fresh air. And besides, I can pull my weight in a fight now, can’t I?"

He cast a subtle glance over Ian’s shoulder, as if seeking confirmation from the others. Ian didn’t need to turn; the slight shift of their presence was enough to guess they were nodding.

"So in the end, you want to toss aside the post I gave you because you’d rather wander around and brawl." Ian’s voice turned cool.

Miguel froze, then forced a strained chuckle. "N-Not like that... I just mean, for the greater good, wouldn’t it be better to put someone more suited in that seat?"

"I’ll summon Lucy to replace you immediately."

"W-well, it was meant to be hers eventually anyway! She’s sharp—far sharper than I am. She’d learn the work quicker and handle it better. Definitely..."

Miguel nodded vigorously, as if his head might fall off, then glanced toward the stairs again.

"She’d have that timid councilor wrapped around her finger in no time. And she’s probably itching for something to do at the temple. She’d welcome it with both hands."

He swallowed and looked at Ian with open earnestness. "So... would you take me along? I mean, if you say no, that’s that. I’m not saying I absolutely refuse to stay—"

"Have you asked the High Priestess for permission?" Ian cut in quietly, his gaze steady.

Miguel’s head snapped up, eyes lighting at once. "Not yet—but I’m certain she’ll agree! It’d be easier for her to teach Lucy directly if she traveled with her."

"Get her permission first. Then we’ll talk. There’s an order to these things."

"A-Alright! I’ll return shortly!" Miguel nodded rapidly and spun around, practically bolting for the stairs as if afraid Ian might reconsider.

Ian did not spare him another glance.

"Great Warrior."

The two barbarian warriors who had lingered stubbornly among the retainers stepped forward at once.

"When you return, cause no trouble. Focus on rest and recovery. There must be no bloodshed during the councilor selection," said Ian.

"Yes. We will remember."

"We will obey."

Askel and Volber bowed their heads.

"Tell the elders as well," Ian continued. "Stability in the Snowfield and the North comes first. Not immediately, perhaps, but we will eventually be drawn into the civil war in the Central. I trust you would not want to lose the vanguard because you failed to keep your house in order."

Askel and Volber’s eyes widened. At his final remark, both nodded without hesitation.

"We would never endure such disgrace."

"We will rest to the best of our ability!"

There was no fear in their eyes—only anticipation.

Of course, Ian intended to avoid any grand, bloody war if he could.

"When the festival ends, help with the cleanup before returning. If any support is needed, divide it among yourselves and leave people behind as needed." He tilted his head toward the stairs to signal dismissal.

"Yes. We pray you fulfill your great mission safely."

"We will await your return in the Snowfield, Demigod."

With solemn faces, the two turned and headed down, bumping elbows as they went.

Honestly. They’re desperate not to miss a fight.

Ian clicked his tongue.

And here I am, trying to keep as many people alive as possible.

Ian shifted his gaze again. He had thought that was the last of it, but another presence approached from behind.

"I will take my leave as well, honored guest. I must check the horses."

It was Mukapa.

A softer smile touched Ian’s lips. "There’s no need to rush. It will take us time to reach the West."

"I intend to visit the guild before heading to the capital. I should prepare for the contingencies you mentioned."

"Well, in that case...." Ian nodded and drew a long glass vial from within his coat.

It had once held the Elixir of Life and the Essence of the Tree of Life.

"Use this as a token. Philip and Elie will recognize it immediately."

"Yes." Mukapa accepted it carefully with both hands.

At his left hip hung an additional sword, an Imperial steel blade tempered in sacred flame, his commission’s payment. Though he wore it as if it were weightless, it had originally been forged as a two-handed weapon.

Ian added quietly, "I’m counting on you, Mukapa."

"I will complete the task without fail, Your Grace." Mukapa bowed respectfully to the others as well, then turned and descended the stairs three at a time.

"A pity. He was truly reliable," said Nasser from behind.

Now, only their group remained in the hallway.

Thesaya snorted. "Reliable, sure. But he nitpicks everything. Considering what we’re about to do, it’s better he’s not here."

"Hmm. Fair point. That’s a surprisingly reasonable remark, Elder."

"Surprisingly? That phrasing is a bit strange..."

Ian let their bickering drift past him and turned around.

Mev, who had been waiting, stepped aside to clear the way. "Then it’s just our preparations left. Once we return, let’s check the equipment again, Ian. I’ll help."

"Good. Let’s do that." He nodded and walked past her.

They had gathered suitable gear from the armory. If anything failed to fit properly, it would need to be replaced before departure.

As Mev walked beside him down the hallway, Thesaya hurried up a beat later and asked, "So what’s this about, Ian?"

