Recovering mana on the move proved to be a challenge.
Mapping the ever-changing inter-dimensional cracks as their carriage raced on the highway?
Almost impossible. Using his in-world, wide-range syphon was easier, though less efficient.
Well, at least he didn't have to worry about creating a mana vacuum around himself. Unlike in the catacombs, where he'd have to wait for mana to resettle, they outrun the syphon's effects.
At least, the slower recharge didn't strain him—his nose had finally stopped bleeding.
No wonder, when his companions kept breaking his concentration.
"Haiten isn't safe, Master," Eyna argued even an hour later.
By then, he'd almost refilled half his mana pool.
A long rest, a good meal, and the lack of that cursed bracelet made things a little easier.
"Nowhere's safe," Konrad noted. "Even if I'd run and ignore the Code of Conduct, the Inquisition would consider me a threat. So might as well become one."
"You against the Church?" Sister Stella scoffed. "Good luck, Ser Prodigy."
She bounced back and forth between snarling and submission.
If it depended on how long she'd been away from open fires—that was an easy fix.
The boy snapped his thumb, a flame appearing on his fingertip.
Casting his spells without worrying about the mana again was nice.
Stella flinched at the spark, pulling her knees up and trying to shrink into the corner.
It was impossible—she was even taller than the blacksmith.
"Not against, around," Konrad corrected her. "Fighting's pointless, too many soldiers, and the Code also protects the Inquisitor. But only as long as there's no better candidate to run things."
"So, um, why'd you need my tribe then?" Welf scratched his head, playing coach again.
With fewer horses, they were slower, making conversations possible.
"Aren't they part of this Council thing?" Konrad turned the question around. "All I need is their backing. If the attack on Halaima didn't prove it, the tribes are following the wrong twin."
"Oh, yeah. Nimrod's a weirdo," the blacksmith nodded. "His blind zeal does more harm than—"
"The prophecy," Eyna interjected with a sudden yell. "As Ser Alastair quoted it, it felt a little odd."
The boy raised an eyebrow, glancing at the priest.
"Ah, um, as Lady Eyna pointed out," the old man cleared his throat. "It goes as 'the spirits cursed one twin and blessed the other'. But then it says that one will bring ruin—"
"No, exactly the other way around," the girl shook her head.
Konrad also remembered, but at the time, the exact wording hadn't seemed important.
"So the switched order was deliberate? The blessed brings ruin, the cursed brings the riches?"
He cared little about prophecies, but if the tribes did—
"There's no doubt you're the cursed one here," Welf grinned. Konrad wondered if he should feel insulted. At least Eyna seemed to be on board.
"If my tribe and the Blood Moons support this theory, the Council will have to accept it, too."
"I see how that'd pacify the tribes," Alastair sounded skeptical. "But Otto still controls Halaima."
The boy shrugged.
"He can keep that shithole for now—after destroying the nobility, it's worthless. Only those who escaped with us could run the lands. Do you think they'll work for the Church again?"
"So it only leaves the trade income." Eyna's purple eyes shone. "That's why we go to Haiten."
Konrad smirked. The girl had potential.
"Yes, it's the local trade hub now," he nodded. "And as our guest pointed out, the peddlers like to call me Prodigy. Who do you think they would rather trade with? A greedy Inquisitor, or me?"
He heard a scoff.
"If you think you can march into the village to take over business, you're delusional."
Sister Stella recovered from her scare faster than before, even if she looked pale.
And dirty. And she smelled terrible, too.
Well, they all did, except Eyna. That earlier adventure in the sewers did not help.
But that didn't affect his plans.
"No, you'll be marching into the village with Father Alastair," Konrad said, crossing his arms.
Now the priest paled, too.
"Otto—I mean the Inquisitor already arrested me," he protested, but the boy waved him off.
"His lapdog will tell everyone that they've reinstated you," he claimed. "Though, Eyna, could you do something with her hair at least? Make her somewhat presentable, please."
The purple eyes lit up as the dark-skinned beauty grabbed a hairbrush. She came prepared.
"Why'd I do that?!" The executioner gaped like a fish, her mouth wide in disbelief.
She was still trembling, even as dirty tangles disappeared from her long blonde hair. But she did her best to play the tough—until the boy's next line.
"Let's see—because otherwise I'd set you on fire?"
She glared, but he didn't flinch. Even if the priest was right, and her family used to serve his, any guilt faded as he remembered her torturing him.
After everything she'd done, he felt no reason to be gentle—she could handle a few threats.
"So that's it?" Welf sounded disappointed. "You plant the priest as your spy, and steal the funds?"
Konrad laughed. Not everyone was as bright as Eyna.
"No. They'll be a distraction. Father Alastair will get me the main ledger while I negotiate with the merchants. And then—I'll be demonstrating why I should be their only trading partner."
Haiten came into sight right as he finished.
The boy considered an evil laugh, but everything seemed so peaceful in the moonlight.
Nothing had changed since he had left the village about a month ago. But that'd end tonight.
"W-what demonstration?" The priest still didn't seem sold on the idea.
Welf slowed down the carriage as they got closer to the outskirts.
"A flashy one," Konrad grinned. "I'll burn the relay station down."
All the caravans kept their wares in there overnight, before continuing their journey.
His claim sure made the executioner uncomfortable, while the others seemed confused.
"How would that help, Master?" Eyna asked. "If anything, it'd alienate the peddlers—"
"No, it'll show that the hefty protection money the Church collects from them is for nothing. But I will reimburse them for their losses, and even offer better terms for future trade."
"How'd you do that?" Welf finally stopped the horses. "We have no money—"
His eyes widened when Konrad presented his large stash of adamantite.
Ten pounds—enough to buy the entire village twice over—even after he paid for all the wares he might burn.
"You steal our missing horse back, and be ready to leave at any moment," the boy said.
The blacksmith nodded, but still wouldn't take his eyes off the treasure pile.
Eyna finished brushing, making Stella, the androgynous beauty, more than presentable.
He might've fallen for a girl like her—but he already had a harem, and she was an evil bitch.
Konrad tried not to sound gleeful as he pointed at the executioner.
"You'd better behave. It'd be a shame to burn that nice, long hair of yours," he warned. "Father, go get the ledger—and the prophecy, if you still have it."
Then he paused, taking a deep breath to look over the moonlit Haiten.
It wouldn't be so peaceful after they left. The village where he'd spent his second childhood—
But no backing away now—everyone relied on his control.
"Let's go."