Chapter 109
Wesley sat with her legs crossed, staring up at the ceiling.
Within the towering dome above, hundreds of spirits glowed and drifted about. Against the dark backdrop, it looked like a miniature universe. She absentmindedly fiddled with her long nails before calling over her aide.
“Baretto.”
“Yes, Lady Wesley.”
“Why don’t you move those reports out of the way?”
Despite her words, the aide didn’t budge, still clutching the documents. Instead, he stepped closer with a smirk, as if amused by her remark.
“Haven’t you been waiting long enough?”
On the surface, the reports detailed various academic experiments conducted by summoners invited from different nations. Since countries skilled in summoning arts often distrusted one another, the project also aimed to foster peaceful negotiations.
“Summoners are funny creatures. Back home, they’d kill each other if given the chance, but when gathered together, the research results keep coming in steadily.”
“The Great Empire Bariel, huh? They know better than to cause trouble where peace is being brokered.”
Wesley muttered indifferently as she skimmed through the reports.
“Besides, these are people who’ve sold their souls to academic inquiry. They must be having quite the time among themselves.”
She tapped the title of one report with her finger: The Limits of Summoning Arts. It was a dense study spanning hundreds of pages, detailing summoning experiments on plants, dead animals, and even living beasts.
Her aide, watching quietly, added an explanation.
“Each species has its strengths and weaknesses in summoning arts. If cooperation improves, we might soon achieve a whole new level of magical power. It shouldn’t take long. Shall I submit an official report to the council?”
“Yeah. The old men will be getting curious soon enough.”
This was an official project under the Ministry of Magic. When Wesley stamped her approval, another document was placed on the desk.
“Additionally, here are the results of research involving the living.”
The papers were treated as top secret even within the Ministry—Wesley’s personal matter. She pushed the seal aside and reverently flipped through the pages. Her eyes scanned the text quickly, disappointment growing.
Thud!
“Nothing’s changed from a few years ago.”
“I’m sorry. Though there’s a clear difference between the dead and the living, the moment you involve necromancy, the ritual becomes unstable.”
“Isn’t that why we’ve been pouring money into this? To fix that exact problem?”
Wesley tossed the report aside in frustration. The aide cautiously suggested an alternative.
“Lady Wesley, perhaps we should focus more on mind-control magic rather than summoning arts. Even with Gale’s decline, he likely hasn’t fully received the Imperial Blessing. After all, he’s a child of a concubine, not the empress.”
“Baretto! Do you realize what you just said?”
The Imperial Blessing—a mysterious power originating from Bariel’s founding myth—was recorded in the nation’s creation legends and documented in history by those who had witnessed its effects.
“No mind control magic works on those who carry the glory of the imperial bloodline.”
This blessing was bestowed by the gods to prevent the nation’s fate from being swayed by magical manipulation. Though interpretations varied, it was generally understood to apply to the emperor and the imperial family.
“And what about Gale?”
“I apologize.”
Wesley knew well. Though Gale was her lover, their feelings were far from equal. She trusted, followed, and loved him deeply, but she painfully sensed that he didn’t feel the same way about her.
Her sharp intuition had once whispered a chilling question:
If Gale ascends the throne, will he truly marry me?
“He’s meticulous enough not to remove the magic-sealing stone from his body, even in the bedroom. He must have set up some other kind of shield to block mind control magic.”
Not just Gale—Marib, and even the aging emperor—were immune to mind control.
That’s why they had searched for indirect methods, eventually turning to summoning arts. It resembled mind control magic but was perhaps better suited for blind loyalty.
“Anyway, enough nonsense. Keep pressuring the summoners. The operation is coming up soon, but there’s been zero progress.”
“We’ll correct that.”
“If you throw money at them, they’ll snap to attention and work harder. Tch. Pathetic.”
To soothe her frustration, Wesley lit a cigarette. The spirits floating near the ceiling drifted closer, sparking a tiny flame for her.
“Phew.”
She gently stroked one of the spirits in thanks, then turned her gaze away. The fact that she was going to such lengths to trap Gale was absurd—and she hated him fiercely for putting her in this position.
“What about Gale?”
“I’ll try to contact him.”
“No. Don’t.”
He rarely reached out unless she did first. Wesley flicked the ash from her cigarette into the tray and skimmed through the remaining reports.
“By the way, this Ian fellow…”
“Yes, Lady Wesley.”
“He should be arriving in the capital soon, right?”
“He’s confirmed to attend the New Year’s gathering.”
“To get here from Bratz, he’d have to pass through the Karenna region, wouldn’t he?”
Karenna—the place where the Astana tribe, who had rejected her experimental proposal and fled, had taken refuge. Summoners were generally secretive and sinister, but most had accepted her offer and were conducting research. Only they had opposed it to the end.
So, she made sure they couldn’t return home.
“King Astana is pathetic. He fled in secret, and they just took his word for it.”
“There was a major earthquake at the time. They probably didn’t have the luxury to care.”
