Chapter 9: Foolishness (Part 2)

The assassination of Bishop Ronis, the duke leading the Magic Academy and the Knights Templar to jointly hunt down the necromancer, the bounty on the perpetrator, and the duke's arrest of the finance minister with the announcement of a public execution of his daughter—all of these explosive events radiated out from the capital like shockwaves, sweeping through the surrounding towns.

Along with the rumors, the wanted posters and the duke's announcement spread rapidly. Whenever news reached a town, it would trigger an uproar. Adventurers, thieves, and mercenaries buzzed with excitement, while ordinary citizens wept for the fallen Bishop Ronis, displaying his likeness from the wanted poster at their doorsteps in hopes of avenging the revered elder. The tales of the events morphed in taverns, spawning dozens of versions, creating a commotion akin to a festival.

Sweetwater Town, a remote settlement in the eastern part of the empire, was similarly shaken by these seismic news waves. The tavern became a bustling center of activity, and the town hall was inundated with inquiries from adventurers seeking any updates. As the official response required them to conduct searches due to the official nature of the wanted notice, the mayor was exhausted by the end of the day.

After a long day of searches, the mayor finally sat down in his chair, letting out a sigh of relief. He turned to the sheriff to complain, "I don't understand why we even need to search. Would such a heretic criminal dare to come here brazenly and turn himself in?"

However, the sheriff didn't respond; it was as if he didn't hear him at all. His facial muscles seemed to be entirely out of control, his mouth agape as if he could fit his fist inside it, and his eyes bulged to the point of almost popping out.

The mayor, puzzled, followed the sheriff's gaze and turned to see a figure striding into the town hall. Immediately, his own expression twisted in shock.

The figure walked not just boldly but arrogantly, pushing aside the dazed onlookers in his path until he reached the official's desk. He glared at the mayor and asked in a low voice, "Are you the one in charge here?"

This person's eyes were bloodshot, his features twisted in a combination of rage, anxiety, and ferocity. Yet the reason for the stares wasn't his expression but rather his face.

Even contorted, his features were recognizable. This was the very face they had just been searching for—the face now known by every soul in town and hung on the wanted posters, worth five thousand gold coins.

"Are you the local authority here?" The now notorious fugitive slammed his hand on the mayor's desk, his voice rising to a roar, as though he were the one in control of the situation and justice.

Recovering from his shock, the sheriff drew his sword, but the command that followed emerged as a high-pitched scream instead of a strong order: "Someone, capture him!"

"Are you the mayor?" Ten minutes later, the blood-soaked fugitive kicked apart the mayor's desk and roared at the man cowering in the corner.

"Y-yes…" The mayor could hardly respond. The floor of the town hall was nearly filled with the wounded. The collective moans of over a hundred people formed an eerily dissonant chorus.

The fugitive stepped closer and grabbed the mayor. The mayor, realizing this vicious man was from the Necromancer Guild, thought he was about to become a skeleton or a zombie. His body betrayed him, and he lost control completely.

But the man only shouted at him, "You go to the capital and deliver a message. Tell Duke Murak to be careful. As he wishes, I will return."

Stepping over the sprawled bodies, Asa felt his insides boil with rage, as if they were being fried alive. Three figures floated in his mind: Bishop Ronis, Sandru, and Elaine, against a backdrop of the duke's smiling face and blood.

Today, as he passed through this small town, he had seen his own wanted poster in the tavern and learned of Bishop Ronis's death, which struck him like a thunderbolt.

Bishop Ronis. Although Asa often disagreed with his decisions and found him somewhat irritating, he knew that the old man, respected throughout the empire, genuinely cared for him and had made many efforts for his sake. To think that such a caring elder could die in such a senseless manner was unbearable.

At the same time, he learned that the Knights Templar and the Magic Academy had exhausted themselves in an effort to hunt down a necromancer. From the vivid descriptions, it was clear they were referring to Sandru. The news nearly made him vomit. Sandru, the peculiar necromancer, held a strangely significant place in Asa's heart.

There was no need for further contemplation; the duke's announcement had made everything clear.

The meaning behind the duke's proclamation was equally obvious: Return quickly. Either you die, or she dies.

Asa looked toward the west. That direction led to the capital. The setting sun painted the sky in shades of crimson, reminiscent of the duke's smile—kind yet tinged with the brutality of blood. It felt as if the duke were smiling down at him, beckoning, "Come quickly."

Since the duke had made a nationwide announcement, if Asa didn't show up, the duke would undoubtedly go through with burning Elaine alive. He had to return.

