Aaron Rhodes was bending down to pick up a fallen apple. The one he'd accidentally knocked loose had struck the ground and come away bruised.
He picked it up, wiped it off, and said to the shopkeeper, "I'll buy this one."
Just then the clatter of hooves rose up behind him. He turned and saw three carriages from the Duke's estate rolling slowly into view.
"Carriages from the Duke's estate?"
Aaron Rhodes's brow creased slightly, and his eyelids lowered.
Under the sunlight, shadows crept across the white-haired old man's face.
He had been in the capital for some time now, but the people of the Duke's estate had kept to themselves the whole while. Aside from the Valkyrie and the Beast Sage, the only ones who came and went with any regularity were those four tutors.
He'd never once found an opening to make contact with anyone from inside.
He hadn't expected that today, of all days, taking a stroll to pass the time while he waited for his chance, he would stumble right into the Duke's carriages.
Carriages drawn by dragon-horns like these — only members of the household had the standing to ride in them.
Aaron Rhodes drew a slow breath. His chance had come.
…
The carriages slowed once they entered the Eugenie Trade District, then rolled straight up to a tavern and stopped.
This tavern, called the Horseshoe, was a minor holding tucked somewhere in the Demon family's business empire.
But minor or not, it was still part of the family's holdings, and whenever Demon family members passed through the Eugenie Trade District, they always left their carriages in the Horseshoe's back courtyard.
The moment the tavern owner spotted his masters' carriages pulling in, his easy, unhurried expression shifted, and he hurried outside.
The owner's name was Hanson, a burly man whose forearms were thicker than most people's thighs.
The instant he stepped out, he leaned toward the lead Dragon-Taming Guard and asked in a low voice, "Might I ask which lord graces us today?"
The two men were on familiar terms.
The Dragon-Taming Guard answered with a smile, "It's the young master."
"The young master…" Hanson froze for a long moment, apparently racking his brain over which young master that might be.
Then his eyes drifted to the crest beside the Demon family emblem — the badge marking the rank of Duke — and his expression changed at once. "That young master?" he blurted, alarmed.
The Dragon-Taming Guard smiled. "Hanson, I transferred to the Duke's estate almost half a year ago now."
"How was I supposed to know that?" Hanson rubbed his hands together, the tension on his face gradually easing.
The Duke's young master was mischievous, sure, but he wasn't going to eat anyone. Worst case, he'd tear the tavern Hanson depended on for his living down to the studs — nothing to worry about, really, nothing at all!
"Relax."
The Dragon-Taming Guard was just about to say a few words in his young master's defense when the carriage door swung open from the inside, and "the Lion," Trina, poked her head out.
"Are we here?"
"We're here," the guard answered quickly.
Trina didn't so much as glance at Hanson. "Into the back courtyard first."
The guard waited until she'd turned away, then hurried the carriage around into the rear yard.
The tavern's back courtyard was spacious enough. The three dragon-horn-drawn carriages rolled in one after another, and Dark and the others climbed out slowly.
Hanson, trailing alongside the whole time, watched Dark Demon step down from the carriage, and something inside him burned like a fire he couldn't put out.
He'd hardly ever crossed paths with the young master himself, but the young master's exploits had traveled far and wide.
Tavern owners especially, dealing with a constant stream of travelers every day, had their ears to the ground, and word of the young master's doings had reached him more than once.
The young master might not eat people, but when it came to "demolishing homes," he was a true master of the craft!
After today, the "home" Hanson had lived in for over a decade might well cease to exist!
"You must be Uncle Hanson."
Hanson blinked hard, certain he'd misheard.
But it took only a moment to register that the Demon young master really was speaking to him.
"Uncle Hanson, don't you remember me?" Dark said, smiling brightly as he stepped down from the carriage.
Hanson's face stiffened. He racked his brain but couldn't for the life of him recall ever meeting Dark, so he forced a laugh and bluffed his way through. "Welcome to the Horseshoe, young master. Whatever you'd like to eat or drink, just say the word. I'll send someone to fetch the head chef from the Eugenie Grand Restaurant right away."
Dark gave no answer to that. "Seems you really don't recognize me. I actually came by here three years ago."
"Three years ago?" Hanson shut his mouth and dug through his memory.
Dark said lightly, "Remember that fire?"
Hanson's face went pale in an instant. "That kid was you!"
Dark closed the Magic Guide Scribe in his hand and turned to look toward the kitchen on the far side of the courtyard, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. "Sorry about burning down your kitchen. Ollie compensated you for it, though, didn't she?"
Compensated?
He'd nearly had his bones broken, and they called that compensation?
Hanson's insides twisted bitterly, but all he could manage to say was, "Yes, yes, compensated in full."
So that was it…
Back then he'd racked his brains wondering what devil or demon he'd offended — his kitchen burned down out of nowhere, and after it was all over, someone had thrown a sack over his head and beaten him black and blue!
