Chapter 82
Chapter 82
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 81
Chapter Title: Verdi’s Net
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“Where have you been?”
Waiting for me upon my return to Graypond from Fernan was Saintess Lucia, dressed in her saintly robes with a boldness that showed how comfortable she’d grown with me—her speech had become casual.
“We have to keep showing everyone that you and I are holding discussions, right?”
To the public, our movements together were under constant scrutiny. The story that had spread was that the saintess and the necromancer were spending time together, engaging in deep talks about the kingdom’s future.
In reality, we were just killing time. We simply needed to imprint on the citizens’ minds that we weren’t enemies.
“There was something I needed to take care of.”
Lucia’s expression twisted oddly at my answer.
“In a situation like this? Do you even know how many assassins are out there right now, gunning for you?”
“Kyaa! That was good, so good!”
Just then, Pindenai burst through the door. Her maid outfit was splattered with bloodstains here and there.
“There were only three today, but they were pretty skilled. Looks like they’re finally resorting to elite squads.”
Pindenai had gone out into the city streets, deliberately baiting assassins into fights, and a satisfied smile played on her lips.
Saintess Lucia, seizing the moment, pointed at her and shouted as if to say it was perfect timing.
“Right? That’s what I was going to say! There’s no need to go out hunting assassins on purpose!”
“Aang? They’re the ones coming to kill us—what did I do wrong?”
Lucia argued there was no need to lure assassins out, while Pindenai countered that since they were coming to kill us anyway, what was wrong with turning the tables and killing them instead.
Both sides made sense, but if I had to take one, I’d side with Pindenai this time.
“Her actions are necessary.”
“Haang! See that? The master’s already head over heels for me and won’t listen to a religious fanatic like you!”
Pindenai sidled right up to me and hooked her arm through mine. Even as I glared at her to know her place, she deliberately pressed her chest against me in response.
“Getting excited?”
“……Don’t shove your pointy bits at me.”
Irritated, I snapped a bit harshly, and Pindenai exploded in outrage instead.
“Pointy bits? Do you know how precious these are!”
She thrust her chest forward proudly as she shouted.
At the lewd display, Lucia flushed red and bowed her head, while I closed my eyes, too annoyed to deal with it.
Pindenai huffed off to a corner of the room, grumbling to herself as she started fiddling with something.
I calmly opened my eyes again and looked at Lucia.
“Anyway, Pindenai was just doing what was needed for me.”
Reports kept coming in to Pindenai about the assassins’ features, speech patterns, the names of the gods they invoked, and more. I was using that to track down the root of these killers.
“The random god names they shouted at first have now unified under Hertia.”
“……The bishop’s side, who worship the goddess Hertia, has been friendly toward us.”
It felt like they were trying to force suspicion onto Hertia’s followers, but I couldn’t dismiss it simply. They might have twisted it so that Hertia’s priests really were sending the assassins.
It was a game of rock-paper-scissors.
Ripping aside the curtain rashly and stabbing blindly carried too much risk.
If I struck wrong, the image of me, a necromancer, oppressing religion could stick.
“Since it’s unified under the goddess Hertia, it looks like the groups sending assassins have formed some kind of alliance.”
I stayed holed up in the royal quarter, with only Pindenai—who had info on me—going out to slaughter assassins.
They’d inevitably have to join forces.
“But thanks to Pindenai doing well, they’ll try pressuring me in other ways now.”
Even if they tried hounding me through religious doctrine, I wielded holy power, and the saintess was on my side.
Even if they wanted to assassinate me to end it despite the losses, Pindenai stood like a demon blocking the way.
So switching tactics was obvious.
“What other plans do they have?”
As Lucia asked, a teacup slid toward me from the side. Pindenai had brewed tea.
I paused my response and frowned at the cup.
“Didn’t I tell you not to brew tea?”
I distinctly remembered telling her it tasted like pig piss and wasted the leaves.
But Pindenai huffed and shot back.
“Argh, seriously. I did a good job this time.”
With a subtle expression, I picked it up, sniffed it, and brought it to my lips.
Then set it right back down.
“Take it away.”
“……”
“From pig piss to actual pig—you’ve made progress.”
“Wrong master, wrong life.”
Grumbling that it sucked, Pindenai snatched the cup and chugged it herself.
“Uweck!”
Then bolted to the bathroom.
From what I’d seen, she wasn’t just brewing tea—she was steeping something else in it too.
“……”
Lucia stared at us with a dumbfounded look, like we were putting on a play.
I steered the conversation back to the main topic.
