Plop—Plop.

The night's frost fell as cold dew.

Arthur woke up in a pitch-dark underground prison. Judging by the pervasive smell of pitch, it was a recently built place. The jailers frequently barged into this ten-layer prison, which had been expanded solely to confine the Lord of the Tower.

Arthur was repeatedly dragged out for torture and then thrown back in.

"Speak! How did you obtain the power of black magic?"

"Which other magicians from the tower can use black magic? There's no way you acted alone."

Even with strong will and magical power, he couldn't escape in his drugged state. The best resistance he could offer was silence.

"Your tongue must be tied by the spell of silence cast by Satan."

"The devil dulls the pain and grants immense power. Would a devil's minion achieve accomplishments beyond human bounds for no reason?"

Thus, the jailers used even his silence as evidence. And so, he was taken to the final trial.

"The tower in other countries is more like an independent research institution that does not interfere with national affairs. But the traitor trained the tower's magicians as the emperor's guards and took on the unique role of prime minister himself."

"That's correct. He prepared in advance to reclaim the throne at any time."

They parroted the lines prepared by the ministers.

An inquisitor who attended the trial also brought a manipulated experimental tool to Arthur's body, ensuring only one outcome.

"The clear power of black magic has been detected from the traitor."

The six sides of the crystal column in his hand glowed.

The transparent color gradually turned green, then darkened to a nearly black gray before it stopped changing.

"Green represents poison, implying the convict's power is corrupt. Also, black has long signified a black heart, indicating the traitor harbored rebellious intentions."

Azar's deep sigh marked the end of the long play.

"A shameful error for an emperor who should uphold righteous values to keep a devil's minion by his side. This mistake must be corrected immediately to face the empire's citizens."

The verdict was naturally death.

Back in the prison, Arthur slept continuously thereafter like a racehorse stretched out in the stable, refusing to run, even forgetting the fear of the whip.

"They're becoming corpses themselves trying to save a corpse."

"The Empress was terribly beautiful."

"If it were me, I'd at least write a will. Why does he only sleep?"

"He doesn't have any immediate family to leave a will to, though."

"True. Writing one would only drag innocent people into trouble."

The guards' murmuring continued until the day before the execution.

***

Rustle―

There was movement far down the corridor.

Step. Step.

The footsteps halted briefly.

Creak―

At last, the tightly closed iron door opened, and light flooded in.

Arthur squinted his eyes open. The night visitor holding a torch was a familiar face.

"Her Majesty the Empress foresaw that something like this would happen someday." It was Roxellan's close aide, the deceased Empress and saint. When he brought an antidote to Arthur's nose, Arthur, freed from the poison, responded, "But she didn't expect Azar to create a child that didn't exist just to kill it. And she also predicted that you wouldn't particularly want to live."

Ignoring Arthur's words, he extended his hand. Arthur didn't bother to refuse and took it, staggering.

"But she must have also said that if given a chance to live, you wouldn't refuse it? I have prepared a boat under the fortress. The sleeping spell cast by the tower's wizards will soon reach its limit, so you must move quickly."

Arthur smirked. To personally show what he had gained from his reckless life was so like Roxellan.

"This makes it a bit conflicting. It's not polite to tire out those who moved for my sake."

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"She also said you would accept it reluctantly while talking about politeness."

Ten minutes later, the boat carrying him drifted along the canal beneath the Imperial Palace. The moonlight, with nowhere else to go, followed the boat's lonely journey. After hastily rowing in silence, the group safely escaped the Emperor's domain.

"We will soon enter our territory."

The one steering the boat spoke. There was no response. The heads of those carrying Arthur's damaged body turned towards him. He was sound asleep.

***

In his sleep, Arthur began to dream.

Fifteen years old. The memory of meeting Azar for the first time at the Royal Academy.

Back then, Azar was the youngest prince, tormented by the creeping threat of death. After his mother, a princess of the neighboring country Turda, suddenly died, Azar's uncle, who had no heirs, diplomatically pressured Rilten, anticipating potential crises.

The first prince, who was his half-brother and the future king, couldn't openly kill Azar.

But it was possible to slowly kill him.

One by one, the servants who attended to Azar either died in accidents or disappeared, and gradually everyone around him started to avoid him. Everyone except for a genius boy who had entered the academy as the top student in magic studies.

“If you were me, how would you survive? Tell me.”

“…You're here again.”

