Putting Things in Order (3)
Following our brief respite in Damus County, we made the trek back to the imperial capital. It left a bitter taste in my mouth knowing we had spent far more time bumping along in transit than actually resting.
"We shall proceed directly to the Imperial Palace," Princess Lobelia said. "What will you do, Yohan?"
"I should stay at the Cradle."
I had accompanied them as far as the capital, but following them past the palace gates was out of the question. As I had told them before, a common noble like me would only hold them back.
Instead, I would wait for Ariel to return from my usual haunt.
"I will mostly be at the alchemy workshop, Ariel, so please take care of what you need to."
"Yes, Yohan."
Being right where she could easily find me whenever she grew exhausted—that was the very best I could do for her. It was the sole reason I had dragged myself all the way back here. I had been half-coerced into coming, sure, but it wasn't something to complain about.
"Then I'll walk from here," I said, stepping away.
"Will you be all right?" Ariel asked, her eyes wavering with concern. "There might still be people lurking about who are targeting us."
"Yuna is with me, so we won't get ambushed. There's no need to worry."
"...Having Lady Yuna by your side is precisely what worries me most."
"Why?" Yuna chimed in, a sly smirk tugging at her lips. "Does our great ducal scion lack confidence? Getting all anxious just being separated for a little while?"
"......"
I caught Yuna by the scruff of her neck before she could bait Ariel any further and dragged her back. We hadn't even unpacked our bags—let's not start bickering now. We hadn't even shaken off the travel fatigue, so why the hell were they engaging in a battle of wills? If you're going to fight, do it where I can't see!
"...I'll be on my way," I said, offering a weary bow.
"Yes, Yohan. I trust you."
Somehow, Ariel's parting words of trust sounded heavily laden with a completely different meaning. She was worried about my safety... right?
Fortunately, nothing eventful occurred on our walk back to the Cradle. In fact, the capital was eerily quiet. Every pedestrian hurrying down the streets moved with exaggerated caution, casting wary glances over their shoulders.
"The mood out here is unsettling," Yuna murmured.
The quiet before the storm. There was no better phrase to describe the prevailing atmosphere. Holing myself up inside the Cradle was one thing, but I needed to dig up some information on what was brewing.
"Hm?"
Just as we crossed through the grand gates of the Cradle, an ornate carriage was making its way toward the exit. It rolled alongside us before coming to a smooth halt.
"I heard you went down to Damus County," a gentle voice remarked. "Was that mistaken?"
"Ah, Chancellor."
The carriage window slid open to reveal Chancellor Olga Hermod. It was the first time I had ever seen her leaving the premises.
"A few things came up, so we returned immediately," I replied.
"Student Yohan carries quite a burden as always."
"If you don't mind me asking, Chancellor, what business takes you outside?"
It wasn't that Olga Hermod never stepped foot beyond the academy grounds, but given the massive magical barriers she maintained over the Cradle, she rarely roamed outside unless an extraordinary situation demanded it. At most, it was for carefully prepared field exercises like the last one. If this wasn't an internal academy matter, there were only two possibilities: either a major crisis had erupted at the Magic Tower under her governance, or...
"I am merely going to meet with that damn Emperor bastard," she muttered under her breath.
"Someone might hear you."
"Impossible. Do you truly believe I wouldn't take precautions against eavesdroppers?"
"......"
Looking at it another way, badmouthing the Emperor required that level of meticulous preparation.
"On our way back, we felt a strange tension in the air," I noted. "Has something happened recently? The streets seemed thoroughly unsettled."
"Who can say? Rumors have been circulating that Loki, that wretched cur, is plotting something again. But there is no tangible evidence."
"Only empty rumors?"
"Indeed. So please exercise caution whenever you venture outside, Student Yohan."
It seemed several conflicting rumors were spreading simultaneously—almost certainly planted by Second Prince Loki himself. It was his signature method: cloaking his true objective behind a smokescreen of bizarre, contradictory rumors. Because his actual atrocities were equally monstrous, you couldn't afford to overlook a single one.
