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Table of Contents

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Title Page
Copyright
Chapter 1: Hey, How About Another International
Conference?
Chapter 2: Evil Spirits and Devilish Schemes
Chapter 3: Those Who Stir Storms
Chapter 4: The Gathering in Action
Epilogue
Afterword

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 Copyright

The Genius Prince’s Guide to Raising a Nation Out of Debt (Hey, How
About Treason?) 8
Toru Toba
Translation by Jessica Lange
Cover art by Falmaro
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and
incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons,
living or dead, is coincidental.
TENSAI OUJI NO AKAJI KOKKA SAISEI-JYUTSU~SOUDA, BAIKOKU
SHIYOU~ volume 8
Copyright © 2020 Toru Toba
Illustrations copyright © 2020 Falmaro
All rights reserved.
Original Japanese edition published in 2020 by SB Creative Corp.
This English edition is published by arrangement with SB Creative
Corp., Tokyo in care of Tuttle-Mori Agency, Inc., Tokyo.
English translation © 2022 by Yen Press, LLC
Yen Press, LLC supports the right to free expression and the value of
copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and
artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without
permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you
would like permission to use material from the book (other than for
review purposes), please contact the publisher. Thank you for your
support of the author’s rights.

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Yen On
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The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that
are not owned by the publisher.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Toba, Toru, author. | Falmaro, illustrator. | Lange, Jessica
(Translator), translator.
Title: The genius prince’s guide to raising a nation out of debt (hey,
how about treason?) / Toru Toba ; illustration by Falmaro ;
translation by Jessica Lange.
Other titles: Tensai ouji no akaji kokka saisei-jyutsu, souda, baikoku
shiyou. English
Description: First Yen On edition. | New York, NY : Yen On, 2019–
Identifiers: LCCN 2019017156| ISBN 9781975385194 (v. 1 : pbk.) |
ISBN9781975385170 (v. 2 : pbk.) | ISBN 9781975309985 (v. 3 : pbk.)
| ISBN 9781975310004 (v. 4 : pbk.) | ISBN 9781975313708 (v. 5 :

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pbk.) | ISBN 9781975319830 (v. 6 : pbk.) | ISBN 9781975321604 (v. 7
: pbk.) | ISBN 9781975335878 (v. 8 : pbk.)
Subjects: LCSH: Princes—Fiction.
Classification: LCC PL876.O25 T4613 2019 | DDC 895.6/36—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019017156
ISBNs: 978-1-9753-3587-8 (paperback)
978-1-9753-3588-5 (ebook)
E3-20211222-JV-NF-ORI

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Located on the northernmost tip of the Varno, the Kingdom of Natra
was known for being a nation of immigrants. Snuggled on the border
between East and West, its land didn’t draw much attention to
itself—except that it had terrible weather—but it quickly became a
home for those without a place to stay, letting them quietly exist
together…
A ray of fortune might be shining down on them now—largely
because of Crown Prince Wein—but this didn’t change the fact that
most of the citizens were originally from elsewhere.
Of these various peoples, the Flahm were the most known, with their
characteristic red eyes and white hair. Due to their appearance and
history as a people, they were discriminated against in Western
countries; even a supposed meritocracy like the Eastern Empire saw
them as a cursed race.
That wasn’t the case in Natra, however. About a hundred years
earlier, Ralei, the leader of some nomadic Flahm, offered all his
knowledge and skill to the King of Natra in exchange for the safety of
his people. The king was eager to make this deal, but of course, he
faced some backlash in the early days. After all, the will of a ruler
wasn’t always a reflection of the will of the people.
Nonetheless, neither the king nor the Flahm bent to the public, and
they eventually achieved harmony with the entire population.
A century later, the Flahm lived in Natra as part of its social fabric.
This was a hard-won victory, a great feat that started with Ralei and
bore fruit through the efforts of many Flahm.
That was exactly why they could never afford to forget…that there
was incalculable worth hidden in the seemingly mundane—

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“It’s our time!”
The scene opens in a room of a certain manor. Beyond the window,
the night was chilly, the sky twinkling faintly with stars. It was
autumn, winter nearing. Unlike the weather outside, however, the
room inside was hot as the excitement of its occupants hung heavily
in the air.
“Natra has grown at explosive rates under the leadership of the
Prince. That said, we lack the manpower to support a growing
nation, which means we’re experiencing shortages in every area. This
is the perfect chance for us—the Flahm—to step up!”
Any outsiders would be shocked if they got a glimpse of this scene.
After all, every attendee—from young men to elderly women—had
flaming red eyes and white hair. This was a gathering of citizens who
represented the Flahm in Natra.
“After a hundred years of living in obscurity, our time is finally here!
We must work hard to improve our conditions in Natra and restore
the pride of our people!” proclaimed the young man. His speech
carried the same youthful energy his looks suggested.
It wasn’t just his peers who were listening intently to him.
“Yeah, if we can get our own people to patch over those openings,
the Flahm will be more influential in Natra.”
“But we stand out just by existing. Non-Flahm will try to knock us
down a few pegs if we make our motives too obvious.”
“Then we just gotta gain enough power to make them swallow their
words. I bet we could do that now.”
“Right. With His Highness leading the nation, the value of Natra is on
the rise. More people are applying for government jobs by the day.

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Any available positions will fill up in no time. We can’t just sit around
twiddling our thumbs.”
The majority sided with the young man.
As the territory under Natra expanded, more people would be
coming in from abroad. The problem was that most of them hated
the Flahm. If the new settlers numbered in the single digits, they
would have to obey Natra’s customs and assimilate. But if it was
several dozen…or several hundred people? And if they were
appointed to government positions? What would happen then?
In the best case, they would keep their distance from the Flahm. It
was more likely, however, that they would consider the Flahm—a
race persecuted elsewhere—as an obstacle to overcome and
attempt to get rid of them.
That was why the Flahm had to secure their own positions as Natra
continued to grow. Everyone was more or less in agreement there.
There were, however, shadows who regarded them with cold eyes.
“—What do the two of you think?”
Called to join in on the conversation was a man of middle years and a
young girl. His name was Levan. Hers, Ninym.
They were also Flahm, but the room treated them with noticeable
deference. Levan was their leader and served as the aide of King
Owen of Natra. Ninym currently served as Prince Wein’s aid but
would one day inherit Levan’s position. In other words, one could say
they were the two most influential Flahm in Natra.
“…I will not disagree that this is an opportunity,” Levan stated.
Everyone in the room turned to him. “However, we must not forget
that the Flahm filled many empty positions after the insurrection and
subsequent purge. People—a number that’s not unsubstantial—

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were displeased by this decision. If we wish to expand further, we
must do it with extreme care.”
Levan’s tone was solemn and calm. Under normal circumstances, he
could cool everyone’s heads to some extent, but—
“Master Levan, don’t you think you are taking this matter a little too
passively for someone of your standing?”
“I must agree. Many of the high-ranking positions granted to us after
the purge are technically temporary. They can be stripped away at
any time and for any reason.”
“In fact, we would like for you to bring this matter to His Majesty’s
and His Highness’s attention—to make our temporary positions
official appointments.”
Even Levan couldn’t deescalate the fervor in the room. He groaned,
and Ninym spoke up next to him.
“…There seems to be some sort of misunderstanding.” Ninym’s voice
was much more youthful than Levan’s but equally frigid. “As aides to
the royal family, Master Levan and I are in high-ranking positions.
Our duty, however, is to support them and help guide the
nation…not favor our own people.”
Next to her, Levan looked visibly troubled, and the crowd began to
stir.
“Lady Ninym! You can’t be serious!”
“The future of the Flahm rests on your shoulders!”
“If you—the person closest to the prince—adopt that attitude, it’ll
set a poor example for everyone else!”
The representatives were in an uproar. Ninym answered them with
an icy glare. Only Levan noticed her fist clenching tightly underneath
the desk. This continued for some time until the dissenters
eventually began to run out of steam.

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“…Even after all that’s been said—” called out a husky voice.
Everyone turned their attention toward an elderly woman who had
been listening in silence until now. Although her age disqualified her
from the front lines, her opinion held more weight than anyone
else’s present.
“Point me to our qualified individuals who can fill these important
government positions.” She glanced at those around her. Despite her
years, the glint in her eyes held such power that it made them
instinctively gulp. “I’m sure you’ve all realized that our most useful
members are already employed in some way or another. If we
squeeze incompetent persons into these positions, we will be taken
advantage of by those who already hate us.”
“Y-yes, Elder. That’s true, but…”
“We might be able to find more people if we look closely among us.
If all else fails, we can train any promising youth.”
“And do you know any prospects?”
“……”
All the participants fell into an awkward silence. Levan didn’t let this
moment pass him by.
“Let’s search for potential candidates before our next meeting. After
all, we’ll get nowhere without cards to play… Let’s call it for today.”
Levan’s statement concluded the assembly.

“…Well,” Levan said with a grievous sigh after everyone had left the
meeting room, “that went just about as I expected, but it still places
us in a tough position…”
He crossed his arms in thought when he heard a loud bam!

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Levan turned to find that Ninym was still in the room, and he
watched her kick a chair nearby. She gave it another good kick and
sent it flying.
“…Be graceful, Ninym.”
Ignoring him, Ninym remained silent, indignation on her face. Levan
let out another sigh. It was a difficult situation indeed.
“Are you that displeased by their opinion?”
“I am.” Her words were clipped, her disapproval clear.
“…We may have found peace in Natra, but we will never shake the
feeling that danger is around the corner as long as we continue to
hear how Flahm are treated in other nations. I can understand why
they want to be one step ahead,” Levan reasoned. “No one is saying
we should resort to force. We’ll curry favor with people of influence
as we’ve always done, fill important economic and political roles,
gain power to protect our brethren, and—”
“Form an independent kingdom of Flahm if the opportunity arises?”
Ninym asked, her words piercing like a spear. “The whole notion is
ridiculous. We’ve lost our god and country and learned nothing from
it.”
“Ninym.”
“I’m not naive enough to tell you to trust that others are acting with
only good intentions. I know some people wish to expel us, and we
must constantly prove our worth in Natra to thwart them. That said,”
Ninym spat, “don’t tell me you didn’t notice that their underlying
motive is to use Natra in its time of crisis to create a nation of
Flahm.”
“……” Levan grimly closed his eyes. He didn’t refute her. He was also
aware there were some Flahm at the meeting who wanted this.

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“It’s an impossible dream, Ninym. Only a handful of people believe
it’s possible. The majority think it’s nothing more than a fleeting idea
that it would be nice.”
“So we’re ready to throw away peace—which might I remind you
took us a hundred years to achieve—just for this short-lived
consolation prize? Independence has a pleasant ring to those
dissatisfied with the status quo. But what happens next? Will we
announce to the rest of the continent that we’re different from the
others, satisfy our tiny egos, and enjoy our newfound glory? Oh,
please. How can a race of people with no army, no funds, and no
power go against an entire continent and hold their own nation
together?” Ninym barked. “We can keep dreaming, but you know
we’ll be trampled by the other countries and races. Natra won’t be
so tolerant anymore and might choose to throw stones at us. They’ll
curse the Ashheads to go back to our own country—and we’ll be the
punch line. What kind of cruel joke is that?”
Ninym glowered at Levan and continued.
“We look unique. Other people think we appear unnatural. For them
to accept us in their hearts, we must continue to be good
neighbors… You were the one who taught me that, Master Levan.”
“…You’re right. I did,” Levan answered with a vexed sigh.
Ninym was right. Impeccably so. He knew it, and he knew that was
why Ninym, who could usually brush off such comments, was up in
arms.
“But, Ninym, you should at least try and keep up appearances in
front of everyone for now. You heard what they said at the meeting,
didn’t you? You’re our future. For that reason alone, you—”
“The one I serve,” Ninym began, rage blazing in her eyes, “is neither
our people nor their dreams. It is the crown prince of Natra, Wein
Salema Arbalest, and none other.”

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She got to her feet.
“Ninym,” Levan called as she turned her back on him, but she never
broke stride, eventually disappearing behind the door.
“…What am I supposed to do?” Levan stared up at the ceiling, sinking
into his chair, all alone in the room.

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He felt a sudden presence by the doorway. He instinctively turned
toward it and noticed a small human shadow.
—It was the old woman who had admonished everyone earlier in the
meeting.
“You haven’t returned home yet, Elder?”
“I took a short break. You can’t fight against old age, you see…though
I’d say you’re more tired than me.”
Levan shrugged. “I wish we could switch places.”
“No, no, we can ask for no greater leader. I could never hope to fill
your shoes.”
“Tell me what you really think.”
“I’m filled with joy, seeing a cheeky, snot-nosed brat becoming our
leader and suffering because of it. I can’t die yet. It’s just begun.”
“…Damn hag.”
“Out of that mouth comes evil,” rasped the old woman with a smile
as she crossed the room to approach the window. “So how are things
looking, Levan? Will we be able to pick up the pace?”
“It won’t be easy. Despite what I told everyone, there don’t seem to
be any good candidates left. Unfortunately, Natra has expanded too
fast.”
“Will our dreams of independence go unfulfilled?”
“Yes—without a definitive plan for funds, material resources, or
manpower. It won’t take long until we all wake up and realize it was
nothing more than a passing dream.”
“Oh, how I hope that’s how it ends.”

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The old woman continued to look out the window, and her eyes
observed Ninym as the girl exited the building.
“…Levan, I assume you haven’t told young ones about that, right?”
“Yes, I’m keeping that private. I considered mentioning it near the
end of my tenure…but that was before. As they are now, it would
only incite violence.”
“Yes…” The old woman had on a mild expression. “…They can’t know
yet. They can’t know that Ralei wanted something other than seeing
the Flahm flourish. They can’t know what Ralei and that group risked
their lives to protect.”
As she murmured to herself, the old woman gazed at the girl young
enough to be her grandchild with an expression both affectionate
and full of respect.

Falanya’s tutor, Claudius, entered the library archive to find an

unexpected guest.
“Your Highness, what are you doing here?”
“Hmm? …Oh, Claudius.”
Silhouetted against the orderly bookshelves and faint rays of light
filtering through the window was a young man with a book in hand.
The crown prince of Natra, Wein Salema Arbalest.
“Isn’t there only one reason why anyone ever comes in here?” Wein
asked with a small smile, balancing his book in his hand.
So he had come to the library to read. It was obvious now that he
mentioned it. That said, it was strange for someone in Wein’s
position.
“I’m certain an official would have delivered the desired book to your
office if you had asked.”

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“Don’t say that. Going to the library to find your own book comes
with its own pleasures.”
“…I see. I can understand that.”
In Claudius’s younger days, his heart used to dance whenever he
headed to the library of the city he once called home.
“Anyway, Claudius, you’re here for a book, too, right?”
“Yes. I am searching for a book to use during my lessons with
Princess Falanya.”
“Oh yeah? I heard that Falanya has been hitting the books lately.
What’re you studying now?”
“The history of the Western continent,” Claudius replied. Now was as
good a time as any for him to have this discussion with Wein.
“…We’ll also be touching on the nation of Flahm in the near future.”
“Oh, that…” Wein gave an uneasy groan.
There once was the proud and prosperous kingdom of the Flahm in
the West. Not many in this town, however, knew about its rise and
fall. Remaining records had been kept by the royal families of
Western nations or by the Flahm themselves. The most detailed
accounts belonged to the former and the royal family of Natra, to
whom the Flahm had entrusted their records.
“What do you advise? According to tradition, these events should be
taught by a royal family member of the same bloodline.”
Wein mulled this over for a few seconds. “…This should be my
father’s role, but I’ll do it.”
“In that case, I shall inform you when the time comes,” Claudius
replied with a reverent bow.
The tutor continued to speak with Wein about inconsequential
matters as he gathered the necessary materials for Falanya’s lessons.

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Most other government officials would not dare to engage in casual
conversation with the prince; they would prostate themselves before
him—as he was now steering Natra. Claudius, on the other hand,
knew Wein enjoyed this kind of thing with his vassals.
Not just the prince, but the entire family does.
Internal unity was paramount for a small country like Natra. After all,
they’d be blown away in an instant if they failed to unite when a
foreign threat came calling. This was why each generation of the
royal family loved to meet as many people as possible. They knew
that direct communication and mutual understanding were the best
way to build that bond.
They can appraise the type of person they’re dealing with and
charm them with their personality… I suppose it would be offensive to
compare them to swindlers.
Well, Wein would have laughed at this and taken it in stride. Barring
a few exceptions and as long as you were acting with some level of
courtesy, the young prince would forgive just about anything with a
smile.
And that courtesy is only for the benefit of everyone else. His
Highness couldn’t care less about his own position and authority. Even
among the royal family, that’s an exception.
Claudius used to be Wein’s childhood tutor, and the boy had been
outstanding even then. He was obviously brilliant, and his thought
processes, value systems, and perceptiveness were peculiar, too.
Wein had left Claudius shaken more than once or twice.
…Even with that incident with Sirgis. I wonder what His Highness
was thinking when he accepted Princess Falanya’s vassal.
Sirgis was the former prime minister of Delunio. Wein’s schemes
caused him to fall from power and be chased from his homeland.

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Several days prior, he arrived in Natra by Princess Falanya’s own
invitation. Soon after their meeting, Sirgis became her vassal.
This development had sent the Imperial court in a spiral. Everyone
was aware that Princess Falanya had been devoting herself to her
studies so she could help her brother. Her only attendants before
this had been several handmaidens and Nanaki, a Flahm. That was
what spurred her to secretly choose someone to aide her in political
matters… In any event, the sudden appearance of a foreign ex–prime
minister was bound to create chaos.
Claudius had been just as shocked. He was the one who told Falanya
about the location of the retired prime minister, but even he never
could have imagined she’d convince him to serve under her. He was
impressed to discover that royal blood was as strong in her as it was
in Wein.
That said, Claudius couldn’t just do nothing in his state of
astonishment. Even if Falanya wasn’t yet at Wein’s level, she was
steadily passing milestones on her own. And she had appointed
someone with a personal vendetta against Wein. Several vassals
were already starting to worry about her growing circle—which
would undoubtedly lead to a faction war.
Based on the way they saw it, the sooner Wein criticized Sirgis’s
appointment, the better. It was well known that the siblings were
close, so they had assumed Falanya would have no choice but to
comply if her brother tried to stop her.
But Prince Wein hasn’t attempted to stop her. Some believe this is
because their relationship is so strong that he can’t bring himself to
scold his little sister, but…
Was the prince so soft that his love for his sister would prevent him
from going against her? Wasn’t he a prince as cold as ice, despite his
gentle disposition?

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That was why Claudius knew Wein was confident that he could
manage the growth of Falanya’s faction and Sirgis’s crafty schemes.
And Claudius would bet that Wein’s true intentions would be
indecipherable to the common man.
“………”
The window suddenly went dark. Wein’s features were obscured in
shadow. It was like looking into the abyss.
“What’s wrong, Claudius?”
“…Nothing. Please pardon me. It seems I’m tired.” Claudius shook his
head. It was over in an instant. In the blink of an eye, Wein’s
expression was gentle once again.
“Falanya and I will be heading out as foreign ambassadors pretty
soon. Take care of yourself so she doesn’t have to worry about you.”
“Of course… Will you both be attending the Gathering of the
Chosen?”
“I’ll be at the Gathering, but Falanya is going to a meeting with some
major leaders that’ll be happening at the same time.”
The Gathering of the Chosen. A conference hosted by Levetia, the
religion that dominated the Western continent. Leaders known as
the “Holy Elite” came together to discuss various matters concerning
the religion. It was customarily held each spring, but owing to some
scheduling difficulties, it had been postponed to the end of fall.
“I didn’t have the opportunity to talk to all the Holy Elites when I
attended the last time, so this is my chance. I’ve talked about
strategy with the vassals, and I have to admit it’s tempting to foster
relations with the West.”
Claudius nodded in agreement. For the past several years, Natra had
been progressing at accelerated speeds, and being sandwiched

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between the Eastern Empire and all the nations to the west meant
they couldn’t sever ties with either side—at least not yet.
“At any rate, do try to avoid the same kind of trouble you
encountered last time.”
“Gah.” Wein looked a little ashamed, acting his age for once.
The neighboring nation of Cavarin had invited him to the last
Gathering, and after a series of twists and turns, Wein ended up
fleeing their capital and going against their army. He’d had his
reasons, but there was no question his actions had been less than
exemplary.
“D-don’t worry about it. It’ll be smooth sailing,” Wein said with a
forced smile.
“I would like to believe so. However, the truth is that we’ve hardly
had a moment’s peace since you became regent, Your Highness.”
“………”
Claudius was right; trouble seemed to always be just around the
corner. Wein paused for a while before speaking with newfound
resolve.
“If it looks like this trip takes a wrong turn, I’ll run to the church and
pray.”
“…Right.”
In the third autumn since Prince Wein of Natra had been appointed
regent, he set off with Princess Falanya to attend the Gathering of
the Chosen for the second time. Some historical records claim the
prince stopped by a church on his way back and doused himself in
holy water, but the veracity of this remains unclear.

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The Imperial Capital of Grantsrale in the Earthworld Empire.
One girl sat in a room of the Imperial Palace. Lowellmina Earthworld,
the youngest Imperial Princess of the Earthworld Empire.
News had made its way across the continent about how Imperial
Prince Demetrio had recently tried to ascend the throne for himself,
which ended up catching the middle prince, youngest prince, and
Lowellmina in a domestic conflict. Amid this turmoil, it was, in fact,
Lowellmina who had emerged victorious. She pushed aside the
armies of the middle and youngest princes, and the eldest brother
fell from power just as the throne was within reach. Then, by
undergoing the required ceremony, she announced her legitimacy as
the future Empress.
Lowellmina was a modern heroine. Although she hadn’t yet risen to
the throne, which could trigger a revolt, it was no exaggeration to
say the eyes of the entire continent were on her every move.
As for what sort of task a figure universally described as “legendary”
was undertaking at the Imperial Palace…
“I’m going to power puke…” She faced a mountain of paperwork
with a deadpan expression.
“Your Highness, please don’t cut too loose when you’re out of the
public eye,” her subordinate, Fyshe, advised next to her.
Imperial Princess Lowellmina’s constant groaning as she slumped
over a desk of unprocessed paperwork didn’t exactly scream
“dignified.”
“You think I’m taking it easy?! I’m giving you all I have to offer! And
all I can offer is this pukey feeling!”
“Please choose your words with more care.”

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“Violently pukey!”
“Your Highness…” Fyshe flashed her a despondent look, and
Lowellmina pouted childishly.
“Can you blame me?! I haven’t had a moment to rest since I made
the announcement!”
“I understand, but…”
Lowellmina was the former leader of the Patriot Faction, which was
known for lamenting their concern over the future of the Empire. On
top of that, she had defeated her three older brothers and boosted
the numbers of the Patriot Faction by absorbing the eldest brother
Demetrio’s followers once he fell from power. The factions of the
two remaining brothers also weakened upon losing the war, and
their unification was steadily deteriorating. In the eyes of society, the
odds were clearly in Lowellmina’s favor.
—However…
“Our faction might fall apart. I’m soooo screwed…”
As it turned out, Lowellmina was in a tight spot.
To start, the Patriot Faction had always been scared that the battle
for the throne might destabilize the Empire, which was why they had
banded together in the first place. And now, their representative,
Lowellmina, had announced that she would join the fight without
any warning—even if it was the eldest prince’s doing. Many of the
people in the faction were like, “Hold up, this wasn’t the
agreement.” And could you blame them for having that reaction?
In addition, Demetrio’s faction wasn’t actually loyal to Lowellmina.
They had only half-heartedly joined her on account of the eldest
prince’s insistence. Plus, it would have been awkward to join the
other brothers’ factions, since they’d recently crossed swords with
them, and these two groups were also on the decline anyway. If they

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were being honest, more than a few were waiting to crush the
princess who had caused Demetrio’s downfall as soon as she slipped
up.
As the icing on the cake, opportunists were banding under her, too.
Like the eldest prince’s faction, they felt no loyalty toward
Lowellmina. This itself was not much cause for alarm. The issue was
that most of them were angling to be Lowellmina’s husband. The
value of snagging a beautiful bachelorette who might be next in line
for the throne was priceless. With this role on the line, a battle—an
intense one—had broken out within the faction.
As if the tension wasn’t already bad enough, Lowellmina couldn’t
stand being treated as a prize in their bro fight. This was the source
of her constant groaning.
“In the end, I’m being underestimated once again.”
The Patriot Faction thought she was contributing to violence in the
Empire.
The eldest prince’s faction looked down on her for defeating their
leader through what seemed like sheer luck.
The guys aiming for her hand in marriage undermined her and didn’t
believe for two seconds that a woman could rule the Empire.
She had to do something. She had to prove to everyone in her
faction that the person named Lowellmina was worth serving.
Except she still didn’t have the slightest clue how to go about that.
“I’m going to power puke…”
This was the only conclusion she’d arrived at.

Page | 33
Page | 34
The middle and youngest princes were busy scrambling to gather
their forces because they’d lost. Lowellmina was attempting the
same thing because she’d won. Victory or defeat, the outcome
seemed to be the same, oddly enough.
“Fyshe, tell me something funny,” Lowellmina said out of
desperation.
Fyshe looked sullen. “Unfortunately, as someone who is glued to
your side, everything that I’ve experienced, you’ve experienced.”
“I don’t need you to be all logical! Tell me a funny story to lift my
spirits! Make something up if you have to!”
“…Very well. I have a rather comedic tale about an attendant who
became so delirious after many nights of accompanying her very
busy master that she got lost on her way home.”
“…I’ll give you a day off sometime, so let’s pretend that never
happened! Okay?!”
“Hmm? There’s no need to act so flustered. It’s just a story made it
up on the spot.” There was a terrifying quality to Fyshe’s grin.
Lowellmina internally vowed never to broach the matter again.
“Ah, I wouldn’t call it a ‘funny’ story, but the object of your
obsessions, Prince Wein, will be attending the Gathering of the
Chosen.”
“Oh, is it that time already?”
At present, people considered the Kingdom of Natra an ally of the
Empire and part of Lowellmina’s faction. This, however, was just the
public opinion. The relationship between Natra and the Empire—the

Page | 35
relationship between Wein and Lowellmina—was in a precarious
state, teetering by the slightest change in conditions.
This Gathering of the Chosen was the same way. The prince insisted
he’d ensure the Western nations wouldn’t encroach on the Empire,
but this was Wein. He had to be plotting to form some kind of
relations with them.
Fyshe looked troubled. “Is there a chance Natra will side with the
West?”
“It’s possible, but I don’t think it’s very realistic for them to sever ties
with the Empire. Unless something drastic happens, he’ll want to
maintain our current relationship.”
“But that may not agree with what the West wants.”
“Precisely.” Lowellmina smiled. “Show me how you’ll fight against
these Western monsters, Wein.”

