Chapter Sixteen: Bill's Proposal

Of course, it was precisely due to the peculiar tastes of Countess Lister that Bill was chosen at the slave market and brought back to the estate. The Lister estate was far from lacking in handsome boys, but ever since Bill’s arrival, the Countess had shown him a special favor she extended to no one else. The reason was simple: while all the other boys were carefully selected from among the slaves, and made presentable through meticulous grooming and attire, they could not compare to Bill. Bill was of noble birth, with aristocratic blood flowing in his veins, a distinction none of the other boys could claim. Moreover, Bill’s character set him apart; after his family’s downfall and his own reduction to a commodity, bought and sold at whim, he had learned, even as a child, the cunning and slyness of the streets. Yet, this blend of aristocratic grace and streetwise guile made Bill all the more captivating to the Countess, who came to neglect the other boys entirely in her singular devotion to him.

Yet, despite the Countess’s affection, Bill found no happiness in it. Unlike the other boys, he had been raised with a refined education and found the Countess’s peculiar interests deeply repugnant. Thus, when he was granted certain privileges by her, he used them to carefully devise a plan of escape. His plan was executed flawlessly—he fled the estate. However, fortune did not favor him for long; almost immediately upon his escape, he was beset by thieves who stripped him of all his valuables. Alone in the Vera Empire, without friends or family, lost in an unfamiliar land, Bill soon found himself on the brink of starvation. In desperation, he reverted to thievery—a skill he had practiced before coming to the estate. Yet, fate was cruel: his very first targets turned out to be Veil and Charles Weiling. The events that followed seemed surreal; men from the Barbier Trading House—the slave dealers—recognized him. Just as he was certain he would be dragged back to the estate, Veil appeared, killed the slavers, and rescued him.

“He did save me, didn’t he?” Bill muttered to himself. It had been two days since the incident, yet he had heard nothing of any deaths at the Barbier Trading House. On reflection, he realized this was not surprising. After all, the youth who had intervened was a mage—a person granted special protection by imperial decree. Organizations like the Barbier Trading House would not dare risk provoking such power.

Following Veil’s instructions, Bill returned to the appointed place, anxiously glancing around and pacing restlessly. Truthfully, even he was unsure why he obeyed the mysterious youth—who called himself Cyathea—and waited here. Mage he might be, and of high standing, but everyone in the Empire knew that mages, for all their status, lacked real influence. If Bill wished to vanish, Veil could never track him down. Yet, inexplicably, Bill felt that perhaps following this youth’s command might bring him some unexpected benefit. After all, this was a mage.

Nodding resolutely, Bill steeled himself. Just then, a voice, all too familiar, sounded behind him, startling him out of his thoughts.

“I honestly thought you wouldn’t come.”

Veil regarded the bedraggled Bill before him, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Has your life really fallen to such a state?”

Bill understood immediately what Veil meant. He scratched his unruly, nest-like hair in embarrassment and replied, “Master Cyathea, do you think someone who can barely find enough to eat would care at all about his appearance?”

“A sense of humor, I see.”

Veil replied blandly, and did not dwell further on such trivialities. After a brief pause, he got straight to the point. “Enough of that. Let’s talk business. Tell me, where is the Lothsi Izigel Staff?”

“Master Cyathea, before we discuss this, may I confirm something?” Bill did not immediately answer, but asked Veil a question in return.

“Go ahead, what is it?” Veil spread his hands, inviting Bill to continue.

“Is it your intention to obtain the Lothsi Izigel Staff, Master Cyathea?”

At this, Bill appeared visibly nervous; his voice dropped almost to a whisper. In fact, he could have told Veil the staff’s location and left at once. Yet just moments ago, his thoughts had shifted, prompting him to take the risk of asking—a question that might reveal a secret of this mage called Cyathea, and for which he might well be killed.

“Yes. May I take it, then, that you have some means to help me acquire the Lothsi Izigel Staff?” Veil answered truthfully, directing the question back to Bill.

“No, Master Cyathea, I haven’t thought of anything yet. But before coming here, I suddenly realized something… May I pledge myself to your service?” Bill raised his head to look at Veil, and, as if fearing rejection, hurriedly added, “I know many secrets of the nobility, the imperial family, and the military; I understand the inner workings of the Empire that few could ever learn. I can help you gain entry into those circles, which, of course, would be essential to obtaining the Lothsi Izigel Staff!”

He said all this in a single breath, then stared anxiously at Veil, awaiting his response.

Time passed—perhaps only moments, yet it felt like an eternity—before Veil finally spoke. “It sounds… tempting. But can you tell me why you wish to serve me?”

“Because you’re a mage! Behind every mage stands the Mage Guild, even the Empire itself! With such backing, many things become possible. And, of course, you saved me… and, to be honest, I have nowhere left to hide. With your status as a mage, it would be no trouble to give me shelter.”

As he said this last part, Bill’s voice grew soft, betraying that this was his true motivation.