Chapter 2 – Catching the Bread Thief (2)

The machinery of government at Pennheim Royal Palace creaked into motion in the late afternoon.

These leisurely meetings, held after teatime, were a testament to the kingdom’s current state of peace.

Servants bustled through the corridors, loading numerous packages onto carriages. Through the window, the Prime Minister observed their movements as he delivered his various reports.

“This year’s wheat yield in the southern Osentury region has significantly surpassed last year’s. It’s an unprecedented bumper crop, Your Majesty.”

“The purification work in the Demon Realm is also progressing rapidly as the snow melts. Regarding the demonic statue discovered near the front lines, Margrave Wiblet is personally leading the investigation with his knights.”

“Monarch has shown no unusual activity since the armistice agreement. However, they’ve inquired about alternative methods to cover the costs of holy water and wisdom salt required for the purification process.”

Despite the drowsy afternoon sunlight, not a single minister’s attention wavered. All eyes were fixed upon King Baor III.

He was the man who had achieved humanity’s millennium-long dream of defeating the Demon King, bringing peace to this world—the great ruler of Pennheim. Though aged, his stature in Pennheim remained unmatched. Even Princess Erzebert, set to enroll in the academy this year, held her father in the highest regard.

In her youth, the world had been chaos incarnate. Blood spilled across the continent had nourished crops, some even presented to the royal family. It was an era where everything was sacrificed for peace.

Upon that foundation, the kingdom’s premier academy had been established.

“Are the enrollment procedures in order?” The king’s weighty voice broke the silence.

The minister immediately bowed his head. “Yes, Your Majesty. Due to her state duties, we’ve informed them she cannot attend the entrance ceremony. If she departs now using the Magic Carriage from the Tower of Magic, she will arrive in Farencia by nightfall.”

“Very well. Let us adjourn this meeting. Each of you, fulfill your duties faithfully for the future of our kingdom.”

“As you command, Your Majesty.”

As the king rose, the ministers began to file out one by one. Erzebert approached her father to bid a final farewell before her departure.

“I shall return in good health, Father.”

“Yes, see that you do.”

However, her usually kind father seemed somewhat… different. His expression was a mix of complicated emotions and fear, a look of profound weariness.

In the now-empty conference room, the king’s low voice shattered the silence.

“Erzebert.”

“Yes, Father?”

“Last night, a letter arrived from Horus’s Lighthouse.”

“Truly?! What did it say?”

Horus’s Lighthouse—a dream-like place for any who pursued the pinnacle of Magic. It was a surveillance mechanism created by Grand Mage Terra Ernestine, one of the war heroes who, alongside the White Knight Margrave Wiblet, had vanquished the Demon King.

Surrounded by invisible Magic and possessing the astounding ability to move, even the concerted efforts of the seven mage towers had failed to pinpoint its location.

As far as she knew, it had been five years since the last contact. What could the letter possibly contain? Perhaps a congratulatory message for her academy enrollment?

However, contrary to Erzebert’s eager anticipation, the content was rather perplexing.

“They advised frequenting the convenience store.”

“I… beg your pardon?”

The convenience store? Did he mean the shop selling miscellaneous goods in the marketplace?

While Erzebert’s mind reeled in confusion, the king heaved a deep sigh.

“Erzebert, you are aware that abusing your royal status within the academy is strictly forbidden, are you not?”

“Yes, Father. That’s precisely why I plan to join the student council.”

“Indeed. You’ll likely be elected without much trouble. Although a first-year has never held the president’s position, the academy’s history isn’t particularly long.”

The king lowered his voice, signaling the start of the real conversation.

During the ‘Great War’—the term for the all-out conflict between humans and demons—a party had defeated the Demon King.

The Proud White Knight, Wiblet Barencoff.

The Saint of the Poor, Eris Prashura.

The One-Eyed Grand Mage, Terra Ernestine.

The Sorcerer of the New Moon, Nova Latte.

And finally, the unnamed warrior—

A decade after the Demon King’s demise, few knew that one of the most concerning individuals among the three missing party members now resided in Farencia. Even those aware of this presence never spoke of the true identity.

“When you join the student council, you’ll be inundated with letters from the mage towers, trading companies, and various noble houses. Some will attempt to secure their interests under the guise of sponsorship, demanding influence over academy personnel or reconstruction projects.”

The students enrolling in the academy were scions of noble houses, each possessing innate talent in Magic or swordsmanship. Providing them with even minimal luxuries—carriages, clothing repairs, refreshments, perfumes, and other such indulgences—required astronomical sums.

This massive wealth was funded through sponsorships. Naturally, receiving large sums meant giving something in return.

“I understand, Father. It’s all part of the political game. Rest assured, I won’t allow our interests to be compromised.”

“No, Erzebert. That’s not what I’m trying to convey.”

The king swallowed hard, fear glinting in his eyes.

“Listen carefully. No matter what transpires, do not, under any circumstances, interfere with the convenience store. Relinquish everything else if necessary, but neither the student council nor any noble house should touch any interests related to that store.”

“But… why, Father?”

It was unlike him to speak without clear, practical reasons.

“It’s for the sake of our kingdom. Please, my child… be vigilant.”

But no further explanation came from the king’s troubled voice. Even his warning to be cautious felt oddly dissonant.

With a heart full of questions, Erzebert boarded the carriage bound for Farencia.

***

What in the world is all this?

Late into the night, as the carriage rumbled along, Erzebert pored over the academy’s code of conduct with growing bewilderment.

