Chapter Text
CHAPTER 1: The Wizard King’s Trap
The crimson sunset of the last day of May slowly faded behind the rolling mountain ranges, giving way to the dazzling, dreamlike night of the Mask Festival that spread across the Clover Kingdom.
In stark contrast to the usual quiet dignity of the Noble Realm, the Central District has already come alive with lights. Families poured into the streets, chatting excitedly as they walked, accompanied by the beats of goatskin drums and the lively sounds beloved by common folk.
Yet inside the Wizard King’s spacious office, the atmosphere was strangely tense and stifling. Even the sound of birds flapping their wings outside the window seemed unusually clear.
“Secret patrol order for the Central District during the Commoners’ Mask Festival?”
Nozel Silva frowned deeply. His cool voice carried a sharp edge of suspicion and displeasure. The Silva prince stared at the parchment lying on the desk, where the familiar seal of Time Magic occasionally emitted a faint glow belonging to Julius Novachrono.
For a high-ranking noble who valued dignity and cleanliness as much as he did, being forced to lower himself into a crowded commoner district on such a chaotic night felt nothing short of torture.
Julius sat behind the desk, with his fingers laced together beneath his chin, trying very hard to hide the grin stretching nearly from ear to ear.
His violet eyes sparkled with barely concealed excitement as he leaned forward slightly and put on a mysterious expression.
“That’s right, Nozel-kun, Fuegoleon-kun! A few unusual magical disturbances have appeared near the center of the festival. But you know - today is a day of celebration for the people. If the Magic Knight squads make a grand appearance, it’ll only cause panic. So I want my two most capable captains to disguise themselves and investigate quietly. It’ll look just like a date… ah, I mean, a highly exciting undercover mission. Doesn't that sound fun?”
The truth was, this so-called “mission” was largely the product of Julius’s overly imaginative mind.
Lately, whenever he enthusiastically invited Nozel to inspect some new fascinating type of magic, the Silva prince would always respond with the same icy, irritated expression. Yet the moment the kingdom’s passionate Vermillion captain happened to appear, the atmosphere would mysteriously soften.
With the keen instincts of someone who specialized in snooping around for magical oddities… and everyone else’s business, Julius immediately caught the scent of something suspicious between these two younger captains!
He thought to himself that, if they kept spending every day growling at each other under the banner of being “royal rivals,” things would become unbearably boring.
Rather than that, why not play matchmaker for a night? It would give them a chance to “get closer,” and more importantly...
Neither of them would have any time left to go looking for him!
Standing beside a visibly bristling Nozel, Fuegoleon Vermillion blinked in surprise, unable to hide the confusion on his face. The Crimson Lion captain quietly considered the situation.
Why would a basic patrol assignment - one that was, frankly, rather simple (far too simple for captains of their caliber), require both him and Nozel to personally intervene?
Under normal circumstances, minor incidents in the commoner districts could easily be handled by mid-ranking or even junior Magic Knights.
Although the mission seemed suspiciously easy and somewhat excessive, Fuegoleon’s upright character and absolute trust in the Wizard King left him without the slightest doubt regarding his superior’s hidden motives.
Setting aside questions, he straightened his posture and bowed respectfully:
“I understand, Lord Julius. The Crimson Lion Kings will complete the mission and ensure the civilians’ safety without causing any unnecessary disturbance.”
The moment Fuegoleon finished speaking, Julius maintained the composed and dignified appearance expected of the kingdom’s highest authority on the outside.
Inside, however, he was screaming, dancing, and celebrating wildly.
Perfect. Perfect. PERFECT!!!
That’s my honest, straightforward lion! Good job, Fuegoleon!
Mission accepted, which means the two of you are officially heading into town together!
If this ship doesn’t sail tonight, then when will it ever sail?!
Ah, freedom, here I come!
Farewell, troublesome reports!
Hahahahaha…
Julius had to use every ounce of self-control he possessed to suppress the idiotic laughter threatening to burst out of his throat.
Nozel let out a sharp snort through his nose.
He shot Fuegoleon a look that practically screamed, “Have you lost your mind? Why are you encouraging him?”. But royal etiquette prevented him from acting out in front of the Wizard King.
Nozel snatched the parchment from the desk, turned on his heel, and started toward the door with open irritation.
“I have no desire to waste any more time here. Let’s go, Fuegoleon.”
“Good luck to both of you, and have a wonderful evening!”
The Wizard King’s cheerful blessing, paired with a mischievous wink, made both Captains freeze at the exact same moment.
