Trinity of Magic

For a heartbeat, Leo thought their entrance had interrupted something.

The silence in the banquet hall felt unnatural. Dozens upon dozens of faces turned toward them at once, and the weight of so many gazes made his steps falter.

Then Zeke moved.

He stepped into the hall with the same easy smile he had worn outside, as if he couldn’t even feel the gazes pressing down on them. That single step broke the strange spell, and life returned to the quiet hall.

As he followed, Leo tried his best not to look stiff, which was easier said than done.

He recognized many of the people gathered here, if not by their faces, then at least by their names and reputations. He had studied what he could in preparation for this day, reading reports, memorizing crests, and glancing over whatever portraits and descriptions Akasha had been able to provide.

Even so, seeing them in person was different. No amount of studying could have prepared him for what it felt like to stand in the presence of these giants. Their very eyes seemed to hold some power of petrification, judging by how hard it was to move his limbs normally.

Only when Zeke led them away from the center of the room, toward a small table laden with refreshments, did the majority of the gazes finally leave them, allowing Leo to breathe.

Zeke gave him a sideways glance and a half smile. “Quite nerve-racking, isn’t it?”

Leo grimaced. He knew what his brother was doing.

Among their party, he was the only one who had tensed up. David, who had walked beside him, hadn’t reacted at all, and judging by the grin on Vulcanos’ face, the Chimeroi seemed more excited about the food than nervous about the guests.

Leo tried to calm his nerves by ignoring the constant tingling of his Mana Sense, which warned him of the presence of so many powerful Mages. It didn’t really work. It was like a man on a tightrope forcing himself not to look down.

However, as the minutes passed and nobody really paid him any attention, he began to grow used to the feeling enough so that he could start inspecting the guests.

The two people Leo recognized most easily were Karas Skarn of the Unending Brigade and Loyd Cairnwyc, an elder of House Cairnwyc of Valour.

Both had shared a camp with the Hohenheim Mercenary Company for the past weeks, and Leo had become familiar with many of the men serving under them. His impression of both men was rather good. They had never acted high-handed or arrogant toward him, though he guessed that was at least partly because they wanted to build a friendly relationship with his brother.

Next, he noticed a group wearing white ceremonial robes marked with deep crimson thread. The crests on their chests showed a disembodied hand suspended above three red droplets. The Bloodletter family. Relatives of Zeke through his paternal line, though he had never recognized them as such.

Another group that stood out was made up of towering figures clad in white armor. Hard men wearing even harder expressions. Leo would have bet his right hand that they were the Bone Mages of the Ossyrian family.

Their group seemed more out of place in the festive atmosphere than any other, as if they had come only because someone had ordered them to and were already waiting for permission to leave again.

As his gaze wandered, Leo began to puzzle out the identities of most groups, from local retainers to foreign envoys. Akasha’s education proved its worth in moments like these. It was no wonder Zeke always seemed to recognize everybody.

Then Leo’s gaze paused on the only spot in the hall that was almost devoid of people.

There were two portraits there.

The first bore the name of Marek Volst. A black ribbon had been tied around it. Leo had heard the rumors. The man had chased the Legion, and only a small part of his force had returned. Whether he was dead or merely lost, nobody seemed to know.

The other was of Ryn Greymarch. Leo had not known the man personally, but he had heard the name. As the only mercenary commander native to Rukia, he had become quite well known. This was the first time Leo had heard of his death.

After committing their appearances to memory, his gaze left the portraits and once again swept the hall, making sure he hadn’t overlooked any of the important factions. When he was certain, Leo allowed his attention to settle on the person around whom the entire hall seemed to turn.

The new queen, Miriel Arden Rukia, sat at the raised table near the end of the hall. She wore a deep green dress threaded with gold, and a circlet of living wood rested on her brow.

She looked younger than he had expected. Yet, surrounded by the banners of her house and the quiet attention of the hall, she did not seem lacking for the role.

It was a surprise, really.

The retainers who had accompanied Zeke to the last strategy meeting had sworn that his brother had played her like a fiddle, to the point that she had been close to tears.

