A Cadet Becomes a Prophet?! — Chapter 234

Chapter 234

‘The‌‌‌ royal family’s secret‌‍ treasure…’

It wasn’t all that⁠ unusual. Among nobles⁠ and the wealthy,⁠⁠‌ setting up emergency‍‌ stashes “just in case” wasn’t rare.‍

The‍⁠ Pellenberg family itself had several secret‌‌ vaults—not just across⁠ the Empire, but⁠ also in other‍⁠ kingdoms.

That’s‍⁠ why Fernan’s greed⁠⁠ only grew.

The‌‌ Kingdom of Linelt‌ was by no‍⁠ means a weak⁠ country. Just thinking⁠ about how much‌⁠ gold and wealth⁠ their secret treasure‌ might hold was‍ a delight.

‘It’s⁠⁠‌ mine. All of‌ it.’

And‌‌‌ if, in exchange,‍‍ he saved a kingdom that should‌‍‍ already be destroyed,⁠ it wouldn’t be‍‍‍ a loss for‌ the princess either.‍

In⁠ the end, it⁠ was mutually beneficial.‌

“So⁠ you’re saying there‍ are cultists hiding⁠ in the Kingdom‌⁠‌ of Linelt?”

“I‌ believe Your Highness‍⁠‌ knows that better⁠⁠ than I do.”‌

The‍ prophecy book mentioned‍‍ it. By now,⁠⁠ Princess Yuli was already aware that cultists were rotting‌ the kingdom from‌⁠ within.

And‌‍ yet, she didn’t⁠⁠ dare expose them‍ publicly; she must‌ have her reasons.⁠‍‍

“……”⁠

Just as expected, she‌ didn’t deny it;⁠‌ she merely bit‌ her lip hard.‍‌

“How⁠ do you know?‌⁠ Do you have⁠ spies in the⁠‌ kingdom…?”

“I‍‍ was there when Kimaris descended and attacked Bercheff. I was also there‌ when Andrealphus appeared⁠‍ at the Academy. Do you think⁠⁠⁠ all that was⁠ just coincidence?”

“Of‌⁠‍ course not.”

The Andrealphus incident could be considered “natural”‌‍ since it happened‍ at the Academy.‌ But Kimaris was‍⁠ different.

“What‌‍ is it you’re‌⁠ really after?”

“I already told you—to‌⁠ eliminate the cultists⁠‌ infiltrating the Kingdom⁠‍ of Linelt.”

“No.‌⁠⁠ I mean what you want to⁠ gain from it.”‌‌‍

At‌‍ her words, Fernan‍‌ smiled without hesitation.‌‍‌

“I⁠‍ followed the cultists’‌‍ trail here. What⁠‌ else would a Pellenberg want?”

He‌‍ joined his thumb‍ and index finger‌ into a circle.‌

“At‍ least you’re honest.”⁠

“It’s my greatest virtue.”⁠⁠‌

“Then,‌ what were you doing with Viscount‍ Kyren?”

“I‌⁠ was merely trying‌‌ to extract some‍‌ information.”

“Information?”

“About‌ the cultists, let’s⁠‍ say.”

But Yuli’s distrustful gaze‍‍⁠ didn’t ease.

Perhaps‍ she thought Fernan‍⁠ might be in⁠⁠‍ league with the‍‌ second prince to‌ set her up.‍‍‍ Truthfully, the timing⁠ was just too‍⁠ perfect.

Fernan‌ slowly turned the‍⁠ wineglass under the‍ moonlight.

“I‍ understand it’s still⁠ hard for you‍⁠ to trust me.‍‍‍ But soon, I’ll⁠‍ prove my innocence,‍‌⁠ and we’ll be able to build‌ mutual trust.”

“Soon?”‌

“I‍ won’t spoil it.‌⁠ Gifts are best⁠‍ when unexpected.”

“Very‌⁠ well.”

She nodded.

In‌⁠ the end, Yuli‍ Linelt had no⁠⁠ choice but to‌‌ accept. She knew the kingdom was⁠⁠ rotting from within.‍⁠

“If‌ what you show‍ me is enough⁠⁠ to earn my‌⁠ trust, I’ll believe you—and do everything I can to‍ cooperate. If I want to meet⁠‍ you, where should‍‍‍ I go?”