It was a dream, almost suffocating, one that led her through a dark
swamp. The mud bonding to her feet grew heavier with every step.
She kept treading forward—through the pain, through the suffering,
through the urge to cry. She pressed on, even as the sludge dragged
her down.
What lay up ahead? That was anyone’s guess—
“ Ngh.” Ninym’s eyes snapped open.
Shoot! she cursed, instantly regretful.
She was inside a carriage. Wein was heading to the Gathering of the
Chosen, and Ninym was selected to accompany him as part of the
delegation. Hair dyed black, she was in the same carriage as Wein as
both his servant and his guard—but she’d inadvertently fallen asleep.

Page | 36
At fault were the sunlight pouring through the windows and the
gentle rocking of the carriage. At any rate, she was a disgrace to
guards everywhere for displaying this moment of weakness, for
falling asleep in front of her master.
“Your—”
Your Highness. Ninym was about to call out to him, but the words
caught in her throat. Her crimson eyes watched Wein doze with his
chin in his hand, arm propped up against the window frame.
…Wein fell asleep, too.
Ninym looked at his peaceful expression and sighed, experiencing
some respite from the crushing weight of her dream earlier. She
continued to gaze up at him. Time passed quietly, the carriage lightly
rocking.
…Ninym stood without a word and cautiously glanced to her sides.
Wein didn’t stir. Even the guards surrounding them on horseback
weren’t paying attention to the occupants inside. —In other words,
Ninym could do whatever she pleased here, and no one would know.
…Gently now. Gently.
Ninym knelt next to Wein. Her earlier dream was to blame for this.
She felt compelled to indulge herself—just a little. She rested her
head on Wein’s chest and nuzzled her cheek against him like a puppy
snuggling with its master.
“Mm…” Wein mumbled softly, and Ninym stiffened. He gave no
other indication, however, that he was awake. Relieved, she rubbed
her cheek against him twice…and then a third time.
As she did, Wein’s hand sleepily moved to stroke Ninym’s head. He
wasn’t awake; this was pure habit. Whenever his consciousness was
hazy, Wein—a man often busy pampering Falanya—often mistook
anyone who put their head against his chest for his little sister.

Page | 37
Unfortunately, he was still in dreamland, so he would sometimes
stop moving as if he were a marionette with cut strings. Fortunately,
it took only a bit of prodding to get him to start again. In all of Natra,
only Ninym and Falanya knew about this little secret.
“Haaah…” Ninym felt herself break into an easy smile. These secret
moments were impossible when Wein was awake or when they were
in the public eye.
He’ll wake up if I keep pressing my luck, but maybe if it’s just a little
longer…
Wein’s fingers combed through her dyed hair. As she basked in the
sensation and continued to tell herself that it would be one more
minute—
Ka-thunk! The carriage lurched.
“Nnghh, yaaaawn—” Wein groaned. His consciousness settled in his
mind, and his eyes opened. Through his blurry vision, he saw…Ninym
sitting across from him.
“Oh, Ninym. You’re awake?”
“—Yes, I just woke up.” As she steadied her panicked, ragged breath,
Ninym flashed him a smile. She had moved with such speed that
even Wein failed to catch her in that instant between sleep and
consciousness.
“Hey, Ninym, was Falanya just here?”
“What? She’s in a different carriage. You know that.”
“Oh, right… Was I dreaming? But that was so…”
“A-anyway, Wein! Now that you’re awake, let’s review our strategy!”
“S-sure. What’s gotten into you? But I guess you have a point.” Wein
was confused by her behavior, but he went with the flow and
switched gears. “Not sure if you can call it a ‘strategy,’ really. We’ll

Page | 38
meet the Holy Elites in Lushan—and rip a hole in their trap, which I
know is there, one hundred percent.”
The old capital of Lushan. Holy ground for devotees of Levetia and
the current forum for the Gathering of the Chosen.
“Do you really think they’re up to something?”
“Definitely. They wouldn’t invite me to their little Gathering on a
whim or from momentary madness.”
Only Holy Elites could attend the Gathering of the Chosen,
technically. During the same conference in the capital of Cavarin,
Wein was just invited to a private audience with the king of the
nation that took place at the same time, not to the meeting itself.
“I probably wouldn’t have been so suspicious if they’d come up with
another excuse…but there’s no question that this invite is for the
Gathering of the Chosen. The letter was in Holy King Silverio’s own
hand.”
The Holy King. A man chosen by the Holy Elites. The head of Levetia.
Silverio currently held the position—and he was rumored to have a
close relationship with the director of Levetia’s Gospel Bureau,
Caldmellia.
“Which means Director Caldmellia probably had a say in the matter.”
“And if we’re dealing with that witch, you know she isn’t just being
nice.”
Ninym sighed. “We can’t get out of this with some excuse…which
really sucks.”
“Considering everything, we’d be pretty dumb to think they’d just
leave Natra alone.”
The Kingdom of Natra, nestled between the Eastern and Western
continents, was a buffer zone. As regent, Wein had developed a
foreign policy to play the opportunist and cater to both sides. It had

Page | 39
worked well when it was a poor nation—the other countries were
confident that they could put Natra back in its place if push came to
shove. That was how the country had been able to skirt danger while
maintaining friendly relations with everyone for so long.
Now, Natra had grown exponentially. This doubling in size made
them a legitimate power in the eyes of the rest of the continent.
Their presence put pressure on top military leaders in the East and
the West, forcing them to reconsider what would happen if Natra
ever decided to set its sights on them.
If one took a quick glance at Wein’s career since rising to power—
that is, his constant warring against Western nations—it was natural
to conclude that the situation was leaning favorably to the East.
“There’s an unmistakable threat in this invite. It’s basically saying, ‘If
you want to side with the West…and Levetia, then you’d better show
up.’ If we turned it down, I bet they would label us heretics.”
If that happened, it would make Natra an enemy of the West. Wein
wanted to avoid this outcome, which meant he had no other choice
but to attend. Despite his obvious favoritism of the East, the West
continued to be gracious. That alone told him they weren’t yet ready
to cast Wein and Natra aside.
“In that case, I would assume the West is planning to either ally with
Natra…or force us to cut our ties with the Empire.”
“It’s possible.”
Princess Tolcheila of the Soljest Kingdom had once told him that
Natra’s days of sitting on the fence were over. She was right. The
Western nations were going to make sure of that.
“So what will you do, Wein?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Wein answered with a smile. “I’m gonna keep
things vague!”

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“…is what I imagine His Regency is saying.”
Behind Wein and Ninym’s carriage, a second stagecoach with the
same appearance rolled forward. There were three people inside—
Princess Falanya, her guard Nanaki, and Falanya’s recently appointed
vassal, Sirgis.
“So he’s planning to play both sides for as long as he can.”
Sirgis had just finished explaining Wein’s strategy to Falanya. She
intended to confirm the truth on her own with Wein at a later date,
but she had gotten Sirgis to explain this to her, so she wouldn’t take
up too much of her brother’s busy schedule trying to decipher his
plans. It also helped the princess measure the abilities of her new
vassal.
“Geographically speaking, if a full-scale war broke out between the
East and the West, Natra would become the front line. Whomever
we side with, that will not change. If this happened, Natra would be
crushed in an instant despite its impressive growth.”
“Hmm,” Falanya groaned. “So Natra has made significant progress,
but there’s still room for improvement.”
“On the contrary. I believe this expansion has brought us trouble,”
Sirgis replied politely. “Other nations see Natra as a significant
threat. As it stands, if we decide to stop dithering, it will incite the
Eastern and the Western countries to take drastic measures. In short,
the very act of Natra announcing their preferred alliance may spur
both sides to engage in war.”
“Being a tiny nation was difficult enough, but to think prosperity
would bring us just as much trouble. It’s not fair…”

Page | 41
Falanya let out a weary, involuntary sigh. It was clear that her
brother wasn’t currying favor by choice. He was maintaining a very
delicate balance for the sake of Natra and its survival.
I’m sure it’s not so simple. Even Wein is only human. He must be
suffering and voicing his complaints where no one can see…
This was no laughing matter. It wouldn’t surprise her if her brother’s
heart was tormented by the thought that the future of Natra was on
the line.
I have to come into my own as fast as possible so I can help him.
As Wein occupied her thoughts, Falanya cemented her dedication to
the cause.

“Keh-keh-keh, you must think you’re so sneaky, calling me over there

so you can corner me in front of the Holy Elites. But don’t you even
think of trying me, Caldmellia. I’ll make sure this Gathering of the
Chosen is the most draining, pointless, and unproductive meeting of
all time…!”
“……”
“Hmm? What’s up, Ninym?”
“Nothing, I was just thinking it must be hard being such a huge
wimp.”
Wein blinked at her. What in the world could she possibly be talking
about?
“—Your Highness, the city has come into view,” the carriage driver
called out.
The two opened the window and looked outside. The outline of a city
was before them. The old capital of Lushan, where the Gathering of
the Chosen was to be held—

Page | 42
But the city outside wasn’t Lushan.
Their destination was still several days away. This was one of the
transit points that led to it. There wasn’t much in terms of
sightseeing and no real point in stopping outside of rest and
resupplies. Wein, however, had business there.
“All righty. How about a messy prebattle skirmish?” Wein asked with
an invincible smile.
Then—
“—I’ve been waiting for you, Prince Wein.”
The king of Soljest, Gruyere, smiled ferociously at Wein, having
arrived at the city earlier.

King Gruyere was the one to propose this get-together.

He was hoping to conduct a secret meeting before their arrival in
Lushan.
Wein had agreed to Gruyere’s suggestion without a second thought.
The Gathering of the Chosen was just ahead, and he was entering
the lair of the West’s most dangerous mortals, those at the pinnacle
of the West. One could not simply walk in and have things go their
way without a single card in hand, so when Wein was offered the
opportunity to earn one in negotiations beforehand, hopping on
board was a no-brainer.
Of course, his negotiation partner was King Gruyere—one of those
high-profile devils. The two had gone to war with each other in the
past. Wein just barely managed to eke out a victory, and the two
countries had established friendly relations afterward, but it
wouldn’t be any surprise if Gruyere secretly harbored less than
cordial feelings. Wein had to approach this with caution.

Page | 43
“—I can’t say I was expecting this,” Wein mumbled in exasperation.
The reason for his annoyance was right before his eyes. The giant
was heartily eating from a lineup of dishes on the table in front of
him.
“What’s the matter, Prince Wein? Why, you’ve hardly touched your
food,” Gruyere commented, promptly downing the wine in his
custom glass, which was three sizes larger than normal—yet
somehow tiny in his hand. “Not feeling well? Or did the fare not suit
your palate? In that case, I can have food from Natra prepared.”
“Please do not fret, King Gruyere. I’m in good health, and the food is
excellent. That said—” Wein began with a wry smile, “I am a bit
surprised. It appears that your body has regained its original form.”
“Oh, this?” Gruyere replied, slapping his potbelly.
Gossips once whispered that Gruyere was as corpulent as a pig, but
he had slimmed down to the point of being unrecognizable, in part
attributed to the stress of losing to Natra. Now that they had
reunited, however, it was evident he was back to his massive self.
“Getting this back took a lot of effort. Maybe it’s because my
stomach got smaller; I dined like a bird. Look, I’ve only eaten five
plates.”
“My, what a display of self-control.”
“Right? People might mistake me for the most pious of devotees
under Levetia.”
“It would be no mistake. If I were to rip open your stomach, I believe
it would overflow not with fat, but the miracles of God.”
“Ohh! In that case, I suppose my meals are offerings to the divine. I
can’t just sit here whining about a small appetite!”
Gruyere gave a hearty laugh as he gobbled up two more servings and
was polishing off a third. He didn’t show the slightest hint of

Page | 44
animosity toward Wein. In fact, one could only say he was in the best
of moods. Their ages were far enough apart to be parent and child,
yet there was camaraderie between the two. From an outside
perspective, any concern that their relationship might sour would be
deemed completely baseless.
—Well, there’s as good a chance as any, Wein thought. While
Gruyere appeared to be all smiles, he was probably cold as an empty
wasteland at night on the inside.
Wein wasn’t being especially the passive type, and neither was
Gruyere. Even if his jubilance was authentic, the king had to be
chatting with Wein and simultaneously plotting his and Natra’s
downfall. Politicians were incorrigible creatures, you see.
“So, King Gruyere. Shall we get to the heart of the matter? I take it
you did not call me here to catch up?”
“I wouldn’t mind some idle gossip if I’m being honest. Talking with a
young man with gifts like yourself is exhilarating… Oh, don’t glare at
me. I do have an actual reason,” Gruyere replied as Wein shot him a
sharp look. “Do you know what sort of discussion will take place at
this Gathering of the Chosen?”
“There will be talk of how to deal with Natra, I presume.”
“Indeed. But that’s far from the only topic on the agenda. There is
also the situation with the Empire, Levetia’s recent expansion into
the East, revisions to our current creed, and much more. In addition,
they’ve invited one more outsider besides you.”
“This is news to me.”
At present, there were six total members of the Holy Elite if one
included the Holy King.
The king of Soljest Kingdom, Gruyere.
The brother of the king of Velancia Kingdom, Tigris.

Page | 45
The prince of Falcasso Kingdom, Miroslav.
The duke of Vanhelio Kingdom, Steel.
The representative of the Ulbeth Alliance, Agata.
And the Holy King who governed over the Holy Elites, Silverio.
These six were the current Holy Elites, and each had the proper
qualifications to match. Aside from Wein, the one other person likely
to join this conference was—
“Could it be…the new ruler of Cavarin, King Skrei?”
“Ah, so you know of him.”
The Kingdom of Cavarin was located south of Natra. The previous
king, Ordalasse, was a Holy Elite and was unfortunately assassinated
by a general in his own army, Levert. The general attempted to place
the blame for the assassination on Natra, but tragically, history has
recorded Levert as beaten by his own game.
Losing both their king and their general left the people—nobles and
commoners alike—concerned about their future, pressures
mounting. The nation was rocked off its foundation, but the matter
had finally been settled in recent days. After a number of political
twists and turns, Ordalasse’s son, Skrei, received the lion’s share of
support.
The situation in Cavarin is still ongoing, however, and Skrei hasn’t
secured his position. I’m sure he’s looking for a strong foothold right
about now.
That was Skrei and Cavarin’s line of thinking. And another
organization was on the same page…
Cavarin faces the central merchant city of Mealtars. In other words,
it’s a strategic entry point for the West. Even Levetia wants to have
some power there.
It was Levetia. As for what might happen if the two got together—

Page | 46
“It’s exactly what you think. The agenda for this Gathering will
include King Skrei’s admission into the Holy Elites. If all goes to plan,
he’ll be welcomed in.”
“How very fortuitous.”
With the power of a Holy Elite, Skrei could exercise his authority over
his unstable nation. And if Levetia made Skrei a Holy Elite, they
would gain influence in Cavarin and the ability to strong-arm the
East.
“The introduction of a new Holy Elite would revitalize the West. At
this rate, it seems that the discussion of Natra will end as a tiny
footnote.”
“A surprising comment, coming from you,” Gruyere said with a
bemused sniff. “Wouldn’t hiding in Skrei’s shadow without anyone
even touching on the topic of Natra be the best thing to happen for
you?”
Anyone with eyes could tell that Natra was toeing the line between
East and West. And naturally, Wein wouldn’t admit a word of this.
“You misunderstand, King Gruyere. I wish to take this opportunity to
be accepted among the Western nations. I would love to contribute
to Levetia.”
“Ha. Sludge would pour out of that stomach if I cut it open,” Gruyere
answered with a grin. “Anyway, that brings us to the topic at hand.
The truth is, Prince Wein, a certain someone asked me to meet with
you today.”
“What…?” Wein frowned, and a knock came at the door as if in
response.
“Come in.” Gruyere beckoned in the visitor before Wein could even
ask for a name, and the door opened.

Page | 47
“We’ve met once already, but it looks like this is our first official
introduction, Prince Wein.”
A man appeared before them. He was a full decade or so older than
Wein, and his robust presence indicated he was in the prime of life.
One could also tell by his energized demeanor and physique that he
was no ordinary person.
Tigris gave a civil bow as Wein stared at him sharply.
“I’m Tigris of Velancia… How about conspiring with me?” the Holy
Elite Tigris suggested with a grin.

“I wonder if my brother is okay…”

Falanya waited in another room of the building while Wein
continued his discussion with the others.
“There is no need to worry. I’m certain Prince Wein will return to us
in one piece.”
Ninym smiled gently next to her. She normally would have
accompanied Wein, but unfortunately, they were in Western
territory. Even a Flahm with dyed hair would be met with
unnecessary trouble if she stood out too much, so Ninym stayed
back with Falanya.
“I have total faith in Wein, of course. But I’m getting a little antsy.
Don’t you feel the same way, Ninym?”
“Well, yes…”
Although he had guards with him, Ninym always felt off when she
wasn’t with Wein herself. In a way, watching over Falanya was a
form of distraction.

Page | 48
As the two fidgeted next to each other, Nanaki stood guard from the
shadows. What are they doing out there? he thought as the door
swung open.
“Pardon all!”
A plucky voice heralded the appearance of a young girl. Falanya
recognized the intelligent-looking face with chestnut hair.
“…Oh, you’re here, too, Princess Tolcheila.”
Princess Tolcheila of Soljest. She was King Gruyere’s beloved
daughter and a character Falanya wasn’t all too sure how to deal
with.
“Aye. Top leaders from every nation are meeting in Lushan during
the Gathering of the Chosen, so Father suggested I introduce
myself.”
Tolcheila plopped down across from Falanya with a buoyant smile.
Although sent to Natra under the pretext of studying abroad, the girl
was essentially a hostage in Natra. Tolcheila, nevertheless, continued
to run around freely and do her own thing. She even visited her
homeland on occasion. She must have recently gone back to join
King Gruyere’s delegation.
“I take it you’re here for similar reasons, Princess Falanya?”
“Yes. After all, my brother is busy with the Gathering of the Chosen.”
“Well then, shall we compete to see which of us can curry the most
favor with the most important members here?”
“…I won’t do such a thing. This isn’t a game.”
“No confidence? Well, with a body like mine, I can certainly
understand why you might turn tail.”
“I am not turning tail! Besides, we have almost the same figure!”

Page | 49
“It appears you’re clueless. There is a difference between being
scrawny and unripened.”
Tolcheila roared with laughter, and across from her, Falanya’s
expression soured. Maybe it was their differing viewpoints or
personalities. Maybe it was shared history from a previous life. At
any rate, Falanya couldn’t see eye to eye with Tolcheila at all.
“Come to think of it, isn’t Prime Minister Sirgis serving you now?”
Tolcheila asked. “I heard he disappeared after Delunio banished him,
and no other country would openly accept him, but to think he’d end
up working for the little sister of the man who brought about his
downfall. Tell me, what tricks did you use to pull him in?”
“I persuaded him through heartfelt sincerity.”
“Sincerity, you say?” Tolcheila repeated, her lips curling. “Don’t you
wonder whether he is being sincere? Couldn’t he use you to
assassinate Prince Wein in his sleep? For any ex–prime minister,
tricking a little girl is child’s play.”
Her tone was scornful.

Page | 50
Page | 51
You’re in over your head. How careless, she seemed to deride
between her spoken words.
If this had been half a year earlier, Falanya would have grown testy
and objected to such accusations. But on this very day and in this
moment, her response was different.
“—I appointed him fully aware of the danger.”
After all, Falanya had steeled herself on the matter, determined to
follow through with it.
“My brother continues to surpass his trials and press onward. I have
to catch up to him. That’s why I can’t afford to stay on the safest or
most reliable path. If I don’t seek out more challenging situations, I’ll
never reach more challenging places.”
“Hmph…”
Tolcheila was slightly daunted by the fluidity of Falanya’s answer.
However, this lasted only a brief instant before she broke into her
usual confident smile.
“Very well, then. In that case, do try not to take a tumble. Pitfalls
often magically appear when and where you least expect them. Your
dear brother, the object of your admiration, should be realizing that
right about now.”
“…What do you mean?”
“Who knows? Well, I’m sure you’ll understand when he gets back.”
Tolcheila’s cheerful grin made unspeakable anxiety spike up inside
Falanya.

Page | 52
“…What’s going on here, Gruyere?”
The Holy Elite Tigris.
Now faced with the unexpected appearance of a major player—one
whom he was planning to meet at the Gathering—Wein looked not
at him but at Gruyere.
“I thought this was supposed to be just the two of us, Gruyere.”
Wein’s civility had vanished, and he didn’t hold back his grievances.
Naturally. Inviting unrelated persons to a meeting without prior
notice was basically an ambush. At this rate, Gruyere had no grounds
to complain if Wein backed out.
“Sorry, Tigris asked me to keep quiet,” Gruyere replied, but Wein
wasn’t convinced.
“You could have mentioned it earlier.”
“It’s my fault, Prince Wein,” Tigris cut in. “In all official capacities, I
am currently at a different transit point. To keep my location secret, I
had to conceal information even from you.”
“There you have it. I admit we weren’t exactly transparent, but we
ask you not to leave just yet.”
“…You owe me one, Gruyere,” Wein grumbled, body language
indicating his reluctance.
Well, I suppose we’re on the same page, he thought.
Contrary to his external attitude, Wein was perfectly calm. In fact, he
wasn’t mad at all, though he had to admit he was shocked. He
considered Tigris’s appearance as an excellent opportunity.
That being said, Gruyere did him a favor by acting out of line. Now,
Wein could wring something out of him by amping up the theatrics
and acting thoroughly dissatisfied. There was a part of him that

Page | 53
wanted to pretend to walk out to see if his opponent would try and
stop him.
Gruyere said he’d been asked to arrange this meeting. And he didn’t
put up a fight to admit fault or resist owing a favor to Natra… That
means Tigris must be offering him something—money or otherwise.
At the same time, it served to show that Tigris was serious about
this—that he wanted to meet Wein in secret using these means.
The Holy Elite Tigris…
The younger brother of the current king of Velancia and a Holy Elite.
His back story was an odd one. Instead of the king, the second-born
prince had the title of a Holy Elite, which was seen as an
authoritative figure. It was like having two kings in the Kingdom of
Velancia.
Was the title bestowed upon him or did he pry it from the king…?
It’s hard to tell just by looking at him…
“What’s wrong, Prince Wein?” Tigris asked with a puzzled look as
Wein pondered in silence.
“…Nothing. I suppose I was just overwhelmed to meet someone as
distinguished as the king’s brother.”
“Ha-ha-ha, what a thing to say. I’m a nobody—a fool—compared to
you and all you’ve been able to accomplish.”
“I refuse to believe that. A fool could never rise to the rank of a Holy
Elite.”
“You’ve got it all wrong. I hate to admit that my brother is a recluse.
He pushed this role on me, annoyed by the prospect of being invited
to conferences for it.”
Tigris continued.

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“Oh, but please don’t take this to mean that my brother and I don’t
get along. I’d say we’re quite close. In fact, our relationship is similar
to the one between you and your younger sister.”
“…I see.”
With Tigris in front of him, Wein could see the confidence in his
every movement, his energy. Like Gruyere, Tigris was an unshakable
pillar, and he didn’t give off a carefree vibe that he would wait
around until something fell into his lap. He did what he needed to
with his own hands. In other words—Tigris and Wein were cut from
the same cloth.
“I understand, Prince Tigris. I believe we’ll get along well.”
“I’m happy to hear you say so, Prince Wein.”
Tensions were so high, you would have thought they were holding
knives at each other’s throats, and yet the two had on mild smiles.
The air between them was so suffocating, anyone with a weaker
constitution would have struggled to breathe, but the giant
observing from nearby was not one of them.
“Watching the youth fight pairs well with any drink,” Gruyere said,
taking a sip of the wine in his hand. “I’m here as a mediator, so allow
me to step in just this once. If the two of you play around too much,
someone like Caldmellia will gleefully take advantage of you.”
The two younger men grimaced. Even if they pushed each other
down, a third party would ultimately profit off them. It would be
juvenile if they remained stubborn, especially when a king warned
them of the obvious.
“…May we discuss the matter at hand, Prince Wein?”
“Yes, by all means.” Wein sighed, and Tigris began his explanation.
“You may have heard this from King Gruyere already. One of the
topics to be addressed during this Gathering is King Skrei’s admission

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into the Holy Elite. To be honest, Levetia thinks this is a bit
premature.”
“What do you mean? Isn’t it critical for Levetia to acquire Cavarin’s
territory?”
“That’s right. It’s the land that’s critical.”
Wein realized what Tigris was getting at. “…I see. As long as Levetia
has influence over its lands, the ruler doesn’t necessarily need to be
the authoritative power of its territory.”
Without its king, Cavarin was on the decline, which meant its
neighbors were preparing to swoop in and conquer it themselves,
rather than reach out to help.
This was no different for the West. Although Levetia united them, it
didn’t guarantee friendship. One might say it was inevitable for them
to seize this opportunity to extort people, resources, and land from
Cavarin.
The biggest concern was the Eastern Empire pouncing on the chance,
but luckily enough, they were preoccupied with a family squabble.
The West could breathe a sigh of relief and flock around Cavarin.
“But now Prince Miroslav of the Falcasso Kingdom has stepped in.”
Miroslav, another one of the Holy Elite. From what Wein had heard,
this man was around his age.
“So the current king of Falcasso gave him the title of Holy Elite?”
Unlike you, Tigris, Wein silently added.
Tigris beamed as if he could hear Wein’s thoughts. “That’s right. The
king of Falcasso is already old, so he appointed the prince as a Holy
Elite to start preparing for the transfer of power.”
“That king is a difficult person. The thought of our many secret feuds
gets my heart racing. Time is a cruel mistress for taking that away
from us.”