Hearing that description, Leo had imagined her as a weak, pitiful girl who had been thrown into political depths she was ill-prepared for. But looking at her now, those stories were hard to believe.

The entire hall seemed to orbit her position, conscious of her mood and wary of her attention. And the queen, for her part, seemed to bask in that feeling of power, as if she had been born to bear it. She looked like the spitting image of a dignified ruler, noble and upright. She barely even glanced at most of the people vying for her attention.

Half a dozen diplomats, envoys, and advisers stood close. Those of lesser importance lingered at the perimeter, just far enough not to seem too nosy, but close enough that they might still be noticed.

Leo watched their quiet dance, slowly realizing that a banquet hall like this had its own battlefield. Every step, every glance, every place at every table seemed to say something about rank and allegiance.

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Just then, a group of palace attendants approached, reminding Leo he also stood on that very same stage.

“Lord Hohenheim.”

They bowed in perfect sync.

“Her Majesty has prepared seats for you and your honored companions. If you would follow me?”

Zeke inclined his head. “Lead the way.”

The attendants turned, and their group followed. But a few steps later, Leo realized something was wrong. They were not being led to one table.

He stopped instinctively and looked back.

Zeke caught his gaze and gave him a small nod.

Leo hesitated for a moment longer before following the attendant to a table occupied by several young officers and noble heirs. They rose when he approached, greeting him with smiles.

“Lord Leo,” one of them said. “It is an honor. We have heard much of your deeds.”

Leo sat down slowly, ignoring the greeting as he observed his original party.

Across the hall, Vulcanos had been seated among people Leo didn’t recognize, though they seemed to be veterans of some kind. He looked displeased enough that none of them chose to speak to him immediately. But even from a distance, it was obvious how eager they were.

Cassius and Rhea had been placed near a group of officials who seemed familiar with them, speaking in low voices.

Irisen was seated at the center of Rukia’s inner circle, among Archmages and court figures who greeted her as one of their own.

Elder Tiger and Elder Dragon were guided toward a table where a lavish feast had been prepared. A small group waited nearby, stealing glances at them, likely waiting for the right time to approach.

Leo frowned deeply.

Their party, which had been unrivaled in strength even in this gathering, had been fractured in an instant.

Leo looked toward Zeke once more. His brother had taken his seat, calm as ever, one hand resting lightly beside his cup. Unlike with the others, nobody approached him, and nobody seemed to be waiting for a chance to have quiet words with him.

Surprisingly, he did not seem offended or even surprised by what was happening. If Leo didn’t know better, he might have even guessed that Zeke hadn’t realized that anything was wrong.

Leo’s gaze remained on him for a moment longer.

Then he sighed.

There was no point in worrying about his brother, especially not in a setting like this. If Zeke wasn’t worried, then why should he be?

Deciding to let it go, Leo finally greeted the figures at his table, some of whom seemed vaguely familiar from his days working with the Resistance.

He found that conversation flowed quite smoothly. These people were all around his age, and they had enough stories to share, each with their own achievements during the war.

The banquet began soon after.

Servants moved between the tables, filling cups and setting down dishes that were filling rather than extravagant. Music played softly from somewhere near the back of the hall, but few seemed to listen.

Leo ate and spoke, sharing his own stories from time to time, but mostly listening to the experiences of the others. From their stories, he realized once again how hard the war had been on the locals.

His own hardships had ended after his brother arrived, but these officers had continued to roll around in the mud for the past few months.

He became so engrossed in their tales that he didn’t even notice the passage of time. But at some point, the sound of a bell rang out. Once. Twice. Thrice. The conversation around the hall quickly dimmed to a few scattered whispers, and then to silence.

When the hall had become completely still, the queen rose from her throne.

“Honored guests and defenders of Rukia,” she began. “Friends, allies, commanders, and those who bled upon our soil. Tonight, I welcome you not merely as guests, but as those to whom this kingdom owes its survival.”

Her voice carried clearly through the hall.

