Chapter 119 — In which attempts at sharing but not sharing information are made (3)

  “Do you remember the strange popularity of research on minds among the guilds?”

  “Naturally. Just this morning I was considering if I should throw some of those precious secret research to the public in revenge for trying to destroy your coming-of-age ceremony.”

  Crimo was referring to mages, who made a foolish attempt at showing their dissatisfaction with the current ruler by trying to burn down the ceremonial tree before Vern.

  All of those attempts completely failed thanks to Crimo and Vern’s thorough preparations, but Crimo seemed to still hold a grudge.

  “Regretfully, we have yet to identify the entity, who could’ve commissioned all this research.”

  With a ‘fraud’ spell, Vern tricked almost all guilds and magic families in Rubrun into selling him their precious research.

  And almost without any exception, all the research they offered was related to mind.

  That could not be a coincidence.

  At first they suspected that someone commissioned different groups to do just a part of research to hide the actual goal of it.

  But Vern’s thoughts evolved since that time.

  He grabbed a cup of water to buy himself time to think.

  ‘It feels really similar.’

  Vern remembered the trap that took his and his siblings lives.

  The unexpected betrayal, which they didn’t see coming at all.

  Considering the process the siblings went through to establish this country, they were extremely on guard against any possible backstabbing and revolutionary movements.

  Yet, even with their excessive surveillance of their subjects and disruption of any potential threats, they had no idea at all.

  What happened yesterday — the assassination attempt on Crimo — felt similar.

  And so did that research.

  The water tasted bitter.

  “What happened yesterday… doesn’t it feel similar?”

  “Similar?”

  “To the research. It’s disorganized, not connected at all, but it fits together.”

  Vern deliberately chose his words to guide the gathered thoughts, while he displayed some of the recordings from yesterday.

  The priests of the sun and day gods temple, who performed a strange ritual boosting the power of a relic.

  The servant from Flavun’s envoy, who brought the relic, disguised as a gift, to a hidden spot.

  And the relic being picked up by a strange moving wax figure in the servant’s likeness, who then headed to Crimo.

  In the midst of it, the disruption attempts from mages of Rubrun and other wax figures’ attempts at terrorism, which put a heavy strain on Crimo’s defenses.

  “At first I thought it was all planned… But there is something strange about it.”

  “What is strange?”

  Sangria frowned, as he carefully examined the recordings.

  On the other hand, Crimo and Scarlen, who had better understanding of politics, noticed the same thing as Vern.

  Crimo crossed his arms and explained.

  “All of the people involved are either big fans of hegemony ideology, or separatists.”

  Luminere was one country, but Rubrun, Flavun and Purplus had separate politics, laws and cultures.

  This naturally led to many tensions between them.

  The major ideologies could be roughly divided into four.

  The hegemony advocates believed that Luminere was better off under one ruler uniting everything — a hegemon, who would oversee all three states.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  The separatists thought that the other states were negatively affecting their own states and insisted on separation.

  Then there were those, who promoted friendship between states and increased exchanges, the mediators.

  And the last group, the group that agreed with hegemony advocates that Luminere would be better off if it united in everything, but sought to abolish the institution of thrones and replace them with a council. Those were called the republicans.

  “Lord Candidate Orche is a well-known hegemony advocate and so is his staff.”

  Crimo pointed at the servant, who moved the relic.

  “So are the mages that tried to break my defenses. While the priests of Sun and Day Gods Temple… well, I probably shouldn’t talk for all of them, but their head priests often participate in discussions about the issues of separation..”

  “It’s indeed a bit strange for those people to work together, even if it was to assassinate My Lord.”

  Scarlen glared at the painted with mana faces.

  Sangria tilted his head, as if he still had problems understanding what the three were talking about. Only after a few seconds of silence, did he suddenly exclaim:

  “Ah! I see, it’s similar to the research issue in a sense that the individuals doing it probably don’t know the end goal and don’t know that they’re working together, but they ultimately all fit into a plan.”

  “That’s right.”

  “… There is probably only a few people , who would know the entire plan. They would contact related parties and lead them to do something at a precise time and place, without knowing they’re just a domino piece. If they knew it was an attempt at murdering My Lord, they would probably quickly back out.”

  “… We can also probably assume that Purplus and Flavun didn’t know more than us, they just moved based on some clues they got on their side.”

  Crimo intently watched as someone jumped out of the teleportation circle created by Scarlen’s uncle, and rushed off.

  His gaze then turned to Young Lady Saffra, who was dealing with the priests with the Purplus’ envoy leader.

  “Though I still would wish to have a word with some of them.”

  His eyes were filled with suspicion.

  Vern said nothing to that.

  After throwing the initial pitch, he stayed quiet, letting the three men figure out it among themselves.

  Because he couldn’t share his full theory.

