After the hunt, the Fortress City in the Corpse Wasteland thrummed with life.

On the terrace of an upscale inn overlooking a verdant garden.

Vicher and Vichera offered their thanks to Kyrie.

“Thank you, Young Lord Kyrie.”

“Young Lord Helios has been received safely. Here is the certificate—please check it.”

Kyrie took the certificate from them.

It was a document confirming that the boy called Helios had been taken into their custody and that, at that time, there were no problems with his health or comportment.

“Now we can return safely.”

Vicher breathed a sigh of relief.

“Safely?”

A question surfaced in Kyrie’s eyes.

“Yes. Safely.”

“The undead army was numerous and fierce, but surely your skills were more than enough to repel them, weren’t they?”

“The undead army is not the only problem,” Vicher said. “The problem is enemies disguised as the undead army.”

Vicher gave a bitter smile.

“If they slaughtered us and Helios and then proclaimed, ‘This was the work of the undead army,’ there’d be no answer for that.”

“That’s right. And we wouldn’t even know who that enemy is. They might come wearing the mask of the Royal Family, or the mask of the Church, or no mask at all.”

Vichera added the last line.

Kyrie let out a soft breath.

I asked for no reason.

A strange sense of relief came over him.

So that’s why House Astreos is said to be tightly united. The squabbles between adopted heirs and direct heirs were just child’s play.

In any case, Astreos was not that weak.

“My brother will return with Young Lord Helios, but I plan to remain in the border city. Compared to Astreos, it’s a fief on the level of House Magnes. I’ll stay until the elixir trade stabilizes. And….”

Vichera drew a deep breath as if making a firm resolution.

“I think these mutated beasts are entirely different from those that appeared before. They’re not comparable to exploding goblins or scorpion-wolves. They mutate regardless of species, and they’re contagious—no one knows how much they’ll spread in a few years’ time.”

She removed the demon-shaped mask that had hidden her face.

“When that time comes, every great house will gather in one place to discuss measures. They will select one house to represent the rest. Then the girl will cast her vote for you, Young Lord. As I said before. I revealed my face to swear by the Constellation that I’m not speaking empty words.”

One of Vichera and Vicher’s vows had been: never to lie with their face exposed.

I did end it well enough, after all.

Kyrie had no way of knowing that beforehand.

But as one who himself had sworn oaths and as someone who had seen and heard many strange vows, he could tell that Vichera was binding her words to a blazing supergiant.

Yes. You finished it well.

A realist by nature, Kyrie believed that oath was genuine.

He looked up and saw Vichera’s face.

Beneath the ears, her red hair tied into two braids, and under the long, arching eyebrows, a face he had not seen in months was revealed.

A slightly small but well-shaped nose, lips like cherry blossoms, a slender jaw.

An oddly youthful appearance without makeup.

A face that did not match the tone befitting a battle-hardened noble warrior.

“I don’t know how to repay the courtesy of the lady. I will ensure the supply of Starlight Elixir is never interrupted. I hope our connection continues without end.”

“We hope for the same,” Vicher answered.

“It’s exactly what I wanted; thank you for saying it first, Young Lord,” Vichera said, smiling brightly even without her mask—so bright it showed even through Vicher’s mask.

She said “our connection.” Not “the house’s” but “our” connection. She’s deep and ambitious—she already knows all our plans.

And she said cooperation. She brought up the Starlight Elixir again to emphasize she’d heard that the girl would stay nearby to manage the business. She must like the girl, then. She must, right?

At that level, she’s exceptional—no, special. Face, skill, house, background, wealth—there’s nothing to fault.

I do worry she’ll die early, though. Still—she’s perfect. Send a madam in a year or two. I should meet her a couple more times.

At that moment, through the twins’ subtle, inexpressible signal unique to them, Kyrie understood a conversation that would have made him faint had he known earlier.

For a first diplomatic move, this counts as a passing grade. I even heard she’ll support me at the princes’ meeting—this is a great success. I wonder what the head of the house will think, though.

Kyrie was filled with the satisfaction of having secured an alliance.

“Oh, and one favor….”

If Kyrie had forgotten one thing, it was that in this era alliances and marriage were inseparable.

Kyrie handed Helios over and returned to the camp.

“Load everything!”

“We depart in three days! Spend all your money here; if you want souvenirs, buy them today.”

The camp was busy with preparations for retreat—pulling up tent pegs, loading wagons.

The matters between houses are settled.

Kyrie headed to a large barracks at the center of the camp.

If there’s anything to worry about, it’s the situation at the capital. How Scipio reported and how the adopted heirs spread that report is predictable. They will in some way try to drive a wedge between me and Andromeda.

He held in his hand the document bearing Vicher’s and Vichera’s signatures.

“Sister?”

“You’re back?”

The barracks door opened and Andromeda’s face appeared.

“Hurry and come in, quick!”

She grabbed Kyrie’s wrist and pulled him into the barracks.

“Isn’t this amazing?”

Four bottles of elixir sat on the table in the center of the barracks.

They were colors Kyrie had never seen before.

They shone with many hues.

The Starlight Elixir had a soft yellow glow, and the Nebula Elixir changed color like a twilight surface seen beneath water.

This elixir was different.

Like freshly cut opal, innumerable shifting lights gathered in a single instant.

“This was made from the extract taken from the Fly King. It’s the highest grade we’ve ever produced. I can say with confidence it rivals—or rather surpasses—the Thunder-class elixirs we’ve had before.”

