"Well, that was unexpected. Sorry, without my golems, it's hard to predict who might be nearby."
Roland spoke while glancing at the tea house in the distance. He could tell that the people they had just encountered had gone up to the third floor and were probably discussing the same incident.
"Oh no, that's fine. Don't worry about it. Even I didn't expect my older brother to get here this quickly."
Arthur and Roland walked through the area, both deep in thought about what had just happened. It seemed that Ivan had arrived not long after they did. Roland could confirm this by examining the residual energy left behind by the teleportation gate used by Ivan and his knights. His mana senses allowed him to gauge the residue's deterioration, which declined at a predictable rate. Based on this, he estimated that Ivan had arrived roughly an hour after they did, a detail that carried its own importance.
"I suppose this is a good thing, and perhaps an opportunity."
Roland’s voice trailed off as he looked through his visor. The people who had been following them were still present, but to his surprise, some had stayed behind at the tea house. He couldn't be certain yet, but there was a chance they were keeping an eye on Ivan Valerian as well. This Valerian son had a reputation for being a bit of a brute, and his larger-than-average build, combined with his earlier emotional outburst, only confirmed it.
"An opportunity for what?"
Arthur glanced at Roland, unsure what he meant.
"For you to take his position. He’s in a vulnerable state right now. He suffered heavy losses during that cultist attack and hasn’t had time to recover."
"I see. That might be true."
While they hadn’t been sure when they first arrived, it now seemed that Ivan’s status was slipping while Arthur’s was beginning to rise. The timing of the gate transfer confirmed it. Normally, if Ivan’s standing were higher, he would have arrived the following day. Although he was the third son, it now appeared that even the fourth son, Tybalt Valerian, had surpassed him. Arthur was still ranked last, but there was a real possibility he could overtake Ivan and claim the fourth position.
“Perhaps this gathering was meant to be a test of some sort for you and the others.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. My father doesn’t usually go out of his way to do such things.”
Arthur replied. He implied that Duke Alexander took a more hands-off approach to raising his children and would not orchestrate artificial battlegrounds for them to earn merit. Roland, however, remained unconvinced. The entire culling event felt like one of those carefully arranged trials, and after examining the underground tunnels, he was certain it had been manufactured to some degree, though not by the duke.
That part was the most worrisome of all, and he still wasn’t sure whether he should bring it up with the duke. Arthur already knew about his examination and was planning to use the discovery to earn favor with his father, but neither of them knew the right moment to reveal it. For now, the tunnels beneath the island remained a secret known only to them, a secret that could prove highly profitable and greatly strengthen their cause.
He had already constructed one teleportation gate to the super dungeon without anyone noticing, and an underground railway system was now a real possibility. Working with Sebastian, he had completed the necessary measurements, and thanks to the size of the tunnels and the mana-reinforced walls, the structure was stable enough to proceed. Their only real concern was the group involved in the culling. Those individuals also knew about the tunnels and could become a threat later on.
"Well, shall we take things slowly? Let's get through these two days without any more incidents."
Arthur spoke as they walked through the central district of the castle grounds. They visited several places, including an alchemical perfumery known for its scents infused with subtle enchantments. The shop was fascinating and filled with noblewomen browsing the displays. It was part of a larger section that featured boutiques and high-end clothing stores. Even from the outside, the prices appeared astronomical, making it clear that only the wealthiest could afford to shop there.
Afterward, they came across a magical store unlike those found in Albrook or other cities. In the places they came from, shops typically sold enchantments designed for combat or monster hunting. Here, however, the magic was tailored to elevate the lifestyle of nobility.
The stores had grand names like ‘The Arcane Whispering Silk.’ Inside, they found floating fabrics and dresses that changed color and pattern according to the customer's wishes. Some pieces even grew or shrank to better fit the wearer’s body shape, a fascinating display that actually caught Roland’s attention. He was skilled in working with metal and creating various alloys, but he had never explored the world of magical threads in much detail.
"Interested? Should we take a few samples back home?"
Arthur spoke up when he noticed Roland silently staring. Even though Roland wore a helmet, Arthur had long since learned how to read his moods. If something captured his attention, he would fix his gaze on it without saying a word, and Arthur had become familiar with that subtle habit.
"We could probably find similar threads through other channels at half the cost."
"Haha, so that’s what you were worried about?"
