"My father has agreed to accept your conditions."
It hadn't taken long to get a response. A day at most.
"…Really?"
"You're the one who made the demand, so what's with that expression?"
"..."
Part of him had hoped that the furious House of Fridien would reject the demand outright, knowing how unreasonable—and frankly rude—it was.
Even if things were patched up afterward, there would still be lingering problems. And if the situation escalated, it could turn into a conflict between noble houses. But even then, that would've been preferable.
At least better than a future where Fernan was branded a monster and ruined.
'In fact, that would've been the best outcome.'
If the prophecy were clearer, like the others, he could have simply responded accordingly. But this time was different.
When, where, and how it would happen—he didn't know any of it.
All he knew was that something was going to happen.
When a storm is coming, the wisest course is to avoid it. But this time, fate didn't seem to allow that.
"…Thanks for accepting such a ridiculous demand."
"My father thinks highly of you."
Probably not him specifically, but the Pallenberg family as a whole.
'Unless the monsters already have their claws in him.'
The fact that there were no obvious signs on the surface yet problems still arose suggested things were moving behind the scenes.
And that strongly implied there might be someone aiding them from the inside.
'Just how far have those bastards spread their influence?'
There were far too many things to be concerned about.
'Could it be Aria Fridien…?'
Wasn't she the one who said she was the one who had tried to make Fernan the figurehead?
No, that couldn't be it. Aria Fridien was one of Aint's companions, clearly mentioned in the prophecy. There was no way she was involved.
'But there's no such thing as absolute certainty.'
While mulling over contingency plans, Fernan shifted the topic.
"So when exactly do we depart?"
"In six days. You mentioned a week yesterday, so this is the earliest we could go."
"Not bad."
He would've preferred it sooner, but a week was still something.
"Now that things are set, I have to ask—was it really necessary to go this far?"
"It was."
"And why's that?"
"You don't need to know."
"Yes, I do."
Aria shook her head firmly.
"You accepted the conditions, which means the request is proceeding normally. And since I'm the client, shouldn't I be informed? There shouldn't be any secrets when it comes to business matters."
"The client is officially the Marquis of Fridien."
There was no separate contract between Aria and Fernan, and the merchant agreement passed through her father confirmed the same.
"But I'm his representative."
"Do you have proof of that?"
"…Blood?"
"Bring me clear proof that you're the designated representative. Maybe then I'll tell you something."
Fernan stood from his seat.
"Wait, where are you going?"
"Obviously, to prepare for the trade expedition. You think something that large organizes itself?"
"I thought we just had to show up."
That would be true—if the monsters didn't try anything funny.
Without waiting for her reply, Fernan left the private room. But he wasn't alone for long.
"What now?"
"Even if I'm not formally listed as a representative, it's clear I'm a member of House Fridien, isn't it?"
And there was no one more connected to a noble house than direct blood relatives—she wasn't wrong.
"Which means I have the right to observe and participate in preparations for the expedition."
"You're saying you're going to follow me around?"
"To put it simply—yes."
"..."
Fernan considered whether he could escape Aria if he seriously tried to run.
'Nope.'
She was an elf—one known for exceptional speed and agility. He might be able to shake her off using artifacts, but that felt like a waste for something like this.
"There's not much to gather at the Academy branch anyway—at most, just some spare potions or consumable reagents."
Whether Aria had any connection to the Aberrants was questionable, but since most of the important things had already been entrusted to Hyde, it didn't really matter.
"Do as you please."
"Thank you. Then shall we go? Where to first?"
Aria smiled brightly.
That smile looked rather desperate, which made it a little pitiful.
'Well, if an intruding stone wants to dislodge the one already embedded, it'll have to put in that much more effort.'
Simply pushing forward like this wouldn't necessarily build connections or earn recognition from the other successor candidates of the prince-electors.
'Surely she didn't join hands with the Aberrants just for that, right?'
He had no intention of insulting someone who was doing their best in their own way.
"Oh, by the way, I heard something happened at the yacht club? I heard Ainte received an invitation from them—would it be possible for me to attend too?"
