"This matter still deserves more thought, Your Majesty."
Tourt did not say anything else. He left that one sentence behind, bowed, and walked out.
Then the ministers began to file out one by one.
"Your Majesty has had too little contact with mages. I understand better than you do that those who are rotten to the core cannot coexist with others."
Eldred stepped to Jarvan III's side and bowed as he spoke. "So I ask Your Majesty to think this over carefully."
With that, he too turned and left.
Very quickly, only a handful of people remained in the council chamber.
Jarvan III rose to his feet and walked to the window, gazing outside as he murmured to himself, "Is it still too early to push this forward?"
Minister Roy Nian stepped up and said, "Demacia and mages have always been like fire and water. If Your Majesty wishes to break the balance between them so easily, that is not something words alone can accomplish."
"The reason I came today to ask Your Majesty to think again is whether this matter is worth insisting on to the end. No matter what decision Your Majesty makes, this old minister will stand by your side."
He had sat in a position of great power for a very long time, but in one way he was no different from anyone else.
From the moment he was born, Roy too had been taught that mages were evil. Ever since childhood, his elders had told him that mages were unforgivable sinners and should never be shown even the slightest mercy.
What made him different was that over the long years, he had learned to witness things for himself.
He had not simply accepted what those elders said. He had chosen to look with his own eyes.
So he knew that everything had a good side and a bad side, and mages were no exception.
No mage was born evil. In truth, most of the mages he had seen were innocent people caught up in circumstances beyond their control.
Tianna Crownguard looked at Jarvan III's back but said nothing, then turned and walked out.
On this matter, she did not really have many views to offer.
Naturally, she could see that mages were no different from anyone else. They had simply gained a stronger kind of power.
But her husband had been killed by mages in war.
From the standpoint of a wife, she hated them.
Because of them, she had lost the one she loved most.
Until a certain light appeared in her world.
Now she could no longer tell whether she truly hated mages at all.
Even a woman as exalted as the High Marshal felt nothing but confusion when faced with this matter.
"Your son takes his leave."
Jarvan IV bowed slightly toward Jarvan III's back, then left the council chamber as well.
He knew the helplessness in his father's heart at this moment.
But even he could do nothing right now.
So he silently made up his mind.
He would become stronger, strong enough to change all of this.
Outside the palace, Luke climbed into the carriage, still replaying the events of the council chamber in his head.
In his memory, Jarvan III really had wanted to seek peaceful coexistence with mages.
The problem was that the resistance he faced was simply too great, and so the matter was never carried through.
Then later, something happened that completely destroyed any possibility of pardoning mages.
No matter what, that was something Luke had to stop.
Still, he kept feeling that the reason things had developed that way was not so simple.
Just then, something outside the carriage caught his eye, and a faint gleam flickered in his gaze.
Eldred and Tourt had gotten into the same carriage and ridden off together.
Luke withdrew his gaze and thought about it for a few seconds.
Then came a soft tick.
So it really was a rainy day. A wet black speck appeared on the road.
After that, more and more fat raindrops began to fall from the sky, ticking steadily onto the ground.
Within only a few seconds, the rain grew heavier and heavier.
On the street, many people who had not reacted in time were drenched through and rushed for shelter.
The carriage kept spare umbrellas inside.
Luke found one, stepped out, opened it, and held it over Yurna to keep the rain off her.
He was someone who especially loved rainy days. Whenever it rained, especially a steady shower like this, not too heavy but not too light either, just looking at it made his whole mood settle down.
So he sat beside Yurna and watched the rain-soaked street and the people hurrying to get out of it.
The rain had come too suddenly, so her waterfall-like hair was still damp. A few beads of rain slid down her flawless, delicate face. Seen from the side, she carried a different kind of beauty.
Luke took out a handkerchief and gently wiped the rain from her face.
Throughout the whole process, Yurna neither dodged nor resisted. Her expression remained as blank as ever.
Only after Luke's gaze moved away from her face did those violet eyes flicker slightly.
Half an hour later, the carriage slowly came to a stop at the prison entrance.
The rain still showed no sign of stopping. It continued to pour in sheets.
Leaving Yurna in the carriage to wait, Luke went into the prison with the umbrella over his head.
When he headed toward the yard, he could still see a figure dragging chains and running forward again and again.
Only now, under the pounding rain, that figure was much slower and clearly exhausted.
Several guards tasked with watching him stood under shelter, observing from a dry spot.
The moment they saw Luke, they immediately stepped back out into the rain to salute him.
"At ease."
Luke waved a hand casually and had them go back, while his gaze settled on Sylas.
It seemed that after keeping this up for so long, even Sylas was starting to reach his limit.
His pace grew slower and slower. The cold weather and the constant rain had let chill seep into every inch of his body.
