Chapter 143

Chapter 143: The Crown Prince’s Intentions

An Imperial Direct unit adorned in gold and silver. Unlike the knight who arrived previously, there were no owl feathers on his helmet, and the entire detachment numbered 300, including soldiers. It signified that he came backed by an authority far surpassing that of a simple messenger.

“I pay my respects to the Consort of the Great Fire! Direct Imperial Knight, Swift Knight Gogen, greets you.”

“What purpose brings you here?” Ferda openly expressed his displeasure.

“None other than to deliver the message of the Crown Prince. May I use the platform?”

“The festival is in full swing, so if it is bad news, I would prefer to hear it later.”

“There is no need to worry. It is not news that would ruin this festival.”

It would be strange to suddenly drop bad news following their delayed response. Ferda broke the staring contest and granted him the platform. Standing before the bewildered nobles, the knight shouted aloud:

“You all came to enjoy the Spring Festival, yet an unfortunate incident, an unexpected event, took place! In response to this matter, every one of you stepped forward without hesitation!”

Hearing those words, quite a few nobles cast glances of distaste. Everyone was already aware that Alexander had delayed his response.

“That dedication contributed not only to the Far East, but also to the defense of the Empire; thus, we hold your merits in the highest regard. Therefore, I, Alexander Arken, as the Imperial Representative, intend to formally invite you all to the Imperial Palace to hold a banquet!”

Eyes widened in shock—a reaction even more startled than when they first heard the Far East was under siege.

“A banquet in the Empire…”

“Isn’t that the pinnacle of splendor?”

Any young noble harbored the Imperial Dream, and presented with such an opportunity, their eyes grew wide. Who would refuse being entertained in the Far East only to be lavishly hosted once more elsewhere?

‘So there was a reason they rushed here with such urgency.’

Their goal was to hijack the festival. As proof, the scheduled two-day festival shifted on its second day from drinking and dining to excess toward a day of sobriety and self-reflection. Naturally, Ferda cared little. This festival was never planned in the first place, and Ferda was not one to enjoy entertaining guests. His preference was simply for them to depart.

However, it did not seem as though they had ridden in such a hurry solely for that. What Olivia had mentioned the previous day still echoed in Ferda’s mind.

“Regent, I have a matter to discuss with Marquis Vernel…”

As expected.

“Would you permit a meeting?”

“The Chief Researcher is occupied at the moment.”

“It is a matter I must convey to him directly.”

Faced with the knight’s persistence, Ferda frowned, answering as if thoroughly weary of the transparent scheme.

“Do not make me repeat myself. Vernel is currently leading a crucial project that directly impacts the territory’s development.”

“There is a need to inform Marquis Vernel directly. As a subject, he holds the right to receive an audience regarding the Crown Prince’s decree, and that is something not even Regent Ferda may obstruct.”

The captain’s gaze was sharp. Should Ferda block him further, it seemed he was prepared to charge Ferda with the crime of insulting the Imperial House.

“I yield.”

“Thank you.”

“However, I ask for a promise. No matter what occurs, do not seek to assign blame.”

“There is no need to worry. What grave blame could arise from merely delivering a message?”

“If you keep to that, I will be grateful.”

Ferda willingly led the way to Vernel’s laboratory. When he knocked on the door, Vernel emerged slowly. As the morning sunlight filtered into the space, which resembled a darkroom, he grimaced. One might assume he had been asleep until now, but the dark circles beneath his eyes confirmed he had spent consecutive nights awake.

“Uh… what brings you here?”

“These individuals stated they wish to see you. Could you spare them a moment?”

“Does it have to be right now? I am a bit…”

“Pardon the intrusion on your time. Just five minutes, please.”

“Tsk… very well.”

Vernel shuffled out with an openly reluctant expression. The Imperial Knight, observing his demeanor, flashed a peculiar smile. Clearing his throat, he unfurled a document.

“Marquis Vernel! By decree of the Imperial Representative and Imperial Proxy of the Arken Empire, Alexander Arken! You have rendered exceptional merit in the technical field during this war, and we wish to bestow upon you a medal and the title of Count. Therefore, would you be so gracious as to board the Imperial Carriage and accompany us to the Empire?”

