Round Four: Confrontation

The Imperial Prison was located in the far northwest of Vatan City, occupying an entire small peninsula jutting into the sea. The narrow strip of land connecting the peninsula to the mainland was less than two hundred feet wide. A huge, thick iron gate separated Vatan City from the peninsula. The high walls of the prison met here with those of Vatan City, and a smooth cobblestone path led from the city straight to the prison’s massive iron gate. The prison’s outer walls, built in a circular pattern, were just as tall and strong as Vatan City’s walls. To those unaware, it would surely seem like a defensive fortress of Vatan.

O’Sullivan walked alone along the long road known as the “Path of Punishment.” Shrouded in the shadows of the high walls on either side, little sunlight reached this road. The Path of Punishment… As the prison gates slowly but steadily opened, O’Sullivan recalled his first visit here at the age of twelve, and he was momentarily stunned.

“My lord, your presence truly brings honor to our prison. We are extremely fortunate to have you here, to carry forward the legacy and keep pace with the times…” Warden Kassandra curled up his massive body, rubbing his thick hands together while wearing an infantile smile that made his beardless face look extremely comical.

“I’ve said it before, Kassandra—read more books. Don’t just spout nonsense the moment you open your mouth!” O’Sullivan continued walking without stopping, despite the warden being more than twice his height.

“Hehe, hehe, my lord, you are truly well-educated and know how to guide others. I will definitely learn from you and strive to become an expert in knowledge…” The two walked through the prison gates, followed by the creaking sound of the doors closing behind them.

O’Sullivan raised a hand to signal to Kassandra to stop his awkward and incoherent speech. “As usual, go about your duties. I’ll be back in a while!”

“Well, my lord, as you know, with all these recent events… it’s very difficult for me. It’s a constant struggle, full of dangers. The Council…” At that moment, Kassandra saw O’Sullivan’s gaze piercing through the morning mist, as if struck by lightning. “Okay, okay. Have a good journey. Wish you all the best…”

Prisons are the places where humanity is most easily erased. The old stone walls had narrow ventilation shafts that seemed to lead into dark caves, emitting no sign of life. O’Sullivan wandered alone through the prison, feeling unnaturally familiar with the paths, as if it were his home. The vast Imperial Prison was empty, with few guards even on patrol. In fact, ever since the mages gradually took control of Agus, the Imperial Prison had been used less often. Mages had countless ways to imprison souls and lives, and prisons were merely the least strict and most “merciful” form of imprisonment.

O’Sullivan turned and moved forward, passing through several heavily guarded checkpoints before arriving at a quiet courtyard. It was somewhat strange to find such a place inside a prison—it wasn’t like a cell, nor was it a place for guards to rest or work. There was even a pot of flowers in the courtyard. The small buildings surrounding it, though old, had a simple and elegant design, standing in contrast to the square fortresses and high walls. This was the imperial prison where nobles who committed crimes were imprisoned. Class and the resulting differences in treatment always existed, even among prisoners.

O’Sullivan approached a half-open door, pushed it gently without knocking, and entered.

The room was simply furnished—there was a somewhat worn but very clean bed, along with tables and chairs. Aside from being a bit brighter, it wasn’t much different from ordinary prison cells.

The dimly lit room exuded a cold and damp atmosphere. No matter how well it was kept, this was still a prison, and one surrounded by the sea.

“I’m glad to see you safe, Yuri. It seems your attempt to fight didn’t succeed after all.” Someone was sitting at the desk, back to the door, reading intently by the light coming through the window.

“As you predicted, Father.”

“Well…” The man turned around. The stubble on his chin made him appear older than he really was. His pale, thin face, illuminated poorly, had slight wrinkles, and his deep eyes revealed the hardships and trials he had endured. “What do you plan to do now?”

Isabella’s private residence was located in the port area southwest of Vatan City, far away from the central imperial palace and the towering buildings symbolizing imperial power. She rarely went out, neither to the Mage District where the Council was located nor to the Red Robe Mage strongholds in the trade district. Instead, she spent her days in this place where people from all walks of life gathered, as if the sailboats returning from the distant Maztica and the salty, damp sea winds of Victoria Bay were more attractive than the grand libraries in the Mage District.

