Chapter 24: Setting a Trap

Lying in the constantly rocking armchair, the elderly man in a loose nightgown stared blankly at the portrait above the fireplace, exhaustion lingering on his face for a long time. The crumpled letter was thrown into the fireplace, disappearing in an instant as the flames flared.

The Minister of Internal Affairs stood respectfully three meters behind the elderly man, motionless, waiting for his orders. It seemed His Majesty’s mood was not good. Ever since the orcs began launching large-scale attacks in the north earlier in the year, His Majesty’s mood had deteriorated significantly; he even engaged in hunting less often. When he came to the hunting lodge, he spent most of his time discussing tedious government affairs. His gray hair had lost its luster. Tez sighed inwardly—perhaps His Majesty had truly grown old.

“Tez, do you think this guy named Komer can take in 100,000 refugees? Can Caucasus accommodate them?” A somewhat deep voice, thick with a nasal tone, sounded as if the speaker had a cold.

“Your Majesty, to be honest, Caucasus simply doesn’t have the capacity to house 100,000 refugees. However, since it’s in the south, its winter climate is much milder than that of the north, allowing these refugees to survive the harsh winter better. In the north, I estimate that at least one-third of these refugees, lacking food, clothing, and shelter, will struggle to survive the winter. In Caucasus, perhaps just one tent could save them,” the Minister of Internal Affairs replied with his head bowed.

“Is that why you agreed to this plan?” The elderly man leaned his head back against the armchair’s cushion and closed his eyes.

“Your Majesty, not entirely. Although the lord of Caucasus is young, I can see he has great ambitions. What’s more, he’s at odds with Philip—he was exiled to Caucasus to die. It’s said that no one who has served as lord there has lived beyond a year. This time, he’s coming to recruit refugees, seemingly bypassing Philip and going straight to Versailles, which has displeased Philip greatly,” Tez replied with a smile, knowing his master would enjoy hearing such news.

Sure enough, the old man’s slightly open eyes lit up. “Oh? Then do you think this guy can stay safe in Caucasus?”

“Well, I dare not say that, but this guy is rather strange. I have an intuition that he’s not so simple—he might even be able to create miracles. I’ve heard that the merchants from the Barefoot Society are also involved with him, seemingly as partners,” said Duke Tez after a moment of hesitation.
“Hmm, so you mean you want to support him in accomplishing this?”
“Your Majesty, at the very least, it will keep Naples and Media from arguing. Since we’ve taken in refugees, they too must fulfill their obligations. If that guy can hold his ground in the Caucasus, even better—we can find a pawn in the south to hold Philip in check. If not, it won’t cost us anything. At least we’ll have provided a place for the refugees to settle, which will satisfy the people,” said Duke Tez shrugging nonchalantly. “But I really hope he can hold on. Philip and Zerin have become increasingly overbearing over the years. I’m worried that without a counterweight, if the kingdom continues to waste resources fighting the orcs in the north, it won’t be long before Your Majesty becomes a slave to those lords, who will use that to demand more privileges. The Utrecht Edict might have to be abolished.”
The old man let out a light snort and said nothing.
“Your Majesty, I’d also like to remind you that Prince Hoffman is getting too close to Philip’s daughter. I heard Prince Hoffman has proposed marriage to her. I wonder if Your Majesty and Queen are aware of this?” The Minister of Internal Affairs continued, ignoring his master’s displeasure.
“I’m aware. It’s a matter concerning their next generation. I don’t want to interfere,” said the old man, closing his eyes again.
“Your Majesty, to ensure the stability of the kingdom, I advise you to get involved and carefully weigh the pros and cons,” said the Minister of Internal Affairs firmly.
The Minister’s words once again plunged the room into silence. The dim sunlight filtered through the thin velvet curtains, casting long shadows of the warrior statue by the window. The axe held high by the statue created distorted shadows on the floor, and as the curtains moved, the statue seemed to come to life, its curves and lines as if suddenly infused with life under the sunlight.

The priest in purple, having just finished writing the letter, read it through again with satisfaction. Today’s gains were quite substantial—turns out a noble lord was actually a magician, possessing profound and mysterious dark magic. Though the man had hidden it well, and subsequent investigations revealed nothing unusual, Malon trusted his senses and intuition. This guy was highly suspicious; he surely hid some unspeakable secrets, perhaps even astonishing ones. A noble lord and a dark mage—these two identities seemed impossible to connect, yet here he was, encountering both.

He instructed his servant to deliver his letter to Marco, feeling much relieved. That guy had gotten involved with Kafli—should he warn Kafli? No, no need. Those merchants were profit-driven and wouldn’t listen to his unfounded advice. Only facts could prove anything.

