Chapter 49

Chapter 49

Chapter 49

“Do you not like what you are drinking?”

Marquis Eurys inquired, while taking small sips from a glass filled with vital fluid.

“Y-Yurys? What does this mean…?”

“Why are you overcome by such dread?”

Elizabeth’s countenance lost all color, turning as white as a canvas.

“Are you afraid of the end of your days?”

“I beg you…!”

“Please, dispel that fear.”

The ruler, tinged with a crimson hue, approached and pressed his lips against Elizabeth’s throat while she tried to struggle away desperately.

Crunch!

A pair of sharp teeth tore through her skin, avidly absorbing the liquid from within.

“The cessation of life constitutes a gift.”

Once the act was finished, Marquis Eurys stepped back.

“It is similar to petals that open with splendor only to then detach with grace.”

What remained in front of him had ceased to be a beautiful aristocrat; she was now a dehydrated remnant, resembling a mummy.

“Conversely, an existence devoid of an end is…”

Moving away from Elizabeth’s remains, the blood-toned aristocrat continued his speech.

“Absolutely empty, devoid of depth, and plagued by insignificance.”

Immersed in a profound desolation combined with a distorted delight.

“Like weeds destined never to bloom.”

He spoke those words in a whisper, with an attitude dominated by despondency.

Some time later, in the Duke of Saxony’s private study.

“Allow me to leave for the capital.”

“The risk is excessive.”

The Black Duke shook his head in refusal, firmly rejecting Dale’s bold proposal.

The Emperor’s missive praised the Saxon ruler’s actions against the advance of the dark hosts and extended an invitation to Dale to join the Red Tower Academy for the purpose of strengthening ties between both mystical institutions.

It was evident that Marquis Eurys’s strings were being pulled behind such a maneuver.

“Do you intend to march straight into the jaws of your enemy?”

“The descendant of Marquis Eurys also agreed to remain in the Black Tower as part of this pact.”

The offer coming from the Red Tower was presented under the guise of fair reciprocity.

“Since we are holding the successor of the Red Tower in our territory,” Dale continued explaining, “they will not dare to act impulsively.”

“Have you erased from your memory the assault perpetrated by the Purifiers?”

“If they dare to attempt against the successor of the Black Duke within the capital, specifically in the domains of the Red Tower, even the crimson lord will measure the impact of his actions.”

A move of that nature would unleash an all-out war that would drag in every one of the mystical factions and, presumably, the entirety of the imperial territory.

The death of the heir to the Black Tower would not represent an isolated event; it would imply that the rest of the organizations would also not be safe from the reach and ambitions of the Red Tower.

“Furthermore, the regime professes a deeper fear of you than of me, Father.”

At least currently.

“……”

Dale’s arguments possessed an undeniable logical basis. They were, in fact, perfect.

The empire could not bear the cost of eliminating Dale if that entailed an absolute conflict against the Saxon lineage. A situation of such magnitude would cause multiple feudal lords to rebel against the crown, not only the Saxon house.

“By that logic, how do you justify the aggression of the Purifiers?”

“It is likely that…” Dale suggested, “if their real goal had been my destruction, they would not have used only twelve Purifiers.”

“Certainly.”

“The Red Tower is only testing our reactions, Father.”

“A form of evaluation, according to you.”

The Black Duke let out a brief laugh, finding a certain irony in the matter.

In reality, Dale showed absolute coldness when examining the landscape. However, for a parent worried about the integrity of his descendant, maintaining equanimity was much more complex.

“Are you pursuing some hidden end in the center of the empire?”

“I wish to contemplate the sovereignty with my own eyes.”

Not limiting myself only to the northern regions or the Pontifical States.

“And since the Red Tower has initiated the hostilities, it is appropriate to return the gesture in the same coin.”

At the core of the court, challenging the Red Tower, pointed out as the executing arm of the sovereign’s will.

“… I find it difficult to decipher your true intentions.”

The Duke of Saxon showed a gesture of resignation to Dale’s approaches.

“My thoughts are dedicated to you, to me, and to the future of the Saxon family.”

Dale replied, maintaining the habitual tone that characterized his filial exchanges.

The imperial city and the Red Tower.

The crown’s educational institution, closely linked to the Red Tower, far exceeded the concept of a simple faction training center.

Its dimensions and study programs were peerless, shaping the most select strata of the kingdom and functioning as a territory for social relationships, as well as for fierce internal conflicts between the successors of the aristocracy.

Finishing studies in this facility and joining the ranks of the Red Tower represented a definitive triumph for the scions of the nobility.

The most brilliant minds of the nation converged in this space, where rivalry reached extreme levels. The method for obtaining the degree did not admit comparisons with other institutions. It was not enough to master the third level of magic; if the rigorous final evaluation of the Red Tower was not passed, graduation was unattainable.

It was precisely during the days leading up to that definitive evaluation when the most outstanding figure in the empire made his appearance: the tender successor of the Saxon dynasty.

Entering fully into the period of greatest rivalry within the institution.

Multiple annual periods had passed since the monarch had allowed himself to be seen by his subjects, maintaining strict isolation.

