Chapter 7

The Succession War was a human creation.

Thus, it required overseers.

No matter how noble the contest, treasures and trials didn’t just fall from the sky.

In fact, they demanded an even more skilled hand.

There were two overseers and Cornelius Merhes, the mustachioed mage, was one of them.

“Good grief. This is tedious beyond measure,” I heard him mutter.

Before him stood ten crystal panels.

They weren’t complex magical devices.

They merely turned red to signal when a treasure was found.

Beyond that, they had no function.

Well, perhaps their glossy surfaces could serve as mirrors for grooming, if one wanted to call that a function.

“Sitting here, waiting for a signal that might never come—am I a beacon keeper or what?”

Cornelius grumbled.

The mustachioed mage didn’t bother hiding his displeasure.

“For Cornelius, the dean of the Imperial Academy of Magic, to spend a hundred days like this? Hah, absurd!”

He muttered more, staring at his reflection in the polished crystal panel.

What good was trimming his mustache so neatly and handsomely?

There wasn’t a single lady around to admire it.

“I don’t know where the treasures are, what they are, or what Their Highnesses are up to and they call me an overseer? They might as well call me an errand boy!”

“Quite the grumbler, aren’t you, errand boy?” a voice cut in.

“What!” Cornelius exclaimed, startled, and leapt to his feet.

An old man with a white beard gazed at him.

He wore a long robe, his beard reached his waist and he held a wooden staff.

His appearance screamed “mage” so loudly you’d think he wanted someone to shout, “Oh, a wizard!” upon seeing him.

“Shall I petition His Majesty to officially demote you to errand boy?” the old man teased.

“Uh, when did you get here?” Cornelius asked.

“Since you started muttering,” the old man replied.

“…Couldn’t you make some noise to announce yourself?” Cornelius said, sheepishly stroking his mustache.

The white-bearded mage chuckled, brushing his long beard.

“No incidents, I presume? No treasures found yet?” he asked.

“None,” Cornelius confirmed.

“Well, they’re not trials that would be uncovered in just a week,” the old man said.

This mage, who prided himself on looking more wizardly than anyone in the empire, continued nonchalantly.

“Of course not, considering the dean of the Imperial Academy of Magic crafted and hid them with such care.”

“…That would be you, Grand Dean,” Cornelius pointed out.

“Exactly. My craftsmanship is unparalleled,” the old man boasted.

This old man was Hermai Merhes.

The Grand Dean of the Imperial Academy of Magic and Cordis’s chief mage, optimus magus.

The empire’s only six-star mage, a member of the emperor’s closest council, the Eight Sages, and the overseer-in-chief of the fiftieth Succession War!

“It wasn’t easy, though,” Hermai Merhes said, shaking his head.

“You worked hard. Crafting treasures that could rival any artifact on the continent was no small feat.”

Ten trials, ten treasures.

They didn’t just fall from the sky; someone had to create them.

That task fell to Hermai Merhes, Cordis’s chief mage.

“There was little support since we couldn’t risk leaks. If I met anyone during crafting, I had to erase their memories. And the treasures couldn’t be subpar or ordinary…! What a contradiction!” the old man bellowed.

But then he declared, “Yet I, Hermai Merhes, chief mage of the thousand-year empire, turned that contradiction into reality without hesitation!”

Cornelius clapped, his expression unchanged, as if accustomed to his master’s theatrics.

“Truly impressive, Grand Dean Hermai,” he said.

“Your soulless praise is much appreciated, Dean Cornelius!” Hermai replied, stroking his beard.

“Phew. I’ll retire before the next Succession War, no question.”

“That’d be good for me,” Cornelius said, nodding.

“I’ve always coveted the chief mage position.”

“Oh, you rascal! Why do you think the next chief mage spot is yours?” Hermai retorted.

“I’m one of the seven deans of the Imperial Academy of Magic, a four-star mage, and, most importantly, your adopted son and prized disciple. That’s why,” Cornelius replied.

“Getting cheeky, are we?” Hermai chuckled.

“Feeling the strain of overseeing, I take it?” he added.

“What strain? I just stare at these crystal panels,” Cornelius said, pursing his lips.

Even this mustachioed mage was no small figure, but next to his master and adoptive father, Hermai, he paled in comparison.

“Just staring at the panels, waiting for a signal that might come any day within these hundred days. Just staring!” Cornelius complained.

