Act 4
The carriage pulled away from the palace, the rhythmic clip-clop of the horses' hooves providing a steady beat to Leornars' cold calculations. Inside the plush interior, Leornars leaned back, his blue slippers resting casually on the velvet ottoman.
"He signed it faster than I expected," Stacian remarked, adjusting her straw hat. "His desperation is a pungent scent. But My Lord, you mentioned he was overwhelmed by the conditions. Which ones specifically? He seemed to think 0.5% interest was a blessing."
Leornars let out a soft, melodic chuckle, his crimson eyes flickering. "The 'blessing' is the bait, Stacian. The hook is the Collateral Escalation Clause. If the Dirrium treasury fails to meet a single monthly installment—which they will, once I manipulate the trade tariffs next week—the debt isn't settled in gold. It's settled in territorial sovereignty."
He tapped a holographic map of the kingdom. "I'm taking small shares of specific locations. By mid-winter, I'll legally own the ground beneath the Capital's granaries, the port's deep-water docks, and most importantly... the Academy."
"You want the school?" Stacian asked, her cyan eyes narrowing in thought.
"Knowledge is power, but controlling the source of knowledge is absolute, whomever controls the knowledge contros the next generations" Leornars replied.
As the carriage crossed the bridge back toward the school, the magical printer in the corner finished its task. A thick stack of ancient, transcribed parchment slid onto the table. Leornars flipped through them until he reached a section sealed with the "Fear Mark" of the Eastern Empire.
His eyes scanned the text, and for the first time that day, they widened in genuine interest.
"Stacian, look at this," he murmured. "The Royal Archives contain a legend hidden from the public. Beneath the Western Court of the Eastern Empire, at the lowest floors of the Labyrinth of Humira, lies a dormant artifact. A weapon of mass disruption so volatile that even the Empress—a woman who has conquered three nations—refuses to excavate it."
"A weapon that makes a Queen tremble?" Stacian whispered.
"This sounds extremely fascinating," Leornars said, a thrill of curiosity dancing in his voice. "A variable that even I hadn't accounted for."
With a snap of his fingers, a rift of black flame opened on the floor of the carriage. Out stepped Ascian, his Inferno Wolf. The beast was a terrifying shadow of flickering embers and obsidian fur, its eyes glowing like molten lava. It bowed low, allowing Leornars to pile the sensitive documents into the enchanted satchel on its back.
"Take these to the safe house, Ascian," Leornars commanded. "The shadows must not see these yet."
Hours later, the "White plague "was back in his seat, the picture of a diligent student. He was taking notes on "High-Northern Geography," his pen moving with mechanical precision. To any observer, he was focused on the lecture.
In reality, his mind was a command center. Beneath the table, he held a small obsidian orb. Through it, he was commanding three hundred high-tier Undead Wraiths currently flooding the city's shadows.
"Search every cellar. Every sewer. Every hidden basement," he commanded telepathically. "Find the scent of chains and demi-human misery. I want the locations of every slave-trading ring in Dirrium by midnight."
He leaned slightly toward Stacian, who sat beside him in her yellow sundress, looking like the most wholesome student in the room.
"The city is a hive of rot," Leornars whispered under his breath as the Professor droned on. "But we need a base of operations outside the Academy walls. Find me a warehouse in the industrial sector—somewhere with thick walls and poor drainage. We need to resume production of the Pollium drug."
Stacian's pen didn't stop moving. "The addictive stimulant that doubles a soldier's mana pool while rotting their marrow? A bold move, My Lord. If we flood the market here, the Dirrium army will be high on power and dead within a year."
"Precisely," Leornars said, his red earring glinting. "We give them the strength they crave, and in return, they give us their lives. It's the ultimate trade-off. Logic, Stacian. Always logic.Dirrium the kingdom of might,ironical "
At the front of the room, Prince Kaelen looked back at them, his eyes filled with suspicion and hatred. He saw two beautiful youths whispered like lovers; he had no idea they were currently discussing the chemical warfare that would end his kingdom.
The bell for the mid-day break rang with a melodic chime, echoing through the stone corridors of the Academy. As the other students scrambled to find their lunch cohorts, the "White Devil" remained seated, his fingers idly spinning his pen.
Stacian leaned over, her yellow straw hat casting a soft shadow over her face. She tapped his notebook, which was filled with complex chemical formulas for the Pollium drug disguised as geometry sketches.
"My Lord," she said, her voice dropping the icy edge of a Prime Minister for the soft, playful tone of a schoolmate. "The Professor was staring at you for twenty minutes. I think he's convinced you're a genius, or he's terrified you're rewriting his curriculum in your head."
Leornars looked up, the glow in his crimson eyes softening just a fraction. "He's not wrong on either count. But his lecture on 'Northern Flora' was actually... surprisingly adequate. Did you know the Blue Frost-Lily only blooms when the soil is rich in mana-conductive iron?"
Stacian giggled, a sound that made Prince Kaelen, who was watching from across the room, scowl in confusion. "Is the conqueror of the South actually interested in gardening?"
"Logic, Stacian," Leornars replied with a faint, genuine smirk. "If I own the land, I should know what grows on it. Besides..." He reached out and gently adjusted the ribbon on her yellow sundress. "The color suits the sunlight in this courtyard. It would be a waste not to appreciate the aesthetics of our 'conquest'."
They stood up and made their way to the Academy's central plaza. Without their usual entourage, the two of them looked like a high-profile couple from a fairy tale—the pale, mysterious prince and his vibrant, blue-haired lady.
"The cafeteria food here is a crime against humanity," Stacian remarked as they walked past the dining hall, the smell of boiled cabbage wafting out. "I took the liberty of having a private chef stationed in our 'embassy.' Shall we walk to the gardens? The air is clearer there."
Leornars nodded, his blue slippers clicking softly on the cobblestones. They found a secluded stone bench under a massive weirwood tree. Stacian produced a small, enchanted wicker basket. She handed him a sandwich wrapped in silver foil—Southern smoked salmon and creamed herbs.
"You know," Stacian said, sitting close enough that her shoulder brushed his white shirt, "if you didn't have ashen skin and glowing eyes, people might actually think you were a normal seventeen-year-old, Leornars."
"Perish the thought," Leornars teased, taking a bite of the sandwich. The warmth of the sun and the quiet company felt like a brief, necessary reset. "Being normal sounds terribly inefficient. Who would manage the five trillion gold coins?"
"I suppose I would have to," she countered, leaning her head back to look at the leaves. "But for now, just for today... you look like a student who has actually done his homework."
Leornars smiled—a real one, small and private. "I did do it. I also corrected the textbook's errors on page 42. The historical inflation rates of the Dirrium Crown were off by 3%."
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, enjoying the "wholesomeness" of a quiet school afternoon. But as the wind picked up, Leornars' gaze drifted toward the industrial smoke rising from the city in the distance. The peace was a thin veil over a sharp blade.
"Enjoy the quiet, Stacian," Leornars said softly, his voice returning to that calm, melodic authority. "Because while we sit here, my Undead are moving through the sewers. By tonight, the 'innocence' of this school day will be replaced by the scent of a hunt."
"I know, My Lord," she replied, adjusting her straw hat with a sharp, knowing glint in her cyan eyes. "I've already sharpened my heels. A lady shouldn't go to a warehouse raid unprepared."