“My name is Wolfgang Eisenfeld.”

Wolfgang's fist was planted against Ilea's abdomen. She remained expressionless, completely unharmed. Magic had protected her body, leaving the fist he had thrust at her frozen solid.

Ilea spoke.

“I've heard that name many times. You're far more impressive than I imagined, sir.”

There was no one in this world who did not know Wolfgang. Even street urchins were bound to have heard his name at least once. Wolfgang de Eisenfeld, who had defended the North for over a hundred and fifty years, was a living witness to history and a hero of humanity.

There were plenty of fairy tales and biographies about him. Ilea had read books about him on several occasions.

Wolfgang grinned.

“Now then, mage. Shall we hear your name?”

He could hardly help wondering who Ilea was. She had blocked his blow with ease, something that had not happened once in nearly fifty years. Only a handful of humans could exchange blows with him.

A mighty being who had transcended humanity. The mage before him must be one of those few. An archmage, most likely. It might even be someone he had met before. That was what Wolfgang thought.

Ilea replied.

“I'm sorry. I'm not in a position to reveal my identity. I hope you'll understand.”

Mages generally did not reveal themselves. Their very existence made them Class One criminals, and they were constantly hunted by the Church. Like Ilea now, they always wore hoods or masks to conceal even their appearance.

Wolfgang stroked his beard.

“Hmm. Can't be helped, then. I'll have to take a look for myself.”

The instant he finished speaking, a scarlet haze rose from his body. Red currents spread in every direction. It was a supernatural power called Bloodsteel.

Bloodsteel was somewhat different from a knight's aura. Where aura released the body's internal energy through the aura core, Bloodsteel generated energy by boiling the user's blood. Only warriors of the North could wield it.

Wolfgang glowed red like iron heated in a fire. The ice encasing his fist melted in an instant.

Ilea let out a quiet sound of admiration.

“Remarkable. To generate this much heat without magic.”

At that moment, Wolfgang's fist erupted with an explosive boom. Overwhelming heat engulfed the alley. The ice protecting Ilea evaporated in an instant, and the force of the explosion sent her flying.

A beastlike roar rang out.

“Mage! Let's have a look at that face of yours!”

Wolfgang charged through the white steam. His enormous, scarlet form snatched Ilea out of the air, a massive hand closing around her small head. She offered no particular resistance. With her head in his grip, he drove her straight into a wall.

KRAAASH!

The wall crumbled in an instant. Broken stone rained down on Ilea as she looked at Wolfgang with expressionless eyes.

“You're rather violent. Is this how northern men usually treat women?”

The enormous hand held her face in a crushing grip. Wolfgang's mouth spread into a broad grin.

“Didn't know you were a woman. I'd have been a little rougher if I had.”

Ilea had even altered her voice. Ordinary powers of observation would not have been enough to discern her sex.

Her eyes curved in a smile.

“Liar. You knew.”

Wolfgang smiled cruelly.

“Let's see if you really are a woman.”

He seized Ilea's hood with his free hand and tore it away. Instead of the hood, her head came ripping off.

Wolfgang froze. His smile vanished. He was distinctly shaken.

An androgynous voice drifted down from the air.

“Northern men really are brutes.”

The hooded mage sat on a broom, looking down at the ground. Ice melted limply in Wolfgang's hand. What he had just attacked was a dummy created by Ilea's magic.

He shook the water off his hand.

“Do you intend to do nothing but defend yourself?”

The mage before him did not seem particularly interested in fighting. Ilea shook her head.

“No. Now I'm going to run away.”

Wolfgang grunted.

“Why not have a bout with me? Even you won't get an opportunity like this often.”

Merely exchanging blows with someone as powerful as Wolfgang was a valuable experience. For the warriors of the North, at least.

Ilea was no warrior. She was a mage, and saw no value in a bloody fight with her life on the line.

She smiled gently.

“I'm sorry, sir. I'm not confident I'd survive a fight with you.”

As she was now, she would indeed be unable to defeat Wolfgang. He was one of the mightiest beings of the age, and the witch was still far too young. Running away was the right choice.

Besides, she had no further business in Deathshadow. Wolfgang had already finished cleaning it out.

Wolfgang looked displeased.

“Too modest by far. I don't like it.”

Ilea bowed her head slightly.

“We'll have a chance to fight someday. For now, I'll be on my way.”

Wolfgang waved her off.

“Fine. Get lost, then. I've lost interest.”

If an archmage chose to flee, even Wolfgang had no real way to stop them.

Ilea rose higher into the sky on her broom. Her voice rang out softly.

“Goodbye, Wolfgang.”

The mage vanished in an instant. Wolfgang stared up at the sky and muttered.

“Even an archmage turns up. Damn it, Crong. Just what the hell are you up to? You'd better not cross the line.”

