Chapter 180

Chapter 180
Chapter 180
## Chapter 180: Inspection (1)

The formation of the imperial inspection entourage was carried out with astonishing speed. Within the noble bureaucracy that inhabited Gremfort Palace, the establishment of the Ravenclaw Academy already had unanimous approval, so the monarch’s visit to oversee the academic works was perceived as a mere formality. Emperor Gertrel, a man who had left behind his years of vigor and found himself in the twilight of his life, no longer possessed real weight in governance. His days passed between the care of a body worn down by illness and the refuge of memories of the era of splendor that he himself had forged for his nation.

However, under that superficial calm, political frictions burned between the imperial faction loyal to Princess Rozelyn, the faction of aristocrats commanded by President Damon and the noble officials, and the group of magic purists led by the Chief Magic Advisor Kochella. With Rozelyn’s succession to the throne practically etched in stone, those thirsty for influence crowded around the crown. There was a latent question in the air: what sense would it make to attain imperial authority if, to do so, one had to annihilate relatives and adversaries? Acting in that manner would only turn her into a sovereign without a will of her own, a mere puppet.

Inside her carriage, Princess Rozelyn remained absorbed, holding her forehead with one hand. Both Crown Prince Bulis and the second princess, Lavender, had withdrawn from the competition. At this critical point in the succession dispute, only Rozelyn’s unwavering will was capable of maintaining the standoff against factions as entrenched as the nobility and the devotees of pure magic. Her siblings were no rivals for such a task: Bulis was a scholar lost in his texts, while Lavender was nothing more than an ornamental and fragile figure.

While some members of the imperial lineage maintained an image of impeccability and beauty, others had to immerse themselves in conflict and navigate thorns to safeguard their position. In the court, no one questioned that Rozelyn possessed the capability necessary to lead.

“We require individuals with talent. Someone versed in the mystic arts, who cannot be manipulated by subjects as twisted as Kochella, but who also does not see knowledge as an exclusive privilege… That kind of person is almost nonexistent,” she reflected. Melberot would have been the perfect candidate, but his distrust of her was evident. To any approach, he responded with icy indifference. Although Rozelyn despised the bureaucrats of the capital, labeling them as greedy, she was aware that her own followers were not free of blemish either. Power and depravity walked hand in hand like radiance and shadow; what was vital was knowing how to manage that balance.

With that clarity, Rozelyn longed for someone with the temperament of Melberot. However, the man was comparable to a wolf of noble lineage; his pride prevented him from submitting to others, adhering strictly to his values while guarding the northern lands. His distinction as the Imperial Sword was nothing more than the payment of a debt of honor to the crown after the War of the Dawn. Curiously, in recent times, he seemed to yield to the wishes of his daughter, Sirine. The fact that he had taken in Derek and granted him prerogatives —even overlooking the founding of his own institution— made clear the respect Melberot professed for him, although Sirine’s influence in that decision was undeniable.

‘Baron Derek Raidow of Ravenclaw…’

While waiting on the railway transport that would soon begin its journey, Princess Rozelyn watched through the glass. Gremfort Palace, considered the pinnacle of human engineering, stood imposingly against the firmament. Its vastness was such that traveling through it on foot required more than half a day, and even in a horse-drawn carriage, considerable time was needed to cross its borders. Mastering that colossal complex was equivalent to mastering the destiny of the kingdom.

When considering her most direct opponents —Damon for the nobles and Kochella for the mages—, Rozelyn fell into ruminations. She urgently needed a resource, a tool so sharp that it could counter the bureaucratic cunning of Damon and the mastery of transformation magic of Kochella.

—The transport is about to depart, Your Royal Highness.
—…

Lost in her thoughts, she barely noticed when someone passed through the entrance of the carriage. Few would dare to burst into the princess’s private space without prior notice. As expected, the sinister old man and chief advisor, Kochella, had come to pay his respects.

—I am deeply flattered that Advisor Kochella would go to such lengths for my well-being. I am at a loss for words.

—There is no need for such suspicion, Your Majesty. After all, we share common interests, don’t we?