“That⁠ won’t be necessary.‍ I’ll come find‌⁠‌ you.”

“I’ll⁠⁠ keep today a secret.”

“I⁠‍ appreciate it.”

Fernan‍ bowed his head.⁠⁠‌ The princess gave‌‌ him one last‍ unsatisfied look before‌⁠ leaving the terrace.‌

Hyde‍⁠⁠ asked:

“What‍ happened earlier… Did⁠ you see a prophecy?”

“Yes.”‍

A smile formed on‌‌ Fernan’s face. It‌‌ had been a fruitful harvest—not only‍‍ did he know‍‍ what he would⁠ gain from saving⁠⁠ the Kingdom of‍‌⁠ Linelt, but above⁠ all:

“Patrick‍‌ Pirandello, Count of⁠‌ Pirandello.”

“That’s‌‍ the cultist.”

“I⁠⁠ want everything—how he‍ lives, who he‍⁠ meets with, how‌ much money he has, what his⁠ lands and businesses⁠ are like—even what⁠‌ color underwear he‌⁠ wears.”

“That⁠⁠⁠ last one might‌‌ make the Black‍ Turtles uncomfortable, but‌ yes, I’ll follow‍ the order.”

Hyde‍‍‍ bowed his head.‌ However, they couldn’t‍ leave the terrace⁠⁠‌ just yet.

“Hurry,‍ Lycaon.”

“Why⁠⁠‌ did you take‌ off the dye‍ right here, without even leaving the⁠‍ banquet yet?”

“How‌‌ was I supposed‌ to win her‍ trust without showing‌ my real face?‍ It was a necessary investment.”

“If‌ only you didn’t‍‌ talk so much…”

“Is‌‍ it time for‍‌ your salary review⁠ already?”

“Next⁠‍ year.”

“Then⁠ complain next year.”‍⁠⁠

They‍⁠ returned to the‌‍ banquet hall ten⁠‍ minutes later.

***‍

The‌ next morning, Fernan skimmed through the‌‌ newspapers, but none‍‍ of them mentioned the Mercenary King’s⁠‍‌ visit to the‌⁠‌ palace.

That⁠ meant Gerlan Linelt‍⁠‌ was exercising strict control over the‍ information.

Or‌‍⁠ at least, that’s⁠ what Fernan thought.‌⁠

[Gerlan Linelt reached out⁠ to me again.‌

He‌ accepts my proposal,⁠ but admits there are certain aspects‍ that trouble him.⁠‌⁠

He‍‍ only asked that‍ my presence not⁠⁠⁠ be made public—if‌ it became known‍‌‌ that the royal‌⁠ family was delegating‍‍ to outsiders, their‌⁠‍ prestige would be‍‍ stained…]

That‍ same day, through‍‍ the Black Turtle⁠⁠ network, a letter⁠ arrived from the⁠ Mercenary King.

Even‌ though everything appeared⁠ quiet, the royal⁠‌‌ palace was actually‌ boiling with activity.‍‍

The⁠ second prince, Gerlan⁠ Linelt, had secretly‌‌ contacted the Mercenary King, hiding it‍‍‍ from external eyes.‌‌

Very‌⁠ few people knew.⁠

The‌ important question was‍⁠ whether Patrick Pirandello‌‍ was among them.

“Where⁠⁠ is Count Pirandello‌‍ now?”

“In‌⁠ the capital. As‍ the regent’s chief⁠ advisor, he holds⁠‍ considerable power.”

As⁠⁠ expected. Otherwise, he⁠‌‌ couldn’t possibly prepare⁠‍ a large-scale demon‍ summoning ritual right‍⁠ from the capital.

Fernan⁠‍⁠ opened the report.‍

[Patrick⁠⁠ Pirandello, Count.

Lord⁠ of the County⁠ of Pirandello.

35‍‍ years old.

Dark‍ blue hair and‌‌ black eyes.

