“.... What?”

  Both could see Tristan’s eyebrow twitching. Mage Stialia, his close advisor, just informed him what happened to Mage Nuala.

  “Describe how it happened exactly,” he demanded. They were in the conference room which was a large square room that was void of any windows and had stony walls. The floor was covered with red velvet carpet and there was a large wooden round table with several rolled maps scattered around on top. Illuminated by several wall torches, the room was decently lit.

  Ansel and Stialia glanced at each other with the former nodding. He knew more than he did, thus he was probably a better choice for him to tell. Thus, Ansel explained what had transpired. Tristan listened to him with an intense expression. At the end, he looked at Mage Stialia.

  “What Asvete said, is it true? Is it true that Nuala was knocked down just like that?”

  “I saw with my own eyes, Count. It was a horrifying scene to have witnessed.”

  “How is she?”

  “Unknown. She was taken to an infirmary.”

  “Can she even get back to work in a day or two?”

  Asvete and Stialia glanced at each other with, again, the former answering.

  “I highly doubt she can simply get up and get back to work. I was taught that being drained of mana takes a very heavy toll on the body as well as the mind.”

  Besides Stialia and Tristan, there was one more figure actually. He was a tall slender man with gray hair and short beard. He was the tallest person Ansel had ever seen thus far. His reaction to this was rather stoic, making him to believe that he may have seen a voidkin absorbing mana directly from a mage before.

  So, it looks like the count had three mages…

  It was still a small number compared to the number of mages that the Grimhill had. But it was clear that the count had been planning this for many years.

  “Verma, your opinion?”

  It must have been the tall slander mage’s name.

  “If what I’ve heard over the years is correct, Nuala will never be the same.”

  Ansel’s heart sank upon hearing that. She was an ally and he crippled her. It was not a matter of simple apology. He didn’t know the extent of the damage done to her, but she was never going to be the same whatever the case. But he wasn’t going to cower at the moment. He had to remain strong. Being apologetic here would only lead to him being used.

  “We will just act accordingly,” he responded nonchalantly. “I will make up for her spot. How many mages does the Grimhill have?”

  The three men’s attention was on him.

  “The Grimhills themselves have five. Their four allied houses have one each, so a total of nine,” Stialia replied.

  “As for us, we have … three,” Verma added. “And the Waines have one, so a total of four.”

  They had more than twice the number.

  “Won’t the royals join as well?”

  It was a fair question because they were talking as if the royals wouldn’t join.

  Stialia replied, “The royals will be bystanders at the moment. For your information, they have three mages.”

  The Grimhill has more than the royals? That doesn’t sound … very balanced, isn’t it? he thought but kept the thoughts to himself for now.

  “They are not joining? Why is that?”

  “On the surface, they want this conflict to be the Grimhill versus the Rassier,” Verma explained.

  “Who are … they?” Ansel asked cautiously and slowly. It was this moment Tristan and Stialia exchanged a glance with the former chuckling.

  “Asvete, you got a strange feeling now, don’t you?” he asked.

  “Yes, Count. Didn’t you challenge the royals? Why are the Grimhill butting in and acting as if they are shielding the royals?”

  If the royals were in power, they’d handle this on their own. The very fact that the Grimhill was in charge seemed odd even if the king was on his death bed.

  “You are good, Asvete. To see through the veil already…, I guess you really did advise the baron,” Stialia said.

  “The royals are puppets,” Tristan said with a crooked grin and a visible shrug. “The current king became the king only due to their assistance, And rightfully so, the Grimhill has a lash on the king. It is time to liberate the kingdom.”

  “You mean to say that you wish to support the royals?”

  Tristan sneered. “I have no interest in weaklings. This is a crooked country. My aim is to create a new one.”

  “We don’t even need to defeat the Grimhill,” Verma added. “We can already declare a new kingdom with the lands we have.”

  Information overload was whacking his brain. At the moment, Count Rassier held about one fourth of the country. If he declared independence, it’d be a small nation, even smaller than Novar. Would there be any point in that?

  “You what?”

