The Royal Wedding
"Oxana, you say?"
A goat-like voice asked from beyond the door.
"Yes. I was taught by Lady Oxana Narses."
"Wait a moment. I will confirm."
While they waited in the narrow alley, Fritz asked,
"Why are you using that name?"
Oxana Narses had been the second wife of Matthias, a vassal of Count Meyer. She was also a mage who, blinded by jealousy, had tried to turn her stepdaughter into a four-legged beast and offer her as a sacrifice.
Fritz was asking why Roberta, after giving an alias, had used Oxana's name as her master.
"It's the most appropriate choice. Do you remember the customs of mages?"
"They use their master's name as their surname, right?"
Roberta nodded.
"That's right. Just as there are no mages without masters, there are no mages without surnames."
She explained that for mages, a surname was like proof of identity.
"I don't know why this custom began, but a master's name acts as a guarantee. If my surname is Oxana, it means that person is my master and that I am qualified as a mage."
"Does that really mean anything? Unlike priests who can display a mark to prove their identity, anyone could impersonate someone that way."
"That's true—logically speaking. But mages are a closed group. Their thirst for knowledge is so strong that they distrust outsiders, and even among themselves, they rarely share what they learn."
That was why there were so few mages, she continued.
"You could compile the names of every mage in history into a single book. Do you know what that means?"
"Do they have some kind of lineage record?"
"Yes, they do."
Fritz looked incredulous.
"It's kept in the city of mages. Well… that's a long story, so let's leave it at that. In any case, they can verify the name Oxana here, but they won't have any way to confirm whether I'm truly her disciple."
The reason she used Oxana Narses' name was simple—she was dead. Having died only recently, few would know of her death. Even if Roberta impersonated her disciple, how could anyone verify the truth?
In settlements of a certain size, there were always bases for mages, and to enter, one had to prove they were a mage.
"Then should I also use an alias?"
"No. Fritz, you can pretend to be my attendant. Even after verifying lineage, if they remain suspicious, they'll test one's ability."
Roberta gestured toward the path they had come from.
"You couldn't clearly sense the flow of mana on the way here, right? That means you haven't reached their standard. You can feel mana and even use it, but not enough to call yourself a mage."
Any human who had received the infant sacrament could sense mana regardless of talent, and with effort, they could reach a certain level of control.
As Fritz had asked before, if simply being able to use a little magic qualified someone as a mage, then the entire world would be full of mages.
That was why those who called themselves mages had established standards—and the flow of mana Roberta felt before the house was one of them.
Fritz scratched the back of his head.
"I've been told I have some talent… this is a bit embarrassing."
"It's fine. You just haven't learned enough yet."
The boy had not been able to fully perceive the flow. He may have sensed something faintly, but not enough to follow it here. He had talent, but lacked training.
Roberta smiled and lightly patted his back.
Soon after, the door opened with the words, "You may come in."
The moment they stepped through the entrance and into the corridor, goosebumps rose on her skin. A chill filled the air. Outside, the blazing summer sun burned overhead, yet inside, it was cool.
This was no natural phenomenon. Roberta felt a powerful flow of mana. Just as Narbakayani, the dragon they met on the Ice Peninsula, had called forth spring in a land of snow, the master of this residence had summoned autumn in the midst of summer.
"This way."
Following the guide through the corridor, they entered a hall. A considerable number of people had gathered there. Around a table set with light refreshments in the center, more than thirty people were conversing.
"There are quite a lot. I didn't expect this many."
"Are all of them mages?"
"Probably," Roberta replied, scanning the room.
Why are there so many mages? Aside from a few servants, everyone appeared to be a mage. Even considering that the priestly summons had made this country more favorable for mage activity, it still seemed excessive.
"Don't worry about it," Roberta whispered to Fritz, then walked over to the table and picked up a drink. "Just stay close to me. As long as you don't wander off, no one will question you."
Soon, a woman approached and asked bluntly,
"I heard you're Oxana's disciple?"
Roberta glanced at the guide—it seemed he had informed her.
"Yes, that's right. And you are?"
"Adeline Juno."
She repeated the name "Juno" in her mind. While Adeline was unfamiliar, Juno was not—it was the name of one of the Five Sages, like Narses.
In mage customs, using the name of a Sage rather than one's own master as a surname meant that one had surpassed their master—so much so that no one but a Sage could be considered their teacher.
"Didn't Oxana mention me?"
"No, this is my first time hearing of you. What was your relationship?"
"Just think of me as a friend."
A friend?
Adeline appeared to be around Roberta's age.
But Roberta had once witnessed Oxana Narses—who had possessed a youthful appearance—revert to the form of a wrinkled old woman upon nearing death.
One could not judge a mage's age by their appearance. Slowing or concealing aging was a basic skill for mages, and among those who sought immortality, mages were the most numerous.
Reaching the level of using a Sage's name as a surname, and calling Oxana a friend—could such a person really be of Roberta's age? She might very well have lived over a hundred years.