Before Rozelyn’s gesture of disgust, Kochella took a seat opposite her, sketching a subtle smile while revealing a voluminous mystic tome.

—Its creation was arduous. I present to you the ‘Book of Hatred,’ an ancestral grimoire with a labyrinthine structure that I have perfected through my transformation techniques. I aspired to a 6-star quality, but unfortunately, the final result remained at 5.

—Is it possible that a 6-star transformation master cannot always create objects of their own rank?

—Indeed. The preparation and the multiple external circumstances make it a constant challenge.

Officially, Kochella had only brought three 6-star relics to life. One of them belonged to Emperor Gertrel: the “Imperial Light,” a tool whose mystic essence was perceptible throughout the territory. Although the weakened Gertrel could not channel such strength, as an emblem of sovereign power, it was unparalleled.

Kochella slid the book, the size of an infant, toward the princess with a grimace of satisfaction.
—If there truly exists a 6-star mage with chaotic inclinations, this object will track him.

—What is the true utility of this volume?

—Do you wish to check it personally?

The distrust on Rozelyn’s face grew as she cautiously turned the heavy pages. The work dedicated to each runic inscription was astonishing, worthy of the best transformation artificers in the world. However, as she deciphered the hidden purpose, her countenance turned rigid.

—What is intended by this? It’s not that it affects me directly, but…

—It is a required offering. If that 6-star confusion mage is out there, this is the only method to find him.

Upon understanding the secret that the book harbored, the princess’s expression turned icy. It was obvious that, although the pretext was the inspection of the Ravenclaw Academy, Kochella was pursuing personal interests.

—That 6-star mage we speak of… if he truly exists, the inspection will bring him to light.

A flicker of uneasiness crossed Rozelyn’s gaze upon noticing the malice in the old man’s expression, but she managed to hide her fear with skill. She knew that the veterans of Gremfort Palace were like poisonous reptiles. Showing weakness now was useless. Although she did not know the full extent of Kochella’s plans, his fixation on finding the 6-star mage was absolute. This visit would not be calm; something was about to happen. It only remained to pray that it would not end in a massacre.

—

—Tomorrow we will receive the royal entourage at Ravenclaw. The attendance of Emperor Gertrel is an event of maximum relevance, so the presence of the entire academy is mandatory.

—I am aware.

At the end of the session in the Elfontaine Hall, Elennte, who usually did not intervene, suggested a social gathering for the noble ladies of the institution. Given her position as second in the ranking and leader of the Belmierd residence, her proposal was almost a mandate. Therefore, after their duties, they gathered in a tea room near the fountain of the noble zone of Evelstein.

Diela, Elennte, Denis, Sirine, and Trisha gathered there, surrounded by an escort of more than thirty guards. The appointment did not go unnoticed by the citizens, as the group emanated an overwhelming authority; each one represented the strength of an illustrious lineage.

Diela, the highest-ranking student, presided over the meeting. The Ducal House of Duplein had assumed the logistics: from the banquet to the reception, everything would be carried out on its grounds within the academy.

With an imposing posture and her reddish hair highlighting her, Elennte added:
—The Belmierd staff will provide their help. Before an inspection from the crown, any failure is inadmissible.

Denis, the third-ranked with silver hair, intervened with modesty:
—The Beltus family regrets not being able to contribute more due to their internal affairs, but my presence should ensure that the protocol is strictly followed.

—…Understood.

Sirine, fourth in rank and the most gifted in magic, remained silent. Usually surrounded by high-level mages, her presence always carried an atmosphere of almost warlike intensity.

‘Finally… I am part of this circle… Hehe… heheje…’ thought Trisha.

With Gertrel’s imminent arrival, coordination was vital. The program included welcome acts, followed by a lunch and a great dinner in the main hall. After the strict protocols, the ladies of the House of Ravenclaw would act as the face of the institution. Any slip would damage its prestige and increase political friction.

Despite the burden of the event, most remained relaxed, accustomed to representing their families. While Diela focused on her attire and Elennte remained impassive, Denis and Sirine showed no sign of stress. Only Trisha, without noticing it, was bathed in cold sweat.

