‘The royal family’s secret treasure…’
It wasn’t all that unusual. Among nobles and the wealthy, setting up emergency stashes “just in case” wasn’t rare.
The Pellenberg family itself had several secret vaults—not just across the Empire, but also in other kingdoms.
That’s why Fernan’s greed only grew.
The Kingdom of Linelt was by no means a weak country. Just thinking about how much gold and wealth their secret treasure might hold was a delight.
‘It’s mine. All of it.’
And if, in exchange, he saved a kingdom that should already be destroyed, it wouldn’t be a loss for the princess either.
In the end, it was mutually beneficial.
“So you’re saying there are cultists hiding in the Kingdom of Linelt?”
“I believe Your Highness knows that better than I do.”
The prophecy book mentioned it. By now, Princess Yuli was already aware that cultists were rotting the kingdom from within.
And yet, she didn’t dare expose them publicly; she must have her reasons.
“……”
Just as expected, she didn’t deny it; she merely bit her lip hard.
“How do you know? Do you have spies in the kingdom…?”
“I was there when Kimaris descended and attacked Bercheff. I was also there when Andrealphus appeared at the Academy. Do you think all that was just coincidence?”
“Of course not.”
The Andrealphus incident could be considered “natural” since it happened at the Academy. But Kimaris was different.
“What is it you’re really after?”
“I already told you—to eliminate the cultists infiltrating the Kingdom of Linelt.”
“No. I mean what you want to gain from it.”
At her words, Fernan smiled without hesitation.
“I followed the cultists’ trail here. What else would a Pellenberg want?”
He joined his thumb and index finger into a circle.
“At least you’re honest.”
“It’s my greatest virtue.”
“Then, what were you doing with Viscount Kyren?”
“I was merely trying to extract some information.”
“Information?”
“About the cultists, let’s say.”
But Yuli’s distrustful gaze didn’t ease.
Perhaps she thought Fernan might be in league with the second prince to set her up. Truthfully, the timing was just too perfect.
Fernan slowly turned the wineglass under the moonlight.
“I understand it’s still hard for you to trust me. But soon, I’ll prove my innocence, and we’ll be able to build mutual trust.”
“Soon?”
“I won’t spoil it. Gifts are best when unexpected.”
“Very well.”
She nodded.
In the end, Yuli Linelt had no choice but to accept. She knew the kingdom was rotting from within.
“If what you show me is enough to earn my trust, I’ll believe you—and do everything I can to cooperate. If I want to meet you, where should I go?”
“That won’t be necessary. I’ll come find you.”
“I’ll keep today a secret.”
“I appreciate it.”
Fernan bowed his head. The princess gave him one last unsatisfied look before leaving the terrace.
Hyde asked:
“What happened earlier… Did you see a prophecy?”
“Yes.”
A smile formed on Fernan’s face. It had been a fruitful harvest—not only did he know what he would gain from saving the Kingdom of Linelt, but above all:
“Patrick Pirandello, Count of Pirandello.”
“That’s the cultist.”
“I want everything—how he lives, who he meets with, how much money he has, what his lands and businesses are like—even what color underwear he wears.”
“That last one might make the Black Turtles uncomfortable, but yes, I’ll follow the order.”
Hyde bowed his head. However, they couldn’t leave the terrace just yet.
“Hurry, Lycaon.”
“Why did you take off the dye right here, without even leaving the banquet yet?”
“How was I supposed to win her trust without showing my real face? It was a necessary investment.”
“If only you didn’t talk so much…”
“Is it time for your salary review already?”
“Next year.”
“Then complain next year.”
They returned to the banquet hall ten minutes later.
***
The next morning, Fernan skimmed through the newspapers, but none of them mentioned the Mercenary King’s visit to the palace.
That meant Gerlan Linelt was exercising strict control over the information.
Or at least, that’s what Fernan thought.
[Gerlan Linelt reached out to me again.
He accepts my proposal, but admits there are certain aspects that trouble him.
He only asked that my presence not be made public—if it became known that the royal family was delegating to outsiders, their prestige would be stained…]
That same day, through the Black Turtle network, a letter arrived from the Mercenary King.
Even though everything appeared quiet, the royal palace was actually boiling with activity.
The second prince, Gerlan Linelt, had secretly contacted the Mercenary King, hiding it from external eyes.
Very few people knew.
The important question was whether Patrick Pirandello was among them.
“Where is Count Pirandello now?”
“In the capital. As the regent’s chief advisor, he holds considerable power.”
As expected. Otherwise, he couldn’t possibly prepare a large-scale demon summoning ritual right from the capital.
Fernan opened the report.
[Patrick Pirandello, Count.
Lord of the County of Pirandello.
35 years old.
Dark blue hair and black eyes.
1.85 meters tall, sturdy build.
One of the top ten mages in the Kingdom of Linelt.