"Did Oxana not come with you?"
"No. My master said she was busy." Roberta carefully observed Adeline's expression. "So I came in her stead to attend the royal wedding."
"In her stead? To the royal wedding?"
Adeline narrowed her eyes.
"What is it?"
"No… in that case, that's good. One less competitor."
Roberta looked at her, silently asking what she meant.
"There's a position open in the court right now. You know what that means, don't you?"
An open position in the court? Roberta's expression hardened. When a mage spoke of a court position, it referred to the royal advisor—the court mage.
So if that position was vacant, it meant the court mage had either died or been expelled. Few would willingly relinquish such power.
"I understand what it means, but what happened?"
"They were old. It wouldn't have been strange for them to pass on at any time."
Adeline shrugged as if it were nothing, but Roberta's expression did not relax. Something about it felt off. It might be a coincidence—but the timing was too peculiar.
After they spoke for a while, Adeline suddenly frowned, looking past Roberta's shoulder.
"…That man came too."
Turning around, Roberta saw two men entering the hall. Adeline glared at one of them—a man who appeared to be around forty.
The middle-aged man had been conversing with another companion wearing a wide-brimmed hat, but upon sensing her gaze, he turned his head.
"Adeline? You came as well?"
He frowned in the same way, saying almost the same thing.
"I arrived first. Stop entertaining pointless hopes and go back."
"Hah. If we went by order of arrival, there would be more than a few things you'd have to yield to me. Has your memory already started failing?"
Shaking his head, the man tried to leave. "Pay no mind," he said, urging his companion forward.
"Who's that? Who is he that you're being so polite to?"
Adeline pointed at the companion. The man replied that she didn't need to know, but when she pressed persistently, he clicked his tongue and answered,
"Lanche Casper."
"What?" she asked, tilting her head. It seemed to be a name she had never heard before.
Roberta, however, fixed her gaze on the man called Lanche Casper.
'Who is that?'
He wore a wide-brimmed hat, its front lowered enough to obscure his face down to the bridge of his nose. Below that, a beard covered his chin, and his gray hair reached his shoulders.
An "Ah" nearly escaped her lips, but Roberta swallowed it. Behind her, she heard Fritz do the same. The man, who had been following Gafier up the stairs in the center of the hall, slowed his steps and glanced back at the two of them.
Lanche Casper was Ulrich.
None of his usual neat appearance remained. If he had not turned around—if he had simply kept his face hidden beneath the brim and remained silent—Roberta might not have recognized him at all.
He gave a slight nod and continued up the stairs.
"..."
The two of them continued staring blankly at the staircase even after Ulrich disappeared upstairs. After a long while, they returned to the Meyer estate.
Ulrich did not return even by evening.
It was only slightly past noon the next day that he came back to the Meyer estate. Roberta and Fritz, who had just begun lunch, greeted him from the table.
"Were you eating?"
Saying that, he sat in the chair across from Roberta. Holding a piece of bread in her right hand, she studied him.
His appearance was as neat as ever. Black hair, no beard, no hat.
It was as if the man she had seen in the mage's hall the day before had never existed. Receiving their gazes, he lifted a teacup filled with pine-flower tea.
"I imagine you have many questions."
"Ah… yes. Quite a lot."
Setting down her bread, she asked,
"Why were you like that yesterday?"
"If you mean the disguise, it was because the wedding is near."
Ulrich explained that people were gathering from all over, and someone might recognize his face. At least until the wedding, he intended to use an alias.
"You seemed very skilled at it. Have you done that often?"
"I had no choice," Ulrich replied, taking a sip of tea.
"Changing one's name is often meaningless if one does not also change one's appearance. Experience has led me to this."
"Do you not use magic to alter your appearance?"
"Unfortunately, I do not possess such a talent."
"Is that so?"
She tilted her head.
His words sounded as though he could not directly use transformation magic. Then what about asking another mage to alter his appearance?
The question did not leave her lips. There was no way he had not tried it before. She could imagine it—just as wounds reverted as if time had been turned back, any altered appearance would also return to its original form.
"..."
Narbakayani, the dragon of the Ice Peninsula, had called him a human who neither aged nor died. That could be described as immortality or eternal life—but Roberta thought of something else.
Fixation.
Perhaps he was fixed at the moment his body had been granted endless life—that was why, even if his appearance changed, it would immediately revert.
After a moment, Roberta spoke again.
"What kind of name is Lanche Casper?"
"It is a name I received while in Dithmarschen."
Dithmarschen? It was a far more recent name than she had expected.
"As you might guess from the surname, the one who gave me that name was a mage. Do you remember what I said about the Galua who controlled magical beasts? That there are several sects that stand in doctrinal opposition to Kormillius."
"You mentioned separatists… or non-deists, as heretics."
"You remember."
With a look of realization, she stared at him.
"The mage Casper, who gave me the name Lanche, is one of those non-deists."
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