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Gruyere seemed to be genuine. Based on Gruyere’s attitude, Tigris’s
story, and the situation in Cavarin, Wein understood one thing.
“—In other words, you both don’t think very highly of Miroslav.”
Gruyere and Tigris flinched—just barely—at Wein’s statement.
Miroslav was as young as Wein. He hardly had any experience in
politics or foreign policy. Even if the transfer of power was inevitable,
the Holy Elites understood this and showed no mercy.
“That was why he approached Skrei. If he joins your ranks, Skrei will
acquire more allies, and your support will mean he can’t go against
Miroslav after he’s appointed, right?”
When Wein pointed this out, Tigris broke into a wry smile.
“Are you assuming we don’t think highly of him? We wouldn’t dream
of disrespecting a fellow Holy Elite. Right, King Gruyere?”
“But of course. As followers of Levetia, we strive to build honest and
sincere connections.”
Wein snorted. They hadn’t corrected him on Miroslav’s goal.
“So,” he said, “the three of us will team up to compete against
Miroslav and Skrei… Is that the main point of this meeting?”
“For the most part,” Tigris replied. “It’ll just be you and me, Prince.
Unfortunately, King Gruyere turned me down.”
Wein glared at Gruyere. “…So King Gruyere isn’t involved in this
discussion? I feel like I need some answers on why he’s allowed to sit
in on this conversation.”
“You don’t have to glare at me. Witnessing this exchange was part of
the deal when I set up this meeting between the two of you.
Consider my lips sealed. I would never do something so boring like
tell anyone else about this.”
“I do believe you on that point, King Gruyere.”

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“……”
Wein looked at Gruyere for a while longer before finally turning back
to Tigris. “…Tigris and I will team up. That’s fine. But what happens
then? I’m just one prince.”
Wein might have been invited to the Gathering, but the Holy Elites
would have the floor. He wasn’t sure he’d be allowed to say anything
at all. After all, these foreign nations had spent the past several years
learning they would get screwed over anytime he was involved.
“I agree it’d be risky for just the two of us. But I’ve actually got
another connection waiting in the wings.”
“Who?”
“I can’t say. Well, not here anyway,” Tigris replied, glancing over at
Gruyere. Even if he trusted the king, that apparently didn’t mean
he’d spill every detail. “If you’re saying you’ll join me, I’ll introduce
you once we arrive in Lushan.”
“And you think the three of us can turn the tables that way?”
“Yes. We’ll push for you to become the next Holy Elite instead of
Skrei and rewrite the balance of power.”
There were currently six Holy Elites. Wein would be the seventh if all
went according to plan. He didn’t know who this coconspirator was,
but if it was another Holy Elite, Wein knew where Tigris’s mind was
at. If three out of seven Elites teamed up, they would have a
substantial amount of power.
“…I get what you’re saying, but there’s one thing I want to check.”
“Ask away.”
“If this works out, what would you think about the relationship
between Natra and the Empire?”

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Of course, their success was purely hypothetical. Pushing Skrei aside
to become a Holy Elite was difficult enough. Even if it wasn’t, the
other Holy Elites would do everything in their power to stop Wein.
This was why the prince wanted to know what came after.
“Well, I would want you to respect the position of Holy Elite,” Tigris
answered.
So basically, to sever all ties.
The Empire was a potential enemy to the West, so it was unlikely the
Holy Elites would welcome him into the fold with open arms, but
Wein had something to say about that.
“Aren’t you being restrictive? Physical combat isn’t the only way to
engage in war. Having a Holy Elite with strong connections to the
East could be useful in a battle of the wits.”
“I admit it could be key. Still, there’s no guarantee this would always
be to our benefit.”
Gruyere smiled with delight as he watched their exchange. Although
both men insisted Wein’s ties to the East would give them an
advantage, Tigris was clearly apprehensive that Wein might use his
connections to betray them.
Prince Wein doesn’t want to take a side, and Tigris wants to crush
any chance of betrayal. No wonder they’re at an impasse. Not to
mention that even if Tigris recognizes the benefits of forming
connections with the East, he doesn’t think we need Natra as a proxy.
Tigris and Gruyere were of the same mind. Natra was a dangerous
partner to deal with. Even if Wein did join them, Natra’s relationship
with the East was their greatest asset. Tigris, however, had no idea
when they might betray the West and toss them aside. So he would
take this advantage away from Natra and make it his own. He
determined this to be the most ideal course of action, and—

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“Ahh, I wonder about that,” Wein said with a smirk. “If you’re
thinking about the future, I’d really say Natra is the better option.”
Tigris and Gruyere caught the meaning behind his words in mere
seconds.
The future? Oh, he’s talking about once the three of them form an
alliance and shift the balance of power among the Holy Elite.
As soon as one of us decides to take that influence for himself, the
other two will be in the way.
If Natra continues to have open relations with the Empire, it’ll be a
source of criticism.
In other words, Prince Wein is saying, Accept my terms now so you
can kill me easier later.
Gruyere couldn’t help but smile, and Tigris groaned under his breath.
“…I see. I can’t give you a definite answer here, but there’s room for
negotiation,” Tigris replied. “And I do know one thing: Partnering
with you is worth my while.”
“Really?” Wein questioned as if testing the waters.
“Of course,” Tigris replied with a self-assured nod.
It was confidence; he knew glory would shine down on him in the
future. No, it was determination that said he would have it served to
him through brute force if necessary. In the words of Gruyere, this
man was keeping a massive beast within him. If Wein could make an
ally out of him, nothing would be more reassuring.
And so, Wein thought, That’s why…

I see why Gruyere is obsessed with him.

Tigris secretly admired Wein. He was still young but mature for his
age—despite a lack of experience. He spoke fluidly and was quick on

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his feet. Most importantly, he didn’t show a shred of timidity even in
the presence of two Holy Elites. Every inch of him emanated a
fierceness that said, I’ll exploit it every chance I get. Tigris liked that
about Wein. He didn’t want submissive mediocrity in an ally. Only
someone with skill that kept you on your toes would win him over.
And so, Tigris thought, That’s why…
“—Okay, let’s shake on it.”
Wein extended his hand to Tigris, who smiled and took it. It was here
that their joint bid for power was formed.
Tigris is strong. There’s no question this man will rise to the top.
Prince Wein is the real deal. If anything, he’ll only get better from
here on out.
Oddly enough, the two had reached the same conclusion.
I know Prince Wein has some kind of grand scheme in mind.
But Tigris’s goals will never overlap with mine.
In that moment, they thought the same exact thing:

Whatever happens, I’ll have to kill this guy in the end—

The meeting would be preserved for future generations in the
historical records left behind by King Gruyere. The united front
between Wein and Tigris, however, would be extremely short-lived.
As the people of successive eras pondered what might have
happened if their collaboration had only lasted longer, their
relationship was dubbed as thus:
An unlucky alliance.

“I’d say that was pretty productive,” Gruyere abruptly remarked.

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He saw Tigris off with Wein as the prince left for his original transit
point to prevent news of their clandestine meeting from leaking.
“You, Tigris, and a mysterious third party, huh? Looks like our
Gathering is going to be quite a show.”
“You’re pretty relaxed about this, Gruyere,” Wein said, glancing at
him. “Do you plan on casting the deciding vote? Don’t forget you’re
part of the Gathering, too. If you watch the rest of us fool around,
you might end up on the menu before you know it.”
These incendiary words deepened Gruyere’s smile.
“In this world, the most rewarding lives get a kick out of putting
themselves on the line. And don’t forget, Prince Wein. The day I pay
you back for my recent failure is sooner than you think—”
And so the meeting came to a peaceful conclusion. The next day,
Wein’s and Gruyere’s parties set out for Lushan, where the beasts
were waiting up ahead, thinking of their secret feud.

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The old capital of Lushan was a city situated in the heart of the West.
It was the location where Levetia, the founder of the religion,
received a revelation from God to embark on a pilgrimage. Obeying
this epiphany, Levetia circled the continent once, spreading God’s
Word and gaining converts. With these new followers, the leader
founded the city of Lushan, which became the crux of the religion. It
was the heart of the Western continent both geographically and
spiritually.
In the present day, Lushan and the surrounding area were treated
not as a part of a country, but as a vicinity directly under Levetia’s
control.
“—The townscape is surprisingly average,” Ninym murmured as she
stared out the window of the swaying carriage.
“Yeah, it’s pretty behind on the times, but it really does feel like your
typical Western city,” replied her carriage mate, Wein.
It wasn’t strange, though. Lushan was the standard for Western
architectural design. In other words, other Western cities were
copies of Lushan, not the other way around.
“The vibe in the city feels different,” Wein pointed out.
“Yes. It’s almost eerily solemn and quiet… Its population is large, but
most of them wear the Circles, and many are pious believers.”
The Circles were a symbol of Levetia that devout followers wore
around their necks. Primarily made of metal, they consisted of two
perfectly round, interconnected circles, each about the size of one’s
palm. One represented God’s completeness while the other

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represented a continent where the word of Levetia reached every
corner.
“From what I can tell, there are just as many pilgrims as locals.
Makes sense since they set up a million roads to make sure these
trips are easy to navigate.”
“Yes, most of the Western nations do have a direct path to Lushan,”
Ninym added.
“That’s because the city doesn’t seem to cultivate many crops. Even
the heart of Levetia is bound to dry up if it’s hard to get through
these parts.” Wein looked at the worshippers outside the window.
“Anyway, it impresses me that they can bear to wear those Circles all
the time. They must have so many knots in their shoulders.”
“Just so you know, you might want to consider wearing one at the
Gathering, too, Wein.”
“…Do they have any light, wood ones?”
“That wouldn’t befit His Royal Highness, now would it?”
Wein grumbled, “Yeah, I guess.” The carriage arrived in the heart of
Lushan. They were greeted by an enormous plaza, and an even larger
building lorded over it.
The Agency of the Holy King. The central pillar of Levetia. All who
looked upon it were overcome with awe by its stonemasonry and an
undeniable presence. Even the palace couldn’t match its
magnificence.
“Well, I better go in the lair of demons for a formal greeting. Ninym,
stay with Falanya at the inn they reserved for us.”
The headquarters of Levetia. Even if her hair was dyed black, this was
no place a Flahm like Ninym could easily enter.
“Be careful, Wein.”

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“If worst comes to worst, I’ll set it on fire and make my escape.”
Wein left Ninym and stepped out of the carriage. Together with
several guards, he entered the Agency of the Holy King.
…Well, would ya look at that.
The place had an austere atmosphere. There was no gold or silver or
lavish ornamentation anywhere to be seen. The ceiling was as tall as
several people, and the cold stone walls that seemingly continued
into forever felt unreal.
It was like being lost in another world.
Streams of people came and went through its doors. They wore
simple habits and silently walked with their heads held high. One
could say they were paragons of Levetia, but their lack of humanity
made them seem more like life-size dolls.
I wasn’t joking when I called this place a “lair of demons.”
Was it always like this, or was it the current ruler’s influence? Just as
Wein realized he’d have to brace himself—
“It’s been quite some time, Crown Prince.”
A chill ran up his spine. When he turned toward the voice, he was
met by a woman standing there with her retinue. She was ravishing.
Her hair shimmered, and her eyes were as deep as the abyss. With
features that were a mix between the charm of a young woman and
the vitality of a little girl, it was hard to believe she was even of this
earth.
“What a surprise…I’m honored Lady Caldmellia would welcome me
herself.”
The director of Levetia’s Gospel Bureau, Caldmellia. A woman who
was a force to be reckoned with, second only to the Holy Elites.
And now, she was standing right before Wein.

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“You are a guest of honor who has kindly accepted our invitation.
Such hospitality is only natural.”
Caldmellia smiled sweetly. From her grin to her gaze, every part of
this woman hid both a mystique and repulsiveness incongruent to
her holy profession.
“Is this your first time visiting Lushan? What do you think of the old
capital?”
“As one might expect of Levetia’s birthplace, it has a stately and
refined atmosphere.”
“Ha-ha. It must seem that way for outsiders, but it’s far more relaxed
than usual. It has been quite a while since the Gathering of the
Chosen was last held in Lushan, and the citizens are in a festive
mood.”
“This is festive? If I were to visit Lushan on a normal day, I fear I
might suffocate from its stiff formalities.”
“You will grow accustomed to it, Prince Wein… At any rate, I’ll be in
trouble if I force our guest of honor to stand around chatting any
longer. Please, come this way. Someone is waiting for you.”
There was no need to ask who that “someone” was. Guided by
Caldmellia, Wein and his guards continued farther into the structure.
“I’m relieved to see you appear no different from our last meeting,
Lady Caldmellia.”
“By God’s good grace, yes—I’m in good health.”
According to records, Caldmellia was over sixty years old, though she
appeared to be in her thirties. Even her twenties wouldn’t be a
stretch. There was talk that this Caldmellia was someone else who
had inherited the name. Either way, the word “monster” fit her
terrifyingly well.

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“Please forgive me if this comes across as rude, but do you have a
secret to good health?”
“By living life. A satisfactory life is the key to youth and vitality.”
“That’s not an answer I would expect from a follower of Levetia.”
“Repressing your needs is not the only way to show loyalty to God.
King Gruyere is a great example of this.”
“…Yes, I see.” Wein found himself nodding as she cited Gruyere’s
paunch. “And what brings you joy, Lady Caldmellia?”
“Guiding lost sheep who have gone astray,” she replied. “It’s fulfilling
when my words set them on the right path.”
“…I’m certain your guidance brings them days of utmost bliss, Lady
Caldmellia.”
“I hope so.”
Their conversation was temporarily interrupted. Cold footsteps
echoed as if manifestations of the air between them. Caldmellia was
the first to break the silence.
“It seems that you have really come into your own, Your Highness.”
“Do you think so? I feel like I’ve been collecting problems since
becoming regent, so I was worried I might be crushed under the
pressure.”
“With your accomplishments, I imagine you’d be able to stand up
straight with pride…though it has inflated your ego.”
“My accomplishments? I’ve just been lucky to keep up with the
times.”
Wein shrugged his shoulders, but Caldmellia shook her head.

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“There are too many people to count who find it impossible to keep
up. Natra is blessed to have you at its head during this tumultuous
time.”
“Well, it’s too early to say whether that is actually a blessing,” Wein
replied. “After all, our time will see even greater turbulence in the
future. Whether I am remembered as Natra’s savior or a quack
doctor who only managed to keep his dying nation afloat a little
while longer…will only be determined once everything is over.”
“I see… You’re quite right.”
“That is to say nothing of the tidal wave approaching us imminently.”
Caldmellia brushed off Wein’s sarcasm with a smile. “Shall I offer a
hand if you’re drowning, Your Highness?”
“While I appreciate the gesture, the waters might suck you in, too.”
“Hee-hee, drowning with you, Prince, might make things
interesting.”
With this, the group arrived at a large door. When Caldmellia’s
subordinate opened it, an expansive room, the throne within it, and
the person sitting atop it came into view.
“—Your Holiness, Prince Wein has arrived.”
Upon hearing her introduction, the figure broke out of a deep
meditation.
This is…
Holy King Silverio. The man sitting at the pinnacle of both the Holy
Elites and the Levetia religion was right there.
“Come forward, Crown Prince.”
At Caldmellia’s insistence, Wein stepped farther into the audience
chamber, mentally taking note of Silverio. From what he could tell,
the Holy King was up there in years. He had a small frame, and his

Page | 68
hands were withered. His eyes were clouded white, presumably from
age, and the cane at hand nearby indicated that his legs were not
what they once were. Wein worried he might be crushed by the
weight of his robes, and his overall impression of the king was one of
frailty.
From what I heard, he’s the type to eat and drink nothing for a
month, praying for citizens who have fallen victim to disaster or
persuading a group of bandits by marching into their den himself. In
fact, there’s talk going around that he’s a puppet and Caldmellia is
behind all this…
Caldmellia walked ahead to stand by the Holy King’s side, and Wein
understood something after seeing them next to each other. On one
side was the youthful Caldmellia, and on the other was Holy King
Silverio, who was more decaying branch than human. Anyone would
agree that it looked like the witch was sucking the life out of the Holy
King.
Wein’s heart didn’t lower its guard for a second, however.
After all, he carries the most precious blood in the entire world.
Compared to most of the other Holy Elites who were royalty, Silverio
was a Holy King who held no secular position. Without the titles of
Holy King and Holy Elite, he would be an average clergyman. Even if
such a thing were to hypothetically happen, however, Silverio would
never be treated like a normal person for the rest of his days. This
was because Silverio was a descendent of Levetia—the founder of
their religion.
I’m not one to talk, but I do find it impressive that this bloodline has
been tracked so meticulously for a century.
To become a Holy Elite, one of the conditions was that one must be
blood-related to either the founder, Levetia, or one of the leading
disciples—people of the distant past. Genealogy was a complex and
obscure matter, and it wasn’t rare for some to use power and money

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to keep this title in the family. A majority of the present Holy Elites
had no definitive proof of their actual blood relations.
Among them, Wein and Silverio were the odd exceptions who could
clearly trace back their roots. Of course, their statuses were worlds
apart since Wein was just a descendent of a lead disciple, while
Silverio was a descendent of their founder.
All generations of Silverio’s family were born, raised, and served as
clergy in Lushan. Many of them were appointed not just as Holy
Elites but later as Holy Kings.

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Page | 71
 If a Holy Elite with a secular position becomes a Holy King, it grants
a substantial amount of power to their home country. It seems like in
many cases, Silverio’s family—who don’t have titles or land—would
become Holy Kings, to prevent a single country from getting an unfair
advantage. As a result, they have produced many Holy Kings.
It was no mistake to think their elevated status was intentional. Wein
himself placed no stock in bloodlines, but he knew the public thought
they were worth something. Silverio’s family must have believed the
same thing. That was why they spent long months and years trying to
increase the value of their blood.
Now standing next to each other was a descendant from this shrewd
family and the witch who relished sending people to their doom.
Anyone who could relax at this point would also probably feel
comfortable napping in front of a starving tiger.
“…It’s an honor to meet you, Your Holiness. I’ve come from Natra to
accept your generous invitation to the Gathering of the Chosen.”
As Wein gave his textbook greeting, he peered at Silverio. The Holy
King gave no reaction. Both his eyes and ears seemed very distant,
and he suddenly turned to Caldmellia and whispered something.
Wein couldn’t catch it, but she gave him a small nod.
“His Holiness welcomes you.”
It wasn’t at all rare for statesmen to maintain a degree of separation
and an air of mystery by refusing to speak directly to their vassals
and citizens. In this case, however, it was likely because raising his
voice was too exhausting for someone Silverio’s age.
It’s hard to get a read on him. I wanna learn more about this Holy
King, but— Wein was deep in thought.

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“The Gathering of the Chosen will commence the day after
tomorrow. Until then, please rest from your travels in the residence
we have provided.”
They were apparently eager to end the conversation, and Wein
mentally clucked his tongue in irritation.
“Thank you for your consideration. Before I take my leave, however, I
wish to confirm something with His Holiness: the true reason I’ve
been called to this conference.”
Wein cut straight to the heart of the matter, but Caldmellia
answered as if she’d been expecting him to bring this up.
“As mentioned in His Holiness’s personal missive, the precursor to
turmoil currently hangs over Varno. We do not know when the
disturbance in the Empire will spread to the West. We wish to
discuss how to deal with this matter during the Gathering and have
thus invited you, Prince Wein, to hear about your insight on the
Empire and seek guidance.”
“…I understand now.” Wein stole a glance at the Holy King once
again, but Silverio didn’t move a muscle. He apparently couldn’t
hope to see any voluntary reactions.
Should I try provoking him…?
He was several steps away from the Holy King’s throne. There were a
limited number of guards. If Wein wanted to, he could get right up in
Silverio’s face. He’d be able to read whether the king took on a look
of confusion, fear, anger—anything.
I can’t secure a disposal method or an escape route here, so it would
be unrealistic to do something about the Holy King, but if I took a step
toward him—
What would happen then?

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As soon as the thought crossed Wein’s mind, a naked blade came at
his throat.
“ !” Wein instinctively took a step back.
“Whatever is the matter, Prince Wein?” Caldmellia tilted her head
with a puzzled expression, and it was then that Wein realized there
was no knife to be found.
You’ve gotta be kidding…
Her presence was so strong that he’d imagined a knife was flying at
him.
It wasn’t Caldmellia who had done this. Wein’s behavior confused
the guards around him. The only one to remain still as stone…was
the Holy King.
Feeling sweat drip down the side of his temple, Wein gave a tight-
lipped smile. “…Worry not. It seems I’m just a bit fatigued from the
journey.”
Holy King Silverio. He was not a foe to be underestimated.
“In that case, you ought to rest at the estate. I shall ready a carriage
immediately.”
“Thank you. It would be unfortunate if I were to catch cold and be
unable to attend the Gathering.”
“Both His Holiness and I look forward to hearing your honest opinion,
Prince Wein.”
“I have nothing to offer, but I shall try my best to meet your
expectations. —Well then, if you’ll excuse me.”
Wein bowed to the Holy King and Caldmellia before turning on his
heel. He soon disappeared behind the door.
“…Mellia.”

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Without missing a beat, Caldmellia waited upon Silverio and strained
to hear his raspy voice.
“Will this individual help our flower bloom?”
“Without question.”
“I see…” Silverio murmured. “A great flower to swallow up this land…
It’s sure to be beautiful.”
“I promise to show it to you, Your Holiness.”
Silverio’s clouded eyes seemed to gaze into the distance, and
Caldmellia gave a respectful bow.

“I just wanna go hoooooooome!” Wein shrieked in one of the rooms

of the manor allotted to him, after safely returning from the Agency
of the Holy King.
“We can’t leave yet. We just got here, and the Gathering hasn’t even
started yet.”
Ninym’s typical dismissal of his comments only encouraged Wein to
continue.
“Obviously! But Caldmellia will always be bad news, and I got a
feeling that the Holy King is, too. With the two of them attending the
Gathering, it’ll spell the worst news of the year! We’ve hit max
suckage levels, and I’m screwed if I don’t show up! What did I do to
deserve this?!”
“I thought I heard you say, Don’t you underestimate me, Caldmellia,
on the way here.”
“Let’s just pretend I didn’t!”
“No take-backs.”
“Gweh,” Wein groaned. “Come to think of it, what’s Falanya up to?”

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“She went to bed early to prepare for the party tomorrow. The
princess is fretting about going in your place and doing a job that’ll
please you.”
Ninym broke into a tiny smile, and Wein grinned wryly.
“She doesn’t have to get that worked up over it. Well, at least
Falanya’s not running into any problems. I can just focus on the
Gathering.”
A knock came at the door. A servant.

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Page | 77
“Your Highness, there is a messenger from Prince Tigris in front of
the estate. He wishes to meet with you.”
Wein and Ninym immediately looked at each other.
“Understood. Let him in.”
It didn’t take long for the servant to return with the messenger.
“I am Fushto. I serve Master Tigris.”
The messenger in front of Wein bowed down. He had to be one of
the people who had waited on Tigris when they met the other day.
“I have come to deliver both a spoken message and a letter to you,
Prince Wein.”
“I’m listening.”
Fushto’s gaze turned to Ninym nearby.
“She’s my Heart. There’s no reason for her to leave,” Wein said.
“My apologies, but Master Tigris’s message is of utmost
importance.”
“Then I definitely need her here.”
“……” Fushto grimaced, and Wein glared at him.
“If you can’t respect my decision, then get out. And tell Prince Tigris
that our alliance is done.”
“…My apologies. I spoke out of turn. Please forgive me.”
Tigris himself might not have had the same reaction, but Fushto was
a servant. When Wein threatened to annul the partnership, the man
had no choice but to comply. Fushto pulled out a letter from his
breast pocket and handed it to Ninym. The wax seal was

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unmistakably Velancia’s, and inside was a message from Tigris and a
map.
“Tomorrow evening, he has arranged for a meeting with a third party
at an abandoned manor outside the city as indicated on the map.
The contents of the letter state the same thing.”
“Oh, this is the individual I’ve been hearing about. Who is it?”
“I’m sorry. I am not privy to that information.”
“Prince Tigris loves secrets, it seems. Anyway, tell him I understand.”
“Yes, of course.” Fushto bowed once and quickly left the room to
report to his master. After they watched him leave, Ninym mumbled
quietly, breaking her silence. “…You didn’t have to be so stubborn.”
“I wasn’t being stubborn. I was stating the obvious.”
This made Ninym look happy but troubled. She coughed and quickly
returned to her normal self. “So you have a secret meeting
tomorrow?”
“Seems that way. Who do you think this third person is, Ninym?”
She thought for a moment. “Most likely another Holy Elite…but it’s
not King Gruyere apparently, and Prince Miroslav is backing King
Skrei, so it couldn’t be him either.”
“And if you take out Tigris, that leaves us with the Holy King, Steel, or
Agata.”
“Since His Holiness already has power, I doubt he’d go along with
such an underhanded scheme. That leaves either Duke Steel or
Representative Agata. You’ve caught Duke Steel’s eye, right, Wein?”
Wein looked queasy. “I’m not thrilled about that, but yeah,
apparently… Ugh, I don’t wanna team up with Steel. Maybe Skrei
came up to Tigris out of nowhere and shook things up.”