At last, after enduring for a few more minutes, Sylas's leg gave out and he crashed hard to the ground.
He landed in a puddle, looking utterly bedraggled. He propped himself up with difficulty, but even that seemed to drain the last of his strength.
"Let him rest for a while."
Seeing that, Luke gave the order.
"Yes, sir!"
The guards immediately rushed into the rain, hauled Sylas to his feet, and dragged him back down into the cells.
"Where's Dierde?"
On the way to the dungeon, Luke asked the question casually.
"Warden Dierde had something to take care of and stepped away for a bit."
One of the guards offered an excuse.
Even without being told, Luke already knew. The Dierde who used to come running the instant he heard Luke had arrived still had not shown his face, which meant he was obviously off slacking.
After all, he was the warden here. At this hour, there was no way he should not be around.
Luke did not seem to care that Dierde had failed to come greet him. He kept walking forward and said, "Tell him later that if I come again and still don't see him, he can start thinking about finding somewhere else to work."
The guard beside him hurried to answer, "Yes, sir!"
They passed through the dungeon corridor. In the cells on either side, some of the mages who had been captured were curled up in corners. Some sat there blankly, their expressions dim and lifeless.
Others, still full of energy, clutched the bars and stretched their hands toward Luke, begging him to let them out.
Luke ignored them and continued inward.
Compared to the last time he had come, there seemed to be far fewer mages imprisoned here.
Usually, captured mages were forced to drink petricite limewater. The weaker ones would lose their magic. If they were lucky, they might one day see daylight again.
If they were unlucky, they would still be locked up for years.
Those with stronger magic had to keep drinking petricite limewater for the long term, until the Mageseekers decided they were no longer a threat.
As for the more unusual cases, some were exiled, some were executed.
In short, once a mage was brought here, there was almost never a good ending waiting for them.
This was the reality Jarvan III wanted to change.
Inside these cells, at least half the mages here were probably innocent.
Before they were dragged away, they might have been farmers, hunters, merchants, ordinary people. But in this land of magic, because they happened to possess the talent to use it, they were fated for prison.
Lost in thought, Luke arrived at Sylas's cell.
Taking a torch from one of the guards, he said, "I'll go in alone."
At that, the guard stopped following.
The cell door shut behind him. The torch flickered in his hand and lit the interior.
Sylas, who had just been hauled back inside, sat there motionless. The grime on him had not even been cleaned off. When he saw Luke enter, he only lifted his weak eyes for one glance before looking away again.
"Looks like you're about to hit your limit."
Luke walked to the bars, raising the torch so its light filled the cell completely.
Sylas did not respond. The endless high-intensity running and heavy labor had already pushed his body to the brink of collapse.
For the past several days, every single day, he had clenched his teeth and endured.
The aches and pains throughout his body reminded him at every moment of what he was suffering through.
But today's sudden rain really had made him feel, from the depths of his heart, a kind of powerlessness.
That feeling had not come from the rain itself. The rain had simply forced it to finally break loose.
Sylas did not know how much longer he would have to live like this.
He did not know whether there would ever truly come a day when he could see the light again.
Looking at the silent Sylas, Luke did not seem bothered. He said, "The fact that you've lasted this long really does surprise me. I have to admit, your willpower may not be any worse than a Demacian soldier's."
Being praised by this guy did not make Sylas happy in the least. He only shot Luke a glance, then looked away again.
"I came this time because there's something I wanted to share with you."
Luke did not like talking to himself either, so he got to the point. "This morning, my father convened a meeting about pardoning mages."
The moment he heard that, Sylas froze. He looked at Luke standing before the bars, then, after a beat, let out a cold laugh. "Does toying with a prisoner make you happy?"
He did not believe it at all.
"I was starting to think you'd left your voice outside somewhere." Luke smiled when Sylas finally spoke. "There are a lot of ways I amuse myself, but I'm not bored enough to lie to you about this."
His tone really did not sound like a lie, but Sylas still refused to believe him. He only sneered.
If those lofty figures truly had any intention of pardoning mages, then he and his people would never have spent all those endless days and nights in a place like this.
Whether Sylas believed him or not, Luke went on anyway. "The result of the meeting was that more than half the ministers opposed it."
Sylas said coldly, "That part sounds real."
He had seen the truth long ago.
In the eyes of those in power, mages were worth less than livestock by the roadside.
How could they ever accept a herd of beasts suddenly standing as their equals?
In the countless lightless days and nights, Sylas had finally understood one thing.
If Demacia did not go through a lesson written in blood, it would never welcome real change.
Only when a crushing blow landed on them would they understand what pain felt like.
Sylas did not know who would strike that blow one day.
But he looked forward to the day it came.
"Do you believe in the chessboard theory?"
Abruptly, Luke shifted to an entirely different topic.
