(19) Cease, Please

“Bolide!” Redra called through gritted teeth.

Three small balls of fire appeared, none larger than her thumb, and began orbiting her head. She smiled in satisfaction. It was not the most impressive Bolide ever cast, but it was successful—

“Gah!” she gasped, falling to her hands and knees as the fireballs winked out like embers from an extinguished fire.

“Ha! Experience really is a better teacher than I’ll ever be. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell ya that having enough mana for spell activation alone isn’t enough. You’ll learn it best when you overestimate yourself and eat shit,” Esmerelda chuckled, her mouth full of sandwich.

Redra sighed, always taken aback by the differences between the Esmerelda that society saw and the one she knew.

Of course, Redra was well aware that Bollide required a continuous mana investment until all the fireballs were expended, but she had not expected it to be this extreme. The maintenance cost should be the least mana-intensive. It took far more to both create the fireballs and then launch them, yet she could not even manage that.

“Ah, don’t sweat it, kid. You’re eighteen, and that’s tier four magic. The fact that you can cast it at all is plenty impressive enough,” Esmerelda said, licking her fingers as she strode over.

“Not for me, not for my standards,” Redra gasped between breaths.

“That confidence or pride talking? One of those is fine; the other is deadly,” Esmerelda lectured, suddenly serious.

“I know what I am capable of. I simply refuse any pride until I actually accomplish my goal,” Redra replied, standing straight and consciously slowing her breathing.

Contrary to what her name might suggest, Esmerelda was a tall woman with fire-red hair and matching eyes, equally attention-grabbing. Contrary to what those looks might suggest, she was not a pyromancer, specifically—a true enigma.

She was skilled in many branches of magic, evidenced by her Archmage class, offered to only top-tier casters, not to mention being specifically selected for the princess’s magical education.

“Well, do what you want. My job’s just to teach you magic. Everything else I’m doing for free,” she replied with a shrug, her gravitas evaporating in an instant.

Redra dusted her hands against her pants, turning as she heard the door open. This was the practice room for the royal family, specifically, not just a palace training hall. Someone important would be coming through the door if it opened without announcement.

Her brother, Rodward, the First Prince of Sardvend, entered, followed by Morwynn, surprisingly.

“Wynn!” Redra chirped, running over to embrace her.

“Good to see you, your highness,” Wynn replied, stiff and formal—likely due to her brother’s presence.

“She was waiting in the hall, so I grabbed her on my way,” Rodward said with a smile. “The timing is good. Father asked me to lead you to his study.”

Redra’s smile fell, and she studied her brother.

“Ser Richard is going to attempt another divination?” she asked.

“The big one, this time,” Rodward said, nodding.

Redra hooked her arm in Wynn’s, ferrying her out into the hall. Rodward exited behind them and hurried to take the lead, with Esmerelda bringing up the rear.

“Divination? Not simple scrying?” Wynn asked quietly.

“Ser Richard has tried scrying many times. He has been unable to get through thus far. Sounds like father has decided a more drastic measure is required,” Redra whispered back.

“Something worth using such powerful magic, previous scrying failing…that must mean—” Wynn reasoned.

“The Pillar, yes. We are trying to deduce why it vanished,” Redra said, sending Wynn a pointed look.

As expected, she immediately perked up, more than idle curiosity could explain.

“Oh, are you interested in the Pillar’s disappearance, perhaps?” Redra teased. “You know, it is rare that you come to visit me. Typically, it is the other way around. What circumstances could have changed the dynamic? Were you, perhaps, looking for an opportunity to sail to Ashreach?”

Wynn reddened noticeably, releasing Redra’s arm to fiddle with her bun, which had not a hair out of place.

“I simply thought—” she started.

Rodward stopped abruptly, turning toward the girls with a finger to his lips. They had arrived at the king’s study, and he rapped twice on the door before announcing himself.

“Enter,” the king commanded.

Redra had already switched to the most proper posture she knew, and Wynn stood straight, hands held perfectly even at her sides. Redra counted seven people clustered around his private office, themselves included. There was the king, his chancellor, his information minister, Rodward, who was functionally the marshal of the kingdom, Redra, Wynn, and Esmerelda.

Redra noticed a slight tell from Wynn: she was surprised to see the information minister, which was understandable. The position sounded, and indeed was, on paper, a bureaucratic one, concerned with kingdom logistics. However, Redra did not need explicit confirmation from her father or brother to recognize the spymaster for what he was.

An eighth member followed behind them, Ser Richard presenting with ostentatious robes of white and gold. His own white hair stood out against the more cream-colored robes, and his sharp green eyes threw the whole ensemble out of alignment, to Redra’s eye. However, the display of wealth was likely more important than the fashion.

Stolen novel; please report.

Ser Richard had been present for all the previous scrying, but his finery today signaled that he was not present as ‘a palace diviner’ but the grand visier. His role was less defined than most, but it generally boiled down to being the head consultant on all matters esoteric.

“Ser Richard, thank you for joining us. I see Knight Morwynn as well. Bold of you to bring her to a closed council without consulting me first, but I would have agreed anyway. I will not fault my son for knowing his old man’s thoughts,” the king chuckled.

Rodward nodded, wearing a slight smile, which was about as much emotion as could be expected from him.

Redra knew her father’s thoughts, too. Morwynn was set on following her father’s footsteps and becoming the retainer for the hero, when—not if—she returned. However, most in the kingdom suspected the hero was long gone, including the king. He had been warming to the idea of Morwynn becoming Redra’s personal retainer instead.

The two already got along famously, and Morwynn’s lineage was, without question, one of the most respected and accomplished in the kingdom. None would object, and it would be a significant deterrent to both ne’er-do-wells and nobles alike who might try nefarious things with Redra to advance their own positions.

Whether Wynn herself would accept that position seemed less than an afterthought to him, but Redra was only going to cross that bridge when they arrived at it.

“Thank you for your time, your majesty,” Ser Richard said, bowing.