Did You Choose the Wrong Profession?
"……Tell me, have you chosen the wrong line of work?"
The next day, in Crown Prince Cantares's office.
That was the first thing Cantares said after hearing the full report.
Arendt tilted his head insolently.
"Why do you ask?"
"No reason. It's just that con artist seems to suit you far better than knight does."
And yet Cantares spoke with a completely straight face, without a hint of playfulness.
Standing beside him, Laios pressed a hand to his brow and hung his head low, unmoving for a long while. The moment he'd learned that every recent headache plaguing him had been the handiwork of the Crown Prince and the apprentice knight conspiring together, betrayal had consumed him.
"Regardless… well, the results were good, so that's something. Now, what's to be done with Count Stadler?"
"He'll be paying His Highness a visit in person before long. As for last night's events, of course, he's sworn to silence. Surely Your Highness wouldn't humiliate him by punishing the Count or demanding he take responsibility?"
"I won't. Not that I'd have the chance even if I wanted to—you'd never sit still for it."
"Exactly."
Arendt replied with breathtaking shamelessness.
*That insufferable brat.*
Cantares shot him a sideways glare.
"Still, it's a significant catch. Stadler was the last person I'd have suspected. He's always been so quiet—I never even imagined he harbored thoughts like that."
"Desires that have been suppressed for years tend to be far more frightening when they finally erupt all at once."
"Do you have to talk like you know everything?"
"I'd say I know a bit more about it than Your Highness does."
"You disrespectful little—"
The curse came back instantly, but Arendt, naturally, couldn't have cared less.
It wasn't even a lie. After all, the man who'd clung stubbornly to a penniless stage career and lived in poverty until it landed him in this predicament was none other than himself.
"In any case, leave the Count to me. As long as I don't neglect him, he won't betray us."
"In other words, keep feeding him. Understood."
Cantares sank deep into his chair and crossed his arms.
"By the way… you're telling me they fused the mana of different species? Is that even possible?"
"It sounds absurd, I know, but I don't think it's impossible. I've seen something similar in the ancient records."
It was Zereon, silent until now, who finally spoke. Three pairs of eyes naturally turned to him.
"While searching the old archives under His Highness's orders, I came across a passage to that effect. At the time, I simply passed over it."
Zereon tilted his head, as if groping through his memory.
"It was one of the stages in creating ghouls."
"Ghouls? Weren't those the stuff of legend?"
"I dismissed it as pure nonsense too, so I moved right along… but that much stayed with me from what I skimmed. As far as I could tell, it was one of the forbidden arts."
Zereon gave a brief answer to Cantares's puzzled question.
"An artificial monster, they say, made from the corpses of ordinary humans—or of animals, or other monsters. The method involves stitching together the bodies of multiple creatures and then breathing life into the result."
Pausing there for a moment, Zereon furrowed his brow slightly.
"What that era called 'life force' would be one and the same with mana. Since the body is an amalgamation of multiple corpses, the life force lingering in each of them would have to be fully fused as well… That was the gist of it."
"Ah, so *that's* what they meant by merging mana."
Cantares nodded, satisfied.
"Even hearing it in broad strokes, it sounds like utter madness. How do you make something dead move again?"
"That's likely why it was written off as old wives' tales in the first place."
"And yet the first stage of that process has already succeeded, hasn't it?"
It was Laios who suddenly spoke up.
The Knight Commander's face was grave as he continued, slowly and deliberately.
"We mustn't jump to conclusions. They wouldn't have attempted something like that without grounds—chasing mere legend alone. We may need to prepare for the possibility."
"Prepare? For what?"
"That's right."
Laios nodded with utter seriousness. Cantares, who had asked half in exasperation, found himself at a loss, his mouth opening and closing several times.
Then Laios pressed on with force.
"Without Arendt, we might never have identified the enemy's existence at all. Given the situation, I believe we can afford to dismiss nothing—no matter how outlandish."
Spoken like a true protagonist, every word landed exactly where it should.
It was good news for Arendt, too. Now he wouldn't have to warn them about the danger of ghouls with his own mouth.
*We can talk about it lightly now.*
But if Count Stadler truly crossed over to the other side, several cities burning to ash would be a conservative estimate.
Arendt smoothly changed the subject.
"Oh, right. What happened with Marquis Grig? I heard Aide Zereon tailed him afterward."
"Yes. He exchanged a few words of pleasantries with the nobles who'd accompanied him, and then they each boarded their carriages and left the capital at once."
Zereon nodded as he answered.
"However, the moment Marquis Grig arrived home, I observed him dispatching a messenger hawk."
"A messenger hawk?"
When Arendt asked with a slight frown, Zereon continued.
"Judging by its flight path, it was headed beyond the capital. It was too dark to pursue."
"A hawk's range wouldn't be all that far, then."
Sending a messenger hawk at such a late hour strongly suggested an urgent report to someone about the situation.
The recipient would almost certainly be someone tied to the 'Garden.'
Cantares appeared to share the thought; he stroked his jaw and murmured.
"So the other party is Count Stadler? Or perhaps a third party we haven't seen at the hall."
"Quite possibly. A period of surveillance should tell us. The Marquis didn't even seem to realize he was the target."
As Arendt chimed in, Cantares shot him a weary, fed-up look.
"For the best. Surveillance shouldn't be too difficult."
"Why not?"