“Master Mage!” came a guard’s call from outside.

“What is it?” Malon opened the door and raised his eyebrows. It was time for him to practice magic, and being disturbed was rather annoying.

“Someone has delivered a letter, requesting it be given to you personally,” the guard said, his simple face filled with respect, handing Malon an envelope with an elegant cover.

Surprised, Malon took the envelope and tore it open to reveal a piece of blank paper. “At dusk, 500 meters west of the birch forest fence. Anonymous,” he read aloud. He turned the back of the paper—no marks or symbols. Could it be some joke? But everyone in Versailles knew this person never joked. Or maybe it was some prank. Malon examined the envelope carefully. Though its cover was beautiful, it was just an ordinary art envelope available anywhere in gift shops—nothing special. The handwriting was exquisite, and there was even a faint fragrance on the signature, making it seem more like a girl’s handwriting. What was going on?

“Who sent it?” The surprise vanished quickly. Malon folded the signature and put it back in the envelope, then tucked it into his chest.

“It was handed over by the guards at the hunting lodge entrance. They say it was a middle-aged man in a gray cloak; they couldn’t see his face clearly,” the guard replied respectfully. In their eyes, mages were already very mysterious, and such special methods of communication were seen as another sign of their uniqueness. “Lord, is there any problem?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. It’s an old friend of mine. He likes to greet and arrange meetings in this way. I didn’t expect him to come to Versailles as well.” Melon didn’t want such a strange matter to cause a fuss. Before understanding the situation, he didn’t want to make a fuss.

The gate behind the birch forest was usually locked, as it led to His Majesty the King’s favorite hunting grounds. These royal hunting grounds were vast, covering over a hundred square kilometers, with rolling hills, extensive forests, and a large population of animals such as deer, muntjacs, and roe deer. Large animals like bears and wild boars also often appeared there. There was even a small lake in the forest, where many beasts liked to drink water; it was also a place where the King often went hunting.

A wooden fence separated the hunting grounds from the hunting lodge, running along the area between the birch forest and the mixed coniferous and broadleaf forests. The King had just gone hunting a few days ago, so there would be no more hunts in the near future. The gate of the fence was already closed, but this posed no obstacle to a magician.

Thick fallen leaves covered the gaps between the bushes and trees densely. Stepping on the dead branches and leaves produced creaking sounds, occasionally interrupted by a crisp snap as branches broke underfoot. From time to time, a faint rustling sound could be heard, indicating rabbits or doves moving through the bushes. The sensitive perception of the priest in purple robes was especially acute; even the breathing of the trees seemed to reach his senses unimpeded through the air and the ground.

He already sensed that someone was waiting for him at the designated location. He had a vague feeling that this strange meeting seemed connected to that odd lord from earlier that morning, but it was merely intuition. Perhaps only by meeting up could he truly understand the truth.

Although it was near Versailles, Melon remained very cautious. He wasn’t worried that the other party had any malicious intentions. For a magician of his level, his ability to sense danger was already quite advanced. It would be difficult for external threats to harm him. The common notion that magicians had little defense in close combat and could easily be killed by warriors and knights no longer applied to him. He could effortlessly cast various spells of different natures and scales—both offensive and defensive—in a short time. So he wasn’t too concerned about the other party choosing such a secluded place.

Even if the other party had malicious intentions, Malon would still have considerable confidence in dealing with them. He had absolute faith in his own strength—there were few people within the kingdom who could easily harm him, unless they made thorough preparations. As he approached the designated location, Malon’s keen senses scanned the area within a hundred meters. If there were any dangerous ambushes, he would be able to sense them easily. Within that range, there were only himself and one other person—no others.

This was a rare open space, surrounded by tall trees, with only this area forming a hollow space. Perhaps due to the exposed rocks, even shrubs were reluctant to grow here; only a few sparse ones were scattered in the gaps. The grayish-brown basalt rocks were quite striking, with jagged formations scattered everywhere. A tall, thin figure wrapped in a dark gray cloak stood with its back turned to him on a high rock. An indescribably eerie atmosphere filled the entire space, as if even the slightly warm sunlight lost its warmth.

Malon walked forward, calmly observing the figure whose head was completely covered. He could sense the heavy atmosphere, but he wasn’t overly afraid. Even if faced with hundreds of orcs charging wildly, he could remain calm. Now, facing this seemingly strange individual, he didn’t believe the other party could pull any tricks.

Seemingly hearing the footsteps of the priest in purple robes, the figure that had stood motionless finally turned around.

“It’s really you!” The priest in purple robes was taken aback, then his face showed an expression of realization as he nodded heavily. “It seems you had this planned all along.”