It was said that in his youth, he wasn’t particularly talented, but ten years ago he fell from a horse.
Since then, his magical ability has grown at an impressive rate.
(…)
Attractive, powerful, and influential, he was popular in high society.
He owned six mansions in the capital and had the extravagant habit of moving into a different one each day.]
“He changes mansions daily?”
“Yes. Here’s the map.”
Fernan unfolded a map of the capital, where all six mansions were marked in detail.
He instinctively connected the dots.
“…A six-pointed star.”
A symbol associated with demons.
And at the exact center— the royal palace.
Fernan let out a bitter laugh.
Wasn’t it a bit too obvious? But then again, the strange thing was him—without the prophecy book, he never would have suspected that Patrick Pirandello was a cultist or that he was preparing a ritual.
Anyone else would’ve just thought he was an eccentric rich man with too many houses.
“What now, young master?”
“What else? If someone goes through that much effort to tell us they’re hiding something, it would be rude to ignore it.”
The report even detailed which mansion he stayed in each day of the week, the guards, and the layout of each building.
“Wooden.”
Fernan awoke the golem resting in his necklace.
“It’s your turn.”
An almost undetectable spy.
— Kyuu!
That was Wooden.
***
A clear midday, not a single cloud in the sky.
Wooden stepped onto the road with determination.
— Kyu, kyu.
It had been a while since he’d moved on his own, and he was in a good mood. Returning to his original form to fight monsters was fun, but from time to time, he also enjoyed this kind of tension—moving around without being detected.
You could say they were different kinds of pleasure.
The last few years had been better than the hundreds he’d spent just wandering aimlessly. Wooden didn’t deny that choosing this body had been the best decision of his life.
“Go, Wooden. That mansion over there.”
That one?
Through the window of the slowly moving carriage, an enormous mansion could be seen. Fernan pointed in that direction.
“Yes. Find traces of corrupted magic there. You can do that, right?”
— Kyu! Kyu!
The thing he did best.
For Wooden, who contained the purest form of mana, detecting corrupted magic was easy.
To him, that kind of magic was like a black dot on a white sheet.
“That’s it. But don’t let anyone discover you. If necessary, turn into stone.”
— Kyu, kyu.
Fun. That’s fun.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying this.”
— Kyu.
Stop talking. It hurts.
“All right, I’ll try not to think too much while we’re connected.”
Go on, enter.
Click. Fernan cracked the carriage window open. Wooden dodged glances and leapt onto the mansion wall.
He was just 3 cm tall—the smallest form he could take.
Tap, he landed softly and slipped into the garden, hiding among loose stones.
— Kyu!
Perfect.
He slowly extended his roots. Soon, he began to sense the presences around him.
— Kyu, kyu.
Inside the mansion! 51 people!
Perhaps because of the mansion’s size, even without the master present, there were quite a few people.
‘More than I expected. Anything unusual?’
— Kyu?
Unusual?
‘Yes, for example, a space where detection doesn’t work properly.’
Corrupted magic, no matter how faint, was so unnatural that, unless artificially hidden, it would always be discovered.
‘If they’ve prepared something in the mansion, it’s definitely a device to conceal magic.’
— Kyu!
Yes! In the basement!
‘Then that’s your target, Wooden. Go there first.’
Wooden nodded slightly.
With the objective defined, it was time to move. He took advantage of a moment when the gardener got distracted by a bird in a tree and dashed forward.
He was just about to leap into the mansion when he suddenly stopped. He curled up and rolled across the ground.
He had bumped into a maid carrying a large load of laundry. He bounced in the opposite direction.
“Ow! A rock?”
Wooden’s perfectly rounded body made it impossible to distinguish him from a common pebble at first glance.
The maid began to hang the clothes in the yard.
Wooden got up again, still a bit shaken by the impact.
— Kyu, kyu.
Fools, humans.
He was proud of his perfect camouflage, but at the same time irritated that these humans couldn’t recognize his grand, glorious self.
It was confusing, but the truth was he had lost ground in his advance.
— Kyu.
Remember. You.
Wooden looked at the maid’s face again and dashed off once more.
This time there were no obstacles. Perhaps that earlier stumble had been a step back to take two steps forward. Even the door was slightly ajar—how fortunate.
At that moment—
“Huh? Who left the door…?”
Another maid was closing the door. The opening narrowed rapidly. Wooden pushed himself to the limit.
— Kyu!
No!
He dove in headfirst, sliding like a plank, slipping through the gap just before the door shut.
— Kyu!
Success!
But the joy was short-lived. Aware of the maid nearby, Wooden curled into a ball again, disguising himself.
Now he was nothing more than a rock.
“What’s this? Who threw a stone here?”
The maid picked him up and tossed him outside.
— Kyu! Kyu!
You too. Remembered.
Wooden managed to reenter the mansion ten minutes later.
____
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