  “Ramor is willing to give us a hand,” Verma added again.

  Ramor…? He racked his brain to recall the world map. It was an island nation right east of the kingdom.

  “Why would they?”

  “They are sick of being called an island tribe nation,” Stialia explained. “And, although it was generations ago, they did take a princess from the royal family. They feel they deserve better.”

  “Just a piece of land to escape being an island nation,” Verma added, yet again.

  Ansel didn’t like what he was hearing. They were essentially selling out their country to get what they wanted.

  Tristan grinned. “Fladal is also on their way. In my head, the Grimhill has little chance.”

  Whatever the count cooked, he really cooked it even if it meant selling out his own nation. He was really prepared and beyond. The reason he never liked the count…, it became clearer. The man was willing to cross the line to get what he wanted. Ansel preferred a more conventional method. More importantly, he was no longer sure whether he should go to the kingdom of Novar, but that was for another time.

  Placing his hand on his forehead, he walked in a small circle, trying to take in all the sudden information he was given. His mentor made him biased that the Grimhill was undefeatable. Yet, from what they told him, the Grimhill was on the verge of defeat even before the battle began.

  I have to be impartial. I have to be rational. Think this from all sides…

  Repeating the phrase in his head, he eventually stopped walking in a circle. He picked a side. For the time being, he had to work with them.

  “What do you want me to do?” he asked, to which Tristan beamed a bright smile.

  “Attaboy,” Tristan said with a grin. “Stall them for my allies to land. That is all I ask.”

  “This was going to be Nuala’s job, but alas…,” Verma spoke sadly.

  “Are you granting me an army then?”

  “I am willing but under my own terms,” Tristan declared. “I cannot let you go alone as the sole authority. Stialia here will be leading an army of his own along with a general. So will you. You will go along with a general. However, unlike Stialia, I will grant you more authority.”

  Honestly, he didn’t want to work with anyone. It was rather tiresome to explain tactics whenever it was required. But this was the price to pay at the moment. He was still unknown and recognized by no one.

  “Very well,” he conceded.

  “Good, the armies will depart in two days. You will be free until then.”

  Ansel was let go, but the meeting still continued on. There was probably a lot to discuss and adjust with Nuala’s forced absence. There was a pair of the guards right outside,waiting for him. The urine and feces were cleaned out as well.

  “Master Asvete, allow us to guide you back.”

  He gave them a weak nod. On their way back, he grew an urge to ask about Nuala.

  “We don’t know honestly,” one of the guards answered. “We took her to the infirmary and we were told to leave at once.”

  “I see.”

  He was leaving in two days, and there was a decent chance of him never coming back here. So far, his plan to leave for Novar was still intact. He was never going to swear an oath of allegiance to the count. His methods were too far apart from his. Strictly speaking, he was working for the count as Gavin’s page, meaning he was not the count’s direct vassal. Leaving him behind wouldn’t cause much backlash in other words.

  Once escorted back to his room, he found the dinner plate gone. The page took it probably. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he let out a long, exhausted, sigh. It felt like an ordeal after an ordeal ever since leaving Ateria. While he didn’t regret his decision to leave, he had to question his choice of working with the count. It was strictly not rebellion but it was very much rebellion in the core sense. He decided not to think too hard about it because there was no escaping the situation. Laying down on the bed, he changed the subject in his head to the immense mana he had accidentally acquired. The amount of mana was nothing compared to before where Gadric cast spells on him. To make a better comparison, until he absorbed Nuala’s mana, what he had was a bucket of water. With her mana absorbed, he had a bathtub worth of water. With this much mana, he could safely cast the teleportation spell with plenty of spare.

  “I will need to visit her tomorrow morning,” he said to himself while closing his eyes slowly. How would she react, he wondered. Would she get angry? That was pretty much given, he thought. How she would vent her anger was the big question. Ladies would often use tears as their weapon of choice.

  “I wonder…”

  “FUCK YOU!”

  “M’lady, please stop!”

  A maid grabbed Nuala’s waist, but she was dragging her to approach Ansel who visited her in the next morning to check up on her and perhaps apologize.

