Chapter 276
Chapter 276
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 276
Chapter Title: The Council (2)
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The only truth in the name "Asias High Council" was "Asias." They weren't a council, and they sure as hell weren't "high."
At least, that's what Feizashi thought.
They were nothing more than a militant group that levitated their entire mage tower with powerful magic from the War of the Heavens era, wandering the world to study spells. There were no citizens to warrant establishing a council, and their meetings were anything but democratic.
"The council mages are searching for something! I heard they read the stars or something...?"
"Probably just rumors."
Crossing the vast breadbasket plains beyond Paltennoia's western gate, Fernandez muttered while gripping the reins. Rene ignored him completely and grinned.
"Isn't it romantic? Scholars roaming the world in pursuit of truth... noble mages..."
"Most Wildcasts begging on the streets are scholars roaming the world in pursuit of truth. What makes them special is their symbolism and raw power."
"You're such a romantic killer..."
Far in the distance, still hazy, stood the tower at the horizon's end—like a still life of mountain and field.
Too far to make out details, but its silhouette alone hinted at its immense scale.
It was a tower in the truest sense. Not some monument, but a sprawling complex with living quarters and research wings.
Practically the size of a castle, they said its "movements" were a spectacular sight.
"The people of Paltennoia are thrilled. Makes sense—Aseias High Council rarely ventures beyond the southern provinces. Their last visit to the capital? Let's see... five hundred years ago?"
"Could be the Marquis of Arnan pulling strings."
"Elector Trua? How could that old fox sway the Asias High Council?"
"Well, didn't Tremure snag the Imperial Philainneil University?"
"That was because the Emperor forgave the university's debts! You think the Marquis of Arnan has that kind of money?"
The most prominent pro-Imperial house in the Empire's south was House Arnan, the Marquisate of Trua—better known as Elector Trua.
The Empire was divided into nine provinces: eight "electorates" ruled by the elector houses, and the Emperor's direct domain, Paltennoia.
The vast southern floodplains of Paltennoia belonged to Marquis Arnan's electorate.
And the region where the Asias High Council had taken root was in that direction too.
*Officially, it's a jungle search. Whatever—who knows?*
For the past five hundred years, investigating ancient ruins slumbering in the southern rainforests had been the High Council's go-to excuse.
Normally, five hundred years of digging with nothing to show means there's nothing there...
"But even a mobile structure like that—if it's wandered only within one province for ages, it can't avoid ties to the local lord. For such folk to suddenly visit the capital... in times like these, whether it's good news or bad remains to be seen."
Fernandez gazed at the stone tower looming larger ahead, reins in hand.
It was massive. The size of a fortress. He had no idea what principle allowed an entire castle to move, but ancient magic was just that—magic.
"Could it be bad news?"
"Judging purely by results, this will definitely be good news."
"Huh?"
"Anyone can make the inferences I have. Part of Marquis Arnan's prestige stems from the High Council's presence in his domain."
That was why the Emperor sponsored Philainneil University too. A powerful mage collective lent authority just by existing.
"So the other electors—and nobles attuned to outlander affairs—will fixate on the link between Asias and Marquis Arnan. Regardless of the parties' true motives. It'll look that way."
"And now the High Council enters the capital unannounced?"
"Exactly."
What intentions Asias truly held. Whether Marquis Arnan schemed behind the scenes. None of that showed to outsiders. Others would hear the outcome and speculate on the details.
If the leading heir to the throne, Duke Carverie, had kept the noble houses in disarray with his prolonged political silence, this could be a fine countermove.
It was the click of a chess piece in his mind. One move. Pawn advances.
"The other nobles will suspect an alliance between you and Marquis Arnan. Some might buy into rumors of discord between Asias and Arnan. Others could guess the High Council is bowing to the Empire's next Emperor."
Rumors had no substance, but their spread and intricacy gave them weight. The more convoluted and conspiratorial, the stronger they grew.
Unlike truth, rumors were beasts that fattened themselves. Those who held their reins wielded near-infinite power at times.
"No matter how the story spins, it all bolsters your power."
"See? I made the right choice."
"Hm?"
"You. Proposing marriage to you. Sometimes I wonder—if you just up and left, allied with another noble, could I even stand against you?"
Prince Robert had said something similar during the war.
Pernin. True name: Fernandez Cerned. Secretly known as Beitasser's inquisitor and "saint." But among foreign intelligence agencies, he was far better known by another name.
[Untouchable].
His movements were unpredictable. Yet everything he'd done had woven international influence, all events linking organically into a single flow.
