Chapter 83
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 83
Chapter Title: The Mage of the Imperial Palace (5)
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The Western Annex, located beside the main palace, was the residence of the Second Prince, Valerius.
The corridor in front of his private chambers was suffocatingly quiet.
Miriel stood before the door and took a short, deep breath.
At Elterion Academy, she always held her head high.
But as time passed here in the imperial palace, she felt more acutely how different the air was.
She hid her trembling fingertips and gave a glance to the maid standing beside her.
"Please inform His Highness that the second daughter of Duke Adrian's family, Miriel Adrian, requests an audience."
"Please wait a moment."
As the maid entered, Miriel bit the inside of her lip hard to bring color back to it.
Her father's orders, the honor of her family, and her own ambitions.
The weight pressing down on her shoulders was immense.
"His Highness grants you an audience."
Soon, the door opened.
Miriel forcibly softened her stiff expression and stepped inside, wearing her most elegant smile like a mask.
"..."
No sooner had she entered the room than the sharp scent of whiskey and a fishy perfume assaulted her nose.
On the sofa at the back of the dimly lit room, Second Prince Valerius lay sprawled in a sloppy posture.
He wasn't alone.
A woman in flimsy attire was nestled in his arms, breathing raggedly.
"Hmm?"
Prince Valerius eyed Miriel with half-lidded eyes.
"The daughter of Duke Adrian... right?"
The prince's gaze started at Miriel's face, trailed down her neckline, and lingered brazenly on her chest.
"The one I remember was... what was it, bigger up top. And down below too..."
The prince chuckled lewdly as he roughly grabbed the chest of the woman in his arms.
"This one's big too."
The woman let out a flirtatious moan, but the prince's eyes remained fixed on Miriel.
Vulgar.
Miriel clicked her tongue inwardly but kept her expression unchanged as she bowed her head.
"The bigger one is my older sister, Adella Adrian."
"Then you are?"
"...I am the second daughter, Miriel Adrian."
"Ah! That's right. Duke Adrian has two daughters."
Valerius shook his whiskey glass and smacked his lips.
"Well, not as big as the older one, but the smaller one's not bad either."
"..."
"Have some confidence, miss. You're bigger than that little brat who's becoming an Archmage, aren't you? That's more than average enough."
Miriel gripped the top of her dress tightly.
Her nails dug into her palm.
"Thank you for the kind words."
Showing any displeasure here would only give him ammunition.
This man was just a pervert who enjoyed making others feel humiliated.
As Miriel bowed her head as if unperturbed, Prince Valerius shook his head in boredom.
The prince tossed the remaining whiskey in his glass down his throat in one gulp.
-Clang!
The empty glass slammed roughly against the table.
"So, I heard from the duke... You know that kid getting appointed as Archmage tomorrow?"
"Yes. We are seniors and juniors at Elterion Academy."
Miriel got straight to the point.
"I've arranged a separate meeting with Miss Lunaris Evermoon after tomorrow's appointment ceremony. If Your Highness would graciously extend your hand first..."
"Ha! I don't like that."
Prince Valerius scowled fiercely.
"Why should I have to cater to some damn girl? She should be the one crawling to me on her knees first."
"Your Highness."
"A magic rag that can only copy natural phenomena acting all high and mighty. Does she think the imperial family is a joke?"
"Tomorrow is the day of the ceremony itself, so the girl will be quite busy."
Miriel persuaded the prince in a calm voice.
"And rather than meeting her privately, showing magnanimity by extending your hand first in front of everyone would be advantageous for Your Highness as well..."
"Ah~ annoying, annoying."
Prince Valerius waved his hand irritably.
His eyes were glazed with alcohol, but deep within, they were chillingly cold.
"Youngest Archmage, empire's greatest talent... all meaningless."
The prince's gaze fixed on the empty glass on the table.
"In the end, one slash of a sword kills them just the same, doesn't it?"
He merely swung his hand lightly to the side like a blade.
The crystal glass was cleanly sliced in half.
The cut surface was mirror-smooth.
The sound of the top half falling and shattering echoed belatedly.
Miriel involuntarily gasped.
She saw the invisible blade forming at the prince's fingertips.
The realm of shaping mana into a sword.
One more step beyond that—compressing mana to the extreme to forge it into a named sword.
Then one could wield aura.
Only then would they reach the final realm all swordsmen dreamed of: Swordmaster.
Prince Valerius was a swordsman standing right before that wall.
Just one step away.
He was also a tragic genius who had been stuck in place for years, unable to take that single step.
It was common knowledge among those in the know that his indulgence in alcohol and women stemmed from that frustration.
Those flocking to support him as emperor were drawn to that very talent.
He's just momentarily lost after hitting the wall, they said.
Once he steels himself again, he would undoubtedly be the most fitting for the throne.
"Mages are so convenient."
Prince Valerius grabbed the bottle outright and poured the harsh liquor down his throat.
He had to drink like this for his mana-saturated body to even get drunk.
"Answers to overcoming the wall are scattered everywhere for reference."
The prince stared blankly at the bottle, now nearly empty, and chuckled.
"It's hilarious how they overcome a wall that's not even a real wall and get hailed as Archmages and such."
"..."
"A kid barely in her teens overcomes it, while others... ha!"
A self-mocking mutter.
Miriel kept her mouth shut.