  “Milady, please! Please, watch your tongue and behavior! Please act like a princess for the tri-moon’s sake!” she cried.

  A princess?

  It turned out that she was a princess from Fladal. She joined Count Rassier as a mage in order to support their diplomatic relationship. He was absolutely certain that there was more to this.

  “How could I remain calm?! My mana pool is half of what it was! That kid raped me!”

  “PRINCESS! PLEASE WATCH YOUR MOUTH!!!” The maid was crying, really crying out of a desperate attempt to control her master.

  He felt that her damaged mana pool was the least of her concerns because she peed and pooped back there… Her dignity as a lady was in tatters.

  “You will recover in due time,” he said nonchalantly, which made her even angrier.

  “SHUT YOUR TRAPS!”

  The maid, having had enough, covered her mouth from behind and dragged her backwards forcefully.

  “M, Master Asvete. As you can see, the lady is in very severe shock … She isn’t really herself right now.”

  He disagreed, but it was probably better to play along for the maid’s shake because she had tears in her eyes. She really looked like bursting into tears.

  “I see. My apologies for what had transpired. I know empty words don’t mean much, alas there isn’t much else I can do.”

  “Mmmph! MMMMM!” The princess disagreed clearly, but he chose to ignore her.

  “Excuse me now.”

  She was flailing arms widely in protest with muffled screams. Regardless, he bowed and left the room.

  “Well, she seems very active. That’s a good sign,” he said to himself with a sigh. She had some personality in her for sure. He thought that the count had some rough mouth. Hers was worse. At least, she was being very open about being angry, which made him feel better. If she was too calm and accepting about it, it would have made him feel worse overall.

  “They might make a good couple…” Then he realized that she might be here for that exact purpose. Fladal, for whatever their reasons, may have sent a princess to forage a blood tie.

  “This goes deeper than I think, doesn’t it?”

  The fact that two island nations were willing to assist Count Rassier meant that there must have been more than what he knew. The Kingdom of Steterra may not have been so clean after all.

  “At the end of the day, the strong overtakes the weak,” he whispered. That was the rule of the world no matter how peaceful. A war wasn’t always about armies clashing. The bottom line was that the strong conquered the weak.

  “Well, I’ve got some spare time. I should explore the city. I won’t have this kind of opportunity for a while.”

  Having decided to explore the city, he tried to leave the manor but was denied.

  “I am sorry, sir. The count’s order is that we seal the manor,” said one of the guards at the main gate. It was an understandable decision to shut down the manor. But he wasn’t going to spend two days locked up. An opportunity to experience a city didn’t come frequently.

  “I see. My apologies.” Having said so, he walked away from the main gate. The Rassier manor was at least twice larger than the Durrell manor. In fact, it wasn’t exactly a manor. It was more like a palace.

  “Shouldn’t be hard to find a rat hole in a place like this,” he remarked. It took over a minute to walk across the front garden from the main gate to the main entrance. The rear garden was even larger. The boundary of the manor was done with tall walls. Fortunately, some parts of the walls were shadowed by even taller trees which provided shade. Casting the shadow spell, it was easy for him to scale a shaded wall and make it outside. He had plenty of mana to spare as well. Cancelling the spell as soon as he was outside, he casually walked away. He actually needed to go outside to visit a blacksmith. The reason being was that he left his spear back in Ateria, which was intentional. The spear he had was a cheap one he picked up while working under Gavin. He modified the pole to suit his needs, but the quality of the spearhead was highly questionable. It was made of iron but was done poorly. He did have the alicorn, but it was too heavy for him at the moment. Besides ,wielding an alicorn spear would make him stand out too much. The last thing he wanted was drawing attention to himself.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “A steel spear?” A rugged and shirtless man in front of a sizzling hot furnace repeated Ansel’s order.

  “How much would it cost?”

  “How soon would you need it?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Yes, a spear is easier to hammer compared to a sword, but a steel spear is a bit different since its pole will be made of steel as well. It’s pretty labor intensive overall.”

  “How long will it take?”

