MDCR 35

Chapter  35

The Imperial Chancellor, Duke Berkart, was staring at the slate in front of him. It was a communication slate, specially designed to respond only to the duke’s face. Of course, it wasn’t perfect—it had reacted to Irix’s face last time.

Letters began to appear one by one on the dark slate.

“Reporting. This is Gatra.”

“Go ahead.”

“Irix is safe. She’s unharmed.”

“That’s a relief.”

The letters continued to appear.

“The criminals who attempted to kidnap Your Highness: one is dead, and the others were found severely injured.”

Ah, those guys. They were the ones first used as bait—to justify sending the legion again.

“Did Irix take care of them?”

“According to Your Highness, she only struck lightly. She did not cause harm that could have led to death.”

“Then who did it?”

“They reportedly died on their own.”

Ridiculous. I’m supposed to believe that?

“Your Highness’s friend also said the same. It was an accident.”

Even more surprising. Did I misread it?

“Does that guy even have a friend?” According to the duke, Irix was always alone, only interacting with classmates from a distance, barely exchanging names.

“I’d like to know about that friend, Sir Gatra. How did they become friends?”

“According to Sir Zephyr’s observations, they seem to have first met at the train’s dining car. But that could have been deliberately stated because Sir Zephyr was watching.”

“From the same school?”

“Yes. The friend is a senior. Could it be someone appointed by Your Excellency?”

“That’s possible. What’s their name?”

“Elpini. Listed on the passenger manifest as Elpini Sienira. The departure station was Sanz, one of the Western Line stations.”

A name he had no knowledge of. Sanz was a remote area he had never even visited, and he didn’t recognize the name Elpini nor the surname Sienira.

“Not part of the legion, then. Completely unknown.”

“I also judged they are not part of the legion, as they were a first-class passenger.”

If they were in first class, perhaps a wealthy student. A family that could afford a first-class seat for a child returning to school wasn’t ordinary.

“If first-class, the passenger and purchaser names should be available. Surely the parents bought the ticket, so you could know their names.”

“They could not be determined.”

“Why not?”

“The cabin had been purchased a year ago.”

“Then you could check it now.”

“Apparently, there had been an accident at the document storage facility. They didn’t restore the purchase record because it wasn’t expected to be needed.”

When coincidences pile up, suspicion is natural. Perhaps my son’s new friend is a rather special student.

Who sent them this time? Last time it was the Church; before that, socialites; earlier still, the Emperor’s confidant. Even the Crown Prince has sent someone, though not frequently. If Irix were a daughter, the Crown Prince’s intentions would have been suspect. No, even as a son, one must remain cautious. To deal with the Crown Prince, one must shed prejudice—but I forgot that.

“I’ll ask Irix myself about this.”

“Understood.”

“Good work, Gatra. You are always capable and admirable.”

“No, Your Highness. I have done nothing this time. Everything resolved itself.”

Indeed, that was true. The “birds” used by the Church were actually artificial beasts created by their researchers. They merely tracked people according to the input list. Because they incorporated the traits of corrupted beasts, they were extremely unstable. They reproduced quickly, but a single issue in one bird could instantly affect all others. The duke knew this fatal flaw. So when he learned the Church planned to release these birds in the Grand Canyon, he was certain an accident would occur. The Grand Canyon was home to beasts, including corrupted ones. Naturally, they would react. If corrupted beasts clashed, they would rampage exponentially, attacking and tearing everything apart. The Church had no ability to manage such chaos—thus, Gatra was sent. Only someone of Gatra’s caliber could handle the situation. It could have been a spectacular display: a Church-caused accident resolved by a magician under the duke’s influence, making the Church the guilty party.

Yet, before arrival, it vanished. Completely. Turned to dust. No one in the Church had that capability. Another extraordinarily skilled individual intervened, or it was a natural phenomenon—one of the two. Which one was it?

“Rest now. I’ll rely on you going forward.”

“Understood, Your Highness.”

The connection ended, leaving the slate completely black. The duke pushed it aside and leaned back in his chair. Whether a rare natural event or a prodigious individual’s act, his plan had failed. What a pity. This was his chance to infiltrate the Church, to witness its true hidden face. A dangerous attempt, but worth the risk. Yet, it ended in failure.

“What a waste.”

Still, the duke was efficient. No regrets over failure—think of the next step. For now… let’s consider Irix’s friend.

“Elpini…” I must meet them. Determine their affiliation, who sent them, or if they truly are Irix’s friend. If sent by someone, their intentions must be known; if a true friend…

“Perhaps I should throw a congratulatory party.” The party would be called: “My child has made a friend!”

“……”
“……”

Irix was still wearing the women’s gown provided in the cabin. This time it wasn’t the empress’s, but likely a maid’s. The empress’s gown had been torn. Irix hesitated to remove it, but thankfully, Maimon found a maid’s gown and brought it. It was very large, fitting Irix even better than the empress’s gown.

Yet there was still a problem—the gown, being designed for someone taller than Irix, ended above her knees. She had to move carefully.

“They said it can’t be altered.” Irix lifted her clothes as she returned, showing them. “They said it can’t even be washed.”

Indeed, the outfit couldn’t be repaired, let alone washed. This luxury garment, made by a highly skilled tailor, was too delicate for the train’s repair staff. They gave up immediately. It returned as tattered as before, skipping the repair stage entirely. Now Irix had nothing to wear the moment she disembarked.

“Then buy something immediately when we get off.”

“But I have nothing to wear to go buy clothes.” I looked at Zephyr, but he ignored me. Kind-hearted Maimon offered his shirt for her to wear, but Irix shook her head.

“Your clothes are too small.”

“Then send Maimon to fetch new clothes.” Irix glanced at me, spoke quickly and quietly:

“If I were a senior, would I make Maimon do it?”

“…No.”

Irix looked at Zephyr. He raised his hand decisively.

“I am one of Your Excellency’s secretaries, not Your Highness’s servant. I have no obligation to bring clothes for Your Highness, nor any inclination to do so.”

He meant he could not and would not help, and he had no sympathy for the awkward situation. Meanwhile, the destination drew closer. The Capital, the largest and most magnificent city in the Empire, awaited. Wearing that outfit, all eyes would be on her.

I started rifling through Elpini’s clothes bag.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for something suitable.”

“How can I wear a senior’s clothes?” Irix looked incredulous—and rightly so. She was three times Elpini’s size.

“I found something. Wait… ah, here it is.” I pulled out a loose, hooded garment—baggy, sack-like. Almost like a monk’s robe.

Irix eyed it suspiciously.

“Why do you have something like this? Looks like what monastery workers wear to handle hay.”

I didn’t know. The only person who knew was Elpini, and he had vanished leaving no memory.

“Try it on. It’s the best option for now.”

“Looking like a monk?”

“Better than wearing that gown and looking like a pervert.”