‘Heheje… an inspection by the emperor… how funny… hilarious…’

Although she tried to maintain internal calm, her hands were visibly trembling. After being instructed by Sirine and supported by Elennte, Trisha now understood the weight of the hierarchy. However, her pride prevented her from appearing submissive. With effort, she raised her neck and wiped away the sweat, trying to feign indifference.

“Me, nervous? The jewel of the Renuels?” She repeated to herself. She, who had shone at the parties of Count Renuel, could not falter now. With an elegant gesture, she opened her fan and let out a forced laugh.

—2.

—?

When the others looked at her with bewilderment, Trisha realized the strangeness of her reaction and shrank back in her seat.

—

‘I feel terrible…’

At the end of the meeting, Trisha walked along the main avenue with her followers, feeling drained. She never imagined that a royal inspection would imply such a level of combined pressure. Comparing herself to figures of the stature of Diela or Sirine made her feel small, despite her attempts to keep her spirits up.

However, she regained her composure quickly. Near an ornamental fountain in the aristocratic sector, she stopped to watch the water to regain confidence.

‘With my bearing and elegance, I have no reason to feel lesser. Confidence in oneself is the key to success.’

Just when her habitual arrogance returned…

—It seems nerves are betraying you… Lady Trisha…

—Ah…!

A familiar voice startled her. Sitting next to the fountain was a woman of impeccable appearance, dressed in refined tunics and long brown hair. It was Lady Aiselin, who was supposed to be immersed in the preparations for the imperial event.

—A-Aiselin… Milady?

—May serenity accompany you… You look as radiant as ever…

—Oh, thank you… But… what are you doing here alone?

—A rest… an imposed vacation… so I wander without a fixed course…

—…Imposed?

Trisha noticed that, behind Aiselin’s calm facade, a deep fatigue was hidden.

—Working too much… subordinates usually complain…

—How? Isn’t that… something positive?

Aiselin’s eyes came to life. —Do you think so? Is it good to strive to the maximum?

—O-of course.

Before Trisha’s confirmation, Aiselin smiled more warmly.
—It’s true! We must give it our all! Existence is fleeting and we must not waste an instant.

—It is true.

—Derek suggested I take a breather, but being active makes me feel better. You also seem worried… is it because of the royal visit?

—Eh? Well… indeed…

—May I assist you?

—What are you saying?

Aiselin Eleanor Duplein, the woman who had restored the honor of her lineage on her own, an almost mythical figure. Who would refuse her help? Half the city of Evellstein would give anything for an opportunity like that.

But Trisha ignored the reality. Aiselin’s image of perfection was just a mask. In reality, Aiselin was like a double-edged sword that could destroy anyone who tried to wield it. Without knowing it, Trisha accepted the offer with joy, sealing what would be a drastic change for the history of her family.

—

“I am absenting myself briefly to find myself. I will return in a week.”

Derek sighed upon reading the message. Aiselin had left as soon as she obtained approval. The servants had brought the note to his office that morning.

“I had planned for her to resume her duties tomorrow…”

Upon hearing it, the butler Elfin and the rest of the staff turned pale. Having had Derek directly supervise the plantations during the past week had been an intense experience; his rigor had made them extremely efficient, but everyone yearned for a return to normalcy.

Derek valued Aiselin’s talent too much to let it go to waste. Her work capacity exceeded even that of the most experienced bureaucrats.

“Well… an extra week won’t hurt her. She has certainly worked without rest.” Efficient employees deserve some flexibility. Someone of her caliber could afford a temporary retreat. Being a 2-star mage close to reaching the third, the risk of something happening to her was minimal. Derek kept the note in his desk.

—Is there anything else I should know?

—…A letter has arrived from the palace.

It was a letter addressed personally to him. The inspection would not be a trivial event. Seeing the seal of Kochella, the magic advisor, Derek frowned while accepting the ornamented Delbritton envelope.

‘That old man is plotting something,’ thought Derek, narrowing his eyes while leaning on his desk.