Chapter 78

Finding the Spirit Stone (1)

Fleur

Unusually, the head of that family had been a young woman.
During the upheaval of the last revolution, she had lost her husband first.
Yet the revolutionary faction never felt the void left by his death.
For Lady Fleur had been an even greater spirit master than her husband.

In the end, the revolutionaries overthrew the old regime.
They declared citizenship and established a constitution.
Lady Fleur entered the Constitutional Assembly as a member.
At that point, she was no longer called Lady Fleur, but Countess Fleur.

At first, when the constitutional monarchy was introduced, the citizens believed the world they had dreamed of had finally arrived.
It was an illusion.

The radical faction, composed mainly of citizens and workers, desired fundamental social change.
The result was the execution of the king and extreme market policies.
The leaders of the radicals cried out for justice and insisted that anyone opposing the revolution must be eliminated.
The masses supported them—
after all, the overwhelming majority were citizens and laborers.

The moderates, largely nobles and wealthy merchants, fractured into several groups.
Some joined the radicals.
Some, disgusted, left the Republic.
Some rebelled against the radicals.
And others, wishing to preserve the revolution, quietly accepted being purged.

Lady Fleur belonged to the last group.

The spirit she had contracted with would have been powerful enough to defend her, to rebel, or to escape.
But she did none of those things.
She calmly offered her neck.

According to one account, after the Countess’s head fell beneath the guillotine, rain poured over the Republic’s capital, Belouard, for three days straight.

Bards composed songs, calling it the tears of the spirits.

That was all that History of Spirits recorded about the Fleur family.
It was something Isaac had read long ago, when he had confined himself underground.

But even before that, Isaac had once encountered something related to the Fleur family.

If his memory served him right, during the upcoming competition, one of the vassals would use a spirit stone passed down through the Fleur family.
And he would use it in the worst possible way.

***

“I didn’t know what it was either.”

The Marquis spoke with an uncomfortable expression to Isaac, who had come to see him.
Unaware that Isaac was the one responsible for overturning Bern City, the Marquis looked openly annoyed.

“Some time ago, an inspector from Baldarin came along with the leader of Akanlaufer. Back then… it wasn’t about opposing your father. There was trouble in the sewage system, and we needed Akanlaufer’s mages. At the time, that leader said he felt a strange aura and became curious about what was inside my vault.”

“And the spirit stone was in there?”
“It was. He offered to do anything—get me anything—if I handed over that stone.”
“Why didn’t you give it to him?”
“At the time, Weissman was far more useful than Akanlaufer. And cheaper to handle, too.”

The Marquis spoke while swirling brandy in a transparent glass.
Lately, he couldn’t last a moment without alcohol.
Bern City, which had once seemed firmly within his grasp, now felt impossibly distant.
Along with the wealth he had once held.

The Count had been periodically sending him expensive brandy.
It was a warning—
a reminder that the Count was always watching.

Whether it was fortunate or unfortunate, the brandy suited the Marquis’s taste perfectly.

“Where is the spirit stone now?”
“With the leader of Akanlaufer. Damn idiots. They couldn’t even arrive on time and got robbed by mere bandits, and now they won’t even think of returning it. Well… not like I have any way to retaliate now.”

The Marquis muttered in complaint.
It hadn’t been bandits who stopped Akanlaufer—it had been Isaac.
But Isaac chose to remain silent.

“Do you know anything about this leader?”
“Nothing. He always wore a mask.”
“Any guesses?”
“Judging by his voice, he wasn’t young. But from the way he walked, he wasn’t old either.”
“And where he went?”
“No idea.”

The Marquis shook his head.

“You truly don’t know?”
“Even if I did, what could you possibly do?”

The Marquis narrowed his eyes at Isaac.

“I’ll persuade him.”
“How?”
“Somehow. It’s my father’s order. And I made a promise to Violet. Goethe does not break its promises.”
“Hah. What an honorable family—for a bunch of runaways.”

Clack—

The Marquis set his glass down with force.

