Chapter 97
“Hand it over immediately, Miss Mighty!”
Count Arthur roared as he shot up from his seat. His chair clattered and toppled over from the force of his movement.
“Miss Mighty, we asked you politely. Please, set it down first and let’s talk—”
Gray tried to calm the Count, glancing nervously at Miss Mighty. But she ignored them completely and carried on with what she wanted to say.
“I’ve heard there are three relics of the witch. Assad’s Ring is in the Lord’s possession, the Witch’s Compass was so poorly guarded that outsiders managed to steal it, and so this must be… the Golden Key, isn’t it?”
At her words, both men sucked in a sharp breath.
“So the security of the lord’s castle is also quite lax. I thought it was well-hidden, but to think it could be stolen so easily.”
Whirrr—once again the box floated over her palm, and the remaining locks slid open one after another.
“Y-you’ve broken the seals?”
Gray’s eyes darted between the box and Miss Mighty.
“So then? I’d like you to be honest. If I cast a sealing spell on it again, no one would be able to open it.”
It was as much a threat as a statement, and Count Arthur growled back.
“Damn it, I told you! We should just take it to the witch as it is! Hand it over, Miss Mighty. Do you think you’ll be fine after taking Clade’s relic for yourself?”
A strange light flashed in Miss Mighty’s eyes.
“You were planning to bring the relic to the witch?”
Gray sighed heavily, realizing the secret was out. Despite all the secrecy, Miss Mighty clearly already knew about the Golden Key.
There was no time to blame the Count now. Gray hurried to explain.
“We don’t even know if what’s inside is truly the witch’s relic. That’s why we asked you to confirm it, Miss Mighty.”
“I thought I told you to be honest.”
So the witch had requested they bring it to her? Perhaps that had been her intention all along.
At the very least, the fact that Count Arthur and Duke Benton were united in this proved there was a serious reason behind it.
“What’s inside is most likely the Golden Key. Probably.”
“Probably?”
At Miss Mighty’s suspicion, Count Arthur and Gray exchanged glances.
“From now on, you’re on the same boat as us, Miss Mighty.”
“The moment you held the relic, you were no longer innocent either. Heh heh.”
Their grim suggestion and laughter seemed to drag her down.
“The Count went to swear allegiance to the witch. There, she personally asked him for a favor. If he brought her the Golden Key, she would grant him a wish. That is why I helped him.”
He conveniently left out what he stood to gain.
“Only the Lord himself knows about the existence of the third relic. So how is it that you know, Miss Mighty? Did Hannibal tell you?”
Count Arthur blurted out, but Miss Mighty ignored the irrelevant question. Instead, she turned cold eyes on Gray.
“In exchange for helping the Count, you were promised the annulment of Anne Perot’s engagement to her son, weren’t you?”
Duke Benton’s calm mask twisted instantly.
“…Anne was always mine. It’s only natural she should be with me. The Count merely acknowledged her mistake and agreed to help me.”
The Count grumbled beside him, but Gray paid him no mind, focusing solely on persuading Miss Mighty.
“Miss Mighty, there are still many factions in the capital dissatisfied after the recent raid. Even if the peace negotiations in the west proceed smoothly, this matter will surely be raised separately. If you aid us this time, I can help mediate between His Majesty and Luto.”
Miss Mighty’s piercing blue eyes met Gray’s arrogant crimson ones.
The raid on Edith Tara had been an impulsive decision by the king, enraged when the secret pact between Luto and Hyman fell apart.
Though she herself had opposed it, she couldn’t say Hyman bore no responsibility.
But to pin the entire blame on Luto—in front of Luto’s heir, no less?
Miss Mighty’s displeasure showed clearly on her face.
“Speak again when your First Prince actually becomes emperor.”
Her opponent was no more than a twenty-year-old fledgling duke.
Too green for her to even feel like fighting seriously.
Yet, somehow, Gray Benton straightened his back proudly and declared:
“No matter who becomes emperor, a duke’s power remains. Miss Mighty, help us. Whatever you wish in return, I can grant it.”
The nobles of Edith Tara were born with arrogance.
High nobles especially looked down on the western lands as primitive.