"Whatever his scheme may be, his target is bound to be one of the other imperial royals," Olga said. "As long as we take care not to get entangled, we should be fine."
"Ah, yes."
By now, the number of people who had been swept into the Second Prince's machinations easily surpassed three digits. The man never hesitated to use any means necessary to achieve his ends. He was a fiend who had once poisoned an entire village just to assassinate a rival sibling. It was truly magnificent, in the worst possible way. He was the kind of madman who would gladly burn down an entire cottage just to catch a single flea.
"Safe travels, then," I said.
Yuna and I parted ways with Olga Hermod and stepped fully into the academy grounds. And the very first thing we realized upon crossing the threshold was...
"There are barely any people around, huh?" Yuna noted, looking across the vast courtyards.
"It's probably because it's vacation."
Even accounting for the break, the student population had dwindled drastically.
In the wake of the terror attack by Under Chain, Olga Hermod had poured every ounce of her strength into stabilizing the Cradle. The academy had originally endured under the shield of her absolute presence. Having pushed forward with the field exercise and brought it to a successful conclusion, she had reasonably restored the academy's tarnished honor.
Yet Olga Hermod had not stopped there. She knew all too well the true genesis of the calamity wrought by Under Chain.
"In total, one hundred and fourteen individuals have been identified."
Spies and turncoats within the student body.
Until now, she had tolerated their presence, rationalizing that they had made those wretched choices not out of innate malice, but because no one had reached out a hand to save them. But the disaster of Under Chain's raid had blossomed directly from their betrayal. Believing she could gently reform them in a proper environment had proven to be a fatal oversight.
"Quite a substantial number," a deep voice echoed across the imperial audience chamber.
Olga Hermod had rooted out every single spy and turncoat embedded in the Cradle and presented the comprehensive dossier to the Emperor. Emperor Abraham sat upon his throne, surprised that the famously gentle Archmage had executed such a ruthless, thorough purge.
"I was informed beforehand of the Tower Master's decision, but looking upon the actual tally makes the reality far more vivid."
Abraham held profound respect for Olga Hermod. Among those who had marched through blood-soaked battlefields and returned, those who still preserved anything resembling humanity were exceedingly rare. Yet her current methodology felt strikingly close to Abraham's own—a cold, calculated eradication of hidden rot.
"And how did you dispose of these turncoats, Tower Master?" Abraham asked with a twisted smirk. "Do you truly still believe they can be reconciled to our side?"
"They are still children, Your Majesty."
"Yet they are vermin who inflict harm. Executing them is the cleanest remedy."
"Punishment does not necessarily require a bloody purge."
"Execution is swift, and leaves no loose threads."
"I happen to have a fondness for slow, troublesome work."
At Olga Hermod's resolute retort, Abraham let out a dry scoff. "Then do as you see fit."
Ultimately, Abraham chose to defer to her judgment. Whatever form her punishment took, it remained an undeniable achievement that she had rooted out a hundred and fourteen traitors. The burden of enforcing that sentence fell entirely on her shoulders, so even if the process proved slow and cumbersome, it was no concern of his.
"Be that as it may, this leaves a tremendous void in your ranks," Abraham observed.
"Pardon?"
"With the student body hollowed out so drastically, will it not hinder the academy's curriculum?"
"A minor adjustment to the syllabus should suffice—"
"I have already burdened you with the disposal of the turncoats. I cannot allow you to labor under structural deficits as well."
Abraham had yielded on the fate of the traitors. Therefore, it was Olga's turn to yield a step in return.
"We shall augment the student body," the Emperor declared.
"You... wish to expand admissions? You cannot mean accepting more freshmen mid-term. Are you suggesting we take in transfer students?"
"Precisely. We can permit existing students who wish to skip grades to advance, while simultaneously administering entrance examinations to admit qualified peers. Does that not sound reasonable?"
"......"
It wasn't an absurd proposal on paper. Yet there was always an underlying motive when the Emperor proposed such an elaborate arrangement.