“What about that traitorous bitch?”
“I’m not sure who you mean.”
“Who else? The whore leading those runaways.”
“If you mean Violet, she’s doing well.”
“…That damn bitch.”

The Marquis hurled the glass at the wall.

Crash—!

It shattered.
The remaining liquor splattered against the wallpaper and trickled down, shards scattering across the room.

“It seems you really don’t know anything. Then I’ll take my leave.”

As if he didn’t care whether Isaac stayed or left, the Marquis slumped back into his chair.

“Ah, when are you returning to the royal court?”
Isaac paused and asked.

“What does it matter to you?”
“I understand the situation to some extent. I am Goethe’s eldest son, after all.”
“The Count has quite a loose tongue.”
“It’s called learning. Do you have confidence in persuading the royal family?”

Persuading the royal family meant having the shield tax imposed on Goethe lifted, and gaining permission to strengthen its military and conduct trade.
And for that, there was someone he absolutely had to deal with.

“That’s not something you need to worry about.”
“…Do you have confidence in persuading the Second Prince?”

Bang—!

The Marquis slammed the desk.

“Get out.”

“I hope you return alive, Marquis. Goethe’s prosperity depends on you persuading the royal family. Tell the Second Prince that Goethe is in your grasp. It might ease his mind a little.”

“I said get out!”

The Marquis shot to his feet, glaring at Isaac.

“Then I’ll be going.”

Isaac gave a small nod and left the council hall office.
Even after he stepped out completely, the Marquis’s furious breathing could still be heard.

‘Your misfortune is only beginning, Marquis.’

Isaac’s expression hardened as he exited the hall.
Though he had persuaded his father to keep the Marquis alive,
Isaac himself also wanted him dead.
He was being kept alive only because he was still useful.

“Young master.”

The guards bowed their heads upon seeing Isaac.
Their expressions clearly wished he would just pass by quietly.
At the estate, he was a troublemaker.
In the city, he was a mana bomb that could go off at any moment.

Recently, Isaac had been visiting the council hall frequently to discuss city planning with Venders.
Of course, no one welcomed him.
Even Venders, the more he spoke with Isaac, the more he realized just how difficult and cunning this boy was.

“Mayor Venders, I’m here.”

“…Haa.”

Seeing Isaac barge into the office without knocking, Venders let out a sigh.
Sitting on a chair stacked with cushions, he rubbed his forehead as if burdened with headaches.
The cushions were piled high enough to rise above the armrests—
otherwise, Venders couldn’t even rest his elbows on the desk.

“What is it this time? If it’s about Azer iron ore and blacksmiths, I already told you—it will take at least two more months.”
“Can’t that be sped up a little?”
“No, no, no, no!”

Venders replied, his voice rising higher with each repetition.

Being nagged day after day, there was no way Venders could respond calmly anymore.

“I said it’s impossible! Impossible! Haven’t you heard what happened just the other day!? One hundred and thirteen bodies! Over a hundred members of great families and gangs were wiped out overnight! Who do you think has to deal with the aftermath? Who do you think faces the families’ accusations!?”

“You do. You’re the mayor.”

Isaac answered casually.

“Fikel’s son is dead. Half of the Karadon family is dead, and the other half crippled. Do you see this? These are all petitions filled with resentment and fury they’ve sent. If we want to restore order, they’re demanding we purge every last Weissman!”

Venders grabbed the pile of cotton paper and parchment stacked on his desk and shook them.

“Really? That’s strange. From what I heard, Weissman didn’t swing a single sword.”
“You think I don’t know Violet’s abilities? What on earth were you thinking, doing something like that?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

As Venders lowered his voice, Isaac did the same, replying with feigned innocence.

“This is not something to take lightly. If word of this spreads to other cities, no major merchants will come to Bern City. The City Alliance might even demand an explanation.”
“That’s where you’re mistaken, Mayor Venders.”

Isaac placed both hands on the desk and looked down at him.

“You think this city grew big, that merchants settled here and started acting like nobles, that they even dared to covet the territory of a border lord… you think all of that is your ability and authority. You think you’re something special.”