Not far outside the town hall, a throng of people had gathered, darkening the streets. Nearly the entire town had converged there. The moment he removed his mask to enter the town hall, someone recognized him, and the news spread like wildfire through the town. Adventurers and mercenaries rushed in, but the first groups that charged into the town hall emerged only to find a few badly injured. Consequently, the rest hesitated. Yet, as more people gathered, their courage grew, and soon, townsfolk armed with pitchforks and kitchen knives joined in.

Seeing him step out of the town hall, the assembled crowd erupted in a deafening roar and surged toward him. Asa leaped onto the rooftops and began to sprint westward.

In the capital, when the duke received Asa's message, he smiled with satisfaction.

The duke carefully inquired about the timing, location, and circumstances of Asa's appearance, even down to the man's expressions and movements. Satisfied, he nodded; he knew his trap had worked perfectly.

What is the most effective trap? It's one where the other party knows it's a trap yet feels compelled to step into it. The duke had always been a master of traps, adept at manipulating human nature.

However, he seemed unaware that the deeper his understanding of such things became and the more skillful he became in their application, the less of this quality remained in himself. This reached a new height when he decided to use his daughter as bait, fully aware that it might lead to her demise.

After making that decision, he had felt some sadness and disappointment, but that only lasted a short while. Rational assessments of the situation and power dynamics soon eclipsed that fleeting weakness. The diminishing presence of such vulnerabilities enabled him to think more clearly, more rationally, and without reservations. He became like a finely tuned machine, operating solely for power. Even he had to admit that in the realm of wielding power and employing tactics, he had climbed to great heights.

It was a height from where there was no turning back.

The duke's mind raced through the implications of the message he received. He quickly concluded that the message, sent deliberately, was merely the desperate howl of a cornered beast—a futile expression of despair and rage. Objectively, it would have no effect.

The messenger had delivered the message, but Asa had yet to make an appearance. Only two possibilities remained: one, he was looking for reinforcements.

That possibility was almost negligible. After all, Asa was now a wanted man, and no matter how capable anyone might be, no one would dare to help him. That would only implicate them in the assassination of Bishop Ronis.

The second possibility was that he was already in the capital, lying low, waiting for the right moment to act. With that thought, the duke immediately ordered the royal guard in the capital to remain on high alert and to triple the guards at the prison.

That boy will undoubtedly walk right into the trap. The duke was confident. Those bound by emotions, driven by their impulses, are the very definition of foolishness, incapable of escaping the intricately devised snare he had set.

The royal guard's prison was the one that the duke had ordered to be specially monitored. Outside, nearly a thousand elite soldiers were on standby, mixed in with several members of the Knights Templar and mages from the Magic Academy. The moment the wanted criminal's shadow was spotted, the Knights Templar led by Captain Roland could arrive within ten minutes.

Captain Roland had also inquired of the duke about Claudius and Elaine. Many ministers in court, even His Majesty the King, urged him to investigate further. However, the duke presented compelling evidence and expressed genuine emotions in his discussions with the King, shedding tears over his relationship with his daughter and his affection for her. Given the circumstances, he felt compelled to sacrifice his own kin to appease the spirit of Bishop Ronis and draw out the true culprit. Moved to tears, the King ceased his interference. As long as the King didn't intervene, the duke could act with impunity.

To be honest, this kind of earth-shattering action was not typical of the duke's usual style. However, he had more pressing matters to attend to. He needed to eliminate that boy as soon as possible because there were other things that followed.

The duke had imprisoned Claudius and Elaine together. Both were extremely important hostages and were kept together to prevent any unforeseen mishaps. Additionally, this arrangement reflected the duke's regard for Claudius's elusive father.

Truth be told, the duke had to admit some admiration for the wastrel Marquis Inham Ernie, whom he had always looked down upon. The fact that he could run away immediately after the deed was done was undeniably clever.

Once the assassination of the bishop was completed, the marquis's usefulness would vanish. The duke would definitely eliminate him to silence him, and once that was done, his son would not escape either.

On the contrary, if the marquis fled, the duke would naturally refrain from harming Claudius to maintain leverage over him. Therefore, fleeing at the first opportunity was indeed the wisest choice. He was a smart man, and the duke had to be wary of the tricks he might employ to save himself and his son.

However, the duke was not overly concerned about the marquis; at least, he was too busy dealing with Asa to pay him any mind. The marquis's actions were merely clever tricks. Looking at that wastrel's disheveled state, it was evident he had squandered his intellect and talent on indulgence and superficial pursuits, ultimately leading to his downfall, forced into a position of coercion by the duke.

Being tangled in emotional impulses was foolish, but those flashy little tricks were even more hopelessly foolish.

True wisdom lies in making decisive choices, in relinquishing all obstacles, focusing all energy on one's goals, and utilizing everything at one's disposal to achieve ultimate success—just like himself.

Thinking this, the duke felt a long-lost sense of ambition swell within him. He stood at the window.