He'd even meant to let it go, seeing as the culprit was just a child…
Who could have guessed that grimy, disheveled kid was the family's eldest young master?
And Ollie, of course…
So the one who'd thrashed him that day had been Head Maid Ollie of the Aries Palace!
No wonder he hadn't stood a chance.
Hanson shivered involuntarily.
"Hm?"
Noticing his odd expression, Dark realized at once that something in his information must be off.
Still, what was past was past.
Who hadn't done something foolish in their youth?
So Dark, with easy grace, forgave his younger self.
He stopped looking at Hanson, turned toward the other two carriages, clapped his hands, and said, "Everyone out."
In an instant, Magic Guide Spirits came pouring out of the carriages.
Hanson could never have guessed that so many magical beings had been hidden inside those three carriages — including, of all things, a Dragon Breed!
Sweat beaded on his forehead. He didn't dare say another word.
Once out of the carriages, the Magic Guide Spirits' eyes went wide as they looked all around.
The tavern's back courtyard resembled Traveler Street closely enough that none of it felt unfamiliar to them.
The Vampire Young Lady dragged the Phoenix Maiden along, hopping over and squeezing past Aurora to press close to Dark. "Where are we going to play next?"
Dark looked up and out toward the street, smiling. "Split into six groups, take one of the maids with each group, and go wherever you like. Just don't forget to be back here by eleven. We're eating lunch at this tavern today — you might even pick up some interesting stories from the adventurers here."
"Really?" The Vampire Young Lady's eyes lit up at once, and the Phoenix Maiden beside her looked equally moved.
These Magic Guide Spirits had all gained sentience — and it was precisely because of that sentience that they understood their own place in the world all the more clearly.
By rights, the status of "Magic Guide Spirit" should have had nothing at all to do with "freedom."
That they could think, learn, even pursue things they truly wanted to do — all of it existed only because of the master standing before them.
Simply being his Magic Guide Spirit was already the greatest happiness this world could offer.
And more than that, he cared for them, doted on them, like this.
…
"Of course it's real."
Dark nodded, smiling, and went on. "Once you're out there, buy whatever you like with your own Saint Coins. If you're short, you can borrow from the maids.
But every hundred Saint Coins you borrow, you'll owe back a hundred and twenty. Once we're home, you'll settle the debt with little red flowers.
And if your savings can't cover it, then every month that passes, the amount you owe increases by ten percent of the base debt. Understand what I'm saying?"
It wasn't just the Vampire Young Lady.
Every other Magic Guide Spirit did the mental math in their heads and went stiff-faced at once, realizing they absolutely could not spend carelessly, or they'd fall straight into an endless hell of debt!
But a few of them had a flash of inspiration and saw a golden business opportunity in this.
If borrowing from the maids came with twenty percent interest, what if they themselves offered loans at ten percent instead?
"Kya kya kya!"
At the thought, DemiDevimon couldn't help cackling out loud.
Dark shot it a glance. "Any Magic Guide Spirit in my group is free to switch to another group now, if you want."
"Meow!" Meowth's paw shot straight up.
"Ghos-ty—" Misdreavus drifted over too.
But Dark said at once, "Meowth and Misdreavus, no."
Both Magic Guide Spirits wilted instantly, like frost-bitten eggplants.
Dark understood their natures far too well by now.
Once free of his supervision, Meowth's Greed would inevitably run wild — buying everything in sight was one thing, but the real fear was that it would "buy" things without paying at all.
As for Misdreavus…
he had no interest in hearing someone else's screams on his one rare day off.
"What about me?"
While none of the other Magic Guide Spirits had shown any preference, DemiDevimon pointed at itself with a wingtip.
Dark had no worries at all about it. "Pick a group."
DemiDevimon immediately started weighing its options between the two groups led by Gatomon and Leomon.
Leomon's group included Miltank, that rich little hoarder — no way to squeeze anything out of that one. So it settled on Gatomon's group.
Conveniently, that group also had the Vampire Young Lady, weakest-willed of them all — heh heh, they were more or less the same kind, after all, so it made sense to help each other out a little.
…
With the groups sorted, all three teams filed out of the Horseshoe's back courtyard.
A crowd of Magic Guide Spirits like this was bound to disrupt the flow of the Eugenie Trade District.
To anyone unfamiliar with magic beasts, this whole group looked no different from a pack of monsters.
It was only because the Vampire Young Lady kept her small wings tucked under her clothes at all times that things didn't cause an even bigger stir.
But since Dark had brought them out in the first place, he wasn't going to worry about that now.
In truth, some adventurers did carry tamed magic beasts around with them, and some Magic Guide Masters made a habit of keeping one or two Magic Guide Spirits at their side.
The only difference between him and them was that he simply brought a few more.
So really, no problem at all!
