Since venturing out into the world, Turan had received marriage offers on several occasions—from the lord of Orem City to Asiz's mother, Midella, and the various influential lords here in the Gray Zone.

Why had he turned down every one of those proposals? In part, binding himself to a single house would have been a waste of his natural talents. More importantly, marriage was not something to be decided for political advantage.

Marriage was a sacred covenant between two people who loved each other. That belief, instilled in him by his mother as a child, remained unchanged even after everything he had seen and learned on his travels.

"Wouldn't the Zahar House Head's granddaughter be a fairly close relative of mine to begin with?"

"You would be second cousins. Isn't that distant enough?"

Indeed, marriages between first cousins were not especially uncommon in ordinary wizard houses. Wizards with noble-caliber mana were born so rarely that finding powerful partners for one another was difficult.

Of course, they only did so out of necessity; even wizards had a rather dim view of marrying close relatives. Maysa had not bristled for nothing when Solif pointed out that she and Turan were related.

"I appreciate the offer, but I must decline."

"You don't seem particularly appreciative."

Despite the rejection, Talis showed no displeasure. His face remained expressionless, only his eyes moving as though searching the man opposite him.

"My proposal angered you a little just now. Why? Because the relative I suggested was too close? No, that's not it. Do you perhaps attach some great significance to taking a wife? Ah, so that's it."

He asked questions and reached the answers himself without even waiting for a response. It was almost uncanny to watch.

Realizing that Talis had read his emotions through his scent, Turan frowned. He often did the same himself, but being on the receiving end felt unpleasantly like having his skin turned inside out for inspection.

"I thought you were the same sort as me. The Zahar of Enril. The cruelest, most cunning, most merciless breed in the world."

"Do you believe bloodline determines personality?"

"At least among nobles, there seems to be some truth to it. Surely you have some idea yourself? Our inborn bloodlines affect even our souls... our very essence."

Though Talis's words offended him, Turan could not help agreeing to some extent. His own innate ability to kill and torture anyone he deemed an enemy without a shred of remorse was, after all, typical of a Zahar noble.

The fact that bloodline symbols appeared in one's spirit form meant, in a sense, that bloodlines influenced the soul—the very essence of a human being.

"Well, it's rather interesting that we have our differences. I suppose a grandfather and grandson share only a quarter of their blood. Though our faces look absurdly alike, considering."

Unlike before, Talis was now smiling broadly, as though delighted to have found a weakness in Turan. Yet he gave off none of the scent characteristic of someone who was pleased. That, too, meant he was wearing a mask.

'How unpleasant.'

Only then did Turan understand the discomfort he had felt both during their earlier encounter, when he had been disguised, and throughout this conversation. It was the instinctive revulsion felt when two people of serpentine nature met—people who could only feel secure by using every means available to read others and maintain an advantage in information.

After briefly gathering his thoughts, Turan answered with a faint smile to match Talis's.

"You've read me accurately. That's right. I want to devote myself to one partner, someone with whom I can share genuine love."

"I seem to remember Karim saying something similar once. Perhaps you take after him."

At the sudden mention of his father's name, Turan hastily tried to meditate and calm his emotions. From their previous encounter in Karmine, he knew that the man before him had murdered his father.

To conceal that knowledge, he had to disperse the hostility welling up inside him somehow. Fortunately, his mental training had not been in vain: he slipped fully into meditation before that hostility could reveal itself.

Having swiftly emptied himself of emotion, he put on an air of deliberate composure and allowed only mild curiosity to show on his face.

"I've been meaning to ask about my father someday. What sort of person was he?"

"I'm ashamed to say I didn't know him well enough to tell you much. He was merely one of my many children. I did know he was sentimental, which rather ill suited that perpetually sullen face. Looking back, he wasn't very Zahar-like at all. If only he hadn't lost his life in the war with Arabion."

Although he was speaking of the son he had killed himself, Talis wore a tender expression, as though yearning for someone lost. There seemed little need to wonder where Turan had inherited his acting talent.

After exchanging a few more words to change the mood, Turan voiced the idea he had organized in his head.

"To return to the matter at hand, let's begin with my meeting the young lady."

"Meeting her?"

"If you send the young lady you mentioned here, I will court her in earnest. If we develop feelings for each other, we can establish the family ties you proposed."

"That sounds to me like you intend to get out of your present predicament and change your tune later."

Talis had struck precisely at the truth, but Turan replied without the slightest change of expression.