It was quite the spectacle. While phrased as a grand recognition of merit, the underlying intention was obvious: an attempt to claim the sole technician in the Far East capable of understanding magitech.

Ferda wished to refute it on the spot, but Vernel proved faster.

“Uh… so you are telling me to attend?” he asked with bleary eyes.

Whether the response differed from his expectations or not, the captain showed a hint of nervousness before proceeding.

“That is correct. Come with me and—”

“Th-that… I apologize, but may I decline to go?”

“Wh-what?”

These were individuals who had never even factored the word “refusal” into their assumptions. Vernel scratched his head with an exhausted expression.

“Do you intend to reject the favor of the one who will become the Imperial Representative and Emperor?”

“It is an extremely busy time… there is no time to idle about. And to my knowledge, I am not required to attend unless it is an explicit order from His Majesty the Emperor…”

“He will become the Crown Prince, so such insolent behavior—”

“He ‘will become,’ meaning he is not yet, correct? Right now I am occupied with work and need to use my head.” Vernel muttered like a man utterly drained and listless. “If I relocate elsewhere, I will inevitably forget everything, and worries will pile up unnecessarily… when worries accumulate, I cannot carry out my work either… ugh.”

Vernel vigorously scratched his head against the irritation prickling his mind. After another heavy sigh, he looked toward the Imperial Knight.

The captain asked with a stunned expression, “Will you truly refuse an audience over such a trivial matter?”

“Uh… y-yes? To the people of the Empire, it may be a trivial matter. A medal or a title is nice, but to me, they are unnecessary… I simply wish to do what I can do. That is my reason. I will not attend.”

Driving that point home, he turned to Ferda and nodded.

“I apologize, Regent. My thoughts are completely stuck right now, so I barely know what I am saying.”

“Not at all. It is my fault for calling you out at such a time.”

“At any rate, I am leaving. Excuse me.”

Muttering under his breath, he shut the door without another word.

The captain had heard and witnessed it directly, yet remained in disbelief. When others heard the words “Imperial Knight,” they stood at attention, and upon being praised for their merits, they overflowed with tears of gratitude. Vernel’s attitude went beyond mere insolence, reaching a level that left him entirely speechless.

Ferda decided to settle matters while the opportunity stood.

“You stated that no blame would be assigned, so I would appreciate it if there were no further useless talk.”

The following day, the young ladies and lords shook off their hangovers and dressed neatly in fine attire, fitting for nobility. All emerged from the castle with eager expressions. The Empire had formally recognized them. The young heirs were acknowledged for merely participating in the battle, while staff officers and knights who had stepped forward were promised individual medals.

Those officially recognized for their merits at Valdrova Castle were four:
Chief Technician, Marquis Vernel;
Administrator of Hestia, Isabella Iorga;
Security Captain William, who established the tactical foundation of the Tactical Infantry;
And Regent Ferda.

This was because Isabella, as a 5th Circle mage, played a decisive role in subduing the Colossal Monster. Similarly, Echidna had played an active role, yet they revealed her name was excluded because, as a witch, she could not be brought to the imperial grounds. Regardless, Ferda had no intention of sending her. She was a person who had come to this castle solely to see Jed; should she enter the Imperial Palace, there was no telling what manner of coercion she might face.

Vernel had already refused, removing any need to ask. Isabella harbored no high expectations for the Imperial Palace and declared she would focus solely on her administrative duties, declining the invitation. Ferda likewise politely declined participation on the same grounds.

In the end, only William departed for the Imperial Palace.

“Is it truly acceptable for me to go?”

William was an exceptional asset even setting aside this merit. He had served as a leader under Duke Urey, possessing charisma and the refined qualities of a knight—though he had ultimately betrayed his former master.

“If not even you attend, they will claim you are no different from a traitor.”

“That is true. I have no choice but to shoulder that responsibility…”

Something in his expression lacked conviction. Ferda made no attempt to persuade him, leaving him with only a parting remark.

