"Hill, explain what these things are!"

Hill tossed a book and a leg bone onto the ground. The book’s cover bore a magic circle, while the bone was etched with intricate runes.

Rein wasn’t sure about the book, but he recognized the bone.

Life Magic—called Necromancy by the Holy See—could resurrect the dead. The resurrected wouldn’t die as long as arcane power sustained them, reassembling even from shattered remains within moments. Though retaining their consciousness, they’d obey the one who revived them utterly. This leg bone was essential for casting Life Magic, much like a mage’s staff for Arcane Magic.

Whether it was human bone, however, was debatable. Human bones made poor magical conduits. Dragon bones or beastkin bones worked best—the latter came from men transformed by the Dark Overlord’s corruption. No longer human, their bones sprouted jagged protrusions. The bone Hill presented had none.

Yet these two items proved Rachel was a mage. In these times, being caught as one meant guilt unless the true culprit was found.

"I’m a mage, but I’ve never harmed anyone…" Rachel picked up the grimoire, her voice calm. "I study Life Magic to heal wounds beyond medicine’s reach—like Beastification Sickness."

(Beastification Sickness was the official term for men infected by the Dark Overlord’s power.)

Her explanation meant nothing to the ignorant crowd. To them, sorceress and female mage were interchangeable. After overhearing her words, their clamor unified into a single demand: execute Rachel.

"Silence!" Hill raised a hand. When the noise faded, he addressed Rachel. "I must detain you. Do you object?"

"I’m no criminal! You have no right!"

"Remember—you’re a suspect. I can hold you for twelve hours."

"…"

Rachel stood, her blue eyes locked onto Hill. The crowd recoiled instantly, as if fearing she’d unleash her earlier fury upon them.

Watching her, Rein—a seasoned mage—felt a pang of regret. The evidence was thin, but without proof by dawn, Rachel would face the pyre. He sensed potent arcane power slumbering within her, untapped due to poor guidance.

*Back in my day, I never took apprentices,* Rein mused. *I scorned those with poor aptitude… and couldn’t be bothered with the talented.*

A sudden urge struck him: *I should make her my disciple.* But first, she had to survive the night.

Soon after, Hill returned to the tavern. "It’s late," he announced. "We’ll reconvene tomorrow."

Rein was assigned a room with Sophia. He’d hoped for solitude—to slip out and investigate—but that plan collapsed. Thankfully, Sophia left shortly after showing him the room, not saying where she was headed.

Checking the stars, Rein gauged it was around eight. He opened the window. The streets were empty save for night watchmen; most houses lay dark.

Just as he climbed onto the sill, he paused. Retreating, he pulled a blank sheet from the desk drawer. Placing his palm on it, arcane glyphs surfaced one by one, a second per character. When finished, he scanned the text, then appended a magical sigil to authenticate it.

Tucking the scroll into his robes, Rein slipped out the window.