“Yeah, they won’t strike at me directly anymore. They’ll go indirect, trying to loop around. It’s what I expected. I’ve already scattered some tasty bait for them.”
“Bait?”
Lucia, not getting it. No need to explain everything to her, but I tapped my cheek with a finger and answered.
“Do you remember the gauze on my cheek when we first met at that Mersenne restaurant?”
“I don’t really want to talk about that time, but yeah, I remember.”
As Lucia answered awkwardly, I gave a slight smile.
“It was a wound my brother Darius left.”
“The Count of Northsweden? You seemed close with your sister, but not so much with the count?”
True to form as a saintess, Lucia immediately fretted. More surprising was her thinking Dia and I seemed close, but anyway.
I shook my head.
“No, he made it on purpose.”
Right on my face, too.
It had to be big and obvious.
Because I needed to publicly announce that Darius and I weren’t on good terms.
It was right before the Grand Debate, so it’d have maximum effect.
It was bait I’d prepared in advance for the bishops desperately trying to find any flaw in me.
They’d see a glimmer of hope now. A tiny hole in an ironclad wall—they’d rejoice.
But it wouldn’t take long to realize the waters they’d been swimming so hard in were already inside a net.
* * *
Even Darius, who never fidgeted, couldn’t help being tense now.
He took deep breaths while staring at the letter in his hand.
He’d heard explanations from his brother Deius before returning to Northsweden, but facing the situation head-on still rattled him.
‘I wonder if I can pull this off.’
The conversations with the priests who’d come calling from now on. He worried if he, a warrior, could outtalk these sly religious types with words.
‘I have to.’
He couldn’t afford to stumble here.
As he steeled himself, thinking it was time to show the dignity of a family head—
Knock knock.
“Family head, a guest has arrived.”
The butler’s voice from outside.
“Let them in.”
Darius lowered his voice gravelly, packing his expression with irritation.
The man who entered through the door the butler opened was sleazy-looking. His clothes were plain, but he reeked of perfume and exuded an air of nobility.
Typical church official vibe.
- First impressions matter. Don’t hide your displeasure.
Deius’s calm voice echoed in his mind. Darius snorted and demanded.
“What business do you have in this backwater? Your gods don’t seem too interested in the north anyway!”
Such rudeness right from the start gave the priest pause, but he bowed calmly and greeted him.
“I see the giant of the north, the great bulwark, the Border Count of Northsweden.”
“Krung.”
He made no effort to hide his displeasure. Doing it turned out not so hard.
“Get to the point. I don’t have much to say to your kind.”
“Very well. It concerns your younger brother, Deius Verdi……”
Bam!
- React passionately when my name comes up. Smashing the desk would be perfect.
- You’ll do great—it’s what you always do.
Recalling Dia’s giggling face beside him, he slammed the desk. The room shook violently, startling the priest.
“You dare mention that bastard’s name in front of me?”
- Also, bring up the tough topics yourself first, so they don’t have to.
“Before he got booted from the palace, I should’ve killed that punk. A beating wasn’t enough.”
The Verdi family had produced a black mage. From family head Darius’s standpoint, it was infuriating.
That was the scenario.
In reality, the nobles around were already shunning the current Verdis.
Even with royal approval, old prejudices and traditions lingered.
“So, as expected, the wound on Deius’s face from before the Grand Debate was your doing, Lord Darius.”
The priest smiled faintly.
He was delighted that the info about Darius scarring Deius’s face was confirmed.
Darius was all but convinced he’d hooked him.
“Yeah! I overlooked his thug behavior while he stayed in Northsweden, but that limit’s reached—what? Black mage? I’ve got no face to show our ancestors!”
Huffing, Darius glared at the priest with fierce killing intent.
“So. You came to ruin my mood by bringing up that worthless punk? Mission accomplished, then.”
At Darius’s growl implying he’d take full responsibility, the priest dropped to his knees and cried out.
Thinking this was the turning point.
“I know the Border Count doesn’t look kindly on necromancers. That’s why I’ve come to assist you.”
“Assist?”
“Yes, exactly!”
Looking at the back of the bowing man’s head, Darius couldn’t fully hide his slipping smile.
Had he come this far only to trip now?
- Sigh, if it feels like he’s catching on, just blow up. Dumb and angry—that’s you.
“You think you can help me? I’ll clean up my own blood! I don’t need jack from you religious scum!”
Bam—he smashed the desk again with his fist. It split clean in two from the force.
The priest trembled, fully sensing the depth of Darius’s rage toward Deius.
‘Ah, this desk was expensive.’
Darius just worried about Dia’s neurotic scolding for wrecking a pricey desk.