Chapter 337


frustrating political implications and social tensions. A scenario all too familiar throughout history, fratricide is a tragedy that knows no boundaries, regardless of time or culture. While the extent may vary depending on the socio-cultural context, the act of killing one’s own kind is fundamentally regarded as a taboo.

The magical society is particularly sensitive to such taboos. A magician who kills another magician faces execution, and those who deceive or exploit their peers for research purposes are met with severe punishment. The harsh penalties reflect the tumultuous history punctuated by centuries of religious oppression and suffering.

Before the establishment of the Magic Tower, there was no cohesive group to guide and regulate magicians, leading to frequent conflicts amongst them. Those who operated covertly in the shadows were merciless outlaws, void of legal protection or punishment, governed solely by the law of the jungle.

Thus, scholars from the Magic Tower and the Ivory Tower have dubbed this period as the ‘Age of Barbarism.’ However, everything changed with the formation of the Magic Tower.

Discipline was imposed onto the chaotic magical society, a process which saw rivers of blood flow. Combat magicians rallied around the Oracle, purging nonsensical magicians and dismantling schisms. The Age of Barbarism came to an end.

Today, the surveillance and punishment within magical society is firmly in the hands of the Magic Tower and Ivory Tower, monopolizing such authority. In other words, killing a magician without the permission of the Magic Tower is a grave crime.

“Welcome, Colonel. I’ve heard news that you’ve departed from the homeland.”

“Where is Francesca now?”

I swiftly took my passport and soared towards the Magic Tower. Diplomats contacted by the Ministry of Defense guided me to the Public Security headquarters of the Magic Tower.

There, I met her.

“…It’s been a while.”

Finally, I could reunite with Francesca.

“Colonel.”

“I was so astonished to hear that you voluntarily surrendered to Public Security.”

“I apologize for the unnecessary worry I caused.”

Francesca leaned back in her recliner, while I fiddled with the lighter on the opposite sofa. It had been nearly two weeks since we last met, yet her expression seemed quite cheerful.

“Everyone looks worn out after going through a Public Security interrogation. You look rather radiant.”

“Although I was investigated as a suspect, the investigators treated me kindly. They offered many conveniences.”

A senior official within the Secretariat of the Magic Tower, and a promising candidate from the three prominent schools, Francesca was one of the elite magicians who garnered respect and admiration from her peers.

Even for the proud entity of Public Security, treating someone like Francesca as an ordinary individual couldn’t have been an easy task, especially since her ancestor was the Archmage who founded the Magic Tower.

She confessed to killing the necromancer who murdered a magician and submitted all the evidence she had collected to Public Security.

But the crucial detail was that she had been released.

And the fact that the prosecution did not bring her to trial.

“Did everyone really not know there was a necromancer in the Secretariat?”

Francesca nodded, confirming the absurdity.

“Yes. Completely unaware.”

The existence of necromancers, who had shaken the Empire for the past month, was now revealed—none, not even the Public Security of the Magic Tower, Northern Magic Battalion, her affiliated school, nor the Oracle, had known.

Francesca admitted to killing four out of five necromancers, excluding the identified Jean Marbo.

Considering a necromancer is akin to an international terrorist in the global context, this incident involved a civilian slaying four heinous terrorists rather than a military officer or police. Thus, observing the heinous acts committed by Martinez and his gang over two decades, they could indeed be classified as terrorists.

The urgency of the situation and the danger that necromancers posed led the Public Security prosecutor to deem Francesca’s actions to fit under the conditions of self-defense.

Thus, the prosecutor decided not to prosecute Francesca, stating it was to “protect the lives of innocent citizens and safeguard the interests of the Magic Tower.”

Though, that’s merely a legal interpretation.

There are political interpretations at play as well.

“To think that in the Secretariat, which only permits a select few talents, there were four necromancers hidden….”

“Actually, it’s five. Marbo counts too.”

Having a necromancer infiltrate the elite-only Secretariat is disgraceful, but the reality that there were five of them wreaking havoc in the Northern Regions is the real issue.

They allowed foreign officials into a state of emergency, only to discover they were terrorists? And that these terrorists were conducting attacks against the military?

This isn’t just an embarrassment; it is a national dilemma.

I flicked my lighter, posing a question.

“The Empire certainly bears some responsibility for the failed background checks, but undoubtedly, the Magic Tower holds the most significant share. After all, they selected those individuals and sent them to the North, didn’t they?”

“Indeed.”