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“If we’re just speculating, I wonder if Prince Miroslav will also do
something. He might give up on King Skrei if he’s less compliant than
expected.”
“If he’s looking to replace Skrei, wouldn’t Miroslav come to me
himself? Or maybe he thinks it’ll be hard to back me on his own,
since I’m not someone who abides by the rules like Skrei. In that
case, if we team up… Hmm.”
Wein crossed his arms and groaned. After all, he was up against the
Holy Elites. These guys could put on sunny smiles in front of their
constituents even as a laundry list of machinations were in their
heads. It would be no surprise if someone out of left field was
waiting for him.
“Who do you hope it is?”
“Doesn’t matter to me as long as they’ll hear me out and aren’t a
pain to deal with.”
“And who would that be?”
“No one…”
Her master’s listlessness put a tiny smile on Ninym’s face.
“And what if it was Director Caldmellia?” she asked.
“I’d go home,” Wein answered without missing a beat.
He really isn’t a fan, she thought to herself.
“Well, not even Tigris would think of joining forces with her. It’s hard
to be friends with a person who will never be swayed by logic or
data.”
“Well, at any rate, should we look further into our main suspects—
Duke Steel and Representative Agata—while we wait for tomorrow
night?”
“Sounds like a plan.”

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With Wein’s permission, Ninym quickly set off to gather the
necessary documents.

Early the next morning.

“…Nngh.”
In her room in the mansion, Falanya woke up a bit earlier than usual.
Her waking time wasn’t the only part that was different. It usually
took her a while to shake off the last vestiges of sleep, but the
princess was different today. She smacked her cheeks with both
hands, firmly shrugged off the tempting invitation of her soft bed to
sleep in, and ran out of her bedchamber.
“Good morning, Princess Falanya. You’re looking well this morning.”
“Of course. After all, I have an important job to do today,” she
responded with a proud sniff as her lady-in-waiting helped her get
dressed.
She would be mingling with the continent’s most influential people
in place of her brother. Falanya had enjoyed similar opportunities
since her experience in Mealtars, but she had the same reaction
every time.
“You’ll run out of steam if you get too worked up.”
Once she was dressed and the lady-in-waiting had taken her leave,
Nanaki appeared out of nowhere.
“Don’t worry, I slept well. Nerves and excitement didn’t stop me
from getting a good night’s rest!”
She wasn’t bluffing either. She’d never felt better, and her heart was
burning with passion. Falanya was positive the day was going to be a
great success.

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Nanaki knew she’d crash and burn if she kept this up, even with the
extra sleep. It didn’t pose much of an issue to him, however, so he
stayed silent.
“Important things first, Nanaki: I’d like to confirm the schedule for
today. Let’s go meet Wein.”
“Didn’t you do that last night?”
“Come on.”
She’ll find any excuse to see her brother, Nanaki thought as Falanya
half dragged him.
Just as he approached Wein’s room with the princess, who was on
cloud nine…
“…One sec, Falanya.”
“Huh? What’s wrong?”
Not responding to her questioning looks, Nanaki quietly cracked
open the door to Wein’s room. He stood still for a few seconds
before trying to shut it again.
“What is it, Nanaki?” Falanya leaned on him and tried to peek into
the room. She saw Wein and Ninym, and—
“Should I add dye to the comb before I brush it?”
“Yes, but it might get on your fingers.”
“It’s no big deal. C’mon, Ninym, face the mirror.”
“Okay, okay.”
Falanya could see her brother was reapplying black dye to Ninym’s
hair. The master gathered up his servant’s hair and started to comb it
gently. This was something that would be absolutely forbidden in
public.
“It’d be much faster if I did it myself.”

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“Relax. Let me try it once.”
“Fine…”
Wein, triumphant. Ninym, embarrassed. Falanya had a feeling she
shouldn’t be watching this intimate moment between the two
people whom she so admired, and her cheeks flushed.
“Umm… We probably shouldn’t interrupt them.”
“Good call. Also, you’re heavy, Falanya.”
“Am not.”
As this exchange took place—
“Hey.”
“Mrwagh?!”
It didn’t take long until Wein spotted them.

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Page | 84
“What are you doing over there? Make up your mind. If you’re going
to come in, hurry up.”
“O-okay.”
Wein left no room for argument. Stiff as a board, Falanya stepped
inside. Ninym had already moved from the front of the mirror to a
corner of the room, and she broke out into a tiny smile when she
saw Falanya. The princess whimpered under her breath.
“So do you have business with me this early in the morning,
Falanya?”
“W-well, I thought I should run the schedule by you,” she replied
hesitantly.
Wein nodded. “Okay. I’ll be looking over papers in the manor, and
you’ll be going to the party in my place. Ninym will investigate the
location of the meetup tonight.”
“What meetup tonight?” Falanya asked, tilting her head.
“Ah,” Wein said. “You went to bed early. One of Prince Tigris’s
messengers stopped by yesterday. I’ll be having a chat with a third
party tonight.”
Falanya had also heard that Wein would have a secret meeting with
Tigris at some point, but now that it was upon them, her chest was
heavy with worry.
“Will you be okay, Wein?”
“It might be dangerous, but I’d say it’s worthwhile.”
“I will do my best to confirm nothing suspicious awaits us.”

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Falanya nodded at both of them. They didn’t totally dispel her fears,
but she knew that she could trust them when they had set their
minds on something.
“Well, that’s the gist of things. I made a list of the important people
you might meet at the party, so be sure to review it. Anything else
you’re worried about?”
Falanya shook her head. Wein nodded and stroked her hair.
“I’m counting on you. I’m sure you’re nervous, but I know you’ll do
great.”
“Ah… Of course! I can handle it!” Falanya instantly beamed, and her
energy—once depleted—seemed to spike. I’m an accomplished
princess, she thought.
“So, Ninym, ready to pick up where we left off?”
“Oh, are you sure?”
“Yeah, we were in the middle of things… Hm?” Wein noticed his little
sister fidgeting and looked at her quizzically. “What’s wrong,
Falanya?”
“N-nothing!” Falanya shook her head and latched on to Nanaki’s
arm. “That’s all I have to say, s-so if you’ll excuse me…!”
She raced out of the room like a windstorm.
“…What was that all about?”
Wein tilted his head, and Ninym observed the siblings with a gentle
smile.

—Let’s get this started.

Hours after Wein and Falanya’s touching scene…

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Ninym set out right on schedule and walked through the silent city. A
hood fell over her eyes as she swiftly made her way to her
destination—the secret meeting point. There were any number of
matters that required preliminary inspection, most obviously the
basic route, but she also had to check if there were any traps or
anything strange at the location itself and map out an escape route
just in case.
I think it’s up ahead.
The outskirts of Lushan. Although the town was still sleeping when
Ninym left the manor, she could sense human activity, which
weakened the closer she got to this area.
If I remember correctly, Lushan’s repeated expansion—desperate
to keep up with its development—created pockets beyond the
government’s control. This must be one of them.
Some of these areas became slums and places teeming with ne’er-
do-wells. Even if her hair was dyed black and concealed under a
hood, Ninym was still a Flahm and a woman. To avoid any
unnecessary trouble, she kept a close eye on her surroundings as she
hurried toward her destination.
Eventually, she arrived in front of a large, dilapidated house. It must
have once been a splendid manor, but the wind and rain had left it in
a horrible state. Part of the exterior was charred, and from what she
could tell from the carbonization, the building must have been
abandoned after an accidental fire and never demolished.
At least nothing in its surroundings seems out of place.
Just rocks and weeds. It was obvious the building had been left
uninhabited for a long time. In that case, her next order of business
was checking inside the mansion. Ninym slowly entered the doorless
entrance and surveyed the interior.

Page | 87
 A drafty entrance hall with corridors on both sides, some doors, a
stairway, a chandelier…
The inside was in as bad shape as the outside. There were hardly any
furnishings, and everything left had been partially destroyed. It was
just an abandoned building.
It would be difficult to investigate this place. If it were tidy, anything
suspicious would stick out, but she’d never be able to spot trouble
under debris. Ninym wished she had either more time or more help,
but the secret meeting was in the evening, and mobilizing a large
band was bound to draw attention in this area.
“I can’t just sit around and complain.”
Ninym looked down and spotted multiple human footprints in a pile
of dust. She was experienced enough to pick up the owner’s
intentions from simple tracks. Some sought shelter from the wind
and rain, others came in search of valuable items, and others—like
hers—were the fresh marks of people investigating the manor.
Prince Tigris or the mysterious third person must have scoped this
place out ahead of time.
It made sense now that she thought about it. They must have
struggled with the short time frame and limited help, too. If so, then
Ninym had no choice but to do the same. She picked up the pace and
resumed her search.

As Wein was in the middle of his research, and Ninym was inspecting
the location of the planned rendezvous…
“Haaah…” Falanya let out a pained sigh at the party in a certain
manor.
“Are you okay?” Nanaki asked as he stood at attention by her side.

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“Somehow…but I didn’t imagine it would be this big,” she replied
listlessly.
Parties of different sizes were being hosted throughout the city to
welcome the beginning of the Gathering of the Chosen. Only the
Holy Elites could attend the actual conference, but they also brought
along their chief vassals, who would make good connections for
merchants and other people of status. The objective of the host city
was to entertain these groups who had time to kill during the
Gathering.
Falanya enjoyed their hospitality for the same reasons. As the
younger sister of Wein—the leader of Natra—and a forerunner in
her own right during the events in Mealtars, Falanya had a
reputation that was spreading both domestically and abroad. In light
of this, many of the continent’s most influential people had
approached her, and as a result, she was completely wiped out.
“Umm, I’ve greeted forty…no, fifty people? Their names were…”
Falanya mumbled to herself as she recalled the names and faces of
everyone she’d met. She had eluded the wave of people the second
she had a chance to make her escape and found refuge out on the
empty terrace. There was no time to rest, however. She turned her
mind on full throttle and drove them into her memory.
“Huh? Umm, the name of the thirtieth person I met, the woman in
the red dress, was…”
“Lady Mallory, correct?”
“That’s it!”
The one who answered her question was Falanya’s other attendant,
Sirgis.
“Thanks a bunch, Sirgis. Good memory.”

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“I have memorized most everyone, so call upon me if you need
assistance. I believe it is easier to remember names and faces if you
take note of a unique characteristic of theirs.”
“My brother said the same thing. More information means more
clues, so it’s hard to forget…in theory,” Falanya moaned.
“I am honored to share a similar custom with Prince Wein, as trivial
as this might be. Then again, I myself recognized quite a few familiar
faces.”
Ah, Falanya thought, realization dawning on her.
Sirgis was a former prime minister. If he hadn’t fallen from power, he
would have likely been invited as a guest like Falanya and enjoyed
the attention of the other attendees.
But no one has approached him…
He used to be in a position of power, even if he had been demoted.
It wouldn’t be strange for a close acquaintance to call out to him, but
everyone at the party had their eyes on Falanya.
Sirgis smiled in self-deprecation, seeming to read her mind.
“One is not just their social statue… So what if I may be able to recall
people’s faces? It took me losing everything to realize something so
obvious. I keep confronting my shortcomings every day.”
“…Umm…”
As the sister of the person responsible for his misfortune, she didn’t
know how to respond. Just as she wondered what she should do,
two people appeared on the terrace.
“Ah, here you are, Princess Falanya.”
She straightened her posture, and her eyes widened. “Oh…Mayor
Cosimo!”
“It’s been some time, Your Highness.”

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One of the pair, an older gentleman, bowed politely. His name was
Cosimo, the mayor of the merchant city of Mealtars, which was
located at the center of the continent. Falanya had socialized with
him during her previous trip there.
“Why are you here? We’re in the West,” she asked.
“Ha-ha-ha, if I failed to attend this function, it would tarnish my
merchant name. Other merchants from Mealtars are on their way, it
seems. And I’m officially here on holiday, so there’s no need to worry
about political tensions.”
Mealtars was in Imperial territory, and Mayor Cosimo himself was a
citizen of the Empire. For merchants, however, such logic was
nonsense that would never help make a sale.
“I haven’t seen you in some time, Sir Sirgis. I heard you were
currently serving Princess Falanya; life is full of surprises, I must say.”
Cosimo went to dip his head to Sirgis, but the latter held up a hand in
refusal.
“…I am now just a vassal. There is no need to bow.”
“Why, it’s common for a market price to drop in the world of
business. That’s when a merchant’s eye is tested.”
Cosimo said this with a smile before turning back to Falanya and
indicating the person next to him.
“My apologies for the late introduction. My acquaintance was
searching for you, Princess Falanya, so I brought him with me.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Princess Falanya,” said a young man
with suntanned skin and a kind smile. “I am Felite, the leader of
Patura. Your brother, Prince Wein, previously came to my aid.”
“Oh!”

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Felite of Patura. She had heard the name from Wein. After a series of
twists and turns, her brother had struck up a friendship with him
while visiting the islands.
“I’ve heard about you for some time now, Sir Felite, but I never
imagined we would meet here.”
“Prince Wein has told me about you. You’re as lovely as the rumors.”
Oh, you flatter me, she thought with a sheepish grin.
“Were you also invited to the Gathering of the Chosen, Sir Felite?”
“No, I have come to Lushan to introduce myself as the new head of
Patura. Notable members of every nation have gathered here, so it’s
helpful to speak with them all in one turn.”
I see, Falanya mused in understanding. She had heard his father died
suddenly. His goals seemed to be very similar to her own.
“I would also like to speak with Prince Wein personally. I realize it is
an impudent request, but could you ask if he might spare a few
moments of his time?”
“Ask my brother?”
She couldn’t answer too quickly. Falanya would normally nod and
agree without a second thought, but Wein had to focus on the
Gathering, and it was her job to assist him.
“…I will gladly speak with you first. After all, my brother requested
that I manage his affairs to the capacity I can.”
Falanya’s heart was racing inside. She was pushing herself out of her
comfort zone. But if not here, where would she have the chance to
do such a thing? Falanya had already decided she would no longer be
the girl who only delivered letters to her big brother.
“…I see. It seems I have been rude,” Felite replied and stared at
Falanya for a moment. He then smiled. “My apologies, Princess

Page | 92
Falanya. I will delay the matter no further. It concerns trade between
Patura and Natra.”
It was here that Cosimo, who had been silently observing them thus
far, perked up. “Oh dear, would it be best if I excuse myself?”
“Not at all. This involves the Empire as well,” Felite answered before
continuing. “You are aware that the products Natra purchases from
the Empire are being exported to Patura, correct? These Imperial
wares have become a bit of an issue in our lands.”
“Oh, d-do they have some sort of defect?”
“No, it’s the opposite. The merchandise is of excellent quality.
Because of this, they have earned a good reputation among our
citizens.”
Falanya thought this over for a few moments. “Umm… What might
the problem be?” she asked, cocking her head.
Ever the businessman, Cosimo had years of experience that quickly
led him to the answer. “…I see. This concerns money and distance,
doesn’t it?”
Felite nodded. “The Imperial products are high-grade. It makes sense
that the cost of transporting them—because they are coming from
the Empire through Natra and traveling halfway across the
continent—will be reflected in the price. Even with this in mind,
however, they are so superior that the people demand them
regardless.”
“That…sounds like quite a good thing to me.” Falanya still couldn’t
see the issue, and it was once again Cosimo who explained things to
her.
“Princess Falanya, expensive items are difficult to obtain. There will
be some citizens who don’t have it. If that happened, would they
give up? No, they will think, How can I get it for cheaper?”

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“…Ah.” Realization finally dawned on Falanya. “And Patura has a
poor relationship with the Empire…”
Cosimo continued. “Yes, there has long been animosity between the
two. One might say it’s a result of our historical divide. With Imperial
goods flowing into Patura, however, the people are growing more
fascinated by the Empire, and this barrier is starting to lower.”
“In other words, people might start smuggling goods.”
“Precisely. Our political feud might keep us away, but Patura is a
short distance northeast of Imperial lands. One can import for a
much cheaper price there than via Natra.”
Felite spoke up. “For Patura, our trade with Natra is a symbol of
friendship. I have no intention of disrespecting that. However, the
reality is that we will soon be overwhelmed by smuggled goods and
unable to sell the goods procured through your country. That is why I
wish to discuss how we should conduct business from this point
forward.”
“…Please excuse me for a moment.” Falanya tugged at Sirgis’s sleeve
and pulled him aside. “Sirgis, I have a feeling this is really bad news.”
“Yes, to put it mildly, it will void at least half of the deal Prince Wein
brought back from Patura.”
Wagh! Falanya wordlessly screamed. “Wh-what should we do?!”
“…This situation is far beyond your discretion. For now, let us return
and seek Prince Wein’s opinion.”
“B-but I acted all important while listening to them just now…”
“Princess, acting as a representative is one part of a politician’s job.
However, it is not good practice to meddle with the future of the
nation—just to save face. You must swallow your pride—it would not
look good for you otherwise.”

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Falanya started to say something but stopped herself. She turned to
Felite once more. “…I understand your request, Sir Felite. I wish to
invite you to our current lodgings here once I discuss the matter with
my brother. I believe we will be able to speak more then. What do
you think?”
Felite nodded slowly. “I understand. Please send Prince Wein my
regards,” he said before gently continuing to Falanya, who pursed
her lips. “If I may be so bold, you seem to be wise despite a lack of
experience, Princess Falanya. I’m certain Prince Wein is proud.”
“…Thank you very much.”
Falanya’s heart filled with embarrassment, frustration, and even a
little relief as the man she was supposed to be negotiating with tried
to smooth things over.
Cosimo looked at her as if she were his own daughter. “Well now, it
seems that our discussion here is over. Shall we head back inside?
When you’re as old as I am, even the autumn winds feel cold to the
skin.”
“Yes, let’s. After you, Princess Falanya.”
“Th-thank you.”
Urged on by the pair, Falanya entered the manor once more.
This was no time to be depressed, she scolded herself. There was still
plenty to be done.

She concluded that all investigated areas were free of any traps or
suspicious activity. Of course, it was impossible to check everything.
She was nervous she’d made some oversight, but there was no place
to hide a large group of soldiers or lay a trap at the very least. There

Page | 95
was a chance the rickety house might collapse at a moment’s notice,
though.
After confirming their potential escape route, Ninym wrapped up her
duties and left the ruined building. Wein probably still had his eyes
glued to those documents. I better hurry and help him, she thought
as she went back the way she’d come.
Just then—
“…That’s…”
Just as Ninym was about to enter the more populated part of town,
she spotted human shadows by the wayside.
“Hey, old man, what happened? Cat got your tongue?”
“Fork over your stuff, already.”
A finely dressed old man was being harassed by two men.
“……”
Drawing attention to herself was a bad idea. She had an urgent job
to do. They weren’t even paying attention to her. So—
“I guess there’s not much choice.”
Right then and there, Ninym decided to carry out a very conspicuous
ambush.
“Aaaargh?!”
Approaching the men wordlessly from behind, she grabbed one’s
arm and twisted it violently.
“Ow! Th-the hell?”
As soon as the man’s eyes widened in confusion over what had just
happened, Ninym swiftly took out her knife and pointed it at his
neck.
“Don’t resist.”

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Sensing the cool metal against his neck, the man forgot the pain in
his shoulder and gulped. Once he was under control, Ninym turned
to glare at the other man. “Step away from the gentleman.”
“D-damn you…!”
“I told you to step away. Do you want your friend to die?”
Her forceful tone caused him to recoil, and he took one, then two
steps away from the elder. Ninym pushed aside the man that she’d
fixed her blade on and stepped between the two parties.
“Leave. There will be blood if you don’t.”
“Ngh. Y-you…”
“Let it go. She’s no amateur.”
Even fighting two against one didn’t guarantee their victory. And
even if they did win, Ninym was right: Blood would be spilled. It
wasn’t like she had the mettle to tolerate punks who tried to attack
the old man and rob him of his possessions. The men spat verbal
venom at her as they backed away.
When the two had completely disappeared, Ninym finally dropped
her guard. “Are you hurt?”
The elderly man shook his head. His filmy white eyes turned to
Ninym, and he slowly nodded. “…Because you stepped in. You have
my thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” she replied. “It seems this place is lawless. I
apologize if I’m just being paranoid, but I suggest you avoid walking
by yourself.”
“…I stroll these areas around this time each morning, though I
normally take the less-traveled paths.”
“I see. It seems your spontaneity has led to a bit of bad luck.”

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“No, that’s not it.” Power seeped into his voice. “I am never
spontaneous. I did use a different road than usual today, which
caused me to be stopped by those hooligans when you appeared…”
The old man closed his eyes, seemingly lost in his thoughts. Just as
Ninym wondered what she should do, he spoke to her.
“Don’t you have a duty to fulfill? Go on. Someone is coming for me
shortly, so there is no need to worry.”
“…In that case, I will take my leave. Pardon me.”
Although she wasn’t fully satisfied, Ninym couldn’t deny she had
matters to take care of.
The old man called out to her, and she turned on her heel.
“Those who stir storms are not alone. Do beware. Disaster is soon
upon us—”

“Hmm, what a strange old man.”

Wein seemed indifferent after Ninym told him what had happened.
“You don’t really seem to care.”
“Well, we are on the home turf of the biggest religion on the
continent. They’ve got quacks in spades. Plus, you’re not hurt… For
me, the bigger problem is what Falanya told me about Felite.”
“I think it’s unfair to say ‘quacks’ rule this town… Anyway, I’m
worried about the issue with Patura, too.”
Wein groaned as Ninym nodded next to him. “I understand what he’s
asking and how we got to this point, but what am I supposed to
do…?”
“I admit it’s troubling. But Wein…” Ninym pointed in front of her.
“You should be focusing on this right now.”

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It was nighttime. They were standing in front of the abandoned
building Ninym had investigated early that morning. Wein, Tigris, and
a third person were about to have their secret meeting.
“You’re right, Ninym. This is just as important,” he replied.
“We have been expecting you.” From the darkness emerged the face
and voice of Tigris’s servant, Fushto.
“Where’s Tigris?”
“He is farther inside. There is also one more attendee,” he said.
“Master Tigris insists you enter the manor alone. Your guard must
wait outside.”
Ninym scowled at this demand, but Wein stayed her with his hand.
“All right, I’m fine with that. Lead the way.”
Wein left Ninym—stewing in displeasure—and entered the derelict
building alone.
The inside was dim. There wasn’t a single lit candle in the room; the
moonlight peeking through the holes in the walls provided some
illumination. The shadows of the key figures, however, were
nowhere to be seen.
“Tigris?” Wein called out into the darkness. After a moment, a reply
came from above.
“Hey there, Prince.”
Wein looked up and spotted a second-floor mezzanine. Tigris’s head
appeared from over the edge of the corridor.
“What are you doing up there?” Wein asked.
“Our third member is being a little stubborn. I was trying to persuade
them.”
“‘Persuade them’? Of what?”

Page | 99
“To be honest, even though you and I are on the same page, this
individual is the cautious type.”
“…Wait. Are you saying you haven’t finished negotiating with them
this late in the game?”
“Hey, at least they’re here. I can tell it’ll take one last push. Just wait
a minute, I’ll bring ’em out soon.”
As if running away from the complaints Wein was about to unleash,
Tigris’s head instantly vanished. Left alone in the dark, Wein had no
choice but to wait in dissatisfaction.
Then, a while later…
“Hm?”
He thought he heard a commotion from above. Just as he looked
toward the source, a strange noise echoed over his head—the sound
of something crashing with the rusty chandelier hanging from the
ceiling.
“Wha—?”
The chain of the chandelier snapped in front of Wein and came
crashing to the ground. The chains clanked. Dust kicked up. Glass
shards sliced across the moonlight and twinkled like stars. When
everything had settled, Wein’s eyes immediately shot open.
“Tigris…?!”
There splayed on top of the fallen chandelier lay Tigris’s body.
“Hey, are you okay?!” Wein rushed over to him and grabbed his
shoulder. Moments later, he froze.
There was blood.
Even in the darkness, he could clearly see Tigris was losing blood. It
stained his clothes, and his body looked as if he were being
swallowed up by the night.

Page | 100
It didn’t take long for Wein to discover he was dead. The cause of
death was either blood loss from the laceration in his neck or the
knife stabbing through his heart from the back. The man’s lifeless
eyes gripped his chest tightly, and Wein was forced to accept that he
was now a silent corpse.
“Your Highness! What happened?!”
Hearing the commotion, Ninym and Fushto came flying in. Their eyes
shot open when they found Wein and Tigris, fallen on the ground.
“Your Highness! Are you hurt?!”
“Master Tigris?! Wh-what’s going on?!”
Ninym ran to Wein and Fushto to Tigris. Upon confirming the
conditions of their two masters, their expressions were direct
opposites of one another.
“Wh-what happened here…? Wh-why did this…?” Fushto’s lips
trembled. Grief and confusion had set in his eyes, but his face soon
twisted to one of rage.
“Prince Wein! What’s going on?!”
It was a natural reaction, but Wein could only shake his head.
“Calm down. I don’t know what’s going on either.”
“How could you not know?! Master Tigris is dead! And you say you
don’t know?!”
Fushto tried to close in on him; Ninym stepped between them. Sweat
beaded on her temple.
“Sir Fushto, please do not approach Prince Wein any closer or I will
have to restrain you.”
“Know your place, woman! Prince Wein! Answer me! What
happened here?! Is this your doing?!”

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“Stand back, Your Highness! Sir Fushto, if you take so much as one
more step, I will consider you an enemy…!”
“Quit it! Now’s not the time for that!” Wein was shouting to pacify
the two when…
“—No one move!”
The three all looked toward the manor entrance. Standing there
were several dozen armed men. They weren’t rogues; each wore the
same matching uniform.
“We are the defense force of Lushan!” one man announced. “We
received a report that suspicious figures were spotted in this area!
Resistance is futile! Follow our orders!”
“ Ngh.” Wein looked uneasy.
The secret meeting. Tigris’s sudden death. The calculated
appearance of Lushan’s guards. By this point, there was no room for
doubt.
This was a setup—!
As soon as this thought struck him, Wein came to a decision.
“Ninym!”
“This way!”
Instantly understanding what he wanted, Ninym launched herself off
the ground. He followed her deeper into the building without
hesitation.
“Wait! Where are you going?!”
“You won’t get away! After them!”
As the voices of Fushto and the guards called out from behind, the
two bounded farther into the shadows.
“Shit! Why’d this happen?!”

