Working for the castle wasn't easy, but I wouldn't deny that there were benefits. Well, benefits would be stretching it just a bit. But compared to a lot of other places I heard about, those who worked as part of the castle staff certainly got better treatment and pay, including even days off. Not many days off, granted, especially with the Gala quickly approaching. I wasn't even sure what I was nervous about the event for. I certainly wasn't going to be involved in any real capacity. Sure, the castle staff were expected to be on their best behavior and do their jobs, and while I was good, I wasn't purely at the top of the pecking order, either.

Maybe it was just my nerves. It would be a massive event, and important to Tristian's future. I still didn't have the handle on regional politics as much as I would like, but I could read a room well enough to know what was coming, it was big. Very big.

Part of the reason I was oh so willing to take the last day I could off. We were going to be busy, so I might as well enjoy one last day. The capital itself was an interesting sight to see. Growing up in the United States, and never being one to travel around much, I'd never got to see anything quite like it in person, but it gave off a distinct vibe of an old European City. One that would be found in old pictures and textbooks, a genuine medieval city, with a surprising amount of hustle and bustle.

I wasn't alone either. I'd mostly be dragged out, as despite us getting a solid bit of money, I was never one to spend money. I was very, stingy. Not to say I didn't have hobbies, but I doubted Tristian or any other nation on the continent had a trading card game market, and was certain that no video game market existed. I mean, that was a sign that I needed a new hobby, granted, but I barely had time for things like that, between work, training, and getting enough sleep to repeat the process.

But it was nice to get out on the town if one would. Enjoy the somewhat fresh air and the, rattling of chains? The noise snapped me out of my thoughts, as I noticed a throng of people to my right. There was faint muttering going on, as I cautiously approached the scene. What exactly was going on here? It wasn't like prisoners were a sight I was unfamiliar with, but I hadn't seen anything quite like this before. Did some high-profile criminal get caught recently, or something?

I managed to peak through the heads of the crowd, despite my height. I got a few glimpses as the prison carriage came down the road. The person inside was a woman, with long green hair that was stained with dirt. A pair of glasses, partially broken, sat on her face, which looked rather dower.

She was a prisoner, which would explain that. But I doubted most common criminals would be paraded through the streets like this. Or be under such heavy guard, for that matter. That didn't happen unless you didn't want someone escaping. That did narrow things down a bit if I knew enough about the big wig bounties. Fouquet was infamous, and a natural first guess. I'd almost equate them to a magical Robin Hood, but instead of stealing from the rich and giving to the poor, they only seemed to keep for themselves.

Which more or less killed any chance of my being a fan. But Fouquet's gender was unknown, a giant question mark that was part of the reason they made for such an effective thief. Nobody knew what they looked like, so nobody knew if someone was Fouquet or not. Scouting out manor was probably a whole lot easier if nobody had any idea who you were. I could admire that level of cleverness if nothing else.

But that was if, which could be very large if. I looked to see if there were anything I could use to determine who she was without resorting to asking any of the crowd. But no such luck. Between the bobbing heads in front of my and the fact I was still working my way through the written language, I wasn't having any luck deciphering anything. Which meant I was going to have to do one of the things I hated most.

Talk to strangers.

"Excuse me, Sir, but I can't see over the crowd. Can you please tell me what is happening?" I asked, doing my best to sound polite.

"You haven't heard? Fouquet was captured, at the Academy, no less," the man's voice was rough and smelled of smoke. I did my best to avoid gagging on the terrible odor.

"I had not," I said simply, processing the information. Fouquet? Being captured at the Academy? Was it that Academy, the one Louise went to? I wonder if she had anything to do with this. She certainly seemed like the type, but I couldn't see anything that pointed to her involvement. "Do they have any idea what she was after?"

"Some type of artifact, I hear. Something called the Staff of Destruction, though I doubt it's all the nobles make it out to be," he said, turning back around, as I frowned. Staff of Destruction? That sounded ominous. Something that ended in destruction was rarely if ever, a good sign, even if used for noble ends.

Still, that was something best locked up in a vault under lock and key. It was a good thing that wasn't running around on the black market somewhere. Whoever caught her, did a good job, at least preventing some dumbass from getting his hands on something devastating.

So why did I have such a bad feeling in my stomach about this? She was captured, and no longer in a position to do any more harm. Yeah, no, something about that I didn't trust. This close to the Gala? Maybe I was being paranoid, and the stress was getting to me. That had to be it. It was just nerves and stress. I wasn't even going to be all that involved. For Henrietta, it had to be a whole lot worse, even if she was used to such social gatherings by this point.

Everything would go just fine.

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"This is beginning to look more and more like a trap with each report I get," King Joseph looked at the written words. Normally, the capture of Fouquet would be a good thing. While he hadn't had enough evidence to link the thief to the Albion Rebellion, it was very clear that the most likely one to be holding their leash was, if not one of the high-ranking members, the ringleader themselves.

At the moment, the woman sat in Tristian's dungeon, in their most secure prison. Getting her out would be an impossibility, though he would love nothing more to interrogate her. If she could put him one step closer to the mastermind behind the rebellion, it would be worth it. Of course, his upcoming trip would be much more diplomatic, and while he did have agents, having them blow their cover just simply to extract the woman for information, while that he desperately wanted, she might not have, would be a waste.

Of course, a thief like that was not someone who simply 'got caught' while trying to break into a vault. It smelled of a setup. As if someone wanted her at the capital, without her willingly being there.

"I'm going to have to agree," Charles, his brother, spoke firmly. "And I suspect it's not the Pope this time."