Most of them scorned magic, unable to grasp Luto’s system where magical prowess outweighed social rank.
So perhaps it was natural for a duke, second only to royalty, to act with such conceit.
But Gray Benton? He was a bastard son.
In Edith Tara, where lineage was everything, how much power could a bastard truly wield?
And yet, the moment he became duke, he acted as if it were always his birthright. It was baffling.
“Wasn’t your part done once you retrieved the relic?”
“I will accompany the Count to the Witch’s Forest.”
Count Arthur nodded without suspicion, but Miss Mighty’s eyes narrowed.
“You have a way of entering, though you’re not of Clade blood?”
She had tried many times before, but even with her power, she could never enter the Witch’s Forest.
During the Witch’s Night, the oppressive magical energy blanketed the entire west, making it impossible for Luto’s magicians to even approach.
Even then, she had tried, only to be repelled by the overwhelming mana.
And now Gray Benton claimed he could enter?
“Even escorting me to the entrance would be generosity enough from the Duke. Isn’t that so?”
The Count foolishly prattled on, not realizing Gray intended to enter the forest itself.
Miss Mighty caught the resolute gleam in Gray’s eyes and grasped the box with both hands.
Slowly, the box floated between her palms and opened.
“…!”
“Oh, at last—”
Gray’s crimson eyes gleamed at the sight, and Count Arthur gasped, his white hair flying as he exclaimed.
Inside, nestled on a velvet cushion, lay a small key.
Tiny, flat, no bigger than a grown man’s fingernail—a dainty little golden key.
It emitted no glow, no shine. It was just a plain yellow key.
“This is… the Golden Key? So small?”
Count Arthur muttered, disappointed by its unimpressive appearance. Gray too showed visible dismay.
Only Miss Mighty’s fingertips trembled as she gazed at the key.
It was a condensed mass of mana—an ancient power and covenant she had never before encountered.
The strength of the witch and Archmage Assad. Slowly, a smile of pure exhilaration spread across her face.
“Now, hand it over.”
When Gray reached out, Miss Mighty slipped the key back into the box.
Though unsealing it again would be easy, the two men had no way of knowing, and panic spread across their faces.
“Miss Mighty!”
“Why put it back!”
Their shouts filled the room, but Miss Mighty calmly took the box and rose to her feet.
“There are conditions.”
At her refusal to hand it over, Count Arthur’s brow furrowed sharply.
“That’s my family’s relic! You dare to steal it? Do you think I’ll let this go?”
“If the Lord learns that his father conspired with a capital duke to steal the relic, do you think it will be so easily overlooked?”
Hadn’t they said already they were all on the same boat? Miss Mighty smirked faintly.
“What are your conditions?”
Gray asked evenly.
“Bring me Assad’s Ring. I too must go to the Witch’s Forest.”
“…!”
“Are you mad!”
Count Arthur nearly collapsed in shock. Assad’s Ring had never left Hannibal’s hand since birth—it was the very symbol of the lord.
“Impossible, Miss Mighty.”
“And yet you, too, claimed you would enter the Witch’s Forest, though that’s impossible.”
She reached out her hand. A small handkerchief fluttered open, inscribing a magic circle.
“This is a one-use teleportation spell. It will take you straight to the entrance of the Witch’s Forest. On the night after the negotiations, when the moon is at its peak, bring Assad’s Ring there.”
Gray found himself clutching the cloth with the inscribed circle before he knew it.
“I told you, it can’t be done! Miss Mighty, how could we possibly take that from Hannibal!”
Count Arthur raged, but dared not lay a hand on her. He could only stomp his feet.
Gray too glared but made no move against her.
“If you could sneak away the Golden Key, then Assad’s Ring should be no harder. At least that one is always in plain sight.”
With a faint laugh, Miss Mighty turned and left.
“What now, Duke! Didn’t I say we should’ve just taken it!”
Count Arthur collapsed back into his chair, lamenting.
Gray clenched his fists tight, staring blankly at the place she had disappeared.
“We’ll find a way. No matter what.”
Since she had said the night after the negotiations, they had only until then to act. Gray bit his lip until it turned white, steeling his resolve.