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“It looks like you’ve been tricked, Wein…!”
“Yeah, no kidding!”
If this was a trap, they had to avoid getting caught at any cost. And
even if they did manage to escape, the situation was guaranteed to
go from bad to worse.
After taking this all into account—Wein unveiled an arrogant smile.
“I don’t know who’s pulling the strings, but I promise I’ll get even
with the mastermind…!”

The Holy Elite Tigris was assassinated.

Even though an official announcement was never made, rumors
spread through the city like wildfire. Why? Who? How? —
Speculations squirmed like a living creature, and overnight, Lushan’s
celebratory mood as it awaited the Gathering of the Chosen was
replaced by a city crawling with dark whispers.
Of course, there were those who laughed off the rumors.
Nonetheless, when they noticed the castle gates blockaded by
guards and the heightened security around the manors housing the
leaders, starting with Tigris’s estate, they had to admit something
was going on.
“Tell me this isn’t so…”
It didn’t take long before the gathered leaders in Lushan heard about
Prince Wein’s involvement in Tigris’s death.
“Father! I have urgent news!”
One such person, Tolcheila, received a report from her subordinate
and wasted no time rushing to tell Gruyere.

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“Prince Tigris has been killed, and they say it was Prince Wein’s
doing!”
“I know.” Gruyere sat in a room of his manor and greeted the
flustered Tolcheila with a tiny smile. “He just told me himself.”
“Huh?” Tolcheila stared at him blankly before noticing a figure sitting
there. Her eyes widened with recognition. “P-Prince Wein?!”
“Ah, Princess Tolcheila. What a coincidence.”
It was, without a doubt, Wein Salema Arbalest in the flesh. How
could he call this a “coincidence”? He was the criminal wanted
throughout Lushan for Tigris’s murder. He stood at the very center of
this scandal. Why would he come to their manor?
“He sought refuge here last night. Said to call it payback for the other
day,” Gruyere said, sensing Tolcheila’s doubt. “I accepted without
any idea about what was going on. Who would have thought you
were caught up in such a mess? I would have kicked you out if I’d
known.”
“IOUs are a man’s best friend.”
“Hah, negotiating with you comes with deadly consequences,”
Gruyere replied with a laugh. “So did you do it?”
“I would never.”
Gruyere gazed up at the ceiling, appearing bored. “I thought you
might have offed Tigris since you’d clash in the future anyway.”
“I’m not that aggressive, King Gruyere.”
“Oh? Didn’t you get rid of Ordalasse of Cavarin?”
“Quite an accusation. Wasn’t it officially determined that General
Levert did the deed?”
The two spoke casually, except the atmosphere was anything but.

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Tolcheila stepped in. “If the prince didn’t slay Tigris, then who did?”
“An excellent question. The biggest suspect is the third person who
was present, too.”
The third party whom Tigris had invited to the deserted house. One
person was the murder victim and the other was Wein, so presuming
the final individual was the culprit made perfect sense.
“Who could they be…?” Wein wondered with a frown.
Across from him, Gruyere groaned. “You never found out who it
was?”
“No, but from Tigris’s attitude, they were apparently at the scene.”
“Sounds like you’ve got it rough,” Gruyere commented. “You’re free
to hide here, Prince Wein, but don’t hang around forever. I just got
word that the Gathering will be postponed, but that’ll be a few days
at most. If you don’t find Tigris’s real killer before then…”
“I’ll become the criminal.”
“Exactly.”
After all, a Holy Elite invited to the Gathering of the Chosen had died
in Lushan. If they weren’t careful, it might bring on more chaos: like
Tigris’s homeland of Velancia separating from Levetia or rising in
revolt. From Levetia’s perspective, they had to publicly blame
someone—guilty or not—and stamp out those sparks.
It would be easiest for them to pin the blame on me, since I’m the
closest thing to a prime suspect. Claiming I killed a Holy Elite would
give them an opportunity to strike at Natra.
To put it mildly, he was in trouble. And since Wein had only a few
days to turn things around, this was doubly true.

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“…I’d like to ask a few questions for reference. Can you think of
anyone among the Holy Elite who bore a grudge against Prince
Tigris?”
“I can. Knowing probably won’t help on your quest to find your third
person, though. Miroslav of Falcasso is one. He lost many of his
soldiers after Tigris placed his men along the border of their two
nations. It seems a treaty between Tigris and Agata of the Ulbeth
Alliance has become strained, and apparently Tigris was trying to
distance himself. There were rumors that he’d been secretly
associating with the king of Vanhelio, who doesn’t think too highly of
Steel.”
“It seems like Prince Tigris was spreading himself thin…”
“He couldn’t keep a tight rein on the beast called ambition. I could
have watched him forever, personally.” Gruyere chuckled. “The Holy
Elites are basically tied together. Agata keeps Levetia in check so he
can control the Alliance and is in constant disagreement with the
Agency of the Holy King. Miroslav’s predecessor was a capable
leader, so now he’s met with opposition from every corner. You
know, I’ve had diplomatic relations with the Vanhelio Kingdom in the
past.”
For both emotional and national interests, the Holy Elite were seen
as a unit from the outside, but they were eager to crush one another
at the first opportunity. Gruyere was saying that was what it meant
to be a Holy Elite.
This isn’t going to be easy, Wein thought.
As if reading his mind, Gruyere continued, “Just so you know,
harboring you is the only help you’ll get out of me.”
“I understand. That’s not to say you aren’t up for making a deal, I
take it?”

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“If you can make it worth my while. Even I don’t enjoy loaning money
to a sinking ship.”
“Well then, what may I ask would be worth your while, King
Gruyere?”
Gruyere thought this over for a few seconds before looking at
Tolcheila. “I guess I’d lend a hand if you agreed to marry Tolcheila.
How about it?”
“Let’s forget this conversation ever happened.”
Gruyere could hardly contain his laughter as Tolcheila glared at
Wein.
“Prince Wein, do you detest me that much?”
“No, not at all. It’s just that I refuse to have King Gruyere as my
father-in-law.”
Unable to hold it in any longer, Gruyere slapped his belly with a loud
guffaw.
“…You’ve secured your spot as my greatest adversary,” Tolcheila
snarled.
“It’s fun to watch the trials and tribulations of youth, but there’s no
greater pleasure than undertaking your own. Go on, Tolcheila. I’m
ready at any time.”
Giving the father-daughter pair a side glance as they jokingly fought
each other, Wein stared out the window.
I wonder how many clues I can gather in the time I have left…
That would all depend on his Heart secretly running across Lushan.

“—How’s the situation looking?”

Page | 107
In a corner of one of Lushan’s multitude of empty alleyways, two
hooded figures stood concealed within the shadows.
“His Highness is safe. He’s currently staying at the manor for the
representatives from Soljest.” Ninym’s red eyes peeked out from
under her hood. “What about you, Nanaki?”
“Everyone’s pretty much a mess—especially Falanya. Can’t blame
her, though,” said the other figure. “I’m sure she’ll calm down once I
get back and tell her Wein’s fine. That’s only a temporary fix. The
manor is surrounded by guards, and no one can enter or leave. If this
keeps up, they’ll explode sooner or later.”
Having their master suspected of murder and being put under house
arrest in an unfamiliar foreign country put a substantial amount of
stress on the hearts and minds of the delegation.
“Then we’ll have to resolve this as quickly as possible…but we still
don’t know who the third person is,” Ninym remarked.
“I have a couple questions about that.”
“I’m listening. What?”
“First, the guards moved way too fast. It felt that way when our
manor was surrounded, but they also blockaded the city and stopped
people from getting in or out in that same amount of time. They said
it was to prevent the murderer from escaping, but it seemed like
they’d prepared ahead of time.”
“There is a chance that they’re simply efficient…but it is worth
noting.”
“I also did some digging before we met up and confirmed the
locations of three of the Holy Elites on the night of the murder:
Gruyere, Silverio, and Miroslav.”
“What did you learn?”

Page | 108
“I confirmed that Gruyere was at a party, Silverio at a ceremony, and
Miroslav went to King Skrei’s manor. However, there’s a chance that
Miroslav snuck out.”
“If we include Prince Miroslav, the remaining suspects are him, Duke
Steel, and Representative Agata. Someone had to be in the
abandoned building at that time. Furthermore—” Ninym took a
cylindrical object out of her breast pocket. “I found this when I snuck
inside. What do you think, Nanaki?”
“…Is it a knife sheath? It’s covered in dry blood… This carved
symbol…”
“Belongs to the Ulbeth Alliance,” Ninym finished. “It’s the emblem of
Agata’s city.”

Ever since she lost track of Wein’s whereabouts, the word “calm”
had vanished from Falanya’s vocabulary.
“Urghh…”
Moaning like a small animal, she wandered around her room like a
ghost, sat down, thought for a minute, stood up, and paced the room
again. She repeated this pattern, but it did nothing more than kill
time. The delegation who saw her tried offering words of
reassurance to set her mind at ease, but to no avail.
“Sirgis, isn’t Nanaki back yet?” she asked.
“I have not received any word,” he answered in a matter-of-fact
tone.
“I see,” Falanya mumbled and continued roaming around the room.
Sirgis observed her—and abruptly let out a quiet sigh.
“I thought you might return to your senses in due course, but it
appears that is not the case.”

Page | 109
“What was that? Did you say something?”
Irritation sparked in his master’s gaze, but Sirgis boldly pressed on.
“Regrettably, Your Highness, fret here all you like, but it will have no
effect on Prince Wein’s return.”
“Hey…!” Falanya nearly lashed out at him. She swayed into a nearby
chair. “…I know that,” she replied. “Are you saying I can’t worry
about my brother?” she persisted with a pained expression.
“That’s right,” Sirgis shot back without a shred of mercy. “It may be
virtuous when the townspeople are overcome with worry for their
family and pray for their safety. You, however, are the princess of a
nation, and now that Prince Wein is missing, you are the
representative of this delegation. If you wish to follow through on
your desire to support him, you must take up the task of leading our
people here.”
“………”
His word pierced her heart. The silence stretched on. He, too, said
nothing and continued to wait for the young girl sitting in front of
him to take a new step forward.
“…Sirgis, please give me your opinion. What should I do? Give me the
details.”
Her question was that of a representative, and Sirgis gave a reverent
bow.
“First, you should take a warm, wet cloth and wipe your face. After
that, please speak with each member of our delegation. A few words
from you will unify everyone and allow us to face this dilemma.”
“…Yes, you’re right. I can’t let them see me like this.” Falanya smiled
meekly. It was a grin that showed she was ready to take this on. “I
must ready my hair and clothes. Sirgis, please call the maids.”

Page | 110
“Understood.” Sirgis accepted Falanya’s orders and left the room. He
muttered to himself as he walked down the corridor.
“…To think I would be instructing children.” He broke into a self-
deprecating smile, but it was quickly overshadowed. “Our problems
start here. I wonder if that prince can turn the situation around…”
If the prince failed to return safely, even the princess’s resolve would
crumble like sand. Of course, as he said a short while ago, no amount
of worrying would change the situation.
Even so, Sirgis hoped the situation wouldn’t leave the princess in
tears.
Two days later, it was announced that the Gathering of the Chosen
would resume.

Deep within the Agency of the Holy King was a residence for royalty.
The reception room inside it was perfectly round, and a circular table
was set in the center. These two circles represented the symbol of
Levetia. Since time immemorial, the villa had served as a customary
meeting place for the Holy Elites.
There were currently seven people sitting around the table.
King Gruyere of Soljest Kingdom.
Prince Miroslav of Falcasso Kingdom.
Representative Agata of the Ulbeth Alliance.
Duke Steel of Vanhelio Kingdom.
Holy King Silverio.
Next to the Holy King, the director of Levetia’s Gospel Bureau,
Caldmellia.
And next to Prince Miroslav, the king of the Cavarin Kingdom, Skrei.

Page | 111
The leaders of the West had come together for the Gathering of the
Chosen.
“—Welcome, everyone, I thank you for attending.” Even in the
spacious hall, Caldmellia’s voice cut through the air like a knife. “I
know we have had a bit of an accident, but I am grateful to have the
chance to conduct this Gathering of the Chosen as the director of the
Gospel Bureau.”
The Holy Elites were apathetic.
“You’re really going to call the death of a Holy Elite a little accident?
Do they make you throw out all sanity and common sense when you
become the director?” Miroslav asked with dripping sarcasm.
“It’s the Gospel Bureau that is responsible for governing Lushan. You
shouldn’t diminish the death of a Holy Elite, Caldmellia.”
Gruyere followed up on Miroslav’s comment and gave her a
challenging look. However, it would take more to shake Caldmellia.
“But of course. I feel as if Prince Tigris’s untimely passing in Lushan
was my own personal failing. It pains me. However—if I may be so
bold—such a matter is trivial compared to this Gathering of the
Chosen.”
The eyes of the Holy Elite narrowed.
“What do you mean by ‘trivial,’ Lady Caldmellia?” Agata questioned.
Caldmellia offered an explanation. “As you all know, things are
strained throughout the continent. Starting with the upheaval in the
Empire, the embers of revolt now smolder in every nation. We
cannot ignore the influence of the Eastern Levetia. That is why I
believe the importance of our roles is unprecedently high.”
“…So you’re saying that the direction of this Gathering supersedes
the life of a Holy Elite?”

Page | 112
“Precisely, Sir Agata. All Holy Elites dedicate themselves to the good
of the people. Holding the Gathering of the Chosen is an act more
important than fussing over this empty chair.”
““………””
The Holy Elites remained silent. If they tossed out an immediate no
here, it would look like they were prioritizing their own lives over the
people’s. Everyone knew that wasn’t a great road to head down.
Caldmellia must have been expecting this reaction; she was beaming.
“Besides, we have an idea of who Prince Tigris’s murderer is.”
“…You mean the rumors about Prince Wein, right?” Steel asked
dejectedly. “Could he really have killed Prince Tigris with his own
hands?”
Miroslav scoffed. “He fled the scene, didn’t he? Plus, he’s still at
large. How would claiming he’s innocent make any sense?!”
Agata quietly groaned. “…I’ve heard that no eyewitnesses caught him
in the act, but what exactly happened, Lady Caldmellia?”
“You are correct, Sir Agata. From the account I have heard from
Prince Tigris’s subordinate, Prince Tigris and Prince Wein met in an
abandoned building, and the servant raced inside when he heard a
strange noise. When he arrived, he found Prince Tigris dead and
Prince Wein next to him.”
“Then the writing is on the wall!” Miroslav exclaimed. “It seems like
the two were up to no good. Things fell through, and one ended up
killing the other. That’s it. Let’s just hurry up and get on with the next
topic!”
It was here that Gruyere interrupted with a smirk.
“The prince of Falcasso seems to be in quite the rush. It sounds to
me like arguing it further might be inconvenient for you.”

Page | 113
“Wha…?! Don’t be stupid! I’m saying we should talk about other stuff
that actually matters instead of wasting our time stating the obvious!
Or does the Beast King of the North not understand human logic?!”
“Do one of these topics you find so significant involve King Skrei
sitting next to you? Ah, it’s so tragic. Rather than mourning the death
of a comrade, your biggest concern is filling his seat.”
“Ngh, damn you…!” Miroslav began to argue, but Steel voiced a
theory of his own.
“I wish to discuss it a bit further, too. Although Prince Tigris did not
understand the arts, his soul was powerful. How was his glimmer
stolen? How was it broken? If I can discover this, ah, I’m certain it
will benefit my artistic process…!”
“…But even if we discuss it, what clues do we…”
As Agata spoke, Gruyere broke into a wide smile. “Don’t worry on
that point. It won’t be long.”
“Long before what?”
As the Holy Elites frowned, Holy King Silverio, who had been silent up
until that point, suddenly turned toward the hall entrance. The door
was pushed open, revealing a single person.
“—Oh, wonderful. Everyone’s here. I have had the pleasure of
meeting several of you before but allow me to introduce myself
again.”
With all eyes on him, their visitor grinned.
“I am the Crown Prince of Natra, Wein Salema Arbalest… I apologize
for being late, but I am here to attend the Gathering of the Chosen.”

Wein should be showing up at the Gathering right about now.

Page | 114
Ninym let out a small sigh as she watched the Agency of the Holy
King from a corner of an alley.
I’ve been collecting as much information as possible for the past
several days and concluded the third person is almost certainly Agata…
I just haven’t been able to find any damning evidence.
At this rate, it would be difficult to justifiably denounce him. Their
last option depended on Wein allying with the Holy Elites, the most
powerful figures in the West. They could make miracles happen. At
the Gathering of the Chosen, the truth meant little. Everything
depended on profit.
Ninym could only pray that Wein would demonstrate his knack at
tricking others and lead them to the wrong conclusion.
But… Ninym recalled something that happened when the two had
parted. After examining the information she’d gathered, Wein had
asked her a single question.
I wonder why he asked that.
It was still a mystery to her. What value was there in that piece of
information?
He’d asked, “How far was the hanging chandelier from the hallway
on the second floor?”

Wein had appeared out of nowhere. Miroslav was the next to react
after Silverio.
“Bastard! How dare you show your face around here! Guards! Arrest
him!”
As Miroslav tried to call for soldiers in a hoarse voice, Wein raised his
hand in objection.

Page | 115
“Ah…Prince Miroslav, right? I regret to inform you that you don’t
have the power to mobilize soldiers here. And your orders to restrain
me would be unfounded, I might add.”
“Wha…?!”
“After all, this is the Agency of the Holy King, and the ones in charge
are either the Holy King or the director of the Gospel Bureau. Plus, I
was summoned to the Gathering of the Chosen by the Holy King
himself and have confirmed the invitation still stands. Any
problems?”
“Your invite is still valid,” Caldmellia said with a wry grin. “So that’s
why you’re here. It makes perfect sense. At the same time, you are a
prime suspect in the murder of Prince Tigris. What do you think of
that?”
Wein looked innocent as he seated himself at the round table. “It
seems that there is a terrible misunderstanding going around. I’m
shocked that would happen right before the Gathering.”
“A misunderstanding? A misunderstanding, is it?!” Miroslav snapped
at Wein. “Prince Wein! Are you denying you killed Prince Tigris?!”
“Of course. I just happened to be there when he died. I wouldn’t
dream of killing him.”
“Then answer me this! Who besides you could have killed him?!”
“That is—”
Wein looked over at Agata. As soon as that gaze fell on him, Agata
froze as if pinned down. Satisfied by this reaction, Wein finished his
thought.

“An Imperial assassin, of course.”

Page | 116
“—An Imperial assassin, of course.”
When Agata heard Wein, he was more confused than relieved.
Did he realize that I’m the third person…?
The one whom Tigris had invited to meet in the abandoned
manor…was Agata. Although the guards had focused on Wein and
he’d just barely been able to make his own escape, it wasn’t like
Agata had been able to cover up every shred of evidence. He thought
that his cover would be blown if anyone did a bit of digging. That was
why he had carefully crafted an excuse to use if he came under fire.
Agata never expected to hear speculation that the Empire was
involved.
…No, that’s not it.
Wein’s piercing gaze. The prince had to know he was the third
person. But then why—
…Did he realize that, too?!
Agata watched Wein smirk.

Yeah, that’s right.

Wein was certain now.
Even if the third person was Agata, there’s a chance that someone
else killed Tigris…!
Wein had felt something was off from the very beginning. Whoever
the third person was, if they were going to secretly meet in an
abandoned building, Tigris would have taken every precaution to
guarantee his safety. And yet, he’d been ruthlessly killed. That could
have never happened unless he was completely unguarded.

Page | 117
Moreover, a meeting between three people was the worst time to
commit a crime. If, say, Wein had died, then either Tigris or Agata
would be under suspicion, and if Agata had died, Tigris and Wein.
Anyone who didn’t die would automatically be presumed guilty. The
secret died with Tigris, but if Wein somehow implicated Agata or
gave a statement, he could quickly have him arrested. It would have
been easier for Agata to meet with Tigris alone and kill him then.
Thus, this gave birth to a new possibility: An uninvited fourth person
had been there.
“First, let me explain what I was doing inside a dilapidated manor
that night.” Keeping his inner thoughts to himself, Wein turned to
the Holy Elites. “Before the Gathering of the Chosen, I had plans to
attend a secret meeting proposed by Prince Tigris. His subordinate
can attest to this.”
Miroslav glowered at Wein. “And what were you going to talk
about?”
“I’m not actually certain myself, but he did inform me that a third
party would be attending. I’m afraid I was never given a name,
however.”
“You waltzed right into a meeting you knew nothing about? Hmph,
Prince Wein—for all the praise I’ve heard about him—is more
careless than I thought.”
“Ah, well, yes. I wouldn’t have been falsely implicated if I hadn’t
gone. I regret that.” Wein brushed off Miroslav’s sarcasm with a
shrug. “Let’s return to the subject at hand. I arrived at the manor at
the proposed time. From atop the second floor, Prince Tigris told me
he would bring down the third member and disappeared from sight.
As I was waiting for him to return, Prince Tigris’s dead body tumbled
down from above.”

Page | 118
Steel raised his hand. “Prince Wein, were you able to confirm the
identity of the third person?”
“Regrettably, my only thought in that moment was to run toward the
prince.”
Miroslav was ready to pounce. “What a convenient excuse! Are you
sure this third party even exists?!”
Caldmellia stepped in. “We have verbal testimony from Prince
Tigris’s subordinate about that. Are you saying, Prince Wein, that this
person was an assassin from the Empire?”
“That is correct.”
This was, of course, all a lie. There was no Imperial assassin in the
manor. The fourth member was, without question, a subordinate of
a Holy Elite. And Wein knew the goal of whoever had sent them.
To kill one out of the three.
There was probably some degree of priority, but it didn’t matter
much. After all, the mastermind considered all three of them to be a
nuisance. That said, they couldn’t get rid of them all. Doing so would
create more problems. And so they decided to kill one, have the
other two framed for murder, and watch them crush each other. It
didn’t matter who was convicted, because the fourth person would
profit either way—
—That was the gist of your plan. Right, Caldmellia?
The director of the Gospel Bureau. Caldmellia. Wein was certain she
was the one who had snuck in that fourth figure.
Obviously, I’m a threat to Levetia, Tigris was eyeing the Holy King’s
throne, and Agata fights with the Agency of the Holy King over the
administration of his city.
For Caldmellia, all three were better off dead. That’s why their late-
night meeting was a stroke of good luck for her.

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 Lushan is her home turf. It wouldn’t be weird at all for her to know
about our meeting in the abandoned building and any connected
hidden routes or secret rooms. And she can dispatch guards to the
scene at a moment’s notice. Caldmellia has to be the one who sealed
off the city.
Wein mentally grinned.
Why could Ninym sneak in and find a sheath with Agata’s blood on
it? Why was security so lax? Because no one found it even after a
thorough search? Yeah, right.
Everything was a setup designed to pit Wein and Agata against each
other. Caldmellia must have also known that Wein would hide out in
Gruyere’s mansion. And she was the one who let him go free.
“Prince Wein, if you didn’t see the third person yourself, how do you
know they were an Imperial assassin?” Gruyere asked with a chuckle.
As someone who had an idea of what was going on, he must have
thought this conspiracy theory was hilarious.
“It’s simple. Why was I chosen to attend the meeting? And who
would benefit from Prince Tigris’s death? When you combine these
two questions, the answer is quite clear.”
“What do you mean?”
“—It was to join forces with the Empire and win over my nation to
form a pro-Empire faction among the Holy Elite. That was Prince
Tigris’s goal.”
The table stirred. The Empire was technically an enemy to the West.
Of course, they were a valuable trading partner for neighboring
nations, but it was understood that such business was done on the
sly.
“I see. That’s certainly possible. After all, he was always stepping on
the toes of other Holy Elites. He must have thought he was

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friendless, hoping to claw his way out of trouble by connecting with
the Empire,” Gruyere murmured in admiration.
Wein was, of course, making things up on the fly. The reality was,
however, that it was completely plausible that Tigris might try to
contact the Empire. That was precisely what made these lies so
believable.
“Siding with the Empire is high treason! It’s unforgivable!” Miroslav
railed.
Of the three public highways within the large mountain range
running down the central continent, the nation facing the southern
road was Miroslav’s kingdom. Inevitably, they had a bitter history
with the Empire. To Miroslav, the Empire was an accursed enemy.
Wein pressed on. “Prince Tigris’s plan, however, was a tragic failure.
He was betrayed and killed by the very state he meant to form an
alliance with.”
“I don’t understand that part,” Caldmellia interjected. “Regardless of
whether it would prove successful, why did the Empire want to crush
any budding hope of a pro-Empire faction?”
“A poor move in the long run, but the current situation in the Empire
is so volatile that they can’t even consider a long-term outlook. To
prevent others from taking advantage of them, the Empire has
chosen to avoid conflict and maintain stable relations with the West
in the short term,” Wein replied. “There is also a reason why they
carried out an assassination in Lushan. With the Gathering of the
Chosen as their stage, they could undermine the authority of the
Holy Elite. They hoped to bring down a figure of import such as Lady
Caldmellia. The Imperial family, Princess Lowellmina in particular, is
evil incarnate, born from depravity and cowardice. Conjuring up this
idea would be as simple to her as breathing.”

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If Lowellmina were present, she’d scream at the top of her lungs and
bash him with a mirror, so he could take a long, hard look at himself.
Since she wasn’t here, however, Wein placed the blame on her.
If the group accepted this conspiracy theory, Tigris would be known
as the idiot who tried to make a deal with the Empire and failed, and
his reputation would plummet. But Wein couldn’t care less. Dead
people didn’t need reputations. And more than anything, this was for
Tigris’s sake, too.
When the body fell with the chandelier, something felt off. I had
Ninym do a little digging and figured it out… Tigris, you jumped on to
the chandelier yourself.
Since he fell from the edge of the second-floor mezzanine, the
chandelier decorating the entrance hall of the abandoned house
would have been unreachable following a natural trajectory. Unless
Tigris launched himself off the edge or three or four people tossed
him, he never would have touched it, and Wein would have sensed if
multiple people were right above him.
Which could only mean that Tigris jumped. But for what?
It was to prove that, until the very moment he jumped, he had been
conscious.
Tigris had his throat slashed and a knife stuck in his back. There’s
no question he was ambushed, and his throat was slit first.
What was running through Tigris’s mind as the shock gripped his
throat? Surprise? Confusion? Fear? Anger? None of that. Wein knew.
What Tigris held on to was stubbornness.
Realization had hit Tigris. There was a fourth person. Someone sent
by Caldmellia. That’s why Tigris ran. He ran to where Wein was
waiting for him below so he could tell him about the unexpected
visitor.

