The envoy was growing restless and stepped over to Melia to ask if she knew why the future baron was delayed.
"He should be here any moment—he wouldn't be late to an event like this without a reason."
"We can wait another five minutes. After that, he could be held in contempt for insulting the king by failing to appear."
"My husband would strike him himself if he dared insult his majesty."
To ease the envoy's nerves, Melia drew him into conversation, talking through various topics for nearly four minutes. While she spoke, she caught movement at one edge of the square out of the corner of her eye, and a faint smile crossed her face.
"It seems they've arrived," she murmured. "He's here—we can begin as soon as he reaches the stage, my lord envoy."
"Good. It would have been a shame to end this so badly."
Licerio climbed to the stage and approached the envoy. They looked at each other, and Licerio knelt before him.
"We are all assembled. By the grace and virtue of his majesty, and by the authority he has vested in me, I name Licerio Bareo the new Baron of Lisea and Rosea." He said this as he handed Licerio a decree, making the title official.
"I am grateful for his majesty's grace, and I swear to defend the territories his majesty has entrusted to us against any who would seek to enter his kingdom by force."
Licerio rose from the ground, the decree in one hand and his father's sword in the other, and swept his gaze across the whole square, letting it linger a moment longer on the left side.
"Congratulations, baron," the envoy said with a small applause, moving to stand beside Licerio. "I hope to hear your name ring out in the royal capital one day."
"I hope so too, Lord Lorel—I hope my name rings out across every corner of this world."
"Ambition is a good thing, but too much is dangerous—especially when you show it so openly. Older men don't like to see their world change without their permission," he said with a serious expression.
"Thank you for the warning. But I've only shown my ambition to you, Lord Lorel." Licerio turned his head and looked at him. "Besides, it will be easier for his majesty to manage a person when he knows what they want."
"What a shame his majesty isn't here to hear you," he sighed.
Licerio shared a few more remarks with Lord Lorel while watching his mother slip quietly through the square toward the left side, where two men stood—one upright, the other seated.
That afternoon, Licerio left Lord Lorel in the care of a servant until dinnertime and made his way to the room where his father was recovering.
When he entered, he found his father resting in bed and his mother playing with the wheelchair he had made for his father.
"Would you like one too, mother?"
"No — I'd grow lazy and never want to walk again," she joked.
Licerio played along, grabbed the wheelchair with his mother still sitting in it, and pushed it over to his father's bed.
"How was the chair? We almost missed the whole ceremony because you refused to arrive sitting down at an important event with Marlleo pushing you."
"It's beneath a knight's dignity to sit before a royal envoy," he said, half sulking. "The chair itself—quite good. I paid attention and did what you asked; when you push it over dirt, it gets very uncomfortable, it moves around a lot, and you bounce against the ground. Marlleo also found the wheels somewhat awkward and said they were hard to push and steer."
"I'll keep that in mind for the next attempt. Were you able to enjoy the ceremony from the side of the square?"
"My eyesight is still sharp enough. Sharp enough that I could see you talking at length with the royal envoy up on the stage."
"I don't think it was a good idea to take such a risk just to attend my naming. What would we have done if the envoy had seen you or worked out that you weren't really mad?"
His father looked at Licerio's serious expression and could only give a faint, dry laugh.
"Do you think the envoy or his majesty doesn't already know I'm feigning madness? The king may not seem like much to you right now, but remember—he is still a king. Never forget that. Do you honestly think the king or his envoy would believe I lost my mind over a minor territorial war? Me—a knight who fought dozens of wars for the king?"
Those words made Licerio think. He had been overestimating himself far too much. The more he turned it over, the more he realized he had been thinking of everyone in this world as lesser than him—not on his level.
He had more modern knowledge, but that did not make the people around him stupid. His parents watched their son's face as he worked through it and gave him the time to sort through his doubts on his own.
Now Licerio had to rethink parts of his plans and move with much greater care going forward. He had already tried to account for the hidden power of the kings's and the dukes' theurges in his planning, but with his father's reminder, he felt lost. He knew too little about this world, and that would lead to unexpected problems sooner or later.
"Thank you, Father."
"You can keep going with your plans—just be far more careful. You're still very young, and you've never left this small territory. The world is massive, and you've only seen a tiny piece of it."
The three of them spent a good while together until Licerio had to leave and attend to his work, saying goodbye to his parents and making his way to his new office, accompanied by his father's secretary.
Until he found a new secretary of his own, his father had lent him his. Licerio trusted him considerably but preferred to find his own as soon as possible—someone whose loyalty was entirely to him.
Over the following week, Licerio pushed ahead on part of his work and asked his mother to handle anything that came up while he was away; it was time to go and explore the ruins.
Now that he was baron, he had full authority over the territory's knights and soldiers, making it easy to put the squad together. It consisted of Licerio, the three knights, and their six squires—ten people in total.
With the title of baron now his, it seemed his talent had recognized his new position, and his physical enhancement had returned at a level higher than before—due to having two full territories now rather than just those near a hundred soldiers. From this he could conclude that some form of legitimacy was needed to activate his talent, though he still did not fully understand what that legitimacy required.
