A Journey Unwanted

[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: Heart Kingdom]

[Pulchritudo]

"Whoa, it’s already past midnight, and there are still this many people at the banquet?" Gretel mused, staring down at the Duke’s sprawling estate from the rooftop perch where she stood beside Mikoto. The hour had grown late enough that most sensible people would have retired for the night, yet the estate below remained almost as lively as when they had first arrived. "I honestly thought we’d be seeing people leave by now."

The estate was spread out in the distance beneath them, its many windows and courtyards glowing with light. Lanterns and other sources of illumination outlined the grand architecture, turning the entire property into a bright island in the darkness. Figures continued to move through the courtyards, while others remained gathered within the main building. Even from this distance, Gretel could make out the occasional movement of servants and guests.

There was no obvious decline.

If anything, the banquet seemed stubbornly determined to continue until morning.

"A lot of people have a lot of time to waste," Mikoto said idly.

His arms remained folded across the black armor covering his torso, the thick gauntlets resting against one another as his red eyes remained fixed on the estate. There was no irritation in his expression, nor fascination with the spectacle below.

Gretel glanced at him before looking back toward the estate.

"But what are we supposed to do about the Royal Guard?" she asked after a moment. Her hand briefly moved to the rapier at her hip, adjusting its position before letting her fingers fall away. "I mean, they’re not given that position for no reason, you know? They’re supposed to be the elite of the elite. Kind of like Mortifers, except probably even more specialized."

She hesitated, her silver eyes narrowing toward the distant estate.

"I’m not exactly sure how you’re supposed to beat someone who has been chosen to stand directly beside the Queen."

"If you’re already scared, then leave."

Mikoto’s response was immediate and flat.

Gretel turned her head toward him.

"Come on. You can’t blame me for being cautious." She gave a small sigh, her shoulders dropping slightly. "The last time I fought a Mortifer, I got humiliated. I’m not exactly eager to casually pick a fight with someone who might be just as strong or stronger."

Mikoto’s gaze remained forward.

"I thought Mortifers were ranked," he murmured, considering the matter. "If that’s the case, there should be a considerable difference between one Mortifer and another depending on their rank. So comparing one of them to a Royal Guard doesn’t tell us much."

"Well, I’m not entirely sure how their rankings work either," Gretel admitted. "But every one I’ve heard of is strong enough that I wouldn’t want to underestimate them. Suffice to say, if a Royal Guard were equal to even the weakest Mortifer, they’d still be quite strong."

Mikoto fell silent.

He turned the information over carefully rather than responding immediately.

("That guy is a mage.") His expression remained thoughtful. ("I have a decent idea of the Lex Caelorum and its tiers of magic from when I was under Koschei. But that geezer didn’t use much magic. He was far too reliant on his immortality.")

His eyes narrowed slightly as he recalled the Royal Guard.

("This Hermes guy seems different. Much more experienced.")

Mikoto’s beautiful features remained composed as his thoughts continued.

("This universe’s magic system seems more organized than what I’m used to, but at the end of the day, the system I use and this one originate from the same place.")

His gaze remained fixed on the estate.

("So overwhelming power should probably be enough for someone like him. And if it isn’t, I can adapt.")

There was no arrogance in the thought; it was simply how he viewed himself.

("No one’s better than me when it comes to magic.")

He finally turned his attention toward Gretel.

"Just decide whether you’re in or not," Mikoto spat, his tone making it clear he had little patience for further hesitation.

Gretel blinked at him before a small smile appeared.

"Well, my conscience dictates that I can’t exactly leave you to deal with it alone," she teased. "That would probably make you sad, wouldn’t it?"

"Shut up."

Mikoto lifted one of his heavily armored hands.

The gauntlet looked cumbersome enough that Gretel expected the gesture to be rough, but his touch was unexpectedly light. He placed the armored hand gently against her shoulder.

Then the world changed with no warning.

One moment Gretel was standing atop the building beneath the night sky, looking down over the illuminated estate.

The next, the darkness was simply gone.

So was the height and the distant view of the enormous estate.

Gretel blinked once.

Her surroundings snapped into place around her, the sudden displacement leaving her momentarily disoriented. She instinctively shifted her footing, her hand moving toward her rapier before she recognized the enclosed surroundings.

Her eyes widened slightly.

"The vault."

She looked around, then shook her head once as the last traces of disorientation faded.

"That was quick. Really quick. Magic really is convenient when you know what you’re doing."

"I suppressed our presence from the wards," Mikoto explained, retracting his gauntleted hand from her shoulder. "They won’t recognize us as intruders unless we give them a reason to."

He glanced toward the surrounding displays.

"But don’t be an idiot and start touching everything just because something looks interesting."

Gretel turned toward him, her expression immediately becoming exaggeratedly offended.

"I’m not a little kid, you know." She folded her arms and gave him an exaggerated pout.