When he turned, she was watching him with teasing eyes. "The Prosthetic. I thought you’d refuse outright. You wanted to keep him glued to Sister’s side, didn’t you?"

"Well... I did. I still do." Ian answered easily.

And yet, ironically, that was precisely why he had changed his mind.

There was no guarantee that the ominous future he had seen would truly change. Perhaps it remained exactly as it was meant to be. It was time to make a different choice than usual.

"But after thinking about it, I figured we might end up short-handed later."

Of course, he had no intention of explaining it that way. The matter concerned all of them.

Thesaya tilted her head slightly. "Our party will be smaller, sure. But not lacking. We’ve got Half-Ear."

"I welcome Priest Miguel’s addition as well," Nasser added as he fell into step on Ian’s other side. "In any case, I believe I’ve sufficiently proven my competence as your retainer."

Ian exchanged a brief glance with Mev before continuing. "That may be true. But you and Sir Mev will split off midway."

"What?"

"Pardon?"

Thesaya and Nasser both looked up sharply.

"When we pass through the frontier, we’ll head to Orendel. Nasser," said Mev.

"To deliver His Grace’s intentions to the bastard king?" Nasser blinked once before asking.

Mev nodded. "Yes. It’s time to collect on the debt he owes Ian."

"After we’re done in the West, we’ll regroup near the magic tower," Ian added.

Nasser finally nodded in understanding.

Thesaya, eyes narrowed, muttered, "So you two just discussed it quietly between yourselves without telling us."

"When exactly was there time to tell you? You were out wandering and didn’t even come back." Ian snorted.

Mev turned to Thesaya with a faint, knowing smile. "Besides, you kept Ian’s plans secret from us too, didn’t you?"

"So this is revenge? Figures. Wouldn’t be the Apostle of Vengeance otherwise..." Thesaya let out a dry laugh, then shrugged. "Well, whatever. It works out. The Prosthetic is fun."

"And increasing both manpower and combat strength is welcome," Nasser added.

Ian inclined his head toward him. "We leave at dawn tomorrow. See the horses in advance. Go to Her Highness and confirm the carriage and supplies as well."

"Understood. Just when I was getting used to this cold..." muttered Nasser.

Thesaya’s voice slipped in, casual but intent, "Then I’ll rummage through the archduke’s vault a little more. There might be a hidden safe."

Ian gave her a look.

She continued without a trace of shame. "We still haven’t secured a proper Scroll of Correspondence. Honestly, that bald idiot was useless to the end."

She had already stripped Olaf’s private treasury clean. The only magical scrolls she had found were mismatched volumes exchanged with nobles in the Central—none forming a complete pair.

"Greedy as he was, hoarding piles of gold for nothing."

"I wouldn’t say for nothing," Nasser said with a faint laugh.

Thesaya currently wore a sapphire-studded gold necklace and several jeweled rings, all taken from Olaf’s vault.

That, more than anything, was why Ian couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him.

"They’re just pretty trinkets. Hardly something I’d call help."

Unaware that Ian had deliberately left them as emergency funds, Thesaya waggled her ring-laden fingers beside her face.

𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

Nasser let out another quiet laugh.

"There’s no need," Ian said, his gaze resting on the curved hallway ahead. "I think the guest we’ve been waiting for has arrived."

"

...Hmm

?"

Only then did Thesaya look forward as well. Her ears twitched, and a slow smile curved her lips.

"You’re right. Just like you predicted, Ian. He came to us first."

She had sensed the presence waiting beyond the corner. Whoever it was made no attempt to conceal it. A trace of magic lingered in the air, almost deliberately.

"It seems word has reached him that you’re leaving soon. He probably wants to strengthen ties with Your Grace before that happens," Nasser added.

Ian nodded lightly. The easiest way to extract something from a mage was to let them feel the loss first.

That was why he hadn’t approached them himself, despite needing a Scroll of Correspondence.

"Watch your words from here on," Mev whispered as she slowed behind him.

Thesaya and Nasser followed suit without prompting. Ian alone continued forward and turned the corner.

He slowed for a brief moment, feigning surprise.

At the same time, his gaze calmly assessed the mage waiting ahead.

An elderly man stood there, draped in a crimson hooded cloak. He was leaning on a rather impressive staff, his beard carefully groomed in a way that lent him a dignified air.

"Are you Duke Delmir?" Ian asked once their eyes met, narrowing one eye slightly.

The old man smiled. "It honors me that you recognize me, Your Grace. Allow me to properly introduce myself."

He bent in a courteous bow. "I am Delmir Bryce, Elder of the Red Magic Tower and former Court Mage of Travelga."