  “Do you even have money for it?”

  A valid question, he thought albeit rude.

  “I have a few silver coins.”

  He didn’t although he could certainly ask for some financial assistance from the count. Nevertheless, the man’s eyes lit up.

  “Money’s no problem then. As for how long, a month? Two thirds of that if rushed, but that will cost more.”

  Since he asked for a month, asking him to finish it in two days wasn’t even worth asking. He was a bit disappointed.

  “Do you have any pre-made ones?”

  “I do, but none of them is steel.”

  “May I ask why?”

  The blacksmith, who looked to be in his 40s, looked up and down on him.

  “Because nobles never choose a spear. They always choose swords. Steel weapons are considered high grade and commoners generally cannot afford them. Spears are the weapons of common folks. Obviously, no one makes them in steel. Some even settle for bronze.”

  Folding his arms, Ansel sighed. “Show me what you have please.”

  “Are you in a rush?”

  “Yes, I have to leave in two days.”

  The blacksmith narrowed his eyes as if he caught on something.

  “Are you going to war?”

  “Yes.”

  “You? A child?”

  “I have my circumstances.”

  He had a firm look on his face although a few veins popped on his aged forehead. There was a weapon rack on a wall of the shop where several weapons were hung. He walked toward it and grabbed a spearhead. It didn’t have its pole yet probably because it wouldn’t be able to be hung with a long pole.

  “This is an iron spearhead, This is one of my finer works. I will give you this.”

  “How much is it going to cost?”

  “Just take it. Have your army blacksmith attach it to a pole.”

  “Sir?”

  Sighing with exasperation, he said, “I’ve seen children around me go to wars. I’ve seen none of them come back. Hopefully, this will improve your odds of survival.”

  He must have thought that Ansel was going to participate in the upcoming war as a foot soldier. It was an understandable thought since common foot soldiers did use spears since they were cheap and easy to train in. However, any soldiers worth their salts would use swords.

  “Sir, I can pay. I did say that I have a few silvers.”

  He looked up and down on him with a chuckle.

  “True, you don’t look like a commoner but you don’t look like a noble, either.”

  He wasn’t completely wrong. Ansel was neither a commoner nor a noble. He was certainly in a weird spot at the moment.

  “Don’t take me wrong. I don’t think you are lying but I have a feeling that it’s money you don’t have. Just an old man’s intuition, that’s all.”

  The man was surprisingly sharp.

  “You can pay me later after you come back.” He looked down with a gloomy expression.

  He wasn’t going to come back.

  “Tell me how much it costs. I don’t wish to leave unfinished business behind.”

  “Fine, fine, three iron coins will suffice. Iron spearheads are as common as they could get anyway.”

  It was pretty much all of his savings, but he did have enough. The man took the coins reluctantly and shooed him away.

  “Survive, lad,” were his parting words.

  With the iron spearhead, he was almost out of money. He did have one more thing to purchase but was no longer sure whether he had enough money. Regardless, he searched for an alchemy store. Alchemists were those who practiced what was often dubbed as witchcraft by commoners because what they did wasn’t quite understandable. One could say the same to magicians, but at least their magic was flashy and impressive. What alchemists did was often underappreciated due to their secrecy of keeping their fundamentals under heavy wraps. This was an understandable act because alchemists were essentially chemists. Unlike mages that required innate talents to wield mana, anyone could become chemists if he possessed the knowledge. Therefore, to control competitions, alchemists rarely taught anyone their knowledge. They would take in pupils or make their children inherit their business. The latter practice was far more common.

  “What are you looking for, lad?” An old man greeted him as soon as he opened a wooden door to a shop. It looked more like a book shop with potions instead of books on shelves. But most potions looked empty with exception of those behind the shop keeper.

  “A healing potion, I am looking for.”

  “Is someone hurt?”

  The old man was popping smoke via a pipe very leisurely.

  “No, but very likely going to get hurt.”

  “Your dad?”

  “No, it’s for me.”

  The man’s expression didn’t change although the frequency of smoke coming out of his pipe seized for a moment.