The capital's radiant lights and grand architecture were all visible from here. The duke reached out, seemingly grasping at the view, his hands—marked with veins, scars, and traces of effort—gripped firmly and steadily, as if he could seize all the splendor before him, including the countless foolish people.

On the other side of the capital, in a heavily guarded dungeon, the feelings of the two individuals who were once the duke's closest companions were completely opposite to his. They could not see any prosperity or vitality, nor did they have any hope.

The conditions in the dungeon were not poor, even superior to an ordinary inn. Despite being prisoners, their status remained special. The duke had no intention of mistreating them; he hoped they would remain alive, at least while they were still useful.

There were no guards inside the dungeon. Anything the two said could potentially be highly confidential, so the duke didn't want to cause complications. Even the food delivered to them was brought in by a specially chosen deaf person.

Thanks to the efforts of the priests from the Magic Academy, Claudius had essentially survived. However, his mental state had nearly collapsed. Whenever he felt slightly better, he would rush to the steel bars, yelling to see Duke Murak, shouting until his voice gave out and throwing the food he received everywhere. Unfortunately, the duke had already issued a ban on how to treat these two prisoners; no matter how much he shouted, there was no response.

Once he stopped shouting, Claudius could only look at his completely useless hands, alternating between laughter and tears. Sometimes, he would bite his own hand until it bled, smashing everything in his cell to pieces. Other times, he would bang his head against the wall until it bled, but he never attempted suicide. For a time, Elaine suspected he had completely lost his mind.

Finally, after a particularly hysterical outburst, Claudius suddenly quieted down. In a weeping tone, he murmured, "So my only value to him now is this life," before curling up in a corner and falling asleep.

Elaine's days in the dungeon were far more peaceful and stable, though that tranquility was relative to Claudius's situation. After all, she was imprisoned by her father as bait to lure her beloved to his demise.

No matter what kind of woman found herself in such a predicament, it was already impressive that she didn't react hysterically like Claudius. However, after a day or two of wandering thoughts and anxiety, Elaine settled down. She ate the food sent to her diligently and rested well. Surprisingly, she began meditating, exercising in the confined space of her cell as if preparing for an upcoming competition like a gladiator. She completely ignored Claudius's raucous behavior.

"Hey. Can you hear me?" One day, Claudius suddenly spoke up. Though his voice was weak, it was no longer the frenzied yelling of before but genuine speech directed at someone else. There were no third parties in the dungeon.

Elaine was slightly surprised but replied calmly, "Yes. I can hear you."

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

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

Elaine was even more surprised; Claudius hadn't participated in the duke's plans and had spent most of his time unconscious. She couldn't help but ask, "How do you know why I'm being held here?"

"I overheard some soldiers talking on my way from the duke's residence to here. Bishop Ronis was assassinated, and that bastard is being hunted down... I can roughly guess what's going on. I know the duke well enough," Claudius replied.

"Oh, then you must know why he captured you as well," Elaine responded flatly. She had never held a favorable impression of him.

"Even if I didn't know before, I can probably guess now. I know my father met with the duke before Bishop Ronis was killed," Claudius's voice carried an underlying weepiness. "Do you know that we're both as good as dead? Since the duke is confident enough to imprison two people who know so much, he will definitely not let us leave alive to talk."

"Probably," she replied.

"Then why are you still so calm? Preparing every day? Fantasizing about him coming to rescue you, like the protagonists in a story breaking free together and escaping to live happily ever after? Haha…" Claudius attempted to laugh, but the sound came out as crying. Elaine's movements over the past few days had caught his attention. "Do you really think he will come to rescue you? Knowing it's a death sentence, would he still come? Is he that foolish?"

Elaine paused, murmuring almost to herself, "I hope he isn't that foolish. But… if he really does come, I must find a way to ensure his safe departure. I'll do my utmost."

"Ahahaha…" Claudius broke into tears again. "Since the duke arranged it this way, he will definitely not give you any chance to struggle. The moment that bastard comes to rescue you and gets captured, you two will truly be doomed."

"It seems you really know him well," Elaine said, her tone remaining flat.

"Know him… of course, I know him. I've been with him for so long… haha… I even know that he is surprisingly merciful towards me. He hasn't blinded my eyes or cut my tongue and limbs, allowing me to wait for death here in peace… haha."

Elaine chose not to respond. Claudius didn't ask any more questions; after another bout of crying, he fell silent.

After a few more days of silence, Claudius suddenly asked, "Do you know how many days are left until the duke's deadline for that bastard?"

"Thirteen days," Elaine replied. She kept track of the days diligently.

"Thirteen days. Heh. Take your time. Let's see who's the bigger fool: him for coming, or you for believing he will come."