Sylas looked at him without answering.
So Luke explained on his own. "The so-called chessboard theory is the idea that maybe we all live on a chessboard. Some people are born players, and some are born pieces. A piece's whole life is destined to be controlled by the player, right up until the moment it dies."
"How ridiculous." Sylas let out a cold laugh.
"When a person's vision is limited to only what they can understand, then the moment something beyond that understanding appears, anyone's first reaction will be disbelief."
Luke spoke slowly as he looked at Sylas. "Isn't your life the life of a chess piece? You were born with a special ability, so the Mageseekers took notice of you. You thought you were being valued. But the moment you showed even the tiniest hint of power slipping beyond their control, they threw you away without a second thought."
Sylas stared at him coldly. "So what? What are you trying to say?"
"Nothing much. I only came here to mess with your head a little." A gentle smile rested on Luke's face.
But in Sylas's eyes, that smile looked ugly and infuriating.
After saying that, Luke had no intention of staying any longer. He turned and walked out.
As the cell door slowly closed, swallowing Luke's back little by little, Sylas kept staring ahead. The fist resting on his knee tightened unconsciously.
Even though he knew the things Luke had just said should not have been trusted at all, Luke's voice kept echoing through his mind.
The chill left by the rain still clung to him, and Sylas could not stop himself from wondering.
If his life really was only that of a chess piece, then had that piece been kept alive until now because it still had a purpose left to fulfill?
The instant that thought crossed his mind, he suddenly raised his fist and slammed it into the wall with a heavy bang. The petricite chains on him rattled sharply with the motion.
The searing pain only cleared his mind further. Drops of bright red blood began to fall to the floor.
The look in his eyes turned even colder.
If this so-called damn chessboard really existed, then he would jump off it and flip the whole thing over.
He would endure.
He had to endure until that day came.
Luke left the dungeon, got back into the carriage, and slowly rode home.
After some time, the carriage stopped at the gate to the courtyard.
The moment he got out and looked inside, he saw Sona sitting beneath the eaves, her big eyes watching the rain. Her aqua-blue hair fell naturally to either side, and her hands moved across the strings of her etwahl, drawing out a beautiful melody that blended with the sound of the rainfall.
The scene looked like a painting of a beauty in the rain.
Poppy sat beside her, her short little legs unable to reach the ground, so they swung gently as she listened quietly to the music.
Fiora was not sitting outside. At this hour, she had probably already gone home.
Noticing Luke at the courtyard gate, Sona stopped playing and looked over.
Luke met her eyes, then gave her a smile.
Sona, however, turned her gaze away and looked elsewhere.
She rarely showed any moods at all, but Luke could tell that she seemed a little down right now.
So he walked over, sat beside her, rested a hand on the etwahl, and asked, "Something bothering you?"
"No."
Sona's lovely voice rang out.
"It doesn't look that way." Luke turned to look at her. Sona was lowering her head toward the etwahl.
"There really isn't," Sona said stubbornly, then picked up the etwahl and went back inside.
Even after his hand left the instrument, Luke still felt as if he could hear a faint idiot drifting in the air.
He scratched his head, watched Sona's graceful figure disappear, and asked Poppy in confusion, "Did you make her mad?"
"How could that be!"
Poppy denied it at once and looked at Luke. "It was obviously you."
"That's even less possible."
Luke thought back on it and could not remember doing anything that would have upset Sona.
He still chatted with her a lot every day.
After thinking about it, Luke decided Sona might just be on her period.
Inside the living room, Sona sat down on the sofa and looked at the etwahl in her arms, letting out a soft sigh.
Luke really had not neglected her, but every time she thought about how he and Miss Fiora had already done that kind of thing, she could not help feeling strangely empty inside.
What made it even worse was that those two clearly had no intention of taking a break.
It had already been so many days in a row.
At the thought of that, Sona sighed again.
Miss Fiora had only had the courage to do what Sona herself had not dared to do.
If that night she had gathered her courage and stepped into the courtyard...
A flush spread across her cheeks, and Sona had to take several deep breaths before she calmed down.
It was all Luke's fault.
Now he had her so flustered that she barely even dared to speak to him, afraid he might somehow find out about the mess of thoughts in her head.
She shook her head and drove those improper thoughts out of her mind. Then she placed her slender hands back on the strings and began to play once more.
The heaviness in her heart had already eased a great deal.
Honestly, just being able to stay by His Highness's side was already enough for her.
Outside the courtyard, two hurried figures came riding in through the curtain of rain on bicycles.
That made Luke, who was still sitting beneath the eaves watching the downpour, look over in surprise. "You two didn't have umbrellas?"
"Where were we supposed to steal umbrellas from? Who knew it would suddenly start raining halfway back?"