From first step to final play, it was all meticulously planned.
Could anyone pull that off?
Maybe coincidence. Maybe overhype. But from a position of "inferring truth from results," even surface appearances marked him as untouchable.
It wasn't personal might or scheming depth. His unpredictability itself was the issue. For intel agencies to abandon prediction was tantamount to "stay the hell away."
"Foolish thoughts."
Fernandez chuckled, eyeing the fortress gates now looming huge.
"Why? Because I'm useful?"
"Because I am. My value's high, so trade with the highest bidder, no?"
He grinned playfully at Rene's wounded, pouting glare.
"Did I ask such a high price?"
"The Imperial Secretary isn't bought with coin."
"So our relationship's just a transaction..."
"Of course. And the currency is favor. What better deal is there?"
Give favor, collect favor. What idealer trade?
Fernandez shrugged, and Rene snapped her head up, eyes glistening. She hesitated, then whispered softly.
"You don't say that to just anyone, right?"
"Hm?"
"People might misunderstand... say it only to me. I won't misunderstand!"
I... I'm married to you! Rene blurted it out, then dashed through the gates.
Fernandez watched her go, then tugged the reins.
"Misunderstand?"
*-Getting craftier, Fernandez.*
* * *
After that, Fernandez was dragged around by Rene, sightseeing every nook and cranny.
Asias's tower. Tower, they called it—but it was practically a small city. Towering outer walls, bustling markets within, residential alleys. And deep inside the inner walls, the colossal central tower.
Every district divided with ruler-like precision. Meaning: a planned city built around the tower. Little more than a vegetable patch for its upkeep.
*-And they strut around calling this a council? Ha, revolting.*
Too flawed to call it an institution for city admin or decisions. The city existed for the council. Feizashi snickered bitterly.
He was right. More like a monarchy than a council. But that was standard across civilized provinces. Mockable, but no grave sin warranting real condemnation.
"It's so intricate!"
"Indeed."
"...What are you even looking at? The trinkets?"
"Ah. Right."
Rene oohed at market stall baubles; Fernandez admired the city's design philosophy. She pouted briefly, then moved on.
The tour was peaceful.
No chance of ambush in the High Council's yard. Any group targeting Duke Carverie would've been spotted by the Imperial Ironsides anyway.
*'Gotta meet Robert soonish.'*
*-Ironsides are practically yours now. Naturally.*
If Rene became Emperor—a big if—the Ironsides under Robert would naturally pass to her in the succession. And given the Imperial Secretary's role overseeing palace affairs, it was highly likely to become Fernandez's power base.
Heresy and cults via Heretica and Malefica. Politics via Ironsides. A lavish spy network. At minimum, from central continent to the east, vast swaths under his gaze.
*'Rose high.'*
*-This is 'high'? Still a ways to go.*
'Whatever, it's go—hm?'
*-Tch.*
Trailing Rene, Fernandez's senses caught an odd presence. His hand moved first. Lightning-fast, he snatched the unfamiliar hand dipping into his pocket.
"Urk!"
"Thief?"
Gutsy enough to deserve an evisceration. Reaching for Duke Carverie's aide? Chopping the wrist off would've been legally fine.
But Fernandez froze.
On the hooded man's neck, glinting as he rummaged, hung something.
"High Council?"
"...Ngh."
The Asias High Council emblem dangled from the man's neck. He yanked his hand free awkwardly and mumbled, embarrassed.
"Loses the mystique."
"What the...? A councilor picking pockets?"
"Picking pockets! I was just delivering a letter!"
"...Letter?"
The man opened his clenched fist. Fernandez had assumed sleight-of-hand theft, but it held a sealed note.
*-Pocket insertion! That's the intel agency's legendary secret technique from the rumors! You open your pouch later, clueless, and find a chilling warning note!*
*'Shut it. Not the time for jokes.'*
Fernandez eyed the man dubiously; he composed himself and whispered gravely.
"The Grand Chairman wishes to meet you, Lord Wildcast."
"...Wildcast?"
"Feizashi Wildcast. That's what I was told. My mistake if not?"
Fernandez chuckled at that, glancing at Rene striding ahead. The man caught the look and added,
"Duke Carverie will receive a formal invitation too. But His Excellency wants a private word with you."
"Then I'll make time."
Fernandez nodded readily. Perfect, actually. Hearing the reason for their capital visit straight from the Chairman. And forging some alliance? Nothing better.
*'Feizashi, huh. Where'd I hear that name?*
*-Playing interesting games. Ha ha.*