Beguiling the Enemy’s Patriarch - Chapter 98

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 98
Diego Schmart’s expression hardened as an ominous premonition flickered across his mind. He drew a firm line with his liege.
“Please, Your Majesty, exercise restraint this time. If you reduce the entire region to rubble again like last time….”
“Reduce it to rubble again?”
“I will go on strike myself.”
It was language far too familiar and casual to address an emperor, but neither of them paid it much mind. Diego pressed on with emphasis.
“Last spring when you burned down the entire Imperial Palace, or earlier this year when you overturned the entire Raid Region…. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve told you such things must never happen again, Your Majesty.”
“I know. I’m reflecting on it.”
Yet there was not a trace of genuine remorse in his tone. The one saving grace was that Diego knew one of the emperor’s few vulnerabilities.
“The Princess would not be pleased if she found out.”
“…What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”
But this answer came a beat too late. Diego seized the opening and spoke.
“She’s rather perceptive, so it will be difficult to hide from her.”
Auredhian Belgot was no longer listening. The image of that beloved face glaring at him on the day he had burned down the entire Imperial Palace flashed through his mind.
A faint smile played at the corners of his firm lips. More than a year and a half had passed, yet that dawn remained etched in his memory with vivid clarity, as if it were only yesterday. In fact, those scant four months had all been like that.
Diego pressed his point once more, emphasizing each word.
“Do not create more work for yourself, Your Majesty. I beg you.”
“Fine.”
Auredhian Belgot nodded perfunctorily. But both he and Diego knew that the moment the distance widened even slightly or his quarry showed signs of fleeing, he would abandon all restraint.
The pursuit had grown increasingly violent with each passing day—evidence that Auredhian’s composure was gradually crumbling. The reason was clear: over the past year, the “Seed of Divinity” that had always eluded his grasp had completely vanished in recent months. Whether it had been destroyed or had entered a realm beyond the reach of divine influence remained uncertain.
Leaving behind the deep sigh of the virtuous priest, Auredhian Belgot moved forward. Toward the one who had compelled him to travel all the way to Hejad, far from the Capital.
* * *
About a day later, the worst-case scenario Diego had braced himself for mercifully did not occur.
“Gah…!”
The monocle slipped from the bridge of his nose and tumbled downward.
Thud. Clatter.
Tendrils of divinity, lashing like whips across both wrists and ankles, bound the figure tightly against the cavern wall.
“Ugh, what is this…?”
Crimson mana began weaving densely in the air—a teleportation magic circle. But as the divine restraints suppressing the caster’s mana tightened, the half-formed circle shattered, unable to withstand the pressure. The brilliantly glowing mana extinguished with a whoosh.
“Resistance would not be advisable. Dealing with the aftermath of an underground cavern collapse is far more troublesome than managing surface destruction.”
Diego Schmart gazed down at the kneeling elder with a conflicted expression. Chernata Rosel. Once the master of the Magic Tower. The elderly sorcerer who had fled alongside the tower’s betrayal a year and a half ago. Suspended against the wall, his limbs bound by chains of divinity, the old man gasped out a name.
“Schmart….”
“It has been a long time, Rosel.”
Diego Schmart exhaled softly. Chernata Rosel cut such a pitiful figure that it was hard to believe he had once been the great archmage, teacher to all of Belgot’s sorcerers.
“A year and a half…. Or perhaps a bit longer?”
“I sensed I was being pursued, but I never imagined you would come in person.”
“The matter warranted it.”
Diego Schmart glanced back over his shoulder as he answered, toward the emperor who stood quietly in the shadows, observing Rosel’s capture.
In truth, there was no real need for the emperor to involve himself directly. With three Holy Knights under his direct command and Diego himself, the vice-bishop of Barishard, dealing with an elderly sorcerer was more than sufficient. Just as Diego was about to summon him, Chernata Rosel spoke first.
“Schmart…. Schmart.”
“Is there something you wish to say to me?”
Diego turned his head again, looking down at Rosel. The elderly mage coughed softly as he spoke.
“Did His Majesty send you?”
“…Of course he did.”
In fact, His Majesty is standing right behind me at this very moment. Diego swallowed those words. Rosel’s eyes darted about nervously.
“Did he order immediate execution?”
“….”
Immediate execution. In Belgot, those connected to black magic were to be shot on sight without trial, or transferred to the Priesthood for ‘purification’—such was the law. Of course, today was different, as the one who could hold that law in the palm of his hand was present in person. Rosel spoke hastily.
