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Chapter 23
“Alright then, little sage. Come here.”
Dunken grabbed both ends of the cloth sling and spread it wide.
Arileti hurried over and buried herself snugly inside it.
“Who’s going to carry you on the way back?”
“Uncle Dung.”
“Aww, okay then. Let’s go with Uncle!”
Wrapped up tight in the sling, Arileti clung to Dunken’s back like a beetle.
Glen looked slightly put out.
“My ride’s not comfortable enough for you, Teacher?”
“Mm-hm.”
“How heartless. And you keep calling me Young Lord, too.”
Glen poked Arileti’s cheek, which was squished against Dunken’s back.
“Anyway, thanks to you, Teacher, we came to buy food and ended up making money instead.”
“The important part hasn’t even started yet.”
All they’d done was reclaim money that had been unfairly taken from them.
And money disappears once you spend it.
What they needed was a source of income that would never run dry.
The ore veins of Hezite lay in the Colden Mountains, but the money stream was in the Free Commercial City of Kaspel.
Conclusion: their next target was Kaspel.
If the rumors spread well enough, customers would come flooding into Hezite within a month—no need for them to go there personally.
And among them, that person would likely be included.
The faint smile that had touched Arileti’s face faded into solemnity.
‘But it’s too soon to relax.’
How could life offer only sweetness?
If you’ve tasted honey, you must also be prepared to swallow bitterness.
They had opened the flow of money for now. While waiting for word to spread that the Hezite territory was a gold mine, there was something else to deal with.
‘By now, news that Leon Bodafeti has gone missing must have reached the capital.’
The House of Hezite still lacked the strength to confront the capital’s powerful elites—not military might, but political influence.
It would take years to repair the territory and restore the dignity of the Margrave’s title with the money they earned. Until then, they needed a way to avoid the Empress’s scrutiny.
‘And the increasing monster activity across the territory keeps bothering me…’
The fact that species native to beyond the Colden Mountains were descending to the foothills near the territory wasn’t something to welcome.
It was a classic precursor to a monster wave.
‘The moment I came to Hezite, the future changed. Things won’t unfold exactly as they did before.’
So if the worst possibility forming in her mind became reality…
‘Will I have to go through it once and return?’
At times like this, she deeply regretted that her power was “Regression,” not “Foresight.”
Sages with foresight could see the future in their dreams, they said…
But she had never met another sage in her previous life. Likely she wouldn’t this time either. In the end, she would have to rely on herself.
“Young Lord.”
“Yes, my adorable Teacher?”
“When we get back, Uncle Tom will have caught lots of monsters, right?”
“Are you hungry?”
“Mm.”
She wasn’t sure why asking about monsters turned into being asked if she was hungry.
But once they returned, Arileti decided she would nourish herself first.
‘Who knows when I’ll have to use my power again.’
It wouldn’t do to collapse in front of them after using her ability.
It would happen someday—but not now.
She hated being hurt, but she hated hurting others just as much.
Glen immediately nudged his horse forward.
“Let’s hurry. Kids shouldn’t go hungry even for a moment.”
“Mm.”
The warmer wind brushed against Arileti’s ears. After days of running around the Nemar territory, drowsiness crept over her.
“Hey, Young Lord. Don’t worry too much.”
“Hm?”
“There are still four dolls left.”
At least I can keep you from being taken advantage of.
As long as my power reaches… though who knows how much time I have left.
Glen raised his brows in surprise, then smiled—bright and radiant.
Swinging her short legs, Arileti urged the group on.
“Let’s go home.”
Arileti had called Hezite “home”…
Glen suppressed the soft smile threatening to spread and answered solemnly,
“I will escort you swiftly and safely, Master.”
5. Foresight
The capital of the Bertel Empire, Delfor.
In Delfor, the eastern Golden Palace was the first to receive the morning sun. Among its buildings, second only to the main palace in splendor, the Empress’s Palace received news from the north.
“Sir Bodafeti is missing?”
A crack seemed to form on the smooth forehead of Empress Laureline.
She was a remarkable beauty, with bright reddish-gold hair and light brown eyes.
“There were more than twenty men in the guerrilla unit he led. Not a single one returned alive? Was the Gringen Gorge searched thoroughly?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. We sent men even below the gorge, but the terrain is extremely treacherous…”
Gringen Gorge, the passage toward the polar regions in the north, was covered in snow year-round.
The ceaseless snowfall concealed all traces of battle—blood and bodies alike. Not a single corpse, friend or foe, was recovered.
“The final objective was to sever the Gringen Bridge and block the route into Hezite territory. Yet the bridge remains intact.”
“Then they must have slipped away like rats. They’ve likely hidden within their own domain.”
The Empress clicked her tongue softly.
Hezite, which had quietly guarded the border for decades, had suddenly approached the Third Prince—irritating enough. That they had failed to uproot them was worse.
‘If they’ve sensed our interference, this will grow complicated…’
Though the Bertel Empire was said to be in a brilliant golden age, its inner workings were a tangled mess.
Pull the wrong thread, and you’d trip over it.
The reason was obvious.
The Emperor was in his mid-thirties. It had been over fifteen years since his marriage, yet no Crown Prince had been designated.
The Bertel Empire had three princes.
The First Prince, Albert, born of the current Empress, Laureline.
The Second Prince, Lucius, born of the deceased former Empress.
And the Third Prince, Rascian, born of the Emperor’s favored concubine.
The root of all problems was that none of them were unquestionably legitimate heirs.
Laureline had originally been the daughter of a provincial noble who bought his title with money. At eighteen, she came to the capital for her debut and caught the Emperor’s eye. Once scorned as his mistress, her life changed entirely after she bore his son.
At the time, the Emperor and Empress had long remained childless. The Emperor rejoiced at Laureline’s childbirth and named her son a prince.
But two years later, the Empress—thought to be barren—unexpectedly gave birth to a boy.
He had green eyes, not the imperial family’s red, and bore no resemblance to the Emperor.
Still, as the Empress’s son, he was named Second Prince.
Weakened by childbirth, the Empress died within a year—but not before shrewdly betrothing her son to the only daughter of Duke Pembroke, one of the empire’s most powerful figures.
Thus the court split: those supporting Laureline and her son, and those backing the Second Prince under Duke Pembroke’s banner.
The shadow over the imperial succession began then.
But it didn’t end there.
The year after the Empress’s death, when the empire’s elites were clearly divided between the First and Second Princes, the cry of another newborn echoed through the imperial palace.
Another boy.
Absurdly, the woman who bore the Emperor’s third son had been the late Empress’s personal maid.
When that fact became known, the entire palace fell silent.
Even if the sovereign of the empire was shameless, this was…
The Emperor, who doted on his young concubine, named the child Third Prince despite Empress Laureline’s opposition.
“Did I not acknowledge Albert as a prince? Both are sons of concubines. I cannot discriminate against Rascian. I am a fair man.”
“…Your boundless benevolence in all directions truly befits the parent of a great empire.”
“I was thinking the same. In any case, do your best, Empress. I am most curious which of my three sons will one day inherit this throne.”
With the Emperor himself declaring such things, the struggle for succession in the Bertel imperial family had long been inevitable.
Still, the Third Prince had not been much of a concern.
His mother had died early, and the child was raised alone in a remote northern annex palace. It was easy enough to keep watch and prune him quietly.
If only the Young Lord of Hezite, who came to the capital last month, had not secretly visited that annex palace.
Next.