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This was not done out of friendship or their shared alliance. It was a
final act of obstinance that refused to let Caldmellia win and get
away with it. He couldn’t speak because of his slit throat, and there
was a knife in his back. Refusing to give up, however, Tigris jumped
just before his death. He gripped his heart tightly.
If his slit throat and the knife in his back were not the cause of this
pain, why did he clutch at his chest? It wasn’t because he was hurt.
What he was actually holding was the symbol that hung from his
neck—the Circles. It was a final message that said the enemy was
someone who was a symbol for Levetia. That is, the Holy King and
Caldmellia.
Tigris, we would have killed each other at some point if you had
lived, but for better or worse, you died while our alliance was still
intact… So I’ll pick a flower to leave on your grave.
It was for this reason that Wein was going to put the pressure on.
“What do you think, Sir Agata? Is my explanation to your
satisfaction?”
“Hmph…” Agata slightly flinched when he was thrown into the
conversation. Miroslav, Steel, and the others looked at them
quizzically.
Agata alone was aware of the prince’s unspoken intentions: I’ll
pretend you weren’t the third person, so just play along.
“…I feel like much of what you have said is far-fetched,” Agata began.
“But only God knows. We will never know the truth… I shall believe
you.”
Wein could feel the atmosphere of the room begin to shift. It didn’t
make too much of a difference, though—there was one less Holy
Elite. A single “yes” wasn’t going to do much.
Wein turned his eyes on his next target. “What do you think, Prince
Miroslav?”

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“Don’t be stupid! All I’ve been hearing this whole time is stuff that
makes you look better! You think I’d just fall for it?!”
Miroslav was, in fact, right on the money, but Wein answered him
with confidence.
“I can’t blame you for thinking this way, but both my reputation and
the future of Natra are on the line. If you insist on proving I
murdered Prince Tigris, I will take as much time as needed to clear
such accusations.”
Miroslav’s main objective for this Gathering was making King Skrei a
Holy Elite. Finding Tigris’s murderer was not part of his plans. Wein
was in his way. The young prince maintained open relations with his
enemy—the Empire—and Miroslav understood there was merit in
getting ridding of him, but only if it wouldn’t obstruct his true goal.
If we waste time on this and miss the chance to talk about King
Skrei’s candidacy for Holy Elite…
Miroslav was spearheading the discussion around King Skrei. It
wouldn’t make much difference to the other Holy Elites if they
skipped talk of his appointment altogether. In fact, they were all
thinking about shrugging it off. There were more important matters
at hand.
Grah…
Should he continue verbally denouncing Wein or switch topics to
King Skrei? Miroslav’s heart was as stormy as the ocean.
“Prince Miroslav.”
The voice next to him brought Miroslav back to his senses. Beside
him, Skrei’s gaze was intense, though apprehensive.
If I interrogate Wein here, I’ll lose his trust…!
By cooperating with Skrei, Miroslav’s main objective was to gain
more power at the Gathering of the Chosen. Even if Skrei did become

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a Holy Elite, the plan would collapse if he criticized Wein here and
lost Skrei’s trust. Miroslav had to avoid this at any cost.
I guess I’ve got no choice…
Cursing himself on the inside, Miroslav turned to Wein. “…I take it
back. I’ll accept it was the Empire’s fault.”
“Oh, I’m glad you understand, Prince Miroslav.” Wein smirked as if
he’d just watched Miroslav’s inner turmoil.
Miroslav grit his teeth in irritation.
If that’s the case… Wein surveyed the remaining Holy Elites at the
round table.
There were four left: the Holy King, Caldmellia, Steel, and Gruyere. If
Wein could convince even one of them, his conspiracy theory would
be accepted by the majority.
Personality-wise, Gruyere will agree to this only if he’s the sole
opposition. The Holy King and Caldmellia are still sticking to their guns.
Which means Steel is the one to convince!
Wein opened his mouth to address Steel.
“—Prince Wein, your theory about the Empire is certainly a logical
one.” Before he could say anything, Caldmellia broke her silence.
“We should protest to the Empire and have them take
responsibility.”
Caldmellia had accepted Wein’s theory. None of the Holy Elites had
been expecting this. They had assumed she was planning to take full
advantage of the chaos and crush Natra.
“I take it His Holiness shares the same opinion, Director Caldmellia?”
Gruyere asked.
Next to Caldmellia, Silverio gave a small but definite nod. She was
not deciding things on her own, it seemed.

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“King Gruyere, Duke Steel, what do you think?” Caldmellia asked the
two in Wein’s stead. They were already in the minority, and there
was no way either was going to refute Wein’s opinion if the Holy King
already agreed with it.
“Prince Wein, will you later inform me of Tigris’s death in minute
detail?”
“…Of course.”
“Thank you. In that case, I will support the notion that Prince Tigris
was killed by the Empire,” Steel said in a satisfied tone. Wein
mentally gagged.
“All right. I’ll accept it, too,” Gruyere added with a heavy nod.
With this, the truth would be buried in darkness. Wein’s proposed
theory was accepted by all the Holy Elites, and the crime of Tigris’s
death would fall on the Empire. In other words, Wein had wriggled
his way out of all his problems.
I should be home free—but I’m not.
Wein looked at Caldmellia. Why did she agree to his story? He
couldn’t relax until he figured this out.
Wein kept his expression composed. I see what you’re up to. Your
plan is to get me to join in and bash the Empire, right?
The Holy Elite Tigris had been killed by an Imperial assassin.
News of this would spread across both sides of the continent and be
a catalyst for heightened anti-Imperial sentiment in the West. It
wasn’t hard to imagine future meetings, where strategies to put
pressure on the Empire would be discussed. Naturally, Natra couldn’t
afford to stay out of it.
Will she use military force or impose economic sanctions? At any
rate, she’s using this as an opportunity to get Natra to cut ties with the

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Empire. And now that I’ve pushed the Empire as the mastermind, it
would be awkward for me to refuse her now.
He still had a chance, however. He’d gotten this far. Wein could be a
fair-weather friend.
The real battle starts now, Caldmellia…!
Just as Wein was staring to get ready for the fight ahead…
“—Pardon me!” A messenger came flying out of nowhere.
“The army of Cavarin is attacking the city of Mealtars in the central
continent! And Imperial Prince Bardloche has mobilized his army to
defend Mealtars!”
““Whaaaaaat?””
The eyes of all present widened in shock. This, of course, included
the Holy Elites. Wein and Skrei were no exceptions.
Two among them, however, were different.
The Holy King remained perfectly still as if he’d heard nothing at all,
and a suspicious smile crept onto Caldmellia’s face—

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Imperial Prince Bardloche of Earthworld was famous for being the
militaristic type. He’d enjoyed learning swordsmanship from a young
age, and it was his greatest desire to have his own army once he
grew up. Whether it was leading subordinates or subjugating
bandits, no one had more battle experience within the Imperial
family than him. His soldiers trusted him with their lives, and many
believed Bardloche was worthy of the throne.
And yet he’d lost the other day.
It all started when the eldest prince acted recklessly. The four
siblings had fought for the right to rule, and in the end, Imperial
Princess Lowellmina got the jump on all of them. Although
Lowellmina’s coronation was on hold at the moment, Bardloche’s
force had sustained major damage because of his failure. The civil
war had cost him soldiers and supplies to no small degree, and his
faction took a nosedive.
Bardloche had to rebuild his faction as fast as possible. Curiously,
that was the case, too, for Princess Lowellmina and the youngest
prince, Manfred, but unlike them, Bardloche’s faction was tied
together by military strength.
Bardloche was strong. His armies were strong. That was why people
flocked to him. They respected him. They supported him. It was a
simple system, and that was how Bardloche liked it.
This was also why his losses in battle felt so much more devastating
than the other Imperial siblings.
Bardloche had been weak. His army had failed. Respect had turned
to disappointment, and doubt rattled his support base. He would be
criticized as a coward if he tried to buy back support with money,
and the people would think he was abandoning his roots if he made

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any attempt to regain their hearts with speeches. Those admired for
their strength had no choice but to regain respect with strength and
strength alone.
I need something that will shut the people up and an enemy I can
take on. But where…?
Bardloche was unsure what to do, beating himself up, when a
messenger from the West arrived—

“Your Highness, it won’t be long until we reach Mealtars.”

When his subordinate Lorencio spoke to him, Bardloche opened his
eyes, riding on horseback. He looked at Lorencio and the soldiers
proceeding forward in an orderly fashion. There were around three
thousand of them. It was the best he was able to scrape together
from his exhausted faction.
“…How’s the city?”
“According to the reports from our scouting party, Mealtars closed
off the western castle gate. It seems Cavarin is observing them from
a distance and has ceased its attacks.”
“I see… Everything’s going according to plan,” Bardloche muttered.
Lorencio grimaced.
“Does something bother you, Lorencio?”
“Forgive me. This strategy just doesn’t seem like you, Your Highness.
Even if it was, it’s a nasty one.”
“Yeah…I guess you’re right.”
The messenger from the West said they were a subordinate of
Caldmellia’s. They had come to Bardloche with a proposition.

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 “We will provoke a portion of the aristocrats in Cavarin and attack
Mealtars. We want you to raise your army and defend the city.”
At first, Bardloche couldn’t decipher their plan. After he got the
whole story, however, he understood.
Caldmellia had two objectives in mind. First, she wanted to stop King
Skrei from becoming a Holy Elite. If Cavarin attacked the Empire, he
would have to take responsibility. His consideration to join the Holy
Elite would be taken off the table, and he would be denounced
domestically and abroad. Who could say how much chaos would
ensue in an already fractured country? Cavarin would be ripe for the
picking by neighboring nations.
Her other goal was to force Natra to align with the West. After
inviting Wein to the Gathering of the Chosen, she would stage a clash
between the two sides of the continent. He would then be pressured
to pick a side. If he complied, great. If he chose the East, Caldmellia
would have reason to crush him.
This plan benefited Bardloche, too. Defending Mealtars would let
him highlight his former military prowess. Working together would
guarantee a fresh stream of supplies. And most importantly—there
was the tempting possibility that Natra would side with the West.
If Natra joins them, he’ll have to break it off with Lowellmina.
Natra was currently in an alliance with the Empire, but it was really
Imperial Princess Lowellmina’s people whom they were supporting.
It was obvious that her foreign backer had stabilized her faction. If
she lost him, it would be a hard hit on the princess.
Not a bad deal… In fact, I couldn’t ask for better.
He couldn’t turn down such an offer. It was a win all around.
At the same time, Bardloche was worried it was too good to be true.
Was this really a safe bet? He’d heard Director Caldmellia of the

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Gospel Bureau was a mastermind. What if she was hiding another
objective he just couldn’t see?
But…
At the moment, the other two factions had a lead over him. If
Bardloche stood around and watched, the throne would slip through
his fingers. If he wanted any chance of staying in the race, he would
grasp at anything that came his way.
“Lorencio, I understand why you’re worried. But it’s too late to
hesitate.”
“Yes… Forgive me.”
“We’ll deploy the soldiers as soon as we reach Mealtars. Those
Westerners thought they could invade Imperial territory, but we’re
gonna drive ’em right out.”
Lorencio listened to Bardloche, closed his eyes, and bowed.

On the west side of Mealtars, Cavarin’s army of aristocrats set out in

a place away from the city’s blockaded gate. There weren’t even two
thousand of them. They were poorly equipped, and their morale was
low. It was like they were a reflection of Cavarin’s current state of
affairs.
A man and a woman observed this army from the rear.
“Seems things are chugging along.”
“No surprise there. Lady Caldmellia came up with the plan, after all.”
The man’s name was Owl. The woman was Ibis. Both served under
Caldmellia.

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“I really didn’t think it’d be this easy to get them going. The
merchants from Mealtars must have milked those aristocrats from
Cavarin for everything they were worth.”
Mealtars was a critical position in the central continent, and as a
neighboring nation, Cavarin had flourished from its founding.
However, after King Ordalasse’s assassination two years prior and
losing the ensuing war with Natra, the reputation of the royal family
had gone down the drain. This stirred the top leaders to fight for the
title of king. The race for the throne carried on both publicly and
privately, and the nation’s public order, manufacturing industries,
and distribution chains fell apart in the process.
It was impossible for the aristocrats to run their domains and the
economy. Tax revenue dropped, and their popularity among the
people waned.
Just then, the merchants from Mealtars approached them, offering
people, supplies, and money to aid their administrations. Most
jumped at the opportunity. There were some who realized the
merchants’ objective and hesitated. The trouble over managing their
lands, however, wouldn’t go away on its own. In the end, they
yielded.
Thus, the domains of aristocrats all fell under the patronage of the
merchants. Like a cloth stripped back layer by layer, their rights were
peeled away.
It wasn’t only the West that was ready to prey on Cavarin in its
weakened state. By the time the aristocrats realized this, it was
already too late. They could do nothing but obey the merchants
while harboring shame and resentment.
Caldmellia took advantage of this moment.
“She claims to lead them to the promised land if their attack on
Mealtars is worthwhile. Do you really think that’s true?”

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“Yes. A place will be prepared for them. By God’s side.”

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Page | 134
Ibis chuckled. “I feel bad for King Skrei. The aristocrats have betrayed
him while he’s trying to unify the country, and the masterminds
forcing him to take responsibility are about to meet our Creator.
What is to become of Cavarin?”
“Who knows? It doesn’t matter to us. All I can say is you needn’t pity
King Skrei. After all, there is no greater honor than becoming a pawn
to one of Lady Caldmellia’s plans.”
“Hee-hee. You have a point.” Ibis giggled and looked west in the
direction of Lushan.
“I’m sure the Holy Elites gathered in the city are weeping tears of joy
right about now,” she said.

“—That damn woman! Caldmellia screwed me over!”

In a room of his lodgings in Lushan, Miroslav cursed Caldmellia with
every word in his vocabulary.
Mealtars had been violently attacked by aristocrats from Cavarin,
and Prince Bardloche’s army was advancing. The influx of this new
information forced them to temporarily pause the Gathering of the
Chosen.
Were the reports real? If they were, what were the details of the
situation? Each of the Holy Elites had called upon their subordinates
and raced to get the facts straight as quickly as possible. When the
messengers returned with their findings several days later, they
confirmed everything was true.
This is definitely a plan to stop Skrei from becoming a Holy Elite!

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The puppet master had to be someone at the Gathering, and there
was no one more suspicious than Caldmellia. Now that Miroslav
thought about it, the city had been instantly blockaded after Tigris’s
death. He had thought it was to prevent the criminal from getting
away, but it also could have been an effort to prevent any
information from coming in or going out. Even if external news
arrived in Lushan by some chance, the Holy Elites would have no idea
what was going on in Mealtars. By the time they did find out,
everything would be far too late. The only ones with the power to
execute such a thing were either the Holy King or Caldmellia.
“I can’t believe this is happening…”
In the same room, Skrei—visibly overwhelmed—murmured to
himself. This just had to happen as he’d been thinking he could unify
Cavarin by becoming a king and a Holy Elite. Even he couldn’t pick
himself up.
“Get a grip, Skrei! It’ll be over if you fall apart here!”
Miroslav’s comment did nothing to clear Skrei’s dark expression.
“But, Miroslav, things won’t get any better. I should go back to
Cavarin and settle things there.”
“No! You can’t do that!” Miroslav grabbed Skrei’s shoulders. “You
heard Wein, right? Holy Elites can make miracles happen if we want
to. And there’s no denying Cavarin attacked first. If you leave the
Gathering now, the Holy Elites will take advantage of that and
criticize Cavarin. They’ll try to destroy your country and devour it
without a second thought. If nothing else, you’ve gotta avoid that!”
“But how?!”
“By becoming a Holy Elite!” Miroslav shouted. “We’re out of options
by this point. Leave Cavarin to your vassals for now. In the
meantime, all you can do is become a Holy Elite, purge all the
aristocrats who had anything to do with the attack on Mealtars, and

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stabilize Cavarin! If you do that, the other Elites can’t get in your
way!”
Miroslav knew he was asking for a lot. He was trying to get the rest
of the Holy Elites to accept Cavarin into their fold even though
everyone except him saw the country as easy prey. But it simply had
to be done. Miroslav couldn’t say any of this to Skrei’s face, but it
would still be to his benefit even if Cavarin got swallowed up by
another Western nation. What worried Miroslav most was the
possibility of the Empire advancing into the West.
The Empire is eyeing Cavarin, too, in its weakened state! The
Imperial merchants from Mealtars have poached aristocratic land, and
now the nobility are attacking Mealtars to exact their revenge! The
Empire has more than enough reason to invade Cavarin to protect
their interests!
That alone was unacceptable. The Kingdom of Falcasso—a territory
that managed the southern road connecting to the East—had a long
history of fighting against the Empire. To Miroslav, the Empire was
an enemy that had to be destroyed at any cost. They could not be
allowed to cross into the West.
…If there’s any silver lining here, I guess it would be the fact that
Wein’s getting cornered.
Caldmellia would use this opportunity to win over Natra. It was
critical for the West that the prince break ties with the Empire. In
fact, it would be even better if he defied the Elites. Once Wein was
labeled a traitor, the attention would shift away from Skrei.
Either way, it works, Miroslav thought. Your days of neutrality are
over. You’re out of moves. Time to pick a side—!

“—There’s more where that came from,” Wein confirmed from his
temporary manor.

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“‘More’… Are you saying there’s still something we can do?” Ninym
asked, shocked.
Just as Wein had successfully cleared himself of Tigris’s murder and
figured he could quietly head back home, Mealtars was under attack.
They didn’t even have time to catch their breath, much less
celebrate. Understandably, Ninym thought all hope was lost—but
her master apparently had other plans.
“Yeah. There’s no question we can wrap this up while still keeping
everything vague and not getting a single thing done.”
It’s a long shot, though, Wein thought. Even if he’d had all the time
in the world to prepare, he wasn’t completely sure it would work.
Plus, there were too many variables in their current situation.
“I’ll need time to put this plan together. How can we stall ’em…?”
Wein wondered.
Ninym agonized for a moment. “For now, I’ll bring tea and snacks.
They’ve finally agreed on what happened to Prince Tigris. We’ve all
earned a break.”
“Yeah, you’re right. If we do that—” Wein started, when a knock
came at the door.
“Pardon me, Your Highness. A letter has just arrived.”
A subordinate held out the missive. When Ninym accepted it, a look
of surprise flashed across her features. She passed it to Wein.
“This is…”
Looking at the wax seal, Wein understood why Ninym was so
confounded. He broke it and read over its contents in a matter of
seconds.
“Hold off on the tea, Ninym,” he said with a grin.
“And call Falanya here.”

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Elsewhere, Falanya was sitting across from Cosimo in a reception
room.
“I am terribly sorry that I could not assist in Prince Wein’s dilemma
despite your assistance to me in the past. I must apologize that I
need to depart these lands with hardly a farewell.”
“Please think nothing of it, Mayor Cosimo. It was not under your
control, and the charges against my brother have been cleared.”
Falanya gave a modest smile as Cosimo bowed his head. A mayor did
not have grounds to say anything about the assassination of a Holy
Elite.
Furthermore, Falanya’s lodgings had been surrounded by guards who
wouldn’t allow a single person passage. Even if Cosimo could have
done something, there was no question that his visit would only
create more issues.
Plus, just as he was thanking the heavens that Wein had been
cleared of suspicion, Cosimo was tossed in the fire. Although there
was clearly no time for good-byes, he had managed to carve out a
few moments anyway.
“On to more important topics, Mayor Cosimo. What’s happening in
Mealtars…?”
“An army led by Prince Bardloche has already entered the city and is
currently defending it…or so I hear.”
Cosimo’s expression soured. Mealtars primarily functioned as an
autonomous city of merchants, but now they were being attacked by
the West and had allowed the Imperial army to stand guard within
its walls. One might see the situation as an affront on Mealtars’s
independence.

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“I was aware that the aristocrats in Cavarin were growing resentful,
but to think they would go this far… If I had been present, perhaps
we could have avoided disaster at the last minute…”
Falanya had heard from Wein that Caldmellia was behind all this. If
that was the case, the director had likely factored in Cosimo’s
absence from the city in her calculations.
“…I wonder what will become of Mealtars,” Falanya said.
“Now that they have attacked our city, I have no choice but to insist
the fault lies with Cavarin. I am hoping for a swift resolution.”
It was easier said than done. Cavarin resented Mealtars, and Prince
Bardloche was using this opportunity to flex his power. It wouldn’t
be easy to stop everything. Cosimo sweat at the mere thought of it.
“If there is anything I can do…”
“Your kindness is more than enough. Unfortunately, Natra is still in a
difficult situation even though Prince Wein’s name has been cleared.
Princess Falanya, you should direct your efforts toward aiding your
homeland.”
Cosimo was right. Falanya had heard that once the Gathering was
back in session, Natra would be pressured to choose a side. Wein
seemed intent on bypassing this step, but Falanya didn’t have the
slightest idea how. Not only that, she was starting to come to terms
with her own weakness and the truth that diplomacy was a war
fought with more than swords.
A knock came at the door.
“Pardon me, Princess Falanya… Ah, I see you are still here as well,
Mayor Cosimo. Excellent timing.”
Sirgis was before them. He had holed himself up in his room to mull
over his thoughts; his sudden appearance had to signal he was
finished.

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“Do you have business with me, Sirgis?”
“Yes. I have finally finished gathering my thoughts,” he replied. “I
believe you are both already aware of the situation in Mealtars. —
Princess Falanya, Mayor Cosimo. I have a proposal for you.”

Several days passed since the news about Mealtars broke. Lushan
was in a panicked state of uncertainty. The citizens had been thrilled
when it was announced that the Gathering of the Chosen would be
held in their fair city. That all changed, however, with Prince Tigris’s
death and the outbreak of war in Mealtars. They had no clue what
was going on anymore.
“What will become of us…?” asked the people. No one across the
land could provide an answer.
After all, the Gathering was about to resume, and the answer
depended on its outcome—

Wein had been the topic at the previous session of the Gathering of
the Chosen, but the meeting on this day was different. Although the
same members were in attendance, the Holy Elites’ attention was
now on Skrei.
“…I understand that the incident in Mealtars has happened. A
portion of the aristocrats from my country have attacked the city,
and the Imperial army has stepped in to defend it,” Skrei said
gravely. He had underlined his own weakness, and the audience
gathered around him pulled no punches.
“So how do you plan on taking responsibility for this problem, King of
Cavarin? This situation involves not just your nation, but the entirety
of the West,” Gruyere replied.

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“The Empire was busy with their own mess and held off on meddling
with Western affairs. You’ve shot an arrow at a sleeping dragon,”
Agata added.
It was here that Skrei’s already dark expression grew dismal.
“…The aristocrats who participated in the attack on Mealtars will be
stripped of their titles and have their lands confiscated. I have
ordered my vassals in Cavarin to form an army and subjugate them
as if they were bandits. I will see this through.”
“And do you think the Empire and those aristocrats will wait around
doing nothing while you get your army together?” Gruyere
questioned.
“I have doubts you even can suppress them. Isn’t there a chance
your vassals and army will sympathize with them?” Agata asked.
“Th-that would never…!”
“Can you really claim that would never happen? Their lack of respect
for you is the reason this happened in the first place.”
Skrei had no answer for that. He could not deny that he lacked
prestige. That was why he tried to become a Holy Elite…which had
led him down this disastrous route.
“Hold on! Now isn’t the time to be attacking King Skrei!”
Miroslav quickly rushed to his aid. However, the cards were not in his
favor.
“‘Attacking’ him, you say? We’re just criticizing his stupid excuses.”
“King Gruyere is right. Even after everything that’s happened, he’s
claiming he can do the impossible.”
“Ngh…!”

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Gruyere, Agata, and Miroslav had no mercy. Steel, Caldmellia, and
the Holy King observed in silence. Seeing as this was due to his own
blunder, Skrei stood there without doing anything.
And what’s my next move…?
Wein’s mind raced as he evaluated the situation.
Right now, the aristocrats and Imperial troops are staring each
other down in Mealtars. Under normal circumstances, this would be
an issue between the two countries, but every Holy Elite except
Miroslav thinks it should involve the whole Western continent. They
want to force King Skrei to pay reparations while they play the role of
innocent victims.
Wein and Natra had nothing to do with any of it. As long as no one
called on him, Wein could simply melt into the background.
Fat chance of that happening, though. Gruyere and Agata are going
after King Skrei, but I know Caldmellia has plans for me.
The question was when and how. Wein watched Caldmellia as the
gears in his mind turned. She looked over at him and smiled. Wein’s
face twisted.
“—What if we started by sending a special envoy of Levetia?” Agata
suggested. “I wouldn’t call it ‘fortunate,’ per se…but the Imperial
army is focused on defending Mealtars. If we act now, I believe there
is still room for negotiation.”
“In that case, I’ll go…!” Skrei cried out, but Agata shook his head.
“The future of every Western nation is at stake. It’s not a mission for
someone without a single accomplishment to his name.”
“Hmph, then who fits the bill?” Gruyere asked, and Agata’s gaze
turned to Wein.
“Prince Wein is smart and resourceful, and he has ties to the Empire.
There is no one else who compares.”

