That deep crimson figure did not stay in sight for long. The woman gently dabbed the corners of her lips with a plain white handkerchief and, surrounded by her silent entourage, walked briskly toward a black carriage not far away.
The carriage door opened and closed, swallowing that rich splash of red.
“Staring blankly?”
Ophelia’s slightly playful voice sounded beside him, breaking the somewhat stagnant air. The young girl tilted her head slightly, studying Luo Lan’s face.
“Though she is indeed a first-rate beauty… I should kindly warn you, Mr. Luo Lan, you’d better not harbor any improper thoughts about that woman. Grand Duke Claudia, Her Excellency Liadelin—she is likely the highest-ranking woman within the Holy See right now.”
“The highest-ranking woman?” Luo Lan asked in confusion.
“That’s right. You should know that in the entire history of the Holy See, few people have held the positions of Secretary of State, Cardinal, and Prefect of the Papal Household simultaneously, let alone a woman.” Ophelia held up her fingers, counting them one by one.
“Then is there also a highest-ranking man?”
“The highest-ranking man is her current political rival, Aries St. Francisco. If she is in charge of the See’s political affairs, he is the one responsible for defense.”
Luo Lan withdrew his gaze from the direction where the carriage had disappeared and curled his lip. “I just didn’t expect a legendary figure to be so young.”
In his previous life, Luo Lan had never actually met this Iron Lady of the Church. Information about her was limited to a few words hidden in the background lore.
Despite being frail and sickly since childhood, Liadelin had risen to the top during the power struggles following the old Pope’s death through incredible will and maneuvering. Later, when the Holy See established its own nation, she quietly retreated behind the scenes, becoming the firmest shadow and support for the Saintess Group—a legendary woman with a tragic fate who lived in the margins of history.
However, the prologue of this life was already shaped like the Demon King route. Would the plot on the Holy See’s side still follow the established trajectory?
The group passed the inspection of the palace gate guards and was led toward the gardens deep within the palace by an expressionless attendant. The corridors were wide and silent, with huge portraits of past kings and heroes hanging on the walls on both sides.
Clovie’s footsteps moved a bit closer without a sound. The girl turned her head to squint at him, lowering her voice to speak with a hint of teasing. “So you like that style of person?”
Before Luo Lan could react, Clovie continued. “Powerful, holding authority, yet somehow looking very fragile. The mixture of two contradictory traits does have a dangerous attraction, doesn’t it?”
Hearing this, the youth hurriedly waved his hand. “Don’t talk nonsense. When did I ever say I liked that type? Besides, a woman like that looks dangerous at a glance. I’d rather avoid her if I could.”
The group passed through the final archway, and the view suddenly opened up.
The palace garden was maintained with lush green vitality by exquisite magic even in winter. However, the moment Luo Lan stepped onto the garden path, an invisible chill suddenly climbed up his spine to the back of his neck.
About seven or eight gazes, a mix of perception and surveillance, projected from various hidden corners of the garden to land on their group.
In the center of the garden stood a simple white marble pavilion. Inside, a man in a dark gray formal suit stood with his back to them, focused on the tea set on a small table.
From the movements of his back, he seemed to be brewing tea.
The leading attendant stopped several steps outside the pavilion and announced them clearly and respectfully.
Upon hearing the voice, the man in the pavilion stopped his movements. He stood up and turned around, a warm and hearty smile already on his face. Although his hair was mostly gray, it was groomed meticulously. He had a high bridge to his nose, exceptionally bright gray eyes, and his physique was well-maintained. His suit fit perfectly, and he didn’t have the overwhelming aura one might imagine.
He was the true ruler of the current Kingdom of Rhodelan, the Prince Regent, Grand Duke Augustus—Alfonso Augustus.
“Welcome, welcome.” Alfonso’s voice was quite resonant. “My thanks to these two beautiful and noble young ladies for taking the time out of their busy schedules to accompany a crude man like me for afternoon tea. In this winter garden, I was relying on your smiles to add some brilliance.”
Luo Lan’s gaze bypassed him and landed on the small table inside the pavilion. Besides the tea set the Regent had just used, another white porcelain cup sat nearby, with steam still curling from the tea inside.
Alfonso followed Luo Lan’s gaze to the cup, looking a bit embarrassed. He raised a hand to scratch his temple and spoke. “Before you all came in, you must have encountered the guest from the Church, right? I really have to admit I’m getting old… to have such a sharp aura at such a young age. When I was her age, I was just a green boy in the military camp who didn’t understand anything.”
