Chapter 27: Reading reports while she's sleeping. (um! i think I have to reread them…)

Upper Fire Month, 11th Day, 600 AGG

"Do not dawdle," Fluder sternly reprimanded his acolyte. "Remember that these subhumans would rip you to pieces the moment you display weakness."

"Y-Yes, Master," the disciple shakily laid his hands upon the sword of Fluder's personal guard. They were sworn to him directly, their loyalty vetted by the Tri-Arts Caster himself, so there was no chance of his plans being leaked. "『Magic Weapon』."

The seasoned warrior nodded in thanks as the blade glowed with a dim, ethereal light. He approached the rounded-up group of shivering demihumans and joined his fellows in the macabre task of removing their limbs. Other guards followed behind, their torches cauterizing the wounds with a practiced smoothness.

Fluder didn't need their bodies to be whole—just being alive was good enough. Besides, it was far easier to transport and wrangle them this way. Honestly, the most annoying part of the process was searching for more settlements and the noise.

"Is that all?" He looked around the scorched jungle.『Conflagration』was certainly a useful spell; it was one he had devised himself to quickly remove large swathes of undergrowth and cover. Unfortunately, it was even less effective than 『Fireball』at killing despite being of the Fifth-Tier.

'Well, there isn't a need for it to be good at killing,' Fluder mused. There wasn't a shortage of suitable offensive techniques in his repertoire anyways. "Less than a hundred this time… Perhaps we need to conduct another aerial survey."

"Master," the two disciples he had brought along looked at each other before turning to face him. "We, We're running low on mana. We beg forgiveness for our weakness, but we cannot continue at this pace."

"Ha…" Fluder sighed. "Very well. Let us move all of these materials to the temporary holding area and leave the rest for tomorrow."

He and his two disciples casted『Floating Board』, allowing the warriors to load the delimbed demihumans upon the magical constructs. The tangled woodlands to the northwest of Arwinter was a vast and perilous place. Even getting as far as they had took weeks of grueling effort.

The difficult terrain of the jungle meant that they needed to set up multiple base camps in order to eventually haul the captured demihumans to his demesne. If it were just himself, it would be trivial to teleport there, but it wasn't feasible with the load they were ferrying. Flight was equally as impractical; Fluder had no desire to borrow the Imperial Air Guard and give dear Jircniv the… wrong ideas.

Thus, they had to take this roundabout—and very expensive—path. It would be even more expensive were it not for his extensive use of golems and undead to reduce the number of human elements in his plan. Constructs and corpses did not need to rest, after all.

Fluder was certain that the demihuman tribes living within the forest were already in the process of forming a coalition to get rid of him, but he'd be long gone by then. And if they decided to attack the Empire proper, then well, it was all the more beneficial to him.

Fluder glanced as the two acolytes and the small detachment of his guards he had brought along. A few appeared vaguely sick. Fluder frowned to himself. Would he have to remove some of them after all?

'The demihumans were found to be preparing a foul ritual,' Fluder constructed the scenario in his head. 'And so in fulfilling my responsibilities as a protector of the Empire, I and a few other worthy souls took it upon ourselves to put an end to their wickedness. Some of them perished, tragically so, but their sacrifice will be forever remembered by those they sought to protect.'

It was a poor excuse for anyone who bothered thinking or investigating it, but for the masses? The story would be more than good enough for them to praise his name to the skies. He was the Tri-Arts Caster, the hero of the Empire, someone who had climbed to the Sixth-Tier of magic. Additionally, such a setting made it easier to justify collecting criminals for his project under the guise of wanting to give them a chance at redemption.

'It's a shame we're on such poor terms with the Draconic Kingdom,' Fluder regretfully thought not for the first time. It was disappointing how Jircniv was so set on disliking Queen Oriculus. 'Putting aside their queen's bloodline and Talent for primordial magic, that new angel seems to have brought them under her aegis as well.'

He wasn't too disappointed about it if he were being honest with himself. As a Sixth-Tier spellcaster, it would be trivial to meet with them. The political consequences were unimportant when faced with the possibility of delving deeper into the abyss of magic.

That being said, he was so close. So close to stepping over the invisible boundary limiting him, beyond the ceiling of human prowess. Wouldn't an achievement acquired through his own efforts taste all the sweeter?

Besides, if this ritual was a failure, he was perfectly willing to defect to the Draconic Kingdom if the Lady of Wings proved to be a powerful spellcaster. His talents were plenty, and the benefits he had to offer were equally so, especially for a nation in the process of recovering from a long and bitter oppression.