Nozel had to devote every shred of his rationality to stopping himself from turning his mercury into a spear and driving it straight through that infuriating grin.
Turning halfway back, he ground out each word through clenched teeth, magic pressure radiating visibly around him.
“Lord Julius, let me make this clear one last time. This is just a mission.”
With that, the Silva prince strode out of the office. His feathered cloak swept up a freezing gust of wind that perfectly reflected his extreme displeasure.
Fuegoleon remained behind for a moment, looking at Julius with helpless resignation:
“Please stop teasing him, Lord Julius. You know perfectly well how serious Nozel is.”
He offered a nod and quickly followed after the other captain’s proud figure.
The heavy door had barely closed before the silence inside lasted less than three seconds. Then it was shattered by Julius’s utterly delighted giggling.
The Wizard King sprang to his feet, clasped his hands behind his head, arched his back, and burst into loud laughter.
To prepare for this “grand escape plan”, Julius had invested a truly unreasonable amount of effort. He had carefully arranged every step in advance several days ago.
This was, without question, an elaborate trap personally designed by the Wizard King.
And the ultimate goal behind it all?
Nothing more than liberating himself from the mountain of reports, administrative documents, and paperwork piled on his desk - mountains that he considered the greatest enemy of freedom!
More importantly, the true target of this scheme was escaping the endless nagging of his diligent assistant, Marx Francois.
Julius knew Marx’s personality all too well. The moment he showed even the slightest sign of wanting to slack off, Marx would immediately launch into a lengthy lecture about duty, responsibility, and the obligations of the kingdom's leader, which would continue until Julius’s ears practically rang.
He also knew perfectly well that Captains Nozel and Fuegoleon were exceptionally disciplined and upright individuals in the kingdom.
If those two remained in the capital tonight, they would inevitably - whether intentionally or not, end up joining with Marx to monitor him and make sure he stayed glued to his desk.
And so, Julius came up with this “one arrow, two birds” solution.
By sending his two greatest obstacles away on a secret patrol of the Central District, he could both distract the attention of the kingdom's most powerful representatives while clearing his own escape route.
Once the white feathered cloak of House Silva and the blazing flames of House Vermillion were no longer wandering nearby, the Wizard King's castle would enter its most vulnerable state.
In other words, it is a perfect opportunity.
The perfect opportunity for him to slip into the festival unnoticed, and enjoy himself without anyone discovering - or worse, stopping him.
Julius clasped his hands together.
"Now that I've successfully sent those two off..."
"It's finally my turn! He."
__________________________________
The bells of the central clock tower rang out three long chimes, signaling the official beginning of the Mask Festival in the Central District.
Unlike the Noble Realm, which was always steeped in dignity and silence, the district was now wrapped with the warm orange-gold glow of thousands of paper lanterns and filled with the lively bustle of common folk.
The broad streets overflowed with every kind of scent - from the sweet aroma of skewered pastries, to the rich fragrance of apple cider drifting from rows of wooden stalls packed shoulder to shoulder along the roadside, to the smoky smell of grilled fish cooking over open flames.
Vendors called out their wares at the top of their lungs. Couples laughed together as they walked through the crowd. Children wearing animal masks darted between the stalls, their delighted shouts mingling with the music. Together, it created an atmosphere so vibrant that it was almost dizzying.
In the open squares, traveling performers entertained the crowds with juggling acts and fire dances. Crimson flames burst into the air before twisting and swirling in time with the pounding drums, lighting up entire stretches of the night sky and earning enthusiastic applause from the crowds gathered around.
To carry out their covert mission smoothly amid such a sea of people, both great Magic Knight Captains had no choice but to set aside their proud identities.
Gone was the gleaming silver-feathered cloak of the Silver Eagles.
Gone too were the blazing crimson attire of the Crimson Lions.
Instead, they wore simple dark civilian clothing, neatly tailored and completely free of any insignia belonging to either House Silva or House Vermillion.
Their appearances were hidden behind half masks - one silver and cold, etched with elegant patterns; the other in deep red, bearing the image of a lion’s powerful mane.
Freed from his heavy armor, Fuegoleon’s disguise consisted of a plain black shirt, dark fitted trousers, and a pair of tall leather boots. The rough fabric was thin yet durable, fitting closely to his frame and revealing every detail of his broad chest, sculpted muscles, and powerful shoulders. The wide leather belt fastened around his waist only further emphasized a physique as solid and dependable as a mountain, ready to shield others from any storm.