“Follow whatever your heart dictates.”

Hesitating, William finally resolved to head to the Empire as the representative of Hestia Village.

Dawn broke, and the Imperial vanguard took the lead in preparation for departure. Before they set out in earnest, Ferda met with a certain individual.

“Princess.”

Olivia Arken. The unadorned expression of her warrior days had shifted back to the splendid visage of an Imperial princess.

“Did you call for me because you wished to see me?”

She smiled with her eyes, tossing out a remark easily misinterpreted—something possible only because no one else was near.

“Do you truly believe you can step into political circles through this?”

He understood the nature of the Empire. For that reason, even with this achievement, he did not believe political entry would be permitted to her.

“Do not worry.”

Olivia smiled faintly. That smile no longer carried the same confidence as before; she, too, seemed to sense an impending setback.

Ferda handed an item over to Olivia.

“What is this?”

“Data that the Administrator personally evaluated regarding operational merits, drawn from the records of personnel deployed in this campaign.”

In reality, Mori had compiled it. Because it was calculated purely on objective metrics, the margin of error was narrower than what most experts could produce.

Olivia’s individual contribution stood at an astounding 45 percent. It was fair to say she had handled virtually everything. There was even an addendum stating that, had the development of the Far East been factored in, her share would have easily exceeded half.

She displayed a slightly startled expression at the unexpected gesture. Staring intently at Ferda’s face, she then smiled softly.

“Please convey my thanks to the Administrator.”

It was neither the practiced smile of a courtier nor the exclusive smile she showed only to him. Before he could decipher its meaning, she boarded the carriage.

Contrary to expectations of a grueling overland journey, the Imperial Court Mages had prepared a large magic circle in the clearing. Though situated at a distance, Ferda recognized the massive array drawn upon the open ground: a Teleportation Gate.

It was a spell connecting two spatial points, an array linked directly to the Empire’s Triumphal Arch. The larger the scale and duration, the more mana it drained, but as with any state spectacle, efficiency was relegated to a secondary concern.

Thus, a massive gateway opened smoothly, revealing the vibrant, crowded boulevards of the Empire beyond. Citizens lined the streets with erupting cheers, peering through the boundary. The young ladies and knights could not conceal their exhilaration, looking as though they were stepping into legendary tales like returning triumphant generals. They marched forward in line, clinging to youthful ambition and vigor.

As if winter had abruptly descended, the bustling settlement of Hestia instantly sank into stillness. In contrast to the quieted town, what brushed against the skin was the warm spring sunlight. Ferda absently enjoyed the radiant warmth. As the tension dissipated and lethargy settled in, he closed his eyes, contemplating a brief rest.

Then, Ruri’s voice pierced his ears.

“Master has stepped out for monster subjugation.”

Ferda’s eyes snapped open and he stood up. No matter the circumstance, he could not ignore a battle.

Monsters lingered, ready to cross the boundary at any moment. Among them, several boldly approached, and Valdrova moved instantly to strike them down. Vile remnants of flesh scattered across the blackened earth. Amidst it all, pure, brilliant crimson scales tore through the adversaries with precision.

It had been a month-long standoff. During that time, emotions had surely accumulated, leaving the body restless. Venting such built-up energy was no ordinary affair.

Ferda took a seat. It was an established routine for Ruri to set up a tea table whenever Valdrova engaged in battle.

“Would you care for a cup?”

“I accept.”

Tempering the mountain chill with black tea, he observed the figure in the distance. As always, it concluded in Valdrova’s overwhelming victory. Ferda’s own body warmed from the lingering heat of the battlefield.

‘She will return to the lair now.’

According to the routine, that was the expected course. Lingering over the desire to watch her a moment longer, Ferda began to rise.

Yet this time was different. Instead of spreading her wings to return toward the lair, was she looking up at the towering Lonely Mountain?

There was no mistake. Valdrova was gazing directly at Ferda.

‘Why?’

Barely had that question formed when her wings beat against the air. Her destination was not the lair, but a higher elevation: the very peak of the Lonely Mountain, straight toward where Ferda stood.