"No wonder he serves under Zeref. Even before entering the city, I can sense his magical power matching mine."
Precht recognized this trip was not going to be straightforward. He altered his appearance, carefully suppressed every trace of his magical output, and only then allowed himself to pass as an ordinary traveler.
Vistarion's streets were wide and clean. The city's energy was not unlike the capital of Fiore, its bustling activity carrying the same weight of a place that knew it mattered. The people on the streets moved with purpose but without strain, most of them carrying themselves with the ease of people who were not worried about tomorrow.
Soldiers patrolled in regular intervals and the residents looked at them without fear or resentment. The relationship between the military and the population was clearly a comfortable one.
"Could it be that the Black Wizard Zeref actually has the instincts of a capable ruler?"
Precht turned this strange thought over as he walked. He had assumed a nation built entirely through conquest would show the strain of it in its people. That didn't seem to be the case.
Whether Zeref himself possessed genuine governing ability or simply had ministers capable enough to compensate, the result was the same. And it was not good news for Ishgar. A prosperous population meant deep logistical reserves. A country like that, once it went to war, would be extremely difficult to wear down.
Precht produced a small notebook and jotted down his observations, then found a quiet alleyway to change his appearance again before moving on.
After working his way carefully around the capital and its surrounding areas, Precht arrived at a figure that surprised him.
Setting aside the patrols within the city itself, the area around Vistarion was garrisoned with approximately five hundred thousand troops.
Five hundred thousand.
It felt as though the military outnumbered the civilian population. The western continent's military strength was something well beyond what anyone in Ishgar had estimated. And why would a unified empire station that concentration of force around its own capital?
"Either the capital is facing some kind of threat, or they are already preparing to move."
He was beginning to think war was genuinely imminent.
"Hmm. Have I been spotted?"
A powerful, undisguised magical presence was moving toward him. Precht changed direction smoothly, shifted his clothing, and moved quickly toward the city's edge.
A cold wind cut through the street.
The road Precht had been standing on moments before was suddenly encased in solid ice. Several surrounding streets followed. The season appeared to have shifted from early spring to deep winter in a matter of seconds. Snow began to fall. Ice sculptures stood where buildings had been.
"It's freezing!"
"Ice?!"
"Achoo!"
People on the street shivered together, rubbing their arms, sneezing in overlapping waves. The patrolling soldiers startled for a moment, then recovered quickly.
"No need to panic. That's Lord Invel's magic."
Nobody had panicked, as it turned out. The buildings that had been encased in ice were completely intact, windows still open. Children who had been nearby a moment ago were already poking their heads out and beginning to treat the frozen streets as a playground.
The level of control Invel Yura was demonstrating over his own magic was exceptional.
At the far end of the frozen street, a young man appeared. Blue coat, long blue hair arranged in a precise and somewhat severe style, glasses, hands in his pockets, the heels of his long boots making clean sounds on the ice with each step.
"Lord Invel!"
"Lord Invel!"
Soldiers came to attention along the street. Civilians looked at him with open reverence. Invel Yura's expression remained neutral. He stopped and let his senses reach out across the surrounding area, frowning faintly.
"He got away?"
A kilometer distant, in a narrow alley, Precht dissolved from view like smoke.
Above the alley, a vast cloud of golden sand materialized in the sky, spreading like an enormous open hand reaching downward.
The sand came down and filled the entire alleyway. Passersby in the vicinity quietly gave it a wide berth, murmuring among themselves.
"Here we go again."
"Lord Ajeel throws a fit so quickly."
"That much sand is going to be a nuisance to clear."
"It's fine. Lord Ajeel will sort it out."
A young man with dark, spiky hair walked to the end of the alley, still muttering. "Filthy rats. Running that fast."
Outside the city walls, Precht pressed his back against a tree.
"Young people these days."
"Yes. Remarkable young people, aren't they."
An old voice came from directly above him.
Precht went still. Someone had gotten that close without him noticing at all? He looked up and saw a white-bearded old man descending slowly through the air, his staff emitting a light so faint it was almost imperceptible. As the concealment magic dissolved, the magical pressure that emerged beneath it was suffocating. The air seemed to vibrate with it. The trees around them groaned.
What an extraordinary magic output. And beyond that...
Precht realized with a jolt that what the old man had been using to conceal himself was the exact same technique Precht had used to slip into the city. A piece of ancient magic that almost nobody living should know.
"I am August. Commander of the Spriggan Twelve."
August landed in front of him, offered that brief introduction, and leveled his staff at Precht with an expression of complete calm.
"Precht. Second Guild Master of Fairy Tail on the Ishgar continent. Former master of Grimoire Heart. You've come to Alvarez. What do you want?"
The legendary Wizard King who commanded every form of magic.
Precht could feel the power radiating from that staff. One wrong word and he would not be leaving this place. While he was still working out how to respond, something caught his attention. August's magical signature had a quality he couldn't quite place.
"Neither light nor darkness."
Precht's pupils contracted.
That particular combination, so strange and yet so immense, was not something he could ever forget. His voice came out very slowly.
"You. You are. Back then, you were..."
August watched his expression and said coolly, "It seems you remember. An unpleasant memory, I imagine."
He paused.
"You needn't worry. I don't hate you."
Another pause.
"That said, your presence in Alvarez at this particular moment suggests you didn't come here to sightsee. Might I invite you to stay awhile as our guest?"
Precht's pulse was running fast now.
It was him. It was actually him. Mavis's child. The one Precht had once considered killing because of who his father was, and then couldn't bring himself to do it, and had walked away from instead. He had abandoned that child. He had never looked back.
And now, more than ninety years later, here he was.
Had Zeref found him? Of course. This was Zeref's country. A child born carrying that much magical power, raised within reach of Zeref, it wasn't surprising he had survived decades beyond what an ordinary life would allow.
Damn it. He had forgotten entirely about this. He had to get back and tell Mavis.
Precht made his decision quickly.
"I'm sorry. I don't plan to stay."
"Is that so." August's tone didn't change. "A shame."
He didn't hesitate. The magic in his staff activated without ceremony. A beam of light struck the ground where Precht had been standing.
A column of deep red magic erupted outward, the heat of it reducing every tree and stone it touched to nothing. The entire stretch of forest blazed with crimson light that cut all the way to the horizon.