Nozel, meanwhile, wore a high-collared ash-gray silk shirt paired with fitted black trousers and a slim leather belt adorned with an elegant silver buckle.
The minimalist design did nothing to diminish his aristocratic elegance. If anything, it highlighted the slender yet deceptively strong lines of his body. His narrow waist, straight shoulders, and proud neck - normally hidden beneath layers of white feathers, were now fully exposed beneath the lantern light, radiating an austere, almost untouchable grace that seemed woven into his very bones.
Though following the same route, they kept a distance of exactly three paces between at all times.
Neither was willing to give way.
Neither was willing to walk beside the other.
Their eyes swept continuously through the crowd while their sharp minds analyzed every corner of the district, searching for any sign of the magical disturbance Julius had mentioned.
“The Wizard King certainly has a talent for making people waste their time.”
Nozel's voice came from behind his silver mask, cold as mercury striking glass. His eyes narrowed at a troupe of street dancers passing by, ash-violet gaze scanned across the flowing crowd with practiced vigilance.
“A few minor magical fluctuations in a commoners’ district, and yet two Captains charged with protecting the kingdom are required to personally disguise themselves and investigate. What a noisy farce. So far, I’ve seen nothing but unorganized chaos.”
“Stop complaining, Nozel. Lord Julius always has his reasons.”
Fuegoleon strode forward steadily, skillfully weaving around a candy stall while keeping one eye on a group of festivalgoers wearing demon masks in the distance.
Then his gaze shifted toward the man beside him. The eyes behind his mask lingered briefly for a moment on Nozel’s outfit.
“Besides... that outfit doesn't look bad on you. At least, it's less cumbersome than all those feathers you wear every day.”
Nozel’s steps faltered for half a beat amid the pounding festival music.
His eyes narrowed immediately in suspicion.
Lifting his chin with aristocratic pride, he shot back a mocking retort to hide the awkwardness beginning to stir beneath the glow of the lantern-lit streets.
“You should worry about yourself first, Fuegoleon. That dark outfit doesn't suit a fire mage like you at all. You look more like some wandering mercenary who got lost in the crowd.”
Fuegoleon let out a hearty laugh, the sound rumbling warmly in his chest.
“A mercenary, huh? At least a mercenary would blend in better than a noble prince patrolling with his back straighter than a spear, Nozel. Relax your shoulders a little. You're attracting more attention than anyone else.”
“Shut up, Vermillion.”
Nozel quickened his pace, cutting off the teasing immediately.
“I've been observing the left side. There are some heat fluctuations near that fire-dancing stall, but everything is under the performers’ control. What about your side?”
“The right side is completely normal.”
Fuegoleon quickly returned to his serious demeanor, his eyes never leaving the movements inside a nearby alley.
“Just ordinary performance magic meant to attract customers. But we can't let our guard down. The crowds tonight are much larger than usual.”
With that, silence fell between them once more as they continued walking down the streets.
Yet the hand beneath Nozel’s sleeve has unconsciously tightened into a fist.
Because he knew he had just lied about Fuegoleon being “rough.”
Beneath that thin shirt, the familiar heat radiating from the Lion’s body seemed capable of crossing even the three-step distance separated them, warming the cold air surrounding Nozel.
There was something undeniably compelling about the steady strength and effortless masculinity in every one of Fuegoleon’s strides through the bustling festival. It carried a subtle pressure that Nozel found difficult to ignore, leaving him breathless whenever his gaze accidentally drifted toward the broad chest of his fellow Captain.
On the other hand, Fuegoleon found himself quietly adjusting his breathing as they passed a noisy group of fire performers.
The dark fabric wrapped closely around the Silver Eagle captain’s lean, graceful frame, accentuating the slender contours hidden beneath his narrow leather belt.
Behind the silver mask, those gray-violet eyes still shone like precious gemstones, standing in contrast to the silver hair falling loosely over his shoulders beneath the flickering firelight.
The combination of Nozel’s innate royal pride and the plain clothing of ordinary civilians created a strangely forbidden allure.
More than once, Fuegoleon nearly lost his concentration. Each time, he was forced to turn away quickly, suppressing the unfamiliar sensation that ran down his spine.
And so they continued through the festival, being trapped in an invisible tension, pretending to devote their full attention to the patrol.
In truth, however, their thoughts had already begun to drift, unsettled by the unexpectedly attractive new appearances of one another in the heart of the festival night.