1.85 meters tall, sturdy‍‌ build.

One⁠‍ of the top⁠⁠ ten mages in‌ the Kingdom of⁠ Linelt.

It⁠‌ was said that‍‍ in his youth,‍‍‌ he wasn’t particularly⁠‌‍ talented, but ten⁠⁠ years ago he‌‌ fell from a horse.

Since then, his magical‍⁠ ability has grown‍⁠ at an impressive‌⁠ rate.

(…)⁠‌

Attractive,‍‌ powerful, and influential,‍‍ he was popular⁠ in high society.‍‍

He‍‌ owned six mansions⁠ in the capital‍⁠ and had the⁠ extravagant habit of⁠‍ moving into a different one each‌‍ day.]

“He‌ changes mansions daily?”‍

“Yes.⁠‌‍ Here’s the map.”⁠⁠

Fernan‌ unfolded a map⁠ of the capital,‌⁠ where all six⁠ mansions were marked‌‍ in detail.

He⁠‍ instinctively connected the⁠ dots.

“…A⁠ six-pointed star.”

A symbol associated with‌ demons.

And‍ at the exact⁠ center— the royal‍‌ palace.

Fernan⁠⁠ let out a bitter laugh.

Wasn’t‍ it a bit‌‌ too obvious? But⁠ then again, the‍ strange thing was‍‌ him—without the prophecy‍ book, he never‍‍‍ would have suspected‍ that Patrick Pirandello⁠‍‌ was a cultist‍‍ or that he was preparing a ritual.

Anyone‍ else would’ve just‍ thought he was⁠ an eccentric rich⁠⁠‍ man with too⁠⁠ many houses.

“What⁠ now, young master?”⁠‍

“What‌‍‍ else? If someone⁠ goes through that⁠‍ much effort to⁠‍⁠ tell us they’re‌ hiding something, it‌‍‌ would be rude‌ to ignore it.”‌‌⁠

The‌ report even detailed which mansion he‍ stayed in each day of the‍‌‍ week, the guards,‍‌⁠ and the layout⁠ of each building.‌‌‍

“Wooden.”

Fernan⁠ awoke the golem‍‌ resting in his⁠ necklace.

“It’s‌‌ your turn.”

An‌ almost undetectable spy.⁠‌⁠

— Kyuu!

That‌ was Wooden.

***‌⁠

A clear midday, not‍‌ a single cloud⁠ in the sky.⁠

Wooden‌ stepped onto the‍ road with determination.‍‍⁠

— Kyu, kyu.

It had been a while since he’d‌ moved on his⁠ own, and he‍ was in a good mood. Returning⁠‌‍ to his original‌⁠ form to fight⁠⁠‍ monsters was fun,‌‌ but from time⁠⁠ to time, he‌ also enjoyed this⁠‍‌ kind of tension—moving‍ around without being⁠‌ detected.

You‍ could say they‌‌⁠ were different kinds‍ of pleasure.

The‌ last few years‍ had been better‌ than the hundreds‌‌ he’d spent just⁠‌ wandering aimlessly. Wooden‍ didn’t deny that choosing this body‍ had been the‌ best decision of‌⁠ his life.

“Go,‌⁠ Wooden. That mansion‌ over there.”

That‌ one?

Through⁠‌⁠ the window of⁠ the slowly moving‌ carriage, an enormous‌ mansion could be‍ seen. Fernan pointed‌‌⁠ in that direction.‍

“Yes.⁠‌‌ Find traces of⁠ corrupted magic there. You can do‍⁠ that, right?”

— Kyu! Kyu!

The‌⁠ thing he did‌ best.

For‍ Wooden, who contained‍ the purest form‍ of mana, detecting‍‌ corrupted magic was‌ easy.

To‌ him, that kind‌‌ of magic was‌ like a black‌‍⁠ dot on a white sheet.

“That’s‍ it. But don’t‍ let anyone discover⁠‌ you. If necessary,‍⁠ turn into stone.”‌

— Kyu, kyu.

Fun.‍⁠ That’s fun.

“I’m‍ glad you’re enjoying⁠‍ this.”