“I am no Black Mage, Schmart. I have never laid hands on such wicked magic in my entire life.”
“Is that so? Then why have you been running all this time?”
“…I had no choice. I too was afraid.”
“Did you betray His Majesty without even that much resolve?”
“No, that is not it. It is not the Belgot Imperial Family, not the Emperor, that I fear.”
The elderly mage whispered in terror.
“It is that child who frightens me.”
“….”
“The child I raised. Beautiful and cunning—a Black Mage.”
“Rosel.”
“Schmart, you do not understand. That child is so….”
Diego exhaled a short breath. His tone firm, he cut off Rosel’s words.
“Those words are not meant for me, it seems.”
“Then who else would I speak to? Let me go, Schmart. If you do, I swear I shall never return to Belgot again.”
“….”
“All you need do is hold your tongue, is it not?”
Diego regarded the elderly mage with pitying eyes, then turned his head to look behind him. The figure leaning against the wall at an odd angle, arms crossed, had concealed his presence flawlessly. Diego slowly opened his mouth.
“What shall we do?”
Beneath the hood, a twisted smile flickered into view. Diego asked once more.
“Immediate execution, Your Majesty?”
“Hardly.”
The answer came swiftly. A distorted laugh escaped from the figure leaning against the wall.
“There is far too much I wish to know. It would be wasteful to kill him now.”
Footsteps. He straightened and stepped forward. As he pulled back the hood completely, silver hair gleamed even in the darkness. Beneath it lay a handsome brow, sharp cheekbones, and the elegant line of lips and jaw.
“Ah….”
Rosel drew in a sharp breath. The silver hair, slightly shorter than it had been a year and a half ago, fell across his forehead. His eyes were keenly sharp. The former lord he remembered, who always wore an air of languid ease, now gazed at him with an expression entirely opposite to what memory held.
Cold, hard, and mineral—the face that had been drowsy as if just awakened from a long slumber was gone. In its place stood a man honed like a blade, radiating a keen and terrible edge.
Rosel could not bear to meet that gaze and lowered his eyes. A voice devoid of emotion fell upon him like a blade.
“It has been a long time, Rosel.”
“…Your…Majesty.”
“Have you been well?”
The question held no inflection. Click, click. The sound of buttons being undone from a robe echoed.
“I considered having you brought to the Capital before interrogating you. But then I realized that would only double the waiting.”
His voice continued, devoid of emotion, almost unsettling in its flatness.
“I haven’t had the leisure I once enjoyed these days.”
“Your Majesty.”
“I hope my effort in coming all this way personally held some value for you.”
For a year and a half, rumors had circulated that the Emperor gnashed his teeth as he scoured the entire empire. The purification campaign was merely a pretext—the true purpose was to eliminate the rebel faction, they said. It was connected to the collapse of the Belgot Magic Tower. The Magic Tower had betrayed the Imperial Family, they whispered.
Of course, to Auredhian, purifying the entire empire was equally important as tracking down Soleia’s remnants, but Rosel could never have known this, nor would he have had the opportunity to learn it.
A bluish-green divine force, curved like a hook, coiled around Rosel’s jaw and the back of his head, then wrenched upward with a violent snap. His head bent backward involuntarily, and the Emperor’s figure came into view. The Emperor leaned forward, his reddish eyes drawing Rosel’s gaze in like a mesmerizing spell.
“You disguised Soleia Lisard as an illegitimate daughter of the Elad Marquis Family.”
“….”
“That accursed house you yourself reported directly to the late Emperor fifteen years ago. She was the sole bloodline to survive the Lisard ‘purification ceremony.'”
One by one, Auredhian Belgot laid bare the facts he had already investigated. His voice was so deliberately slow it seemed to contradict his claim of lacking leisure.
“Whether you spirited that woman away out of guilt or for some other reason—I’m not particularly interested in that.”
“Your Majesty, that is….”
“You’ve had your reasons for overlooking that wicked sorceress all this time, I’m sure. Yes. That’s not what matters, Rosel.”
Long thumbs and index fingers swept across the divine chains binding Rosel’s left arm. Simultaneously, divine force splintered from the chains, coiling around Rosel’s neck like a thorned noose. His breath was instantly strangled.
“What I want to know is where that woman is right now.”
“Ugh, gah, kgh….”
“And what her true intentions are. What exactly does Soleia Elad intend to do in my land?”
“Your Majesty. Ugh….”
“You wouldn’t dare claim ignorance, would you, Rosel?”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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