…
Once Gatomon and Leomon had led their two groups off into the distance, Dark turned and asked, "What about you two — anywhere you'd like to go?"
Diana blinked and answered without hesitation, "The Bear Candy House!"
Aurora asked curiously, "The one that sells the heart-piercing sour plum candy? Is there a branch here too?"
Diana puffed out her chest. "There isn't a candy shop in this whole capital I don't know about!"
Dark's mouth curved into a faint smile. "Bear Candy House it is, then."
So Dark took hold of the Magic Guide Scribe, scooped Meowth up around the middle, and off they went.
…
They had no particular destination in mind, so naturally they went wherever seemed most fun.
A few thugs who didn't know better crossed their path along the way, but the sheer presence of the maids sent them scurrying off in terror.
Little diversions like that made for a decent bit of amusement, too.
Dark went with Diana and Aurora to the candy shop, then a snack stall, then a clothing store, then a toy shop, then a bookstore — even a kitchenware store!
Watching Aurora pick through the cookware with such focus, Dark realized for the first time that her skills went well beyond needlework.
He wondered, though, whether her cooking was anywhere near as good as Ollie's.
…
Happy hours never last long enough.
Before he knew it, noon was approaching, and Dark headed back to the Horseshoe Tavern. He took a seat by the window on the second floor and settled in, watching the crowd bustle below with a comfortable, easy feeling.
The tavern owner Hanson kept asking what they wanted to eat, but Dark waved him off each time with a simple, "Surprise us."
Before long, a plate of nuts and light snacks arrived at the table.
Then Hanson himself went into the kitchen, boasting that he'd make the young master bow before his cooking, and vanished from sight for quite a while.
It wasn't until the other two groups of Magic Guide Spirits had trickled back that Hanson finally emerged, carrying a pot of pickled cabbage fish stew.
"This is a local specialty I learned straight from a traveling bard!" Hanson said, pleased with himself, watching for the young master's reaction with visible eagerness.
"Looks decent."
Dark didn't hold back his praise, then dipped a fork straight into the pot, speared a piece of fish, and savored it — and found, to his surprise, that it tasted exactly like something from his past life.
Just that one bite, matching a memory so precisely, was enough to spark his appetite in earnest.
Seeing Dark wear such a rare expression, Diana couldn't resist the temptation either.
Before lunch had even officially begun, the two of them were already digging in with gusto.
At the other two tables, the Magic Guide Spirits banged their knives and forks against the tabletop in loud protest.
Back at the Duke's estate, that kind of behavior would have earned a stern scolding from Head Maid Vigo.
But a tavern had its own rules.
People drank, sang, laughed, and bickered — the place was lively enough.
At first the other patrons had eyed the Magic Guide Spirits with some wariness, but once the spirits started showing off their childlike, guileless personalities one after another, that wariness melted into plain curiosity.
As the mood loosened up, the tavern gradually settled back into its usual atmosphere.
Dark found the patrons' boasting and tall tales rather entertaining to listen to.
…
On the tavern's second floor, at a table separated from Dark's by just one space, an old man with a full head of white hair and a white beard had laid out a deck of tarot cards on a small round table meant for one, and was performing a reading.
This immediately caught the attention of Dark and the others.
Tarot was a very commonly used tool for divination.
Professor Medea Bartholomew had covered related knowledge in Astronomy class before.
Of course, she had only given a brief introduction.
After all, true "tarot divination" was an extremely deep and difficult art to master.
Out on the street corners, the fortune-tellers one so often saw using "tarot cards" for readings were, 99.999% of the time, charlatans.
But there was a certain charm to seeking out a fortune from someone even while knowing full well they were a fraud.
"Voo-ee?"
Eevee-chan poked her head out from Diana's arms.
Ever since Professor Medea's class on tarot, Dark had bought Eevee a deck of her own.
Eevee had clearly grown fond of it, and often played with the cards back in the dormitory.
Dark had occasionally caught her doing readings for the other Magic Guide Spirits.
Of course, it was really just a little game called "fortune-telling."
Now, seeing someone playing that same little game in the tavern, Eevee-chan grew quite eager and wanted to go take a closer look.
But the moment she poked her head out, the scruff of her destiny — that is, her neck — was firmly seized.
Diana pulled her back into her arms, smoothed a hand down her back, and asked with a smile, "Want a reading?"
Eevee nodded at once. "Vee-voo!"
"Then let's go take a look."
Diana grinned, hopped down from her chair, and hurried over to the old man's table, all excitement.
There were currently three others receiving readings, and from their appearance, they looked like a party of adventurers.
Dark saw Diana heading over and, Magic Guide Scribe in hand, ambled after her, unhurried.
The adventurer party was made up of two men and one woman.
That was a fairly common arrangement for a three-person adventuring team.