Hippocrates said, pride showing even through his dark-circled eyes.

“Some call the grade star-body. It means starlight, star-cloud, the body of a star.”

Andromeda added in an excited voice.

“Thunder-class.”

Kyrie was so excited he almost forgot the document he held.

Thunder-class.

A top-tier elixir classified as a strategic resource even in Astreos.

People used “not even Thunder-class will do” or “you need at least Thunder-class” as a way to describe something precious.

If we can make this ourselves—

The strategic value flashed through Kyrie’s mind like a panorama.

Now Andromeda would not need to share the family’s constrained workshop with competitors.

This was entirely different from Kyrie’s days when even one or two vials of Nebula Elixir could only be obtained under Trias’s watch.

They could manufacture personal mercenaries bound by loyalty to crush opposition and strengthen their position.

As that thought surfaced, his brief elation settled back to normal.

Right.

He remembered the document in his hand.

“You take one, I take one, the Father gets one, and leave the last bottle here.”

Andromeda distributed the star-body elixirs with a radiant smile.

“Agreed. And sister—look at this.”

Kyrie thrust forward the document he had brought.

“What is it?”

“The operation—where we legally ‘released’ Erica so House Rikenta would be involved, using the relationship between the Free City mercenaries and our mercenary company to eliminate legal issues.”

“Yes.”

“This is the meeting record showing that you proposed that operation, Sister. The Flammerios signed it.”

“Why would we need something like this?”

Andromeda blinked.

“What do you think Scipio reported? What will the adopted heirs be whispering? They’ll say that as a direct heir you quietly stood by while the Royal Family insulted us, and I, as the adopted heir, stepped up and took revenge….”

“That’s true, isn’t it? It just says you did it well—so what’s the problem?”

The truth escaped her mouth with pure innocence.

What is this? A leading interrogation? A plan to make words come out of me supporting the idea that people might back me as Sub-patriarch?

Kyrie’s eyes trembled.

“You worry about your sister, don’t you? Is that it?”

Andromeda looked straight into Kyrie’s eyes.

Worried? For me? Or for Andromeda?

She smiled clearly, kindly, and brightly.

“Listen. I don’t care what people say about me. I didn’t care when Trias was in power. Whether they support me or support Trias, I never cared. Don’t you remember what Father said? You don’t gain this position by being pushed into it or dragged into it. Remember?”

“I remember.”

“Same for me. The position I want cannot be won by someone’s vote for or against me. If someone would sabotage and make me fail, then there was never any point in getting into that position in the first place. So don’t let the words of lesser people shake you.”

Andromeda took the document from Kyrie, gently but firmly.

Flare!

She lit Hippocrates’s alcohol lamp and burned it.

So she’s a direct heir.

Kyrie felt a strange mix of embarrassment, abundant relief, and slight emptiness.

“Sister wants you to do better. She wants you to support her for decades and centuries to come. Understood?”

Andromeda truly was a Sub-patriarch.

She held no reservations toward him.

Only someone who did not doubt themselves at all could reach such a level—like Head of House Peleus.

So that’s what she wants to become.

If one had strength beyond reason and logic, no one needed to check them.

Whether Andromeda truly possessed that power was a matter for further thought.

Her absolute authority had been damaged once by defeat at the hands of Trias and the Royal Family alliance.

It was deep night.

The bishop of the Fortress City in the Corpse Wasteland, Bishop Uranos, met a man in a secret stronghold among the rocky hills.

“You delayed long enough.”

The man’s name was Betelgeuse.

He was a close collateral member of the Royal Family Stellite.

“It would’ve been best if we had completely prevented them from taking anything, but this will do as the second best.”

“I will never forget this humiliation.”

Betelgeuse’s face was twisted with anger.

“Enough of that—prepare more knights. We will split the Sub-patriarch of Astreos and the Grand Prince.”

“Flags, armor, swords….”

“Didn’t I tell you to bring more knights?”

Bang!

Bishop Uranos slammed his fist onto the table.

“Don’t forget who made you into a royal. Do you think you’re the true royal because we set you between the six great houses? How long will we tolerate you cozying up to those red bastards!”

“…….”

Betelgeuse fell silent and bowed his head.

“Leave.”

At Uranos’s command, Betelgeuse stepped back, powerless.

Uranos sat still and prayed.

“All is under the light of the Myriad Star. The beginning, the middle, and the end are all under that light; heed the words that ended the ancient empire of evil.”

Everything was proceeding as planned.

“When the twelve stars cross, all will return to what it was….”

The heretical faction that created the mutated beasts, the splintered noble houses, the senseless apostates—all were under the light of the Myriad Star.

An adopted heir from the red-light district had popped out in Astreos, but that was a trifling variable.

He was not Peleus, the one with the sacred mark; how could he overturn the flow of history?

Several dozen kilometers away, in the desert.

A man dressed in immaculate white, entirely unsuited to the place, appeared before a massive Whitebone Lord.

Thud.

To everyone’s surprise, the Whitebone Lord knelt before the man in white and bowed his head.

“The Fly King has been destroyed.”

“It endured long enough. We’ve gathered the data we needed.”

“Then—”

“Recall all equivalent graduate operatives. There’s no benefit in them still drawing the attention of the noble houses.”

“I will carry out your orders.”

Chapter 155

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