"Surely you couldn't expect a loveless marriage to bind me in any meaningful way. I won't be living in the Enril Desert, so I could simply discard my wife or children if necessary."

"Hmm."

"But as I just told you, I take marriage and my partner seriously. Precisely because I won't decide lightly, a bond formed after we have properly gotten to know each other will be that much stronger. And Zahar will have someone serving as its eyes and ears within a force it considers threatening."

As Turan said, his proposal was not entirely to Zahar's disadvantage. Once they had someone inside, she could gather all manner of information during her stay, even if the marriage never came to pass.

"Ah, one thing. It goes without saying, but someone of 'your sort' is out of the question."

Naturally, Turan meant a god's vessel. Talis immediately shook his head.

"She is not."

"That's a relief."

"But what will you do about the other young lady?"

"Who do you mean?"

"Don't play ignorant. The young lady from Arabion. Your relationship seems to be more than ordinary friendship. Nor does it seem entirely one-sided."

He knew that, yet had the gall to propose a marriage anyway? Inwardly clicking his tongue in disbelief, Turan delivered the answer he had prepared.

"As you said, Grandfather, I am a cunning and merciless Zahar. I know what must take priority, and what I must cut away if necessary."

Silence fell over the office. Only a covert struggle continued: Talis used sight and smell to try to decipher Turan's intentions, while Turan remained as unresponsive as a stone statue.

After a moment, Talis tapped a fingernail against the desk and spoke.

"How many escorts may she bring?"

* * *

Several dozen minutes later, the two returned to the meeting room and informed the waiting nobles of Zahar and Kalamap of the outcome: they would sign a nonaggression pact on the condition that the Zahar House Head's granddaughter come to Kalamap in person to court Turan.

The two groups were thrown into confusion for different reasons.

First, several Zahar nobles looked displeased at the prospect of a nonaggression pact founded not on marriage but merely on courtship with marriage in mind—a condition whose binding force was dubious at best. Hadn't the other party already admitted to killing Alma, one of Zahar's heirs?

Rather than ordering the death of the man who had killed their heir, they were sending him the House Head's granddaughter almost as tribute. For a great house of such renown, the terms were downright humiliating.

Unexpectedly, however, more of them supported these flimsy terms than opposed them.

"I'm in favor."

"Nouvelle, you... Is this because you think it has nothing to do with you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. You're the one who should consider the house's interests instead of airing your personal feelings."

The supporter of Rahman, Zahar's sole remaining heir, raised his chin brazenly as he spoke. To his faction, securing a nonaggression pact between Turan and Zahar was imperative.

'If we oppose him and he submits and joins the house... Lord Rahman won't stand a chance. We have to keep him outside the house for now.'

Indeed, even his slaughter of Alma and her followers had ultimately benefited Rahman. They had reason to feel favorably toward him, not hostile. They would be satisfied as long as he remained an independent power until Rahman became House Head.

Nor did they need to worry that marrying the House Head's granddaughter might allow him to build a power base within Zahar—not when they considered his prospective bride's background.

While Zahar's nobles worked through their calculations, every noble on Kalamap's side watched one woman warily.

"Hmm."

"Well, this is..."

In truth, from the standpoint of Kalamap's interests, the terms Turan had secured were so generous as to be practically free. He was not tying himself down through immediate marriage, merely entering a courtship that could be broken off at a suitable time. And while the Zahar House Head's granddaughter stayed in Kalamap, they would effectively have a hostage.

The problem was that everyone knew Turan already had someone who was virtually his partner. Maysa Arabion, the auburn-haired woman at the center of everyone's attention, wore no expression.

It was not the sort of blank look that suggested she was thinking of nothing; rather, her face seemed stripped of emotion, like a doll's. After a silence broken only by uneasy murmurs and hesitant voices, she spoke.

"They're good terms. Aren't they?"

Naturally, no one chimed in to agree.

After the two sides finished their discussions, they set about putting the nonaggression pact in writing.

There were no intricate traps hidden among the clauses, as there might have been in a treaty between commoners. Contracts between nobles rested on the honor and dignity they had built up; if they chose to break one by force, there was no authority to pass judgment on them anyway.

Once the document had been drawn up and signed, Talis clasped Turan's hand and spoke quietly.

"I'm glad we could reach such a pleasant understanding. I doubt I will be able to visit in person next time, but I hope you'll get along with the girl who comes in my stead. Personally, I think of her as a daughter."

Did thinking of her as a daughter mean he could kill her without hesitation if she displeased him? Keeping the thought to himself, Turan shook his hand.