Rather than disgust, she felt a pang of sympathy.
Anyone else saying it might be different, but coming from the one pounding at the wall himself, the words carried extra weight.
Besides, though he was belittling Lunaris's achievements now under the influence, the truth was that Prince Valerius himself wanted to meet her more than anyone.
He was the one who had hinted to Duke Adrian and his faction's nobles that they needed to build rapport first.
Frustrated, he envied her.
Unable to have it, he despised her.
Those contradictory emotions were shaking Prince Valerius to his core.
"By the way, who's bestowing the staff tomorrow? His Majesty himself?"
"I believe it will be the First Prince acting as proxy."
"My brother? Ha!"
Prince Valerius's eye twitched slightly.
But only for a moment. He draped his arm over the shoulder of the woman beside him and waved his hand dismissively.
"If you have nothing more to say, leave. Or what, miss, care for a drink with me?"
"...I must decline."
"Tch! No fun."
He closed his eyes tightly and shooed her away with a wave.
"I'll see you tomorrow," Miriel said, bowing with impeccable poise before exiting the room.
Click. The door shut behind her, and her legs nearly gave out.
A chilling cold that even midsummer heat couldn't penetrate.
The acrid, bitter smell of medicine stinging the nose.
"..."
Crown Prince—no, First Prince Karian Belhart gripped his handkerchief tightly.
His knuckles were pale.
It was clearly summer, yet his hands were ice-cold.
His throat burned.
The prince lifted the glass of water from the table to his lips.
Gulp. The sound of swallowing echoed unusually loudly.
The sensation of forcing it down his cracked esophagus.
"Cough, hack! Khek!"
A fit of coughing erupted.
The prince hurriedly covered his mouth with the handkerchief and hunched over.
"A-Are you alright, Your Highness?!"
The explosive coughs continued unabated for a while.
When they finally subsided, the handkerchief he pulled from his mouth was stained red.
"Your Highness..."
The attendant's face turned ashen.
"You should retire and rest now..."
"Enough."
Karian folded the handkerchief matter-of-factly and pocketed it.
It was routine by now.
"More importantly, the preparations?"
"Yes. As you instructed, I've had the item brought out."
The attendant signaled toward the door, and two knights entered carrying a long box from either side.
It wasn't heavy.
But far too dangerous for one person to handle alone.
The iron chains wrapped tightly around the box, and the floating runes amplified the ominous aura.
Innocent Hunger, Arche.
The staff left by the 'Witch of Gluttony,' who single-handedly destroyed an ancient kingdom named after her in just one week.
Even the founder of the Belhart Empire, who subjugated the witch, couldn't destroy this staff and merely sealed it.
The Archmage appointment ceremony was ultimately a ritual to feed it mana to quench its thirst and reinforce the seal to prevent rampage.
How cruel, Karian thought bitterly with a wry smile.
Those lacking mana control weren't even allowed to touch it.
Mere contact would drain their mana and life force, turning them into mummies.
In fact, several unqualified Archmage candidates had perished in this process.
Moreover, this verification was the Belhart Empire's imperial warning to mages.
Don't crave power.
Excessive ambition brings ruin.
A faint red mist seeped from the box's tiny gaps—ssss.
It looked like a parched snake flicking its tongue.
Voracious hunger.
Karian felt a strange kinship gazing at the red mist.
"You're hungry for mana too, huh."
Like me.
His bitter voice echoed through the room.
He was congenitally mana-incompatible.
His body lacked the very organs to hold mana.
It wasn't just inability to use magic.
The natural mana in the atmosphere—a blessing to all humanity—was a deadly poison to Karian, scorching his lungs and melting his organs.
A wretched life where even breathing shaved away his lifespan.
Most mana-incompatible individuals died before twenty.
Yet Karian, as an imperial prince, had clung to this futile life into his mid-twenties.
Thanks to artifacts protecting his body and barriers around his residence.
Still, he couldn't fully block mana and was dying bit by bit.
Wonder if I'll make thirty. Might breathe my last before the ailing emperor.
The fierce throne competition stemmed from his uncertain fate as the eldest.
Karian felt responsible for this.
"I'll preside over the ceremony as planned."
Thus, as long as his body allowed, he would fulfill his duties as First Prince.
"Your Highness, please reconsider. Approaching the unsealed Arche up close will surely..."
"The moment someone other than me stands there, the already precarious throne race will intensify."
Karian steadied his trembling hands and adjusted his attire.
He had to sacrifice some of his remaining time to maintain order.
"Fortunately, the Mage Tower Lord is coming herself this time. She's agreed to watch over me."
"But..."
"Worry about me no more."
Karian looked down at the chained box.
"I'm more..."
His eyes darkened deeply.
"...concerned about the child who'll face the ceremony at dawn."
Lunaris Evermoon, was it?
Only sixteen, he'd heard.
A once-in-history genius, sure, but facing a witch's cherished staff from centuries ago in an ancient era.
It might have weakened over time, but still.
It seemed too harsh a trial for a teenage girl.
"I suspect the Mage Tower didn't verify her properly."
Blinded by the 'youngest' title, they were burdening this frail girl too heavily—he couldn't shake the thought.
The red mist swirling from the box's crevices grew thicker.
Come to think of it, the last Archmage ceremony was over a decade ago.
Could that young girl truly sate this thing's ravenous hunger?