Chapter 102: Foolishness (Part 2)

  The assassination of Bishop Ronis, the Duke leading the Magic Academy and Paladin Order to jointly eliminate a Necromancer, the bounty and wanted poster for the assassin, the Duke arresting the Finance Minister and announcing to the nation that he would execute justice by killing his own daughter... this series of explosive events and rumors radiated outward from the royal capital like shockwaves.

  Spreading as rapidly as the rumors were the wanted posters and the Duke's announcements. These documents caused immediate excitement wherever they arrived. Not only were adventurers, thieves, and mercenaries excited and busy with these matters, but ordinary people were also agitated. Many devout believers wept bitterly over Bishop Ronis's death, some even posting copies of the wanted poster on their doors, hoping one day to avenge the respected Bishop. As rumors spread by word of mouth, dozens of different versions emerged, debated and discussed in taverns.

  Sweetwater Town was a remote town in the eastern part of the Empire. When swept by this shockwave of news, it was thrown into chaos just like everywhere else. Besides the tavern becoming the liveliest spot, the town hall was also incredibly busy. Not only did it have to handle adventurers coming to inquire about new news or announcements, but because the wanted poster was official, regulations required a thorough search within the town. By day's end, the mayor was nearly exhausted.

  Returning from the search and sitting in his chair, the mayor finally sighed in relief, turning to complain to the sheriff: "I don't understand why we even need to search. Would such a heretical criminal be foolish enough to walk right in and surrender?"

  But the sheriff didn't answer, seemingly not even hearing. The muscles in his face appeared completely out of control, his mouth open wide enough to fit his own fist, his eyes bulging so much they seemed about to pop out.

  The mayor curiously followed his gaze and saw someone walking through the main entrance of the town hall. Then his own facial expression immediately lost control.

  This person wasn't just walking boldly—it was outright arrogance. He pushed and shoved his way past the stunned people in front, approaching the magistrate. Staring at him, he asked in a deep voice: "Are you the highest official here?"

  This person's eyes were bloodshot, all his facial features distorted by emotional agitation—rage, anxiety, and ferocity were fully displayed on his face. But the reason for the attention wasn't his expression—it was his appearance.

  Even when distorted by emotion, his face was instantly recognizable. Because this was the face they had just been searching for on the streets, now known, familiar, and constantly remembered by everyone—the face worth five thousand gold coins.

  "Are you the highest official here?" This now-recognized most evil and sinister wanted criminal slammed his hand on the magistrate's desk, his voice already a roar, as if he were the one controlling the situation and justice.

  The sheriff, having recovered, had already drawn his sword. His originally loud shout became a shrill scream due to excessive agitation: "Someone... quickly, seize him."

  "Are you the mayor?" Ten minutes later. The wanted criminal, now covered in blood, kicked the desk to pieces, roaring at the magistrate cowering in the corner.

  "Yes..." The mayor had wet his pants. The wounded nearly filled the town hall floor. The simultaneous groans of over a hundred people sounded like a bizarre chorus.

  The wanted criminal stepped forward and grabbed the mayor. The mayor realized this vicious man before him was from the Necromancer Guild, thinking he would immediately become a skeleton or zombie. He immediately lost control of both bladder and bowels.

  But this person just shouted at him: "Go to the royal capital and deliver a verbal message for me. To Duke Mrak." The wanted criminal's voice was hoarse with anger, like the roar of a beast. "Tell him to be careful. As he wished, I will return."

  Stepping over the wounded on the floor as he left the town hall, Ethan felt his liver and gallbladder tearing apart, his blood boiling as if in a cauldron. Three figures floated in his mind: Bishop Ronis, Sandro, Sophia. The background was the Duke's smiling face, and blood.

  Today, passing through this town, he saw his own wanted poster in a tavern and simultaneously learned of Bishop Ronis's death, struck as if by lightning.

  Bishop Ronis. Although Ethan didn't agree with his methods and even somewhat disliked him, Ethan knew this most respected elder in the Empire genuinely cared for and protected him—many of his efforts were arguably for Ethan's sake. And such an old man had died so inexplicably.

