Chapter 327: Poison in the Lungs

Count Karlov Hosman stood at the center of the grand banquet hall, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he watched the expressions of surprise and admiration on the faces of his invited guests.

As always, he was the focal point of the evening, the center of every gaze.

With a poised and graceful smile, his eyes swept over each face in the room: Viscount Carol, Lady Grant, Count Peipo—these were heavyweights indeed. Beyond them, many other gentlemen and ladies of pure blood and honor from the southern territories had gathered. Some had already inherited their titles; others were key heirs or influential representatives of their families. Gathering such a distinguished assembly was no small feat, especially in the biting cold of winter. Their very presence was a testament to the enduring influence of the Hosman name in the South. And to further cement the authority his family wielded, Count Hosman had prepared a feast worthy of the occasion.

What he had painstakingly secured—through a combination of hefty expense and a stroke of luck—was the magic network technology.

Applause broke out. Count Karlov Hosman smiled modestly, waiting for the clapping to subside before gently raising his glass. “I must admit,” he began, “that ancestor of mine who returned from the dead was a remarkable man. He created something incredible—perhaps with a little ‘help’ from some foreign friends. Regardless, the magic network is astonishing, and such a marvel should be shared with everyone.”

A nobleman in a deep blue velvet coat smoothly picked up the thread. “If I recall correctly, Duke Cecil never forbade the spread of the magic network. It’s said that with Viscount Leslie’s endorsement, anyone willing to pay handsomely could have craftsmen sent from Cecil’s domain to help build the network—or even devices based on it.”

“Of course,” Count Hosman raised his glass in salute to the nobleman, then shook his head with a smile. “But that comes at a steep price! Our founding duke practically hauls gold coins out of our castles by the cartload. More importantly, relying on others for such technology is inherently risky, isn’t it? Cecil’s domain will send craftsmen to help build the network, but it’s less ‘help’ and more ‘holding the technology tightly in their grasp.’ If the network breaks or needs expanding, we have to pay again to bring those craftsmen back. Compared to this seemingly endless investment, wouldn’t it be far wiser to have the technology to build the magic network ourselves?”

“Indeed,” Count Peipo, a man with light golden curls and a slightly portly frame, stepped forward with a smile. “My old friend, how exactly did you get your hands on that technology?”

“A bit of luck,” Count Karlov replied calmly. “I happened to meet two rune craftsmen who once worked on the magic network in Tansan Town. They were looking for better prospects and brought with them blueprints and some construction techniques. For safety, I had my scholars and mage advisors oversee the trial runs. The results were satisfactory—I’ve built a functioning magic network with efficiency on par with the mining network in Leslie’s domain. You can look up at the magic crystal lamps in this castle, and if you have the chance, I invite you to visit the magic tower behind the castle—they’re all powered by the magic network now!”

“The mages in my lands would be very interested!”

“I’m interested myself—I’m a mage, after all.”

“Count Hosman, how do you plan to… ‘share’ these achievements with us?”

One after another, nobles gathered around, offering compliments and genuine curiosity about the magic network. They all knew about the recent changes in Leslie’s domain. Though many grumbled about Viscount Andrew Leslie’s complete allegiance to the Cecil family, they had to admit that the mines in Tansan Town had flooded the southern markets with ore, crushing competition with massive output and low costs. Several southern nobles who once rivaled the Leslies in the ore trade were now struggling.

They all wanted the same mining equipment and magic network systems, but the price was daunting. More than that, they were wary of the rapidly expanding Cecil domain and reluctant to become too entangled—especially with foundational technology like the magic network.

Now that Count Hosman had successfully “stolen” the magic network, how could they not be tempted?

Though mining equipment still required a hefty purchase from Leslie’s or Cecil’s domains, at least half the problem—the energy supply—was solved.

The nobles might be mediocre in many ways, but they were not fools. They understood the difference between the magic network and mining magic devices—the latter were mere magical tools, replaceable and costly only in money. The former was the foundation. If their lands’ energy depended on craftsmen from elsewhere, they would never feel secure. Only by mastering the network’s construction themselves could they confidently use it.

