To Lupert Grand Duke's Territory
The pressure from the Yosrahim Empire began bearing down on the Lupert Grand Duke's household. It was only natural, considering my letter of accusation had reached my uncle the emperor, who was already wary of the grand duke.
The empire's first move was to order the disbandment of the army that Lupert Grand Duke had assembled. They demanded he return to his forces from before raising a million-strong host. But Lupert Grand Duke rejected it outright, citing the orc horde's threat as justification, and even escalated by recruiting mercenaries en masse, sharpening his horns against them.
At that point, the Yosrahim Emperor's suspicions reached their peak, and he commanded Lupert Grand Duke to appear in the capital immediately—a final warning. Yet the grand duke didn't trot out his usual illness excuse, enraging my uncle the emperor.
It was the moment when the air grew thick with the scent of civil war.
That's when it started. Strange rumors spread like wildfire across the entire continent: Cloud Grandpa was dead.
Of course, conspiracy theories like that had floated around before, but this time was different. They claimed a grave had been found, that Grandpa had foreseen his own death and left a will—complete with specific, plausible circumstantial evidence.
In response, inquiries poured in from all over the continent, asking about Cloud Grandpa's well-being—since I was the only one by his side when he vanished.
Naturally, I told the truth. He went into hiding for training, I said.
But that only amplified the suspicions of his death. The idea that he'd discovered the key to becoming a Soul Master—something no human could possibly achieve—and vanished to pursue it sounded way too far-fetched.
That's my life for you. Everyone believes my lies, but no one buys the truth.
Damn. Where the hell did that stubborn old coot hole up? He won't come out.
Even with Cloud Grandpa around, the odds of this civil war breaking out were high. There was a Valkyrie named Itheria backing Lupert Grand Duke, after all.
But Itheria couldn't step out openly. Naturally, Cloud Grandpa's presence would be a massive threat to the Lupert Grand Duke's army.
But he wasn't showing up, so what could I do? I'd just have to handle it myself.
"Are you really going alone?"
Padilla approached me with a worried look as I packed my things.
"Gotta go solo. I told you before, right? Kara Kingdom has nothing to gain from getting involved in this civil war. If anything, it'll hurt us in all sorts of ways—especially diplomatically."
"But if you side with the emperor's forces, Kara Kingdom will be dragged into the war anyway. Let me send some of our elite troops with you."
I gave Padilla a baffled look.
"The emperor's forces? When did I say I was siding with them?"
"Pardon?"
"I'm joining Lupert Grand Duke's side."
Padilla's eyes went wide in confusion at my words.
"Grand Prince, are you joking?"
"No joke. Dead serious."
"But siding with Lupert Grand Duke would make you enemies with your family and friends."
"Yeah, probably."
"And you said he can't be allowed to win this war."
"Right."
"So why join him?"
I smirked, lifting one corner of my mouth.
"Padilla, know who the scariest enemy in the world is?"
"A strong one?"
"Nope."
"An internal traitor, then?"
"Nah."
"What, then?"
"Incompetent allies. No real counter for those. Strong enemies? Beat 'em if you're good. Traitors? Root 'em out. But useless allies? You're screwed."
I was about to revert to my past life's self—a total washout general who lost every battle. I'd done it plenty before, so I was damn good at it. I was a professional loser.
"But you could always get fired for losing."
"Not if I make it impossible."
"How?"
"Simple. Reveal who I am. Then they can't just cut me loose, no matter how much I lose. I'm Karl Grand Duke's son and the emperor's own nephew. How do they ditch someone like me on their side?"
Padilla looked horrified.
"But you're the Grand Prince of Depravity."
"They've got Itheria. That 'depravity' label sticking to me? One oracle from her to the Central Church wipes it clean. Means nothing. Hell, might as well shake it off while I'm at it."
My bloodline would be priceless propaganda for Lupert Grand Duke—an unmatched justification for war.
One word from me, and the civil war's legitimacy skyrockets. If his army wins, he could prop me up as a puppet emperor. It'd pressure my father's Karl Grand Duke forces, too. And as a Master swordsman, I'd be damn useful in combat alone.
Would Lupert Grand Duke pass up a card like me? Especially with Itheria able to erase my bad rep.
No way in hell.
To him, I'm a gem caked in mud. He can't ignore me.
"Sure, but what then? Lose the war, and you'll be branded a traitor again, on the run once more."
"I'll just die again. So if rumors hit that I'm dead, don't freak out. It's the signal I'll be back soon."
"Pardon...?"
"It's a thing. Anyway, I'm off."
I patted the dazed Padilla on the back and slung my bag over my shoulder.
"I'll drop by whenever I get a break. Take care."
And so, on a sweltering summer day, I left Kara behind.
