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“Are you getting ready to go out?”

Camila, lounging on the sofa while munching on the snacks delivered by room service, cast a quick glance in my direction. Interrupting her TV show, she suddenly fired off the question while furiously mashing the remote to change channels.

But perhaps unable to find a channel she liked, Camila switched off the TV. It seemed that news spewing machines like that held no interest for her—a parrot could relay the same info.

Instead, she found herself a new source of entertainment.

Swinging her legs playfully off the sofa, Camila sat up and began to look behind her.

“Why are you suddenly dressing up? You just came back not too long ago, and you even took a shower.”

I wiped the moisture from my face and wrists, shaking off the towel with an indifferent gesture.

“I’m just stepping out for a bit.”

“At this hour?”

The wall clock read 10:43 PM. I donned the suit I had left on the bed, while Camila, sprawled on the back of the sofa, gave me an inquisitive look.

Pausing for a moment in silence, she threw me a random query.

“Can you take me with you?”

“No, I can go alone.”

“Is it work-related?”

Nodding while patting the dust off my collar, I confirmed.

“Where are you heading?”

“Who knows?”

In my tidy suit, I grabbed my briefcase while replying to Camila’s inquiry.

“To the mortuary?”

—

Episode 14 – One Religion, One Belief, Two Saints

A black sedan with diplomatic license plates pulled up in front of the hotel entrance.

The imperial diplomat behind the wheel parked the car in a shaded spot. A suit man waiting at the entrance carefully opened the door for me, and I stepped out without lifting a finger.

The hotel lobby, where only distinguished guests visiting Lateran could stay, was swarming with suit men.

The suit men with earpieces were flashing sharp gazes from behind their sunglasses.

As I passed through the entrance, I became the center of attention, making my way toward the security checkpoint.

“Please provide your identification and name.”

“Frederick Nostrim. I am with the Ministry of Defense of Abas.”

The civil servant from the cult sitting at the security checkpoint immediately took my passport and picked up the receiver to contact the Embassy of Abas. Beside the phone-wielding civil servant sat a police officer checking the passport with a terminal.

“Identity confirmed, brother. You may proceed to the elevator.”

Before passing through the non-destructive scanner, I left my bag in the lobby and went through the checkpoint.

At that moment, several of the suit men loitering quietly followed behind me. They were bodyguards from the Imperial Guard.

The Imperial Guard functions like a presidential security service.

It consists of three protection divisions and five security divisions, each with different responsibilities. Mainly, the protection division is responsible for the close protection of the emperor, while the security division takes care of locations like palaces and villas.

While it’s called a protection force, it’s essentially the emperor’s personal guard.

Anyway, they are a difficult bunch to deal with in every way.

“……”

The guards who got on the elevator didn’t say a single word. Not even when the button for upper floors was pressed, or until we started to ascend.

Even when the time came to disembark, they remained silent. They only stood close to me, clearing the path with their hands pointing in the right direction.

The door at the end of the corridor.

There was only one room on the top floor of the hotel. As if only one person could stay in this room.

There was no need to ponder who that person might be.

—

There’s a famous saying among scholars studying the Kien Empire.

The history of the Smirnov Dynasty is the history of the Empire.

Numerous nations that left their names in history have gone through cycles of rise and fall.

No flower lasts red for more than ten days, and absolute power absolutely corrupts. A nation that has reached its golden age inevitably walks the path of decline and ultimately disappears or gets absorbed by others.

But not the Kien Empire.

While a path of decline does exist in its past, it has never been defeated for even a moment.

The history of the Empire is the history of the Smirnov Dynasty, and the Empire is almost synonymous with the lands of the Smirnov Dynasty.

And a member of that dynasty stands right before my eyes.

“You’ve arrived.”

The ruling Smirnov Dynasty, the heart of the dynasty itself, the daughter of the late Emperor Pyotr II, Alexandra Petrovna, recognized me as I entered the hotel room.

“Are you Frederick of the Nostrim Family?”

Her hair shimmered like silver, and her eyes sparkled as if inlaid with sapphires.

Despite being over a hundred years old, the Duke retained the youthful appearance of her younger days, and the vigor of youth could even be felt in her voice.

