“Did you hear, Sixth Duke?”
“Hear what?”
“The news that Valheit crushed Chancellor Hendrick.”
In one corner of the boisterous banquet hall, the Sixth Duke, Giuseppe Sicilienne, was surrounded by gossip-loving nobles who enjoyed political chatter.
“Who could’ve imagined that Hendrick would be taken down over some fish?”
“Isn’t he the first in Imperial history to be punished for touching royal family property, as a member of the royal family himself? Hahaha.”
“Word has it Count Valheit fabricated the charges. Gives you chills, doesn’t it?”
“I see.”
Giuseppe kept his words brief and listened intently to the loud gossipers.
His thoughtful demeanor—unusual for a duke—wasn’t simply to earn goodwill.
He knew that in banquets, keeping quiet and listening led to the most valuable information.
“Another line added to Count Valheit’s infamy. Not even the Emperor’s uncle could defeat the old snake—something like that.”
“Watch your mouth. You never know where that old snake’s ears might be.”
Giuseppe offered a light warning. Advice born of experience.
But his conversation partner brushed it off.
“Haha, would Count Valheit waste time on a mere drunken noble like me? Anyway, did you hear where the Chancellor is being sent?”
“Of all places, Novosibir, I heard! And get this—according to a friend of mine who works in the palace, it was Valheit himself who picked the exile site.”
“On top of that, they say Valheit personally stuck around as his overseer. If it were me, I’d have wet myself! Haha.”
Politely smiling at the excited nobles, Giuseppe tilted his head slightly.
‘Something feels… off.’
It was no secret to any of the dukes—or even most people—that the Emperor disliked his uncle.
So Hendrick finally being cast out wasn’t all that strange.
What puzzled Giuseppe was Valheit’s behavior.
Valheit, who had advised the Empire and the Imperial family for many years, strongly disliked being in the spotlight.
And yet here was news spreading even to drunken aristocrats about where the exile was being sent.
And the location itself wasn’t typical.
Novosibir had once been known as a summer resort and hunting ground, to the extent that there was a royal villa—but now it was a forgotten, abandoned place.
Though it had the advantage of being remote, and equipped with a suitable estate to house high-ranking detainees, the disadvantages far outweighed that.
It was near the border, making escape into the Northern Federation relatively easy, and since most people had left, the area was now crawling with demons, leaving security questionable at best.
‘No way the lazy Emperor personally selected the exile location… So what is Valheit’s plan?’
A bright voice interrupted Giuseppe’s thoughts.
“Sixth Duke, the guests are hoping to hear a few words from you. Might you spare a moment?”
“Of course.”
Giuseppe smoothly stepped into the center and raised his glass, drawing everyone's attention.
“I won’t be so tactless as to give a long speech when you’re all enjoying yourselves. I simply hope you have a delightful evening.”
Laughter and applause filled the hall.
Giuseppe smiled faintly and swirled his glass.
“Oh, and let’s give a toast to the Borgia Liquor Guild for providing tonight’s fine selection!”
The hall erupted as everyone raised their glasses.
“To Borgia!”
***
Breath escaped into the cold and turned white outside the window.
It had been a while since he’d felt this kind of chill, but it wasn’t all that unpleasant.
“Count Valheit, the transfer procedure is complete. From this point forward, the Novosibir border garrison will handle the monitoring of Chancellor Hendrick.”
The officer giving the report was shivering, his nose bright red.
What felt like a light frost to others was clearly unbearable for citizens of the Empire.
“Good work.”
“Uh, Count… when do you plan to return?”
The officer lowered his voice nervously.
He seemed worried about Hendrick, who sat in a corner like the world had collapsed.
“Why do you ask? Do you dislike it here that much?”
“To be honest, yes. The weather… the demons…”
“I understand. You may leave whenever you wish.”
Now that the guard had handed over the monitoring duty, there was no need for them to remain at the villa.
In fact, their presence would only make it harder for me to move around.
“Um… aren’t you leaving, Count?”
“I have some business to attend to.”
Otherwise, there’d be no reason to come all the way out here, far from headquarters.
“In Novosibir, sir?”
“Yes. Are you curious why?”
“N-Not at all! I’ll be off now, Count!”
With a quick salute, the officer hurried off.
Inside the room, with the cold wind seeping in, only Hendrick and I remained.
“Could you close the window? Unless your plan is to freeze me to death.”
“My apologies. Didn’t expect you to dislike the cold.”
Once the window closed, even the faint noise outside was cut off.
Hendrick rubbed his tired face and let out a long sigh.
“Let’s look on the bright side. Better than dying, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it’s better than dying. But why here of all places?”
“Isn’t Novosibir decent enough? Not an island, not riddled with plague, and not so suffocating in terms of surveillance. Sure, it’s cold and remote, but still.”
“That’s why it’s strange. Isn’t it a weird place for exile?”
Of course there was a reason I stuck him here.
But Hendrick didn’t need to know that.
