The Prince Of Magic

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The ancient couple blinked, taken aback by the young mage's statement and the tone he used.

It took a few seconds for them to digest before they finally understood what he had just uttered.

"… Pardon?"

"Quoi (What)?"

Instead of replying to their stunned and surprise responses, Hadrian took those few moments the couple had taken to lean back in the sofa and sip on the tea that Yuuri had silently and gently placed in front of him earlier.

It was not as if he was trying to avoid explaining himself. Rather, he did so to give the couple some time to absorb the gravity of the situation as well as to let them regain their composure.

After all, the news he mentioned was not one that can be taken calmly.

That, and also because leaving the food that were carefully and thoughtfully prepared by his favorite caretakers untouched was not something that Hadrian would pass on.

When he deemed that they were ready, Hadrian slowly lowered the cup to its saucer and spoke again.

Keenly aware that there was no simple way to explain the situation to the couple, the young mage thought it best to bring the news to the Flamels by starting from the beginning.

"Tell me, you two were born in France, yes?" Hadrian began, causing the couple to blink in slight surprise, caught off guard by his sudden inquiry.

"Uh… oui." Nicolas confirmed, nodding hesitantly.

"I was born in England, but one of my parents was French, and when we migrated to France, I grew up there into a.d.u.l.thood and met my husband." Penerelle said, casting a fond glance in Nicolas's direction, who gave her a smile of affection and a soft squeeze on her b.a.r.e knee.

"Then, you're aware of who I just mentioned." Hadrian remarked calmly, continuing when the couple nodded slowly. "That makes it easier for me then. Now, I'm not going to bore you two with the long details and, quite honestly, there is no easy way to tell you of this. But, whatever it is that you know of his fate in the books, most of it are not true. Prelati is alive and well, and we found that he is the instigator of the murders that occurred in my world."

In unison, the Flamels gasped, paling slightly by the news he delivered.

"Prelati?! THE Prelati?!" Nicolas exclaimed, eyes wide in surprise and fear as he suddenly stood up from his seat.

His wife, Penerelle, looked just as surprised as her husband, though her reaction to his statement was more subtle than Nicolas's.

Hadrian blinked.

He expected for them to be horrified by the news, but he didn't expect one of them would actually jump out of their seat.

Nevertheless, Hadrian took their reactions as a sign that they realized the gravity of the situation.

"Yes, that Prelati." Hadrian tilted his head, brows knitting as his green eyes narrowed into focus. "Given your reaction, am I to assume correctly that you realize just how serious my purpose of being here?"

"Oui." Nicolas said with a nod, his expression grim but resolute. "The myths and legends based that man's past might have been downplayed, but they were no less true. He is what historians portrayed him to be. A man who does not care for people and the world, and only moving to prolong his amus.e.m.e.nt, no matter how cruel and deeply immoral his actions were in the eyes of people."

"Have you met him before?" Hadrian quarried, curious to know.

Nicolas laughed, though it sounded hollow to the ears.

"Non, non. Mon dieu (My god), I only heard of his… activities via word of mouth and even that was enough for me." The ancient alchemist said, staring at his cup with mild grimace on his countenance. "The things that he did to those people… the word cruel and immoral would not be enough to describe sa dépravation (his depravity)."

"Nicky and I have been around since the 14th century, and Prelati was born around the 15th." Penerelle said, taking over for her husband who seemed to be in memories of the past, given the far-away look in his eyes. "Just as what it was said in the books, François Prelati was an Italian priest, but in secret, he was actually an alchemist. He has a taste for experimentation, so he would use his influence to lure in sick people under the guise of 'healing them back to good health' with his tonics and inventions. All people of different status were not safe from his sight, so his victims were anyone he can reach. Although, the normal folk had it worse than most magical people, considering their lack of awareness to his true nature and the medieval times had been worse to those with low-born status."

Hadrian nodded quietly, understanding her explanation.

The information that she told them was similar to what his grandfather had said before his departure.

On the other hand, the Flamels' kind nature and their sympathy to people, even the normal folk, earned Hadrian's respect and sympathy for them.

After all, it's a rare characteristic to find in magical people, even more so in magi back in his world.

"Hmm… that is similar to what opa had discovered about him." Hadrian said in a thoughtful tone. "He also mentioned this, that that wretch had been forced to migrate to France when his actions had finally caught up to him."

"Oui, that's correct." Nicolas said after clearing his throat, looking composed now as he sat straight in his seat. "Ironically, a commoner who was related to one of his victims happened to caught him in the act. When he discovered what he did to his patients, he ran to the authorities and told them of Prelati's activities. The royal guards and knights went to the latter's abode to detain and execute him for his many trespasses. Unfortunately, the rat managed to escape before he was captured. Somehow, he had gotten word of his arrest and he left before the authorities could find and capture him."

"And that's when he moved to France, which happened to be in a time of turmoil due to Jeanne d'Arc's public execution." Penerelle added, nose wrinkling slightly in distaste.

"The Maid of Orléans." Hadrian said with narrowed eyes.

"Oui." Penerelle dipped her head slightly in acknowledgement, a tight smile on her lips. "Horrible times, those are. That particular event can truly make you question the sanity of people in that era. It's ironic, really, that people only started to recognize her as a Saint after they burned her at the stake."

'Heresy…' The voice of King Hassan hissed in Hadrian's mind through their telepathic link.

Hadrian exhaled, closing his eyes briefly as he felt the rising murderous intent that the powerful assassin was exuding.

'King Hassan, please calm yourself. There are civilians here…' Hadrian reminded, sympathizing with the old man's feelings but mindful of the Flamels' safety.

While his retainers can take the pressure from the assassin's killing intent, given their true natures as Heroic Spirits, Hadrian was not sure about the couple's well-being.

Fortunately, before anything could happen, the murderous intent vanished, as if it was never there to begin with.

'Umu…' was all the powerful assassin had said in response, which was as close to an apology that Hadrian would ever get in such a situation.

Hadrian let out quiet sigh of relief through his nose, relaxing in his seat when the assassin seemed to have heeded his words.

One quick glance around the room, he noticed some of his retainers were a bit tense from their respective positions, most likely having felt the murderous intent as well.

He let out a quiet huff of amus.e.m.e.nt when he saw that the only ones who were unaffected were the Flamel couple, Astolfo and Charles.

Hadrian could understand the Flamel couple, considering as neither seemed to be well proficient in art of combat, but Astolfo and Charles were different. The last two were servants, they possessed bodies nearly identical to humans with peak conditions, and yet they remained unaware of the murderous aura that the old assassin had briefly exuded a few moments ago.

Inwardly, the young mage can only shake his head at the two retainers' lack of awareness.

'Seems like I'm not the only one who needs more training…' Hadrian deadpanned.

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