Chapter 416: Young Galen
No sooner had Serah left her father’s study than she’d made her way to the front gates of the royal estate, summoning a carriage for herself and setting off toward the Crimson Knight Academy in Ilios.
She now sat comfortably inside a sleek black carriage adorned with elegant gold designs, drawn by two imposing black stallions. At the helm sat a middle-aged coachman, reins in hand, guiding the horses at a steady pace through the city of Ilis and onward toward its twin, Ilios. Serah lounged back into the velvet-cushioned seat, one leg elegantly crossed over the other, her gaze fixed outside the window, following the blur of people and buildings as they passed.
’From the way he reacted, I’m pretty sure he believed me,’ she mused, her expression unreadable as her eyes remained out the window.
Her father had expected a report the moment she returned, and she’d known he’d probe about the blood demon encounter. He always did. She had considered several lies beforehand—plausible ones—but truth be told, Tharion was an annoyingly difficult man to deceive... or at least, that’s what he liked to believe.
For Serah, hiding the truth from her father came as naturally as breathing or drinking water. King Tharion had one fatal flaw—his pride. If his ears caught wind of something that pleased them or aligned with his assumptions, then he could be bought with words alone.
She had seen the unknown dark mage’s face clearly. And more than that, she knew his name and age because the idiot had blurted it out during their brief chaos. She still wasn’t even sure if he’d been serious or just messing with her, but regardless, she remembered.
Marcus. That was the name.
However, Serah had crafted a report that was half-truth, laced with a few strategic tweaks that erased Marcus from the narrative completely.
It had worked better than expected—smoother, even. Far less trouble than she’d prepared for.
Even if she had told the entire truth—that she’d fought the demon alongside a dark mage, that his name was Marcus, that he had told her of two kinds of Blood Demons—her father’s reaction would’ve been predictable.
"A dark mage is still a dark mage," she could almost hear him say.
"Nothing can change that old man’s mind," Serah muttered, leaning back fully into the seat now, arms folding beneath her chest.