ISMFF61

Chapter 61.

Infiltration (1)

Lowell rubbed his face with both hands, as though trying to wipe away exhaustion, before reluctantly opening his mouth.

“A letter…? At this hour, what on earth could be so urgent…?”

“Still… I think you should check it. They said it was urgent, didn’t they? Please, hurry!”

Temia urged the staggering, sleep-heavy Lowell. Something about Sonia—the maid who had once rushed to find her in desperation—made Temia uneasy. It felt wrong to simply lie back down when someone had come with such haste.

“Thank goodness you’re here. I was told to deliver this to you directly.”

When Lowell opened the door, the courier handed him the letter. He tore it open and unfolded the parchment. His face immediately darkened.

It was a commission, addressed to Lowell, the wizard of the workshop.

“…Hah.”

Another request. It felt as though some foul omen had latched onto him. Such commissions usually came once a year at most, yet now they had arrived one after another, leaving no time for rest. Even the normally energetic Temia could only stare at him wordlessly, her weariness overwhelming.

And yet, Lowell couldn’t bring himself to reject this one outright—not when the letter bore a name he could not ignore.

The letter read:

*Greetings, Wizard Lowell.
I am Duke Derrick Withrow.
It is unfortunate that I must introduce myself in writing. I had hoped to experience the magic of the wizard I’ve heard so much about, rather than merely through rumor.*
The reason I write with such urgency is that I wish to hear your opinion regarding certain events occurring in one of the establishments I sponsor.
I have always taken great interest in ventures designed to provide entertainment for the people. Yet for months now, I’ve heard disturbing reports of large sums of money flowing into a certain business, only to vanish inexplicably. Among them, troubling rumors have reached me about a place under my patronage—Kallis Land.
Kallis Land, like other houses of amusement, operates purely as a venue for thrill and pleasure. It strictly forbids the use of magical tools, potions, or any external powers that might disturb the natural essence of play. After all, fortune should be equally fair to all.
But if such fortune repeatedly falls upon a single person, suspicions must be raised. For that reason, Kallis Land employs staff who examine guests for traces of magic before admission. Even wizards are hired to ensure that luck flows equally among patrons.
Despite all these safeguards, no irregularities have been found. The suspected individual continues to claim innocence—insisting they have used no magic or trickery—while monopolizing vast winnings.
Thus, I request that you, Wizard Lowell, confirm whether these phenomena are mere chance or the result of sorcery. Your assistance will be greatly rewarded.
P.S. I understand you are on close terms with Rio Felix, master of the Rush & Gold Merchant Guild. I have asked him to guide you to Kallis Land, so you may accompany him.
Sincerely,
Duke Derrick Withrow

“Damn it! Nothing ever goes smoothly when that guild master meddles!”

Lowell’s voice rang with fury.

“Selling me off under the guise of friendship?!”

He had long known that Rio Felix’s network of relationships was anything but ordinary. Still, never had he imagined that it extended to Duke Withrow himself.

If the Duke had voiced his concerns to Rio, the guild master would never dare introduce him to some nameless street-corner wizard. Instead, Rio had pushed forward someone with whom he shared some connection—namely Lowell.

No doubt he pocketed a fine profit for it. That man would never offer me up for free.

Had Rio’s name not been mentioned, Lowell would have simply folded the letter and told the messenger to find someone else, then returned to bed. But with Rio Felix involved, matters were different.

Rio was a merchant to the core—never one to accept a losing bargain. If even he had turned to Lowell, it meant the situation left no room for retreat.

Moreover, most of the workshop’s raw materials came directly from Rio’s guild. To sour that relationship would not only strain personal ties but also jeopardize the workshop’s supply chain. That, in itself, was intolerable.

Thus, the appearance of Rio Felix’s name in the Duke’s letter was not merely a recommendation—it was an implicit command.

“The carriage is ready, sir. You may depart at once.”

The servant spoke cheerfully, oblivious to Lowell’s inner turmoil.

“Lowell?” Temia prompted.

“…”

Lowell pressed a hand to his forehead, forcing down the bile of irritation. Concerned, Temia put down her bag and approached him carefully, while Lerry, perched on her shoulder, fixed him with bright, pebble-like eyes.

Though her gaze was still clouded with drowsiness, Temia sensed something was gravely amiss. Whenever the wizard wore such an expression, it meant stormy consequences were soon to follow. She grew wary, her voice tentative.

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

Lowell sighed.

“Nothing unusual. Just another commission—bad timing, that’s all.”

He rubbed his temples. Temia and Lerry exchanged puzzled looks.

“What kind of commission?”

“The kind where dragging someone out of bed at this hour is bad manners, no matter what it is.”

Normally, Lowell dismissed unannounced clients outright. For him to brood instead of refusing was deeply suspicious. Temia, unable to contain her curiosity, held out her hand for the letter. But Lowell shook his head.

“You should rest. I’ll be gone for a while this time, so please look after the workshop in my absence.”

“…What? What are you talking about all of a sudden?”

“Leaving the workshop unattended isn’t wise. Besides, you must be tired too. Stay here with Lerry and take care of things.”

Temia frowned, about to protest, but Lowell deliberately turned away before she could speak.

Such commissions were often fraught with risk. Bringing Temia along would only multiply the dangers—and the burdens on his mind. He had no desire for that.

The servant, however, spoke up smoothly:

“His Grace the Duke requested that even your assistant accompany you. He believes the presence of a non-wizard aide might prove useful in uncovering the truth. So perhaps it is best that you all go together.”

At that, Temia’s eyes flew open wide, all traces of sleep gone. The word Duke had made her think of her father. But Lowell quickly dispelled the notion.

“No, not your father. It’s Duke Withrow.”

“What?! Duke Withrow? Did I hear that right?”

“Yes. I’d only heard rumors of him still being alive. This is the first time I’ve received direct contact.”

The name jolted Temia fully awake. Everyone in Rostia knew it.

Duke Withrow—one of the kingdom’s few dukes—was infamous for his absence from public life. So rare was his appearance that he was nicknamed the Ghost Duke. Rumor even claimed that only the royal family had seen his face. Temia’s own father, Duke Etval, had never met him directly.

“But… why would someone like him send for you? Couldn’t he handle it himself?”

Lowell narrowed his eyes.

“Indeed. Withrow is a wizard of considerable renown himself. Why would he need me?”

He cast a sharp glance at the servant, silently demanding an explanation. But the man remained unflappable.

“That will be explained later—by Master Felix. You may hear the full story from him.”

He gestured toward the large carriage waiting outside, sized to carry multiple passengers. Clearly, their attendance had been anticipated from the start. Lowell’s head throbbed.

Then the servant leaned close and whispered something.

“…!”

Lowell’s expression twisted darker still. Yet after a long exhale, he gave in.

“Fine. When we return, I’ll give you all a proper vacation. But for now… we leave immediately.”

Though they exchanged wary glances, the group had little choice. Without pause, they boarded the carriage.

Lowell leaned against the window, drawing slow breaths to keep calm. The Duke’s polite, flattering words had been nothing more than a thinly veiled ultimatum. A request in name only—one that offered no option of refusal. The thought made Lowell clench his fists so tightly that his knuckles whitened.

The servant’s whispered words echoed in his mind: