Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Siegfried still ignored Elizabeth, only asking Marvey, "Now that you've arrived in Varn, what do you plan to do next?"

Marvey stretched lazily, took off his hat, and scratched his sparse hair with some frustration. "Well, I can't go back to the Eternal City for now, so I'll just have to continue my 'outside research.'"

"Research?"

Marvey answered breezily, "I've nearly traveled through all of the Empire's territory. Next, I plan to explore the lands of the rebels. I've realized... the stories here are far more interesting than those of the Empire."

"Do you have money?" Siegfried asked bluntly.

"No," Marvey chuckled. "But don't worry about me. I never starve, no matter where I am—I can play the lyre, you know."

The two carried on their conversation, leaving Elizabeth the sole party ignored, which made her feel an inexplicable sense of grievance.

Since the beast fight in Castile, Siegfried's attitude toward Elizabeth had suddenly grown cold—though, to be fair, it had never been warm outwardly—but Elizabeth could feel the extinguishing of the flames beneath Siegfried's icy facade.

As always, Elizabeth's pride wouldn't allow her to admit defeat, but a part of her heart was undeniably hollowed out.

At this moment, Siegfried's deliberate indifference made Elizabeth both aggrieved and unusually angry. Tears escaped unwillingly as she struggled furiously, shouting, "Let go of me! Let go of me!"

Noticing the curious glances from those around them, Siegfried released her. Elizabeth didn't run but instead began to sob softly.

"Why are you crying?" Marvey asked curiously, unable to resist a teasing remark. "Like a girl!"

Siegfried frowned upon hearing this, staring at Marvey intently for a moment before exhaling deeply with a long sigh. At this point, the Earl was plagued with a splitting headache.

Just as Siegfried was struggling to say, "Please don't cry, Your Highness," a sudden commotion erupted outside the banquet hall.

Hoofbeats, shouts, and even the faint sound of firearms.

The grand doors of Saint Andre Hall were burst open. A squad of armed and imposing Allied Army officers stormed into the room.

On the western side of the hall, Lionel, the Secretary-General, who witnessed the scene, exhaled deeply.

For the first time, his tense shoulders and back relaxed. The madness and sharpness in his eyes faded away, making him seem ten years older in an instant, yet his expression bore an unprecedented look of relief.

Lionel picked up the first glass of wine from the table, looked directly into the eyes of Debela, the Governor, and smiled as he proposed a toast: "Farewell, Your Excellency the Governor—here's to our demise."

With those words, the Secretary-General downed his drink in one gulp and strode toward the uninvited guests.

The sudden turn of events caught everyone off guard. On the other side of the hall, Richard, the natural leader among the Empire's citizens present, was the first to face the intruders directly.

"This is the Empire's consulate!" Earl Varez demanded, "State your purpose!"

The leading officer, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword, his face obscured under an iron helmet, replied, "Don't interfere. We're just here to take one person."

"[Old Tongue] Everyone here is our guest," Prince Richard responded calmly. "[Old Tongue] If you intend to take someone, you'll have to gain my consent first."

A cold voice came from behind: "No need for alarm, gentlemen. They're here for me."

The crowd of elegantly dressed men and women parted, revealing Johann Lionel, dressed in plain black, stepping forward alone.

The officers moved immediately to apprehend him but were blocked by the prince's attendants. The atmosphere turned sharply tense, and the banquet hall grew silent enough to hear a pin drop.

"Lord Lionel," Prince Richard stepped between the soldiers and the Secretary-General, extending an invitation to the latter, "You are my guest. I am willing to offer you all the protection you might need. Here, you are safe."

"No need, Your Highness," Lionel replied with a cold smile, rejecting the offer without hesitation. "I'd rather let them take me."

With those words, Lionel strode directly toward the armed officers and asked, "Do you intend to bind me?"

The leading officer hesitated before saluting formally. "No need. Please, come with us... I promise, you will be treated justly."

"I don't care about fair treatment." Lionel's piercing gaze locked onto the officer leading the squad. "I only want you to answer one question—who betrayed me?"

The officer remained silent, saluting once more. "Your Excellency, please come with us."

Lionel repeated his question, word by word, "Who betrayed me?"

"Your Excellency." The officer, unwilling to resort to force yet unable to answer directly, pleaded again. "Please come with us."

"Who?" Lionel's bloodshot eyes gleamed with madness as the frenzied look returned to his face. Gritting his teeth, he demanded, "Who betrayed me?"

"No one betrayed you, Mr. Lionel." A deep, magnetic voice rang out from beyond the doorway. "It is you who betrayed all of us."

Richard Mayerhaus—the Assistant Chief Secretary of the Federated Provinces, Johann Lionel's most trusted deputy—entered Saint Andre Hall.

Beneath the grand dome, everyone who recognized Mayerhaus was struck with unprecedented shock; those who didn't immediately scrambled to inquire about the identity of this stranger.

Amidst the chaos and disorder, only Marvey's eyes sparkled with excitement, his breathing quickened. He clung tightly to the arms of Elizabeth and Siegfried, repeatedly exclaiming with exhilaration, "Look! Look! Isn't this story playing out right here far more thrilling than the schemes of those nobles in the Eternal City?!"