Lux complained as she and Kahina hopped off their bicycles and ran under the eaves. They were soaked from head to toe, droplets of water falling off them nonstop.
The two of them looked like drowned cats.
Luke looked at them and said, "You could have just waited it out."
"We were already soaked anyway, so we figured we might as well just make a run for it!"
Lux grinned, but the expression on her face made it obvious that was not the whole story.
One look and it was clear she was the type who actually liked the feeling of riding through the rain.
Luke shot her a look. "Go change first."
The two girls dashed into the living room, and Luke got up and followed them inside.
In the living room, Yurna was holding a dry towel and wiping Lux's soaking wet golden hair.
On the other side, Sona was helping Kahina dry hers.
The two girls sat there obediently, letting themselves be taken care of.
Suddenly, Lux shivered, then sucked in a breath and said belatedly, "It's so cold."
The weather outside had already been chilly to begin with, and after getting drenched, it felt even worse.
She had not noticed while she was out in the rain, but the second she came back inside, the cold came flooding over her.
Kahina beside her was no better off, trembling just as hard.
"You brought this on yourselves." Luke glanced at them, then turned and headed for the kitchen.
Once their hair was dried, the two girls ran to a room, and not long afterward they came back out in fresh clothes.
The first thing they did was sit down beside the fireplace.
The flames in the hearth crackled brightly, and the heat it gave off drove away a good portion of the chill clinging to Lux and Kahina.
As they warmed themselves by the fire and felt their bodies thawing out, comfortable expressions spread across both their faces.
"Achoo!"
Out of nowhere, Lux sneezed, then sniffled and sat there looking a little blank.
"Achoo!"
Like she had been infected by it, Kahina sneezed right after her.
Sona looked at the two of them with a helpless expression. At this rate, they were probably not far from catching colds.
"Oh no, oh no, I think I'm getting sick."
Lux rubbed her nose, already feeling another sneeze coming on.
"It's all your fault. You were the one who insisted on riding back in the rain."
Kahina shot her a complaining look.
Lux straightened up with utterly misplaced confidence and said, "How was I supposed to know your constitution was that weak?"
"Aren't you the exact same way?"
Kahina glared at her.
Just then, both of them caught the scent of something fragrant drifting out from the kitchen.
A moment later, Luke emerged carrying a steaming bowl of some unknown soup.
When he came closer, the girls all looked over curiously.
It was a bowl of milky-white dessert, fragrant and steaming, enough to make anyone's appetite stir.
"What is that?" Lux's eyes lit up at once.
"Ginger milk custard." Luke had Yurna get some bowls ready and ladled a serving for everyone. "It's good for getting the chill out of your system. You two should drink more, so you don't end up with colds."
Lux took a bowl of ginger milk custard and eagerly prepared to take a sip, but before she could lower her head, another sneeze burst out of her.
"Achoo!"
Luke suddenly felt a light shower hit his face. He raised an eyebrow and looked at the little blonde across from him with a dark expression.
Before he could say anything, there came another achoo, and with Kahina's sneeze, another spray of droplets landed on Luke's face.
He was starting to feel like these two were doing it on purpose.
"I can't control catching a cold..." Lux looked away guiltily. Even she felt a little embarrassed.
"Sorry, Your Highness..." Kahina also sensed things were going bad. After blurting out an apology, she tried to bolt.
But she was still too slow.
Luke reached out, caught her by the back of the neck, and hauled her right back.
Then he raised a hand, wound up a little, and flicked her square in the forehead with a crisp snap.
"Mmgh!" Kahina cried out in pain, tears nearly springing to her eyes.
Noticing Luke's dangerous gaze shifting toward her, Lux trembled, shrank her neck, and said weakly, "If you flicked her, then you can't flick me too, okay..."
"That's no trouble at all." Luke let out a cold laugh and gave her one on the forehead too without the slightest mercy.
Only after hearing another yelp did he turn away in satisfaction to go wash his face.
Those two forehead flicks left Lux and Kahina reeling for quite a while.
Looking at the red marks on their foreheads, Sona could not help wanting to laugh.
After waiting a little, the ginger milk custard was no longer scalding hot, so Lux, Kahina, Sona, Poppy, and Yurna all began eating it while it was still warm.
After one bite, a clean, mellow flavor spread across their mouths. The rich milkiness bloomed over their tongues, while the ginger was balanced just right.
And it felt almost like pudding, with soft, distinct curds of set milk. It was delicious.
As the warmth slid down into their stomachs, it spread from their lower bellies through the rest of their bodies.
Now thoroughly warmed up, Lux and Kahina felt much better and let out long, comfortable breaths.
Luke did not have any himself. After washing his face, he returned to his place beneath the eaves outside and stared absentmindedly at the rain, which showed no sign of stopping.
He sighed inwardly.
Weather like this really was wonderful.
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