  He also heard about the Paladin Order and Magic Academy joining forces, with tremendous effort, to eliminate a Necromancer. From those vivid descriptions, he could tell it was Sandro. He nearly vomited upon hearing this news. Sandro. Though this strange Necromancer held an odd place in his heart, he was undoubtedly important.

  No need to wonder how this happened. The Duke's announcement already explained everything.

  The meaning of the Duke's announcement was equally clear: Come back. Either you die, or she dies.

  Ethan looked west. That was the direction of the royal capital. The sunset was crimson red. Like the Duke's smile, so kind and warm, yet tinged with the cruel color of blood. As if smilingly saying to him: Hurry and come.

  Since the Duke had announced this to the entire nation, if Ethan didn't appear by the deadline, the Duke would absolutely burn Sophia to death. He had to return.

  Not far outside the town hall, a dense crowd had gathered—nearly the entire town had surrounded the area. From the moment he removed his mask and entered the town hall, someone had recognized him, and this news immediately spread through the town at the maximum speed human legs could achieve. Adventurers and mercenaries followed one after another, but the first few mercenary groups who charged into the town hall only managed to crawl out with broken limbs, forcing those behind to halt. But as the crowd grew, so did their courage. Eventually, townspeople arrived carrying hoes and kitchen knives.

  Seeing him exit the town hall, the thousand-plus people who had gathered let out an earth-shattering shout and charged toward him. Ethan leaped onto the roadside rooftops, jumping and running westward.

  In the royal capital, when the Duke heard Ethan's message, he smiled with delight.

  The Duke carefully inquired about the time and place of this person's appearance, the circumstances at the time, even asking detailed questions about his expressions and movements. Then he nodded in satisfaction. He knew his trap had indeed worked.

  What is the most effective trap? One where the opponent knows it's a trap but has no choice but to walk into it. The Duke had always been a master at setting traps because he knew how to exploit human nature.

  But he seemed unaware that the deeper one studied such things, the more skillfully one employed them, the less of these qualities remained in oneself. This reached a new height after he decided to continue climbing the limitless peak of power, using his daughter as bait—and possibly silencing her permanently.

  Actually, after making this decision, he had felt sad and dejected for a while, but only for a while. Rational judgment of the situation and its implications quickly overwhelmed this weak emotion. But because such weak sentiments grew fewer, he could consider problems more rationally, reasonably, and without reservation. Like an incredibly precise machine. A machine that operated and calculated for power. Even he had to admit that in employing tactics and manipulating power, he had indeed reached a great height.

  This was a height where turning back was no longer possible.

  Using his precise thinking, the Duke considered briefly and immediately concluded. The deliberately delivered verbal message was merely the roar of a cornered beast. Expressing some despair and anger. Objectively, it would have no effect.

  The messenger had delivered the message, but the person himself had not yet appeared. Only two possibilities existed. First, he was seeking reinforcements.

  This possibility was minuscule.Bear in mind this kid was now a wanted criminal jointly by the Church and the Empire. No matter how capable someone was, they would absolutely not dare to help. It would undoubtedly indicate involvement in Bishop Ronis's assassination.

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  The second possibility: this person was already in the royal capital, but hiding, waiting for the right moment to act. Realizing this, the Duke immediately ordered the royal capital guards to be on full alert at all times. He also requested the Paladin Order to send people to triple the guards at that prison.

  That kid would definitely walk into the trap. The Duke was confident. People bound by emotion, driven by their own impulses, were the very definition of foolishness, absolutely unable to escape the meticulously arranged trap and layout he had devised with his exquisite rationality.

  The royal capital guard's prison was the one the Duke had ordered specially attended. Now, nearly a thousand elite soldiers were constantly stationed outside. Among them were many from the Paladin Order, as well as mages from the Magic Academy. And once the wanted criminal was spotted, Commander Roland's personally led Paladin Order could arrive within ten minutes.