  “You joined the army?”

  “Yes, how much do they cost?”

  “A child joining the army? What is the world coming to?” he grumbled and put down his pipe. “Healing potions have many grades. You look well dressed, so I assume you aren’t poor. But they ain’t cheap, either.”

  All Ansel had was an iron coin and a few copper coins.

  “What could I get for an iron coin?”

  “Hmm…”

  Standing up, he approached the shelves behind him. Two thirds of potions had red liquid in it. A few had blue liquids and some had yellow liquid. He picked a potion with semi-transparent red liquid in it. Turning around, he placed the potion on the counter in front of him.

  “This is a low-grade healing potion. I can let it go for a single iron coin. I charge more for this, but it looks like you might really need it.”

  It didn't look like the man was going to pull a trick from his candid expression. Ansel pulled out an iron coin from his coin pouch from his belt and placed it on the counter. The man slid the potion toward him gently after seeing the coin.

  “It won’t heal a fetal wound,” he said.

  “Is it because it’s low grade?”

  “Yes, it’s been diluted too much. A little tip for you. Never drink it all at once. Drink half and see whether that’s enough. It’s one way to save some money.”

  The potion bottle was 200ml, meaning it was quite easy to consume all at once.

  “Thanks, mister. What is it made of anyway?”

  He didn’t expect an answer to that.

  “A family secret, lad.”

  Since healing spells wouldn’t work on him, he needed a way to heal himself in dire situations. Healers on armies were almost always light magic users. He heard that some healers were traditional doctors, but they were apparently quite rare. With how easy it is for light magic users to heal, it was understandable why there were so few actual doctors. He wasn’t sure healing potions would work on him, either, but it looked like they would work since whatever was in the bottle didn’t seem to be based on magic, thus mana.

  “Let’s hope that I won’t have to find out whether this works the hard way…”

  Slotting the potion to his belt next to his mana potion, it was time for some window shopping before heading back. He no longer had any money to purchase anything else other than some random junk food from the streets, but it was enough to hang around and spend the rest of day idling and watching the common folks. He snuck back into the manor by evening to find his dinner plate sitting pretty on a desk in his room. The menu was exactly the same as before, a freshly baked loaves of bread and a bowl of meaty stew.

  “I shouldn’t get used to this… but I will enjoy it while available.”

  He especially liked the meat pieces in the stew. Protein was hard to come by after all. With his belly full, he spent an eventless night. He planned to spend his second day at the library within the manor since books were also hard to come by. In fact, it would be his first time ever handling a real book. He needed to ask the page to guide him to the library which was fairly large and extensive.

  “Is there anything you are looking for?” A librarian asked. It was a young woman in her 20s, wearing a decently decorated robe. Her dark hair was combed neatly straight down.

  “I am looking for any books related to healing and alchemy. Do you have any?”

  “Nothing on alchemy. It's a closely guarded secret. But we do have some books regarding human anatomy.”

  Beggars can’t be choosers.

  “I suppose that will do.”

  “Will you be reading here or take them to your quarters?”

  There were two large rectangle tables in the library. Tens of bookshelves were arranged around the two tables with one side having a counter where the librarian was seated.

  “I will read them here.”

  His room wasn’t that luxurious to spend time in anyway.

  “I see. Hold on a moment please while I gather the books. She pulled out a paper, probably a list of which books were stored where and diligently walked around to gather three books. One of them was especially thick, at least twice thicker than the other two. Meanwhile, Ansel took a seat and waited patiently. The wooden table was varnished professionally and was chilly to touch.

  “Here you go. I will bring some snacks and a cup of tea.”

  He almost refused it by reflex. There was no reason to refuse free food. He wouldn’t be able to eat properly out on the battlefields anyway.

  “Thank you.”

  He inspected each book. The first book had a title of “Human anatomy 101”. The second book had a title of “The ways of a healer”. This was the thick book. Finally, the third book was titled “Wild herbs”. He opened the Human anatomy 101 book first since it seemed logical to learn it first before applying medical knowledge. He wasn’t going to finish all three books in a single day if he didn’t rush, thus he skimmed as fast as he could, which was easier said than done since he wasn’t fully adept at reading yet. Thankfully, being a medical book, it did have some hand drawn pictures.