“If the Empire pushes on this… Wow. Next year’s information agency recruitment is going to have a lot of openings.”

The biggest victim of this incident wasn’t Francesca, but the Empire. The Magic Tower saved face, but the Empire suffered loss of life and property.

Swarm attacks from necromancer-controlled arachnids struck three major strategic facilities known for producing magic stones. Hundreds of missing residents were turned into undead, and several major cities were engulfed in flames overnight.

Yet, the mastermind behind all this was a magician from the Magic Tower? No less than a public servant from the Secretariat?

Naturally, the Imperial Government couldn’t help but suspect the relationship between the necromancers and the Magic Tower. If they pushed a bit further, they could easily delve into the realm of conspiracy—“What if the Oracle conspired with the necromancers to summon demons?” They’d expect the Imperial Guard Headquarters and the Empire’s Information Agency to prove it.

Of course, there was no need for elaborate theories; it was crystal clear that the Kien Empire would lodge powerful protests against the Magic Tower.

There was a possibility of announcements emerging from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the Chancellor, or at worst, the Royal Family levels.

Thus, regardless of what crime the Magic Tower committed, they couldn’t touch a single hair on Francesca. If they did, suspicion would evolve into certainty.

That’s precisely why Francesca could sit there, undisturbed, despite being a public servant granted immunity.

“No worry about your pension being cut. Congratulations.”

“Hmm….”

In the heart of the Magic Tower, Francesca’s residence, a grand artificial sea created by the efforts of wise Archmages filled the walls.

As she gazed at the foamy shoreline, she suddenly began to smile mischievously while opening the cork of wine.

“After two weeks, all we discuss is work?”

“Is that making you unhappy?”

“A little…?”

Francesca bit the pipe of sea foam while preparing some magic herbs, mumbling playfully. It seemed she was intending to enjoy the herbs with her wine. I lit a matchstick for her pipe as she rummaged through her drawer.

Finding fire, Francesca paused and exhaled a plume of smoke.

The faint, swirling smoke escaped her lips, soaked in wine.

When the flame had caught properly, I tossed the spent matchstick into the ashtray and she turned to me.

“To my knowledge, I’ve never seen you use matches, Colonel. Where did you find them?”

“I bought a box.”

“What do you plan to do with them?”

I waved the rattling matchbox.

“Don’t you sometimes need someone to light your matches?”

“How kind of you.”

Public Security was preparing for a thorough investigation in response to the entire situation.

The operation has commenced. The evidence presented by Francesca proved that Martinez and his group were necromancers, prompting public security to begin uncovering the details of the incident.

“Did the Secretariat recently conduct a search? Is that the reason?”

“That’s about the gist of it. Do you still have the copies, Colonel?”

“I’ve already handed them over.”

Before Francesca submitted the evidence she discovered at her northern lodgings and office to public security, she came to me and gave me the copied materials.

I relayed all of that to Senior Analyst Larry.

Considering that this assassination operation stemmed from a terrorism investigation involving Abas and the Information Officers from twenty years ago, reports would have reached not only Leoni but also the Prime Minister.

Anyway.

I sipped the wine Francesca handed me and began discussing the upcoming schedule.

“It’s about the medal the Empire is supposed to award. The ceremony is just around the corner.”

“Time is tight, but we need to prepare. Thanks for letting me know.”

“You have to be ready since you’ll receive the commendation in person, so start preparing now. I’ve informed Camila as well.”

“Oh, right. By the way, where is the Hero?”

“He’s in Abas. Lucia has returned to her homeland.”

With the canonization ceremony approaching, Lucia had long since returned to the cult.

Although Lucia expressed her desire to participate in the medal ceremony, due to her numerous preparations, the Empire and the cult agreed she would send a representative to receive the medal.

“Lucia’s absence makes things a bit awkward, but since it’s an event hosted by the Royal Family, it’s best if we stay sharp.”

“Thanks for the advice.”

“And the canonization ceremony…”

I momentarily trailed off while continuing my explanation.

“There’s a plan to proceed as scheduled, but you’ve received the invitation, right?”

The cult sent out invitations to high-ranking officials from various countries ahead of the canonization ceremony.

The Prime Minister, the President, and the heads of different governments who were invited planned to lead a delegation composed of senior officials and Ministry diplomats while carrying out overseas schedules.

Naturally, since Lucia is the star of the canonization ceremony, invitations were also sent to her colleagues, including us.

The problem is that Francesca is a magician affiliated with the Magic Tower.