The civil war hadn't broken out yet, but I needed to hustle if I wanted a spot in Lupert's camp.
***
Lupert Castle sat at the heart of the continent's southwest coast. It had distinct seasons, but hugging the sea made its summers far cooler than the inland.
I'd come almost right up to the castle gates when I hurriedly suppressed my internal mana flow, leaking only low-Master level aura. If word got out I was a Mind Master, it'd expose me as the White Mask too. Had to hide my power.
The world was big, but two Mind Masters my age? That'd raise eyebrows for sure.
Damn this life. I came ready to reveal myself, and now I gotta hide instead.
I inspected my shabby, filthy clothes closely. I was Yan, grand prince disguised as a poor mercenary. Couldn't have gear or items that didn't fit the role.
"Perfect."
Self-check done, I joined the long line at the gates.
But the entry checks were brutally thorough. Soldiers rifled through carts, pockets—everything.
Seemed like they were weeding out spies.
In war, spies were the biggest threat. A good one could swing the whole battle. That's why great generals always used them well.
My turn came, and a knight approached warily. My look screamed "mercenary," and spies loved that disguise.
"Mercenary?"
"Yeah."
"Name?"
I handed over the mercenary tag from a guy I'd killed.
"Philip from Billiant Kingdom."
The knight checked it and handed it back.
"Here to enlist?"
"Yep."
"Experience?"
"Fought in the Robros-Kara war. Hunted plenty of monsters too."
The knight eyed me with interest.
Lots of mercs out there, but few with big-war experience. The world had been peaceful.
"Any mercenary band?"
"Nah. Mine got wiped in that war. A few buddies survived, but we didn't click anymore, so I go solo now."
"Why split?"
Nosy knight. I played along.
"We fought."
"Over what?"
"Money. What else?"
He nodded.
"Got it. Proceed to inspection."
"Sure."
After a full-body search, I finally got in.
The city vibe was tense as hell. Speakers harangued crowds on independence's justice everywhere, but most commoners just pretended to cheer—total apathy. Independence or not, nobles squeezed them dry. Better no war at all.
Great cause means squat without vision.
Independence was appealing—who wouldn't want a sovereign nation free from foreign boots?
But people don't move on ideals alone. They need tangible gains guaranteed.
That's why Kara beat Robros last time.
I'd promoted eager fighters, rewarded heroes with more status. Those new nobles fought like hell for their Kara and crushed Robros.
Slaves don't fight bandits. Owners defend their homes.
But some get swept up in ideals. Plenty of Lupert locals, charmed by rebel leaders, lined up at enlistment offices.
"Crush the invader Yosrahim Empire!"
"Long live Lupert Kingdom! Long live His Majesty King Lupert!"
I passed the shouting propagandist and entered the recruitment hall.
No one's at this one.
Unlike regular enlistment, the mercenary table was dead empty.
Mercs apparently didn't fancy Lupert's odds.
Sure, lone wolves or small bands might contract via guilds, explaining the emptiness.
Bullshit.
Merc guilds never backed rebels against states. So rebels had to recruit direct.
I sat, and an elderly recruiter beamed.
"Welcome, merc?"
"Yes."
"Which band?"
I repeated my gate story. He looked impressed.
"Whoa, war vet. Sword skills?"
"Handle mana."
His eyes bugged. Mana swordsman? At least high knight level.
"Mana? For real?"
"Yep."
I drew Yoj, infused a bit. Mana glowed softly along the blade; he nodded furiously.
"Nice. Got it."
I circled my finger.
"Pay?"
"Mana grade: 50-leaf gold signing bonus, 20 monthly, 30 combat pay. Free housing, servant too."
Generous even for mana swordsman. If I were real merc, this war could've made me rich. Where'd Lupert get the cash?
Double the usual, at least. Mercs'll swarm soon.
Even if they thought he'd lose, fat pay made it tempting. Mercs wagered lives for coin.
"Fair. Show me the contract."
"You read?"
"Yeah."
"Ho, better than most knights. Fancy knighthood? Lupert opens doors for talent like you."
"Nah. Just the money."
I shut it down. Fugitive me preferred hit-and-run over settling.
"Why? Knight gets land."
"Pass. Cash over dirt. Why farm my ass off? Money buys it all, right?"
He looked regretful.
"If you insist. Here's the contract. Read and sign."
As I skimmed, he fetched a fat coin pouch—signing bonus.
I signed quick, handed it back.
"Done."
He checked, tossed the pouch.
"Coin's yours. Count it."
Fifty gold leaves. I pocketed it snug.
"Spot on."
"Wait here. Soldier'll fetch you soon."
"Got it."
A soldier came shortly; I followed to the mercenary barracks.
Infiltration: success. Now, leak my identity by "accident," and phase one complete.