"Get lost."
…Maybe not.
Time passed quickly.
Since there wasn't a direct teleportation circle to the Friedien territory, fernan left the Academy four days early with Hyde and Aria.
The journey to Friedien wasn't particularly long. There was a teleportation circle installed in a nearby city, so they teleported there and then traveled on foot to the Marquess of Friedien's estate.
That journey took three days. They arrived in the provincial capital exactly one day before the upper caravan's scheduled departure.
"I'll need to report to my father as well. Once we reach the castle, I'll send some escorts right away. It would be quite troublesome if anything happened to you while you're in our territory."
It was an unnecessary courtesy, but something to accept when stepping onto another's land.
"Understood."
Rather than heading to the Marquess's castle, fernan first visited the Golden Turtle Merchant Group's Friedien branch.
"Welcome, Young Master."
The branch chief of the Golden Turtle Merchant Group in Friedien, sporting a neat mustache, greeted him warmly.
"Is everything ready?"
"All preparations are complete. The only issue was the lack of suitable rest stops along the way, but fortunately, His Excellency intervened."
"That's a relief."
fernan checked the supplies loaded onto the carriages. Ten carriages filled to the brim—this was by no means a small shipment.
'So one of these contains a branch of the World Tree.'
"Which one is it?"
"The fourth carriage, sir."
"Who knows about it?"
"Only myself and a few senior members of the merchant group."
Since they couldn't use teleportation magic, the schedule was fairly tight.
They had to pass through two territories to get from Friedien's capital to the port city of Kaid, and then sail for several more days to reach the Academy.
The whole trip was estimated to take about two to three weeks.
'Even without the World Tree, we wouldn't have used a teleportation circle.'
Transporting this volume via teleportation would've required an enormous amount of magic stones.
From a cost-benefit perspective, it would've been a net loss—something no merchant would choose.
"Hyde, did my father send a reply?"
"Yes. Our family's warships are currently en route to Kaid. The goods will be transferred along the way."
"Not bad."
Just as fernan finished confirming everything, the escorts from the castle arrived.
"Prince fernan Pallenberg, we've been sent by the Marquess."
"We're here to escort you."
They were ten elves with sharp, focused gazes—each one clearly a formidable warrior.
"Let's go."
It was time to meet the Marquess of Friedien.
The Marquessate of Friedien.
They were a house that had long settled in the southern part of the continent, and originally, they had not been part of the Empire.
The former royal family of the Elven Kingdom, Elven.
A clan that worshipped the sacred World Tree and ruled over the forest.
The Friedien territory still reflected that heritage, distinctly different from other imperial domains.
'More precisely, it's a matter of racial identity.'
A city interwoven with nature, pointed ears, and in the far distance—the tree of the world.
Rumor had it that spirits often wandered the land, but with fernan's poor affinity for spirits, he couldn't see them.
"Welcome."
The Marquess of Friedien appeared young. Though elves had lifespans comparable to humans, their youthful appearance made this unsurprising.
His hair color was similar to Aria's, which made him seem more like her brother than her father.
"It's an honor to meet you, Lord Marquess. I'm fernan Pallenberg, entrusted with this upper caravan."
"I know. I requested you myself—it'd be strange not to recognize the person I asked for."
He let out a hearty laugh, one that didn't quite match his youthful appearance. His overall demeanor wasn't bad.
fernan had expected him to be angry about the sudden request to move up the schedule.
It had to be one of two things: either the Marquess was simply an easygoing man, or assigning fernan as the lead was more important to him than the schedule.
"I've had a meal prepared. Aria told me you hadn't eaten lunch yet."
"Thank you for the meal."
In the grand banquet hall were only Marquess Freid Friedien, the Marquess's wife, their daughter Aria, fernan, and Hyde.
"Is the food to your taste?"
fernan replied while lightly slicing his steak.
"Yes. I can see now why elven cuisine has such a reputation."
"Elves do have quite the palate."
Marquess Freid smiled pleasantly.
