[V4C8] The Price of Power

“Where is Lana?”

Clifford thrust the barrel of a gun at Isaac.

Monica reflexively attempted to erect a defense barrier with chantless magic, but Isaac shook his head slightly. His eyes conveyed the message, “That won’t be necessary,” with his usual calmness.

(…Does Ike have some kind of plan?)

Monica concentrated to ready herself for a defense barrier at any time while watching the situation unfolding in front of her.

“Unfortunately you have the wrong person. I’m not Bartholomew Alexander-san. He’s not here right now.”

“Then where is he?”

“I’ll answer your questions, so could you please lower the gun?”

“Your answer comes first.”

In stark contrast to Isaac’s gentle demeanor, Clifford’s voice was rigid.

Rather than suppressing his emotions, his unchanging tone conveyed a mechanical lack of feeling. To put it bluntly, it sounded eerie.

Isaac let out a somewhat melancholic sigh. Without looking at his hands, he grabbed Clifford’s right wrist, pulling it towards his right side. It was a swift move that was almost imperceptible.

“——!?”

The surprised Clifford lost his balance and tilted forward.

Isaac twisted Clifford’s wrist, taking the gun, and quickly swept Clifford’s legs from under him, causing him to fall.

Once Clifford fell on his back, Isaac stomped on his shoulder.

——This whole sequence took about three seconds.

Monica never needed to put up any defense barrier.

Isaac picked up the gun and examined it, smiling to himself.

“A flintlock from the Reagan Company, huh. Popular in the central regions because of its decorations, but I wouldn’t recommend it. The bullet spread is awful.”

“Give it back.”

“The bullets, you mean? Right into that mouth of yours?”

Isaac pointed the gun at Clifford’s face. His voice remained as calm as always, making him all the more terrifying.

As Monica trembled, the fallen Clifford moved his eyes behind his glasses to look at Monica.

“Say something to this ill-tempered man.”

Quite a statement from the man who brought out the gun in the first place.

However, Monica had something she wanted to confirm with Clifford, so she hesitantly tugged at the hem of Isaac’s clothes.

“Uh, Ike… could you, maybe, move your foot away? Please…”

“If you say so.”

Isaac removed his foot from Clifford’s shoulder. However, the gun in his right hand remained pointed at Clifford.

As he lifted his upper body from the ground, Clifford adjusted the position of his askew glasses and rubbed the back of his head.

“I hit my head. There’s a bump.”

His tone was matter-of-fact, almost as if he was confirming the situation, rather than sounding resentful.

Meanwhile, Isaac gave Clifford a faint smile.

“Good thing it’s just a bump.”

Indeed, it was fortunate that Isaac refrained from picking up the rifle.

Monica breathed an internal sigh of relief and turned to face Clifford. There was something she needed to ask him.

“Um… earlier, you asked where Lana is, right? Did something happen to her?”

“Lana hasn’t come back.”

At that single statement, Monica turned pale.

It was already dusk. A young woman shouldn’t be walking around town at this hour, especially not alone.

With a slightly more serious face, Isaac interjected, “Have you checked Miss Colette’s residence?”

“I did, but she’s not home. Thinking there might be some clues, I searched Lana’s drawer and found a note with Monica’s address. That’s why I came here. Lana said she wanted to meet Bartholomew Alexander.”

Cutting his words there, Clifford slowly stood up, straightened his clothes, and muttered softly, “If she’s not here, it has to be that damn geezer.”

“Um… who might that be?”

“The embroidery artisan, Porok.”

According to Clifford, Lana had visited Porok’s workshop for an urgent matter during the day. However, when she arrived, Porok’s apprentice informed her that Porok had left the workshop to drink, and Lana departed the workshop in anger.

“I had assumed Lana would have headed to Monica’s house, but maybe she went to look for Porok instead.”

Bars that serve alcohol during the day could be found in the business district or near the docks. Neither were particularly safe areas.

“So which bar did this Porok-san go to…?”

“His apprentice said he had no clue. I asked him at gunpoint, so I doubt he was lying.”

Clifford’s statement contained a rather inappropriate occurrence, but Lana took priority right now.

If Clifford’s guess was correct, Lana must be touring every bar in Sazandol to find the artisan named Porok.

“…Miss Colette is the daughter of a baron, right? Would she go that far?”

At Isaac’s murmur, Monica and Clifford responded simultaneously.

“Lana would do it, I think.”

“When Lana gets heated, she becomes foolishly stubborn. It’s quite possible.”

Clifford’s statement was rude but accurate.