Women tended to be more careful and detail-oriented, usually had a knack for practical living skills, managed money well, and often had an edge when it came to negotiating with others.
In short, having a woman in the party was, in a general sense, a practical necessity for adventuring teams.
A party made up of three men tended to come across as overly aggressive.
A party of two women and one man, on the other hand, tended to strike people as somehow less reliable.
This was simply how the current era's biases about gender played out.
Dark gave them a quick once-over and noted that the sole woman was a "Magic Archer" — the common term for an archer who had picked up a smattering of magic.
Of the two men, one was a conventional warrior, radiating physical presence but with no trace of magical fluctuation about him.
Judging by the longsword slung at his hip and the spear in his hand, he was a fighter skilled with two different weapons.
The other male adventurer was a shield-and-axe fighter, likewise a traditional warrior who trained purely in physical technique.
In this particular party, the shield-and-axe fighter served as the vanguard, the swordsman-spearman as the mid-line, and the Magic Archer as the rear guard — covering both offense and defense, close and ranged combat, with some magical attack capability besides. Altogether a fairly well-rounded team.
Judging from the subtle confidence in their bearing, these were clearly no green newcomers to combat.
And yet right now, the three of them looked distinctly on edge.
"Have they taken on some especially dangerous job?"
Dark guessed as much, walking up to the table.
He turned his attention to the "fortune-teller."
The old man, with his head of white hair and full white beard, looked somewhat worn down in spirit, though his face bore surprisingly few wrinkles — he had something of that crane-haired, child-faced, immortal-sage air about him.
An old man who looked like that made an especially convincing fortune-teller on first impression.
"Old sir, how much do you charge per reading?" the Magic Archer asked as she sat down.
The old man counted on his fingers for a moment, then said, "Today's fate lies here already. No charge."
"No charge?" The Magic Archer hesitated. "Then can it really be accurate?"
The old man raised his eyelids. "A charlatan reads fortunes for coin. I'm not charging you a thing — so what do you have to fear?"
"Fair point." The Magic Archer relaxed a little. "I want to know — over the next half month, will my companions and I run into any danger?"
"That's all?" the old man asked.
The Magic Archer nodded firmly. "That's all."
The old man made a sound of acknowledgment, then shuffled the cards right there on the spot, arranged them into the shape of a magic circle, and gave them a light tap — at which the tarot cards, arranged into that formation, actually began to tremble.
A ring of light flashed and vanished, and the cards settled back into stillness.
But that little flourish added an air of mystery to the whole thing.
The onlookers, Diana and Eevee included, all leaned in with a bit more focus.
The Magic Archer, more anxious than ever, asked, "Has it come out yet?"
The old man smiled faintly. "If fate could be peered into that easily, what use would fortune-tellers like us even be? Give me your hand — palm up."
The Magic Archer held out her hand toward him.
Magic power welled up from the old man's fingertip, tracing the shape of a "4" into her palm, then he drew his hand back. "There. From this moment on, your fate and this deck of tarot cards are joined as one. Draw a card — it will show you your fate."
Feeling the trace of magic power still lingering in her hand, the Magic Archer picked a single card from those spread across the table and drew it out.
She drew slowly, and sweat gradually beaded on her face.
If the card before her really could foretell what awaited the three of them over the next half month, then what she was doing right now was, in a very real sense, deciding fate itself.
The weight of that pressed down on her.
But the moment her fingers released it, "fate" was already decided.
The old man reached out and pressed his hand over the card she had drawn, narrowed his eyes, and said, "Give it to me."
The Magic Archer drew her hand back without thinking.
Her two companions were staring hard at the card as well.
Right there, under everyone's gaze, the old man flipped the card face up.
What appeared on its face was a figure hanging upside down.
"The Hanged Man?"
A flicker of surprise crossed the old man's face, and something dark stirred in the depths of his eyes.
The Magic Archer caught that subtle shift and asked anxiously, "What does this card mean?"
The old man was silent for a moment before answering slowly, "This is the Hanged Man. The Hanged Man represents justice — those who fear justice are the ones who hang it upside down. But justice never bends. Even strung up like this, it keeps thinking, keeps reflecting, waiting for the day of rescue to come. So tell me — what you're about to do, is it a just act, or an unjust one?"
The Magic Archer's expression shifted slightly, her red lips parting. "A just one, naturally."
The old man lowered his eyes. "If it's a just act, then there's nothing to fear. No matter how bad things get, if you're patient enough to wait it out, misfortune will pass eventually."
The Magic Archer turned to look at her two companions, but neither offered her any response.
She couldn't help but ask, "So you're saying we're bound to run into danger?"
The old man nodded. "It's not the most favorable reading, but yes, that's the truth of it."
With that, he began gathering the cards back together.
But the Hanged Man card was suddenly pinned down by another hand.
"And if it were an unjust act?" Dark asked, curious.
____
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