* * *

After concluding the peace agreement, Talis promptly left Kalamap with the nobles who had accompanied him. Though this violated the usual etiquette between noble houses, Turan welcomed it. He did not want prolonged contact to reveal that he was in rather poor health.

"Ghk."

Turan coughed, then caught the blood that rose with it using fluid manipulation magic and sent it flying out through a corridor window.

Had a Zahar noble been nearby, the smell of blood would have immediately betrayed his condition. Fortunately, he had managed to keep himself from coughing during the meeting.

Normally, Maysa would be beside him to wipe away the blood whenever he coughed like this. But after the peace agreement was concluded, she had retired to her room, saying she was tired, and had not emerged all day.

"Ah, Master Turan..."

The female knight standing guard in the corridor looked flustered at the sight of him and saluted with a hand to her chest. Turan detected a faint trace of anger from her.

House Berg's knights felt a bond with Maysa through her family ties to the house, and were angry at his decision.

"I've come to see Maysa. Is she inside?"

Of course, he asked only out of courtesy. Between the Mimic Holy Relic and his other abilities, he had several ways to detect people nearby. He could already tell that Maysa, who had been lying in bed, had sensed his presence and was moving.

"My lady is..."

Just before the knight could lie that Maysa was out, the door behind her flew open. With untidy hair covering her face, Maysa spoke to Turan.

"Let's talk outside."

"All right."

Apparently she meant more than a conversation in the garden. The moment they left the mansion, Maysa took off at full speed using flight magic. With less mana than she had, Turan naturally had to give his all to keep up.

A little over ten minutes later, they landed atop a rocky mountain several dozen kilometers from Kalamap. There was not a trace of human presence anywhere nearby.

"Maysa, I..."

The instant Turan began to speak, lightning erupted from Maysa's hand. Her mastery of the electrical spell was so complete that there was not even a warning flicker of static.

Turan took the spell in full without making the slightest move to defend himself. A powerful shock surged through his chest and spread throughout his body, locking his muscles rigid.

"Ugh..."

Apparently she had not expected him to take the attack without resistance; concern flashed across Maysa's face. But it lasted only a moment before her expression twisted again at the sight of him on the ground.

Tingling pain coursed through Turan's body as he lay on his back, looking up at Maysa.

'She must have cried a lot.'

He had seen her hastily pressing something like ice to her eyes earlier, trying to reduce the swelling. Unfortunately, even that was difficult for a noble as powerful as her. A little cold could scarcely affect her body.

Maysa stared down at him with red, swollen eyes, then straddled his stomach. It was the mounted hold they had learned during martial arts training. In practice, wizards weighed far too little relative to their strength for it to be of much use against anyone of noble caliber.

"You bastard."

Maysa spat the curse as though grinding it between her teeth. Turan barely had time to think that this was the first time she had sworn at him before searing pain exploded across his face with a sharp crack.

"Ghk."

Maysa's fists hurt far more than he had expected. In the dueling arena, he regularly activated the Berserker bloodline and got the better of her in a beating. Without the Mimic Holy Relic's help, however, her greater mana gave her the advantage in raw physical ability.

How long did she beat him as he lay there? Seeing his once-handsome face covered entirely in blood, Maysa panted angrily, then buried her face in both hands.

His broken nose made Turan's voice sound stuffy as he asked,

"Are you crying?"

"Yes, you bastard..."

Perhaps her upbringing had left her with few curses to draw upon. Maysa's choice of insults was remarkably limited. Wiping away her tears, she looked down at Turan.

She understood, intellectually, that he had made the decision to secure peace for everyone, but she could hardly bear the sense of betrayal. Her mind was filled with how she had followed him as her savior, and all the time they had spent together, living almost like husband and wife.

If he had any respect for her, couldn't he at least have told her before making such a decision? They had never put their affection into words, but she had thought their relationship meant at least that much.

Even now, when she felt so betrayed, seeing the injuries she had inflicted made her heart ache. All the more so when he turned his head aside and coughed up blood.

After spitting out a mouthful of blood, Turan beckoned to Maysa, who was still sitting astride him.

"Wait, bring your head a little..."

Puzzled though she was, Maysa immediately bent toward him like a well-trained animal. It was less out of guilt for hitting him than simple habit: when Turan told her to do something, she obeyed at once. In battle and other extreme situations, he always gave the orders, and those orders were almost never wrong.

As Maysa bent down, Turan cupped the back of her head with one hand and pulled her toward him. A moment later, the rich taste of blood flowed into her mouth.