The group took their seats around the round table in the pavilion.
Alfonso had the attendants place soft, warm cushions on the chairs and brought out several plates of exquisite snacks, then exchanged brief pleasantries with Ophelia and Clovie.
Then, his gaze naturally turned toward Luo Lan, who had remained silent.
“This must be Mr. Luo Lan. I have heard your name in the court. To be personally selected for the Radiant Class by the Director of the Atlas Institute… that is not something just anyone can achieve.”
Luo Lan gave a dry smile, but couldn’t help muttering in his heart—was hitting that old geezer with one elbow last time too easy on him?
After the brief pleasantries, the smile on Alfonso’s face faded slightly, and his tone became solemn.
He looked first at Ophelia, then at Clovie, and spoke. “I heard that the two of you were attacked in the capital region a few days ago. I truly broke out in a cold sweat. For there to be such rampant madmen near the capital, who not only dared to attack nobility but whose accomplices could even stage a jailbreak from the heavily guarded capital prison…”
Luo Lan sat quietly to the side, his gaze lowered as if he were concentrating on studying the delicate patterns on the porcelain cup. Right as Alfonso’s voice paused, a faint throb suddenly came from the Magic Cube in his mind without any warning.
The Little Iron Book floated quietly in his consciousness. On the automatically opening pages, a line of shimmering prompts slowly surfaced.
[High-relevance target detected. Enable active recording?]
[Sacred relic ‘Boundary Dancer’ has been stored as a sacrifice. Conceptual Fantasy active recording slots +1. Currently able to select target for information recording.]
A high-relevance target…
Luo Lan’s thought brushed silently over those words. He looked up at the gentle-faced Prince Regent Alfonso.
Given that His Highness the Prince Regent was at the center of the upcoming plot vortex, Luo Lan did not hesitate to confirm in his consciousness.
In an instant, light flowed across the pages of the Little Iron Book. Countless indistinguishable symbols and lines flashed past and recombined, finally forming several lines of clear script on the page.
[Target confirmed: Alfonso Augustus]
[True Name: Alfonso Ignatius Ya Samuel]
***
Luo Lan’s pupils constricted suddenly.
This was absolutely not a common naming format in the Kingdom of Rhodelan, nor did it belong to any known ancient noble lineage in the kingdom. This structure with the syllable “Ya” was more like the survivors of certain kingdoms that had long since vanished into the dust of history.
This Prince Regent of the kingdom actually had a True Name that did not belong to this land?
This caused the expression on Luo Lan’s face to stiffen for a split second.
“Mr. Luo Lan?”
Alfonso’s concerned voice rang out, dragging Luo Lan back from his turbulent thoughts.
“Are you a bit tired? I see your face looks a bit pale. It’s no wonder; there have been many things happening in the capital recently, and you young people are busy with your studies while dealing with all sorts of emergencies cooked up by the Director…”
His tone was gentle, as if he truly were just a considerate elder.
Before the recovered Luo Lan could respond, he changed the subject and continued in a joking tone. “Actually, even I think the Director of the Atlas Institute acts with rather poor taste. So, he deserves to have his face swollen from a beating, haha.”
“Cough—cough—”
Ophelia, who was taking a small sip of tea, suddenly choked. She hurriedly covered her mouth with a handkerchief, her eyes wide and full of disbelief.
“Have… have the Director’s face beaten swollen?” Ophelia said in surprise. “That Lord Director? How… how is that possible?”
She naturally knew about Luo Lan returning late last night, and she also learned this morning about Liadelin being attacked and the Director stepping in. Combining that with the current gossip about the Director, an incredibly absurd thought began to take root in her mind.
—It… couldn’t be, right?
The afternoon sun slowly shifted across the bottom of the cooling teacups.
After about the time it took to drink two pots of tea, Alfonso did not ask them to stay. He rose to see them off, walking with the three of them all the way to the entrance of the cloister connecting the garden to the inner palace.
The winter sunset shone on his mottled gray hair, but it never seemed to reach the depths of his eyes.
An attendant led the way silently, guiding the group through the long palace corridors and back onto the open square in front of the palace.
The Blanche family carriage was already waiting to one side. Ophelia walked toward her carriage, the door held open by an attendant. Just as she lifted her skirt to board, Luo Lan’s voice sounded behind her.
“Miss Ophelia, there’s something I want to ask you.”