— Kyu.

Stop⁠‍ talking. It hurts.⁠

“All‍ right, I’ll try not to think‌‌ too much while‍ we’re connected.”

Go‌ on, enter.

Click.⁠‍ Fernan cracked the carriage window open. Wooden dodged glances⁠ and leapt onto‌‌ the mansion wall.‍‌

He‌ was just 3 cm tall—the smallest‌⁠⁠ form he could‍ take.

Tap,‌ he landed softly‍ and slipped into‍‌ the garden, hiding among loose stones.⁠‌

— Kyu!

Perfect.⁠‍

He⁠ slowly extended his‌‌ roots. Soon, he‍‍ began to sense⁠⁠⁠ the presences around‍ him.

— Kyu, kyu.

Inside‍⁠‍ the mansion! 51‍‍ people!

Perhaps‌‌ because of the⁠ mansion’s size, even‍ without the master‌ present, there were⁠ quite a few⁠‌‍ people.

‘More‌‌ than I expected. Anything unusual?’

— Kyu?

Unusual?‌‍

‘Yes,‌‌ for example, a space where detection‌‍ doesn’t work properly.’‌‌‌

Corrupted‍‍‍ magic, no matter⁠ how faint, was‌⁠⁠ so unnatural that,⁠ unless artificially hidden,‍‌ it would always‌⁠‌ be discovered.

‘If⁠ they’ve prepared something‌⁠‍ in the mansion,‌‍ it’s definitely a device to conceal‍⁠⁠ magic.’

— Kyu!

Yes!‍ In the basement!‍‌

‘Then‍‌ that’s your target,‌ Wooden. Go there‍‍‍ first.’

Wooden‍ nodded slightly.

With‌‍⁠ the objective defined,‌ it was time‍⁠ to move. He‌‌ took advantage of⁠⁠ a moment when‍ the gardener got‌‍ distracted by a bird in a tree and dashed‍‌ forward.

He‌‌ was just about⁠ to leap into‍⁠ the mansion when⁠ he suddenly stopped.‍ He curled up⁠ and rolled across⁠ the ground.

He⁠‌ had bumped into‍ a maid carrying a large load‍ of laundry. He‍‌ bounced in the⁠‍ opposite direction.

“Ow! A rock?”

Wooden’s‌ perfectly rounded body⁠‌ made it impossible⁠‌ to distinguish him‍‍ from a common‍‌ pebble at first⁠ glance.

The‌‍ maid began to‍‌ hang the clothes⁠ in the yard.

Wooden‌ got up again,‌ still a bit⁠ shaken by the⁠ impact.

— Kyu, kyu.

Fools,⁠⁠‌ humans.

He was proud of⁠ his perfect camouflage,‌⁠ but at the‌ same time irritated‍ that these humans‌‌ couldn’t recognize his⁠‌ grand, glorious self.‌⁠

It‍ was confusing, but the truth was‍‍ he had lost ground in his⁠‍ advance.

— Kyu.

Remember.‍ You.

Wooden‌ looked at the⁠ maid’s face again⁠‌ and dashed off‌ once more.

This‍ time there were‍ no obstacles. Perhaps‌ that earlier stumble‌‌ had been a step back to‌‍ take two steps forward. Even the‌ door was slightly⁠ ajar—how fortunate.

At‌‍ that moment—

“Huh?⁠ Who left the‍ door…?”

Another maid was closing‌ the door. The‌ opening narrowed rapidly.⁠‍⁠ Wooden pushed himself⁠ to the limit.‍

— Kyu!

No!‌‍

He dove in headfirst,‌‌ sliding like a plank, slipping through‍‍‌ the gap just⁠‍ before the door⁠‍‍ shut.

— Kyu!

Success!‌⁠

But‌ the joy was‍ short-lived. Aware of‌‌‌ the maid nearby,‍ Wooden curled into‍ a ball again,‍‌ disguising himself.

Now‌ he was nothing‍‍ more than a rock.

“What’s‌‍ this? Who threw‌ a stone here?”‌‍‍

The⁠ maid picked him up and tossed‌‍‌ him outside.