  Commander Roland had also asked the Duke about Clovis and Sophia. Many ministers in the court, even His Majesty the Emperor, had advised him to investigate further. But the Duke presented several convincing pieces of evidence, and when discussing it with His Majesty the Emperor, he showed genuine emotion, weeping as he spoke of his relationship with his daughter, his care for his assistant, but given the circumstances, he had to execute justice to comfort Bishop Ronis's spirit in heaven and draw out the real murderer. His Majesty the Emperor, moved to tears, no longer interfered with the Duke's actions. And as long as His Majesty no longer interfered, the Duke could do almost as he pleased.

  To be honest, this earth-shattering approach didn't fit the Duke's usual style. But he couldn't afford to be particular now. He had to eliminate that kid as quickly as possible. Because there were other matters to follow.

  The Duke had imprisoned Clovis and Sophia together. Both were extremely important hostages. Naturally, they needed to be concentrated together to prevent any mishaps. The reason for this was also the Duke's regard for that escaped father.

  To be honest, the Duke had to express some admiration for that prodigal son he had always looked down upon, Inham Erney Marquis. His ability to flee immediately after completing the task was undeniably brilliant.

  Once the task was complete, his usefulness was gone. For an action like assassinating a Bishop, the Duke would absolutely silence him. After silencing him, his son would absolutely not escape.

  Instead, after he fled, the Duke, wanting leverage against him, naturally wouldn't harm Clovis. So his immediate escape was indeed an extremely wise choice. He was a smart man. So precautions were needed against him using unexpected means to rescue his son.

  But the Duke wasn't particularly concerned about Marquis, at least not yet while busy dealing with Ethan. Because Marquis's cleverness was obviously just petty cleverness. Look at that prodigal son's destitute appearance—though he had a clever mind that could see the Duke's intentions, he wasted such a good mind and talent on sensual pleasures, those so-called arts, and women, ending up destitute and finally having to be manipulated by the Duke.

  Being entangled by emotional impulses was foolish, and those flashy petty cleverness were simply more hopeless than foolishness.

  True great wisdom and intelligence were for making decisions, for abandoning all other obstructive things, focusing all energy on one's goals, utilizing everything that could be utilized, ultimately reaching the pinnacle of success. Like himself.

  At this thought, the Duke felt a long-absent passion stirring in his chest. He stood before the window.

  The brilliant lights, pavilions, and terraces of the royal capital could all be seen from here. The Duke reached out as if to grasp this scene. That hand, covered in veins, scars, and traces of hardship and effort, gripped so powerfully, so steadily. As if all this prosperity could be held in his grasp. Including, of course, the countless foolish people.

  On the other side of the royal capital. In the heavily guarded dungeon, the moods of two people who had once been the Duke's closest were completely opposite to his. They not only saw no prosperity or vitality, but even lacked the right to hope.

  The conditions in the dungeon weren't bad, even better than an ordinary inn. Though they were prisoners, their identities remained special. Moreover, the Duke had no intention of mistreating them. He hoped they would both stay alive, at least while still useful.

  There were no guards inside the dungeon. Anything these two said casually could be highly confidential, and the Duke didn't want unnecessary complications. Even those delivering food were specially found deaf men.

  Under the efforts of the Magic Academy's priests, Clovis had basically saved his life. But his spirit was almost completely broken. As soon as his body improved slightly, he spent all day roaring at the steel bars, demanding to see Duke Mrak, until his voice was completely hoarse, throwing all delivered food everywhere. Unfortunately, the Duke had issued strict orders regarding how to treat these two prisoners, so no matter how much he roared, there was no response.

  After he stopped shouting, Clovis would look at his completely useless hand, sometimes crying, sometimes laughing, sometimes using his teeth to bite that hand until it bled profusely, smashing everything in his cell to pieces. Sometimes he would bang his head against the wall until it was bloodied, but he never attempted suicide. For a time, Sophia suspected he had completely lost his mind.

  Finally, after a hysterical outburst, Clovis suddenly fell silent. He only said in a weeping tone: "So my only value to him now is this life." Then he shrank into the corner and fell asleep.

