The Sunstone Gardens were a marvel of magical botany, a terraced expanse where flowers bloomed with the light of captured suns and trees hummed with harmonic energies. It was a place of serene, controlled power, a fitting venue for the clandestine meeting. Seiji led a nervous Astrea through the geometrically perfect paths, his senses extended, confirming that the area was, as promised, clear of Golden Dawn patrols.
They found "Alex" waiting by a fountain that sprayed liquid light. But she was not alone. Beside her stood a man who seemed to wear his authority as lightly as his simple, grey scholar's robes. He was middle-aged, with a lean, thoughtful face and eyes that held a depth of knowledge Seiji had only ever seen in one other person: Orias. This man carried the same weight of centuries, the same aura of erudition that transcended mere intelligence. He was a pillar of calm in the vibrant garden.
Greetings were exchanged, polite but taut with unspoken questions. Under Seiji's reassuring nod, Astrea began her story. The words poured out of her—her father Ian's mysterious disappearance, the political vacuum, Lucius's relentless pursuit, and the coveted Dragon Matrix. She spoke of her fear, her flight, and of the enigmatic man named Seiji who had become her protector.
The middle-aged man listened, his expression unreadable. When Astrea finished, he fixed her with a piercing gaze.
"You are certain of this? Certain that Captain Lucius acts not on Council authority, but on his own ambition regarding the Matrix?"
Astrea met his eyes, her own filled with a desperate sincerity. "I am certain. My father warned me of him specifically. He said the Matrix was a key, and Lucius was a man who collected keys to locks he had no right to open."
The man nodded slowly, then his focus shifted, turning like the aim of a siege weapon towards Seiji. The air itself seemed to still.
"Young man," he began, his voice quiet yet carrying an immense, natural authority. "My teacher, the great sage Orias, recently contacted me. He told me an interesting story. He spoke of a mysterious black-armored warrior who gathered the outcasts of the empire—elves, beastmen, dwarves, even dragons. A man who built a kingdom in the shadows, a place called Grimgar." His eyes, ancient and knowing, bored into Seiji. "He also mentioned this person was journeying to Magitopia. May I ask… is that person you?"
The question hung in the air, a detonation of revealed secrets. Astrea gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Alexis's eyes widened in shock, her scholarly disguise momentarily forgotten.
Seiji felt a jolt of surprise, but it was fleeting, quickly crushed by his analytical mind. Orias. The old sage had been playing a longer game than Seiji had realized. He had not just sent Seiji to Magitopia; he had prepared the ground. This man, who spoke of Orias as his teacher, could only be one person.
Seiji gave a slight, respectful bow, not of submission, but of acknowledgment. "I came to Magitopia bearing an invitation and an offer of alliance," he replied, his voice steady. "But it seems my credentials have already been vouched for. I find I have little need to prove my sincerity, sir."
A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched the man's lips. "Longinus," he said, offering his name freely. "And you are correct. I do not particularly care for your original purpose in coming here. A king hears many proposals." His gaze softened as he looked at Astrea. "However, I must thank you. For protecting her. Ian asked me to watch over her before he… departed. But the burdens of a crown are many, and some threads slip from even a king's grasp." The admission was startling in its honesty, a crack in the majestic facade.
"Longinus…?" Astrea whispered, her mind reeling. She was in the presence of the Wizard King, and he was speaking casually with her rescuer about shadow kingdoms and great sages.
But the greater shock was yet to come for Alexis. "The black-armored warrior?" she interjected, her voice laced with confusion. "A kingdom of outcasts? Seiji, what is the meaning of this?"
Seiji turned fully to face her. The time for masks was over. "I know who you are," he said, his tone calm but direct, "though you likely know little of me. My full name is Ryohei Seiji. I was one of the five summoned by your father, King Arthen, to be a 'Hero' and defeat the Demon King." He saw the flash of recognition in her eyes. "But my 'sacred power' did not awaken. I was deemed a dud. A waste of the ritual." He paused, letting the memory of that crushing humiliation fuel his next words. "And so, I was cast out from the castle like a stray dog, left to die in the streets."
He then told his story. He spoke of the despair, the wandering, the awakening of his own power—a power he carefully described as an inner strength born of will, omitting the Vanguard system. He spoke of the corruption he witnessed, the suffering of the people, the tyranny of the knights. He told them of saving Riveria and the elves, of uniting the beastmen, of forging Grimgar into a beacon for the oppressed. He painted a picture of a kingdom not of conquest, but of sanctuary, built in direct opposition to the rot of the empire.
Alexis listened, her face a canvas of shifting emotions—disbelief, horror, dawning comprehension, and a profound, personal shame. The "interesting traveler" was one of her father's discarded tools, a living testament to Arthen's folly and cruelty. Astrea stared at Seiji with new eyes, seeing not just a powerful mage, but a revolutionary leader.
When he finished, the garden was silent save for the gentle plash of the luminous fountain. Seiji turned his gaze back to Longinus, who had watched the entire revelation with the patience of a mountain.
"Lord Orias called you his most excellent student," Seiji said, his voice cutting through the silence. "I would value the assessment of such excellence. How do you judge my kingdom, born from the empire's refuse? And will an offer of cooperation—a pact to stand together against the tyranny of Arthen—be accepted by you, Your Majesty?"
All eyes were on the Wizard King. Alexis held her breath, her own worldview teetering on the brink. Astrea looked on, her personal crisis now swallowed by a geopolitical tidal wave.
Longinus did not answer immediately. He turned away from them, his hands clasped behind his back, and looked out towards the distant, shimmering spires of his capital. His gaze was lost in the horizon, his thoughts veiled behind an impenetrable mask of royal contemplation. The fate of two nations, and perhaps the entire continent, hung on the silence of the Wizard King.