Chapter 19: The Conspiracy

In Anselm's study, several maids were busy packing his luggage.

"Savile," Anselm called out, stretching his arms after signing off on the final document for the day, "how are our two viscounts doing?"

"That's exactly what I was about to report to you, Young Master," Savile replied, bowing slightly.

"Viscount Lundbeck and Viscount Howlingwinds are both showing signs of anxiety, especially Viscount Lundbeck, who fears he might not be able to wait for your arrival."

"Hmm?"

Anselm leaned back in his chair, tapping the desk with his finger: "When was this?"

"Half an hour ago, through your private communication," the old man said softly. "You were dealing with the affairs of Scarletfrost at the time, so I responded on your behalf."

"Unable to wait for me..." Anselm murmured Savile's words and couldn't help but laugh, "This world is truly absurd, isn't it, Savile?"

"They fear death when it comes from others, yet they eagerly await the death I bring."

"Because you are merciful," Savile responded calmly, his voice filled with conviction.

As if the absurd notion of "merciful death" made perfect sense to him.

"In that case," Anselm said, gripping his snake-headed cane and standing up to walk towards the balcony.

The young noble, whose reputation in Scarletfrost territory had reached an incredible height, chuckled, "We can't keep them waiting. Failing to keep one's promise is a great disgrace for Hydra."

From the balcony, Anselm gazed upon the courtyard, where the gifts from the commoners of Scarletfrost City were meticulously arranged in a neat display.

Each day, the citizens of Scarletfrost City would present items from their homes. Anselm would thoughtfully choose a few to keep, later reciprocating with small, equal-value trinkets. However, when a child's heartfelt gift arrived, he would graciously accept it all, taking care to respond with genuine appreciation.

Since the age of seven, Anselm had been doing these things, cultivating this benevolent image within the territory of Hydra, delighting in the belief he fostered among the commoner, whose knowledge was often confined. He had never hidden his intentions, whether it was a calculated show or a strategic move to win people's hearts, maintaining this without fail for nine years.

The young Hydra reveled in the fear and reverence he inspired in others, yet he was equally receptive to the deep, sincere affection that came his way. As he once told the Earl of Scarletfrost, a malefactor who couldn't even be loved was not worthy of the title malefactor.

"Meryl, go and inform Sitana that it's time to prepare for departure... Oh, and call Malena too."

"Yes, Master."

The maid lady standing in the study bowed slightly and, with light steps, went to carry out Anselm's orders.

During this brief waiting time, Anselm, his fingers tracing the serpent's head on his cane, was pondering some matters.

Unlike Sitana, who possessed an unreasonable and terrifying intuition, Anselm relied on the vast library of memories that granted him knowledge from another world, far ahead of of this era—comprehensive knowledge in every fields.

The "experience" accumulated from this knowledge was far more useful and reliable than Sitana's still-developing intuition.

"Death huh... are you truly being honest with me about your fears, or are you just trying to cover the obvious and make a run for it, Viscount Lundbeck?"

Thinking about the tangled schemes behind this trip, Anselm's lips slowly curved upwards.

To him, these conspiracies were like the poorly tangled threads of a child, both clumsily executed and composed of cheap material. Untangling them required no thought; one merely needed to reach out and rip them apart, a task as simple as could be.

However, for Sitana, chaos was the best nourishment, and it was unexpected that the first opportunity for growth would come so soon.

Anselm had no interest in a Wolf Empress of the Azure Sky raised by cramming. If he wanted to cram her, why would he go through so much effort to tame the restless young wolf?

"How has our Miss Sitana been developing, Savile?" Anselm asked.

"She..."

Savile, who was usually calm and decisive, rarely hesitated: "Her situation is somewhat special. Young Master, I have never seen a Crystal Staircase like hers."

The beyonders walking the Pathway of Heaven, before reaching the third stage of the Imperial Throne, lack the capability to independently absorb beyonder characteristics from the external world.

The first stage, known as Foundation, and the second stage, Crystal Staircase, necessitate specialized rituals and various tools to harness and absorb beyonder materials. This is why the Empire's hierarchy is as unyielding as the polar icebergs, frozen for millennia.

Of course, the path to becoming a beyonder is not limited to the Pathway of Heaven; if it were, there wouldn't be such a multitude of open and secret rebels within the Empire. Yet, the alternative path might come with a greater cost.

And Sitana's Crystal Staircase...

"She dropped out of the Tower of Skyfrost at the age of twelve, which was four years ago." 

Savile frowned and said, "Over the past four years, Miss Sitana has not absorbed any beyonder characteristics, which should have caused her to fall from Crystal Staircase to Foundation. However, based on my observations these past few days... the reality is quite the opposite."

"Not only has she not fallen to Foundation, but the stability of her Crystal Staircase is unprecedented," Savile remarked, noting Anselm's smile and understanding that his young master was unsurprised. With this realization, he lessened his suspicions regarding Sitana's anomaly. "While it might be seen as a typical physical enhancement, no... her extreme physical enhancement is far from ordinary. Yet, in terms of her progression on Crystal Staircase, she truly deserves the title of a genius."

For an individual of Savile's caliber, the term "genius" denotes more than mere exceptional talent; it refers to someone with a singularly overwhelming and crushing quality in a particular field, capable of rendering concepts like "hard work," "sweat," and "dreams" utterly meaningless and obliterating them into oblivion.

The genius he referred to was beyond doubt, an absolute prodigy.

Anselm merely smiled in response, refraining from further comment. In terms of sheer combat strength, Sitana stood unchallenged as the most formidable among the four heroes. Her talent on the Beyonder Pathway was merely one of the countless brilliances that awaited her future.

Thinking of this, Anselm's mood became increasingly cheerful.

"Master," Meryl's voice came from outside the door after a knock, "Miss Malena and Miss Sitana have arrived."

"Come in."

Anselm chose not to return to his seat at the desk but sat down directly on the balcony. There, he observed the sisters as they approached, each with her distinct demeanor—one restrained and respectful, the other carefree and casual.

Malena was wearing an outfit chosen by Sitana... or more accurately, by Yura. It consisted of a tastefully understated light blue dress complemented by a woolen vest, a combination that preserved the girl's rustic charm while infusing it with a dash of contemporary style.

The young girl with her snow-white tresses woven into a large plait gracefully lifted her skirt to curtsy before Anselm. With Miss Melly's guidance, Malena's etiquettes had become that of an exemplar of gentility, especially when compared to her sister, she was truly a lady among ladies.

"Lord Hydra, how may I assist you?"

Malena's voice was soft, her demeanor dignified, and her expression serene.

But beneath that gentle and composed exterior, there was a heart thrummed with eager anticipation.

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