Let’s Go Together

Carlo de Inehart proposed relocating to a different place for a conversation with the mage who had just joined their party. This place was far too noisy and crowded with people—hardly a suitable environment for a quiet talk. The mage, Luce Fennigan, readily agreed to the suggestion.

The Gold Dragon rose lightly from his seat and glanced toward the bar situated at the front of the tavern. Then he spoke.

“Hold on a second.”

Huh? Carlo, who had been heading toward the door, turned his head toward Luce, who had suddenly changed direction. Striding confidently, Luce walked straight across the raucous tavern without hesitation.

Thud—!

A pristine white fist flew out in a flash and landed hard. Just imagining the pain that would cause made Carlo instinctively turn his head and wince. For a mage, his punches were no joke. Damn, that hit square on. That jaw won’t be moving for a while.

As the dragon moved, the dishes on the table clattered to the ground, mingling with the screams of startled patrons. The loudest sound among them came from the owner of the establishment, groaning in agony.

“…Ugh……”

The shopkeeper writhed on the floor, clutching his jaw where the dragon’s punch had landed.

“This isn’t how you do business. Don’t you think?”

The dragon magnanimously let the shopkeeper off with a single punch. He understood well enough that for humans, money could sometimes be the measure of all things. But understanding and forgiveness were not the same.

What a fiery temper. Leaning against the wall of the tavern, Carlo watched the Gold Dragon, silently musing to himself.

***

“So,” Carlo began.

“A mage without the De Rules seal of the Magic Association… A rare sight these days, huh? A self-taught mage who awakened without an academy or a master.”

“That’s right. But I can vouch for my skills.”

Luce responded coolly, undeterred by the suspicion in Carlo’s voice. The two men had left the noisy, chaotic tavern and stepped into a quiet, discreet establishment where privacy was ensured. Each table had its own server, and they only approached when a specially crafted bell was rung.

As someone recruiting party members, Carlo needed to ensure the man who called himself Luce Fennigan—someone he’d entrust his life to in the depths of a dungeon—was the real deal. That was why he’d brought him to this upscale café.

“‘I vouch for my skills’… huh.”

Ha, what a joke. Carlo chuckled softly behind his teacup. Mages, as a rule, were obsessed with the Magic Association’s seal—as if they couldn’t function without it. Claiming to be a mage without the seal was like a man without a sword declaring himself a swordmaster.

He considered the possibility that this man was just another smooth-talking fraud hiding behind a shiny façade.

“So then, what business do you have in the dungeon?”

“Business? I’m a mage. I’m going in simply because the dungeon is there.”

Luce answered curtly. Mages always acted on their own whims, deciding things with the flip of a hand whenever something piqued their curiosity. In situations like this—where explanations were tedious—it was convenient to use “mage” as a blanket excuse.

“Ah, I see.”

Just like now. Carlo nodded as if satisfied. A long-hidden dungeon and the treasures rumored to lie within would certainly be enough to stir a mage’s curiosity.

The perfectly steeped black tea touched his lips. Luce took a small sip. It was quite good. Carlo leaned on the table with his elbow propped and his chin resting on his hand, studying the man’s expression. The perpetually sullen face of the blond mage eased just slightly, and his brown eyes—just for a moment—seemed to shine the same golden hue as his hair.

“Looks like it’s to your liking?”

Luce lowered his gaze from the teacup and narrowed his eyes at Carlo, who was sitting directly across from him.

“You.”

“What?”

“Shouldn’t you be telling me what business you have in the dungeon?”

You, huh? Carlo’s brow creased ever so slightly. Even the server standing nearby with a tray in hand inhaled sharply at the mage’s impolite tone. The server didn’t know the blond young man, but the one sitting across from him looked every bit the noble scion of a prestigious family. It seemed only natural to expect an outburst of fury from the aristocrat at such blatant disrespect.

