Round 26: Conspiracy

Singh snapped his fingers. “How do you feel?”
It was only then that 47 could hear sounds from outside—turns out the cage had always been soundproof, allowing sound to enter but not exit.
47 lowered his head to look at his body. He was in big trouble; neither the Fusion Cannon nor the aircraft had enough materials to build anything anymore. “Aside from everything else, this weight-loss effect is indeed remarkable.”
The body and strength he had gained in Hell had been completely washed away, and the power of that Forging God scroll also became faint, almost imperceptible. Only the core energy remaining in his body seemed to be gradually gathering, slowly forming a spark without any physical basis.
47 began to worry that this trip might end up being a loss.
“I originally wanted to get some information from you about the Loom Magic Notes—this way it might be safer and more reliable. But it seems we don’t have much time left.” Singh walked to the bottom of the magic cage and looked up at 47. “And I doubt you’d help a mage who sent you to Hell.”
“You’re right!” 47 took a few steps inside the magic cage, his posture now more like that of a steel skeleton. “I’m just here to retrieve what you stole and give you a good beating.”
“Heh, what an interesting construct.” Kiskain, still sitting in his chair, couldn’t help but laugh. Construct warriors didn’t know what death was, let alone fear it, but he had never seen a construct with such a distinct personality before. “Leave the rest to you. I’m going back to my room to get some sleep.”
It seemed he hadn’t realized he had already slept for almost a day.
As Kiskain left, all the other mages also left the room, leaving only Singh and 47 in the vast laboratory.
Singh turned and walked in the opposite direction of the iron door. 47, along with the magic cage, floated after him. With a wave of his hand, an entire stone wall silently rose, revealing a huge void. A wide but dark stone staircase seemed to lead straight down to hell.
“Are you planning to come to Hell with me this time? Good. The guys over there are very welcoming.”
Singh ignored him and stepped onto the stone stairs.

The revelry in Vatan City continued unabated. Perhaps people weren’t celebrating some so-called victory, but rather the people of Agus, who had long been oppressed by the burden of war, finally found a reason to vent their fury. The noble district and the mage district in the north of the city were still manageable, but the streets of the southern civilian district were filled with drunkards and prostitutes soliciting customers. Every few dozen meters, there were groups of people fighting. Colorful paper and fireworks debris littered the ground, trampled by countless feet. The already muddy roads became even more filthy, like sewage ditches. Yet none of this stopped people from indulging in their pleasures that night—crying, laughing, shouting, making noise; people were everywhere, and some areas were so crowded that it was impossible to move through.

So when Sayers and Hunter finally reached the dock, they were out of breath and drenched in sweat.

“Is Commander Dagulas crazy? To send us to the dock to greet guests under these circumstances—who would come to Vatan City in the middle of the night just to cause trouble?” Hunter, carrying a bundle, was so tired he could barely stand straight.

Sayers unscrewed the lid of the wine flask and brought it to his mouth, but his rapid breathing caused him to choke and he began coughing nonstop.

“Damn it! We grew up in the South District too—have we ever seen anything like this? I almost got pushed into the sea just now!” Even the bear mage had such an experience, showing just how chaotic Vatan City was that day.

“It was you who pushed them into the sea! Because of you, we were chased by those thugs until we almost vomited blood!” Hunter calmed down a bit and looked around. The dock was almost empty, with two large ships and hundreds of small boats quietly moored in the harbor. Apart from the sound of waves and the distant noise, almost no other sounds could be heard.

“If it weren’t for the mission and my disabled leg, I would have thrown them all into the sea to feed the fish!” Sayers could finally drink some wine. He tilted his head back and drained the flask in one gulp: “They’re either crazy or drunk—daring to chase even mages…”

“Hey, look…”

Sayers followed Hunter’s finger and saw a small boat approaching from the dark sea. Soon, the flag of Agus’ overseas colony, Maztica, fluttering on the boat became clearer. There seemed to be a figure standing at the bow, and soon they noticed Sayers and Hunter, waving at them.

“It’s definitely a messenger from Maztica!” Hunter also waved at the people on the boat.

“Why can’t we see the large ships?” Sayers pulled Hunter’s hand away and examined the figures on the boat carefully. His face turned pale suddenly: “That’s not right! Let’s go!”

Without hesitation, Sayers pulled Hunter away from the dock, but the people on the boat suddenly disappeared and reappeared right in front of Sayers.

“Is this how you treat your superiors?”

“Commander Morriel!?” Hunter was so surprised his tongue stuck out.

Indeed, facing this former commander who had already been declared a rebel, the only way to avoid offending either side was to stay away quickly. Sayers’ face turned pale as he said nothing, inwardly cursing Daguras countless times for deceiving them into thinking he was there to pick up Maztica’s messenger. He had already had some doubts, but he really didn’t expect someone who was under a strict arrest order from the Agus Empire’s Supreme Council to actually dare to storm into Vatan City.

