Two years had passed since Zane rescued the last of the Five Calamities, and four since he began his correspondence with Eris. Only six years remained until the start of the original story. Count Valerius was dead. The official cause was heart failure. Anyone in the household, however—anyone with eyes to see—knew the truth. It was a drug overdose. A sordid end, fitting for a man of his appetites. No one mourned him. The servants and retainers received the news with a quiet, unshakable calm. This was no surprise. The Count had been a broken man for years, spiraling toward his inevitable end in a haze of narcotics. It would have been stranger if he hadn't died this way. His life had been a monument to indulgence, wasted on women and drugs. Not a single noble house sent condolences. His two remaining sons were equally unmoved. The eldest, Darius, had seen this coming for a long time and remained utterly indifferent. Instead of mourning, he was consumed by his war with the Sapphire Order organization, his days filled with hushed, urgent meetings with his loyal retainers. Zane felt much the same. His father had always turned a blind eye while his older brothers tormented him. In all the time Zane had inhabited this body, he had never once exchanged a single word with the Count. Theirs was a relationship of mutual apathy. And so, the Count's death passed in silence, unremarked by a single tear. A week later, House Valerius remained without a formal head. An old family tradition dictated that a successor would not be named in the same year the previous one had died. In truth, nothing changed. Since Zane’s arrival, the Count had been a figurehead, doing nothing while his retainers managed the estate and lined their own pockets. And in the midst of it all, Zane… “Young Master, I must say, it’s truly astonishing.” “What is?” “To reach the 2nd tier in only two years, with no master and no time at the Magic Tower… is that even possible?” Zane had been learning magic for self-defense. Still just a parlor trick, though. He watched the three small spheres of crackling energy spin in his palm before dismissing them with a soft sigh. Talent is all well and good, but… Two years ago, Zane had been overjoyed to discover his aptitude for magic. In the world of Aethelgards Bane, magic was a gift, something one could only wield if born with the necessary talent. And Zane’s was exceptional. A typical mage required four years of dedicated study to reach the 2nd tier. He had done it in two, self-taught. While he wasn't a heaven-sent prodigy, his natural ability was a rare thing indeed. He could feel it in the way he manipulated mana, a precision far beyond that of his peers. The display he’d just performed—levitating three electrical orbs in a perfect, miniature orbit—was a useless show of force, but it required a level of fine control few could ever hope to achieve. If only my mana core were bigger. This was why he considered his talent half-baked. His mana core, the very wellspring of his power, was a great deal smaller than average. Not just small—abnormally so. While it was possible to expand one's core through rigorous training, his was so stunted that he held little hope for significant growth. A mana core was like a man’s stature; it was something you were born with. There is one way around it, if it comes to that… As Zane considered the possibility, Gideon spoke again. “Young Master, what are your plans now?” “What do you mean?” “Well, next year the eldest young master will become the head of the family, won’t he?” Gideon asked, quickly correcting himself after almost referring to the heir with a dangerous lack of deference. Zane understood the question behind the question. “I’ll be leaving.” “…Leaving the estate?” “Not entirely. I’m just moving to a lesser holding.” “Lesser… You mean Oakhaven?” Zane nodded. “That’s right.” Oakhaven. The village was a four-day journey south of Valerium, the heart of the Count’s domain. It was technically under the family’s control, but it was a quiet, moderately prosperous place. “I’ll be taking up residence there.” “…But why?” Gideon asked, his confusion plain. Gideon couldn’t see it, of course, but this was the final piece of Zane’s plan. From the very beginning, his goal had been simple: rescue the Five Calamities from their tragic fates, alter the future, and live out his days as a comfortable noble in a world that wasn't destined for ruin. In that respect, Oakhaven is the perfect choice. First, it was home to a mansion that had belonged to the third Count Valerius. Second, the village was stable and self-sufficient, making it unlikely that Darius, the future Count, would pay it any mind before his own fated demise. And third, its distance from the main estate—four days by carriage—would keep Zane far from the hero’s crusade of justice and retribution when the original story finally began. Once he was in Oakhaven, his plan would be complete. Finding it tedious to explain all this, he offered Gideon a simple platitude. “Everything in its own time.” “…You always say that when you don’t want to explain, Young Master.” Zane didn't grace the remark with a reply. Instead, he rose to his feet. “Since