Chapter 66: The First Step of the Job
In fact, Bishop Ronis had long been calling on various countries to form an alliance against the Necromancer Guild. Unfortunately, this plan had never been put into action.
Although the Necromancer Guild had a notorious reputation among the common people, none of the national leaders or politicians regarded them as villains that must be eliminated. After all, they were just playing with bizarre magic and acting in a secretive manner. Even when they occasionally killed people and turned corpses into zombies or skeletons, the number of deaths was negligible compared to those caused by suppressing a peasant uprising, a minor conflict between countries, or a coup d'état.
Moreover, the Holy See’s attitude toward the Necromancer Guild was rather strange. While it had always expressed hostility toward this evil organization, that “expression” was all there was—never any real action. Bishop Ronis had submitted proposals to the Pope to wipe out the Necromancer Guild more than once, but for various reasons, each plan and proposal had been aborted before it could take shape.
However, there were probably objective reasons for this attitude. The Church itself did not have enough combat strength and could only urge the machinery of various countries to send troops into battle. Besides, the Diya Valley was surrounded by the Wyvern Wastes and the Shadowspire Peaks; even experienced adventurers could barely reach it, let alone military forces. Rumor had it that every Necromancer there was a top-tier mage, and no national leader was willing to provoke such people for no reason.
On the contrary, there was once an ambitious monarch who tried to win over these mysterious hermit mages to help him dominate the world. He sent a delegation of renowned diplomats, carrying grand and valuable gifts, to visit the valley.
Unexpectedly, these “ambassadors of peace” who had ventured into the land of death actually returned safely. Not only did they bring back all the gifts they had taken, but they also carried what were said to be gifts in return from the Necromancers. These return gifts were all priceless works of art and jewelry, ten times more valuable than those the monarch had sent. Just as the monarch was feeling both delighted and ashamed at this unexpected gain, the envoys—who had seemed perfectly normal until then—suddenly stepped forward, grabbed the monarch, and twisted his head off with their bare hands. Before the guards and ministers could react, the envoys then twisted off their own heads as well. After that, the headless envoys used those severed heads to dip in blood and write a few large characters on the hall floor. It was said that half of the people present at the time were driven mad by this horrifying scene.
Don’t bother us for no reason.
That was the message the “recluses” of Diya Valley had conveyed to the world through their unique method.
From then on, no one dared to entertain the idea of having any connection with that place. This showed just how difficult Bishop Ronis’s vision of forming an alliance against them was.
But difficult as it was, it was imperative. So Bishop Ronis had prepared a plan, and the stage for this plan was the upcoming Royal Hunting Tournament in the royal capital.
The Royal Hunting Tournament had originally been a private leisure activity of the Grafenhardt royal family. To the southwest of the royal capital, there were vast forests and meadows—excellent hunting grounds—and every year, the emperor would take nobles and lords there for hunting. In recent years, thanks to the gentle nature of the new emperor, the empire’s diplomatic relations with neighboring countries had gradually improved. Not long ago, they had also reached a consensus with various countries on Oufu and successfully resolved the dispute. In a good mood, the young Grafenhardt XVII had invited nobles and lords from all countries to join in this activity.
Bishop Ronis took this opportunity to once again appeal to the leaders of various countries. As usual, he emphasized the dangers and malicious intentions of the Necromancer Guild, explained that various signs indicated the Guild would strengthen its power and even threaten the entire continent, and called on everyone to unite to eliminate it. However, the response from the countries remained the same: they saw this appeal as the typical stubbornness and overreaction of a religious figure. Out of respect for this respected elder, they would not refuse him to his face, but merely used polite diplomatic rhetoric to fob him off.
This hunting tournament was the starting point of all his plans; it needed to be arranged carefully and thoughtfully, and required skillful diplomatic tactics to implement. These tasks were undoubtedly completely unsuitable for someone of the bishop’s noble and lofty status to handle, and the Magic Academy really had no one competent enough for the job. Just then, a friend of Bishop Ronis returned to the royal capital, so the bishop asked Ethan to go to this friend for help.
This man was the most famous man about town in the Ainfast Empire. His fame and reputation even extended beyond the country’s borders—no one else on the entire continent could compare.
In his youth, he was the most infatuated young nobleman. He had once ridden dozens of the finest horses to their deaths, traversing the Barbarian Highlands (which were still infested with werewolves at the time), just to deliver a rare flower unique to the Sanderfirth Mountains that a woman he admired had wanted to see. He was also the most cunning and unruly libertine: in the morning, he would swear eternal love to an innocent maiden, and in the evening, he would rent out an entire brothel and indulge in debauchery with prostitutes. He was also the most charming heartthrob, the most elegant womanizer, and a prince charming with an almost demonic allure. Countless noble ladies trained their dancing skills like mad; some even begged priests and skilled surgeons to perform “knife therapy” on them—all to make themselves slimmer, their noses higher, and their eyes more seductive—just for a chance to dance with him at a ball and make him remember their names.
