Chapter 178

Chapter 178
Chapter 178
## Chapter 178: The Player (2)

“Even the Sword of the Empire, Lord Melberot, shows vulnerability with the passage of the years when it comes to his offspring. It must have been a torment for him to keep his only daughter confined in that tower for so long, hasn’t it?”

With the change of seasons, the high central aristocracy congregates in the vast deliberation hall of Gremfort Palace, in the capital city, to address state affairs.

Although these sessions were reserved mostly for the high-lineage nobles of the center, Melberot, a territorial lord of the northern lands, participated in them from time to time. His position as the greatest exponent of imperial military might, added to the fact that his responsibilities were less stifling than those of the nobles in richer lands, allowed him to afford these stays.

For the crown, the constant attendance of the Sword of the Empire at Gremfort Palace held vital symbolic weight: it was the perennial reminder that Melberot, whose strength was unreachable even for common sorcerers, remained the bastion of the empire. For this reason, the imperial lineage always celebrated his arrival in Gremfort with enthusiasm.

Except for one person.

“…Princess Roselyn preserves her sharp tongue to this day.”

“Hehe, just like Lord Melberot. You were already an older man when I was just studying numbers, and yet, you seem to have defeated time without a single mark on your face; it’s almost supernatural.”

“Your compliments are excessive.”

Melberot made a gesture with his hand, indicating to the subordinates surrounding him that they should withdraw. The officials immediately moved away at the instruction. The aristocrats who had left the meeting along with Melberot also dispersed with discomfort under the princess’s scrutiny.

In a Gremfort Palace saturated with bureaucrats aligned with the noble faction, Princess Roselyn, the face of the imperial faction, stood as an irritating presence to them. However, she received their gestures of rejection with serenity, placed her hands on her waist, and let out a laugh devoid of joy.

“They flee without daring to meet my gaze, like terrified rats. They would do well to feel shame for their own corruption.”

“They can hear what you are saying.”

“That was precisely my intention. What’s wrong? Do you also fear those greedy pigs, Lord Melberot? A warrior capable of demolishing this precinct with a single movement?”

The word that best describes Princess Roselyn is “dissonance.” In her, nothing seems to fit harmoniously. Despite her youth —for she had barely crossed the threshold of her maturity rite—, her way of speaking evoked someone with a century of life. She used to employ ancient idioms and concepts from another era, as if her spirit were already fatigued.

Although she was Emperor Gertrel’s favorite daughter, the nobles spoke of her with disdain in the hallways. Her clashes with the court administrators were constant due to differences in management. No official of the empire felt relaxed around her.

Melberot shared that sentiment. He knew that the smartest thing was to keep his distance from such disturbing personalities, but Roselyn seemed determined not to give him space.

“Derek Raidof of Ravenclaw, Baron.”

“The subject you personally endorsed for the position, is that correct? His name was mentioned repeatedly in the council session.”

It made me curious that the usually apathetic Lord Melberot selected him on his own. She toyed with a lock of her hair while sketching a carefree smile. Her hair showed a mixture of jet-black and scarlet; the intertwined tones seemed to reflect her split personality. Terrifying or perhaps ruthless; that is how the noble bureaucrats described her. And Princess Roselyn never bothered to refute such judgments. The reasons behind this remain hidden.

“You have kept an instructor for your daughter up your sleeve as if it were a key piece in a gamble. What is the reason for this sudden sentimentality, Lord Melberot?”

“I simply require capable people to oversee the vineyards on the periphery.”

“I have received dozens of inquiries about the Ravenclaw Academy. Do you really think I will accept that explanation? I never imagined you with hidden interests.”

Roselyn narrowed her reddish pupils, holding her face with one hand while speaking slowly.

“It’s curious. I feel aversion for those ambitious officials, but I like you precisely because you don’t seem to covet political power. With all your potential, you maintain your modesty. But now you use nobles from the confines to found an institution? It’s not the behavior I expected from the Melberot I know. It’s… suspicious.”

Although Roselyn’s attire was ostentatious, its brilliance was overshadowed by the aura of command she projected. She preferred the functional and the logical, maintaining that the worth of an individual does not emanate from an empty office, but from their talent and vision. For this reason, there is something about the empire that she deeply detests.

Have you also joined those fools? Do you think that a little aptitude for magic defines what a person is worth? I believed that you, someone who has scaled the peaks of magic, would have a higher criterion.

“I have not come to this palace to get tangled in such debates.”

<>

Mastering magic has nothing wrong with it; it is a skill like any other. Warriors use steel, merchants handle gold, master craftsmen use metal, and peasants work the land. Sorcerers delve into their art to be of use to the world and carve out a destiny, nothing more. Magic is just a component of the empire’s fabric; it does not grant a natural superiority or a nobler blood. Roselyn’s frictions with imperial officials are born from these immovable convictions.

Do you intend to say that this is an individual project? Of Baron Ravenclaw? That you just looked the other way?

“Would you give me credit if I confirmed it?”