“Sayers, I’m not someone who disregards human life like Daguras, but you should also understand what consequences there will be if you disobey me in this situation.” Moriel’s voice was soft and low, but to Sayers, it sounded like thunder: “And I won’t force you to do anything too difficult. If possible, helping me is the only way to save your lives.”

Isn’t that nonsense? Not helping you means dying right away; helping you means dying later. Sayers opened his mouth but couldn’t say anything. His usually proud political sensitivity and adaptability seemed to have vanished entirely.

“Commander Moriel, have you really betrayed Agus and the Supreme Council?” Hunter asked beside him in a puzzled tone. Sayers gave him a disdainful look—what use was talking about this now? “I believe Commander Moriel is a good person. Could there be some misunderstanding?”

How utterly foolish.

Moriel blinked, also looking at Hunter in surprise.

“I’m not originally from Agus, and besides, the Council doesn’t necessarily represent justice.” Moriel didn’t want to explain further, but she seemed moved by Hunter’s words as well: “Never mind. I won’t force you. Give me that bundle. You’d better find a place to hide…”

“Alright, Commander Moriel. Although Hunter might not have noticed, the reason we survived in the forest back then was largely because you cast a protective spell on us from behind. Anyway, we’ll follow your orders!” Sayers sighed inwardly. It seemed his good luck had truly run out.

Moriel looked at the two pitiful low-level mages in front of her—people she had only known for a short time and had even less contact with, despite them being considered intermediate mages in name—reached out to take the bundle from Hunter’s hands, and took out a brand-new low-level mage robe: “Then wait a moment. I’ll go change my clothes.”

The Tower of Seven Sins loomed high in the night sky, appearing even more magnificent and filled with an unknown majesty.

The mages who usually frequented it had been allowed to go to the carnival, so the place seemed deserted. The guards, unable to join the festivities in the streets, all looked downcast. Being a guard was worse than staying in the countryside farming. They had rushed to Tanwa to join the army hoping not to spend their lives as despised peasants, only to end up as soldiers who couldn’t exert any authority, with nothing to do and having to endure abuse from their superiors and other soldiers. Thinking of this made Carson so depressed that he wanted to give up on himself.

Carson was an honest man, an illiterate farmer who, in his youth, couldn’t stand being bullied by the landowner. In a fit of anger, he beat the landowner’s steward and ran away, thinking that joining the army would free him from the landowner’s tyranny. But due to his straightforward nature and inability to flatter his superiors, he remained a lowly guard for years, never even rising to the rank of guard captain. As one officer after another replaced each other, he never got promoted. Even Robert, who joined two years after him, became a deputy captain and today even berated Carson arrogantly while canceling his leave. In fact, Carson knew Robert just wanted to go home to see his ugly fiancée.

Damn it, maybe even the idiot Subby would end up above him someday. He glared at Subby, who was slumped against the stone steps, snoozing with his fat body. That would truly be the end of the world. But he already had a plan.

It was just a little more money needed. If he saved for another two years, he’d have enough to buy a small farm. If he saved even more, he could buy a few more sheep. He had already chosen a pasture with lush grass, perfect for raising sheep. Once he had enough money, he wouldn’t have to deal with those damned officers anymore. Who would care about a guard? Even if he ran away, it wouldn’t matter much.

He imagined returning to his hometown in military uniform, bringing his parents to his farm, and before leaving, giving that damned fat landowner a lesson. He wondered if Martha was still waiting for him. If so, he’d take her with him. That would be truly happy and satisfying.

“Idiot Subby! Stop dozing off and hand me that damn pipe!”

Carson was lost in his dreams of the future and didn’t notice several shadows approaching quietly.

“Hey, Subby!” Carson stepped forward and kicked Subby’s fat butt. “All you know how to do is sleep, you lazy pig!”

Subby didn’t respond, but he did react—rolling down the steps.

Carson wanted to scold him some more, but when he looked closely, he was shocked. As Subby rolled, he suddenly split into two parts. His body got stuck on the steps, but his head kept rolling toward the square like a rabbit.

Carson quickly turned to call for help from the guards nearby, but no sound came out of his mouth. All he saw was a headless body falling—undoubtedly his own.

Carson’s head and his small dreams crashed onto the hard stone ground, not even stirring a speck of dust.

O’Sullivan hurried along a deserted side road. When he turned a corner, a carriage suddenly appeared in front of him, blocking his path. The O’Sullivan family crest was clearly printed on the carriage door—it was the same frame they used. But the coachman had a cold expression, one O’Sullivan didn’t recognize.

The door opened, and the old butler got off the carriage, bowing respectfully to gesture for him to board.

O’Sullivan got on the carriage suspiciously, and the butler followed, knocking on the roof. The carriage set off again.

O’Sullivan looked at Nauf across from him and suddenly felt as if this was the first time he had been this close to someone he had spent over a decade with daily. As a servant, Nauf, who not only never shared a carriage or a dining table with him but also rarely stood so close to him in normal times, was now clearly visible—his cheeks covered with wrinkles like old bark. Though he still appeared submissive, O’Sullivan knew very well that from now on he could no longer treat him as an ordinary butler.

