A low thrum of anxiety hummed through the garden adjacent to the grand conference hall. The air, thick with the endless smoke of smoldering cigarettes, was filled with the furtive whispers of officials in formal attire, their figures darting through the manicured hedges like agitated specters.
A man with his suit jacket slung over his arm stepped through the entrance, and his colleagues immediately waved him over.
“Come, join us. Over here.”
“You’re all early,” the man noted, approaching the small cluster.
“The news was shocking enough to sober me up instantly,” one of them confessed. “I came straight here without even changing. The conference will likely begin within the hour, but… hmm. What’s the reaction from your people?”
Sparks flared in the dim light as cigarettes were lit all around. The newcomer could only offer a weary smile and a helpless shrug.
“At first, they didn’t believe a word of it. When I told them Ian Hielo, the long-lost Minister of Magic, had returned in the body of a child, they told me to go sleep it off.”
“I got the same response. Damned fools.”
“I don’t see anyone from the Administration.”
“It’s more comfortable for everyone that way. They’ll appear just in time for the meeting. Does anyone truly doubt the Crown Prince’s trust in the Minister of Magic? There’s no need to test the political winds on this.”
“It was telling enough when Romandro, who came from the Administration, joined the Ministry of Magic.”
“Romandro only transferred because Minister Ian personally invited him.”
“Is that so?” The question came from a newly appointed official, his face a mask of confusion. “But I find it all rather puzzling. Why would His Highness the Crown Prince welcome the Minister back so openly? Of course, a functioning Ministry of Magic benefits all of Bariel, but hasn’t it been managed adequately all these years? They practically treated the Ministry as a subsidiary of the Administration. With the Minister’s return, won’t that control be lost?”
The more seasoned officials exchanged cautious glances, their eyes sweeping the darkened garden. The Judiciary and the Legislature were huddled together beneath a large zelkova tree, while the Ministry of Culture was raising a clamor near the central fountain. Even amidst the noise, a dizzying web of keen, calculating gazes crisscrossed the space.
“You must understand,” a senior official murmured, his voice low, “it was the Minister of Magic who elevated His Highness, then fifth in line to the throne, to the position of Crown Prince. Ahem.”
“Ha! That’s absurd. The boy looks like he’s barely out of his teens.”
“You must not be fooled by appearances. In his time, he was the one who brought a blade-sharp wind of change through this palace.”
“Enough, enough, that’s not what’s important right now. The Minister has returned. The question is, what do we do now?”
“Palace power will inevitably consolidate around the Administration and the Ministry of Magic,” another official stated grimly. “When that happens, our own influence will naturally diminish.”
For the good of Bariel, they viewed their right to speak and their influence as both a privilege and a sacred duty. What they truly schemed for in the privacy of their hearts was another matter, but their public cause was, on the surface, suitably noble.
“And with the late Emperor’s funeral just passed, His Highness Jin seems to be looking for an opportunity to make his move. Tsk.”
“That’s not the only problem. With the Minister’s seat vacant for so long, we’ve all been treating the Ministry of Magic like a public resource, haven’t we? That will no longer be possible, which will make our own operations significantly more difficult.”
When their budgets ran dry, they had simply concocted a plausible excuse to pull funds from the Ministry. After all, its power had been curtailed, it had no large-scale projects, and with no one truly in charge, there was no one to lodge a forceful protest. More than one department had ‘borrowed’ funds with a vague promise of repayment upon the next budget allocation.
“Damn it all, what a mess.”
“You can say that again. I needed at least two more months to sort things out.”
The same was true of manpower. When they were short-staffed, they simply requisitioned mages, who could accomplish more in the field than dozens of ordinary personnel. Under the grand pretext of serving the palace, the ministers’ requests for cooperation could not be denied by Romandro, who was merely the Minister’s proxy, not the Minister himself.
“If I had known it would come to this, I would have pushed to dismantle the Ministry of Magic entirely. I mean, does it make any sense for the Minister’s post to be vacant for nearly a decade? Tsk. And now, with His Highness having come of age and his coronation imminent, that ship has well and truly sailed.”
“The best-case scenario would be to have Ian Hielo removed from his post, but with the unwavering support of the Crown Prince and the Ministry itself, that seems unlikely. Our most prudent course of action would be to buy ourselves more time.”
“Hmm. I agree.”
One of the men produced a neatly folded document from his coat. It was a report, outlining in perfect order the various suspicions that had conveniently faded away after Ian Hielo’s disappearance. And, as an addendum, a list of potential ‘charges’ that could be brought against him.
“Excellent. This is how we’ll proceed.”
“What of the other departments?”
“The Ministries of Justice and the Judiciary will likely be fractured by internal dissent. The Ministry of Culture, however, is firmly against Ian Hielo and the mages. Did they not lose priceless palace treasures during that fiasco ten years ago? We can certainly hold him responsible for that.”