When the day of departure came, Licerio said goodbye to his mother and father, promising to flee at the first sign of trouble. The three knights swore to his father that they would give their lives to protect Licerio—and with that, they had his father's blessing to set out.
The journey was relatively straightforward, having been carefully analyzed and planned well in advance. It took a full day to arrive, partly because they had to leave the horses at a nearby village—the ruins lay among rocky hills and dense woodland.
The poor ground and uneven terrain slowed the squad considerably, forcing everyone to watch carefully where they placed each foot to avoid stumbling and twisting an ankle.
When they finally reached the marked location, there was nothing visible to indicate the entrance to the ruins. They had no choice but to rely entirely on the description the former Baron Grojo had given.
Standing in front of the approximate location, the group identified the most likely spot for the entrance—but no matter what they tried, standing on it, lying down on it, or dragging themselves across it, nothing triggered an opening. That led them to give up and try to replicate exactly the way the former baron had stumbled in accidentally.
Marlleo and López argued over who would go first, resolving it with a coin toss—a method suggested and demonstrated by Licerio.
López chose heads, and Marlleo took tails. The coin spun through the air and was caught by Marlleo, who slapped it flat against the back of his other hand. It showed heads.
López moved to the entry point and went through the approach in his head. The former baron had fallen into the ruins after wandering through the area and catching his foot in the undergrowth.
Now López was going to replicate that as closely as he could—letting himself fall at the spot and closing his eyes. Everyone gathered close, watching every detail of the moment.
López closed his eyes and let himself fall. Just before he would have hit the ground, he vanished in front of them all. There was no warning, no disturbance—he simply disappeared.
Everyone in the group felt a surge of excitement and quickly formed a line, entering the ruins one by one. Licerio went in second to last, with Marlleo following as the last to enter.
When Licerio took in the ruins before him, he could not believe what he was seeing—an enormous space opened up around him, filled with columns so wide that a grown man could not wrap his arms around them.
Though the place left everyone struck, they did not lose sight of their purpose and quickly took up a defensive formation, placing Licerio at the center.
They held that formation for several minutes until they felt confident the surrounding area was clear of immediate danger; in places like this, there was no telling what might be waiting in the dark.
The group moved forward at a steady pace until they reached a massive door—five or six meters tall. It appeared to be made entirely of some kind of metal, and given its thickness, opening it by force would have been impossible. It was covered in carvings: wolves, great hills, and various other images, but one carving stood out above all the rest—a giant eye without a pupil, and someone appeared to have cut into it, leaving a deep diagonal gash roughly fifteen centimeters across.
According to what the former Baron Grojo had said, this door had already been open when he entered, meaning the place could already have been looted.
Past the door, a long corridor received them, and although the former baron had said there were no traps, Licerio did not have much confidence in that and had everyone move carefully, watching every step.
As they made their way along the corridor, one of the squires at the front suddenly cried out in pain and dropped to the ground. Everyone fell back and dragged the squire to a spot they judged to be safe.
The squire clutched his leg tightly, sobbing through the pain. Marlleo crouched beside him and examined the wound—a puncture that had gone straight through the leg.
From the diameter and shape of the wound, it appeared to have been made by some kind of arrow with a tiny, sharp tip. On hearing that, a squire and López moved with great care to look for the arrow but found nothing on the ground.
After that, López drew his sword—still in its scabbard—and swept it across the area where the squire had been hit.
He found nothing at first, but when he dragged it along the floor, he felt it catch on something—some kind of thread. When he pushed harder, an impact rang out through the corridor; a projectile had fired and struck López's sheathed sword.
López went to pick up the arrow from the ground but could not find it anywhere. He was absolutely certain something had hit his sword—yet now there was nothing on the floor. No matter how many times he swept the area, it never turned up.
He triggered the thread again, and another impact rang through the corridor; once more, no object on the ground. He could not even see it coming despite focusing entirely on the spot.
After treating the squire well enough for him to walk with some difficulty, the group continued along the corridor—this time with three people sweeping their swords continuously across every surface before taking each step.
López had stayed at Licerio's side while Marlleo and his two squires concentrated on the task of finding the hidden traps.
"How did that useless baron manage to have such luck?" López muttered.
"I'm surprised myself. He wasn't much of a ruler, and he certainly wasn't brave—but his luck must have been something extraordinary."
"We should have tied him up and brought him along. If his luck had run out this time, we wouldn't have lost anything with his death."
As they spoke, the muffled echo of projectiles hitting swords or the corridor walls rang out every so often around them.
The corridor was so long that the effort of clearing it wore everyone down, and Licerio called a rest—above all for Marlleo and his squires.
They had reached another door—this one considerably smaller than the last, a normal size.
Behind this door would be the final chamber, where the baron had found the object that had bought him a barony and a fortune.
One of the squires approached the door and opened it. Finding no immediate danger, the whole group entered. They had heard a brief description of this last room, but seeing it for themselves left them without words.