# Chapter 154
—
**Arcane.**
The first planned economic city, born from the gathering of the Empire, the continental allied kingdoms, and even minority tribes.
It was said that every person and every resource of the continent would pass through Arcane at least once. But upon this vast commercial city, a heavy darkness had fallen.
Five years ago, the Empire’s most powerful house, **Dormund**, launched a sudden invasion.
Arcane lost the war against them—and surrendered.
“Tsk tsk… of all places, it had to be Dormund.”
“Even Arcane can’t survive if it’s Dormund they’ve fallen to.”
“Once they make a colony of you, Dormund sucks you dry right down to your marrow….”
The people’s fears proved exactly right.
Cain Dormund, having succeeded in occupying the city, first moved to block every single passage leading into Arcane.
For a planned economic city, this was more devastating than any sanction.
But apart from the citizens of Arcane themselves, no one dared voice their outrage. For there was, at least in appearance, a reason behind Dormund’s harsh measure.
“I heard Cain Dormund’s eldest son, Ian Dormund, suffered a grave accident in Arcane?”
“…Not just an accident—he was killed.”
“I heard the same! While on assignment in Arcane, he was cut down by some mysterious swordsman!”
The Empire’s next-generation sword.
The heir who would one day succeed Cain Dormund as de facto ruler of the Empire.
The eldest son, most trusted and most beloved by Cain himself—Ian Dormund.
He had met his end in Arcane.
Objectively, his death was unrelated to Arcane.
He had acted independently in a military operation and died in the course of it.
But what grieving father would make such a rational distinction?
Cain Dormund unleashed his rage upon Arcane.
He enforced brutal colonial policies, driving the lives of its citizens into misery.
Some nations, unable to endure the sight, raised objections. But Cain Dormund never stopped.
> \[Any who obstruct me will meet the same fate as Arcane.]
That declaration—more threat than warning—snuffed out all resistance.
And so, as time flowed on, Arcane, once the symbol of freedom, was corrupted into a city of death.
A ghost city where life and hope had perished.
That was Arcane’s present.
When the city of freedom had long since become only a memory, a strange rumor spread across the continent:
> \[A new Sword Master has liberated Arcane.]
Utter nonsense.
Yet, as rumors do, it spread quickly, heedless of truth. And as it spread, embellishments were added:
> \[The return of the legendary mercenary.]
> \[The duke’s heir, back after seven years.]
> \[The mysterious swordsman who slew Ian Dormund.]
Every one of them ridiculous.
But truth was never what mattered.
With rumors, what mattered was not fact, but how thrilling the story was.
And this rumor—stirring the continent for the first time in years—was exceedingly thrilling.
People took it up as tavern talk, and soon the tale twisted further:
> \[The heir of House Bayern has returned to punish Dormund.]
A story utterly disconnected from the truth.
But as always, no one cared.
Rumors only ever needed to be exciting.
—
—
Angelina could not hold back the surge within her.
“…Waaaahhh—!!!”
“Arcane! Arcane!”
“Liberation… we are liberated…!”
“At last, freedom has come back to Arcane!”
Under the sky that had split apart, the citizens of Arcane shouted.
The sight, more majestic than any novel could depict, brought her to tears.
“Ahh…”
A sigh escaped her lips as the long burden pressing on her heart finally lifted.
Arcane—conquered by Dormund.
And in the process leading there, her own choice had played a great part.
*As mayor, I should have endured to the end. But it was I who first surrendered to them.*
At the time, she had thought it the right choice.
The long war with Dormund.
The betrayal of the back-alley power, the pirates.
Citizens dying in droves, the incessant threats and coercions from all sides.
Even as a great mage—one who had reached the realm of Archmage—when such conditions piled atop one another, her spirit finally broke.
Unable to make a sound judgment, Angelina accepted Dormund’s offer of surrender, hoping to save at least a few more of Arcane’s citizens.
And she gave up her magic by her own hand.
For Cain Dormunt, conscious of her power as an Archmage, had demanded that very condition as the price of peace.
It was, of course, absurd.
If the end of a swordsman’s path was Sword Master, then the end of a mage’s path was Archmage.
A summit attained only by the chosen few, who held all knowledge.
To abandon it all was no different from becoming a cripple.
But for Arcane’s sake, Angelina surrendered the knowledge she had trained a lifetime to reach.
*I had already thrown everything away for Arcane.*
Adding magic to that loss hardly made a difference.
And the moment she laid down everything of herself—Arcane’s true darkness began.
*Cain Dormund… from the start, his goal wasn’t surrender, but my magic.*
With her power gone, Dormund had nothing left to fear in ruling Arcane.
That was why Kane had so persistently demanded her magic as part of the terms.
And the price for failing to see through his ploy was terrible.
All Arcane was ravaged, shackles and screams replacing freedom.
Her choice for Arcane had driven Arcane into hell.
*My mistake was not trusting the citizens of Arcane to the end. If only I had trusted them…*
Then perhaps these seven years might have unfolded differently.
With that thought, Angelina lifted her head.
“Donn—! Donn—!”
“The legendary mercenary, Donn!”
“The man who saved Arcane—the pride of our city!”
The citizens shouted his name with voices brimming with power.
Watching them, Angelina slowly nodded.
*If only I had trusted them a little more, things would surely have been different.*
With that conviction, she rose to her feet.