The image of Lana clenching her fists and walking briskly, saying, “I’ll find you no matter what,” was easy for Monica to imagine.

＊　＊　＊

Having visited the umpteenth bar, Lana checked that Porok wasn’t inside and left the bar with drooping shoulders.

(…Another miss.)

Lana sighed, feeling the fatigue setting in. Her legs were heavy from walking around since noon, and her ears and nose stung from the breeze of the cold winter night.

Nevertheless, Lana slapped her own cheeks, lifting her head that seemed inclined to lower.

“If it’s come to this… I’ll find you no matter what!”

This was exactly what Monica and Clifford had imagined when they thought of a stubborn Lana.

(I’ve already visited all the places within my usual range… )

In that case, Porok was likely to be in a bar in an area where Lana didn’t usually go——somewhere with poor security.

Truth be told, even the area around the bar Lana just visited was not particularly safe.

This area marked the boundary between the safe and the unsafe neighborhoods. Turn down one narrow alley, and you’ll come to a street lined with dubious shops.

But even without going down that alley, a young girl walking alone at this time would raise eyebrows.

As Lana hesitated about whether to turn the corner or not, someone tapped her shoulder lightly.

Perhaps it was Porok, and Lana turned around with hope. She was met with the strong smell of alcohol stinging her nose.

The one who tapped Lana on the shoulder was an unfamiliar middle-aged man. His face was flushed, and the eyes beneath his heavy eyelids were murky.

“Hey, I heard you’re looking for Porok-san. I saw him at a different bar earlier. Let me guide you there.”

Apparently, the man had heard Lana inquiring about Porok’s whereabouts at the previous tavern.

However, Lana wasn’t gullible or foolish enough to follow a stranger like this.

Lana took a step back and quickly scanned her surroundings. Unfortunately, these sorts of things always happened when no one was nearby.

“…Thanks for your kindness, good sir. But just telling me the name of the location is enough.”

The man, noticing Lana’s caution, closed the distance quickly, grabbing Lana’s wrist without warning.

“I told you to come!”

“Ouch! Let go!”

“Shut up!”

The man grimaced at Lana’s resistance, grabbing her wrist with one hand and raising the other.

(He’s going to hit me!)

Lana instinctively closed her eyes, but the impact never came.

When she fearfully opened her eyes, Lana saw a tall man standing behind the drunkard, restraining the drunkard’s raised hand.

“Violence against a lady? I can’t overlook that.”

“What? Who the hell are you!”

“Unfortunately, I don’t have any name to give to a drunkard like you! I only introduce myself to ladies! So, I’m Anthony. Remember it, madam over there!”

Looking at Lana with a sharp face was a man with short black hair and a robust build. He was the elder of the brothers she met yesterday when going to the pie shop with Monica.

The drunkard made a grand scoff and reached into his pocket. When his hand gripped what seemed to be a knife handle, Anthony overlaid his large hand on the drunkard’s arm.

“I won’t hold back if you draw that. Go ahead, but only if you’re prepared to be cut down on the spot.”

“Hmph, you talk big for someone without a sword!”

As the drunkard pointed out, Anthony wasn’t carrying a sword. He was empty-handed.

However, Anthony suddenly pushed the drunkard away, creating some distance. He then raised his right hand and began an incantation.

The surrounding air chilled, and a white mist floated around Anthony’s hand. This was ice magic, and not just any spell.

A faint light blue glow brightened the darkness of the night, gathering around Anthony’s hand.

Anthony clenched his hand and swung his arm. The faint light particles scattered, revealing a beautifully crafted longsword made of ice in his hand.

(That’s… a magic sword!)

Lana wasn’t the only one surprised. The drunkard, now completely sober, began to back off. The tip of the ice sword was pointed at the drunkard, just barely touching his forehead.

“Now, what are you going to do!”

“Waaaah! Hyeh!”

Intimidated by Anthony’s forceful shout, the drunkard went completely pale and fled, flailing his limbs dramatically.

Left behind, Lana looked up at Anthony with trepidation.

“Um… thank you so much for saving me, sir.”

“Heh, it was nothing much, really.”

Anthony put a relaxed smile on his stern-looking face.

Suddenly, his expression changed, and he looked down at the ice magic sword he had created.

“Oh no… my magic sword of ice…”

“W-What about it?”

Was that magic sword imposing some kind of burden on his body? Lana began to grow worried, as Anthony furrowed his thick eyebrows with a pained expression.

“…My magic sword… is stuck to my gloves and won’t come off.”

“…”

The price of power: “your gloves”.

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