O’Sullivan got off the carriage. A few small beggars who had been about to gather around scattered at the sight of him. It was the busiest time of the afternoon. Taverns lining the streets opened one after another. Sailors and dockworkers, after a day of hard work, laughed rudely and gathered in groups to find some fun. The air was filled with the scent of sea wind and fish, making O’Sullivan, who had just come from the luxurious noble district, feel as if he were in two different worlds.

He knocked on the doorbell and waited quietly.

A slit opened in the brass door, and an ugly bald man covered in tattooed patterns poked his head out. “What do you want?”

O’Sullivan followed the bald warrior, who was essentially a bodyguard and enforcer for the Red Robe Mages, up to the second-floor living room. Then the bald man turned and left, leaving O’Sullivan alone in the room, without even a glass of water.

The living room wasn’t large, but its decoration was extremely luxurious. Thick, scarlet curtains blocked all external light, and the room was rather dim, lit only by two wall sconces. Fortunately, it was still possible to see clearly.

O’Sullivan stood in front of the fireplace, admiring a portrait hanging on the wall that seemed to be quite old. It was clearly the lady of the house, dressed in a scarlet robe that was simple yet full of subtle hints. Her face, ageless and graceful, exuded nobility. The only thing that gave a slight chill was the fact that Isabella had completely bald head—her head even added a touch of humor, even eeriness, to the entire painting.

Then O’Sullivan’s attention was drawn to several smaller frames above the fireplace. One of them was a photo of Isabella with another younger mage in a red robe. Needless to say, it was her student, Morriel. Both were smiling slightly, but Isabella’s smile was more kind, while Morriel appeared more serious. Just as O’Sullivan wanted to take a look at the other portraits, a faint noise came from behind him.

“What a rare visitor… Lord O’Sullivan.” It was Isabella. Her housecoat was also a red robe, just like in the painting, with the only difference being that her smooth, shiny black hair was styled into an elegant updo. “Please sit… Why stand there foolishly?”

“I’m sorry for being presumptuous and disturbing you without prior notice…” O’Sullivan took out a small gift box from his pocket. “This is a material used by the local barbarian tribes in their witchcraft rituals during my inspections in Maztica. Although they are a completely uncivilized race, I found their rituals quite interesting after accidentally witnessing them, so I brought some. Perhaps it might be useful to a learned mage like you!”

“Hehe, I didn’t expect you to be so thoughtful!” Isabella habitually covered her chin with her hand and let out that falsetto-like laugh again. “I’m truly grateful to you!”

“So, what do you hope to get from me?”

Isabella’s next words made O’Sullivan’s relaxed heart tighten again. This woman was indeed no ordinary person.

“Lady Isabella is really generous. I heard that your student, Miss Morriel, successfully repelled the elves’ several counterattacks at the front lines and even ruined their evil ritual to summon demons. I’m not too familiar with the details, but it’s an undeniable fact that Miss Morriel has made great contributions. As for my situation, I believe you may be aware of it. I hope to return to the imperial army through your connections and Miss Morriel’s recommendation, to serve the empire again…” At that moment, the bald warrior with a blank expression finally came in carrying a tea tray. O’Sullivan promptly ended his speech, staring straight at the senior red-robed mage before him with a composed expression.

“You are indeed an outstanding young noble…” Isabella waved her hand, and the bald man who had served drinks to both the host and guest immediately stepped back. “But it’s truly heartbreaking that the illustrious O’Sullivan family has fallen to such a state!”

