Chapter 95

“…¿Kallinos Armian?”

At least in the Empire—no, in the entire continent—there was no one who didn’t know that name.

The last king of the Armian Kingdom, and at the same time, the founding emperor of the Armian Empire.

The great emperor who defeated King Colomo and the 72 demons.

The great emperor who unified the divided kingdoms and founded the Empire.

Why was his name engraved here?

The answer was obvious.

“As I thought, this place is without a doubt a setup prepared by the First Emperor.”

Fernan carefully lifted the chest.

Unlike the precious Three Great Metals that filled the entire cavern, the chest didn’t seem special at all, dark and dull in tone.

“It’s reinforced blackstone.”

A mineral harder than steel and with high magic resistance. On its surface were engraved the emblem of the Saint bird and several seals.

“Protection and explosion magic?”

It couldn’t be easily broken, and if someone tried to force it open, the entire chest would explode.

Fernan tried to analyze it to deactivate the magic, but the seals were interlaced in such a complex direction that it escaped his understanding.

Even so, that didn’t mean there wasn’t a way to open it. There was one more engraving on the chest.

“A bloodline recognition spell…?”

It was magic that used blood to identify the user.

In other words, anyone could open that chest if they had Aint Armian’s blood.

“Another preparation for his descendants? I’ll open it later.”

He could give it to Aint, but he didn’t see anything wrong with checking the contents first himself.

Forcing it open was completely out of the question.

After all, it had been created by the First Emperor himself. The risk of trying to open it without authorization was too high.

He safely stored the chest in his subspace and began to extract the minerals.

“Haa…”

Not even for the First Emperor did it seem possible to gather mountains of the three metals.

Otherwise, they wouldn’t have been so scarce.

No matter how much he dug into the cavern walls, beyond the superficial layer nothing new appeared.

The same in all directions—no orichalcum, no mithril, no adamantium.

If he gathered every last particle, maybe he could forge the Pasa Bell, but after the smelting process, nothing was guaranteed.

The only thing certain was that Fernan’s plan to get rich by trading the three metals had been ruined.

— Kyu…

At his tense expression, Wooden remained silent.

Several hours passed excavating and inspecting the entire cavern, even gathering the damaged fragments.

‘At least the orichalcum from above was a gain.’

What could have been a benefit of one hundred, was reduced to ten. But not all was lost.

“Wooden, shrink back.”

— Kyuu!

Wooden returned to his small form and went back into Fernan’s pendant. The exploration was over.

***

Fernan didn’t go see Jace right away.

He already knew there was a method and had some of the materials; he didn’t need to keep being the one asking for favors.

This wasn’t just anything—he had mithril, orichalcum, and adamantium.

Although the Pasa Bell was something that absolutely needed to be rebuilt, doing it without gaining anything in return wasn’t a principle of a Pellenberg.

The next day, Fernan took a day off.

He used a transportation circle from the Academy—something he rarely did—and returned to his family’s mansion.

“I didn’t expect you to come back in the middle of the semester.”

“I have something I need to report.”

“Is it urgent?”

“It’s about the Pasa Bell.”

“And why do you care so much about that bell?”

Fernan opened his subspace. Dozens of chests fell before them.

“It’s more than double the amount needed.”

“What…? Don’t tell me…”

The duke opened a chest. His eyes widened at the sight of it filled with minerals. He hurriedly checked the other chests.

“…How did you get all this?”

“Does it really matter?”

“As long as they don’t have a problematic origin, not too much.”

“You already know it’s impossible for them to have a suspicious origin.”

No faction on the continent could possess such a quantity of the Three Great Metals.

“And you found this by reading the earth as always?”

“You think reading the earth is enough to find something like this? It was pure luck.”

The duke stared at him silently. Confused.

Even if all the world’s wealth ended up in Pellenberg’s hands, he had never seen such a quantity gathered together.

“Do you want the Pasa Bell to be rebuilt?”

“The demons destroyed it as soon as they were summoned. That only proves how effective it was. It must be remade.”

“And how much are you asking for?”

The duke instantly caught his intention.

By mentioning the Bell and showing the minerals, Fernan wanted Pellenberg to take the lead—in exchange for fair compensation.

“Paying me market price will be enough.”

“Even so, not even I could cover that entire value.”

Maybe, if he sold off lands and buildings and drained all the commercial guild’s funds—but that would even shake Pellenberg.

Fernan knew. And he didn’t want that either—the Golden Turtle Guild would end up his anyway.

“I’ll let you have it for half the price.”

“What do you want in return?”

“That you negotiate directly with the Pope.”

“So you’ve heard it was the Church of the Dragon God that forged the Pasa Bell.”

That the duke knew was no surprise.

His networks extended across the Empire and continent like an invisible web.

“And what are you planning to do after achieving this?”

“You’ve grown a lot.”

“I believe what I bring to the table justifies my words.”

The duke looked at him with deeper eyes.

“People often make the mistake of thinking that having what someone else wants puts them in control.”

“I trust in a merchant’s conscience—in yours, father.”

“What you trust in is the fact you’re my son.”

That too was true. With someone else, he never would have spoken this way.

“It will be donated to the Church.”

“Yes.”

“You don’t seem surprised.”

“Because it won’t be a purely altruistic donation, right?”

The duke valued money even more than Fernan. He didn’t give anything, even to his own children, without compensation.

“And what would you do afterward?”

“I’d summon the prince-electors for a council.”

The Empire was full of nobles, but those who truly moved its foundations were the prince-electors.