“As you know, it’s rare for someone from the Magic Tower to attend a cult event. Invitations have been sent continuously, but…”

The cult has regularly sent invitations to the Magic Tower and the Ivory Tower for special events. However, not a single magician who received the invitation has ever responded.

After all, the cult is the greatest enemy of the Magic Tower.

Unlike the United States or the Soviet Union, which have established embassies and maintained exchanges, the Magic Tower and the cult have adhered to a strict code of ignorance, keeping appearances.

But what kind of crazed magician would dare show their face at a cult event?

This invitation is similar in context.

They extend an invitation out of courtesy but there’s no need to attend, and one shouldn’t feel disappointed for not showing up. No one ever expected them to accept the invitation in the first place.

However, Francesca is not just an ordinary civil servant from the Magic Tower; she is Lucia’s colleague.

“If it were someone else, they wouldn’t be reprimanded for not attending, but Lucia is the main character here.”

Whether attending or not, it’s a conundrum.

Francesca being a descendant of the Archmage is already a major controversy, and the timing couldn’t be worse. The invitation was delivered just as she confessed to having killed four necromancers.

It’s a truly troublesome situation.

“I have no idea what the Duke is doing. Since we’re at it catching demons, we might as well seize the necromancers too.”

To resolve this issue, I sought the wise counsel of my sister Adela, a current diplomat, and officials from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

“Just show your face and come back. If things get dicey, you can send a letter through a representative.”

“Don’t worry.”

Francesca replied.

“It shouldn’t be a problem for me to attend the canonization ceremony this time.”

*

A woman stands atop the marble floor.

The enchanting sight of her silver hair shimmering with a mystical glow is truly beautiful.

Yet, the guards stationed in the corridor don’t even spare her a glance. With heads bowed and chins tucked in, the guards walked silently as the Duke passed through the grand door.

Before her appeared a cozy chamber.

And there, surrounded by people, lay an old man fast asleep.

“Come closer.”

At the woman’s command, the elderly doctors rushed in like a cloud. The men, older than her by decades, bowed before the Duke, who appeared just over thirty.

The elder doctor at the forefront bowed his head and spoke.

“We have the honor of meeting Your Grace, the Duke.”

Duke Alexandra Smirnov of the Northern Regions received the greeting with a slight nod. Then, she asked in a solemn voice.

“What is the condition of His Majesty the Emperor?”

The doctor responded, a hint of trepidation in his tone. He was the Emperor’s Chief Physician.

“The illness has stabilized. It seems that the treatment sent by Your Grace is having an effect.”

“How much has he improved? Be specific.”

“His Majesty shared breakfast with His Highness the Crown Prince. After breakfast, he read and replied to letters from the princesses.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

The Duke slowly moved forward. The Chief Physicians who had been bowing in front of her carefully stepped back to make way.

Standing by the bed, the Duke captured the face of the sleeping Emperor, Nikolai VI, with her cerulean eyes.

Holding the Emperor’s hand gently, the Duke closed her eyes and whispered.

“So it seems.”

She began to speak.

“Is a complete recovery possible?”

“Th-that is…”

The Chief Physicians stuttered in response to the Duke’s question. Among the visibly flustered physicians, the elder doctor who had just bowed to the Duke spoke up.

“Your Grace. I apologize, but for His Majesty’s condition to improve…”

“A miracle.”

The Duke turned to the elder.

Those sapphire-like eyes rested on the Emperor’s Chief Physician.

“You mentioned that to resolve the illness, a miracle is necessary.”

“…….”

“That, in essence, means there’s little to no chance of a full recovery?”

“…I can only convey that the prognosis is quite slim based on the physician’s observations.”

The Duke inquired of the Chief Physician.

“That doesn’t mean there is no possibility at all.”

With those words, the Duke rose from her place.

As she stood, towering over even the stoutest man, the guards stationed in the chamber opened the door wide.

“Inform the Minister of Foreign Affairs. I will get ready, so prepare the Warp Gate.”

“Your Grace.”

The Emperor’s Chief Physician urgently called out to the Duke.

“I must respectfully say that it is far too dangerous for you to take matters into your own hands.”

“Is it more dangerous to venture abroad than to slay a dragon and harvest its bones?”

At the door guarded by the soldiers.

“Go and tell the Saint.”

As she stepped out of the chamber where the Chief Physicians were busy tending to the Emperor, she added.

“I’m simply going to collect my debt.”