Crong was his nickname for Count Cromwell Staviana. Wolfgang heaved a long sigh and moved on. It was time to return to the North.

* * *

Veldana was quite close to the royal capital. The journey took only a day by carriage.

Amid the countless mansions lining the capital's residential district, one particularly elegant, old-fashioned residence caught Yohan's eye. He stepped out of the carriage and looked back and forth between his map and the mansion.

“This is it.”

This was probably the house the Count had secured for him. The crescent moon seal of House Miyatro was already affixed to the gate. There was no mistaking it.

Yohan approached the firmly closed gate.

'“Attend me!” Am I supposed to call out something like that?'

He cleared his throat. Just as he was about to call out, the gate opened with a metallic creak. A man in a neat tunic hurried out.

“P-pleased to meet you! My name is Haman, and I am the butler who will be serving you, Master!”

He looked to be in his mid-twenties. Rather young for a butler.

Yohan spoke.

“Good to meet you. I'm Yohan Miyatro.”

Haman replied, looking thoroughly nervous.

“It's an honor to meet you. Did you have a comfortable journey?”

He had arrived in a single day, and the journey had been very comfortable. There had not even been an inspection at the capital's gates. The soldiers had promptly sprung into action the moment they saw House Miyatro's crest. The Count's influence had probably been at work.

Yohan nodded.

“I did. More importantly, could I see the inside of the house?”

Leaving the master of the house standing outside the gate like this. Haman was clearly no experienced butler.

'A rather sloppy appointment, by the Count's standards.'

He had probably needed to find someone in a hurry. Yohan thought no more of it than that.

Haman made a courteous gesture.

“O-of course. Please come in.”

Following his lead, Yohan entered the grounds. They crossed a broad garden and arrived before a large building. The doors opened of their own accord, revealing the interior.

“““Welcome, Master.”””

Numerous servants stood in two facing rows in the entrance hall. Maids, gardeners, cooks, coachmen—every one of them bowed.

Yohan swept his gaze over their faces.

“Good to meet you all. I hope we'll get along.”

They answered his greeting by bowing still lower.

Haman spoke.

“You must be hungry, Master. Please have something to eat first. Dinner is ready.”

Yohan shook his head.

“No. Show me to my office. We need to talk.”

The sun would set soon, and Yohan would turn into a Demon. Before that happened, he needed to give the butler a few warnings.

Tension flickered across Haman's face. He smiled awkwardly.

“What would you like to discuss...?”

Yohan frowned slightly.

'He's a bit clueless. Seems like the sort who makes a mess of everything.'

On first impressions alone, Haman failed the test. He did not seem like someone who would handle his work with care.

Yohan clicked his tongue.

“I said we'd talk in my office.”

At his somewhat stern tone, Haman jerked like a freshly caught fish.

“I-I'll show you the way!”

Haman and Yohan went straight to the office on the mansion's second floor.

* * *

Yohan sat at the desk with his arms folded.

“Now, Haman. Do you understand all the rules?”

Standing at attention, Haman answered vigorously.

“First, all servants must vacate the mansion after sunset! Second, no matter what happens during the night, no one is to enter the mansion before sunrise! Third, anyone who violates these rules will be severely punished! That is all!”

Yohan turned into a Demon when the sun set. No one could be allowed to see him that way. He could not trust the servants yet.

He nodded.

“Good. Make sure you inform the others.”

“Understood. Now, please come to the dining room. We've prepared a welcome reception.”

Yohan frowned.

“... Haman. The sun is about to set.”

Everyone had to leave the mansion after sunset. A welcome reception was out of the question.

'Has he forgotten the rules already?'

Yohan's opinion of Haman kept sinking. A look of belated realization crossed the butler's face.

“I'm sorry! Then, your dinner...”

“I'll take care of it myself. You may go.”

Dismissed, Haman immediately moved toward the door.

“H-have a restful night!”

Just as he was about to leave the office, Yohan spoke.

“Wait. I forgot something.”

Haman turned back to him.

“If there's anything you need done, just say the word!”

“I'll be visiting House Marcano early tomorrow morning. Send word ahead.”

He could not simply turn up unannounced. He needed to make at least some sort of appointment.

Haman spoke.

“I'll go right now and come straight back.”

Yohan clicked his tongue.

'What does he mean, come back?'

He sighed.

“Go home afterward. The sun will be setting soon.”

Haman lowered his head, looking cowed.

“... I-I'll tell everyone else to go home as well.”

“Good. Off you go.”

Haman turned and left the office. His bumbling expression hardened, and his eyes grew cold.

Taking a sheet of paper from inside his clothes, he murmured,

“Night. Night, is it? That's the first thing of note, then.”

He began busily jotting something down.