Chapter 85
The reaction was immediate and violent. The light radiating from the device flickered dangerously, like a candle caught in a gale. Soon after, the now all-too-familiar headache struck. The sudden pain was sharp enough to bring tears to her eyes.
Étienne pulled his hand away from the tracker and staggered back. It was an instinctive move. In his ears, his heartbeat thundered.
It had been just a single drop. Optimistically speaking, the tiny amount meant the tracker was still working, albeit erratically. On the other hand, it also meant that such a small dose was enough to destabilize divine power so severely.
Taking deep breaths to steady himself, Étienne carefully brought a second vial over the device.
Drip. A trace of Schatten fell onto it.
The result was exactly the same. A crushing pain in his head. Normally, Étienne hardly thought of the tracker as a tool powered by divine energy. But conducting this experiment made the effects of disrupted divine power on the body impossible to ignore.
He leaned back slowly, letting out a sigh. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead. He had just uncovered proof that Léonard, driven by ambition, had attempted to eliminate his own comrades.
But the evidence was still insufficient. As it stood, Léonard could easily wriggle free. If he claimed he hadn’t known what the drug was, or that he had mistaken it for water before passing it to Fabert, Étienne had no way to prove otherwise.
In wartime, even circumstantial evidence could be grounds for harsh punishment—but only if the accused was not the scion of a powerful noble house.
Étienne didn’t need to run through complex political calculations fit for someone like Mia to know what would happen. If Léonard were executed on “uncertain” evidence, Marquis Léonard would revolt. And if the emperor accepted his protests at face value, the resulting reckless orders were easy to imagine.
Bending beneath his desk, Étienne pulled out the pile of parchments he had put aside.
Even through bloodshot eyes, his strikingly handsome face scanned over battle records from a few months back.
“Twenty men led by Mortimer Léonard engaged in combat in the forest while advancing toward Brandorf. Enemy numbers estimated at 1.4 times ours. Victory achieved with the aid of reinforcements under Xavier Lambert. Twelve seriously wounded, no deaths.”
A chill drained from his body. It wasn’t the dawn air seeping into the tent that caused it.
Étienne reached for a nearby meeting journal. The luxurious leather binding felt soft beneath his fingers. Struggling to calm his unsettled mind, he brushed the cover several times before opening it. Flipping through the pages, he quickly found the record he sought.
“12th Strategy Conference. As proposed by Mia Blanchard, remain in Raven for the time being. Once it is deemed that Veridian’s economy has been sufficiently disrupted, advance on Brandorf. It is confirmed the region has coniferous forests, which will be advantageous for concealment. Approach under cover of the woods.”
This had been the final set of minutes before Léonard’s demotion.
Suddenly, his breath caught in his throat.
Like all other operations, that meeting had been classified. Étienne remembered clearly: only the highest-ranking officers, Léonard included, had been present, since reconnaissance findings had to be shared.
Étienne retraced what had happened since they stepped foot in Veridian.
Most of the soldiers defending Fort Brandorf had supposedly abandoned their posts to work as mercenaries for merchants, yet the ambush planned by Étalon had been blocked by just the right number of enemy forces.
Though there was no reason the emperor would have failed to send supplies, none ever reached them once they entered Raven. If not for Mia’s foresight in purchasing provisions and devices to prevent spoilage, the entire corps might well have starved to death.
It was as if the enemy had been forewarned. And throughout all this, Veridian’s main forces never even showed themselves.
No one but a figure at the very heart of their command could have known such information. Someone like François Léonard, the former vice commander.
Étienne had been investigating these matters separately, but if he tied them all back to Léonard, the explanation became startlingly simple. Piece by piece, it formed decisive evidence—evidence so clear that he wondered how he had failed to see it before.
Though Léonard no longer had authority to attend strategy meetings, his demotion had stemmed from a quarrel with Marquis Ahn, not suspicion of treason. Which meant that operations decided while he still held office were carried out without modification.
For example: the route from Glen to Raven to Brandorf, the number of troops assigned to the advance, even the marching formations.
The later decision to summon troops from Glen explained why the enemy had been driven back by reinforcements upon their arrival at Brandorf.
Why had all this happened? Or perhaps it was fortunate he realized now, at least.
The divine energy radiating from the tracker had long since stabilized, yet a dull headache pressed in once more.
Organizing the evidence, he drew up charts comparing the times of their strategy sessions to the enemy’s movements.
Even excluding the most obvious ambushes, suspicious circumstances abounded. Considering also the existence of the strange drug Léonard had used, the correlation between his actions and the enemy’s was undeniable.
Étienne’s hands trembled slightly. Was it the sting of betrayal from something he had half-expected, or sheer exhaustion? It was hard to tell.
As the first light of dawn seeped into the tent, Étienne leaned back with another sigh.
This could no longer be dismissed as a mere lapse in security. It was systematic treachery orchestrated by a high-ranking officer—an act that endangered countless soldiers and placed the entire legion in jeopardy.
The evidence of Léonard’s betrayal lay stacked before him. If so much had come to light in a single night, surely even more would be uncovered with deeper digging.
But Mia was absent, Fabert was incapacitated, and the one former vice commander who still retained a shred of trust was now imprisoned. Étienne knew unveiling this would shake the corps to its core.
Yet there was no longer any question of showing leniency to Léonard, nor of allowing him to regain influence within the army. Setting aside his own sense of betrayal, the matter clearly warranted immediate execution. Keeping him alive was too dangerous.
The weight of responsibility pressed heavily upon Étienne.
The term “educational facility” was no mere empty façade. Taking a moment to steady her breathing and look around, Mia saw rows of students of varying ages seated before a podium.
Some were close to Chloe’s age, nearly adults, while others in the front row looked no older than ten.
Their behavior differed as much as their ages. The only pattern lay not in their years but in their seating.
In the front row, closest to where the priest stood, sat students with vacant expressions. Their unfocused eyes, unnaturally dilated pupils, and waxy pallor resembled the symptoms of brainwashing Mia had already witnessed several times on her way here.
Some swayed lightly in their seats, but it seemed less like childish restlessness and more like they were being tugged by an invisible current.
Further back, however, the atmosphere changed noticeably. Students huddled together in small groups. Their faces, twisted by faint fear, looked almost grotesque.
A boy gripped his desk so tightly his knuckles blanched white. Girls whispered hurriedly among themselves—hardly the kind of fervent praise for the goddess one would expect. Clearly, they did not fully believe the stories told by the temple.
As they waited, a tall, gaunt man appeared. Though Mia had never seen Veridian’s high priest before, the lavish extravagance of his attire left little doubt.
This was the high priest.
He paced the front of the stage. The elaborate embroidery of sacred symbols on his robe and the fine material that swept down to his ankles clashed with Veridian’s ruined economy. Ceremony warranted fine garb, of course, but to justify such opulence in these times stretched reason.
Mia’s eyes dropped to the staff in his hand. The ornate craftsmanship and costly crystal embellishments aside, something about it was strange.
A staff was unnecessary for channeling divine power. Then what purpose did it serve?
Before she could ponder further, the priest opened his mouth to speak.
