Chapter 141: The Cultist’s True Identity

Hearing a voice behind her, the veiled woman turned around. She saw a sharp-eared half-elf standing not far off, clutching a large bag of roasted beans. The half-elf was crunching away suspiciously as she eyed the woman.

“You can… see me?” Melita Bernia, the veiled woman, looked at the half-elf with some surprise. She remembered this half-elf from a brief encounter before. As a senior agent of the Mithril Vault, her memory was sharp. She knew exactly how strong this half-elf guard was—and frankly, this half-elf was only slightly better than a goose. How could she possibly see her so easily?

“Is it that hard to see you?” Amber munched on the beans, still puzzled by the veiled woman’s unusual appearance compared to the rest of the camp. Curiosity was written all over her face. “By the way, who exactly are you? A traveling merchant? Finally, some traders are willing to come here?”

Amber’s mind somehow jumped to the idea of merchants…

“Merchant… well, if you put it that way, it’s not a bad description,” Melita smiled, casually dispelling her invisibility and mental suggestion spells. Luckily, no one else was nearby; otherwise, the townsfolk passing by would have caused quite a stir at seeing a sudden apparition on the street. “You’re Duke Gawain Cecil’s guard, right? Please lead the way—I’m here to discuss some business with him.”

“Oh, sure,” Amber said, popping two more beans into her mouth before stepping forward and holding out a hand. “That’ll be three copper coins.”

Melita froze. “Why?”

“Guiding fee,” Amber replied between crunches.

Melita blinked. “Interested in working for the Mithril Vault?”

“Huh?” Amber paused, then the words “Mithril Vault” snapped her back to reality. She suddenly remembered something and quickly stepped several paces back from Melita. “Ah! The Mithril Vault! I remember you now! We met before!”

“That’s me,” Melita smiled, finding the half-elf’s startled reactions quite entertaining. “Your lord invited me here, so do you still want a guiding fee?”

“Tch, I was hoping for some extra cash—working as that old man’s lackey and not even earning a delivery fee, what a rip-off,” Amber muttered under her breath, then waved her hand. “Alright, alright, follow me. I’ll take you to him.”

Following Amber’s lead, Melita soon reached the heart of the territory. A large tent stood in the center of a clearing, with foundations already laid nearby. Piles of bricks, wood, and stone were stacked to the side, clearly preparing for a big building.

“He’s inside the tent. Shouldn’t be napping at this hour,” Amber strode toward the tent. “Wait here; I’ll go notify him.”

Moments later, Melita heard Amber’s loud voice from inside: “Gawain! That agent called ‘my little pony’ is here to see you!”

Melita frowned in confusion. Why did these people pronounce things so oddly?

Gawain had been waiting many days for this agent’s visit. Today, she finally arrived—still dressed much like before, in a peculiar sheer gown with a pale purple veil covering her face, exuding an air of mystery and elegance.

Amber had spotted this agent wandering near the brick kiln, and before that, no one had reported any outsiders entering the territory.

Truly, this was a young lady wrapped in mystery.

“Long time no see, Miss Melita,” Gawain stood from behind the table, smiling. “I thought you’d take forever to arrive, given how inconvenient travel is here. Please, have a seat.”

“The Mithril Vault always has its ways,” Melita smiled back. “And I’m glad you finally pronounced my name correctly.”

Gawain looked a bit embarrassed. “Haha… don’t get too confident. I might mess it up again next time.”

“You’re quite the witty duke,” Melita said with a polite bow.

She still kept her veil on, but Gawain didn’t seem to mind. He simply looked at the agent from the Mithril Vault with curiosity. “I hear you’ve been ‘touring’ my lands? What do you think?”

“It’s a very nice place, better than I expected. And there are many… unusual magical devices,” Melita said frankly. “But what puzzles me more is this—you still live in a tent, yet the common folk already have wooden houses. That’s odd.”

“Those are mostly workshops or housing for technicians. Infrastructure has to come first,” Gawain explained. “As for this tent… you probably noticed the large empty plot next to it. This tent will be taken down soon.”

Melita’s eyes widened slightly. “I thought that was a barracks for knights and soldiers. So you don’t plan to build a castle for yourself?”

