After the sparring, the four of them entered Albrecht’s dining hall. Unlike the intimate, familial room where he usually dined with the girls and Halwen, this chamber was vast. Marble statues crowded every corner; expensive though the stone was, their sheer number dulled its elegance instead of enhancing it. The windows were gilded in real gold, while the panes stood clear, letting sunlight stream through unbroken—like grace descending from heaven.

  Vierna sat in the middle of the table with Lina opposite her. Across from them, Albrecht and Halwen shared one side, while the Arkmarschall occupied the central seat.

  “Any updates on the Kagemori documents?” Leopold’s voice cut through the awkward silence.

  “There haven’t been, my Arkmarschall.. The Tsukiyama Grand Archive is guarded constantly—our spy can’t risk it,” Halwen replied.

  Leopold gave a slow nod. He watched as Vierna turned the gun from one hand to the other.

  “And your training with it?”

  “I… I try talking to her, Arkmarschall. But Moony just won’t answer.” She placed the gun on the table and clasped her hands together, knuckles white, as if afraid her silence would be mistaken for laziness.

  “Moony?”

  “Ah—yes. I gave her a name, so it’s easier to call her. She likes it… I think.”

  It had been two weeks since her potential was first discovered. In the first week, she spent trying to break into her subconscious. Hours of meditation earned her only fleeting glimpses. The second week, she finally managed to land inside—only to be rejected again and again. Moony pushed her out every time, never explaining why. From the outside, Vierna tried talking. Moony would respond, but always sharply, snapping at her as if every word were a nuisance. She was the one who had told Vierna to visit more often—yet now she seemed to enjoy the thrill of being pursued.

  Why am I stuck with such a troublesome spirit? Vierna grumbled inwardly.

  Her head throbbed in reply. Moony had clearly taken offense.

  “Continue your efforts,” Leopold said. “Build that relationship. In time, she may choose to cooperate.”

  Vierna’s chest eased. At least the Arkmarschall hadn’t scolded her for what felt like clumsy attempts.

  “Yes, Arkmarschall. I will. Thank you.”

  The Arkmarschall turned to Lina. “Lina, your magic back then relied too much on mana. You have both mana and Grace within you. Why didn’t you use more Grace?”

  Lina’s eyes trembled as if searching for words. “I… tried, Arkmarschall. But every time I did, the spell fell apart.”

  “Then fix it,” the Arkmarschall said flatly. “Next time I see you, I want your spells balanced between Grace and mana. Halwen, give her another tome on Grace, and find a suitable candidate to train her in its use.”

  “Understood, Arkmarschall,” Halwen replied.

  Vierna glanced at Lina. Her face was a storm of emotions — shame, frustration, and the faint trace of fear she couldn’t quite hide.

  Leopold turned to Albrecht. “There has been some development in Schwarzhang Mountain. Your presence is needed there.”

  “May I have the specifics, Herr Leopold?” Albrecht asked. His blue eyes lost all their usual flair and humor. He had been away from his ancestral home for some time, leaving it under Leopold’s administration.

  “Rumors say you’ve gone soft—that you’re unfit to carry Lucen’s legacy, that you came here to be spoiled.” The Arkmarschall’s gaze locked on Albrecht’s. “Go there. Assert your heritage by dueling the dissident head. You know how prideful your people are. I’ll permit you to bring the Third Division. If the duel isn’t enough, then do whatever is necessary.”

  “I will, Arkmarschall. As long as I live, the Eternal Alliance of House Einhart and H?llstein will stand.” His voice was clear and unwavering, filled with gratitude for all the help Leopold had given him.

  “Also, it’s about time you found a suitor, Albrecht. You’re already at that age.”

  “Haha… I will, Arkmarschall. Just need to find a good match. After all, it’s hard for a Draghul to find a partner outside their kind,” Albrecht said with a sheepish laugh.

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  “Pardon me, Arkmarschall,” Halwen cut in, “but what about Vierna and Lina’s training?”

  “They have about a month and a half before the Arkanpfad entrance exam. As I see it, they’ve already grasped the basics, so the training will now move into a more realistic phase.” Leopold conjured a map across the dining table. “This is Schattwald Forest, near our eastern border with the Imperium. Reports suggest a certain group has been gathering there. I want Vierna and Lina to infiltrate them and discover exactly what is happening.”

  “Forgive me, Arkmarschall,” Albrecht said as he studied the map. “But how could any group survive that forest? It’s swarming with mana beasts, and they’re far more vicious there than anywhere else.”

  “We don’t know the details yet,” Leopold admitted. “Several caravans have been raided, and witnesses all pointed to the forest as the raiders’ escape route. At first, I suspected simple bandits, but the targets tell a different story. Most of what they took were war provisions and food — they prioritized those over valuables. Some civilians were carried off rather than killed, which suggests either a cult or a revolutionary cell. The absence of symbols or rituals makes the latter more likely.”