O’Sullivan clenched his fists on his knees a little tighter, but his tone remained unchanged: “One should look forward. At the very least, I won’t shut myself out of the center of power because of an accident. What’s lost can taste even sweeter once regained, don’t you think, Lady Isabella?”
A slightly awkward silence fell over the small living room. O’Sullivan picked up the teacup in front of him and sipped gently, appearing quite composed.
“I’m sorry, it seems I can’t be of much help to you. Although Kristina was my student, she has now joined Agus’s army… And you know more about military affairs than I do. When would it be my turn, a mere girl, to recommend someone like you, Count O’Sullivan? The real key lies with the Supreme Council, doesn’t it?” Isabella spoke calmly, with only a slight tremor when mentioning Kristina’s name.
“Kristina?”
“That’s another name for Morriel,” Isabella said, lifting her teacup with natural elegance. “It was the name she used when she was still my student.”
“That’s right… You must have heard. Our O’Sullivan family has always had some misunderstandings with the Mage Council. Amid these regrettable long-term disputes, inevitable sacrifices have occurred that I wish I hadn’t seen…” O’Sullivan suddenly seemed distracted, as if lost in memories.
“It’s not just a matter of misunderstanding… Really, I’m just an insignificant woman. I was able to establish myself in Vatan and have the fortune to speak with a young and talented noble like you only because of the protection of our Red Robe Mages…” Isabella, seemingly unaware of O’Sullivan’s distraction, continued on her own: “Speaking of which, Morriel’s achievements today… are thanks to you, Lord O’Sullivan!”
“Oh… oh?” O’Sullivan seemed to come back to his senses. “Thanks to me?”
“Have you forgotten? As far as I know, it was you who ordered the search of Morriel’s residence in Rain City and obtained Lum’s research notes. The ensuing struggle resulted in most of the notes being lost. That’s why, to this day, Morriel can still use them to hold onto the hearts of those high mages in the Supreme Council who are desperate for Lum’s notes…”
“You mean Morriel got everything she has just because she’s the only one who’s seen Lum’s magic books?”
“Is that inconceivable?” Isabella set down her teacup, which was now completely dry, not even a trace of moisture left, as if it had been baked dry. “It seems you don’t realize the importance of those research notes. I suggest you reevaluate the empire’s military strength. What Morriel brings to the Mage Council is not just a mage who can fight in battle!”
In the mage district on the eastern slopes, seven mage towers, each taller than the last, rose in a spiral pattern. Their silver-white peaks, reaching into the clouds, glowed with magical light, even overpowering the reflection of the sun—

Perhaps rather than the Agus Imperial Palace, this place is the true center and source of power of the Agus Empire. The tower complex not only overlooks the entire city of Vatan from a high vantage point but also draws the attention of any merchant ship entering Victoria Bay or traveler coming from the Tanori Plains—first and foremost, the towering and majestic seven towers, inspiring awe at their unimaginably powerful and mysterious strength.

Singh’s study was located on the top floor of the tallest archmage tower. Looking out the window, one could even feel the white clouds drifting nearby. Singh, the supreme leader of the Mage Council and at the peak of human strength, the greatest archmage of Agus, sat in his spacious chair, studying an ancient spell scroll through a magnifying glass.

“The little brat from the O’Sullivan family is in prison?” The obscure symbols on the scroll kept Singh’s frown intact.

“Yes, he drove to the prison early the morning after the palace ball,” replied a mage who appeared about the same age as Singh but bowed respectfully before him like a schoolchild.

“Such impatience… He’s not even half as good as his father,” Singh said slowly.

“We’ve already sent people to eavesdrop on their conversations. Rest assured, nothing can escape the Council’s notice.”

“No need… It’s just him seeking advice from his father. I guess it was Nee Et who taught him to challenge others at the banquet yesterday… It’s nothing to worry about.”

“Yes, no matter how clever and capable he is, he’s still just a warrior.”

“That’s not entirely true… I’ve been playing chess with the O’Sullivan family for decades. It’s quite interesting to guess their next move each time… For an old man like me, that’s the only pleasure left.” Singh continued to study the scroll closely through the magnifying glass without lifting his head. “But you need to pay more attention to the war with the Night Elves… The recent developments are beyond my expectations. As you know, I hate surprises the most.”

“Yes, rest assured…” The old mage bowed and stepped back. Without turning to open the door, he somehow disappeared.