  The theory that someone put those thoughts and plans directly into their heads.

  That was because he couldn’t be sure if just an idea, just knowledge, wouldn’t make them vulnerable.

  Vern always preferred smoke to fire.

  *-*-*

  “This event would make Lord Archmage deeply aware there is someone among us, who wants a civil war. He will be on guard.”

  With the hands behind her back, Saffra strolled through the garden.

  Citrie was following a few steps behind her, listening quietly.

  He was chosen as a messenger, who would carry the two wills to the Archmage to check on their authenticity.

  And it was only a few hours until his departure.

  By all accounts, he should not be taking on the role of Saffra’s guard today, but it was not a problem once Saffra had a word with the knight captain.

  In the future, this maneuver could become a sword pointed at her neck, but that was exactly why she was doing this so openly.

  The Great Ruler Saffaron was famous for using enemies’ weapons against them.

  “It’s best if you don’t urge him. In fact, it’s best if you don’t see him at all unless he calls on you.”

  She stopped in front of phlox flowers and smiled slightly, taking in the beautiful sight.

  “Young Lady.”

  Citrie called out to her, his voice uncharacteristically solemn

  She looked up.

  “For the sake of people, isn’t it the best to resolve this quickly?”

  An innocent question, which carried the weight of the country on its back.

  The longer it takes to choose the new ruler the more ordinary people will suffer.

  The political position of Flavun will be undermined, and merchants will sense a brewing crisis and either retreat or high-hick their prices.

  Flavun currently had two ruler candidates.

  The Yellow Throne was held by the one with most military power.

  And in Flavun, the only ones, who were allowed to hold any military power were nobles.

  While merchants could hire skilled in fighting mercenaries, their number was limited, and the weapons and armors they could buy and equip them with was restricted.

  So, whoever wanted to take the throne needed to convince nobles.

  Currently, both Orche and Mimosa had groups of nobles backing them up.

  But most of the nobles remained undecided, waiting for the will of late General to make the choice for them.

  Once the will is revealed, the ruler will be set.

  Saffra couldn’t accept this though.

  ‘It would be like wrapping the leg in bandages, without attending to the wound.’

  One day, the rot festering in the wound would spread through the entire body and destroy it.

  Whether Orche or Mimosa takes the throne, it was certain that the other would be dissatisfied.

  And it wouldn’t be just them.

  When the late General, Sulfious, took the throne, he was just a commander, who gained popularity due to the war with the neighbor country, Gemma.

  He didn’t have a drop of blood of the previous throne ruler family in him.

  There were still old loyalists out there, waiting to put on the throne an heir they thought deserved the throne.

  They would be made up in large portion of that ‘undecided’ group.

  So, Saffra didn’t want to depend on them.

  Rather, she wanted to rip the power out of their hands.

  To do that, she had to steal the hearts of the group that almost everyone has forgotten about.

  ‘Sulfious didn’t simply get the throne, because some nobles were supporting him.’

  The most important factor in his success were simple people.

  The uneducated farmers and miners, who were willing to grab their tools for him to kill.

  The penny-pinching literates, who were willing to spread a word about him.

  The push-around civil officials, who were willing to skew budgets for him.

  The opportunistic merchants, who were willing to bet on him.

  There were numerous people, who though they had no right ‘to have military power’ , had it simply by what they were willing to sacrifice.

  Saffra needed those people.

  Perhaps Mimosa had a similar idea, because she put a lot of effort in getting the hearts of general public.

  But from Saffra’s perspective, it was not enough.

  ‘An efficient politician must know how to wield both affection and fear.’

  To hold your attention and guide your thoughts like an expert storyteller.

  For that reason, Saffra was slowly weaving a story for them.

  The story of ghosts in bloody dresses, meat flower gardens spelling dark future and of brutal murders.

  But for that story to succeed, she had to make them feel a bit of pain.

  “I once heard a saying, Sir Citrie.”

  She looked down at the phlox flowers again.

  “A kind ruler looks at the ground under their feet. A wise ruler looks at the horizon.”

  “Is it truly wise not to watch for swamps under your feet?”

  Saffra nodded.

  “That’s why I answered to the person, who told me that: ‘Then a great ruler will have someone to watch the ground under their feet and someone to watch the horizon ahead’.”

  She then smiled.

  “I hope our next ruler can be a great one.”

  She was willing to watch the horizon, but was unsure who would watch the ground.

  Citrie watched her with a gaze she couldn’t quite understand, but which felt like Ver would be very annoyed by.

  Some time later, Citrie left and Saffra met with her ladies-in-waiting instead.

  After making sure that no one was eavesdropping, she stated plainly:

  “My father was murdered.”

  She gave a second long pause, before adding:

  “And if he wasn’t, I must make it look like he was.”

  *~*~*