However, Arthur didn't actively welcome Azar.

It was Azar who persistently bothered Arthur, who was always reading a book in a tree in the dormitory courtyard.

“Sure, your older brothers and sisters are wary of you. But they are probably complacent because your domestic support base is weak. If I were you, I would exploit that and strike back.”

“Don't speak in riddles. I'm not as smart as you. I don’t even understand what you mean by exploiting it.”

Arthur closed the book he was reading. It was a political science book discussing the qualities of a ruler. “Think about the frequent revolts of the commoners. How did those venerable old lords handle them?”

“You mean I should gain the support of the people or the church since I can't get the support of the high nobles.”

Despite their lands being devastated by monstrous beasts, the high nobles waged territorial wars and imposed heavy taxes. This led to a series of large-scale rebellions, and if the church hadn’t intervened with a saint from the common people at the forefront, it would have escalated into a civil war.

“But how?”

“You have to dig into the problems of the old nobles. They behaved reasonably in their own way. They just sat in their offices, received properly organized documents, and listened to reports filtered through at least one subordinate, moving pieces on a chessboard. They had no idea where the lower classes, who had hit rock bottom, would explode next.”

Azar couldn't understand Arthur, who described such an enormous process as if it were just scratching an itch.

Watching Azar quietly, Arthur....

Thud!

Jumped down from the tree and approached Azar.

“If you've been probing all this time, get to the point. What do you want from me?”

Maybe because his eyes weren't smiling, Azar instinctively stepped back and, after a moment of hesitation, answered, “I want you to become my strategist.”

“Why?”

“Well….”

Azar avoided his gaze, but Arthur could read his obvious intentions.

Arthur was the adopted son that Count Luenti had taken in to replace his sickly son. After the fall of the count’s family and the deaths of the count and his son, Arthur’s path to success was blocked. Who else but the youngest prince, who had no subordinates, would value this boy from the start?

But Arthur smiled inwardly.

A prince who only has bloodline comes to someone like me, who has everything but bloodline. This is a precious opportunity, second only to being adopted by the count.

“Well, that's good. It seems our interests align to some extent.”

“Interests?”

“I plan to establish a tower of magic in Rilten someday.”

With that, he gladly shared one of the dreams he had harbored until now.

“But I can't grow it significantly if it’s only acknowledged by the rank-obsessed but incompetent magicians of this country. Unless a prince with noble blood...” Arthur’s eyes turned to Azar. “No, unless the future emperor acknowledges the tower.”

Azar took a sharp breath at the dangerous remark. But that remark reminded him of an important fact he had been ignoring to survive. The possibility that he might be the only one with the bloodline to unite the two kingdoms and become emperor.

“Then why do you want to build a magic tower?”

“…Well.”

Arthur pondered how to explain the heart of an orphan to the prince who had lived as the greatest treasure of his deceased queen.

The orphan, who had survived the chaos alone, came to hate the world after enduring cruel exploitation.

The world he experienced was marked by widespread malice and indifference.

Yet, the orphan's heart, weary of endless drifting, longed for settlement and ultimately decided to transform the hateful world into an object of affection.

"Even amidst ruins, there were always those who showed kindness to strangers. I want a world where such people are not deemed foolish." His undiscovered people also existed somewhere in the unknown world. The boy, who set a milestone to endure his entire life, succinctly summarized his complex emotions. "I don't want to conform to the world. So, I'm going to change it to my liking."

It was uncertain whether Azar understood the meaning of these words,

He willingly extended his hand to Arthur. "Alright. I will lend you my face. Keep your promise no matter what."

"I will become the mad dog leading your royal path."

The two boys shook hands and laughed.

After that, Azar openly praised his advisor and accepted his proposal.

A friendship that transcended the relationship of master and servant, and class differences. A noble lineage that always volunteered to fight at the forefront.

It was a combination that matched the hope of a new era, which the people admired.

"Your Highness Azar. Thank you for personally coming to this cursed land."

"We want to work for you, who always cares for even the likes of us every day! Please let us repay your kindness."

Numerous talents flocked in.

Arthur distinguished the valuable ones among them, selecting disciples and researchers to lay the foundation of the Magic Tower.

Ultimately, they won the civil war against the First Prince's faction, enthroned Azar as the new king, and merged the two kingdoms to establish an empire with the largest territory on the continent.

Now the dream raced toward tragedy.