Cathedral third floor, study.
Bishop Gordon was rummaging back and forth between the bookshelves like a headless fly, his breathing heavy with agitation.
He clearly remembered confirming the hidden compartment yesterday... but where were the contents?
"Who touched my things... who touched my things!"
He spun around abruptly, glaring at the tall Holy Knight standing by the door. "Was it you?"
"No, of course not! I wouldn't dare!" the Holy Knight denied quickly.
Bishop Gordon's expression grew darker, a sense of dread spreading through his heart.
But he could only force himself to stay calm as he hurried back to the office next door.
Just then...
He saw a letter lying quietly on the wide desk.
Bishop Gordon's heart sank as he grabbed the envelope.
His eyes quickly scanned the brief text on the paper, and he slammed his hand onto the desk in a rage.
"A threat! This is a threat!"
"Who on earth is it... who is it?"
The Holy Knight stepped forward. "Bishop, what does the letter say?"
Bishop Gordon didn't answer; he only remained in a gloomy silence, his face shifting through various expressions.
After a moment, he looked out the window at the street and whispered his orders: "Pass down my command... tell the patrolling clergymen to withdraw for now. All external operations are temporarily suspended!"
The Holy Knight was taken aback. "But, Bishop, the Count... the Magic Prohibition Decree is being promulgated tomorrow. We promised to cooperate fully..."
"I said go!" Bishop Gordon interrupted sharply. "I'll find a way to deal with the Count..."
He paused, looking at the letter clutched tightly in his hand, unable to hide his lingering fear.
Since the other party could find my leverage and place this on my desk without a sound, perhaps... the Count had already met with misfortune as well.
...
While Bishop Gordon was caught between shock and anger.
A few streets away, on the open-air second floor of a restaurant, Ansu and Celia were peacefully enjoying their lunch.
A sun hat blocked the scorching sunlight, casting a soft pale gold glow on the edge of the plates. From this terrace, one could see the dome of the cathedral and the grand castle of the City Lord's Mansion further in the distance.
"Bishop Gordon must be quite surprised right now, wouldn't you say?" Ansu stuffed a fry into his mouth, his gaze moving slowly from the cathedral to the City Lord's Mansion as he contemplated the afternoon's actions.
"I suppose..." Celia didn't seem to care much. Her eyes drifted toward the fish and chips in front of Ansu. "Ansu, I want to eat that."
Ansu picked up a perfectly sized fry with his fork, dipped it in some sauce, and naturally held it to her lips.
Celia opened her mouth and took a light bite.
After chewing slowly for a few moments, her slender finger pointed to the dessert next to Ansu's hand, garnished with mint leaves.
"And that, I want to eat that too!"
Ansu glanced at her helplessly. "Is there no food in front of you? Miss Witch, why are you always eating mine?"
Celia rested her chin on her hand, her posture lazy yet self-assured. "But... I just want you to feed me."
The helplessness on Ansu's face became more apparent, but he still scooped up a spoonful of the milky-white dessert and held it to her lips again.
Celia took it in one go, the cold sensation melting in her mouth, and she squinted her eyes in satisfaction.
"Is it good?" Ansu saw her satisfied, cat-like expression, and his heart felt as if it were filled with the afternoon sun.
"I can't actually tell if it's good or not, but it feels... quite refreshing," Celia said with a smile. "The point is that Ansu is serving me~"
"Hmm..." Ansu fell into deep thought once again regarding the topic of whether Miss Witch truly lacked a sense of taste.
"You eat too!" Celia smilingly handed a piece of salad from her side to Ansu.
As the two fed each other, many white-robed clergymen and church personnel on the street below were withdrawing toward the cathedral.
"It looks like our threat worked," Celia said while eating.
Ansu watched the direction of the City Lord's Mansion. "Next is Count Alston."
However, in his plan, he didn't intend to use the same direct threat against this iron-fisted Northern lord.
Ansu planned to back his competitor.
A member of the family who harbored resentment and held a legitimate right of inheritance: Count Alston's nephew, Edmond Alston.
After hearing his idea, Celia nodded slightly, her tone becoming interested. "If the person we back takes power, we'll gain a powerful noble ally in the North. That would actually be more useful than the Lawrence family..."
The Lawrence family name might still command some superficial respect within the Empire, but it was ultimately an empty shell. A real Northern lord who controlled land, armies, and finances could provide entirely different levels of support.
The two looked at each other, seeing a shared, scheming glint in their eyes.
...
At three in the afternoon, in a dilapidated manor on the western outskirts of the city.