  Sophia's days in the dungeon were much quieter and calmer. Of course, such quiet and calm were only relative to Clovis's situation. After all, she had been imprisoned by her own father as bait to lure the man she loved to his death.

  Whatever woman found herself in such circumstances, managing not to become hysterical like Clovis would already be quite good. But Sophia calmed down after just a day or two of hesitation and anxiety. She ate the delivered food properly every day and rested well. At other times, she surprisingly began meditating, exercising her limbs in the not-so-spacious cell, like a gladiator conserving energy for an upcoming match. As for Clovis's antics next door, she completely ignored them.

  "Hey. Can you hear me?" Suddenly one day, Clovis spoke. Though his voice was weak, it was no longer the mad roar, but actually addressing someone. And there was no third person in this dungeon.

  Though slightly surprised, Sophia still answered calmly: "I can hear you."

  Their cells were diagonally opposite. As long as they didn't deliberately look at each other, they could only hear each other's voices.

  "Why are you so calm? Do you think he'll come to save you?" Clovis asked.

  Sophia was even more surprised. Clovis shouldn't have participated in the Duke's plan, and had been unconscious most of the time. She couldn't help asking: "You know why I was imprisoned?"

  "I heard some conversations among soldiers while at the Duke's mansion and during the transfer here. Bishop Ronis was assassinated, that bastard is wanted... I can probably guess what happened. I've always understood Duke Mrak quite well."

  "Oh, then you must also know why he arrested you." Sophia replied in a detached tone. She had never liked this person.

  "Even if I didn't know, I could probably guess now. I know my father went to see Duke Mrak, and then Bishop Ronis was assassinated." Clovis's voice carried an intermittent weeping tone. "Then do you know that both of us are probably doomed to die? Since Duke Mrak feels confident enough to imprison us two who know so much together, he absolutely won't let us leave here alive to talk."

  "Probably."

  "Then why are you so calm? Preparing every day. Imagining he'll come save you, then the two of you will break out together like heroes and heroines in stories, escape to freedom? Hehe... hahaha..." Clovis seemed to be laughing, but the sound that came out was crying. So Sophia had been paying attention to her movements these days. "Do you really think he'll come save you? Knowing it's death and still coming? Is he that foolish?"

  Sophia was silent for a moment, then murmured as if to herself: "I hope he's not that foolish. But... if he really does come, at least I must find a way to let him escape safely. To do my utmost."

  "Ahahaha..." Clovis burst into tears again. "Since Duke Mrak has arranged things this way, he absolutely won't give you any chance to struggle. As soon as that bastard comes to save you, once he's caught, you'll truly be a pair of doomed mandarin ducks."

  "Seems you really understand him well." Sophia's voice remained as calm as ever.

  "Understand... of course I understand. I've followed him for so long... hehe... I also know he's actually been quite merciful to me. He didn't blind me, didn't cut out my tongue or sever the tendons in my hands and feet, actually letting me wait here for death properly... hehe."

  Sophia didn't answer. Clovis didn't ask again, crying for a while before falling silent again.

  After several more days of silence, Clovis suddenly asked: "Do you know how many days are left until the deadline the Duke gave that bastard?"

  "Thirteen days." Sophia answered. She remembered clearly every day.

  "Thirteen days. Hehe. You wait slowly. See whether he's the fool, or you, the fool who believes he'll come, is the fool."

  Sophia didn't answer, continuing with whatever she was doing. Clovis fell silent again.

  The next day, Clovis spoke again: "Twelve days left. The fool still hasn't appeared... no, maybe he has, but was already dealt with by the soldiers outside. Hahahaha... truly a fool..."

  Sophia ignored him.

  "Eleven days left... that fool must have been caught by Duke Mrak. Haha. For that bastard he hates so much, Duke Mrak definitely won't just kill him with one knife—that would be too merciful. He'll definitely flay him slowly, one piece at a time. That must be very satisfying. Such a task would originally have fallen to me, heheheh... but now I can't do it. Seems that fool disabling me first was indeed foresighted on his part. Hahaha... hey, are you listening... hey, say something... are you dead?"