  “Here you go, sir.”

  The librarian placed a plate down which had a small dish full of cookies and a cup of green tea.

  “Thank you.”

  At one point, he came across drawings of a naked man and woman. This was when he found out that women had nothing down there. A woman had neither a penis nor testicles.

  Then what do they have down there?

  He did recall Selena telling him about “bleeding” monthly. Reading further, he found out women had a hole instead where a penis would enter.

  Interesting… I would like to see what the hole looks like, but that would be downright rude or even maybe a crime.

  He skimmed through faster, wanting to finish the book and get it over with as soon as possible because he didn’t feel he would get much from it. He learned that the regularly beating thing in his left chest was called a heart, which was a vital organ. He also learned about lungs and stomach. But what he could learn from the book was only basic at the best. Biting on the cookies occasionally and taking sips, he moved onto the second book after finishing the first book in about two hours.

  The ways of a healer… This one ought to be beneficial.

  The content of the book was mostly about wound treatment. How to stop bleeding, what to do and what not to do when a person was down was written. The book had some duplicated knowledge about human anatomy as well. He felt that he should have skipped the first book entirely.

  I wonder if there are books about monster anatomy…?

  He wondered. Reading and learning from the ways of a healer made him realize that knowing how to heal was also a good way to learn how to kill more efficiently. Standing up from his chair, he asked the librarian about a book of monster anatomy.

  “I don’t think so.” She was looking at the paper that listed every book the library had. “No, there is none.”

  The frequency with which humans and monsters clashed was often. In spite of that, there was painfully little information about them.

  “Any other books about monster languages?”

  She looked bemused. “Monster languages…? Do they even have languages?”

  Goblins did at least. Orcs may have a language as well. Theirs weren’t as sophisticated as human language, but they did have means to communicate verbally with vocabulary. He was starting to have more desire to study monsters. In his mind, it could be even possible to co-exist with some select monster races.

  “So, there is none then?”

  “No, there is no such a book.”

  “I see. Thank you.”

  He did bring a small note that details the vocabulary he learned from his first encounter with a deep goblin. It’s too early to tell, but he realized that he may be the first one to step into an unknown field: monster studies. After spending hours in the ways of a healer, he knew he wouldn’t be able to finish it because the sky was starting to change its color. In a rush, he opened the third book “Wild herbs” and skimmed through as fast as he humanly could. Borrowing the books wasn’t an option. Purchasing them wasn’t even on the table since he was poor. With so much left to read, he had to leave the books behind.

  “You couldn’t finish them,” the librarian noted as he was preparing to leave.

  “Yes, but I am out of time.”

  Although wasn’t explicitly told, she knew that Ansel was a part of the army that was departing soon.

  “Knowledge always finds its way to those who desire,” she told him in a comforting tone.

  After having dinner which was the same as before, he was preparing to sleep when he heard knocking. It was Nuala’s maid.

  “I apologize for the unannounced visit at this late hour.”

  “That’s fine. What can I do for you?”

  “I am here to apologize for my lady’s behavior.”

  “No need. She has every right to be angry at me.”

  “Still, her reaction was too much.”

  “You apologizing to me means nothing anyway. She has to apologize. Don’t you agree? And I am sure that you are aware of that, so what is your real purpose for visiting me?”

  The maid hesitated for a bit. It was pretty clear that her real reason for visiting him was indeed not about an apology. It was just an excuse.

  “Fladal has been looking for a voidkin,” she eventually continued.

  “May I ask why?”

  “The princess…” She had both of her hands in front but was playing with fingers nervously. “She has a younger brother who is suffering from what healers describe as mana poisoning.”

  “What a blessed family. Fladal royal family has two mages as family members?”

  “The royal family has always had a connection with mana. It’s how they have battled the empire without needing to spend a lot to hire mages.”

  “What is mana poisoning anyway?”