The blonde girl turned back, looking at him quietly.
“His Highness the Prince Regent—is he a native-born Rhodelan?”
The question was quite abrupt. Ophelia blinked and responded softly. “Such a thing… to be honest, I am not very sure either. The history of the Augustus family is certainly very long; they are one of the pillars of the kingdom. Prince Alfonso’s appearance generally fits our impression of Rhodelan nobility… but there are always some places that make one feel a slight exotic touch. Perhaps it’s my imagination; after all, the kingdom’s history is long, and the blending of bloodlines is common.”
Hearing this, Luo Lan nodded thoughtfully. “Thank you.”
Ophelia gave him a slight nod and turned to board the carriage. Luo Lan also returned to the Lufinius family carriage, sitting opposite the perpetually silent Clovie.
Luo Lan leaned back against the seat, his gaze fixed on the street scenery rushing past the window. In his mind, however, Ophelia’s words and the True Name of the Prince Regent that had appeared in the Little Iron Book echoed repeatedly.
***
Still the palace garden.
The last rays of the setting sun faded into the clouds, and the sky turned a somber color.
The attendants and guards here had long been dismissed to a distance where they could not hear the voices in the pavilion. Those ubiquitous eyes in the garden also seemed to tactfully withdraw their sharp edges at this moment.
Paris knelt on one knee on the cold stone ground, his head lowered. The bandages on his chest showed a faint outline beneath his uniform, and his face was pale.
He had maintained this posture of seeking punishment for some time.
Alfonso stood with his back to him, hands behind his back, watching the depths of the garden being swallowed by the twilight. His tall figure looked like a silent reef in the deepening gloom.
“So, not only did you mess up the mission and let the sacred relic be taken away, but you also let the other party… retreat unscathed.”
His voice betrayed no emotion.
Paris lowered his head even further. “It was your subordinate’s incompetence. The operation failed. As the person directly responsible, I cannot escape blame. I ask Your Highness to hand down punishment.”
Alfonso gave a faint hum. He slowly turned around, his gaze falling on Paris’s lowered head. There was no anger in his eyes, no disappointment, nor any obvious emotion.
“Punishment…” He muttered the word softly once more. “Paris, how long have you been by my side?”
Paris was slightly stunned, clearly not expecting the other to suddenly ask this. He hesitated for a moment and answered, “From the year I was twelve, when Your Highness found me in a pile of refugees and brought me to your side… until now, it has been exactly twenty years.”
“Twenty years.” Alfonso sighed softly. “Time passes so quickly. So quickly that it can make one forget many, many things.”
He stepped forward, bending down to support Paris’s arm. “Get up.”
Paris stood up somewhat unsteadily. The movement pulled at the wound on his chest, causing beads of cold sweat to break out on his temples.
Alfonso kept one hand on his arm and used the other to gently pat his other, uninjured shoulder. His gaze inadvertently swept across Paris’s uniform collar, which had opened slightly as he stood up, catching sight of a small emblem embroidered inside on the shirt.
The emblem was not prominent; the embroidery was even a bit crude, and the color had faded, but the pattern was still clear.
It belonged to a country that no longer existed—to a kingdom from decades ago or even longer, which had been annexed and then wiped from the map during the expansion of the Kingdom of Rhodelan’s iron cavalry.
Alfonso walked back to the stone table on his own and pulled a flat flask and two glass cups from beneath it. “Sit.”
Paris sat opposite him, somewhat stiffly.
Alfonso uncorked the flask and filled the two glasses. He pushed one toward Paris and drained the other himself. “Paris, in your view, what exactly is a nation?”
Hearing this, the knight captain was taken aback.
Alfonso didn’t seem to expect an answer. He looked up, his gaze passing over Paris to the meticulously trimmed trees and arranged statues in the garden.
“I have lived on this land… for a long, long time. So long that I am almost unable to speak my former language.”
“I used to not understand why the elders looked so sad when they realized I couldn’t understand them.”
“But now, I understand.”
Alfonso’s voice dropped even lower.
“Therefore, every minute and every second I spend standing on this land makes me feel incredibly nauseated.”
He poured himself another glass of wine and drank it. As the spicy liquid slid down his throat, his brow furrowed for a moment before smoothing out. He put down the glass and his gaze fell back onto Paris’s face.
“However, endure for a bit longer, Paris. For you, and for me, endure for a bit longer.”
“The time for this country to pay the price for everything it has done is not far off.”