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 Oh?
This threw Wein off guard. If he was chosen as the special envoy,
he’d be in direct negotiations with the Empire. If things worked out,
it wouldn’t be wrong to say Wein could stress the value of Natra’s
relationship with the Empire and maintain their alliance. This was his
chance.
Maybe he’s trying to do me a solid after the whole deal with Tigris’s
assassination.
Agata’s expression gave nothing away, and Wein mentally thanked
him. However…
“—Sir Agata, I’m afraid that is impossible.”
Caldmellia cut in before Wein could reply.
“Please recall the event that occurred only several days ago. Prince
Tigris was killed by the Empire. How could we possibly negotiate with
such people?”
“Hrmm…”
Wein tsked inside, and Agata looked disheartened. The conspiracy
theory had been accepted as the truth, which helped get both Wein
and Agata out of a lot of trouble. Rehashing it now wouldn’t do
either of them any good.
Hidden motives aside, there was no way that the Holy Elites would
agree to negotiate with the people who had killed one of their own
and had yet to pay for their crimes. If something like that went
public, it would undermine the authority as an organization.
According to Caldmellia, that is. The other Elites raised no objections.
Well, I guess I knew I would have to can my idea for a “Moderate”
Anti-Empire Party.

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His problems were from here on out. How could Wein resolve this
without negotiation?
As he watched the proceedings carefully, Gruyere asked a question.
“Lady Caldmellia. What do you plan to do?”
She didn’t miss a beat. “Declare a Holy War. We will deploy our army
in Levetia’s name and come to Cavarin’s aid. However,” she added,
“the scale will not be the same as the last time we sent soldiers to
Mealtars. This time, the Holy Elites will deal with the matter by
combining their forces.”
Everyone except the Holy King was thrown by this.
During the year prior, the Imperial fight for succession had broken
out in Mealtars. At the time, Levetia had sent troops under the
pretext of saving believers caught in the conflict. There were about
six thousand soldiers in number, all pious volunteers. It was Levetia’s
source of military power.
A combined army was a different story. To bolster the volunteer
soldiers, the homelands of each Holy Elite would be mobilizing their
own forces. In addition, countries without a Holy Elite would offer a
fraction of their troops, too. How much power would they have
then?
“Wait! Isn’t it true that the Imperial army in Mealtars doesn’t even
amount to five thousand soldiers?! Striking them with an allied force
would be overkill!”
Agata’s protests held some truth, but Caldmellia wasn’t about to give
in.
“That is precisely what the Imperial army wants you to think, Sir
Agata. Believing that their only goal is to defend Mealtars when
Cavarin—an already exhausted nation—is right there is far too
optimistic. If we underestimate them and believe it is enough to

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threaten them with a few thousand soldiers, they will invade
Cavarin. After all, the Empire can claim they were attacked first.”
It wasn’t too far-fetched. There were probably a few in the Empire
who had the same idea. If all went well, they’d set foot in the West.
“As for King Skrei, neither His Holiness nor I have any intention of
pressing any charges. It is only natural that Prince Tigris’s death, the
recklessness of a few aristocrats, and the swift deployment of
soldiers to Mealtars were all part of the Empire’s plan to invade
Cavarin.”
Caldmellia pinned the blame on the Empire although this was
entirely her own doing.
“The target of our resentment should be the Empire. Arguing among
ourselves will only benefit them. We ought to pour our energies into
combining our strengths to drive the Empire back.”
She was trying to say, They’ll stop attacking if you shut up and agree
to work together.
Of course, both Miroslav and Skrei had figured out that it was
Caldmellia who had come up with this plan, not the Empire. Going up
against her, however, would only make them a target for more
criticism. They had no choice but to nod.
“…I’ll agree to the alliance. How about you, King Skrei?”
“I approve as well. I hope to atone by aiding our combined forces.”
Caldmellia gave a satisfied smile before turning to Gruyere, Steel,
and Agata. “What do you think?”
“I don’t mind,” Steel immediately replied. “A unified army formed by
the Holy Elites… Enough soldiers to fill the land… It sparks creativity. I
vow to persuade my king.”
His perspective on life was as strange as always, but if he said he’d
do it, then he would.

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Next to him, Gruyere asked a question. “Does His Holiness really
want this alliance?”
“But of course.” Caldmellia looked at the Holy King next to her. He
remained silent but gave a small yet unmistakable nod.
“…Okay. In that case, you have my army as well.”
By this point, Agata couldn’t possibly refuse. He was the one acting in
opposition the other day so the Holy Elites would accept his
conspiracy theory; Caldmellia was trying to do the same exact thing.
“Now that we are all in agreement, there is one more thing we must
decide.”
Wondering what it could be, they all looked at her expectantly.
Caldmellia continued, “The representative of this joint front will, of
course, be the Holy King. His Holiness’s top priority, however, is
praying for peace unto all believers. We will require a supreme
commander to lead the alliance.”
She made a good point. Even if you physically brought together a
combined army, they’d be nothing more than a disorderly mass
without strategy. Having said that, a recluse like Silverio couldn’t lead
them, seeing that he’d never left Lushan.
“I believe you would be the most apt choice, King Gruyere. Will you
be up to it?” Caldmellia questioned.
Despite Gruyere’s appearance, he was the greatest military mind of
the Holy Elites and the most spiritual by far. He was a decent
candidate, but—
“I won’t do it,” he replied. “I would never take on a position when
there are other people better equipped for this job. I’m not
shameless.”
“There’s someone better than you, King Gruyere…?” Agata asked.

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The others looked at the king in confusion, and Gruyere shifted his
gaze. “Isn’t the man who beat me sitting right there?”
Everyone’s eyes followed his line of sight and landed on Wein, who
had been trying his very best to be invisible.
—WHAAAAA?! Wein screamed inside. Damn it, Gruyere! I finally
made ’em forget I was here!
Wein gave him the worst death glare he could muster, but Gruyere
blew it off. The prince offered a bright smile, gritting his teeth.
“…I’m honored you think so highly of me, but that battle was sheer
luck. You excel me in the art of war, King Gruyere.”
“Oh? So you’re saying I was taken down by chance?”
You aren’t funny, you hog! Wein’s mind raced as he mentally cursed
out Gruyere.
“I suppose I can if I have no choice…but I’m still young and
inexperienced. I was only permitted to attend the Gathering of the
Chosen on special invitation. I do not possess the skill needed to lead
the Holy Elite.”
The Holy Elites looked both satisfied and relieved. Unlike Gruyere,
they must have been hesitant to make him supreme commander.
Caldmellia thought otherwise. “Will appointing you as a Holy Elite
solve the matter, Prince Wein?”
The round table stirred.
Her words seemed to suggest that Wein couldn’t command them
only because he wasn’t a Holy Elite. In that case, she seemed to say,
he should become one. It was simple, straightforward—but the
position of Holy Elite couldn’t be bestowed on just anyone.
“Wait, Lady Caldmellia!” Miroslav reacted before Wein even had a
chance. “A person can only become a Holy Elite once their faith,

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bloodline, dedication, and abilities have been accepted by all people!
Even if he has the rank needed to lead a joint military alliance
between royalty and nobility, is making him a Holy Elite for that sole
purpose necessary?!”
“You’re right. That is why the most appropriate answer is to make
the position temporary. If our joint war proves successful, he will
take those honors and be welcomed as an official member. What do
you think?”
Caldmellia turned to Skrei and smiled. “Depending on the outcome, I
think we might see others worthy of becoming a Holy Elite on the
battlefield. I shall take it into consideration together with the Holy
King.”
“Th-that’s…”
Wein was stunned by Caldmellia’s silver tongue. From proposing a
combined army to suggesting Wein be appointed as supreme
commander, there were issues around every corner. It wasn’t as if
she and Gruyere were any sort of team, but when the topic of
supreme commander came up and the king volunteered Wein, she
rolled right with it…and dangled the chance to become a Holy Elite in
front of Wein and Skrei.
Caldmellia was starting to dominate the conversation. Unable to
shake the feeling it was already too late, Wein tried to cut in anyway.
“…I understand. If the other Holy Elites have no objections, I will lead
our united army under those conditions.”
Somebody say something, Wein begged as he waited several
seconds. All remained complicitly silent.
Guess my fate is sealed…
Wein gave an anguished sigh. If he became the supreme commander
of this combined army, he’d have no choice but to break off his

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alliance with the Empire. And once the West joined together to
encroach on their national borders, the Empire wouldn’t just sit back
and watch it happen. The Imperial children would pause their race
for the throne and form a united front to deal with the threat. Once
that happened, the situation would get out of hand. The Western
allies would refuse to give up without something to show for it, and
the Empire wouldn’t want to lose its reputation as a unifying force.
Neither would be able to yield, and there was a possibility that it
would devolve into an ugly clash between East and West.
That’s exactly what Caldmellia wants, and that’s where she’ll goad
them.
That’s why the following thought struck Wein.
Ugh. Good thing I planned ahead.
The door to the reception room opened.
“Please pardon the interruption! A report has come in that the
Imperial army is stirring!”
The eyes of every Holy Elite turned toward the messenger.
“So they’re already on the move. Did they leave Mealtars to invade
Cavarin?” Miroslav wondered.
The messenger shook his head. “No, the situation in Mealtars has
come to a standstill. There have been no changes!”
“What’re you talking about?” Miroslav frowned. “If Mealtars isn’t the
problem, where are they coming from?”
The messenger paused for a moment before practically yelling the
answer.
“—The Imperial army has appeared along the eastern border of
Natra!”

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The Earthworld Empire. The independent territory of Antgadull in the
Gairan State.
East of the Natra Kingdom, Lowellmina stood in the lands governed
by Marquis Antgadull.
“I was here just a short while ago, but it feels like it’s been forever,”
she said as she gazed outside the tent. “Seeing our army lined up
especially reminds me of a certain memory.”
Rows of soldiers were spread out before Lowellmina, around five
thousand of them. These were the genuine Imperial forces.
“Wouldn’t you agree?” she asked. The princess looked next to her.
A handsome man in the prime of life stood next to her and wore a
bitter expression. Grinahae Antgadull. Marquis Antgadull was the
one who governed these lands and had an extensive past with both
Lowellmina and Wein.
“Ah, please be at ease. I don’t mean to sound caustic. I haven’t come
here only to tease you.”
“…I understand you would not spare time for trivial matters. This is
precisely why I don’t understand. Why have you stationed our troops
along the border of Natra? You informed me that it is to suppress a
group of bandits, but that’s rare in this region, especially so close to
winter…”

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Page | 152
“It’s basically impossible. No mountain bandits would consider
settling down here; they would head farther south.”
Lowellmina hugged her body. Even in the fall, it was cold enough to
chill you to the bone. Unless you were the type of person bounding
with excess energy, it wasn’t the type of place you’d want to visit for
long.
“In that case, are you provoking Natra as some sort of gag? I heard
that you have maintained friendly relations with them, Princess. It
would be a great loss if your actions created a fissure between you.”
“Don’t worry. I will receive permission from Natra…no, from Wein, in
the near future.”
“‘Receive permission’…?”
Lowellmina had sent one thousand soldiers to the border of a
neighboring nation to fight invisible bandits. Would she be permitted
by said ally nation to do so? Grinahae tilted his head.
“Just don’t worry about it. As long as you gather our men, Marquis
Antgadull, that is enough. After all, I could never accomplish that.”
“Yes… Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
A look of dissatisfaction on his face, Grinahae bowed and left the
tent.
After seeing him off, Fyshe spoke up, having stood at attention
beside Lowellmina this whole time. “Is it all right to leave this to
Marquis Antgadull?”
“It’s fine. He won’t betray me anytime soon, and he is at least skilled
enough to organize our troops,” Lowellmina replied. “Frankly, my
own faction has me more worried!”

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“We did scramble to piece it together…”
Even though Lowellmina claimed it was to fight bandits, she was met
with skepticism from her faction. After all, they never did have a
great relationship to begin with. After coaxing her party and getting
Grinahae to rally some soldiers together, she’d finally gathered this
army of one thousand people.
“I have my doubts, to be honest. Is there this much value in aiding
him—in aiding Prince Wein?”
“Oh yeah, totally,” Lowellmina replied with a confident nod. “You
know that Bardloche’s faction has been acting weird, right?”
“Yes. They have managed to gather soldiers and supplies even
though they have not yet recovered from the recent faction war… As
soon as news of Cavarin’s attack on Mealtars hit and everyone was
wondering what to do, he mobilized his forces. It’s as if he knew
about it ahead of time.”
“He must have known. Someone instigated a war that works in his
favor just as his faction was falling apart. Goodness, Bardloche,
someone is taking advantage of you.” Lowellmina shrugged her
shoulders. “Plus, Bardloche sprung to action while the Gathering of
the Chosen is under way in the West. Skrei of Cavarin and Wein of
Natra were invited to this conference. If the group decides to work
together, well, it’s easy to imagine what will happen next. I bet Wein
will be pressured to nullify his alliance with the Empire and join in
the battle between East and West.”
Fyshe groaned when she heard Lowellmina’s prospective outlook. As
things stood, she could already tell there was a good chance that
Wein was beginning driven to make this choice. What surprised her
most, however, was that Lowellmina had deployed her army almost
as soon as Imperial Prince Bardloche departed for Mealtars.

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 Couldn’t she have stopped Prince Bardloche earlier? Fyshe
wondered.
“I could have.” Lowellmina replied as if she’d read her mind, and
Fyshe jumped from her skin. “I didn’t, though. I mean, he’s got to
start drowning before I can hold out straw and demand favors.”
The princess flashed her a bold smile. Fyshe was struck by her
mistress’s frightening ways for a moment before venturing to make
another comment.
“…But Your Highness, I still don’t understand. Is placing our army
along the borders of Natra really going to aid Prince Wein?”
Lowellmina smiled once again. “Fyshe, you continue to
underestimate Wein’s depravity. Fear not, it’ll be effective, I assure
you. And knowing Wein, he will offer a fair reward in return.”
“…But what if it doesn’t go well?”
“…I’ll go on an apology tour to see all my faction leaders. Give me a
month.”
You’re killing me here, Fyshe mentally groaned. She had no idea what
was happening in Lushan or what would come next, but she prayed
Prince Wein was working his ass off.
Just then…
“Pardon me! A letter from Natra!”
A messenger raced into the tent and handed it to Lowellmina. She
carefully broke the wax seal, looked over the contents, and—
“—Wonderful,” she breathed out with a sweet smile. “As always,
Wein, you know exactly what I seek.”
“Your Highness, what is…?”

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“We’ve won the game. Send a message to Grinahae. We’ll stay at the
border for now. Ah, and fudge our numbers, so we seem bigger than
we actually are.”
What was written in that letter, and what was happening in the
West? From what Fyshe could tell by Lowellmina’s attitude, Prince
Wein must have messed up again somehow.
Charmed by her mistress’s cheerful mood, Fyshe bowed politely.

“The Imperial army…”

“…Is it waiting along the borders of Natra…?!”
It was totally unexpected. Everyone had their eyes on Mealtars,
thinking it was at the center of events. All other places had been
overlooked, making the perfect opportunity for a surprise attack. It
was an ambush. The Holy Elites panicked, and—
“Oh my. We’re in a pickle, huh?”
They noticed Wein’s blasé attitude and understood…that this was his
doing.
“Prince Wein, this is—”
“Yes. As you all fear, the Empire might launch a simultaneous attack.
Cavarin is not the only target; my own kingdom is under threat, too.
It appears the sleeping dragon has woken up ravenous,” Wein
explained brazenly.
Miroslav broke into a roar. “Why would Natra be under attack?! You
and the Empire are on friendly terms!”
“You might say our friendship is over. They are a group of cowards
who killed Prince Tigris, after all. A sudden betrayal isn’t out of line.”
It’s a bluff, everyone told themselves.

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The Empire had no intention of attacking the border of Natra. They
were only keeping their forces there to make it look like they were
cooperating with the Imperial army in Mealtars.
And in truth, they predicted right.
Damn, Lowa is too smart for her own good.
A letter had arrived several days before the Gathering resumed. It
was from Lowellmina to Wein. She had caught wind of Prince
Bardloche’s activities, predicted Wein’s present situation, and placed
her own troops along the border. Her message was essentially, Pay
me if you want me to keep them there. ★
Wein immediately wrote down a price in response. She was probably
reading it right now.
“…I understand the gravity of the situation,” Caldmellia stated. Her
gaze was somewhat sharper than before. “But this does not change
what must be done. We have to combine our armies and overthrow
the Empire.”
It was a reasonable proposition. This was a sudden turn of events,
and an already dangerous enemy had become a greater threat. That
said, they were still up against the same beast as before.
…That’s exactly why something feels off, Miroslav thought as he felt
a trickle of sweat run down his back.
This had to be a bluff, but since they had no proof, Miroslav could
only accept Wein’s story that the Imperial troops had suddenly
appeared on his borders.
The problem was how to address this situation.
“—Heh.”
Miroslav suddenly heard a small laugh and looked over at Gruyere.
Had he picked up on something?

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Wein spoke up. “You’re right, Caldmellia. Our objective has not
changed. However, there is one more matter I wish to discuss.
Would you mind?”
“Not at all. What could it be?” she asked.
Wein beamed. “—Both Natra and Cavarin are under attack by the
Empire. Which one will we save?”
Everyone at the table finally realized Wein’s plan.

Who is this beast…?!

Skrei was in awe of Wein.
Just moments ago, Wein was being forced to choose between East
and West.
But now, the script had flipped. The Holy Elites had to make a
momentous decision of their own and pick between Natra or
Cavarin.
It’s unbelievable… Did he know this would happen?!
It was terrifying. Skrei couldn’t help but tremble at the horror.
Wein’s statement had just placed Cavarin back in a critical position.
“…Cavarin, obviously, if we need to pick a side!” Miroslav called out
next to Skrei and in visible torment. “There’s already open hostility,
and the aristocrats are running loose in Cavarin. We should focus on
overpowering them and reestablishing order!”
“In that case, I will relinquish the role of supreme commander,” Wein
replied. “As the crown prince of Natra, I must protect my kingdom. If
this alliance is going to forsake Natra, I will return to my country and
fight the Empire on my own.”
“Grr…!”

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 Right. If I prioritize my own nation, Prince Wein will do the same for
Natra.
In a logical sense, Miroslav was right; their combined forces should
head for Cavarin first. After all, Natra had a secret arrangement with
the Empire, so the country wasn’t in imminent danger. There was no
proof, however, of this hidden agenda, and if the Holy Elites publicly
announced a preference for Cavarin, both Wein and Natra would
demand justice for the West abandoning them in their time of need.
If maybe, just maybe, all of this was part of his strategy… That
would mean the Holy Elites fell into Wein’s trap as they were trying to
corner him themselves…!

No way in hell…!
Miroslav rejected the same concerns as Skrei.
He couldn’t have predicted something so complicated! He took
advantage of the situation and talked his way out of trouble! If we can
get his back against the wall, I know his cover will be blown!
Miroslav was trying to convince himself. He wasn’t certain about it.
He knew that vaguely, but he couldn’t stop himself.
“It’s not like we’re abandoning Natra! It’s just a matter of priority!”
“For a small country like Natra, that can be fatal, Prince Miroslav. If
you believe Natra has the strength to oppose the Empire on its own,
I am afraid you’re sorely mistaken.”
“…Fine! Then we’ll split up the army!” Miroslav shouted, slamming
the table. “We’ll send some to Cavarin and some to Natra and fight
the Empire on both sides.”
“I can’t accept that,” Gruyere cut in next to him. “Dispersing our
troops is moronic. Plus, our enemy is the Empire. I’m firmly
opposed.”

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You bloody swiiiiiiine! Miroslav cursed Gruyere, as the king sneered
at him. If he’d had it on him, Miroslav would have drawn his sword
then and there, but this Gathering had a “no weapons” rule.
There was a part of him, however, that knew he wouldn’t have made
it further than unsheathing his blade. During the last conference King
Ordalasse had died. And now, Prince Tigris. He knew another death,
including Wein’s, would totally destroy the Gathering of the Chosen.
What should I do?! It’s not like I can ditch Cavarin! But if I do that,
Wein will leave the Gathering!
Maybe he could drive Natra away and make an enemy out of them.
No, that was a mistake waiting to happen. From this incident alone,
Miroslav understand that getting on Wein’s bad side wouldn’t end
well. The safer option was for Wein to stay neutral and divide his
attention between East and West.
Not to mention the fact that if any country sympathizes with Natra,
we run the risk of souring relationships in the West…!
The one with most potential to do that was Soljest Kingdom. The
giant of a king could be both levelheaded and impulsive. Gruyere
seemed like the type of person who’d say, Sure, why not join Wein
and destroy the West? just for fun.
Shit! What do I do…?!
As he watched Miroslav brood in misery next to him, Agata remained
relatively calm.
So what is Prince Wein plotting next?
At the moment, Wein was threatening them by playing a certain
card—one that said, I’ll leave if you don’t pick me. Is that what you
really want? You sure? It was Wein who would be in trouble if they
did choose Natra.

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 Will you work something out to your favor as consolation for the
Holy Elite prioritizing Cavarin? Your aim is to maintain your alliance
with the Empire, but this involves both the West and the Empire. Even
if the West will allow it, I doubt the Empire will thank you for defying
them by joining an allied army.
If Wein had intended on heading into the Empire, he would have
hurried and left the table already. The fact he was still here meant he
had some goal in mind. Unlike a short while ago, however, Agata
could not sense any desire in Wein to go forth and engage the
enemy.
If anything, it’s like he’s waiting for something…
Agata gasped.
It can’t be…Is that your end game?!
Agata looked at the prince with wide eyes. Wein turned to him and
grinned.

—YOU GOT IT!

Wein was buying time.
From the get-go, this alliance was made on the assumption that the
Empire would attack Cavarin. But in reality, that’s never gonna
happen!
Everyone across the continent knew that the recent civil war had
sapped the Empire of its strength. This applied to each of the
Imperial children’s factions, too. If you asked Lowellmina to invade
Cavarin, she’d reply, Seriously? Not now. Could we wait until spring?
This was the case for Bardloche’s army in Mealtars, too. If he wanted
to invade, he’d need a constant stream of supplies and people, but
his faction couldn’t afford it at the moment. Even if Bardloche tried
to mobilize troops outside his own faction, he was not Emperor and

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therefore had no authority to do so. If anything, it wouldn’t be
strange at all if he was criticized for acting on his own authority and
quickly brought to the Imperial prime minister.
Now that Bardloche has rushed to Mealtars’s aid and made a show
out of chasing out Cavarin, his job is done. If he gets into a real battle
now, it’s gonna wear his faction out.
Once that happened, Lowellmina would have a scheme ready that
sounded something like, You were so brave to bear the brunt of the
attack, brother. Anyway, I have a shady deal for you that will keep
you stuck on the front lines until you’re crushed. Wein had to avoid
this at all costs, so he was guesstimating when and how Bardloche
would withdraw.
The aristocrats from Cavarin running wild right now are still just a
tiny fraction of the nobility.
Even Caldmellia couldn’t get every noble in the country caught up in
her backdoor schemes. It wouldn’t be long before a subjugation
army came together to take them down. If the merchants of
Mealtars made concessions, this would speed up the process even
further.
In other words, as long as I just hang around here, I’ll be home free!
If there weren’t any more surprises, the aristocrats would be
defeated, Bardloche would withdraw, and the allied army would lose
its reason to attack. Skrei would have a good cry afterward, but that
was no big deal.
Well, like I said before coming here— I’m going to make this
Gathering of the Chosen the most draining, pointless, and
unproductive meeting ever.
Wein opened his mouth to throw the Gathering into further disarray.
—Then, a full week passed.

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The Gathering of the Chosen was becoming a series of rabbit trails.
When this rumor first made its way around the city, most people
laughed it off. Then, a week passed by, and no news came from the
Agency of the Holy King, even though the Holy Elite were meeting
every day.
It was obvious to everyone why the Gathering of the Chosen had
suddenly run aground.
“What’s going on with that fight in Mealtars?”
“I hear they’re combining armies.”
“You know, I heard people have been stockpiling food.”
“Sh-should we stash some away, too?”
Anxiety gripped the townspeople, and some began to act on their
own. Only the minority, however. Most of the citizens continued to
pray that the representatives of the West, the Holy Elites, would
quickly come up with a plan of action.

Page | 163
Page | 164
Their prayers, unfortunately, were in vain. The Gathering of the
Chosen was all over the place. There was still a semblance of
conversation up until the third day, but after that, each person
gradually grew more taciturn. Now on the seventh day, a suffocating
silence hung over the meeting hall.
No one said a word anymore. After all, Wein deftly circumvented
each and every subject.
Damn you, Wein…!
Miroslav gritted his teeth. The past seven days had been a waste of
time. All attempts at conversation were either interrupted or
stopped before they began.
Wein wasn’t the only culprit. On the third day, Gruyere and Agata—
those who were against joining forces—hopped on board Wein’s
time-killing strategy. On top of that, the two people who could
oppose them—Caldmellia and Steel—removed themselves from the
conversation. Even Skrei grew increasingly passive and began to
think they were better off waiting for the situation to peter out than
discussing an alliance among them.
By this point, Miroslav was the only one still actively voicing the
threat the Empire posed, and nothing of value was lost. He was
better off excusing himself from this colossal waste of time, but
nothing in the situation had been resolved yet. There was a chance
that a big development might occur after he withdrew and allowed
the other Holy Elites to turn the conversation in their favor while he
was away. He’d be a fool to leave now.

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So this was the result. Several heads of state and similar leaders
were submerged together in this unbearable bog of silence. Wein
was the only one who still had any life in him.
If I could at least get Caldmellia and Steel on my side…
Since Caldmellia was the first to suggest the alliance, Miroslav really
could have used her help, but she offered no such thing. Probably
because she could immediately tell Wein would flip it around on
them and turn their hopes to dust.
In addition, you could never tell what Steel was thinking. But since he
agreed with Caldmellia’s plan, Miroslav figured the man would put
up a bit of a fight against Wein—
…Huh?
It was then that Miroslav noticed Steel was absent from the round
table.
He had definitely been there when they’d initially gathered for the
day. When did he get up? Steel didn’t seem like the type of person to
get fed up with the stagnant discussion and go home.
Steel appeared in the doorway at this moment.
“How did it go, Duke Steel?”
“It’s arrived.” Steel smiled and answered Caldmellia’s question with a
nod.
The conversation cut through the stale air and piqued the interests
of the Holy Elites.
“What’s arrived, Duke Steel?” Miroslav asked.
“A report from the army I dispatched to Mealtars.”
Although Steel’s nonchalant answer was brief, it took Miroslav
several seconds to process this information.
“…Wait! What’re you talking about, Duke Steel?!”