"Do you intend to place imperial personnel inside the Cradle, Your Majesty?"
"Why would I bother?"
Abraham's scoff rang true. There was no reason to go through the trouble of planting an imperial agent in the Cradle at this late stage. It was infinitely faster to co-opt existing students, just as the terror factions had done. More importantly, the Emperor possessed the absolute authority to install anyone he wished without resorting to such bureaucratic pretense.
"The child of an old, dear friend of mine expressed a desire to enter the Cradle," Abraham said smoothly. "I am merely exercising a modest degree of imperial privilege."
"...An old friend?"
"Indeed."
A blatant lie. Even the urchins running through the capital gutters knew Emperor Abraham possessed no one he could call a friend. He was a sovereign who could keep no companions near his throne. Over the course of his long life, he had endured countless betrayals and orchestrated just as many purges. To him, the closest living beings were merely retainers to be exploited.
"The rest of the transfers are simply to fill out the empty ranks while we are at it," Abraham continued. "A convenient smokescreen, perhaps. The threshold of the Cradle has always been excessively high; lowering it slightly should do no harm, would you not agree?"
"I share that sentiment, however..."
Just who could possibly warrant personal intervention from the Emperor himself? Unease curled in the pit of Olga's stomach. A 'dear friend' was a transparent fabrication. But if he was willing to invoke such an obvious lie just to slip someone through the academy's gates, what was the real objective?
"Well, since I have imposed such a request upon you, it is only proper that I introduce her," Abraham said, gesturing toward the shadows behind the throne. "Come, offer your greetings to the Tower Master."
"Yes."
"—!"
Olga Hermod's breath hitched in sheer shock. As a figure clad in a deep hood took a delicate step forward from the gloom, cold dread gripped her heart.
Since when was someone standing there?
Olga had maintained absolute awareness of every living presence within the hall. Though Abraham's monstrous aura was overwhelming on its own, the elite knights guarding his flanks were formidable masters in their own right. Yet Olga had cataloged each and every one of them without exception.
That absolute spatial awareness was second nature to her—the pinnacle master of spatial distortion and sensory-bending illusion magic. And yet, she had completely failed to perceive the cloaked figure.
It was as though the girl's existence had been etched into reality only a fraction of a second ago.
"Greetings, Tower Master. It is an honor to meet you."
The voice was rigid, yet undeniably youthful.
The figure reached up and pushed back the deep hood, releasing a waterfall of radiant golden hair that cascaded past her shoulders. Eyes like brilliant, polished sapphires locked onto Olga Hermod. Her gaze was chillingly clear, yet her porcelain face remained utterly vacant of emotion, matching the stiffness of her tone.
She was a girl of breathtaking beauty.
Yet Olga Hermod paid no heed to her appearance. The only detail that seared itself into her consciousness was the undeniable truth of her youth.
To possess the skill to completely deceive my senses at such an age?
It was inconceivable. Had she halted her aging through immense magical power or an esoteric ability, much like Emperor Abraham himself? The thought crossed Olga's mind, only to be rejected a moment later as she mentally shook her head.
No. That isn't it.
Olga Hermod lived and breathed within the realm of illusions. Precisely because she governed falsehoods, her ability to distinguish truth from fabrication surpassed all others. One could never hope to control an illusion without an unflinching grasp of reality. Thus, she knew with absolute certainty that this girl was not disguising her physical age.
The girl was deceiving something far greater than mere years.
Then what was she hiding?
Ah.
The moment the thought fully crystallized, understanding struck Olga like a physical blow.
An existence that even the Emperor could not dare disregard. A legendary entity woven into the very fabric of the Miltonia Empire's history. A transcendent being capable of deceiving the world itself to bend destiny to her will.
The Prophet.
"...The Oracle?"
"Yes."
At Olga Hermod's murmured realization, a gentle, subtle smile finally touched the Oracle's expressionless lips. As if acknowledging Olga's brilliance for uncovering the answer, she offered an impeccable, graceful curtsy before completing her introduction.
"My name is Alice. I look forward to your guidance, Chancellor."