Knowing my name and surname but not my face suggested she hadn’t conducted a thorough background check. If the Empire Information Agency had looked me up, they would surely have recognized what I looked like.

“Your Grace, I am honored to meet you. I am Frederick Nostrim.”

I greeted the Duke in a polite tone.

However, I did not bow or lower my head.

Military protocol dictates that one does not bow in ordinary circumstances. Besides, I am also a diplomat right now.

A fluffy chair and a fireplace, the Duke with a thick grimoire—what a peculiar harmony it was. He looked just like a mystical magician from a movie.

But unlike the typical mage, represented by a pointed hat and a cape, the Duke wore a red uniform. His appearance was closer to royalty than a soldier, yet the numerous medals adorned on his uniform were certainly not things a mere noble would possess.

As steam billowed from a teapot floating gently in mid-air, the Duke set his teacup down and casually initiated the conversation.

“You’ve arrived earlier than expected. I never imagined you would come so quickly.”

“I came because you requested me, Your Grace.”

“Who informed you of this news?”

“Miss Ranieri from Patalia.”

Leaning comfortably in his chair with the grimoire resting between his knees and head, Alexandra suddenly muttered as she detached her gaze from the floating book.

“If it’s a child of Ranieri… it must be Francesca.”

The Duke stared into the fireplace, his eyes filled with melancholy as if recalling events from long ago.

As the thick tome of magic soared toward the bookshelf with a thud, the teapot, having fulfilled its role by filling the teacups, slowly settled onto the table. Alexandra quenched her thirst with tea and lightly mentioned the past.

“Is the child of Ranieri doing well? Given her exceptional talent, it must have been a heavy burden for her.”

It was a question about Francesca’s condition. With nothing to hide, I answered honestly.

“She is doing well. Her condition improved right after she consumed the elixir sent from the Ivory Tower.”

“If someone had the means to send her elixirs from the Ivory Tower, it’s likely that it was Niaji, Mukhtar’s son. Am I correct?”

“Yes.”

“I see.”

The Duke nodded in agreement, his expression one of relief.

“If it’s Niaji, then he likely selected something of good quality. He must have sent an elixir that can even save a critically ill patient. But what about you? If you faced a demon with a body that can wield neither divine nor magical powers, you must have sustained serious injuries.”

It seemed Francesca’s words about the extraordinary perception of those who reached the rank of Archmage were not a lie. The Duke had seen right through my condition without any further investigation.

“Fortunately, I have not died.”

“Given that, you seem to be alright.”

Having emptied his teacup, the Duke rose to his feet.

Despite being someone from a hundred years ago, she was taller than any sturdy man. As the flames flickered, casting a giant shadow across the hotel room, I cautiously surveyed my surroundings.

At that moment, the Duke suddenly spoke up. Without even looking back towards me, she calmly stated.

“There are no guards in the room I’m staying in. So there’s no need for you to be tense or watchful.”

Just as she said, there was no sign of life in the guest room.

The same went for the hallway. Although the Duke, a member of royalty, was staying right here, unlike the heavily guarded lobby, there were no guards even on the top floor.

But then again, did this individual even need guards or information officers in the first place?

Who would dare to claim to be the bodyguard of the Archmage Duke? That would be like asking an elementary school student to take care of an adult.

Of course, even if reality was that way, it was undoubtedly a mistake not to have assigned any guards.

Yet the Duke remained calm, merely tilting her teacup. As I closely examined her gaze and gestures, it seemed she was quite accustomed to this situation.

Regarding her reasoning for not having guards, the Duke stated,

“It’s very uncomfortable to have someone loitering outside the door. There are already plenty of eyes on me, so I feel it’s unnecessary to trouble myself with the guarding of the corridor.”

The Duke slowly walked to the window.

In a situation without guards, she openly exposed her back to the outside but appeared utterly unbothered. Standing by the window with her teacup in hand, the Archmage gazed down at the night view of Lateran, a holy land for the cult.

“Isn’t it so?”

“I don’t think it’s a topic I can comment on carelessly.”

“Then we should talk about something you can discuss.”

The Duke turned her body, sitting on the window sill.

Carefully placing her teacup down and resting her hands on her knees, she finally broached the main subject.

“I have something I wish to ask you.”

“Please, go ahead.”

“Can you help me meet the red-haired child?”

 

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