They nodded in grim unison, their resolve hardening. The sight of palace staff moving with increasing urgency signaled that the clock was about to strike midnight.
Clatter, clatter!
“The Ministry of Magic has arrived.”
“…They’re here.”
“Ahem. Let us go.”
The officials extinguished their cigarettes one by one and rose to their feet. In the distance, they saw carriages pulling up before the grand conference hall, each bearing the crest of the Ministry of Magic. The main actors of the evening had made their entrance.
***
Hee-eigh!
Screech.
“We’ve arrived, Lord Ian.”
A mage swung the carriage door open, and Ian looked up from his papers. What a sight they had all longed to see: their Minister, hair swept back neatly, dressed in his formal uniform, diligently reviewing documents even while in transit. The mages’ faces softened with a fond, blooming warmth, but Romandro, sitting opposite them, snapped his fingers to ground them.
“You all look like you’re about to start weeping. Hey, this isn’t the Ministry headquarters, you know.”
“You’re one to talk, Lord Romandro! You were the one with a runny nose earlier!” a mage shot back. “And I’m not crying! I’m just… a little moved, that’s all.”
“Ian, I told you we could have left them behind,” Romandro grumbled.
Ian simply stepped out of the carriage, tucking the portfolio of documents under his arm. A grand conference in the dead of night. He mused. When was the last time there was such an urgent summons? For him, it felt like yesterday, yet at the same time, strangely distant.
The area was lit as bright as day, with staff from every department bustling up and down the grand staircase. Ian gave a slight nod and began to ascend.
“Let’s go.”
“Yes, Lord Ian!”
With Ian at their head, the mages began their procession up the stairs, each clutching a thick bundle of reports. The ambient chatter of the courtyard hushed at their approach, replaced by a wave of whispers as people shielded their mouths and stared.
“…He really is just a boy.”
“Can that truly be Ian Hielo?”
“What could have happened to him to leave him like this?”
“A fair number of mages have returned with him. Though it seems the contingent from the south has yet to arrive.”
“I’ve never seen so many from the Ministry of Magic gathered in one place.”
The atmosphere inside the conference hall was even more charged. The various groups, huddled in discussion, turned as one to face Ian, and an abrupt silence fell. The effect, though unintentional, was profoundly awkward.
With a detached air, Ian moved to find his designated seat, but his path was blocked by a woman who stepped before him.
“Lord Ian.”
“Ah, Lady Quintana.”
“My goodness… my goodness!”
It was Quintana, formerly of the Administration’s finance division and now a Minister in her own right. She looked a little different, yet fundamentally the same. So shocked was she that she seemed to forget all decorum, her eyes raking over Ian’s small frame. After a long moment of stunned contemplation, she finally found her voice. “…Are you alright?”
“Perfectly, thank you.”
“It’s a relief to see you back.”
“I appreciate that. Please, have a seat.”
The flurry of activity from the attendants signaled the Crown Prince’s imminent arrival. Ian gestured for Quintana to take her seat just as Maxim Tweller, Minister of Imperial Defense, and Captain Jeirutt entered the hall. They, too, met Ian’s gaze, their expressions a complex mixture of emotions.
“His Highness, Crown Prince Jin, enters!”
In a rustle of fine fabrics, everyone rose to their feet, greeting the prince with the formal etiquette of the court. As Ian watched Jin take his place, presiding naturally over the heads of the great departments, a strange feeling washed over him. In his absence, a decade had truly passed for Jin. The young prince who had once looked to him for guidance was gone, replaced by a sovereign.
“Everyone is present. Be seated,” Jin commanded, his voice ringing with authority. “As you are all aware, this emergency summons has been called to officially announce the return of Ian Hielo, Minister of the Ministry of Magic. However, we are not here merely to address a long-vacant post. We are here to discuss the reappearance of Rutherford, who vanished alongside Lord Ian all those years ago.”
A fresh wave of murmurs swept through the hall at this unexpected revelation. Information concerning Rutherford had been delivered directly to Jin from the Imperial Defense Ministry, and with Beric’s immediate dispatch, the matter had not yet been broached in a formal conference.
The mages began distributing their prepared reports to the ministers and high-ranking officials.
Rustle.
The only sound for a long moment was the frantic turning of pages. As if instructing them to read while he spoke, Ian added his own voice to the room.
“I am Ian Hielo, Minister of the Ministry of Magic. The documents you have just received contain a detailed account of the events that transpired in the Abyss, focusing on information that can be made public at this time.”
So there is classified information as well, the officials thought. Once they had absorbed the contents of the report, they straightened in their seats and looked to Jin, a clear sign they wished to question Ian.
Jin gave a silent, permissive nod.
“Lord Ian,” a man began, “first, allow me to offer my sincere congratulations on your return to Bariel. I trust you remember me?”
“Of course. Vice Minister Hammanna.”
“I am a Minister now. Ahem. According to your report, time flows differently between the Abyss and our world, which accounts for your appearance. Can you offer proof of this?”