“I’m speaking realistically. Yes, without the black market, neither we nor Bern City would have grown this far. And if Goethe hadn’t been checked by the royal family, such a black market wouldn’t have developed in the first place. But do you know how many wealthy figures and officials from nearby cities have taken bribes from these so-called great families? You may be able to ignore us, but you can’t ignore them.”

“That’s a misunderstanding too.”
“…What?”

Venders asked, unable to follow.

“Do you really think Goethe can’t handle that much?”
“…Hmm.”
“So if something like that happens, don’t panic—just hand it all over to my father.”
“To the Count? If I do that, I might lose my head. If unnecessary conflict escalates into a localized war, I won’t be able to take responsibility.”
“It’s the opposite.”
“What do you mean…?”
“What do you think? He’s been waiting for someone to cross the line.”

Goethe’s standing had weakened over the past hundred years, and its reputation had steadily declined.
Most of its wars had been concentrated at the northern fortress, Winterband.
The fortress itself lay beyond treacherous mountains and cliffside paths, so few people knew what truly happened there—and even fewer returned alive.

Those who did return rarely spoke of it.
The experiences there were nightmares better left buried.

And so, Goethe’s renown gradually faded.
There were no stories to uphold its prestige.
The Count had wanted it that way—
drawing attention would only invite more scrutiny from the royal family.

Thus, Goethe was now regarded as little more than a fading border house, barely maintaining its lineage.
Even its status as an Elector had become effectively meaningless,
since the kingdom’s throne itself was influenced by the empire.

“So when that happens, push back. Don’t sit there trembling in your seat—make others want the position you’re sitting in.”
“…You think I don’t want that?”

Venders sighed as he mulled over Isaac’s words.

“If you’re worried about Violet, don’t be. Goethe will protect her.”

“….”

Venders fell silent, his thoughts exposed.
To him, Violet was like a daughter.
And yet, among the hundred-plus corpses, half clearly bore the marks of spirit attacks—Violet’s doing.
The other half had died like Varis—killed by some unknown projectile.

Either way, since Violet was involved, the matter had to be buried quietly.

“By the way… looks like your hair’s thinning.”
Isaac abruptly changed the subject.

“Is that all you see? My beard’s falling out too.”
“Oh, really? It’s admirable, sacrificing yourself for the city’s recovery. Keep working harder. That way I can get Azer mountain iron ore and blacksmiths even a day sooner. I need to sow rye in Vinfelt before autumn.”
“Is that why you came all the way here? Just to give me a headache?”

Venders narrowed his eyes.

“Oh, right. I had something to ask.”
“What is it this time?”
“You have the black market ledgers from the great families, right?”
“…I do.”

Venders scratched his chin.
At this point, there was nothing left to hide.

“Then you must also have records of collateral branches and vassals who used the black market.”
“That should be the case. Only major transactions were recorded.”
“Can I see them now?”
“Do you have to see them right now? I think I already explained why I’m busy.”
“I do.”

“Damn it.”

Venders groaned as he practically jumped out of his chair.

“Damn it. I should replace this desk and chair.”

Grumbling, he walked over to the fireplace and reached inside.
Since it was still summer, the fireplace was empty.

Rrrr—

“Oh.”

As Venders manipulated something, the bookshelf beside the fireplace slid to the side.
But the mechanism seemed poorly maintained—it stopped halfway, leaving a gap too narrow for a person to pass.

“Damn faulty secret device. I spent a fortune on this, and it keeps acting up. Ugh—aren’t you going to help?”

Venders struggled to push the shelf.

“Hmm.”

Isaac casually pushed it with one hand.

Thud.
The bookshelf slammed fully against the wall in an instant—
thanks to the strength he had gained from the Rune Stone of the Wolf King.

“Huff… with that kind of strength, you should become a knight. Didn’t you say you can’t use magic because of your condition?”
“That’s the plan.”

The space behind the hidden door wasn’t large.
It had to remain discreet, so there were limits.
But even within that narrow room, ledgers were packed tightly from wall to wall.

“These are records from the past ten years.”

Venders said.

“…That’s a lot.”