"『Wall of Force』," Fluder absentmindedly waved his hand and formed an invisible wall that blocked the incoming volley of arrows with contemptuous ease. "『Widen Magic - Cloudkill』."

A yellowish green fog settled beyond the protection of the wall. A second later, choked screams and shouts of panic reached the ears of Fluder's group. "『Summon Monster Sixth』."

A Fire Elemental over four meters tall roared into existence. Fluder mentally commanded the elemental to slam into the tangle of vegetation, incinerating the already wounded demihumans who had been hiding in the cover. Of course, the elemental was also wounded by『Cloudkill』, but Fluder had no desire to keep it around for long.

The air was filled with the nauseatingly sweet stench of roasted flesh.

"Incredible," one of his acolytes muttered in awe. "To have defeated the enemy before we could even see them… As expected of Master!"

"One day, you may also reach these heights if you work hard enough," Fluder stroked his beard with a kind smile. "But I do not think I have to warn you that the art of the arcane is as dangerous as it is fathomless."

"Of course, Master!" he rapidly shook his head up and down. "To teach us even in such an environment, Master is truly a spellcaster without peer!"

Fluder's smile turned bitter. He was mostly sure that his magical prowess surpassed the likes of even the Thirteen Heroes.

But 'mostly' wasn't 'absolutely.' The topic was still contested among spellcasters, adventurers, and laymen across the lands that humanity called home.

'With this… They will have no choice but to accept that I have surpassed the long-dead legends of ages past.'

"More are coming," one of his personal warriors calmly said to him without a trace of worry marring his face. And why should he be worried? Beside him stood the greatest archmage in the last two centuries, a being who could single-handedly annihilate entire armies with his powerful magic.

"Stand back, if you would," Fluder pointed at the trees and undergrowth before them. "『Widen Magic - Conflagration』."

Streams of fire lashed forth from Fluder's outstretched palm and splashed onto the surrounding forest. The flames licked up the trees, the vines, grass and shrubbery in their searing hunger—leaving nothing behind but ashes and moans of agony.

The Archmage frowned. Would they be able to stack the fallen goblins as well? It would be a waste if they died on transit, but perhaps their corpses could still have some use… no, it was an unnecessary burden at the moment.

"Let us continue onwards," the small contingent forged ahead. "There's still much to do."

"You should run," Marquis Raeven poured Prince Zanac a glass of brandy. "Seek asylum in some other nation. Maybe the Draconic Kingdom?"

"That's not funny, even as a joke," Zanac downed the whole glass in one go. "I'll be surprised if they didn't just send me to El-Nix in a gift-wrapped box."

As a member of the Re-Estize Royal Family, there was no way any person of authority in the Draconic Kingdom would view him positively. And why should they when the Re-Estize Kingdom never answered their overtures for aid? Compared to the Empire who had at least sent some form of military assistance, it was obvious who the royalty and nobility of the Draconic Kingdom would favor.

"Angels are said to be beings of great benevolence," Raeven chuckled before his expression sobered. "Forgive me. My jest was in poor taste. In all seriousness, will you really refuse to go seek refuge in the Council States? My contacts there can ensure that you live a life of relative safety and comfort."

"Tempting," Zanac poured himself another glass. "Won't that be troublesome for you though?"

"Hardly," Raeven scoffed. "Baharuth's legions are content with taking their time, so it's not as if there's a multitude of preparations that need to be made."

"There's no guarantee assassins wouldn't be sent after me."

"I doubt it," Raeven winced. "Ah, by that I mean it'll be a poor use of resources. After all, you would no longer be a factor in the political scene here which accomplishes his goals just as well."

"I'll stay then. If there's no difference between dying by El-Nix's hand or running away, then I might as well go out in a way that lets me retain some semblance of dignity."

"Perhaps," Raeven wryly smiled. "There's nothing else you wish to live for?"

"As long as the people of the kingdom are taken care of, then I can rest easy in the next life," Zanac shrugged and leaned back in his chair. "And that damn Jircniv looks like he'll do a great job anyways. Maybe we should've just let him conquer us sooner if this was going to be how everything ended."

"How treasonous," the Marquis quipped. "Is there truly no place we can turn to for help?"

"You'd know that better than me," Zanac raised an eyebrow. "So, what's the bad news?"

"The Holy Kingdom, as always, cited their problems with demihumans," Raeven emptied the rest of the bottle into his glass. "The Theocracy turned away my courier while citing disappointment in both our nations, Karnassus needs to deal with the Centaurs, the Council States wishes to remain uninvolved, and the Draconic Kingdom… well, you already know."