Elaine didn't respond, continuing to do what she needed to do. Claudius also fell silent.

The next day, Claudius spoke again. "Twelve days left. The fool still hasn't shown up… No, maybe he has, but he's already been taken down by the soldiers outside. Hahahaha… What a real fool…"

Elaine ignored him.

"Eleven days left… That fool must have been caught by the duke. Hahaha. That detestable bastard duke wouldn't simply kill him off; he'd definitely enjoy torturing him slowly, slicing him piece by piece. That must be quite the delight. This is the kind of thing I should be doing, hehehe… But I can't anymore. Seems that fool had the foresight to make me useless first. Hahaha… Hey, are you listening?… Hey, say something… Are you dead?"

"Ten days left. Aren't you going to say anything? Don't you want to share your thoughts right now? Hahahaha…"

"Nine days left. That number isn't auspicious, you know? Did you hear that? You, the foolish woman who believes in that fool… Can you hear me? Hahaha…"

"Eight days left…" Claudius reported the date every day, often rambling on about things Elaine didn't care about, and indeed, she paid him no mind.

"Seven days left… Maybe someone will come to take you away soon. Will the duke kill you himself? Hehe… That decisive duke wouldn't hesitate to kill his own daughter. Every action is so rational and efficient. Truly my idol. Hahahaha…"

"Six days…," he continued. "Five days…," and "Four days…," until finally he called out, "Hey, foolish woman. Three days left…"

"Are you not going to remind me today? Tomorrow is the last day," Elaine suddenly spoke up. Perhaps she had grown accustomed to his noise over the past few days or felt some discomfort inside that made her want to talk to someone.

"I'm tired. I don't want to say anything more," Claudius's tone was steady now, no longer the madness of before. In fact, as time went on, he seemed to grow calmer, not having spoken a word yesterday.

"And I've been thinking for last a few days," he added.

"About what?" Elaine felt something stirring within her, a desire to talk, even to the person she found most detestable in the world.

Claudius let out a sigh. "I've just realized that I am far inferior to you. We both know we're going to die, yet you remain so calm, preparing for an event that has only a one-in-a-million chance of happening. Meanwhile, I'm nearly going mad. Even now, I don't dare face reality, hoping for some kind of miracle… I now understand something my father once said: the higher you climb, the harder you fall, and the more painful the fall, the clearer you become. I am completely awake now. It's strange; I hated my father the most, yet he is the one I miss the most right now…"

He seemed to pour out all his feelings, speaking without stopping. "Actually, I was recognized as the most outstanding genius of my generation in the family since I was young. But because of my father, I faced disdain everywhere and was ostracized by others. I might not even have the qualifications to take over the family. I was unwilling, so I worked even harder, swearing to myself that I would be outstanding, that I would have the greatest power, that I would stand at the top of this world and become the strongest. Finally, I became Captain Roland's disciple and had the chance to inherit the position of leader of the Knights Templar. I was thrilled. It was at this time that I met Duke Murak."

"The duke was so strong, so intelligent, so adept at vying for power, and his methods were so brilliant. He was the one who could stand at the pinnacle of the world. He was truly my idol, my life goal. So I resolved to follow him, to become a person like Duke Murak."

"When I became the duke's right-hand man, I was overjoyed, feeling as though I had reached the top of the world. I regarded him as a deity; his commands even held more weight than my own will. It's strange to say, but I admired him so much because he knew how to utilize people, including me. When I lost my value, he would treat me like a rag and throw me away… What's wrong? Do you still find me detestable? Not saying anything?"

"No. I'm just surprised; I'm just… surprised," Elaine replied, her voice indeed carrying a hint of astonishment.

"Surprised by what?"

"Surprised that you're also a person." Elaine's tone returned to its usual calmness.

"Maybe it's because we're about to die. But it seems you'll be the one to go first. You'll die tomorrow." Claudius's voice was even more subdued than Elaine's, carrying emotion but lacking vitality, almost sounding like a ghost speaking.

"...Yeah. Maybe."

"Do you really think he will come to rescue you? Unfortunately, if he is going to come, the sooner the better. The longer it takes, the tighter the guards outside will be. Even if he comes to the execution site, he'll be dying with you. The fact that he hasn't shown up until now only means he won't come."

"If he really doesn't come, then that's for the best." After Elaine spoke those words, she felt a wave of relief, mixed with a touch of sorrow. Her eyes became moist.

"He's not the fool; you've turned into the fool."

"Hmph, aren't you a fool too?"

"Haha. Yes, I am a fool." This was the first time Claudius had ever mocked himself. "But you, fool, will die before me. Just tomorrow."

"Tomorrow…" Elaine sighed deeply, her somber voice echoing in the dungeon.