  "Ten days left. You're not talking anymore? No comment on your feelings now? Hahaha..."

  "Nine days left. This number isn't auspicious. Did you hear? You foolish woman who believes in a fool... you, hear, me? Haha..."

  "Eight days left..." Clovis would report the date like this every day, often saying a bunch of nonsense regardless of whether Sophia responded. And indeed, Sophia didn't respond.

  "Seven days... Maybe someone will come take you away soon. Will Duke Mrak kill you personally? Hehe... Duke Mrak is so decisive, able to kill his own daughter without hesitation, all actions so rational, so efficient. Truly my idol. Hahaha..."

  "Six days..." "Five days..." "Four days..." "Hey, foolish woman. Three days left..."

  "Not reminding me today? Only tomorrow left." Sophia suddenly spoke first. Perhaps she had grown accustomed to his noise these days, or perhaps something in her heart now made her uncomfortable, wanting someone to talk to.

  "I'm tired, don't want to say anything more." Clovis's tone was already quite steady, no longer as manic as before. Actually, the later it got, the calmer he seemed—even yesterday he hadn't spoken at all. "And these days I've been thinking."

  "Thinking about what?" Sophia now felt something pent up inside. She wanted to talk to someone, even this person who could be considered the most detestable in her world.

  Clovis actually sighed: "I only now realize. I'm so much worse than you. Both of us know we're going to die, but you're still so calm, preparing for something with only a one-in-ten-thousand chance of happening. And me? I almost went mad. Even now. I can't face reality, still hoping for a miracle... I only now understand something my father said. The higher you climb, the harder you fall, the more painful the fall, the more awake you become. I'm completely awake now. Strange, I'm the person who hates my father most, but now he's the one I miss most..." Once he started, he couldn't stop, probably pouring out everything from his heart these past few days. "Actually, since childhood, I was recognized as the most outstanding genius of my generation in the family. But because of my father, I was looked down upon everywhere, excluded by others. I might not even have the qualification to become the family head. I wasn't reconciled, so I worked harder, desperately hard. I swore to myself that I must be outstanding, I must possess the greatest power, I must stand at the peak of this world, I must become the strongest in this world. Finally, I was taken as a disciple by Commander Roland, with the opportunity to inherit the position of Paladin Order Commander. I was very happy. And at this time, I met Duke Mrak."

  "Duke Mrak was so strong, so intelligent, so skilled at fighting for power, his methods so brilliant. He was someone who could stand at the top of the world. He was completely my idol, my life's goal. So I determined I must follow Duke Mrak. I must become someone like Duke Mrak."

  "When I became Duke Mrak's deputy, I was so happy. Felt I was already standing at the top of the world. I worshipped him like a god, his commands even greater than my own will. Alas. Strangely. I admired him so much precisely because he was so good at using people, including myself—when I had no value, he would discard me like a rag... What, still find me detestable? Not talking."

  "No. Just surprised, that's all." Sophia's voice did carry a hint of surprise.

  "Surprised by what?"

  "Surprised that you're also human." Sophia returned to her calm tone.

  "Probably because I'm about to die. But it seems you'll go before me. You die tomorrow." Clovis's voice was flatter than Sophia's, though it had emotion, it was lifeless, as if a corpse were speaking.

  "...Well, probably."

  "You really think he'll come save you? Too bad even if he comes, the earlier the better. The later it gets, the tighter the security outside. If it's at the execution ground, even if he comes, he'll just die with you. So since he hasn't come until now, it only means he won't come."

  "If he really doesn't come, that would be best." After saying this, Sophia felt a moment of relief, mixed with some bitterness. The corners of her eyes were already moist.

  "If he's not the fool, then you become the fool."

  "Hmph, aren't you a fool too?"

  "Haha. Yes. I'm a fool." Clovis mocked himself for the first time in his life. "But you, the fool, will die before me, this fool. Tomorrow."

  "Tomorrow..." Sophia sighed deeply, her low voice echoing in the dungeon.