But while the nobles clustered eagerly around Count Hosman, a tall, slender figure quietly slipped away from the banquet hall.

Viscount Carol, dressed in a black wool coat, sporting a thin beard and crystal monocle, carried his wine glass as he weaved through the bustling servers and stepped out into the corridor beyond the hall. He sighed softly.

The castle was indeed brighter than before. This was not his first visit to Count Hosman’s estate. He noticed many new magic crystals lining the corridors, the courtyard, even the outer walls of the main building. With ample magical energy, the bright lights made the ancient castle shimmer like crystal. Hosman had not lied—he had truly acquired the magic network technology and wasted no time applying it to his home.

Carol gazed at the courtyard bathed in light. The brilliance dimmed the stars overhead. His eyes wandered casually—and then he realized he was not alone outside the hall.

A slender woman stood not far off, dressed in a black court gown and wide-brimmed black hat. Her clothing was thin, but a faint magical shield shimmered around her, warding off the winter chill.

Lady Ropeni Grant—the wealthiest, and perhaps the most unfortunate widow in the South.

“Lady Ropeni,” Viscount Carol approached with his glass, “you shouldn’t stand out here alone on such a cold night. Don’t you find the hall stuffy?”

“Please address me by my title and surname, Viscount,” Ropeni Grant shot him a glance. Her deep-set eyes and high cheekbones gave her a striking, if somewhat wan, beauty. Though her health and spirits were clearly declining, she still held undeniable allure for many young noblemen. “This is a formal banquet.”

“But we’re outside the banquet hall,” Carol smiled. When his light joke went unanswered, he smoothly changed the subject. “So, Lady Grant, aren’t you interested in the magic network?”

“Count Hosman just wants someone to flatter him. Once the flattery’s done, the real money talk begins. I have no intention of wasting time or energy before that,” Ropeni said sharply, her tone as biting as ever. “Honestly, I’m not very interested in the magic network. If Hosman’s price isn’t right, I’ll simply leave.”

Carol chuckled. “I understand. Lady Grant, you’re waiting to go home.”

Mention of her only daughter softened Ropeni’s expression slightly. She glanced at Carol casually. “And you? Aren’t you interested in the magic network?”

Carol thought for a moment, then made an exaggerated, troubled face. “Honestly, I am interested—but I dare not be.”

Ropeni’s curiosity was piqued. “Oh?”

“Anything from Cecil’s domain reeks of something strange,” Carol lowered his voice just enough to be heard clearly. His subtle way of speaking always worked wonders in stirring curiosity. “Have you noticed? The South is flooded with new gadgets from Cecil’s lands—alchemy potions, magic networks, mining machines, even their minted coins. Almost overnight, before anyone realized, Gawain Cecil was everywhere…”

He paused, spreading his hands. “Including me—I see Gawain Cecil’s face countless times every day… when counting money.”

Ropeni’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “I’m fine—I only like the kingdom’s silver and gold shields.”

“You see, you have a sense of humor,” Carol complimented her, then raised his glass and looked toward the courtyard. “Many don’t realize this infiltration, but I feel a sense of crisis… Cecil’s ‘new toys’ are too convenient, too cost-effective. No one can resist them. But you know, the deadliest poisons are always disguised as the sweetest temptations. Those marvelous creations from Gawain Cecil, to me, are nothing less than a poison…”

As he spoke, Carol’s gaze casually swept over the soldiers in the courtyard. Among the keen eyes of a low-ranking knight, he spotted a small crystal vial peeking from a Hosman soldier’s belt pouch.

The vial bore Cecil’s emblem.

“We’ve already been poisoned to the core.”

Ropeni looked at Carol. “Then will you refuse this poison?”

Carol was silent for a moment, then smiled. “Sometimes, poison can be a cure—so long as it’s under our control. Just like now, I’m about to return to the banquet hall and enter the ‘real money’ phase with Count Hosman.”

(End of chapter)