That went without saying. The Pope being a Void Mage had proven to be a considerable snare in his plans, and as far as he could tell, they were the only two Void Mages active. Or, at the very least the only ones the other knew about. He and his brother believed they could stop the coming Windstone crisis that threatened all of Halkginia, without the bloodshed the Pope's plan demanded. The Pope, however, wanted to follow in Brimir's footsteps.

"No. I suspect it's Albion," though, in truth, it was going to be one or the other. Tristian was small and needed as many allies as it could in these trying times. They would not pull off something like this. They needed an alliance with either Gallia or Germania to help them survive the coming storm.

"Yes, that makes sense. And given the importance of this diplomatic meeting, you have no choice but to step into the trap anyway," Charles shared his frown.

"Unfortunately. I do hope it is my paranoia, but I wouldn't have survived as long as I have without it," Joseph shook his head. "Especially given how Isabella will be joining me. I'm concerned for her safety if something does go wrong."

"If you do not feel safe having her come along, perhaps she can stay with my family during your travels. Charlotte and Josette would love to see their cousin again," Charles offered. It would be a smart choice. The safer choice. It would give Isabella time out of the house, desperately needed time. As much as he understood why, staying inside with nothing but her infirm mother was not healthy.

"I promised I would bring her along," King Joseph shook his head. Perhaps it was not a smart thing to promise her, but he knew his daughter well enough. He knew, at the very least, the problems with obsessing over what might not have a solution, no matter how painful such things were. The last time he did so, it had nearly himself and everything he cared about to ruin. "What type of Father would I be if I showed her a ruler went back on their word whenever it was convenient to them?"

It was an excuse, and they both knew it. It would be trivial to send her somewhere else. But Joseph gave his word that he would do his best to raise his daughter. And that meant that if he gave his word, he was going to have to keep it. She was getting older, and it would only be a matter of time before the crown sat atop her head, rather than his. He could not fight a war against the march of time, no matter how much he desired such. But he would leave the world a better place, so she could rule a country that wouldn't need to be bleed dry, or face annihilation.

"Very well. I will see to it that no trouble comes during your time abroad. Hopefully, your trip remains a safe one, and there won't be any complications during the arrangement," Charles smiled slightly. Joseph gave his brother a brief nod in thanks. Once, in years thankfully long since passed, he never would have considered such a thing, back when the two were at each other's throats. Now, he recognized that Gallia was more than safe under his brother's aegis.

Ideally, it wouldn't come to that. Though while he certainly hoped for the best, and that no problems were to manifest on Tristian's soil, he wasn't going to operate off that hope. While Tristian had many knights, guards, and mages, he naturally would have his own, as well as his wit and skill. Fouquet was a concerningly placed piece on the board, that was clear, but he had little clue why she was placed where she was, or why. The rest of the board was shrouded in fog. Though it was likely his opponent was in a similar position, knowing that he was the King of Gallia, little more.

It was not an ideal position, having two opposing forces, stumbling around until they found one another. But it was one that cut both ways, leaving both sides at a mutual disadvantage.

King Joseph had to navigate his pieces as best as he was able. It was not as if he had eyes on the situation as is. Ideally, it would be for nothing. Even more ideal, is that he could use the time to discover who Tristian's Void Mage was. With the three others active, it was unlikely that Tristian's was in play as well.

He had heard word from his agents that the Void Mage in question was Henrietta de Tristian. This was, unfortunately, based on little but speculation. It mostly focused on an abnormal servant girl that Henrietta seemed to have developed a strong bond with, seemingly out of the blue. One that possessed fighting abilities that only manifested themselves when wielding a weapon.

That was the true hint. If it was the case, then the maid would be Gandalfr, the Left Hand of God. Sure, it was not enough to say for certain. It could be possible that the Princess was beginning to recover at last from her disastrous relationship with Prince Wales of Albion. He wasn't entirely sure which it could be. The idea that Tristian's Void Mage had been sitting under the nose of many of his agents for so long was both amusing, in a way, but concerning. If someone else, such as the Pope, had found out about her first, Joseph could have found himself backed into a corner, simply by numbers alone. Two Void Mages were a potent force to face, especially with both the right and left hands working in tandem. If he had his familiar, he might have had a fighting chance when it came to blows, but he had rejected Sheffield ages ago, especially after.

Joseph sighed, the weight of that mistake crashing down on him. He summoned Sheffield to try and save his wife, and it nearly cost him everything, including her. One day, he would love nothing more than bring her to justice, but his former familair had long since fallen off the map, and the last time he tried to summon her back, did not go well.

Hopefully, those still loyal to the crown in Albion were putting up enough resistance to keep the Void Mage's attention on them, rather than on the ongoing events of Tristian. But he was more than prepared for being wrong.

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"Remember. The Founder's Prayerbook and Ruby of Water are your two main objectives, with the Prayerbook taking priority. If you can kill any of the Royals, Tristian, or Gallian, it is a side benefit, little more. A pleasantry, but don't allow it to compromise your primary objective. Otherwise, carry out the operation as you see fit."

"Of course, my Master. Fouquet is already in her assigned position, and will be able to start a diversion so I can recover the book from its home, leaving Tristian and my former master none the wiser," the woman cackled cruelly. "Are you sure that you just don't want me to kill her, though? It would be so much easier!"

"No. I want her to suffer. Knowing that the power she could have used to reshape the world was so easily within her grasp, but is instead in my hands, will only be the beginning of her suffering."

"Of course, my Master. I will make sure your will is done."