  “This should have been the baron’s responsibility,” He continued, “but he keeps dodging it, insisting there’s no proof of revolution and dismissing it as banditry. And to some degree, he isn’t wrong—the evidence is thin. But I cannot leave it at that.”

  Vierna and Lina leaned over the table, eyes fixed on the map as they absorbed the weight of the mission.

  “But how could they infiltrate such a group?” Halwen asked.

  Leopold pointed to a village—the closest settlement to the forest. “My sources say this village is already disillusioned with the Reich. During the latest census, several men were reported missing. And just as that happened, the caravan raids grew bolder. I suspect those men joined the group and are now hiding in the forest. The village itself is a powder keg, waiting to be lit into full rebellion.”

  The girls exchanged a glance, trying to follow his reasoning, but it slipped far beyond them. This was the mind of someone operating on another plane.

  “The baron needs staff for tax collection in the village. You will serve in that role,” Leopold continued. His gaze fixed on them, sharp and unyielding. “The current officer is known for his brutality, and the baron permits it. Use that. Defend the villagers. Show sympathy. Do whatever you must to win their trust. Your true task is not to collect taxes, but to secure their confidence. Achieve that, and they will reveal what they know about the revolutionary group.”

  Vierna’s hands tightened on the table.

  The Arkmarschall pressed on. “A scenario will be arranged. When the moment comes, seize it—without hesitation. Your appearance will be altered to make infiltration easier. The mission itself is simple: learn how they survive in the forest, find their base, and report back. Do whatever is necessary. Use every advantage I’ve given you.”

  His gaze hardened. “And I’ll say this once more, Vierna, Lina. I will not tell you what the scenario is. It matters that you recognize my intent without me spelling it out. You must learn to analyze, to read the signs, to act on them. Do whatever it takes to make the mission succeed.”

  “However, I now give you a choice,” Leopold said, his tone flat. “If you wish to withdraw from this mission, if you fear your skill is not enough, I will understand. There will be no punishment. You will simply continue your preparation for Ewige Schlange as before. Now choose.”

  Vierna met Leopold’s lone eye. Its black pupil pulled at her, an abyss without end. Yet within that darkness she glimpsed a hidden hearth, steady and burning, staring back into her soul. The gaze was unflinching, unmoving. It trusted her. Not for a moment did he doubt she would succeed.

  And when someone like that—someone in such a place of power—entrusted her so completely, what choice was there but to repay it? Even if it meant stepping into a lion’s den, even if it meant facing enemies of the Reich to uncover the truth. Trust demanded an answer, and she would give it.

  She glanced at Lina. Her friend’s gaze held firm, fierce with loyalty, as if to say: If you go, I go. Always. Wherever Vierna walked, Lina would follow.

  “We will do the mission, Arkmarschall. Thank you for this chance,” Vierna said, her voice firm and without hesitation.

  “Perfect,” Leopold said, as if he had expected their answer before the question was raised. “Halwen, prepare the physical manipulation procedure at once. I will personally mask their thoughts just in case there were mind reader there. The girls leave at first light. Albrecht, you will depart to your home town at once.”

  Leopold turned his attention to the girls. “Do your best on this mission. Remember, you serve the Reich as my hidden blades.”

  Everyone but the Arkmarschall rose to their feet.

  “We will do our best. For the Reich, for Order, for Truth!”

  Leopold replied in kind.

  As quickly as the vow was spoken, the mood shifted. Duty was sealed, and now the Reich demanded celebration.

  Albrecht whistled, signaling his butler and maids. They entered in procession, carrying trays heavy with dishes that gleamed beneath the hall’s lamplight. Roasted game glistened with fat, its skin crisp and bronzed. Loaves of dark rye steamed as they were broken open. Bowls of stew carried the sharp tang of wine and herbs, while platters of smoked fish, spiced cheeses, and sugared fruits lined the table in decadent array.

  Crystal decanters of red wine caught the light like pools of blood as servants poured, placing a glass before each guest. Vierna and Lina received cups of chilled juice instead, the pale liquid bright and almost childish beside the deep wine that stained everyone else’s lips.

  “Now… this is our last meal together for a while,” Leopold said, raising his glass. “The next time we meet, you will all be different people. Prost!”

  “Prost!” the guests echoed, lifting their glasses high before drinking.

  The sharp edge of command melted into the murmur of conversation, knives scraping against plates, the air thick with the scent of meat and bread. The war council had dissolved into something deceptively homely, even warm, laughter rising between mouthfuls. Yet beneath it all, the weight of what had just been decided lingered, heavy as the wine in their cups.