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A Cadet Becomes a Prophet?! Chapter 95

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?‍

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