“Where to?” The order clearly came from His Majesty the Emperor. The question was what the order entailed.

“To His Majesty’s bedroom,” Nauf replied promptly, respectfully and cautiously. Suddenly, O’Sullivan felt an indescribable annoyance. Having reached this point, why still act like a servant?

O’Sullivan stopped asking further. Although the emperor’s order disrupted his plans and he didn’t know what had happened to require a late visit to the emperor’s bedroom, he figured everything would become clear once he saw the emperor. Talking more was pointless; it was better to wait.

Yet, it wasn’t just His Majesty the Emperor waiting for O’Sullivan.

By the time O’Sullivan arrived at the emperor’s bedroom, the Finance Minister Kurit, the Foreign Minister Spencerth, and the Military Minister Darner were already there. To O’Sullivan’s surprise, the Grand Mage of the Council, Kond, was also present. With himself included, he had no idea what the emperor intended by gathering these people.

Soon, O’Sullivan got his answer.

“I have decided to besiege the Supreme Council tonight and take full control of the Agus Mage Union!” Upon hearing Stanley III’s words, everyone was shocked.

At first, everyone stared in astonishment at the resolute emperor, then their gaze shifted to Mage Kond, who, with a smiling face and his goat beard stroked, showed no sign of surprise.

“Mage Kond is on the royal side—please be assured!” the emperor added, but this still didn’t seem to reassure everyone. To plan to besiege the Council after being its Grand Mage—was he crazy?

“Undoubtedly, Mage Singh is powerful, but there are also many dissenting voices within the Council,” Kond said, losing his smile. “He is obsessed with magical research and has ignored the interests of the Council itself, as well as those of the Agus Empire. It’s beyond doubt that the Council needs to be cleaned up and reorganized.”

It was beyond doubt that he wanted to seize the position of Supreme Council President, but that didn’t matter. With a common goal, they were comrades, regardless of their motives.

“But please forgive me for speaking bluntly—now is not the right time. We’re not yet certain of victory!” O’Sullivan grew impatient. It was a family tradition in his family to never fight a battle without confidence.

“Flikina has already discovered our plans. Fortunately, Mage Kond has killed her, but it’s only a matter of time before the Council finds out. That’s why we must act first! Lord Darner?” The emperor turned to his military minister, who was also his brother-in-law.

“Yes, Your Majesty! The Agus Empire’s imperial guards are all in position, ready to await your orders at any moment!” Darnah snapped his heels together, still maintaining a military demeanor.
“The enemy are mages; it will be difficult to gain the upper hand relying solely on the army,” Spencer voiced his concerns.
“Count O’Sullivan?” The emperor turned his gaze toward O’Sullivan.
O’Sullivan glanced at the others. It was clear that none of them had known about the others’ involvement in this plan before. They all obeyed the emperor’s orders but couldn’t communicate with each other. It seemed the emperor had not only planned this for a long time to reclaim the Council’s power but had also acted with great caution and thoroughness to ensure success.
“The members of the Red Robe Mage Society have gathered somewhere in the Tanori Plains, but due to the suddenness of this situation, we haven’t yet devised a plan against them.” At this point, O’Sullivan had no choice but to reveal everything, though he concealed certain agreements he had already reached with the Red Robe Mage Society: “I was originally going to contact them tonight.”
“The Red Robe Mage Society? Be careful—you might be inviting trouble!” Kurit, known for his integrity and fairness, spoke up. He rarely spoke in any situation, but his words were always on point.
“There’s no need to worry about that. Even the archmages have their own opinions, and the Council isn’t monolithic,” Kant said, seemingly proud of himself, though he didn’t realize his own words trapped him as well. The emperor’s choice of people was indeed accurate—such people could be controlled: “The real concern are the other archmages. But if we act swiftly to take control of the situation, I believe it won’t be difficult to take over the Council.”
In other words, if he were to take over, it would go very smoothly.
“So, we don’t need to rely too much on the power of the Red Robe Mages. That way, they won’t have any chance,” the emperor continued. “Of course, to be thorough, we should still utilize every available resource. Count O’Sullivan, contact the Red Robe Mages right away—tonight. The rest should start immediately as well. That’s it!”
O’Sullivan sighed slightly.
“Your Majesty, could my father be released from prison?” After everyone else left, O’Sullivan deliberately fell behind a bit, but Mage Kant was still by the emperor’s side.
“Everything will be resolved after tonight!” Kant replied on behalf of the emperor without hesitation.
O’Sullivan glanced at the two of them, bowed, and left.
“Is it really okay not to tell him?” A hint of concern flashed in the emperor’s eyes.
“It’s unavoidable, Your Majesty. This is a critical time. Telling him would only add to his burden.” Kant turned around and bowed slightly: “Then I must go as well. Please wait for good news from me, Your Majesty!”
As the figures of the others disappeared at the other end of the hall, Stanley III’s already furrowed brows tightened even more. The outcome of war was unpredictable. He wasn’t as optimistic as Kant. Though the plan was thorough, what if it failed…
Tonight would be a very long night.