Later, he developed an interest in theology and magic and enrolled in the Magic Academy. Back then, he was a renowned theologian, unbeatable in theological debates. Yet he was also a blasphemer cursed by pious believers; it was said that he had once crudely discussed with prostitutes and their clients what position the famous virgin Mary might have used to give birth to her son (whose father was unknown).
He had also always been a highly gifted writer. His poetry collections were praised even by the most discerning critics, and the Royal Theater had staged plays he wrote. He was even a maverick artist who defied the world. He once spent a huge sum of money to buy many precious works of art, held an exhibition, and then smashed all those items to pieces in front of the public, claiming they were fakes. After that, he placed one of his own huge paintings on the fragments of those once-priceless artworks, declaring it was “true art.” This act made all other artists break off relations with him forever—the painting was an extremely realistic depiction of a woman’s genitals, accompanied by a poem he had written titled The Gate of the World.
However, the strangest thing about all this man’s deeds was that he was actually a friend of Bishop Ronis.
No matter how the two men—with such vastly different personalities—had crossed paths, the fact that they did not repel each other was truly perplexing. Perhaps this libertine had a deep, hidden sentiment in his heart, or maybe the bishop was not entirely as rigid and solemn as he seemed. Objectively speaking, the bishop also had many places where he needed to rely on this versatile friend with a complicated identity—like now, for instance.
This man was definitely fascinating, eccentric, and full of mysterious charm. But Ethan felt rather uneasy when he went to find him. Because this man was the famous Marquis Inham Erney. According to seniority and family rules, he was the nominal head of the Erney family—and Clovis’s father.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
What was certain, however, was that the relationship between this father and son was completely estranged. Their utterly different personalities and values were ample proof. It was said that this distinguished father had not even been present at Clovis’s wedding. Although this nominal family head was despised and marginalized within the Erney family, a father’s absence from his son’s wedding was almost unthinkable according to noble etiquette.
Ethan arrived at the Marquis’s residence. Compared to the many official mansions in the royal capital, it was not eye-catching—even a little shabby—and stood in stark contrast to the grandeur and majesty of the duke’s mansion. After Ethan identified himself to the old servant who opened the door, the servant led him straight inside. He met the Marquis in a very simple living room.
The moment Ethan saw the Marquis, he understood that Clovis’s good looks were inherited from this father. Yet the temperaments of the two father and son were completely different. The Marquis had a somewhat lean face, deep, slightly melancholy yet extremely handsome eyes, a straight nose, and thin lips that always seemed ready to curl into a half-smile. In his youth, he must have been a handsome man with a hint of enchantment; now, he had merged the composed demeanor of maturity with his outwardly radiant charm. He was definitely the kind of person who could captivate others at first glance—and no matter how many times you looked at him, you would never grow tired of his appearance.
Ethan nodded and saluted the Marquis, saying, “Marquis, I have been sent by Bishop Ronis to discuss something with you.”
“That was a rather sloppy salute—purely perfunctory,” the Marquis lifted his slender eyebrows (eyebrows that seemed a little too delicate for a man) and commented.
Ethan was stunned.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a clergyman so unpretentious, with no trace of affectation,” there was a smile in the Marquis’s eyes. He had the eyes of a young man—even though he was over forty, there was not the slightest sign of aging in them, not even a single wrinkle at the corners of his eyes. When he smiled, he looked extremely attractive. He openly expressed his fondness for Ethan: “I like people like you.”
Ethan actually felt his face flush. Normally, he rarely felt embarrassed, even when facing girls.
“All right, let’s go to the study to talk,” the Marquis patted Ethan on the shoulder, as naturally as if they were old friends, with no trace of pretense. “Since Bishop Ronis sent you to me, it means you must be someone he trusts deeply—and what we’re going to talk about is probably something he finds hard to handle himself.”
In the study, after listening to Bishop Ronis’s plan, the Marquis sighed: “Who would have thought that my noble, lofty friend would have to resort to these dirty tactics used by politicians?” He gave Ethan a charming smile. “But I’m sure he must have a noble reason—like fighting for light and justice, am I right?”
Faced with this strange remark that directly called the bishop’s methods “dirty,” Ethan did not know what expression to make. He could only mumble an ambiguous “mm.”
The Marquis bowed his head in thought for a moment, then suddenly seemed to perk up. “You know, the plays I wrote used to be classics at the Royal Theater, but I’ve always had one regret—I’ve never directed a real drama. Isn’t this plan the perfect opportunity? What stage set or scene could compare to the grand stage of reality? This is art with real blood and flesh,” he winked at Ethan and nodded proudly. “Just wait and see.”
Looking at the Marquis’s lively expression, Ethan could not help but ask: “Did you really study at the Magic Academy? And were you the most outstanding prodigy and the most famous theologian there?” Based on Ethan’s previous experience, the more books one read and the deeper one’s knowledge, the more repulsive and dull one became. But the Marquis was completely different—every smile, every gesture, his tone of voice, and even the sound of his voice seemed to be filled with genuine emotion from the heart. He was full of vitality, yet never seemed shallow.