Wesley chewed her cigarette thoughtfully, recalling events from years ago. Though the memories had faded, the chaos still lingered.
Gale is sharp. If he heard they were experimenting on the living, he’d definitely be suspicious.
What choice was there?
They had to be killed. Silenced forever in death, so the secret wouldn’t leak. The aide snapped Wesley out of her reverie, continuing to hand over reports.
“Lady Wesley, here’s the next report.”
“Ah, really, you’re ruining my cigarette.”
“Can’t be helped. With the New Year’s gathering approaching, there’s a lot to approve. This one’s about the Silmad potion, and this is an internal Ministry report on Ian.”
“Are they planning to take him somewhere?”
“Everyone seems reluctant.”
“Yeah. It’s obvious he’s Marib’s offspring. That’s going to be a problem.”
Within the Ministry, countless sub-departments existed. Testing whether Ian was truly a magic user was a priority, but…
“Tell them to prepare for new recruits. I don’t even remember the last time.”
Wesley smiled bitterly and closed the files. The spirits that had been flying around the ceiling dimmed their light and slowly melted back into the darkness.
“Wait, you killed them all? Wesley did that?”
Berrick leaned over the table, fully absorbed. Hasha tapped the floor with her tail, annoyed.
—It wasn’t Wesley. Her subordinates came and turned everything upside down!
At first, summoners who had some acquaintance tried to persuade the old woman and Hasha. They promised money, said that as research progressed, summoners’ status and power would rise, and that the funds would greatly help the impoverished Astana tribe.
Their main goal was to curry favor with Wesley, who held power at the heart of the Great Empire Bariel.
—Grandma paid the price for refusing, and I paid the price for defying the truth.
‘He’s still young, isn’t he?’
‘Hey kid, want to come with us?’
‘No kids among the test subjects yet, right? Let’s try summoning on this one. See if he listens.’
Berrick, who had been quietly listening, rummaged through his pocket. He looked at Ian with something in hand—a scrap of bread he’d scavenged from the warehouse. He clicked his tongue and tossed it to Hasha.
Thud!
“Poor thing. Eat up and get your strength.”
—Who do you think you’re treating like a dog?
When Hasha snapped back, Berrick rolled his eyes in disbelief. No matter how you looked at it, these two were like oil and water.
Ian broke off pieces of bread and offered them to Hasha.
“Aren’t you hungry?”
“Look at this little one—no gratitude, no manners, knows nothing. Crazy.”
“Berrick, I’m surprised you’re lecturing about manners.”
“Hey! I’m still human!”
As the bread neared, Hasha’s nostrils flared. Though she’d scavenged all over the mountains and fields, nothing really suited her human palate. When Ian gestured that it was okay, she swallowed without hesitation.
“Was this dog raised by someone?”
—Yeah. The only living thing in the house that day was ‘Rookie.’ The ritual went wrong, and this happened. Luckily, the summoners thought I had died without drawing power. Something unknown was poured into the well, and I disappeared.
They killed everyone who had been with the Astana outsider. Since they caused the incident, it was only natural they came to investigate. Ian clicked his tongue lightly at the Ministry’s even more serious misconduct.
—My body, trapped by summoning magic, became undead. From the day I clawed out of the grave, I was kept from going anywhere. Then one day, I ran into bandits in the forest. From that moment, my body started moving on its own, against my will.
No matter how much he barked and tugged at the pant leg, he was helpless. This was literally the result of a forbidden curse—no guesses were allowed. Ian frowned and asked again.
“Did they deliberately possess your body?”
—No, I don’t think so. They were just as confused at first. If the village found out, the guards would come. That’s why they killed me twice.
There was no emotion in Hasha’s testimony. He had watched as fists struck his corpse, as swords pierced it.
—Once they realized I was a body that wouldn’t die, they possessed the corpse. After some time, they figured out how to use magic through my body. Every time an undead was created, I opened my inner eye.
That’s how I was able to see the situation through the undead that came to the inn. It was more complicated and troublesome than I expected. Hasha nudged Ian’s side with his moist, blunt snout.
—So, whoever it is, I need someone to deal with my corpse.
That was why he had approached Berrick after watching from the forest. Judging by the long line of carriages, they didn’t look like ordinary people. Also, he knew that bandits nearby were targeting Ian’s carriage.
—I want your help.
Hasha’s voice was filled with determination as he made his request. Berrick, listening, nonchalantly popped a piece of bread into his mouth.
“Honestly, it looks like I’m the one who’s going to have to do the heavy lifting here. Look at how you’re treating me.”
Ian smiled faintly and patted the dog’s head. It wasn’t so much helping as it was a matter of shared interests.
“So, you know where the bandits are now?”
Hasha just needed to find the corpse, and Ian had to find the carriage. Besides, he was the only survivor who had lived through Wesley’s atrocities.
The dog sniffed the air again, wagging his head.
—Of course. After all, I’m Dog Nose now.