  “It is a condition where a person has too much mana than what he is capable of harnessing. It causes severe fever and nausea.”

  “So, you want me to absorb his mana? Wouldn’t that damage his mana pool? Why don’t you just let him cast magic to control the pool?”

  “It’s easier said than done. His condition is rather severe, and he has to cast big spells which are destructive to the environment. And even being a bit late to casting spells causes him to collapse, missing his chance to expel excessive mana.”

  He gave it a thought. In such a condition like his, perhaps damaging the mana pool, thus reducing the overall capacity, may indeed help. But there were two factors to consider. One was a person’s innate mana capacity. The other was his mana regeneration speed. If mana poisoning was caused by the latter, then damaging her mana pool wouldn’t only make his situation worse. He explained his thoughts to the maid.

  “You are quite thoughtful and knowledgeable even though you’ve just learned about mana poisoning,” she remarked. “What you said is true. Our healers determined that the former is the issue. His mana pool is too large for his body to endure. He has been suffering for many years, and this illness has caused his physical growth to stall.”

  He had no reason not to help. He’d be paid handsomely and he needed the money.

  “I see no reason not to help, but the current situation means I won’t be able to oblige for a while.”

  “Yes…, that’s the thing. She is right now in a critical condition. He needs a voidkin as soon as possible.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Are you asking me to leave for Fladal right now?”

  “No, no, I wouldn’t dare, but waiting until the end of the civil war might not be an option.”

  He felt that she was lying. She wanted him to leave right now if the situation permitted. Perhaps, he could get some information out of her since she would need to earn his favor. She was clearly no ordinary maid.

  “What is the deal with Fladal and the count? Sending a princess to him seemed a bold move.”

  She showed hesitation to his question but eventually replied.

  “We believe that the Kingdom of Novar may fall this time with a civil war plaguing the Kingdom of Steterra. They became more and more weakened every time the empire invaded. Our informants claim that they are on the verge of collapse both economically and militarily.”

  I see.

  Everything clicked in his head. The count, Fladal and Ramor decided to form a grand alliance to fight the empire. The Kingdom of Novar served its purpose, fending off the empire for many years. But the kingdom was falling apart as a result. A different method was deemed required, thus they came up with a new plan. Meanwhile, the Kingdom of Steterra must have insisted on upholding the status quo. Of course, the count may have his own motives as well. He certainly wouldn’t say no to becoming a ruler of his own kingdom regardless. In other words, a complex web of power plays were involved in this. Each had their own agenda. No one seemed to be telling the full truth. It was down to him to believe which stories were truer and piece together.

  “Say no more, I get it.”

  “You do?” She seemed surprised. Perhaps, she didn’t expect him to agree so quickly.

  “Yes, I will help the prince.”

  “Crown prince,” she added.

  He paused for a second. Saving the crown prince would benefit him greatly indeed.

  “Either way, I will help him. But, for now, I have a business here. We should discuss it later.”

  “The lady will be tagging along, so yes, there will be more chances for conversations.”

  There were so many variables that it was giving him a mild headache. At the same time, it looked like he was going to have plenty of opportunities. Going to Novar was no longer his only option now. When the maid was turning around and leaving, he stopped her to ask one last question.

  “Why does the princess have such a foul mouth?”

  He took no offense in her swearing since she had the right. But he did feel weird that a princess would speak like that.

  “Ehm…” She scratched the side of her head with an index finger slowly. “Truthfully, she is a princess in name only. She wasn’t raised as one.”

  “How come?”

  “The king and queen opted to raise her freely since the succession was secure.”

  “Still, surely she’d get married? Should she have been educated?”

  “A marriage is optional, she was told. She is free to choose whoever she likes.”

  “Quite bold of them…” But he liked it and became curious about the royals of Fladal. “I thank you for your answer. Let us talk later when there are less eyes and ears.”

  Nodding, the maid left his room, closing the door as silently as possible.

  “... I need powers,” he whispered. “Political powers.”

  He needed renown. Once he was famous enough, political powers would follow.

  “I am sorry, mentor, but I must destroy the Grimhill utterly.”