“I was definitely not an outstanding student,” the Marquis spread his hands and said, “I was expelled.”
“Oh? Why?”
“Because I criticized the way the breasts were carved on their statue of the Virgin Mary.”
“What was wrong with them?”
“A virgin mother having breasts that only a woman with a satisfying sex life would have—of course that’s wrong,” the Marquis said in the tone of an expert, clearly indignant.
“They expelled you just for that?” Ethan felt indignant on behalf of this outstanding senior from the Magic Academy.
The Marquis looked innocent: “They wouldn’t listen to my advice, so I had to take matters into my own hands. I smashed the breasts on the Virgin Mary statues in the cathedral and several other places, then used flour to reshape them into the kind of breasts a virgin should have. That’s when they expelled me.”
“Hahaha…” Ethan burst out laughing. He was certain that the Magic Academy had only imposed such a lenient punishment out of deference to the Erney family. If it had not been for this prominent family, this audacious senior would have been burned at the stake for his “insight” back then.
After they finished discussing the business at hand, the two chatted freely in the study for a while, and by then, they were already as familiar and affectionate as old friends. The Marquis highly praised Ethan—this newly promoted clergyman who could not even recite the holy scriptures—saying that those proper, rule-abiding clergymen were nothing but wooden blocks. Only someone as unrestrained and obviously genuine as Ethan could bring some improvement to the dull atmosphere of the Magic Academy. And Ethan thought this man was truly lovely and approachable. Perhaps the reason Clovis was so unpleasant was that his father had not bothered to pass on any of these endearing traits to him.
Before they knew it, it was evening. Ethan was about to leave, and the Marquis walked him out.
On the way, the Marquis suddenly said: “I feel a little sorry for you, but for the sake of my sense of aesthetics, there’s something I must say.”
Ethan frowned: “What is it?”
The Marquis sighed: “Do you know that this clergyman’s robe looks utterly unaesthetic and mismatched on you? It’s even stranger than a butcher wearing a sheer dress.”
“Oh? I really don’t know how to dress properly,” Ethan could not help but lower his head to look at himself. He had just thrown this solemn, dignified clergyman’s robe on his body casually, as if he were putting on pajamas.
“It’s not about how you wear it,” the Marquis’s eyes sparkled with the enthusiasm of an artist, and his gestures carried the grace of a poet. “It’s about temperament—the aura that emanates from within, a blend of your personality and vitality, which cannot be influenced by clothes or any other external things. The vibe you give off is completely incompatible with the dullness of religion,” he looked at Ethan. “You’re natural and sincere, and either don’t know how to hide or suppress yourself, or are unwilling to. If I had to say what profession would suit you, it would probably be a gangster or a robber.”
Ethan let out a laugh that was utterly inappropriate for his solemn status. He realized that he had laughed more and more happily in this man’s company than at any other time.
The Marquis immediately snapped his fingers in a characteristically flamboyant gesture: “You see? This bold, unbridled laughter is clearly the exclusive right of outlaws. Those fools who recite the holy scriptures could never laugh so freely.”
“Sorry,” the Marquis suddenly sighed.
“What?” Ethan was confused.
“I came back too late. I didn’t have time to ruin that ugly marriage,” the Marquis’s eyes were filled with apology. “A nice girl like Miss Mrak should definitely marry someone like you, not my blockhead of a son.”
Ethan stared at him in stunned embarrassment. This was definitely not something a father should say.
“Duke Mrak and the members of my family are all vulgar power-hungry creatures—even farmers who swing hoes all their lives have better taste than them. They don’t understand that in such an ugly world, the only beautiful thing is the pure love between a man and a woman. Yet they actually destroyed the love between two such beautiful young people for the sake of power and money—it’s utterly ugly,” this family head used the sentiment and tone of a poet to voice his indignation on behalf of his daughter-in-law and his daughter-in-law’s lover.
Ethan could only listen in a daze. There seemed to be nothing appropriate for him to say at this moment.
“She’s a wonderful girl—too bad she was born into the most disgusting and vulgar noble family. But if there’s anything more disgusting and vulgar than a noble family in this world, it’s a wealthy noble family. And she had to marry into one of those, trapped by those ridiculous family rules and not even allowed to go out freely. What a pity,” the Marquis suddenly leaned close to Ethan’s ear and whispered, “She should be in her own room over there right now. Do you want to go see her? I can send the servants away.”
“No, no, that’s not necessary,” Ethan waved his hands frantically to refuse.
“Oh right! Why don’t we let her join our wonderful play too? Let her see what kind of hero the man she likes becomes,” the Marquis suddenly came up with an even bolder suggestion.
“Wouldn’t that be inconvenient?” Ethan was a little flustered.
The Marquis smiled confidently, with a graceful and assured demeanor, as if this were just a trivial, elegant matter that could be handled easily. He patted Ethan on the shoulder—his aura and manner made it impossible for Ethan to refuse any further: “Don’t worry, leave everything to me. It will be wonderful and interesting.”