“Well, it can’t be helped,” Hermai said, chuckling like a mischievous child.

“The treasures, their locations, and their trials are top secret. Even you can’t be told, Cornelius.”

“……”

Cornelius looked clearly displeased.

Even if only in name, he was an overseer of the Succession War.

Yet they kept everything—treasures, trials—tightly under wraps.

“You seem miffed, but there’s no helping it. It’s His Majesty’s decree,” Hermai said.

“I’m miffed but pretending not to be,” Cornelius replied.

“Then put on a less miffed face,” Hermai teased, laughing again like the quintessential wizard.

“I suppose I’ll get to my tasks,” he said.

With a wave of his hand, his disciple stepped aside.

This was the heart of the imperial barrier, the center of the capital’s arena.

Hermai Merhes curled his hand and brought it to his eye.

The barrier spanning Lutilium recognized its creator and granted the appropriate authority.

“Now, barrier, show me. What are Their Highnesses up to?” Hermai murmured.

The barrier whispered back in response.

It protected the imperial capital while observing and recording everything within.

“Let’s start with the three most likely candidates…” Hermai said.

The movements of the princes, princesses, and their retainers unfolded before Hermai’s eyes.

It was only vague dots and lines moving about.

Even as the empire’s chief mage and the barrier’s creator, he couldn’t see more than this.

But Hermai had no voyeuristic tendencies and these faint traces were enough to fulfill his duties.

“Hmm, hmm. I get the gist. Her Highness Leniar and His Highness Ferbias are close, while His Highness Secundus might take a bit longer,” he noted.

A quill pen moved on its own, transcribing his words for a report to the Great Emperor.

“The others aren’t moving much. Wise of them,” Hermai murmured.

His muttering continued. ‘His Highness Zionis is only at the library… The library? Well, that’s fine.’ The muttering stopped, and a period was placed on the report.

“Today’s report is done quickly! Things will get busy once a treasure is found,” Hermai said.

“Are you leaving?” Cornelius asked.

“I must. Keep up the good work,” Hermai replied, whistling as he left.

Delivering this report to the Great Emperor would conclude his day.

What to do next?

Perhaps visit an old friend for a drink.

As he exited, receiving his disciple’s farewell, Hermai paused.

“Oh, Cornelius, I forgot to mention,” he said, his face devoid of humor.

“This is the heart of the imperial barrier. A mage of your caliber, a dean of the Imperial Academy of Magic, could probably reverse-track the treasures’ locations.”

“…What are you getting at?” Cornelius asked warily.

“You know full well that such an act would warrant immediate execution,” Hermai said sternly.

“……”

Cornelius fell silent.

It was rare for his master to wear such a grave expression, and his words carried heavy weight.

The old mage’s eyebrows arched with suppressed anger.

“You wouldn’t remember, so I’ll say it again,” Hermai continued.

“I’ll let it slide with memory erasure twice. But even for my adopted son and prized disciple, the third time means your head.”

“……”

“How many times do you think I’ve said this?” Hermai pressed.

In the face of his disciple’s silence, Hermai issued a warning.

“Think carefully before you act, as befits the prized disciple of I, Hermai Merhes!”

* * *

“Still no word from Dean Cornelius, Amethus?” Ferbias asked.

“…He contacted me earlier, but he wishes to avoid further interaction,” Amethus replied.

“Of course, no information on the treasures’ locations?” Ferbias pressed.

“None,” Amethus confirmed.

“Hah! After all the research funds we funneled his way,” Ferbias scoffed, waving his hand.

“Well, fine. I didn’t expect that guy to slip past Hermai’s watch.”

Hermai Merhes, a monster of a man rivaling the Great Emperor Continua.

From the moment Ferbias heard he was overseeing the Succession War, he knew petty cheating wouldn’t work.

Still, he’d tried to sway Cornelius, just in case.

“In the end, it’s about getting ahead, even by one treasure. Has any of my dear siblings taken the lead?” Ferbias asked.

“They’re all struggling. Though, Her Highness the First Princess seems to have a lead,”

Amethus reported.

“Hmm. Leniar, as expected?” Ferbias said, stroking his chin.

The sensation of his newly grown beard felt unfamiliar.

Among his eight siblings, only two were true rivals in his eyes: the First Princess, Leniar, and the Second Prince, Secundus.

Though Secundus was a bit less of a threat, so really, it was just Leniar.