Although Roland had been earning a considerable amount of money recently, he still disliked unnecessary spending. Arthur, on the other hand, saw this as the perfect opportunity to indulge. It was true that displaying their wealth in such prestigious locations could help spread favorable rumors. If people believed they could afford to shop in high-end boutiques, their reputations would naturally grow.
"How may we serve you, my lord?"
"I wish to buy a suit and perhaps something for my knight here, maybe some new stylish boots or a new cape to fit the occasion?"
Arthur smiled and gestured toward a surprised Roland. A man resembling a butler approached and began examining them from every angle, as if measuring them with his eyes alone.
"I understand. I believe I have just the thing for both of you. Please follow me."
Roland wasn’t too pleased with this turn of events, but standing in the open where people were watching them, he couldn't refuse Arthur’s order. The young noble had a playful look on his face, and soon Roland was forced to choose a new cape for himself, one made from shape-shifting threads.
As the sun dipped lower on the horizon, the group emerged from the shopping district with their arms full of elegantly wrapped parcels. Roland's new cape shimmered subtly in the fading light, shifting between deep navy and a faint emerald depending on the angle. He still looked slightly uncomfortable, especially with Arthur grinning triumphantly beside him.
"See? You almost look fashionable now."
"A High Knight Commander doesn’t need to look fashionable."
"That’s where you're wrong, my friend. A knight’s appearance reflects on their master, and you wouldn't want to make a duke’s son look bad, would you?"
"Calling yourself a duke’s son now? What happened to being proud of being a bastard?"
Roland felt mildly irritated after the hours they had spent wandering through shops. Arthur had bought a large quantity of clothes and magical trinkets, at least giving something to everyone in the group. Mary received a bracelet, and all the knights were given new capes, with his own designed to be more elaborate to emphasize his higher rank.
"That’s just how we nobles are. We can’t be trusted, my friend."
“Yeah, I know, don’t remind me…”
Roland wanted to roll his eyes at the response. Although they spoke freely, he had been using magic to block their voices from being overheard. Speaking to a duke’s son so casually could raise suspicion, but they could always claim they were joking and that Arthur had ordered everything.
“So, can we visit some other shops now?”
Arthur asked, but Roland shook his head.
"The sun is setting. We should head back for now. Tomorrow, let’s analyze your other brothers."
"Agreed."
Arthur replied. They had already decided on their plan for the next day. They now knew the locations of all the teleportation gates and where each of Arthur’s three brothers would be arriving. The best approach would be to blend in with the nobles who would be welcoming them and observe their abilities from a safe distance.
“Welcome back, my lord. Would you like dinner to be served?”
“Yes, that would be splendid.”
When they returned, they were greeted by the temporary servants assigned to them. The meal was impressive, but they did not begin eating until Mary had finished checking for potential toxins. Only then did they settle in to enjoy it.
Arthur took his place at the head of the table with the composed demeanor of someone long accustomed to pretending he belonged in such a seat. Roland sat nearby, his eyes occasionally sweeping the room. They were still under surveillance from the outside, but he had ensured that their conversation could not be overheard.
“So, what did you think of Ivan’s companion?”
“His companion? The veiled lady? Was there something unusual?”
As they ate, Roland finally brought up the woman who had accompanied the third brother. Although her face was hidden, that did little to fool someone with Roland’s skills or any other tier three class holder. She was undeniably beautiful, that much was certain, but there was something about her that made him uneasy, something he couldn’t quite define.
“Did she leave such an impression? Don’t worry, my friend. Your secret is safe with me.”
“Secret?”
“Yes, yes. I won’t tell your wife.”
Arthur laughed again, and Roland began to wonder if he was the only one taking the situation seriously. Mary simply shook her head as though the joking annoyed her, though she didn’t seem to notice anything particularly troubling.
‘Maybe I’m just overthinking this…’
What truly unsettled him were the layers of status concealment spells cast on the woman. It would take time for him to decipher them, and even then, despite his deep research into such magic, he had little confidence in breaking through. It was clear she was hiding something. But as the presumed spouse of Ivan Valerian, Roland knew he would have no opportunity to approach her and find out what it was.
The feeling of uncertainty lingered even after the large dinner. Although the food was well prepared and he had little to criticize, he still believed his wife was the better cook. Eventually, the servants cleared the table and left, and it was time for them to settle in for the night. Roland hoped the next three days would pass without incident, but things rarely unfolded according to his wishes. This visit would likely be no exception.