For this reason, when the young successor to the Saxon lineage arrived at the metropolis, a retinue escorted by the Night Raven knights of the Saxon house advanced along the main avenues, with the crown’s emissaries being in charge of offering the reception to Dale.

“You are welcome. We were awaiting your arrival.”

The group of aristocrats aligned with the sovereign, commanded by Marquis Eurys, displayed manners as deplorable as the plans they harbored within.

“The young leader of the Saxon house has completed an extremely exhausting journey!”

Those forced and complacent expressions were repulsive.

In the midst of that environment of falsehood, an individual with reddish hair fixed his attention on him. It was impossible not to recognize those features.

“… Marquis Eurys.”

“We have awaited your arrival, young leader of the Saxon lineage.”

That subject who exercised control over the Red Tower and who had earned the designation of blood-red Marquis.

An individual with the capacity to measure himself as an equal to Dale’s progenitor, the Black Duke, holding the title of the most imposing practitioner of the dark arts in the territory.

“It is a privilege to be in your presence.”

“A privilege? It is I who must show gratitude for having responded to my call.”

“I express my most sincere gratitude for the consideration of the regent of the Red Tower.”

“Stories of your interventions against the advance of the demons have reached my ears.”

Dale made a gesture of courtesy with total serenity, displaying education, which caused Marquis Eurys to show his teeth again.

“An admirable determination both in the realm of knowledge and on the battlefield! Your achievements resonate in the confines of the kingdom.”

“……”

Dale avoided uttering a single word immediately, maintaining absolute silence while remembering the dozen Purifiers who ambushed his mounted forces in the upper sector of the Saxon River.

The authorship belonged to this individual.

This character who established alliances with the dark forces, infiltrating his Red Tower operatives to surround Dale and the Night Raven knights of the Saxon house with flames.

He brought to his memory the fighters who lost their lives in the flames that day.

Subtly pressing his features, Dale maintained control of his emotions, camouflaging his contempt behind a facade of detachment.

“Each occasion when the stories about the intrepidity of the ‘Black Prince’ are disseminated, we are invaded by astonishment.”

“The stories often incorporate excessive elements.”

“Not at all.”

Marquis Eurys let out a laugh charged with irony, exposing his whitish and pointed teeth.

“The capabilities of the greatest prodigy of our land…! I long to contemplate what you are capable of within the educational facility.”

“Dale of Saxon, at the full disposal of the envoys of the throne.”

Accompanied by his faithful protector Veil and the elven practitioner of the mystical arts Sephia, Dale performed a formal salute.

Adopting the posture of a child devoid of malice, barely eleven years old, surrounded by a hostility that threatened to devour him completely.

The tender heir to the Saxon dynasty went to the mystical institution of the Red Tower under the premise of finalizing a bond of cooperation between the crimson and dark factions.

The news that he would be integrated directly into the upper echelon of the third level a few days before the final evaluation caused a great stir among the descendants of the nobility who lived there.

Dale, the small successor of the Saxon lineage.

At only eleven years of age, he had reached the third mystical level and passed the challenges of the sacred building, exceeding twenty stages. Likewise, the virtues of the “Black Prince” went beyond magical arts. He showed tactical vision and physical capacity suitable for leading the Black-White Rotation to triumph, containing the incursion of the demonic hosts, and taking down an orc commander, establishing himself as the most brilliant talent in the territory.

The aristocratic students belonging to the institution knew the renown of the Black Prince perfectly well, a recurring topic among those fond of corridor gossip.

And such a situation was extremely uncomfortable for them.

The most select sector of the academy. A space that concentrated the most gifted scions of the aristocracy, marking the beginning of their trajectories as first-order specialists.

The self-esteem of the members of this facility was enormous.

From their point of view, the feats attributed to Dale lacked veracity, considering them stories inflated beyond what was logical.

No matter how much he was pointed out as the successor to the Black Tower, he was still an eleven-year-old child. Was it believable that someone from the cold and remote regions of the north, associated with the Black Tower, possessed true mastery over the third level of magic? And even if it were the case, would it be an advance based on daily effort? How many turns would his mystical core be able to execute? Surely it would not even reach a hundred revolutions per minute.

The evaluations of the sacred structure must have followed a similar pattern. With total certainty, he enjoyed special prerogatives due to his condition as a descendant of the regent of the Black Tower. And the testimonies about his success in the Black and White Rotation together with the halt to the demonic advance? It was most likely that those victories had been executed by the warriors of the Saxon house.

There was no doubt that it was fame magnified for the purpose of exhibiting and raising the status of the Saxon dynasty.

This position prevailed among the bulk of the students at the center. In fact, it constituted the only explanation their minds tolerated.

For those spirits full of vanity, admitting Dale’s skills meant assimilating a destructive reality they preferred to avoid.

If, in contrast, the assertions regarding the capabilities of the “Black Prince” were true… then the effort of their entire lives would be eclipsed by the conditions of an eleven-year-old child.

The self-love that defined them as the select group of the crown was in danger.

Therefore, validating the conditions of the “Black Prince” meant stripping themselves of their own merit, and it did not take too long for that pride to begin to crack.