“Proof?” Ian asked, his tone even. “What sort of proof do you require?” His very form was the evidence; what more could they possibly demand? The mages behind him narrowed their eyes in unison, while Jin merely tapped the edge of his papers, his expression unreadable.
“Proof that you are, in fact, Ian Hielo, the Minister who vanished. To be frank, while the explanation is comprehensible, it is not easily accepted. The chasm is a place swarming with demonic beasts, and you have returned in a state that defies all common sense. Surely you understand what this brings to mind for us… if you are truly Ian Hielo.”
Do you remember the Arsen Incident? The unspoken question hung in the air. A demonic beast had once infiltrated the palace, nearly causing Bariel to crumble from within. His demand was clear: Prove you are not a monster wearing a human guise.
Ian offered a bleached-white smile and nodded. “Firstly, Rutherford’s timeline will be similarly distorted, meaning his appearance will also be untethered from the passage of time. You may capture him and confirm this for yourselves. Secondly, my mother, Lady Philea, is currently residing within the palace. I am prepared to use a Homogeneity Potion to prove our blood connection.”
His replies were calm and fluid, as if he had anticipated every question.
“Furthermore, we could request Holy Water or the Oracle’s Light from the temple. You understand the implications, I am sure? If you recall the events of the past.” A monster would dissolve in holy water and would be unable to conceal its shadow from the Oracle’s Light. They had all witnessed it before. “If that is still insufficient, then I would recommend a personal visit to the Abyss. The Ministry of Magic will provide its full and heartfelt assistance to aid in your verification.”
If you wish, we will send you there ourselves. The thinly veiled threat hung in the air, and the minister could do nothing but fiddle awkwardly with his pen. A woman beside him raised her hand.
“You mentioned Lady Philea. Lord Ian Hielo, you must recall the suspicion that shadowed you in the past.”
“Yes,” Ian replied evenly. “The matter of my supposed imperial lineage.”
“Would you permit us to call Lady Philea as a witness?”
“Of course. You may even use a Truth Potion if you wish. However,” he added, his voice hardening slightly, “should you continue to raise questions about my parentage after the truth is established, I will consider it a grave insult to my mother and, by extension, to the Imperial Family. I will respond accordingly.” The message was unmistakable: You get one chance. After the results are in, you will hold your tongue.
The atmosphere grew more heated as questions flew from all corners.
“Do you still admit to having created Idgal?”
“I do. I simply did not foresee that it would prove so useful after all this time.” The creation of Idgal was no longer a stain on his past, but a testament to his potential though he had no intention of revealing whether he could still produce it.
“And how do you explain your relationship with Rutherford?”
“It was the result of a spell. It was not of my own free will.”
At this, the eyes of several officials lit up, sensing weakness.
“A spell, you say? Does that not mean you were powerless to stop him?”
“Lord Ian, as the Minister of Magic, you had a solemn duty to protect the palace. Yet, due to your lack of ability, you failed to prevent the intrusion of a mere merchant contingent and, as you have just confessed, you were unable to withstand Rutherford’s magic. I apologize for the harshness of my words, but can one truly say you possess the qualifications for this office?”
“Dozens of palace treasures were lost during Rutherford’s rampage! This was a failing of the Ministry of Magic of incalculable cost. Is it not right that you take responsibility?”
“At the time, all palace personnel involved were dismissed to restore the integrity of their offices. Lord Ian, you may have been a brilliant mage, but that was in the distant past, was it not? One cannot assume the skill of mages then is the same as it is now. The world has progressed.”
“And if it is the same, that presents its own problem. It would imply the Ministry of Magic has stagnated. Ahem.”
“If Lord Ian is to be reinstated as Minister, something more is required. Regardless of the different timelines, you are simply too young. I highly doubt your subordinates will feel the same sense of authority as before…”
Scritch. Scritch. Ian calmly recorded their accusations, his expression unchanging. Behind him, the mages’ glares could have sharpened steel, but the officials pointedly ignored them, offering only dry coughs.
Finally, with a soft thud, Ian set down his pen and began to respond to each point. He started with one.
“The gentleman who cited my youth as a problem—may I have your name?”
“What? Ah, I am Daph Rontine, of the Ministry of Culture.”
“Lord Rontine, have you not been in your post for long?”
“…I have not. This is my fifth year.”
“Oh, I see. My apologies,” Ian said, his voice laced with a subtle irony. “It simply seemed you were unaware of how His Highness Jin has been leading this palace.”
Jin had only just had his coming-of-age ceremony. Until today, he had governed the empire as a minor. To attack Ian for his youth was a blade that cut both ways, striking at the Crown Prince himself.
Ian glanced at Jin with a faint, knowing smile. Jin, leaning his chin on his hand, replied with a cool nonchalance that sealed the matter.
“Indeed. To think he has been at my side for five years and still remains so ignorant.”