But instead—

Haha! Carlo burst into laughter at the insolent remark. Luce glanced sideways at the suddenly laughing man, then casually returned his attention to his teacup, clearly uninterested. It was a while before Carlo spoke again, having laughed to his heart’s content.

“My business—”

He lifted his previously set-down teacup with a graceful flick of his fingers and brought it to his lips. After quietly watching the man across from him for a moment, he finally spoke.

“Hmm, first—how much do you already know about the dungeon?”

“That the treasure inside is said to change the fate of the continent.”

“Good. Then there’s not much more I need to explain.”

“So you believe that ridiculous tale too?”

“Tale?”

Luce shrugged.

“That story about a single treasure changing the fate of the entire continent.”

It was a question Luce had pondered ever since the old days—back when the Gold Dragon amused himself by pretending to be human. But running a mercenary company left him with no time to even consider challenging a dungeon. Founding and managing such a company was far more exhausting and demanding than he’d anticipated. Tch, I got so caught up running that damn merc group, I barely had time to enjoy my own fun… Luce clicked his tongue inwardly.

And then—

“I believe it.”

Carlo’s clear voice cut through Luce’s thoughts of the past, drawing him back to the present. The man’s eyes, the color of fresh blood, glowed with striking clarity.

“Because if there’s someone who should be the one to change the fate of this continent—then it ought to be me.”

The dragon stared at Carlo in silence.

Was changing the continent’s fate truly such a big deal? It felt like a deeply personal, abstract ambition. There were no real metrics to define what counted as changing the continent’s fate—or failing to. It was such a vague goal. Dull, even.

Luce slowly lowered his teacup from his lips and finally spoke, confirming what he already suspected—that this guy’s so-called mission was utterly uninteresting.

“…If you just give me a little time to check out the treasure inside the dungeon, I don’t have any other conditions.”

“Good. That means I can get the mage’s input right away.”

Carlo gave a crisp nod, neatly wrapping up the deal. A request like that? More than acceptable on his end.

Clink. Luce set down the ornate teacup. Carlo found his gaze lingering on the way the mage’s elegant fingers brushed past the handle. After spending so much time surrounded by rough, brutish knights, it had been a while since he’d seen such unblemished, ivory-white hands.

“When do we enter the dungeon?”

“…What’s the rush? My knights are prepping outside. You can relax and finish your tea here.”

Carlo had already ordered his knights to prepare for entry into the dungeon. With just a little more time, they’d be ready to go at full capacity.

Luce was quite fond of this place—it had been a long time since he’d had tea that matched his tastes so well. Judging by the fact that Carlo knew of a place like this, the man clearly had a decent eye for things—for a human, at least.

Carlo gave the server a subtle signal. The server then took the teapot from the table onto a tray. Ssshhk— A gentle boil rose from the teapot as it sat atop a mana-inscribed heating pad. Soon, the water, which had begun to cool, returned to the ideal temperature. The server quietly placed the now-heated teapot back onto the table between the dragon and Carlo.

As the mage took another sip of the freshly warmed tea, Carlo couldn’t take his eyes off him.

There was still one thing bothering him—this man’s stats.

The De Ruels seal of the Magic Association displayed a mage’s aptitude and abilities. That was why most mages carried it with them like a lifeline, presenting it without fail whenever introducing themselves.

Carlo’s brows furrowed slightly.

He couldn’t afford even a sliver of uncertainty when it came to breaking through the dungeon. And this suspicion—it wouldn’t go away until he had a clear picture of the man’s capabilities.

He considered putting Luce through a sparring match with one of his knights. Or, failing that, maybe even pressing him with a direct line of questioning—a bit rude, but effective. But that approach had its risks. They were the ones in need of a mage. If he suddenly brought up tests or evaluations, this finicky mage might walk away from the deal entirely. The image of the tavern owner getting clocked in the jaw flickered through Carlo’s mind.

So what now…?

He felt the warmth of the teacup resting against his lips. Slowly sipping, Carlo tried to calm his mind and sort through the increasingly tangled thoughts.