“I’ll do that when conditions allow. Building one now would be a waste,” Gawain waved his hand. “Enough about that—let’s get down to business.”

“Of course,” Melita remembered her purpose. “May I see the ring you obtained?”

Gawain immediately pulled out the mithril ring taken from the cultist and placed it on the table before her.

The moment Melita saw the silver-white ring, her eyes narrowed and her expression turned serious. It was clearly genuine.

She picked up the ring, examined it carefully, and traced the intricate encrypted patterns inside. Then she brought it to her lips and whispered a few syllables.

The sounds were faint and indistinct. Gawain quickly realized they weren’t ordinary spell words. The low murmuring didn’t even sound human. As the syllables fell, the ring’s surface shimmered with a hazy glow and trembled slightly.

After more than ten seconds, the effects faded.

Having completed what seemed like a special identification spell, Melita exhaled softly—but her tone remained grave. “No doubt about it… this is a Mithril Vault VIP token. Its owner is Bard Wendell.”

“Bard Wendell?” Gawain frowned. He didn’t recognize many contemporary big names, but he was familiar with many noble family names. “Wendell… I’ve heard that name. One of the reckless youths from the group that went east was named Wendell.”

“That’s right. Bard Wendell is a scion of the Wendell family of the Typhon Empire,” Melita’s gaze grew serious. “You should know the Wendell family, like your Cecil family, is ancient and noble. The current Duke Ferdinand Wendell is the Typhon Empire’s most powerful ‘Knight Lord’ and the former ‘Wolf General.’ Bard is the descendant you called the ‘reckless youth.’”

“Knight Lord?” Gawain frowned. “Is that the kind of lord I know?”

“No, that’s a unique title created after the Typhon Empire’s military reforms,” Melita explained casually. “In recent decades, the Typhon Empire has undergone multiple reforms, especially in the military. They reorganized all knights, warriors, mages, and other extraordinary fighters into a professional ‘Imperial Legion’ rather than relying on noble private armies. The Knight Lord commands the legion’s knight corps.”

Gawain had only asked casually but was surprised to hear this. He furrowed his brow. “The Typhon Empire has established a professional, formal legion of extraordinary fighters?!”

“Yes,” Melita nodded matter-of-factly. “That’s why their military strength has grown so rapidly.”

“…Those lazy nobles in the capital,” Gawain clenched his fist unconsciously. “I never heard a word about this in Ansu, not even when I asked the nobles there!”

“Ah, they probably aren’t completely ignorant of what’s happening in neighboring countries, but why they choose to ignore it is another matter,” Melita shrugged. “We can discuss these state-level issues later. Let’s get back to the cultist and the ring.”

“Alright,” Gawain relaxed his fist. “What’s Bard Wendell’s relationship to the current Duke Ferdinand Wendell?”

“Bard Wendell is Duke Ferdinand’s only son and the former Wolf General,” Melita said deliberately. “Most importantly, he disappeared over a decade ago.”

Gawain’s expression turned strange. “The Wendell heir, a general of the Typhon Empire, would certainly be a major client of the Mithril Vault. But… the one I saw in Tansan Town was a fifth-level corrupted druid!”

The difference between those identities was huge. Gawain couldn’t connect the two. He glanced at the ring in Melita’s hand and shook his head instinctively. “Now I’m starting to suspect that cultist stole or found this ring.”

“Unfortunately, your suspicion is unfounded,” Melita shook her head. “I’ve checked thoroughly. Aside from your contact, no one else unqualified has touched this ring. In other words, it has remained on Bard Wendell’s finger all along, never changing hands.

“The fifth-level corrupted druid you saw… is Bard Wendell himself.”

Gawain was stunned into silence.

But soon, several details flashed through his mind:

During their previous encounters with the cultist, the man instinctively fought in close combat. Even though he had powerful dark magic, he preferred to hide in the shadows and strike with sword and dagger.

In battle, the cultist displayed extremely skilled swordsmanship, clearly very experienced with blades.

His weapon was a one-handed sword—the same type wielded by Tyrian Wendell from the eastern expedition. Their sword styles seemed very similar, likely passed down through the same lineage…

(End of chapter)