“But that survival has not been without cost,” she said. “Lives were lost, cities destroyed, and vast stretches of land have been devastated. The best of us are no longer, and far too many who should have been here are not.”

Nobody spoke.

“Tonight, we will honor them.”

The words pressed down on the hall.

Leo saw several Rukians lower their eyes.

For a moment, he forgot to feel uneasy. He could not deny that she spoke well.

“But it is not only the fallen who deserve recognition,” the queen said. “Everyone in this hall tonight is deserving of that very same honor. And while we must honor the dead by remembering them, we also must not forget to honor the living...”

The room seemed to lean toward her.

“Gold, treasures, resources, tax exemptions, trade privileges, reconstruction contracts, supply rights, and honorary titles will all be made available. Those who wish for such rewards will receive them in accordance with their merits...”

The queen quickly listed the different types of rewards, but by the way she brushed past them, Leo recognized that there was something else to come.

The expected “but” came right after.

“But in the aftermath of a war without precedent, I find the usual catalogue of rewards lacking in expressing the true depth of my gratitude.”

That caught the attention of nearly everyone.

“That is why I will open a new type of reward, one that has never been made available to outsiders in the long history of Rukia. And one that will never again be offered after this.”

Leo found himself leaning forward. He was far from the only one.

The queen smiled, her eyes slowly gliding over the entire hall before she spoke.

“Land...”

With her word as a signal, a giant map unfurled. It was large enough to fill the entire wall behind her from floor to ceiling.

Leo recognized it immediately as a map of Rukia. Concentric rings had been drawn on it, with the capital at its center.

“…and corresponding titles,” the queen finished.

The hall remained frozen, eyes darting between her and the map. The queen continued, unperturbed.

“Third-class merits shall serve as the base unit of calculation, corresponding to the lands of a Grovekeeper. A second-class merit shall be valued as three third-class merits. A first-class merit shall be valued as nine.”

Beside each of the concentric rings on the map, new symbols bloomed into view, marking land, rank, and title.

“Central territories, settled towns, and lands connected to existing roads will follow the standard exchange. Outer territories, damaged regions, abandoned domains, and borderlands requiring reclamation will be granted at a multiplied value. Those willing to shoulder greater burdens will receive greater recognition.”

Leo’s mind raced.

A third-class merit was enough to earn the lands belonging to the lowest rank of nobility, a Grovekeeper.

But that was for land near the capital.

His gaze moved outward, following the rings as they spread farther and farther from the center. The farther the land was from the heart of Rukia, the more could be claimed for the same merit. And according to what the queen had said, the title he would receive would correspond to the land he chose to claim.

Leo’s gaze went to the outermost ring. It displayed the very borders of Rukia, an area that had been untamed even before the war. It was mostly stretches of forest and mountains, undeveloped and infested with monsters, largely worthless.

But his eyes were not focused on that. They were focused on the number that had appeared next to the ring demarcating the region.

x9.

Nine times the reward.

That meant a single third-class merit was enough to claim the land belonging to nine Grovekeepers, almost the equivalent of a Gladelord.

Leo slowly pulled out the scroll he had tucked into the breast pocket of his robe. It was the very merit certificate that had haunted him for the last two weeks. His fingers tightened around the parchment as his eyes scanned the last few lines one more time, just to make sure he remembered it right.

Leo von Hohenheim… four third-class merits, two second-class merits.

That amounted to ten third-class merits altogether.

His eyes returned to the outermost part of the map.

Ten third-class merits, multiplied by nine.

That amount of territory wouldn’t only be a speck on the map anymore. It would be one of the larger territories in any of the cardinal directions.

Could he become a Warden? Standing over thousands, below only a few.

For the first time in a long while, Leo felt something stirring in his chest. It was a feeling he had thought abandoned long ago. Ambition. The desire to claim a part of the world for his own, to develop it, cultivate it, and pass it down to his descendants…

Leo pushed the feeling down the moment it emerged. Such desires were best left to the people with the temperament for it. He didn’t have a mind for numbers nor the patience for command.