[171. Do not handle items sold at the store carelessly.]

[172. Do not disrespect the store owner.]

[173. Do not react sensitively to the store owner’s disrespect.]

The so-called guidelines of the kingdom’s premier Magic academy were filled with bizarre rules instead of principles on handling Magic. Did the headmaster possess any sense at all?

Though it seemed hardly worth her time, Erzebert’s patience saw her through to the last page.

[258. In the event of an unknown external attack threatening the destruction of Farencia Academy, all faculty and students are to take refuge in the store and seek the owner’s aid.]

Her refined brows furrowed as she gripped the book tighter.

There must still be hidden forces at work within the kingdom.

Her sharp mind quickly grasped the implications. The academy’s establishment in a remote town far from the capital had sparked tremendous opposition at the time. Yet, the construction had proceeded under the forceful push of the king and a handful of ministers, backed by enormous undisclosed funds and stringent security measures.

Clearly, the academy held secrets that all the ministers were sworn to keep.

This warrants investigation.

A small building standing conspicuously at the center of such vast grounds, with numerous signs pointing to its owner. It was undeniably suspicious.

“Phi—”

“Don’t fret, Phi. You’ll adapt soon enough.”

Erzebert attempted to comfort the colorful bird in its cage. Phi was her familiar, a gift from her childhood. Sensitive to magical currents, it could detect dangerous individuals approaching.

The bird’s incessant cries as they neared the academy filled her with an ominous sense of foreboding.

Suddenly, the carriage lurched to a halt.

Screech!

“What’s happening?”

“My deepest apologies, Your Highness. It appears there’s been some misunderstanding.”

Opening the door, she saw the guards at the main gate blocking their carriage. Her attendant was engaged in a heated argument with the captain.

“But Her Highness is already enrolled! Do you realize whose path you’re obstructing?”

“This is a mandatory procedure for all noble students, regardless of rank. We must inspect the luggage before allowing entry to the dormitory.”

“It’s very late. Surely this can wait until morning?”

“There are no exceptions to the rules—”

“Allow the inspection,” Erzebert interjected. “Open the luggage compartment.”

As Erzebert stepped out, the gruff-looking knight saluted, hand to chest.

“Your Highness, I beg your forgiveness for delaying your journey.”

“It’s quite alright. May I have your name?”

“Ahem, I am Mark Botterval, a knight of the fifth rank, entrusted with overseeing Farencia Academy’s security.”

“You’re performing your duty admirably, Sir Botterval. By all means, conduct your inspection. However, it would be rather inappropriate to examine royal belongings and my personal attire here in the open.”

“That’s—of course! I appreciate your understanding, Your Highness!”

Had it been a lower-ranking noble or someone lacking family prestige, Mark might have insisted on searching even their undergarments. But he dared not suggest such a thing to royalty.

In the dim glow of the gas lamps, only the sound of luggage straps being untied echoed in the silence. Aside from Phi’s occasional cries, all was quiet.

After a time, Mark nodded and swung open the gate.

“The inspection is complete. Welcome to Farencia Academy, Your Highness.”

“Phi—”

Erzebert re-entered the carriage, yearning for rest after the long journey. Yet, to her puzzlement, the carriage remained stationary.

Perplexed, she peered out at the coachman, who was repeatedly tugging at the reins, frustration evident in his movements.

“What’s gotten into these blasted horses?! Your Highness, I most humbly apologize. What in the world is—”

“Phi—! Phi—! Phi—!”

Startled by her familiar’s sudden, frantic cries, Erzebert’s attention was drawn to a shadow gradually materializing against the carriage’s white curtains.

“Mind if I slip in, Mark?”

“What brings you out so late?”

“New semester and all. Had to stock up in the commercial district.”

“Next time, try to wrap it up earlier. If I weren’t on duty, this could’ve been a real hassle… Hey, what’s wrong?”

The newcomer, sensing something amiss inside the carriage, halted mid-step and turned.

“What is it, Louis?”

“Nothing… just curious. That plumage—it’s rare to see such vibrant colors outside the Lavierre range.”

“What are you on about?”

“Oh, it’s quite something. The breast meat, tender as a thigh. Used to roast them often, back in the day. Rather miss it, truth be told.”

“Phi-phi-phi-phi-phi-phi-phi—!!!”

“Phi, please! Calm yourself…!”

As Erzebert fumbled with the cage latch, the carriage rocked violently, finally startling the horses back to their senses.

Moments later, the mysterious man who had emerged from the darkness vanished into the academy grounds. Cautiously, Erzebert cracked open the window and called out.

“Sir Botterval?”

“Yes, Your Highness? Is something amiss?”

“That man just now—who was he?”

“Oh, him?” Mark scratched his head, his tone nonchalant. “Just the convenience store owner. Sells odds and ends at the academy.”

“What manner of person is he?”

“Well, let’s see… As I recall, he was among the refugees who settled here after the war. Nothing particularly remarkable about him.”

Could that truly be the case? Never had she witnessed Phi react so violently.

As they passed beneath the small lamps illuminating the red brick path, shrouded in the pitch-black night, Erzebert turned the name she had overheard in their conversation over in her mind.

Louis.

Louis.

Louis Brunhard.

— Have we lost contact again?

— My deepest apologies, Your Majesty. Communication remains disrupted…

— I see. If they can still hunt and dispatch such creatures, their food stores must not yet be depleted. You are dismissed.

It was a name that tugged at the edges of her memory—familiar, yet stubbornly eluding her grasp.