Chapter Sixty-Two: More Trustworthy Than You

“Pop!” Prosius snapped her fingers crisply, and at last, Ist, who had been restrained to the side, regained his freedom. He moved his numb arms slightly, and, feeling somewhat dejected, lowered his head and retreated behind Chelsberg. A second-tier Grand Soul Master, yet in front of Prosius, he was manipulated as easily as a child—no wonder Ist wore such an expression.

“Well then, Lord Count, give us a clear answer, will you?” Prosius now stood firmly on Weir’s side, pointing her smoking pipe at Chelsberg’s nose, her tone impatient.

“Answer? What answer?” Chelsberg jerked his head up, as if suddenly awakened from a dream, and questioned Prosius in confusion.

That cunning fat man! At such a time, he still tried to feign ignorance.

Prosius, clearly displeased, snorted coldly. A powerful pressure surged out from her, and under its force, Chelsberg’s face turned crimson, struggling for breath. Ist, behind him, prepared to intervene but was instantly immobilized again by Prosius’s binding spell, trapped helplessly.

“Prosius!...I think...there’s something you must understand!” Chelsberg gasped for air, his face flushed, and called out to Prosius with difficulty, “The matter of the artifact...has not yet reached the Imperial Capital...”

“Hm? What do you mean?” Prosius paused at his words, and in that instant, the oppressive aura abruptly vanished.

With the pressure gone, Chelsberg collapsed to the ground, disregarding his dignity, gulping for air until he finally calmed himself.

“I can hold back the news of the artifact from reaching the capital. That way, the royal family’s forces won’t be able to act for a time. The reason they covet the artifact is simply because they fear that, should the Soul Temple obtain it, they could further incite religious fervor among the people, undermining the royal family’s rule. So, as long as the Soul Temple does not possess the artifact, it is, to the royal family, a dispensable thing. Their ultimate goal in acquiring it is merely to suppress the Soul Temple—nothing more.”

“Nothing more!?”

When Weir saw how casually Chelsberg spoke of the matter, a sudden urge to knock him flat welled up inside him! The implication was all too clear: the Magic Guild would venture to compete with the Soul Temple, while the royal family would remain uninvolved, watching from the sidelines. If the guild succeeded, all would be well; if not, the Magic Guild would merely serve as a pathfinder, and the royal family would step in afterward.

Cunning fat man!

Weir ground his teeth, turning to glance at Prosius, for in such a moment, the final say rested with her.

“Do you know where the artifact is?”

Surprisingly, Prosius did not bother with trivialities, but asked directly where the artifact was. In other words, she agreed!

But wasn’t this too swift? No deliberation, no hesitation, not even a question about the dangers of the place—she simply made her decision?

Weir sighed helplessly. He was unsure whether to call her reckless or simply too confident.

Then, the fat man divulged to Prosius all he knew about the artifact.

“Excellent!” Prosius laughed lightly, nodded, and extended her slender fingers in a gentle wave. Ist, thus released, regained his freedom.

“Now, Weir and I will return to the capital to prepare, and as for you…” Prosius dragged out the word, pointing her pipe at Chelsberg’s nose.

“Rest assured, I won’t return to the capital. I’ll go stay for a while at the old estate in Weilan, and tend to business there…”

The Weilan Chelsberg spoke of was one of the three main regions of the Vela Empire: Weilan, Bilan, and Wolan. The Chelsberg family’s enterprises spanned the entire magical continent, so it was natural for them to have holdings in Weilan.

After Chelsberg had explained everything about the artifact to Prosius, he departed for Weilan accompanied by Ist. Watching their figures gradually vanish into the depths of the forest, Weir finally turned to Prosius and asked, “Is that fat man’s story credible?”

“It is,” Prosius replied, glancing at Weir with a strange tone. “At least, he’s more trustworthy than you—full of lies, you child!...”

“Uh…”

.......................................

“Milord, are we really heading to Weilan?” Ist looked at the path ahead that led to Weilan and questioned Chelsberg in confusion.

“Why wouldn’t we?” Chelsberg turned to glance at Ist, and a sharp gleam flashed in his slit-like eyes. “Given the current state of the Vela Empire, it’s hardly wise to risk conflict with the Soul Temple. In fact, we should avoid it if possible. Shifting this matter onto the Magic Guild—isn’t that a good thing?”

“The current state of the Empire? Milord, is something about to happen to the Vela Empire?” Ist scratched his head, a hint of puzzlement on his face. Though he was Chelsberg’s confidant, not everything was shared with him.

“Heh, enough, my dear Ist. Don’t overthink it. Sometimes, avoiding all those troublesome matters is the greatest happiness. Besides, with Prosius and Makro Jack in the Magic Guild, I doubt this affair will pose much difficulty for them…”

As he spoke, Chelsberg stretched lazily. “Next, consider this a chance for a little outing. It’s been ages since I left the capital for a walk… By the way, Ist, don’t we have a carriage or something? Are you expecting a count like me to walk from the capital to Weilan?”

In a moment, Chelsberg reverted to his typical arrogant, self-satisfied persona, squinting his eyes and casting orders to Ist, who, accustomed to such behavior, dutifully attended to each of the count’s requests.