"And so we stand alone," Zanac took a sip. "I'm a little surprised the Theocracy would remain so disinterested though; isn't the Empire a larger hive of heretics than even us?"

"I'm sure they're just happy the 'heretics' are busy killing each other," Raeven swirled around the alcohol in his cup. "More like, they also believe the Empire can run the kingdom better than the kingdom can."

"We're well and truly out of options then… even now, the two factions still can't unite."

"What about your sister?"

"What about her?" Zanac's mood immediately soured. That monstrous being that wore the skin of a human had been keeping a low profile ever since the fall of E-Rantel. Surely with the entire Royal Family in danger, even she would feel some concern, no? Zanac thought it unlikely; there was only one thing she genuinely cared about.

"Do you think she sold us out? It'll be a simple way to curry favor with El-Nix."

"No, it'll be a poor plan for the long-term. How do you trust someone who sells out their own so easily? There's no way her plan is so straightforward."

"But you do think she's defected, or if she has not, plan to defect?"

"Unless she can revive Gazef-fucking-Stronoff himself from the dead, then I'm pretty certain that she's aligning herself with the Empire," Zanac snorted and polished off his cup. "Don't bring up the damn angel either; we'll have better odds betting on El-Nix pulling back his knights and apologizing."

"I see…" Raeven fell into deep thought. "Isn't she in contact with Lady Aindra?"

"There's no body to resurrect," Zanac bluntly shut down the idea. "El-Nix is thorough if nothing else. Dammit, this wouldn't be a problem if father grew a pair and let the Warrior Captain set out with his full equipment…"

"Hm, I suppose you're right in saying that there's no recourse for us."

"Well! There's nothing to be done about it," Zanac stood up. "It's not what we envisioned for the kingdom, but it's hardly the worst possible outcome. Maybe Re-Estize was destined to fall from the start."

"I wonder what the nobles would say if they heard you say that," Raeven stood up as well, extending his hand towards Zanac. "Prince. As short as our partnership may have been, it's been a pleasure. If you ever change your mind…" His voice trailed off.

"Of course," Zanac firmly grasped and shook the Marquis's hand. "And you stay safe, you damn bastard. The people are going to need at least one person that cares."

"The work never ends," Raeven released his grip and lamented. "Hopefully we'll have another chance to meet like this before the Bloody Emperor gets his grubby fingers all over the capital."

"Who knows—" Zanac frowned as Raeven suddenly stiffened. "What's wrong?"

"Your Royal Highness," and with that formal address, Zanac immediately knew he was not going to like what followed. "Your father…"

The Marquis didn't seem to know how to continue.

"Well?" Zanac tried to put on a brave front. "Out with it."

"My sincerest condolences," Raeven bowed before him. It was such a departure from the Great Noble's usual countenance that Zanac couldn't completely hold back the tremors of dread wracking his hands. "I've received a 『Message』from Lundqvist. Your brother, Crown Prince Barbro has passed away."

"Shit."

Renner played with the potion-filled crystal vial in her hand.

She really had to thank her brother for making it so easy for her; the boor of a man didn't even bother checking the swapped out stamina potion after his combat exercises. Naturally, everyone believed it to be foul play on Baharuth's part, and with the Kingdom's aversion to relying on spellcasters, it was highly unlikely they would connect it to her.

Even if anyone cared enough to look closer into the homicide, they would end up catching the maid who was responsible for procuring Barbro's alchemical solutions.

'Ah, no. They imprisoned her already,' Renner corrected herself. 'She played her role well.'

Now that Barbro was dead by the hands of the honorless Empire, her father would absolutely not accept any peaceful resolution to the conflict. Re-Estize would be embroiled in a brutal war that would make people wish the farce at Katze Plains continued. Countless Empire knights and Kingdom peasants alike would perish in the bloodshed, until she—the Golden Princess—could finally take no more and give herself up as a hostage to end the suffering of the people.

If Jircniv was already inclined to agree to her demands, this would guarantee it. That is, unless he wished to conquer a mound of smoldering ruins.

It was a little unfair, making things so difficult on the poor Emperor, but she had to make doubly—triply—sure for the sake of herself and her puppy.

Renner drained the potion, the arcane concoction filling her body with renewed vitality. The princess dropped the vial on the ground and crushed it underfoot.

"Oh, Climb!" Tears flooded out of her eyes as she threw open her door and sobbed into her puppy's warm chest. "I-It's so terrible, what happened to br-brother!"

The events have been set in motion.

Now all she needed to do was wait.