Chapter 387 - 378: Pact of Metal and Stone

Chapter 387: Chapter 378: Pact of Metal and Stone

On the carriage ride to the Silent Court, Tristan tried to calm his nerves. ’Unlike the deal with my father, this time I’m not sure how His Highness will react.’

When they arrived at the entrance, a butler stood silently to the side. He wore the same impassive expression as ever, but he bowed a little deeper upon seeing Velin.

Led by the butler, Velin and Tristan walked down a long corridor to meet the master of the estate in his study once more.

The study door was pushed open. Prince Willandar was standing before a massive floor-to-ceiling window, gazing out at the Royal Capital.

Hearing the sound, he turned, his deep, penetrating gaze locking directly onto Velin.

"I didn’t expect we’d meet again so soon." The Prince offered Velin a kind smile.

Velin bowed, then gestured behind him. Four guards struggled to carry in a metal chest, setting it down heavily on the floor with a dull thud.

The chest was opened, revealing neatly arranged crystal vials that refracted an eerie blue glow in the daylight.

"Three thousand vials of Blood Cough Potion," Velin said. "Thank you for your support with the pioneering charter."

Even Willandar’s pupils constricted slightly at the sight of the potion, which was now worth its weight in gold. Marquis Lorenzo had briefly mentioned the Blood Cough Potion Velin developed in his letter requesting an audience.

But he had assumed it would be a few hundred vials at most, a rare commodity to be used as a political bargaining chip.

He never expected Velin to produce such a staggering quantity right from the start.

This was enough to supply an army of ten thousand or stabilize the entire Noble District of the Royal Capital.

The Prince gently touched the weighty gift. "Count Velin, your worth far exceeds my imagination."

Velin met his gaze and gave a subtle gesture to their surroundings.

Willandar understood at once. He waved for the others to withdraw and personally stepped forward to close the door.

Inside the study, only the three of them and the chest of eerie blue light remained.

"I suspect Hector Este is the mastermind behind this plague." Velin stated his conclusion directly, not waiting for the Prince to speak.

Willandar didn’t seem surprised. He simply made a gesture to continue.

Tristan stepped forward, retrieved several reports from his document case, and concisely recounted the core curse of the plague and its path of transmission.

Tristan paused before adding a final point.

"Your Highness, Hector has always resorted to extreme methods. The deaths of his father and brother are inextricably linked to him. For someone like him, following the Empire’s orders to purge anti-Imperial factions within the Duchy using a plague would be perfectly logical."

After hearing everything, Willandar fell into a long silence.

Everything Tristan described—the man-made plague, its path of transmission, the accusations against Hector—it all aligned perfectly with his own darkest suspicions.

"The Bloody Edict..." Willandar finally spoke, his voice tinged with exhaustion. "So this is its true form... a plague."

He then walked behind his desk and took a large stack of letters from a drawer.

"My return to the Royal Capital was not merely for a life of seclusion. I have been using all my remaining connections to chase down a rumor." The Prince finally retrieved a scroll wrapped in black dragonhide from a drawer.

"Not long ago, my people finally intercepted it. It was meant for Hector."

The Scroll slowly unrolled across the desk, the golden emblem of the Imperial two-headed eagle shimmering in the light.

This was no ordinary document. Every letter, written in the Old Imperial tongue, pulsed with Magic Power.

"My people tried to decipher it, but the Magic Contract on it is too complex. We’ve made little progress." Willandar gave a wry smile. "We were only able to make out a few words: ’Purge,’ ’Eradicate,’ ’Final Protocol’."

It all clicked into place. The rumors Prince Willandar had heard and this intercepted secret decree both pointed to the same thing.

Velin’s theory about the plague.

Willandar’s intercepted decree.

In that moment, the two pieces of the puzzle snapped together perfectly.

The truth had finally come to light.

Willandar’s tall frame faltered, and he instinctively reached out to brace himself on the edge of the desk.

He had always suspected but had never dared to confirm it. Now, his worst fears were reality.

His cousin on one side, his motherland on the other. The isolation and immense pressure were enough to crush any mortal man.

The study fell deathly silent, the only sound the crackling of logs in the fireplace.

Velin waited for the Prince to compose himself before asking directly, "Then, Your Highness, what will you do?"

Willandar slowly straightened. The eyes that had once earned him the title "Star of the Empire" now churned with a mixture of pain, conflict, and resolve.

"But I cannot run. The moment they decided to devour this land with plague and lies, I was left with no way out."

He raised his head, his gaze burning like a torch, the anguish gone. "My roots are here. My loyalty is here. If anyone seeks to destroy my country, then my only choice... is to stand in their way."

"But before that, I need time. Time to discern friend from foe. This plague... it’s like a great fire, conveniently burning away everyone’s masks."

He looked at Velin, then at the chest of potions.

"Your potions and your proposed solution are excellent. They have bought me that time. We must preserve enough of the Duchy’s strength to resist before the Empire bares its fangs."

For the first time, the prince known for his silence revealed his iron will to an outsider.

"But it’s not enough." Willandar’s gaze traveled through the window, out toward the seemingly prosperous Royal Capital. "The spring planting season has been completely missed. Fields throughout most of the Duchy lie fallow. Even if we stamp out the plague, a great famine will sweep the nation in its wake."

He turned back to look at Velin, his gaze deep as he spoke, enunciating every word.

"By then, the starving populace will become a weapon more terrifying than the Imperial Army. The Imperial Faction... and the emperor behind them will never let such an opportunity pass."

"I will find a way to solve the food problem," Velin replied calmly.

Willandar was taken aback. This was not a promise a Count, or even a Marquis, could make. But as he looked into Velin’s wine-red eyes, he saw not the slightest hint of panic.

’This young man always seemed to be able to work miracles in the most desperate of situations.’

"Good." Willandar didn’t press the issue. He rerolled the "Bloody Edict" and put it back in the desk drawer.

He walked up to Velin and extended his hand.

"From this day forward, the Duchy’s garrison will turn a blind eye to all activities in the White Tower Territory. If you need any intelligence, you can come directly to me."

Velin took his hand.

The hand was covered in the thick calluses of a man who had wielded a sword for years. It was dry, firm, and full of power.

Their hands clasped. No words were exchanged, but the handshake was as binding as an unbreakable oath.