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“I’m the one who made the request when we first heard the Imperial
army had appeared in Mealtars,” Caldmellia interrupted with a sweet
smile. “It would be terrible if the Empire attacked Cavarin while we
are still discussing our plan of action. I asked Duke Steel to send
reinforcements for the time being.”
“Please wait! Couldn’t you have mentioned this to me?!” Skrei
exclaimed. Even he hadn’t been included in the conversation.
“I do apologize. If I had made this information too public, it would
have brought unnecessary trouble,” Caldmellia answered as she
glanced over at Wein. “I did it to protect the good people of the
West from the evil influence of the Empire. I hope you can
understand.”
“B-but anyone would see entry into my nation without prior warning
as an invasion! What if they had encountered my own forces en
route?”
“They would understand once they read the letter from His
Holiness,” Steel replied. “Besides, if they did present a problem, I was
instructed to turn everything to ash, so we were certain to arrive in
Mealtars without issue.”
“Wha…?!”
It was a one-sided argument. Skrei was disgusted rather than
enraged. He knew “turn to ash” referred to not only the entire army
of Cavarin but Mealtars as well. If Mealtars burned, the Empire
would never take it lying down. What did any of this have to do with
sending reinforcements to Cavarin? Caldmellia and Steel couldn’t
have cared less about the outcome of the Gathering. They’d been
planning to start a war between East and West since the very
beginning.
“So how are things, Duke Steel?”

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“Just a moment.” Steel looked at everyone and opened a letter. After
looking over the contents for a few moments, his lips broke into a
small smile.
“—Marvelous,” he said, his gaze reaching farther down the table.
“You’ve predicted everything correctly, Prince Wein.”
Everyone present widened their eyes, and they turned to look at
Wein in his seat.
Wein smirked as the Holy Elites stared at him.

“…So, you shall withdraw under these conditions.”

Meanwhile… In the mayor’s office in the merchant city of Mealtars,
Cosimo squared off with Prince Bardloche.
“I’ll hold up my end of the bargain… But this is a fortune.”
“We understand that we must pay heavily for our mistakes.”
After Cosimo returned to Mealtars, he immediately met with
Bardloche, who was the representative of the stationed soldiers.
While he was grateful to them for protecting Mealtars, Cosimo
demanded that they withdraw without needlessly antagonizing the
army from Cavarin once the legion of aristocrats was suppressed.
The negotiations proceeded smoothly. Bardloche had been looking
for a moment to withdraw since the very beginning, and Cosimo had
prepared a budget to facilitate a speedy resolution. By promising
their support as a token of appreciation for defending the city, the
deal was swiftly finalized.
“Then, I’ll give the orders to withdraw. You—and your merchants—
should take this opportunity to do more than chase money and build
needless resentment.”
“Yes. We’ll take that to heart.”

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Bardloche practically skipped out of the room. Soon after Cosimo
watched him go, a door connecting to the adjacent room creaked
open, and a face peeked out.
“Is it over?”
“It’s all been finalized.” Cosimo nodded as he looked at Falanya.
“Thank goodness. It would have been terrible if things took a turn for
the worse.”
Falanya let out a sigh of relief. She had left Lushan for Mealtars with
Cosimo just as Wein had instructed.
“Everything went just as Wein planned, didn’t it?”
“Yes. I would expect no less of the crown prince,” Cosimo replied.
“I’m shocked. To think he’d get both the Empire and Patura
involved.”

The sea breeze stroked his cheek. It was a familiar sensation and
scent.
“I finally feel like I’ve come home now that we’re on the sea.”
Felite stood on the deck of a ship as they bobbed along the ocean.
“Was Lushan not to your liking?” asked the young girl named Apis,
who served as his aide.
“It was an interesting change of pace, but this sea is my true home,”
Felite replied, gazing out over the vast open sea. “Anyway, is the
cargo safe?”
“Yes. The goods have been loaded on the prepared ships, which have
safely departed. You know, I can’t believe we rounded up any and all
available ships without much notice.”

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“You don’t say. Prince Wein seems to only operate on a destructively
large scale,” he agreed with a smile, nodding.
“Who would ever guess he’d buy up all the surplus food in the
West?”

“…This is not good,” Lowellmina grumbled in a tent set up in the

corner of an encampment along the borders of Natra.
“What’s the matter, Your Highness?” Fyshe meekly asked upon
noticing her lady’s grave look.
Lowellmina’s expression was dead serious. “…I think I’ve gained
weight.”
Fyshe silently turned on her heel.
“Fyshe! Wait! I’m not finished!”
“My loyalty has run dry.”
“This is serious! Listen, I’m an Imperial Princess and the leader of my
faction! That means I’m the Empire’s greatest superstar! If I’m seen
as a clumsy girl who can’t even take care of herself, my image and
popularity will plummet! I must investigate the cause posthaste!”
“I see.” Fyshe nodded, though it was clear she couldn’t care less. “In
other words, you have no idea what caused your little stomach
pouch?”
“None whatsoever!”
“Maybe you could try and remember how you have been spending
your time here?”
“Umm, since this isn’t a real camp, I’ve been shopping and eating in
the nearby town, comparing local specialty dishes from different
shops, and staying at hot spring resorts.”

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“Well then, if you’ll excuse me.”
“FYYYYYSHE!” Lowellmina cried, grabbing Fyshe’s sleeve. “Don’t you
think it’s strange?! We’ve both been doing the same thing, so if I’m
gaining weight, shouldn’t you, too?!”
“Ah, it seems all nutrients go straight to my chest.”
“…Dark emotions flood me! I now understand why politicians purge
their vassals…!”
As Lowellmina radiated a murderous aura, Fyshe let out a heavy sigh
and thrust a letter in front of her face.
“This just arrived. It seems that Prince Bardloche has begun to move
from Mealtars.”
“Hmph… It’s about time.” Lowellmina looked over the letter
haughtily.
“—Very well. Please tell Grinahae to withdraw the troops.”
“Understood… It seems we will return to the palace triumphant.”
“Indeed. Thanks, Wein,” Lowellmina replied. “We’re going to
normalize diplomatic relations with Patura. If this succeeds, I’ll
manage to keep my faction in check.”

Buy up all the food in the West.

This was what immediately came to mind as soon as Wein heard
what was happening in Mealtars. If he could buy time, Bardloche
would withdraw. Wein was confident he could stall the Gathering of
the Chosen.
However, what if some of the Holy Elites dismissed the meeting?
What if they sent soldiers without telling anyone? What if the
Gathering was tabled and war slowly broke out?

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This concern compelled Wein to buy up all the food. Even the best
army in the world couldn’t do anything without food. Not to mention
it was the end of fall. Winter would soon be upon them, and this was
the time everyone would be stockpiling food to last until spring in
cities and villages. Surplus food was diminishing all across the West,
and Wein knew that if he bought this up, all armies would be
rendered immobile.
So, the next question was finding sales channels and assets. He had a
solution to these, too—Lushan’s geographic terrain and the
merchants of Mealtars.
Lushan was the heart of the Western continent, and it had routes
leading to every nation in the West. The merchants from the central
city had contacts all across the land and asset to spares. If Wein
could use them, his plan stood more than a fair chance of
succeeding.
Keyword: if.
Even if it’s to save Mealtars, I doubt the merchants will be eager to
help me. Besides, even if I can use the market to buy up food, where
am I going to put all of it? Mealtars is locked in battle, so there’s no
way I can send it there.
A missive arrived while Wein mulled over this. A message from
Lowellmina that said, I’ll help you out in return for a favor. When
Wein saw this, inspiration struck.
Lowellmina needs a triumph to show off, and Felite wants to bridge
their gap with the Empire! What if I can mediate between the two and
improve relations? Lowellmina would get her victory! Felite would lend
me boats to transport the food! And I could sell the information about
the normalization to the merchants of Mealtars!
Wein immediately got to work, contacting Falanya and Cosimo and
convincing the merchants by offering information in exchange for
sales outlets and assets. He met with Felite, who, in exchange for

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Wein’s mediation, agreed to pack away the food bought by the
merchants on boats and temporarily store it in Patura. Wein then
promised Lowellmina that he would act as a liaison and proceeded to
deal with the Gathering in a way that would buy time for his plans to
line up—
“My army’s food supply has stagnated, and it seems they have
determined it is impossible to advance. I bet it’s the same for any
country that attempts to mobilize their forces. Military activity will
be impossible until next year.”
Steel’s tone was bright and clear. Even though he’d been caught in
Wein’s machinations, he seemed delighted.
Buying up all the food… If that’s really what’s going on, then it’ll be
impossible to maintain a long-term campaign even if our armies can
operate for the time being. We could commandeer all the towns’
supplies, but—
Miroslav got that far and shook his head. If their allied armies did
that, famine would spread through the West and give rise to distrust
and mutiny against Levetia. The alliance was meant to safeguard the
safety and order of the West. Such an act would be getting their
priorities backward.
What’s going on…?! Did he seriously predict all this?!
A chill ran down Miroslav’s spine. Wein had seemed like a normal
man, but now he came off as an unfathomable monster.
“—Fwa-ha-ha-ha!” Gruyere suddenly broke into laughter. He
continued chortling and snapped his fingers. His attendants raced
over with a pedestal and balanced it on their shoulders as Gruyere
hefted himself on to it.
“That was an engaging spectacle. Well, time to head home.”
“K-King Gruyere?! The Gathering isn’t over yet!”

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“Oh, but it is. It ended just now. There’s nothing else to see here.”
Gruyere briefly looked at Miroslav, who was baffled by his actions,
and casually left the meeting hall. All the Holy Elites were shocked. It
was Steel who spoke.
“Shall we proceed, Lady Caldmellia?”
“…No. As King Gruyere has mentioned, there is nothing more to
discuss.”
Steel nodded and turned next to Wein. “Prince Wein. You’re sublime.
I do hope you’ll play with me next time.”
“I would rather enjoy a peaceful life.”
“Boooring… Oh, I know. In that case, I shall enjoy your younger
sister’s company instead.”
“…Come again?” Wein asked, his face twisting in displeasure.
“Heh-heh. Well then, until next time.” Steel gave one last radiant
smile before leaving the Gathering.
“…I shall hurry to my homeland as well. I must restore order.”
Skrei was the next to leave. Miroslav followed suit and stood.
“I’ll help you as much as I can.”
“Thank you, Prince Miroslav.”
In the end, Skrei was never appointed as a Holy Elite, and his country
was a mess. It was a terrible outcome, considering it would take him
substantial time and money to rebuild his nation.
But maybe he should thank his lucky stars, even though evil forces of
nature had their fun with him. After all, a Holy Elite had been killed
both during the last two Gatherings.

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“…You’re as resourceful as the rumors say,” Agata said once Skrei
and Miroslav had left. “I see promise in you. There is something I
wish to discuss. Let’s meet later.”
And with that, Agata departed. Only Wein, Caldmellia, and the Holy
King remained.
“I suppose I have lost again, Prince Wein,” Caldmellia said. “It
appears you are my greatest playmate.”
“…I couldn’t want anything less.”
“It doesn’t change the fact that you are. After all, you’ve weeded out
the rest, leaving only myself behind.”
“Oh?” Wein took a step toward Caldmellia. “And what makes you
think you won’t join them here and now?”
“Do you want to try? I would not mind.”
They glared at each other for a few seconds. However, no clash
ensued, and Wein turned on his heel with a snort.
“Later. I pray we never meet again.”
Caldmellia giggled, watching him walk away.
“Where do our prayers go in this godless world—?”

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“Aaah…”
In a room of the manor prepared for her by Cosimo, Falanya melted
on to her desk like syrup.
“We rushed out of Lushan to Mealtars and had to enter the city
without getting caught by the army of Cavarin… I’m spent…”
“The plan worked, though,” replied her guard, Nanaki, from the
shadows. “What’s next? Are we heading back?”
“Ah, right… I was thinking we could stay a bit longer. I wasn’t able to
see everything last time.”
Of course, everything depended on whether Cosimo gave his
consent.
Sirgis was also standing by at attention. He spoke up. “Well, I shall
send a letter to Prince Wein stating this.”
“Thank you, Sirgis,” Falanya answered. “You’ve been a great help to
me throughout this entire matter. I was right to invite you.”
“You’re far too kind,” Sirgis returned with a respectful bow.
Falanya smiled. “Ah, and that surprised me. —To think you and my
brother would have the same idea.”

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Back in Lushan, Sirgis had proposed to Falanya and Cosimo that they
should interfere with the armies’ advance by using Mealtars’s sales
channels and money to buy up all surplus food in the West.
This coincidence was surprising enough, but she was shocked when
he explained Wein’s plan, which turned out to be the same exact
thing.
The two hadn’t spoken beforehand, but Wein and Sirgis had come to
the same conclusion using their own experiences.
“…My plan lacked the mediation between Princess Lowellmina and
Patura. I doubt this would have worked otherwise. I could never
compare to Prince Wein, who folded in the entire continent into his
plan.”
“But now I know how much I need your counsel. I look forward to
working with you further, Sirgis.”
“Yes…I shall try my best.”
Sirgis then left the room to prepare the letter. Falanya noticed
Nanaki’s eyes had remained glued to Sirgis’s back.
“Nanaki, do you still not trust him?”
“There’s no reason to.”
“Hmph…” Falanya pouted.
“But he does fill a role I can’t. I’ll just get rid of him if he becomes a
problem.”
“Don’t say stuff like that. You have to get along.”
Falanya trembled with anger, and Nanaki gave her a side glance and
he continued to stare at Sirgis beyond the door.
Sirgis walked down the empty hallway.

Page | 177
 I was abandoned by my country, betrayed by my faith, and
forgotten by the world, and yet, by some twist of fate, my enemy’s
younger sister took me in…
An outsider might predict that this would make him hate Wein more
and drive him to find the opportunity to kill the prince in his sleep.
And this was mostly true.
Is there a God? If so, what is He telling me to do? I don’t know
anymore.
In that case, he thought, I’ll just follow my own heart.
“…There are two exceptional members of the royal family. But only
one can inherit the throne.” Sirgis’s gaze turned west. Toward
Lushan and Wein. “I’ll put the naive little princess—my savior—on
the throne whether she likes it or not. This will be my revenge. Don’t
you call me a coward, Wein Salema Arbalest—”

The large carriage rumbled down the road. Inside was the hulking
boulder of a person. Gruyere, king of Soljest.
“What are you moping for, Tolcheila?”
Across from Gruyere sat Tolcheila, who was the size of a small pebble
in comparison. Her profile was somewhat rigid as she looked out the
window.
He faced his daughter. “Let me guess, Tolcheila. You underestimated
the princess of Natra. Are you panicking now that you can tell she
has the jump on you?”
“…!” Her face twitched.
Gruyere watched her genially and pressed on. “If the events in
Mealtars last year were the only thing going for her, you could have
claimed it was beginner’s luck. But now the princess has secured

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Sirgis as her aide, and she played a big role this time, too. She’s
raining all over your parade, huh?”
“……”
“Don’t worry. You’re my adorable daughter. Even if you end up a
miserable loser, I won’t say anything. I’ll find you a kindhearted
husband who can heal your broken heart.”
“Father,” Tolcheila began, her eyes burning with a fiery rage. “Mock
me further, and I shan’t forgive you.”
Gruyere took her fury in stride. “Be angry and upset all you want;
time stops for no one. If you want something, your only option is to
reach for it before anyone else. So what will you do, Tolcheila? Are
you going to let the beast inside you sleep forever?”
“…Oh, this is bad,” she murmured with a smile. “I was just asking
myself what I wish to do and what must be done to that end.”
Tolcheila looked straight at her father. “And the answer is shocking.
My earlier statement about my greatest adversary has come true—
Father, you are in the way of my desires.”
Gruyer smiled once again. “Does that make you sad, Tolcheila?”
“No, Father. I have never been more zealous.”
“Wonderful,” Gruyere replied with heartfelt joy. “In that case, I will
repeat myself as well. I will be your trial from here on out. Challenge
me in the name of your greed and desires—”

“Well then, Master Felite, what shall we do about all those

provisions?”
The Patura Islands. Apis and Felite were in the fortress where Wein
was once captured. It was now where the government operated out
of.

Page | 179
“We managed to put everything away, but the storehouses are
completely full. Nothing else will fit. We’re already getting
complaints,” she added.
“No need to worry. We’ll send it to Mealtars in time,” Felite
answered brightly.
Apis wasn’t convinced. “Are you sure? I have a feeling even they’ll
refuse these quantities.”
“They won’t. After all, each of the Western nations is going to suffer
a food shortage in the winter. The requests will come pouring in.”
“A food shortage? Why…? Ah, I see. They sold too much of their
supply, haven’t they?”
Felite nodded. “Selling more means less in reserve. It’s an obvious
principle, but it’s also easy to forget under the spell of money. Many
cities and villages sell as much as they possibly can, resulting in
increased poverty.”
Apis’s face puckered up. “…People will think we’re manufacturing
this famine to sell them back their food at a higher price. Won’t that
make Mealtars the enemy in their eyes?”
“That’s why Mealtars reached out to us. They said they’ll sell the
food to us wholesale for a cheap price.” Felite smiled wryly. “We’re
the middleman to help ease people’s anger.”
“That makes sense. They would have to calculate how far the famine
has reached and the amount of food they would need to buy.”
Just then, a messenger entered the room. “Pardon me, Master Felite.
An emissary has just arrived by ship. They request an audience with
you.”
“An emissary? Apis?”
“…There is nothing scheduled for today.”

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So this was a sudden visitor. Intrigued, Felite questioned the
messenger further.
“Did they state their business?”
“They wish…to buy the food we imported from Mealtars.”
Both Felite’s and Apis’s expressions immediately darkened.
Patura had food. They wanted it. That was fine.
But this was all happening way too fast.
“…Where is the emissary from?”
The messenger answered this question timidly.
“Eastern Levetia—”

Footsteps echoed in the dim audience hall. The desolate sound came
from the shoes of Gospel Director Caldmellia.
“Your Holiness, everything has been taken care of.”
She attended to Holy King Silverio, who sat upon his throne. The
mute figure in front of Caldmellia was no different from a lifeless
corpse.
“Tigris’s death has rattled the Kingdom of Velancia, but this is
nothing to be concerned over. In fact, the loss of his beloved younger
brother has finally sparked something in their king. As for the matter
of Natra—”
As Caldmellia gave her report, she suddenly sensed a presence
behind her. When she turned around, a silhouette stood against a
faint light. The tip of the sword in their hand dripped with crimson
blood.

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“I’ve finally tracked you down,” someone rasped. The shadow took a
step forward.
It was Tigris’s servant Fushto.
“I was after the fourth person at the scene. I found the evidence and
followed it here. To the Agency of the Holy King.”
Fushto pointed his sword at Caldmellia.
“Do you have anything to say for yourself? I’m listening.”
Although his tone was hushed, Fushto looked ready to kill. His
murderous desire would make anyone catch their breath.
“Well done.” Caldmellia looked like a holy mother when she smile.
“You’re right; I am the one who authorized Tigris’s death. Agata
would have made a fine target, too, but I specified that Tigris would
be the priority. After all, his departure was certain to make the
events here all the more interesting.”
“………”
Caldmellia did not see lives as lives. She spoke as if they were her
toys.
However, Fushto’s blade did not waver. His rage had frozen over,
turning into permanent bloodlust—something ice-cold.
“You shouldn’t walk into a place uninvited. Even if I am killed, you
will die, too. Do not throw your life away for nothing. There will be
lovely things ahead if you stay alive.”
“…How kind of you to care for the common folk,” Fushto replied.
“But someone like me—someone who let his master die—has no
place to return to. I will join you and present you to Master Tigris on
the other side—!”

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Fushto kicked off the ground. His rage shaved the exhaustion from
his body, and he closed in on Caldmellia like a gale. Then, as the dark
gray sword drew toward his hated enemy’s throat…
Fushto was cut in half.
“Ah—?”
As blood and entrails scattered through the space, Fushto slid across
the ground.
What happened?
The answer was the shadow of a small figure next to Caldmellia that
abruptly stood.
“Holy King…Silverio…”
Silverio held a staff in one hand. It was more like a scabbard shaped
like a staff. In his other, there was a faintly luminescent blade.
It can’t be…
Fushto remembered a certain story, his consciousness fading. It was
about one of Holy King Silverio’s achievements, an anecdote about
how he had taken on a fortress of thieves by himself and brilliantly
convinced them to open the gates. This was nothing more than a
urban legend. Silverio never convinced the thieves; he just killed
every single one of them.
I failed you until the very end… Please forgive me, Master Tigris…
With an apology to his departed master, Fushto’s consciousness
disappeared forever.
“…It’s a shame.”
Unbothered by the blood staining her clothes, Caldmellia knelt by
the dead servant and gently closed his eyes. This gesture was filled
with unmistakable sympathy for the dead.
“If you had lived, we could have had more fun…”

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Next to her, Silverio soundlessly sheathed his sword. Leaning against
the sword-staff, he spoke. “Mellia.”
Caldmellia instantly responded to her name and faced him. “Yes,
Your Holiness?”
“That prince of Natra keeps a Flahm girl by his side, correct?”
“Yes. I hear Prince Wein favors her.”
“Look into her background,” Silverio ordered. “There is something
about that girl. My intuition whispers to me…”
“Understood,” Caldmellia replied with neither resistance nor doubt.
Silverio’s word was law. That was the basis of their relationship.
“Please leave everything to me. I shall do as Your Holiness
commands—”

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Page | 185
“Wein, we’re finished preparing for the return trip home. We can
head out tomorrow.”
“Super. We can finally get outta this joint.”
In a room of their temporary estate, Wein and Ninym breathed a sigh
of relief.
“I’m glad things turned out okay, but it was total chaos for a while
there,” Ninym noted.
“No kidding. I swear I’m cursed or something. When we get home,
I’m gonna go to a church and douse myself with holy water.”
“Any idea who could have cursed you?”
“Too many to count.”
“Can’t argue that,” Ninym said with a wry smile.
“Siiiiiigh… Who knows what’s gonna happen trading-wise now that
I’ve patched things up between the Empire and Patura…? I mean,
there was no way around it, but I can’t even sell my Imperial goods
anymore…”
“Right, our trade partners. Didn’t any of the Holy Elites seem
promising?”
“Yeah, but he died.”
“Besides Prince Tigris.”
“Nah… Oh, wait. Yeah, maybe one.”
Then, a knock came at the door, and a servant entered the room.
“Y-Your Highness. A guest seeks an audience with you.”

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“Who?” Wein asked the frazzled man.
“The Holy Elite Sir Agata.”
“…Got it. Show him in.”
The servant obeyed Wein and ushered Agata inside.
“I apologize for showing up unannounced, Prince Wein.”
“Hey, we were both just screwed over by Caldmellia. This is nothing,”
Wein replied. “So you mentioned something back at the round table;
what do you want to discuss?”
“Indeed.” Agata nodded. “As you know, I represent the group of city-
states that make up the Ulbeth Alliance. And in truth, the Alliance is
on the verge of collapse.”
“Sorry to hear that… What’s going on?”
“It isn’t easy to explain. However, I believe this collapse is my
chance.”
Agata took a step forward.
“I plan to take advantage of the Alliance’s demise and unify the cities
into one nation. Prince Wein, I am here to ask for your aid—”
And thus, the Gathering of the Chosen drew to a close. It was quite a
long one. Tigris had died. Cavarin fell into chaos. One situation
triggered another. The people said not a single good thing came out
of the Gathering.
Future historians would know the truth. This meeting sprouted the
seeds of mayhem.
And Prince Wein was at the center of it all—

Page | 187
Hello, it’s been a while. I’m Toru Toba.
Thank you for picking up The Genius Prince’s Guide to Raising a
Nation Out of Debt (Hey, How About Treason?), Volume 8. You might
have guessed the theme was “Rematch: Round 2”! Volume 7 marked
Wein’s rematch with the Empire. This time, the Gathering of the
Chosen—something in the works since Volume 3—is the stage,
where he fights against the Holy Elites who rule the West. Wein was
treated like an outsider during the last conference, but he’ll now take
his rightful seat at the table. I hope you enjoy finding out how he
bests the Holy Elites.
It’s well into fall as I write this afterword, and this book is supposed
to be released in winter. It’s been a turbulent year for everyone to
say the least, but I hope the coming year will be a bit kinder to us. I’ll
keep on praying.
Well, even if things do get better, I’m sure I’ll be hounded by
deadlines as usual…
It’s time for me to share my thanks and apologies.
To my editor, Ohara. I know I’m always causing you trouble. Even
though my schedule was much more forgiving this time, I’m so sorry
that I just barely made it to the finish line. It’s weird… It really
shouldn’t be like this…
To my illustrator, Falmaro. Thank you as always for your wonderful
illustrations. A lot of important characters made their debut in this
volume, and the insert pages were packed. Thank you for handling all
my unreasonable demands, including the character designs.
A big thank-you also to all my readers. Now that we’re on Volume 8,
no one would argue that it’s not a long-running series. I’ve only been

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able to come this far because of your support. I look forward to
continuing the series. I hope you’ll stay with me until the end.
Emuda’s manga adaptation is available to read on the Manga UP!
app. The second volume of the manga is coming out in the same
month as this book. I hope you check it out!
Volume 9 is next. I’ll probably keep going with this plotline. I think I’d
like to delve more into the Holy Elites introduced in this volume and
spin new stories. These are just my thoughts, though. Nothing is set
in stone!
At any rate, I will do my best to surprise you even more. Let’s meet
again in the next volume.

Page | 189
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