"Because thanks to you, the Marquis won't be able to show his face in high society for the foreseeable future."
Zereon let out an awkward smile.
"Still, yesterday was a close call. If it had actually escalated into outright violence, things would have gotten very complicated."
"Weren't you planning for that from the start? You were perfectly willing to take a few punches, weren't you?"
"What a shame it turned out that way. Played right, we could've buried him in society for good."
The smirk on Arendt's shrugging face was insufferable enough to make anyone want to land just one punch on it.
Cantares let out a dry, humorless laugh.
"So that's why you dragged Guildmaster Neumann along. To provoke the Marquis *and* set him up as your shield."
"Didn't it work rather well? Besides, I didn't spread any rumors that weren't true."
Arendt drew himself up proudly and answered with all the shamelessness he could muster.
While Arendt busied himself gleefully raking at the Marquis's insides, Guildmaster Neumann had faithfully played the role assigned to him. The results had been spectacular.
As expectations for Neumann's new merchant guild soared, Arendt's rock-bottom stock had likewise shot straight up.
It was only natural. Neumann, who stood at the very center of the story, had talked everyone's ear off about the debt of gratitude he owed Arendt.
Hiring assassins out of a private grudge was scandal enough on its own. The Marquis's wealth and power had kept anyone from voicing complaints aloud, but that alone had already shredded his credibility to ribbons.
And on top of that, if he had struck a knight in front of everyone—
Worse still, if that knight was Arendt von Eckhart, the man who had saved the East Vault—
Marquis Grig would have found himself dodging pointed fingers for a good long while. His business ventures would have taken a considerable hit as well.
Cantares twisted the corner of his mouth.
"Congratulations. You've made quite the metamorphosis—from traitor, to hero who saved the East Vault, to first investor of the Neumann Merchant Guild."
"That wasn't a metamorphosis. I merely wore a mask for a short while. Rest assured, I'll be returning to my true role soon enough—royal pain in the neck of the Imperial 3rd Knight Order, traitor, suspected criminal, insolent brat."
Waving his hands in dismissal, Arendt looked the Crown Prince squarely in the eye.
"In any case, I believe I've delivered everything you asked of me. I'd say this turned out splendidly, wouldn't you? We even landed a most unexpected big fish."
"We did. Though I never imagined it would go this far."
Once again, the results were undeniable.
That much was an indisputable fact.
They had successfully flushed out the Marquis's followers, and as a bonus, secured Count Stadler besides.
Furthermore, they had confirmed that the Broken Heart's Sword stood behind everything.
Cantares let out a low groan.
"Regardless… the Broken Heart's Sword. We have to assume those bastards have already infiltrated the capital itself. Finding people we can trust won't be easy either."
One misstep, and the rot would consume them from within.
Laios lowered his eyes, as if to suppress a tangle of emotions.
With each of them lost in their own thoughts, a heavy silence settled over the office for a long moment.
It was Arendt's calm voice that broke it.
"Then we start with the people in this room."
"What?"
"Finding trustworthy people. We narrow the circle gradually, weeding as we go. And in the end, what we'll have is a faction wholly devoted to you and you alone, Your Highness."
As he said it, Arendt glanced sideways at Laios.
Though he addressed the Crown Prince, the person who truly needed to hear it was, unmistakably, that man.
Laios's expression settled into calm resolve.
"That is how it should be."
"Which means… for the moment, you lot are the best I've got when it comes to people I can trust and use as my own hands and feet."
Cantares slumped against his hand with an irritated sigh, and Arendt added a helpful follow-up.
"I believe everyone within the knight orders can be trusted as well. Some caution will be necessary, of course."
If Arendt had to name the two people he trusted most at this point in time, it would be Laios and Cantares.
Laios was the protagonist of the novel.
And Cantares was Laios's master—the man who wielded the imperial knight orders as his sword and stood against their enemies head-on.
*And then there's Arthur Norbert.*
Arthur was someone who should have died originally.
Which meant that, at the very least, the Broken Heart's Sword had not yet reached him.
And one more besides—Guildmaster Neumann.
Arendt's interference might yet bend the story. But for now, they were enough.
"For now, I'll send more spies to the Garden as it's being built. Additional watchers on Marquis Grig as well. And Count Stadler… honestly, he doesn't inspire much confidence, but I'll have to speak with him at least once."
"Will you be all right? Unlikely as it may be, the meeting itself could be a trap."
At Laios's worried words, Cantares grimaced.
"Arendt says he can handle it, so it'll probably be fine. That boy's temper may be beyond saving, but at this point, even I have to admit he has the talent for it."
"I can't tell if that's praise or an insult. Would you mind doing just one thing, though?"
Arendt's sullen voice followed.
"And, Your Highness—one thing I'm only saying in case you've forgotten. You haven't forgotten our promise, have you?"
"Promise? Ah—"
Cantares repeated his words for a moment, then nodded.
"Everything's already prepared. If you need it tonight, I'll hand it over on the spot."
"Now *that's* the best news I've heard all day. Isn't it, Commander?"
"Huh?"
Laios, suddenly brought into the conversation, asked in bewilderment.
Instead of explaining, Arendt simply curled his lips into that signature smile of his—enigmatic, or perhaps better described as sinister.
Naturally, Laios had no way of knowing.
What Cantares had promised to give Arendt in exchange for the havoc he'd wreaked at the banquet.