Deception

The casual conversation between a certain someone and Bradrick lasted a full hour before it finally drew to a reluctant close. Throughout the entire meeting, Lance’s only task was to stand by with a polite smile and an occasional nod, paying no mind to the details of their discussion.

When the meeting ended, that certain someone emerged from the Hall of Justice positively beaming, her face aglow with delight. All along the way, she gushed to the air itself about how wonderful the king was, lavishing praise upon him to anyone who crossed her path—even when she encountered the chancellor, Leon, who was still waiting for them outside. Her unrestrained compliments made Chancellor Leon a touch embarrassed, but nothing could dampen her excitement or stem the tide of adulation that flowed endlessly from her lips, as if Bradrick’s virtues were an inexhaustible river.

Seeing her growing more and more effusive, Lance swiftly quelled her with a warning glance, then offered Leon a soothing smile, and promptly ushered her into the carriage. The chancellor explained that he needed to report back to the king, so Lance and his companion left ahead of him.

Once inside the carriage, deprived of an audience, she could only gaze hopefully at Lance. “Isn’t King Bradrick handsome? He’s so handsome, isn’t he? You must have felt it too, being so close to him!”

Lance replied with complete indifference, “Yes, he is.”

“Why do you sound so insincere?” She pouted and lost interest in pursuing the topic.

“Forgive me. I’m not as handsome as he is, nor as impressive. Sorry to let you down,” Lance said, yawning with utter nonchalance. An hour of idle conversation had left him bored and drowsy, and now, with no strangers in the carriage, he could finally take a peaceful nap.

She couldn’t be bothered to retort. Tossing out a final, “You’re just jealous,” she too surrendered to drowsiness and closed her eyes.

Not far from the carriage, a man dressed in blue squinted with satisfaction. It seemed Lord Leon’s plan to drug them with incense inside the carriage had worked—neither of the two would remember the way to the palace. Even so, he dared not relax his vigilance. After all, he was tailing two mages from Kerinia, and anyone trusted to serve as a cultural envoy must be formidable. Carelessness could cost him dearly.

Yet, as it turned out, his worries were unnecessary. Neither she nor Lance showed any sign of noticing the drugged incense, and they both succumbed swiftly to its soporific effects, falling into deep slumber.

The man in blue maintained his focus, listening to the carriage until all sound was replaced by the steady rhythm of their breathing. Only then did he allow himself to relax slightly. Even so, he continued his pursuit until the carriage reached the envoys’ temporary lodgings—only then did he finally withdraw, his responsibility at an end.

A brief signal with his hands told his team to change shifts, and only after ensuring the new watch was in place did he slip away into the darkness.

When the coachman roused the two from their sleep, neither had any intention of being cordial towards the other. She wore a cold expression, clearly unwilling to speak to Lance, and the curve of his smile was subdued. Silently, they walked back to their rooms.

Once inside, she could no longer maintain her serious façade; she collapsed onto the bed and burst into laughter. “Oh my, my acting is getting better and better!”

“And your habit of talking too much is only getting worse,” Lance muttered, locking the door behind him.

From the moment they entered Silver City, both she and Lance had sensed they were being followed. Their pursuers concealed their presence well, but unfortunately for them, as a mage of four elements, every current in the air was familiar to her. Before long, these elements reported the presence of a suspicious stranger lurking nearby. She immediately understood what was happening.

“I told you, this journey has been far too smooth. Aside from that initial probing fight, nothing unexpected happened. No one even questioned any of your so-called mistakes. Isn’t it obvious they’ve set a trap for us?” Lance had said.

To elaborate: from the moment they left Aecasia, the entire affair was a ruse. First, a staged attack to ignite their fighting spirit, which had been all but extinguished by the prospect of a hopeless mission. Then, after their rescue and the banquet, the easily fooled officials let them drop their guard and continue their journey. At long last, they reached Silver City, where the chancellor, once a schemer intent on usurping the throne, now appeared before them as a benevolent and virtuous father figure, leading them to the so-called king.

The meeting with the king was the true heart of the trap, though its cunning was well hidden. After a thorough analysis from both her and Lance, they considered the situation from Leon’s perspective and drew these conclusions:

1. If the two visitors truly were cultural envoys, send out a false king to meet them; after the charade, Leon could proceed with his coup.
2. If the visitors were impostors, also send a false king to probe for any information about the rescue organization or its plans, hoping to ensnare them entirely.
3. Based on the above, Leon would most certainly have them watched to determine if they were genuine envoys.
4. And, to be extra cautious, Leon would do everything in his power to ensure they didn’t remember the route to the palace.

While sketching the palace’s interior from memory, she couldn’t resist mocking Leon. “If we really were the king’s own rescue team, how could we not know the layout of the palace? What a waste of effort.”

Lance, leaning against the bed and watching the shadows of their watchers outside, replied quietly, “Still, what if we really didn’t know the way? There’s no harm in being extra careful.”

“Then all his scheming was for nothing.” Her eyes stayed fixed on the paper, but a genuine smile curled on her lips. “When I was tricking half the underworld with my concoctions, Leon was probably still at home minding the children. He’s wasted all these rare ingredients on a potion that’s so easy to counter. Just think how many roast chickens you could buy with the money spent on those herbs!”

“Can’t you be a little more ambitious?” Lance said, massaging his temples.

“Fine, then roast goose. Or maybe beer-braised duck?” she replied, smacking her lips, her mind filled with visions of sizzling poultry.

No one knew which wandering healer had provided Leon with the recipe for this incense, but it used nearly every rare ingredient related to mind-altering potions. The result was potent, to be sure—there was no antidote, and only being roused by another could break its spell. Yet its flaw was equally obvious: as long as one kept a mouthful of water and didn’t swallow, one could remain completely alert.

“Truth be told, keeping water in your mouth that long is rather uncomfortable,” Lance remarked with suppressed laughter after hearing the cost of the ingredients.

“Exactly! You could choke on it,” she replied earnestly, still mourning the roast meats that might have been.