Chapter 31: Hydra and the Grand Duke

Why didn't Anselm deal with the arcanist? Of course, it's because as a competent assassin, the arcanist would have surely slipped away immediately after seeing that the situation was unfavorable.

And he didn't need to do anything; someone else would take care of the remaining assassins.

After concluding the lesson with Sitana, Anselm walked over to the Howlingwinds Viscount, who was utterly exhausted and covered in wounds, and asked with a look of concern, "Are you alright, Lord Viscount?"

"...I'm fine, thank you for your assistance, Lord Hydra."

The poor Howlingwinds Viscount tugged at the corners of his mouth, struggling to force a smile.

"It appears the vital parts haven't been hit yet, which is fortunate," Anselm said with satisfaction, nodding. "While I wouldn't hesitate to employ potions to ensure your survival, it's wise to avoid unnecessary expenditure."

Without waiting for the Howlingwinds Viscount to say anything, Anselm continued in a friendly manner, "Please contact the Grand Duke of Graytower for me, Lord Viscount."

The man's face betrayed an instant of clear, discernible stiffness and peculiarity, which even Sitana picked up on. He lowered his head, coughing up blood continuously, his voice laden with fatigue: "The Grand Duke? Lord Hydra, how could I possibly contact the Grand Duke? You—"

"Lord Viscount, your futile struggles are meaningless to me now." 

Anselm interrupted the Howlingwinds Viscount, his tone still gentle: "Your value lies solely in allowing my Sitana to reacquaint herself, officially, with the world of the beyonders."

"If you had postponed this assassination attempt, you might have lived a couple more days. But sadly, you couldn't even wait that long, so I'm forced to cut this journey short."

He sighed with a touch of melancholy: "My maids put a lot of effort into packing my luggage, and to be honest, returning so soon makes me feel like I'm not appreciating their hard work."

The area, left in shambles by the assassination, was enveloped in a long silence.

Anselm's voice wasn't raised, so Sitana, who remained where she was, couldn't make out his words, but she could feel the tumultuous emotions radiating from the Howlingwinds Viscount.

They were despair and... anger?

"I... I'm not quite clear on what you mean," he struggled to hide the roiling emotions within him, "So you intend to..."

The man's facial muscles twitched, and he slightly raised his head, his eyes flickering with ferocity as he stared at Anselm: "Intend to, bestow upon me your, mercy?"

"Mercy? Oh no, no, no... Viscount Howlingwinds, you no longer have that chance."

Without any warning, Anselm raised his hand and swung Gleipnir, the whip's four blades spinning and embedding themselves into the Howlingwinds Viscount's ankles and scapula, causing him to scream in agony and collapse to the ground.

The kind and lenient Hydra, at this moment, had an expressionless face.

"You were the one who betrayed my mercy."

"Thus, you must face punishment—"

The coldness on his face quickly melted away, transforming back into a warm and pleasant smile that felt like a gentle breeze.

The golden-haired young man bent down, whispering into the Howlingwinds Viscount's ear:

"Irrelevant to the empire's laws, unrelated to morality and goodness, solely for the sake of granting you forgiveness, my punishment."

"Well, actually, I don't require your assistance to contact Lord Graytower; I already possess the means to contact the Grand Duke myself."

Anselm smiled as he straightened up, looking down and admiring the Howlingwinds Viscount's disheveled state:

"I merely wanted to see what kind of expression you would show at that moment."

And he clapped his hands lightly, his tone cheerful: "A splendid form of entertainment indeed, Lord Viscount."

In contrast to the Scarletfrost Earl, the Howlingwinds Viscount appeared more patient, but this didn't signify that he was superior to his leader. Quite the opposite... the frenzy of the Scarletfrost Earl arose from his swift grasp of his actual predicament, while this Howlingwinds Viscount still clung to a sliver of hope, pinning it on the Grand Duke.

"Sitana," Anselm suddenly said, standing in front of the Howlingwinds Viscount, "Bring my chair over, and my coat too."

The snow-haired girl scratched at her neck, restrained by the collar, not knowing what madness Anselm was up to this time, but she complied nonetheless, bringing over the large chair Anselm used for fishing along with his coat.

"Are we just going to sit here and do nothing?" she asked with a puzzled expression, "Even if his guards are totally useless, they should be arriving soon. How are we going to explain this?"

"I don't often idle away time, Sitana," Anselm said as he settled into the chair, indicating for her to retrieve the communication crystal from his pocket, "So the concerns you're pondering, I've already addressed."

"..." Sitana's eyelids twitched as she handed the communication crystal to Anselm, thinking to herself that no matter how capable this jerk was, he always liked to boast. After all, they were practically glued together all day, so when the hell did he find time to handle all this? Was he some kind of master of clones?

As the girl silently grumbled, the communication crystal in Anselm's hand began to glow with a faint gray light. Soon, the crystal projected a three-dimensional image of a massive gray tower. After a brief flicker, the tower's projection transformed into the image of an elderly man with neatly styled hair, a kind appearance, and a vigorous spirit.

He sported a handlebar mustache, wore a pair of round-framed glasses that seemed slightly too small for him, and exuded a very strong scholarly aura. The background behind him appeared to be a study, or possibly an office.

"I didn't expect you to contact me so suddenly, young Hydra."

The most powerful Grand Duke of the Northern Lands raised his cup of hot tea towards Anselm: "What's the matter?"

There was no honorific, no "Lord" added after "Hydra," and even "young" was used before Anselm's name.

The Graytower Grand Duke's attitude towards Anselm was a night and day difference from that of other nobles.

And the way Anselm treated him was also completely unlike how he treated other nobles.

The young man slightly bowed his head: "It's been a long time since we last exchanged greetings, Grand Duke. The last time we contacted each other must have been four years ago."

"To be precise, it's been four years, six months, and five days," the Graytower Grand Duke's kindly face showed a hint of nostalgia, "Back then, when you sought my guidance on the principles of forbidden arts, you were just a tender and naive child. It's amazing how you've grown up so quickly."

Anselm smiled, "Time spares none of us, Your Grace."

"Indeed, time spares none of us," the old man sighed for a moment, then asked gently, "So, what brings you to contact me this time? Is it another inquiry about magic knowledge? Feel free to ask."

"No, I wish to reclaim a certain item from you."

"Oh?" The Gray Tower Grand Duke was quite surprised, "I don't recall ever taking anything from you, young Hydra."

"Could it be the life, soul, or... perhaps something else of Viscount Lundbeck?" Anselm said politely and gently, "That has already been promised to me, and he has consented."

"Is that so? But who exactly is this Viscount Lundbeck?"

The old man still seemed puzzled: "Although I may be a bit stingy, I wouldn't stoop to snatching something from you youngsters, let alone from a mere viscount." 

The Howlingwinds Viscount, immobilized on the ground, displayed a glimmer of hope on his face.

Yes, Hydra had no evidence, he had no proof whatsoever that he and Viscount Lundbeck had any connection with the Graytower Grand Duke.

As long as the Graytower Grand Duke denied it, what could he do?

And then, Anselm took out another item from the pocket of his wolf-fur cloak.

An image projection crystal.

"Would you like to see what images this crystal stores, Your Grace?" The young Hydra smiled, leisurely flicking out his tongue.

During the brief silence, Sitana was utterly confused.

--Where did he pull that thing from? When she had reached into his pocket earlier, there was nothing but the communication crystal.

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