******
The clouds covered the entire sky, hiding every star from view. In the choking darkness, they came. A ripple in the air near Arthur’s balcony was the only warning, too faint for any ordinary guard to notice. The shimmer vanished as five shadowy figures stepped from the void, cloaked in smoke and silence. Their faces were hidden behind masks with narrow slits for eyes, and their breaths were muffled by some kind of enchantment.
One of the assassins raised his dagger and traced a small circle on the window. A perfectly round hole appeared. He reached for a small vial on his belt, removed the cork with a soft click, and tossed the container into Arthur’s chambers. Violet smoke burst from it, spreading quickly across the floor. The sleeping enchantment filled the room in moments, drifting fast and low. Even mages with active mana barriers would succumb to its effects. The leader gave a quick hand signal, and they moved as one.
The door opened without resistance. They slipped inside like wraiths, spreading into a wide formation. One approached the bed first, though he carried no weapon. In his hands were a rope and a large sack marked with enchantments. He nodded to the man beside him as they confirmed their target seemed to be sleeping under the covers. But when the blanket was pulled back, what they found was anything but expected.
The assassin had no time to react. A wooden arm shot up and struck him across the face, knocking him into a nearby chair. The figure beneath the sheets was revealed, not a man and not even alive. It was a wooden puppet, crafted in the likeness of the noble who was supposed to be sleeping there.
It was not what they expected. The creature sprang forward and hurled itself at them. It was fast, but not fast enough. The leader reacted quickly, drawing his dagger and coating it in an aura-like energy. Unlike the usual crimson hue, this one glowed with a deep violet light.
The wooden monster lunged with a clumsy punch. The assassin dodged easily and countered with a rapid series of precise strikes, slicing the creature apart. The entire exchange was silent. They all stared at the fallen foe, but more threats were already closing in. It was clear now that they had walked into a trap. Escape was likely their best option.
"Where do you think you're going?"
A voice echoed from the balcony they had entered through. There stood a woman holding one of their team members in a single hand. It was the lookout they had stationed below. He hung limp in her grasp, blood pouring from a deep wound in his throat. He was clearly dead.
The remaining assassins drew their daggers, ready to engage. As they moved, a strange magnetic force swept through the room and slammed them to the ground. From the far corner, a figure stepped forward. He wore shining knightly armor and radiated powerful magic.
The assassins lay stunned. It was now clear that this man was Wayland, the High Knight Commander from Albrook. He had been in the room all along. They had known he possessed magical abilities, but this display went far beyond anything they had anticipated.
Things looked grim, but they were not ready to give up. The leader managed to resist the magical binding to some extent and moved his hand toward an object resembling a thorn-covered medallion. He pricked his finger, letting blood drip into the artifact. The tool responded immediately, glowing with a strange light. In an instant, the crushing magical pressure disappeared. The spell had been canceled.
"Kill them both. Leave no witnesses!"
The item was a rare artifact that nullified all mana in the area and corroded any new spells cast nearby. It was a perfect countermeasure against mages. Two of the assassins lunged at the woman by the balcony while the other three charged at the armored man standing before them. Their blades shimmered with deep violet energy, casting a sharp glow across the entire room. As tier-three class holders, their true power could no longer be concealed. With superior numbers and overwhelming force, they were confident in victory.
The leader remained silent as he watched his two allies launch their attack. He prepared to finish off the man known as Wayland. Although Wayland was a mage, his physical strength surpassed that of many Knight Commanders. He was not someone to underestimate, but they did not believe he would pose a problem. At this range and without the use of spells, that should have been impossible.
A violet blade moved toward his throat and another toward his heart, but just as they were about to connect, a magical reaction erupted. Instead of striking flesh, the weapons coated in aura were repelled by a thick veil of mana. The situation grew worse as the assassination techniques triggered a backlash, causing their wrists to bleed and their bones to crack under the force of the rebound.
No sound escaped the room, but the leader sensed that something had gone wrong. He looked to the side where his other two allies had jumped, only to see them struggling to land a single strike against the woman. Wielding two blades of her own, she countered every attack with perfect precision, and wounds had already begun to appear on their bodies.
The magic that was supposed to be disabled had started to reemerge. It surged back rapidly, as if the mage they were fighting had already analyzed the enchanted item and rendered it useless within seconds. The pressure of magic settled on him again, heavier than before. Now, instead of thinking about victory or escape, the leader began to wonder if he would leave this place alive.
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