They had been the founders along with the First Emperor, and a thousand years of power had only solidified their dominance.

Most nobles belonged to one of their factions.

“The subject would be the reconstruction of the Pasa Bell, I assume.”

“Yes. And about the origin of the materials…”

“Pellenberg has storehouses over a thousand years old. We’ll say it came from there.”

Fernan’s lips curled into a smile.

“Then others will also have to contribute something.”

“Of course.”

Pellenberg would suffer a huge loss, but the other six electors would cover part of it, whether with money, land, or privileges.

They couldn’t refuse.

The demons had destroyed the Bell—the threat was real and near. An elector who didn’t understand that didn’t deserve the title.

The Bell was necessary.

And with Pellenberg holding the materials, the control was theirs.

“I’m glad we think alike.”

“Is that all you want?”

“No. One more thing—I’d like to use the family’s workshop.”

“Planning to rebuild that golem…?”

“Not to that level. Just maybe craft some weapons for him.”

“Talk to the masters.”

“Thank you. And one more thing.”

The duke’s brow furrowed.

“The word of a merchant must be trustworthy.”

“This is different. I haven’t yet received the information about the Corrupt that we agreed to share.”

Fernan had handed over records on Andromalius and other Corrupt, and the duke had begun investigating infiltrators within the family and across the continent.

“I was just about to send it to you. Expect it at the Academy.”

“Understood.”

“Store those chests in the warehouse.”

“Yes.”

Fernan bowed and withdrew.

The duke wrote six letters, stamped them, and called the butler.

“Send them to the prince-electors.”

“Yes.”

The duke paused and wrote one more.

“And to the Bercheff as well.”

“Understood.”

“What about the report on the Golden Pillar?”

“It will be ready in two days.”

“Bring it to me as soon as it’s done.”

“Yes.”

The duke drummed his fingers on the desk.

No matter how hard he thought, he couldn’t find an explanation.

“Where in the world did he get so much…?”

Even the amount used to create the golem was already excessive.

Once could pass as luck. Twice? Never.

He knew Fernan was hiding something.

“It won’t harm Pellenberg, but…”

He couldn’t ignore it either.

“Investigate Fernan’s movements in detail.”

“As you wish.”

The butler withdrew.

“It’s best to keep this secret.”

With or without the Bell of Pasa, the change would be massive.

And it would be worse if the demons discovered the truth.

“At least none of the electors is Corrupt…”

It was only a supposition, but the duke believed it firmly.

Someone that incompetent could never have become a prince-elector.

***

In the end, his father hadn’t lied.

Fernan reviewed the thick report that awaited him on the desk of his room upon his return.

“So far, including the Golden Turtle Guild, we’ve found twelve infected within the family, and fifty-five people directly or indirectly involved.”

It was no small matter. The only positive thing was that they had been caught before it was too late, but there was no way to know if that was the complete list.

“The rest…”

The report shifted focus to the Corrupt outside the family.

Several noble houses, trade guilds, and groups were under suspicion, and among them, one stood out above the rest.

“…Wait a moment, Fridian?”

Were there Corrupt in Fridian?

It was just a suspicion, of course, but the mere fact that the name of a prince-elector family appeared there was already grounds for controversy.

Fernan read quickly.

[– Adolph Fridian]

Direct line of House Fridian. Nephew of the current patriarch.

Elf. 29 years old.

Subcommander of the Guardian Tree Knights.

Unlike most elves, he is a strict vegetarian who never eats meat.

…

Lately, his ability has increased drastically, enough to snatch the subcommander position.

Impossible to verify the number of elixirs in House Fridian’s possession, or their exact use.

It’s not ruled out that he’s reached “enlightenment.”

But given the speed of his rise, he cannot be ruled out as Corrupt. Catalogued as suspicious.

“…Wow.”

Fernan let out a sigh of relief.

For a moment, he had thought a direct member of the Fridian family was truly Corrupt.

If that were the case, the reach and depth of the corruption would be immeasurable.

“A vegetarian elf… quite rare.”

[– Roderick Fisher]

Secondary branch of the Fisher family. Distant relative of the patriarch (13th degree).
Human. 33 years old.

Left the family in childhood and became a mercenary.

After wandering from group to group, he gained renown and joined the Blue Wolf Mercenaries…

Fernan flipped through the pages, understanding why the report was so thick.

“They included all the suspicious nobles.”

It was inevitable.

Within the family, they could be forced to undergo Church inspection artifacts, but no matter how high-ranking the prince-electors were, the same couldn’t be imposed on other noble houses.

So the only option was to include anyone who raised doubts.

He read the entire report at speed. When he looked up, night had fully fallen.

“…I’d better sleep.”

Fatigue was taking over. He got ready and lay on the bed.

Knock, knock—

At that moment, someone knocked on the door.

According to Ravidus Hall rules, students couldn’t visit another student’s room.

If someone knocked, it could only be a maid, a student with enough money and power to bypass the rule like himself, or an authorized servant.

And in this case—

“Young master, it’s me. Are you already resting?”

It was the last one—a servant.

“Come in.”

The door opened. Hyde, dressed for infiltration, entered silently.

“I heard you went to the main house.”

“I had to discuss something with my father. I’ll tell you later. First, tell me your part—you seem to have something in mind.”

“Yes, I do.”

Really? Fernan raised an eyebrow.

“What is it about?”

“About the elixirs Gisamond Ert is hiding.”

“…More elixirs?”

Who the hell was that man, really?