we’re on the subject, we should start packing.” It was time to go to Oakhaven. One month later, Darius Valerius—eldest son, heir to the County, and underworld leader of the organization known as Cerberus—watched his younger brother’s carriage depart. A single knight rode alongside it. He stood on the balcony, lost in thought. What to do about him? The question was whether to kill Zane or not. Truthfully, Darius had never considered him a threat. Not when they were children, and not now. His second brother, the late Silas, had always been a rival, baring his fangs in a desperate bid for succession. But Zane… Zane had always kept his head down, a ghost in the halls, forever watching and staying out of everyone’s way. He had changed slightly in recent years, but his fundamental attitude remained the same. Even now, he was voluntarily moving to the outskirts simply to avoid getting on Darius’s bad side. “Hmm…” Darius’s original plan had been to dispose of Zane quietly, to have him die of a drug overdose just as their father had. But with Zane exiling himself to Oakhaven, it hardly seemed necessary. The boy had willingly stepped aside, showing no intention of ever becoming an enemy. There was no reason left to kill him. And yet, Darius still debated it. There was no grand, strategic reason for his hesitation. He didn't fear that Zane would somehow seize power from a remote village. Nor was he disgusted by his brother’s subservience. In truth, Darius had never felt a shred of familial affection for Zane, or for anyone in his family. In the end, the reason he considered murder was simple: Zane annoyed him. When Zane had come to him a month ago, head bowed, meekly requesting permission to move to Oakhaven, something about the display had grated on his nerves. Perhaps it was because he’d just received a report that one of Cerberus’s branches had failed to meet its targets, leaving him in a foul mood. Whatever the cause, for that fleeting irritation, Zane's life now hung by a thread. “Varis.” “Yes.” “Follow that carriage. Do it quietly.” It took less than a minute to decide. From Darius’s perspective, Zane was a thing he could discard on a whim. He gave the order. But the man who appeared at his side suddenly spoke. “…You mean to kill him?” Darius’s head snapped around. He felt a flash of annoyance. Two years ago, this man had proven his use and, after numerous trials, had become one of Darius’s most trusted subordinates. He was not the type to question an order. He was a weapon that followed commands without hesitation or doubt. “Do you think family means anything to—” Darius began to scold what he assumed was a moment of misplaced sentiment. A blade slid between his ribs. A choked sound, not words, escaped his lips. He coughed, and a spray of crimson misted the air. His face twisted in shock, his mind refusing to process what had just happened. He looked down. The hilt of a sword protruded from his chest, sunk deep into his heart. “B-Betrayal…” Rage began to burn through the shock, but the man who had stabbed him spoke with cold indifference. “This is not betrayal. I was never loyal to you to begin with.” “W-What are you…?” “I was merely waiting for you to give this order.” At those words, Darius’s expression, a mask of fury and confusion, began to curdle into horror as a single face surfaced in his mind. The face of Zane, third son of House Valerius. But it made no sense. Varis—no, Kaelen—had been at his side for over two years. Darius had trusted him completely, even allowing the man to guard his back for the last year. Kaelen could have killed him at any time. As if reading the disbelief in his eyes, Kaelen offered a final explanation. “We are merely the sword of the Great Moon, moving only when she wields us. This is our creed, the unbreakable rule taught to us by the Sapphire Order. However… when someone threatens the one she holds dear, our swords move on their own.” Crack! “Gaah!” Kaelen twisted the blade, shattering bone. “…And that is why you were allowed to live until now.” He ripped the sword free. Darius collapsed, his face hitting the stone of the balcony. His eyes still blazed with impotent rage as he choked on his last words. “My… men… they… won’t—” “Don’t worry,” Kaelen said, his voice devoid of emotion. “The moment you gave that order, Cerberus was destined to be wiped from this continent.” Kaelen, a member of the Sapphire Order and one of Eris’s direct subordinates, glanced down at the dying man. “It’s a pity. The Great Moon gave you a chance.” With that, he turned and walked away. Darius died shortly after, never understanding. His was a cold and solitary end. Three days after arriving in Oakhaven, Zane was summoned back to the main estate. The reason was simple: Darius, eldest son and heir to the County of Valerius, was dead. And with his inexplicable death, Zane—who had been found toasting bread over a small fire in a remote corner of the mansion, there being no servants to attend to him—was hurriedly called to the capital. By then, a new title had already begun to follow him, whispered in the hushed tones of rumor and fear: The Hidden Hand of the Count's Family.

Chapter 4: A House in Decay