Mikoto’s red eyes rested on her for a moment.

"You are an idiot, though," Mikoto said without hesitation, finally tearing his gaze away from her exaggerated pout. He turned and began moving farther into the vault, apparently deciding that Gretel’s wounded expression was not worth acknowledging.

"Hey!"

Gretel’s protest followed him immediately.

Mikoto did not even slow down.

Gretel gave him a brief, incredulous stare before hurrying after him, her footsteps becoming quicker as she caught up and fell into step besides him. She remained close enough to speak without raising her voice, but her attention soon drifted away from Mikoto and towards the collection surrounding them.

The vault seemed even more impressive now that they were properly moving through it.

Every few paces revealed another display. Jewelry rested beneath protective glass, weapons had been mounted with obsessive care, and pieces of armor stood on individual fixtures as though they were works of art rather than equipment meant to be worn.

Gretel’s eyes wandered from one display to another.

She was careful not to touch anything.

Mostly because Mikoto had just warned her not to.

"There are more wards in place," Mikoto idly noted.

His gaze moved across the room as they walked, red eyes, following the invisible structures layered throughout the vault. He did not need to stop to examine them. The wards were simply there, part of the environment as far as he was concerned.

Gretel followed his gaze for a moment, though she could not see nearly as much as he could.

"I suppose that makes sense," she said thoughtfully. "After we disappeared almost immediately after seeing the vault, the Duke would have had every reason to assume we’d been planning to steal something."

She glanced around again.

"Especially considering we were practically strangers who suddenly vanished after being shown his private collection. If I were him, I’d probably come to the same conclusion."

"You’re sharp when you’re not being a fool," Mikoto remarked.

Gretel looked towards him.

For a moment she seemed to consider whether she had heard him correctly.

Then a small, satisfied smile appeared.

"I’m only going to take the compliment part of that sentence," she said, sounding almost smug about it. "The rest can be discarded."

Mikoto did not respond.

He simply continued walking, allowing Gretel to enjoy her tiny victory without bothering to take it away from her.

His attention eventually settled on a particular display.

He slowed and then stopped.

Gretel took another step before noticing that he was no longer besides her. She turned back.

Mikoto was standing before a horizontally mounted weapon; it was a lance. At first glance, there was little about it that seemed remarkable. Its shaft was silver, and its design was comparatively simple when placed besides some of the more extravagant weapons in the collection. There were no elaborate jewels, excessive ornamentation or any obvious attempt to make it look grand.

But strange ruins ran along the length of its shaft.

They were subtle enough that someone could easily mistake them for decorative engravings.

Mikoto did not.

("More like a lance.")

His thought was dismissive; his gaze lingered on the weapon for another moment. Then his right arm moved, his thick gauntlet shot forward and smashed directly through the protective glass.

The sharp crack sounded through the vault.

Gretel visibly flinched.

Before she could even properly react, Mikoto’s armored hand had already closed around the lance. His grip tightened, and with one clean movement he pulled the weapon free of its display.

The empty fixture remained behind him as Gretel stared at him and then at the shattered glass, then back at him.

"I thought you just told me not to do anything that would get us recognized as intruders."

Mikoto looked at her; his expression remained composed.

"That warning was mainly aimed at you."

Gretel’s mouth opened slightly; she stared at him for another second, seemingly trying to decide whether she should be offended.

Mikoto had already turned his attention back to the lance.

His red eyes travelled slowly along the weapon, examining the strange ruins engraved across its shaft.

("Hm.") His expression became more focused. ("It’s in an unawakened state, it looks like.") His fingers shifted slightly around the weapon as he considered it. ("I doubt that lard-ass even knows its true potential.")

There was something disappointing about the realization. Bluebeard had apparently kept the weapon because it looked valuable, unusual, or impressive enough to justify its place among the rest of his treasures.

But Mikoto could see that the weapon was something else entirely.

("He probably thought it was just another pretty thing for his collection.")

Gretel leaned slightly closer, careful not to touch the weapon.

"So this is what Goiim wanted." Her silver eyes studied the lance for several seconds. She tilted her head, examining the strange markings running along its shaft. "Barring those ruins, it really does look ordinary. I mean, it’s certainly well-made, but compared to everything else in here, it doesn’t exactly scream ’legendary artifact’."

Mikoto did not bother correcting her; instead, something changed in the weapon.

A small red glow appeared along its surface, spreading across the silver lance before becoming brighter for only a brief moment.

Gretel’s eyes widened as the glow vanished, the lance itself dissolved into countless tiny motes of red light. They scattered through the air for an instant before disappearing completely.

Gretel blinked; she looked at the empty space where the weapon had been.

"What’d you do with it?"

Mikoto’s answer came without hesitation.

"I put it in the fourth dimension."

Gretel stared at him; there was a long enough silence for her expression to settle into resigned confusion.

"...Cool."

She decided that she was not going to open that particular can of worms.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!