Edmond Alston woke up abruptly from a nap in his study, a sudden, inexplicable sense of dread washing over him.
He quickly looked around and immediately noticed something strange.
Silence permeated the air—the usual sounds of footsteps in the house and the occasional chatter of servants had all vanished.
He cautiously pushed open the study door and saw a shocking sight.
All the guards and servants in the house were slumped on the floor, unconscious.
Two uninvited guests stood silently, both wearing gold masks that reflected a ghostly sheen in the afternoon light. As they slowly turned their gaze toward him, they looked like soul-reaping ghosts.
"Who... who are you!?"
Edmond's face turned pale instantly. His first thought was... had his uncle finally decided to kill his eyesore of a nephew?
"Don't be nervous," the male masked figure in front spoke. His voice was calm but carried an invisible pressure. "We are your friends."
"Fri... ends?" Edmond leaned against the wall, his voice dry with tension. "I don't remember having friends who... break into noble manors."
"We brought you something you've been looking for." The masked Ansu took a small step forward, and Edmond couldn't help but recoil in fear.
"Haven't you always believed that your father, the eldest son who guarded the border for the family, died of a conspiracy rather than a barbarian ambush?" Ansu said slowly. "You've investigated in secret for years but lacked evidence."
Edmond's heart felt as if it were being squeezed, and his breath hitched.
"But I have brought you evidence." Ansu's tone was seductive. "And I can help you... take back everything you deserve."
"Evidence?" Edmond's voice trembled, but the mention of this matter forced him to pull himself together. "What evidence could you have? That man... he's terrifyingly clean in his work!"
Ansu smiled faintly. In the simulations, he had obtained many trivial pieces of information from Count Alston's own accounts, which were proving extremely useful now.
"The key intelligence that led your father to make a wrong judgment and take a risk in the war was delivered by a spy named 'the Lame', wasn't it?"
"How... how do you know so much?" Edmond's eyes widened.
Ansu watched him, thinking that information asymmetry really is wonderful.
"Go check the current chieftain of the barbarian tribe 'Black Fang'," Ansu laid out the Count's old conspiracy. "You'll find it was nothing more than a 'cooperation' where both sides got what they wanted. Your father and all the soldiers were betrayed."
"Is that so... was it really like that..." Edmond muttered to himself, his gaze becoming increasingly complex.
Ansu's smile deepened because the rhythm was now firmly in his control.
He continued:
"But knowing this isn't very useful to you now. The truth cannot topple a Count."
"But power can."
"If you become the new Count Alston, you can not only publicly judge your enemy and clear your father's name, but you can also reshape the family's glory and end the current Count's dangerous actions that are dragging the family into the mire of rebellion."
"Rebellion!?" Edmond was even more shocked. "Is that true? Does that old man have such nerve?"
Ansu stopped there, not revealing more, but instead smiled warmly. "So? Are you willing to cooperate with us?"
Edmond took a deep breath, revenge and the desire for power burning together. He stared intently at the gold masks. "But what is the price?"
"What... what do you want from me?"
"It's simple," Ansu replied. "We need a rational Northern lord. The Magic Prohibition Decree being pushed by Count Alston must be stopped—at least, it cannot be implemented under your rule."
Edmond was stunned, then realization dawned on him.
That explains it, that explains it...
No wonder these two powerful black mages would seek him out at this time. After all, rumors of the Magic Prohibition Decree were currently the talk of the town.
"I... I never supported that thing anyway!" Edmond immediately expressed his determination, though it was unclear if it was genuine or a result of his survival instinct.
"My father and my grandfather both supported magitech industry and the old Emperor! My uncle, on the other hand, is an opportunist! He never cares for the big picture!"
He continued, "If I can have my revenge, if I can take back everything that belonged to me and my father... such a simple condition, of course I can agree!"
"A wise choice." The female masked figure spoke for the first time, her voice coming through the mask with a hint of lazy amusement. "To ensure our future Count lives until the day of his succession, we'll give you a powerful bodyguard."
She lightly clapped her hands.
From the shadows, a black-robed figure appeared silently—an elderly man with a stern face.
Ansu gave a slight nod to Elder Kurt, an elder of the Restorationist faction.
In truth, the cult currently showed much less obvious factional strife under Celia's powerful deterrence.
Edmond understood clearly; they called it protection, but it was the most direct form of surveillance.
And he had no choice.
Looking at the two cold gold masks, Edmond finally nodded.
"Fine."
"I accept... your friendship."
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