“Given that many of Her Highness’s forces are converging on one spot, it’s likely certain,” Amethus added.

“Where are they gathering?” Ferbias asked.

“The ancient tomb site beneath the slums,” Amethus answered.

“Hard to swoop in and snatch that one,” Ferbias mused.

Was she methodically securing what lay within her sphere of influence?

Very like Leniar.

Ferbias gave a small laugh.

Each prince and princess wielded influence over different parts of the capital, Lutilium.

Leniar, who’d long devoted herself to aiding the poor, had strong support among the lower classes.

Ferbias hadn’t neglected slum relief either, but compared to Leniar’s overwhelming backing, his efforts were paltry.

As for Secundus… he’d be lucky not to be pelted with filth.

“And the other five? Anything notable?” Ferbias asked.

“They rarely leave their residences,” Amethus replied.

“They know standing out does no good,” Ferbias said.

“However…” Amethus hesitated.

“…His Highness the Fifth Prince has been repeatedly visiting a certain place daily,” he continued.

“The Fifth Prince? Zionis again?” Ferbias said, his eyebrows shooting up.

He’d found his younger half-sibling rather endearing, but if Zionis had caught a lead on a treasure, that changed things.

He’d need to recruit him as an ally—or, failing that, perhaps eliminate him.

“Where’s he going every day?” Ferbias asked.

“The imperial grand library,” Amethus answered.

“…The library? What’s he doing there?” Ferbias pressed.

“The library’s security is tight, so our spies couldn’t follow, but he takes books in and comes out with different ones,” Amethus explained.

Ferbias scratched his chin, feeling the rough texture of his new beard.

“So, he takes books into the library and comes out with others?” Ferbias repeated.

“Yes, Your Highness,” Amethus confirmed.

“…Don’t we call that returning and borrowing? That’s what libraries are for,” Ferbias said, staring at his confidant.

Amethus’s jade-green eyes were deadly serious. He clearly wasn’t joking.

“Amethus, I’m asking because I don’t get it—what’s the issue with Zionis?” Ferbias asked.

“……”

Amethus couldn’t answer immediately.

Ferbias found his answer in that silence.

“What, that strange unease again?” he said.

“…Yes,” Amethus admitted.

“Hah!” Ferbias snorted, stroking his beard.

“Look, Amethus! Do you know how much it cost to pull you from the Security Bureau? I paid a fortune for your skills and that sharp intuition of yours.”

“…I’m aware,” Amethus said.

“You’ve met expectations so far. Your skills, your instincts—they’re top-notch! But I don’t know why they keep misfiring with Zionis,” Ferbias said.

“……”

Amethus fell silent, fully agreeing with Ferbias.

Logically, there was nothing odd about Zionis.

An eleven-year-old kid living quietly might naturally visit the library daily.

Yet his blasted intuition kept screaming to beware of Zionis!

“We’ve got plenty of other problems to focus on. So stop worrying about Zionis,” Ferbias ordered.

“…Understood,” Amethus replied.

“He’s just a kid. This is the second time I’m saying this. I hate repeating myself a third time. You know that, right?” Ferbias said.

“Yes, Your Highness,” Amethus replied, bowing respectfully.

Ferbias looked at his confidant’s bowed head, scratching his beard.

This damn beard—he couldn’t get used to it. It irritated him slightly.

“Reduce the spies on Zionis. Leave just one. That’ll help you worry less,” Ferbias instructed.

* * *

I stretched, feeling the lingering impact of devouring a twelve-volume epic.

‘Fifteen days since the Succession War was proclaimed. I’ve read to my heart’s content,’ I thought.

I glanced at the clock.

The sun had just set.

‘Still, eating well and resting for two weeks has helped me gather some mana. I can probably use my first Ars decently,’ I mused.

I took a deep breath, feeling the faint but certain power swirling within me.

‘And most importantly… the loosened surveillance,’ I noted, glancing out the window.

The usual presences I’d sensed had dwindled.

‘All that blatant idling paid off. Their guard’s down. It’s finally time to move,’ I decided.

I stood, tucking the book I’d just finished under my arm.

Pies, folding laundry, didn’t even ask where I was going.

He assumed I was headed to the library, as usual.

I, Shion Pollinglight, smiled.

Things were going exactly as I’d planned.

‘Time to get my hands on it…’ I thought.

A treasure unlike the other nine.

One imbued with a different history and power.

‘The oldest and most powerful treasure of the library.’

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