“Haha. Of course not. Melberot of the Rocheste lineage consenting to such a level of freedom? Not even the gluttons who just left the room would swallow that.”

No one should make the mistake of seeing Melberot of the North as a soft or detached man. He has banished multiple servants who challenged the rules to the most arid corners of the north. His subordinates did not feel affection, but a deep dread toward him. Fear is a fundamental pillar in his way of commanding.

However, Roselyn faced him without hesitation. Her fortitude in front of one of the most powerful mages in history had a motive: her internal condition was something that caused dread even to the greatest sorcerers.

“At least I thought you were different from those pigs drunk on privileges who believe they are superior just by casting spells.”

<>

Melberot did not reply. He knew well where she wanted to go. Roselyn tempted him with sharp words looking for a reaction, but he did not take the bait. The princess also understood that Melberot would not fall for such a basic trick. He simply closed his eyes and stated with severity:

“Perhaps it is so. But Derek had his reasons for establishing a school of magic arts. Although I doubt you will value them, considering how much you despise that magic is seen as a class luxury.”

“That sounds fascinating. And what are those reasons? I wish to know them before my next inspection. The timing is ideal: I have pending matters in Evelstain very soon.”

“…And if your conclusion is negative?”

Roselyn adjusted her hair, with an intense glint in her gaze as if a bonfire were burning behind her.

“I myself will reduce everything to ashes.”

It was evident why even the most extremist sectors preferred not to approach her. Melberot could only close his eyelids and divert his attention.

—

“The world has been turned upside down.”

In the office of the leader of the Duplein family.

Raeg, who now wore his hair short and patriarchal vestments, exuded a royal authority that surpassed his days as a prince. Meanwhile, Ryner, still a young aristocrat, settled into the expensive seat with unkempt clothing that left a trail of unpleasant odor.

“Those were Princess Roselyn’s words from the depths of the ‘Hall of Truth’ in Gremfort Palace.”

Among the nobility that inhabited the capital, that was almost a popular myth. Incredibly, both Ryner and Raeg were aware of the story about the mythical 6-star confusion mage that Roselyn had supposedly spoken of. Raeg pointed out that it was a known story, although too unreal to be taken as anything more than an old wives’ tale.

“For some, it may seem unserious… but that is how we are. For the players, this is entertainment material. Hey! Do you still frequent those gambling dens, Ryner? Even the Belmierd Family seems to have given up on looking for you…”

“Well, Elennte looks at me with contempt and complains as soon as I appear… Perhaps it might be wise to keep away from her.”

“…”

Derek watched the conversation in silence. Ryner’s extensive social circle was his only valuable attribute, useful on occasions to obtain information.

“The world has changed… What exactly does that mean?”

It is said that the young princess exclaimed that upon leaving the Hall of Truth one day. The suggestion was that a 6-star confusion mage had disrupted reality, modifying everyone’s perceptions through a monumental scale spell.

“…Altered? In what sense?”

“She never went into details. Roselyn remained silent immediately after.”

Derek’s expression darkened at the lack of a clear conclusion, but Ryner drank from his glass and leaned back even further in the furniture.

“That’s why those of us who live off gambling theorize. If a legendary 6-star mage alters the way we perceive the world, what would happen? You know these stories well, Raeg.”

“I have heard a thousand versions… All of them are nonsense. That they topple sovereigns, that they invert the cycle of the sun and moon, that they erase outlaws from the records… There is no real basis for any of that.”

“Are you sure?”

“It is logical. Not even a 6-star sorcerer possesses the power to rewrite the collective memory of humanity. That is…”

“Don’t be a boring adult trying to analyze it. That is where the fun lies!”

The liquor in Ryner’s glass shook after a loud burp while he leaned on the backrest.

“The chronicles mention a six-star agitator: Archangel Kellin of the Elim Mountains, right? It was said that he could bend wills just by looking.”

“It is true. But not even someone of his caliber can transform the world. Kalimford defeated him; according to the records, his execution took place in Gremfort castle. 6-star mages exceed human capacity, but they are not gods. They can redraw borders or defy natural laws, but change universal perception in the blink of an eye? It is impossible. They are conspiracy theories and folklore. However, despite how ridiculous the tale is, it has an unforeseen relevance.”

“So they are just a girl’s ravings?”

“That was the initial impression. But these stories endure for a reason. Sometimes, loose fragments end up fitting together.”

“Does Princess Roselyn have any mystical knowledge?”

“The complete opposite: she is not capable of using even 1-star magic. No, she is absolutely incapable of channeling mana.”

Before Derek’s impassive face, Raeg shook his head in a sign of denial. It is extremely unusual to find high-ranking people without magical abilities. What did it imply that a princess without a connection to magic was spreading such complex theories about it? The most likely thing was that they were just groundless rumors.

However, both Ryner and Raeg fell into silence.

“It is disturbing, isn’t it? Even if that legendary mage existed, how is it that only Princess Roselyn seems to know about magic capable of transforming the entire reality?”