Though one chapter had ended, the present was far from over.
“The… the Governor…”
“Dead?”
“Killed—by some nameless swordsman?”
Hundreds of the search police still survived.
And great storms still lay ahead.
There was no time yet for rest.
*Once this is all finished, I will atone for my sins.*
Angelina gathered her thoughts, then cried out with force:
“Comrades of the Rebellion!”
“…!”
Her voice rolled through the square, silencing the cheers.
“The situation is not over yet!”
“…!”
“The search police—no, the pirates who gnawed at Arcane—are still alive!”
Her words made the rebels’ eyes blaze, while the pirates who had sunk in despair gaped.
Then, with firm voice, Angelina declared:
“From this moment, we will hunt down every last one of those traitorous vermin who betrayed Arcane! This is my final order as commander of the Rebellion!”
The pirates, dazed and slack-jawed, reeled in horror.
*Sh-she’s mad—!*
*We’re screwed!*
*If they catch us, we’re dead—!*
As fear seized them, memories of their past crimes came flooding back.
Panicked, the pirates began to edge backward.
With the Governor dead, the search police meant nothing.
Survival now depended on each for himself.
As a few quick-witted pirates tried to slip away, a wall appeared that hadn’t been there before.
Startled, they turned their heads—and saw thousands of citizens, shoulder to shoulder, blocking their path.
The pirates blinked in disbelief. Then the wall of citizens spoke in one grim voice:
“And where do you think you’re going, boys?”
The pirates’ mouths fell open.
—
—
Under Angelina’s leadership, Arcane’s rebels quickly dismantled the governor’s office, bereft of its commander.
Many incidents occurred in the process, but Arthur no longer intervened.
*The rest belongs to the rebels. This isn’t where I should be.*
There was only one place he belonged now—by a certain person’s side.
Carrying a basket of fruit, Arthur opened the door to a hospital room.
On the bed lay an old man. Arthur couldn’t help but smile.
“Sir Willet. I’ve come.”
At Arthur’s words, Willet turned his head.
His face, more lined than seven years before, brightened with a faint smile.
“Apples?”
“Yes. You said you wanted some, so I brought them.”
“Good. Come here.”
Arthur moved closer and sat before him.
Willet, sitting up against the headboard, asked, “You’re not busy?”
“Me?”
“Yes. They must be calling you from all sides.”
Arthur shrugged.
“They are, but… it doesn’t appeal to me.”
“Why not?”
“Because that’s not where I belong. So I politely refused, and came here instead.”
Willet chuckled.
“If others heard that, they’d feel slighted.”
“…Would they?”
“Of course. You’re the legendary mercenary who saved Arcane, after all.”
Arthur scratched his head.
“That’s what I find strange. I never saved Arcane—so why do they call me that?”
Willet clicked his tongue, about to chide him, but then froze.
A dull pain throbbed in his chest, spreading to his head.
He bore it silently, recalling the words his physician had spoken days ago:
*…I’m truly sorry, sir. We did our best, but… there’s nothing more we can do.*
Willet sank into silence, weighed by the memory.
Arthur tilted his head, puzzled.
“Sir? What’s wrong?”
Shaken from his thoughts, Willet raised his head.
For a long moment, he gazed at Arthur. Then, slowly, he spoke.
“…Arthur Bayern.”
“Yes?”
“May I ask you a favor?”
Arthur’s eyes widened.
Willet, rising from his sickbed, murmured:
“There is a place I wish to see… Will you take me there?”
—
—
Arthur carried Willet across Arcane.
The old man slowly took in the sights, murmuring, “Is it not a beautiful city?”
“Arcane?” Arthur asked.
“Yes. Beautiful indeed. In all my life, I’ve never seen such a place.”
Arthur chuckled.
“Maybe because you’ve never been anywhere else?”
“…And what age do you think I am?”
“I don’t know. Didn’t you never tell me?”
“Hmm. Did I not?”
“You didn’t.”
“I’ve passed my fifties.”
“Oh? But not yet sixty?”
“Correct. Not sixty yet.”
Their idle chatter carried them beyond Arcane’s borders.
Arthur did not stop walking, for Willet’s sudden request had been for a place on Arcane’s outskirts.
After a long while, the sun began to sink.
As the sky blushed red, Arthur halted.
Willet, fighting drowsiness, naturally lifted his gaze forward.
A vast lake stretched before them.
Smiling faintly, Willet asked, “Set me down here.”
Arthur carefully lowered him.
Seated, Willet gazed at the lake glowing in the sunset, and murmured,
“Is it not lovely? This is Lake Eldium, the largest near Arcane.”
Arthur nodded.
“It is beautiful. But… do you have business here, sir?”
“Business… Hmm. Yes, you could say that. For this is a grave.”
Arthur blinked.
“A grave?”
Instead of answering, Willet unfastened the bundle on his back.
Arthur’s eyes widened at what emerged.
“Wait—that’s liquor?”
Willet chuckled, shaking the bottle of whiskey in his hand.
“Let’s drink. You’re of age now, aren’t you?”
Arthur’s lips curled upward.
“Oh-ho. So you’re finally teaching me how to drink, after seven years?”
Willet nodded.
“Count yourself honored. You’re about to learn drinking from Arcane’s greatest lover of spirits.”
Arthur’s eyes sparkled with anticipation.
—