"Aren't you curious? Why I specifically requested you?"
"I heard a rough explanation from Aria… but isn't that the whole story?"
"Of course not. If you're the one in charge, the Pallenbergs will naturally pay close attention. But even if not, we can't afford to be careless, can we?"
That was true.
Even putting aside the matter of being a prince-elector, the Friedien family was a powerful and wealthy group.
As long as they paid enough, the Golden Turtle Merchant Group was always prepared to give their best.
"So, what is it?"
"Well, let me just come out and ask—have you considered getting engaged to Aria?"
"I'll decline."
fernan replied without a moment of hesitation.
Though the Friedien family had secured a prince-elector seat and held the full support of the elves within the empire, fernan had no reason to tie himself down in a political marriage.
To begin with, fernan had far better options than Friedien.
"Hmm. I suppose that was a bit sudden?"
"Yes, it was."
"I understand."
The Marquess brushed it off casually.
Neither the Marquess's wife nor Aria showed any change in expression, simply continuing their meal, and the Marquess quickly changed the topic.
"Then let's talk a bit about business. I already heard from the branch chief, but since you've changed the schedule, I'd like to hear the details from you directly."
"Yes, actually…"
And until the end of the meal, the Marquess never once asked why the schedule had been moved forward.
"A letter from the young master."
The duke slowly and carefully read the neatly written letter.
"I'm glad the conversation went well. Proceed as planned."
"Yes, Your Grace."
"What do you think?"
"I don't believe the young master has any reason to lie."
"I think so too."
By then, the second piece of evidence had already been delivered to the family.
Two Aberrants who had tried to kill Ainte Armian.
After confirming that they had disguised themselves as members of the Golden Turtle Merchant Group, the duke realized—they were trying to drag the Pallenbergs into the swamp.
"Those vermin dare…!"
A thousand years was a long time.
Long enough for humans to forget the existence of demons—and for the demons to forget the terror they once held for the prince-electors.
"To think so many Aberrants might be hiding within our family and the merchant group… and we never noticed. It's laughable."
The duke let out a self-deprecating chuckle. This was, without a doubt, his own failure.
"What about the Dragon God Cult?"
"They said they'll soon send the items they promised. Since they're also aware of the Aberrants, the conversation went smoothly."
Once the goods from the Dragon God Cult arrived, a full-scale search for Aberrants infiltrating the family would begin.
Of course, they couldn't make it obvious.
The greatest strength of the enemy was that no one knew the Aberrants had reemerged. And likewise, the same held true in reverse.
That complacency—the belief that they still hadn't been discovered—was currently one of the two sharpest daggers the Pallenbergs held. The first was, of course, money.
"For now, fulfill all of fernan's requests."
"Yes, I'll do my utmost."
Tap, tap.
Even so, the duke's fingers drumming on the desk quickened, as if something still bothered him.
"…We'll have to assume the worst."
"Your Grace?"
"It's clearly a trap laid by the Aberrants, and fernan is volunteering to walk into it. He's asking for support and making plans, yes—but what if that's not enough?"
They were Aberrants not seen in a thousand years. Letting one's guard down wasn't an option.
"If that happens, the transport mission will fail, and the reputations of both the merchant group and the family will be ruined. As the head of House Pallenberg, I can't allow that."
"Your Grace."
"Summon the Red Turtle Company immediately—"
"Your Grace…!"
The butler cut him off. A grave breach of etiquette, yet clearly a familiar one between them.
"The young master will be fine. He recognized the demons before we did and is already dismantling their plans."
"That's exactly what worries me."
The duke's eyes turned cold.
"Stumbling upon a mana stone vein—that could be luck… but tracking down multiple traces of the Aberrants and preparing countermeasures? That's something else entirely."
The duke, who commanded a vast information network, hadn't even sensed a thing. And yet fernan had tracked them down so precisely.
"When this is over, I have a lot of questions to ask him."
A whole lot.
Still, putting that aside—
"What do you think about buying up a whole bunch of mercenaries and sending them after him?"
"…Your Grace, please."