Chapter 471: Chapter 468: A Bunch of Vermin
"...Farewell." ’So Mother was right after all,’ Richard thought, nodding to himself.
"Wait, you’re a Mage, right? I’m a Witch."
Richard found that this woman had a knack for making him stay. "Ma’am, there are only female Casters. The term ’Witch’ has negative connotations." ’But for her to say that... does that mean she’s a Caster too?’
"That’s just the custom here. In my homeland, a Witch is a very powerful figure. My ancestor, the first Duke of Pomerania, was a Witch with the power of prophecy! I inherited my ancestor’s name, and I inherited her power!"
’A talent for the Prophetic System?’ Before Richard could even react, Libus instantly pulled a deck of cards from a place one couldn’t politely mention. Richard couldn’t help but want to roast her. ’Did she sew an Alchemy Storage Bag in there?’
The girl quickly insisted that he participate in her card trick. Richard drew a card, and Libus stared at its back for a moment. "The Three of Swords, right?"
"...That doesn’t prove anything. Street performers everywhere can do tricks like that. Besides, is this the part where we get to the Divination analysis?" Richard had sat down next to Libus without even realizing it.
"Boring! You’re just like everyone else!" Libus tossed the cards aside and pointed at her own eyes. "My dad said you’re a powerful Caster. Can’t you see what’s special about a Pomeranian Witch?"
"Um... they’re very pretty..." He had intended to give this crazy woman a perfunctory answer, but he was suddenly at a loss for words. A genuine gleam of Magic Power was shimmering in her irises...
Libus continued speaking, but this time her voice was very soft. Her tone shifted from boisterous to beguiling, making Richard instinctively want to lean closer to hear what she was saying. "There will be... an invitation for you to leave the ball. Refuse it. Don’t go."
"Why?"
"If you go, you will be in grave danger."
The young man’s expression turned serious. "I need to know why. How grave is ’grave’? Will it affect my parents... and you?"
"When I say ’grave,’ I mean it will affect everyone! Everyone I’ve seen since the Airship landed."
’The entire Imperial Capital?’ Richard wanted to ask more, but her only reply was, "A true goddess of fate must blind her own eyes."
Richard seriously considered Libus’s words, then came to a conclusion. "Then you shouldn’t have come."
"Only my father, Duke Crook, will believe my prophecies! Everyone else is pretty much like you—they either laugh it off or are skeptical! Fine, the truth is, I foresaw that the danger to myself was acceptable, so I came to meet you to appease my mother. As soon as the ball is over tonight, I’m outta here."
She took out a miniature portrait of Richard—the first step in the nobility’s arranged marriages was to exchange portraits of the man and woman, which was why Libus also had a "little Richard" in her possession. She placed the mini oil portrait on top of a romance novel from Bayern about an overbearing Mage, as if Richard himself were the cover model.
"Regardless, I had to see with my own eyes if you were worth saving. If you were as handsome in person as you are in the portrait, then even if there’s no chance for us, getting a few extra glances in before we part forever would be nice..."
"So, what’s the verdict?"
"Not bad. You qualify to be the template for my designated male lead."
Soon, Richard’s mother arrived and separated the two with just a few words—it was not a good thing for her son to spend too much time with this "barbarian wild girl."
’Old hag... I’m trying to save your son!’ Libus thought, popping a dessert into her mouth and secretly making a face.
However, Libus’s plan fell through. From that point on, she didn’t see Richard again.
A bad feeling began to rise within her. The Duke’s Daughter couldn’t help but ask the castle servants, finally learning from a doorman that Richard had slipped out.
"Where did he go?"
"...The Young Master seems to have gone by himself on horseback... He left a message for the Master and Mistress that he was going to the retired officers’ club in the south of the city..."
’Damn it, as I thought, only Father believes my prophecies... No, the prophecy was just his excuse not to leave the country. If he truly believed, he wouldn’t have let Mother and me come here!’ Libus, exasperated, pulled out Richard’s portrait, but then she froze. What she saw through her "Witch’s Eye" was no longer a vicious red glow, but a swirl of chaos.
’He accepted the invitation, but his fate has been changed? Was it my interference or some other factor?’
Libus was still hesitating. When the state of future sight faded, Richard’s face once again appeared perfectly clear on the portrait.
’...My prophecies have never changed like this before. No, I have to go see for myself!’ While the doorman watched, dumbfounded, Libus ripped off the cumbersome hem of her dress, revealing the tight pants of a hunting outfit beneath. Then, she tied up her long, curly hair that had been draped over her shoulders.
She charged straight to the stables. "The daughter of Duke Crook requests to borrow a fast horse from the Dalberg Clan!"
With a pull of the reins and a squeeze of her legs, horse and rider shot out and vanished into the estate’s darkness.
The doorman felt a sense of déjà vu, as the scene was strikingly similar to when the Young Master had departed.
「The retired officers’ club, second floor.」
A group of officers, reeking of strong liquor, were making a deafening racket. Some were retired, others active duty, but all were in uniform.
The party was decorated with sabers, pikes, and a massive map of the Ferolun Continent.
The organizer of the party, retired Colonel Reuben, was giving a passionate speech. "Our army is invincible! Our blade is unstoppable!"
Everyone cheered enthusiastically. But Reuben’s tone suddenly shifted. "And yet, our recent wars have been one loss after another! It’s unthinkable! Back in my day, my brothers and I fought the arrogant Barbarian Race! We fought the short folk with cannons big enough to stuff a man inside... We won all those wars, so why are we losing to the Valois people, the very ones we ridicule the most?"
The others immediately fell silent.
Reuben let out a drunken hiccup. "Because... someone is holding us back! Because someone doesn’t want to see us soldiers continue to win victories for the Empire! They are the Civil Servants, the corrupt elite, the parasites in our army..."
He brandished his saber, pointing it straight out the window, where a corner of the Empire Parliament Building was visible. "The enemy... is in the Imperial Capital!"
Recently, a draft bill for electoral district reform was supposedly introduced. Certain details within it sparked a particular interpretation among some officers. First, the electoral districts of the West Malin Kingdom, bucking the general trend, were to be merged rather than split. This region was where the fiefs of decorated nobles and retired military personnel were concentrated, effectively reducing the number of seats representing the military’s will.
At the same time, it also attempted to redefine the chain of command, requiring the Empire Army headquarters to be supervised by the Council’s War Committee in addition to being accountable to the Emperor.
"His Majesty the Emperor’s health is no longer fit to lead us! Now, all power has been usurped by that Prime Minister! And behind him is a swarm of vermin who have thrown the Empire into chaos. How can those pot-bellied, greasy-mouthed stupid pigs possibly govern the Empire properly?
"To restore our glory, we must support the Crown Prince’s early ascension to the throne! Re-turn all pow-er to the throne! And, we must purge the vermin surrounding His Majesty the Emperor!"
Amidst the agitated atmosphere, the war hero "Major Turtle," Richard Hench, was being held down. His face was bruised and swollen, clear evidence that he’d taken a severe beating.
Before him lay an Empire military flag. The black, white, and red cloth was covered in signatures and bloody handprints.
"The fate of the Empire hangs on this single stroke!" Reuben roared, raising his arm. He then quickly drew his sidearm, loaded it, and pressed it to Hench’s head. "You’re just some hero who got a little famous. I’m telling you to sign, so you’ll sign, whether you want to or not! Think of your family! Think of the mission of our Empire Army!"
Hench spat out a bloody, broken tooth. "You son of a bitch!"
BANG!
The gun fired, and the second Richard arrived.
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