“Think of it as a gesture of goodwill. In any case, I have business to attend to. I wish you a pleasant retirement.”
His eyes flared with hatred.
Good. That’ll make the surprise later even more touching.
I stepped into the desolate garden of the villa and opened the Status Window.
[Skill]
▶ Eye of the Monarch (Blaiher)
Can be used on people or objects! Determines whether it is helpful or harmful!
Uses vary based on Relationship level
Currently: 1 use per day
▶ Shadow Cast Aside (Hendrick)
Once per day, for 10 minutes, reduces others’ awareness of oneself! Note: the effect is canceled if your actions are too conspicuous!
Blaiher’s skill was obtained during the Chartra trial. Hendrick’s skill was obtained now that his Relationship hit -100.
To test the theory that even hitting -100 grants a skill, I had pushed him even harder.
If a relationship doesn’t need to be friendly, aiming for -100 might be more efficient.
Today, I’d spend time casually testing the new skills.
There was still time before the next stage of the plan.
After walking about twenty minutes, swinging my staff lazily—
A neighborhood of abandoned houses came into view.
No, not quite abandoned.
There were signs of habitation here and there.
‘Though the ones living here aren’t exactly human.’
The demon district of Novosibir was a place that symbolized urban decay.
It had once been a decent residential area, but when the humans left, demons moved in and it became a sort of slum.
To say demons simply “filled the void” was an oversimplification.
It left out which demons filled it.
In The Path of the Demon King, demons were not human, but a blanket term for beings naturally attuned to magic from birth.
From goblins who barely cast beginner-level spells, to elves who could use magic that most humans couldn’t master in a lifetime—they were all lumped together as demons.
Naturally, their treatment varied wildly.
Especially in the Eslick Empire, which valued magic highly, demons who could cast advanced spells were treated as nobles, while the rest lived on the fringes of society.
The demon district of Novosibir belonged to the latter.
Most residents were drifters or day laborers, living in that gray space between legal and illegal.
The experiment was simple.
Walk through the demon district—where resentment toward humans ran deep—while using Shadow Cast Aside.
‘Let’s see what happens.’
I stepped into the demon district.
The scene that unfolded was quite different from the one where demons would usually scurry away when humans entered.
It wasn’t exactly lively, but small groups of demons were gathered, chatting among themselves.
“They say the Northern Federation bastards came snooping again yesterday?”
“Thankfully, no one got taken this time. Outsiders warned us in time.”
“How long are we going to keep hiding? If we give ’em a real taste, maybe they’ll stop coming!”
“But if we do that, the Imperial Army might come….”
I walked past the demons, listening in.
Even at close range, none of them paid attention to me. Good—seems the skill is working.
Thunk.
I looked down. A kid had fallen over.
A demon child, with a striking horn on his head.
Maybe he’d bumped into someone while playing.
When the kid looked up and saw me, his face went pale.
“S-sorry!”
Suddenly, all eyes turned toward me.
The skill must’ve worn off.
Definitely a drawback.
A human noble appearing out of nowhere caused a stir among the demons.
I tried not to pay it much attention and began brushing off my coat to pass by—but then I stopped.
My eyes were drawn to the bracelet the child was wearing.
A creepy bracelet engraved with a severed finger.
“Where did you get that bracelet?”
“Huh? This? I found it while playing in the mountains….”
“The mountains, you say.”
Unless my memory was wrong, a severed finger engraved into a bracelet or necklace was the symbol of a smuggler group known as Godrick’s Finger.
It was my first time seeing the real thing, but I figured some careless smuggler had dropped it.
I used the Eye of the Monarch skill on the bracelet.
A clear blue light swirled around it.
That meant it was good, I suppose.
“Would you be willing to give me that bracelet?”
“This? But I found it…”
A few coins jingled into the horned child’s hand.
His eyes grew wide, and he quickly handed over the bracelet.
“D-don’t say it’s worthless and ask for it back later!”
“No need to worry. It’s a good item—for me, at least.”
“That bracelet? It doesn’t look like it…”
Of course, in terms of sheer value, it’d be trash.
But value is relative.
And if the Eye of the Monarch verified it, I could trust it.
Still receiving hostile glances, I exited the demon district and wandered aimlessly through the streets.
I needed to get used to the city of Novosibir.
This half-collapsed city of Novosibir is where everything begins in The Path of the Demon King.
It’s the early base of the Demon King, a battleground, and the gathering point for both his allies and enemies.
With my interference added to the original events, the scale of things would likely grow even larger than in the original story.
But no matter how large it grew, the general flow wouldn’t change, and I didn’t need to worry about minor variables.
“This one should be enough to prepare for any surprises.”
I pulled out the letter the raven had delivered once again.
Written across the wide sheet of paper was a single line.
[Til Chartra, currently operating within the Northern Federation.]
***
“Feeling like talking now?”
“S-shut…kaaAAAGH!!!”
With a sickening crack, the man’s finger twisted in an unnatural direction.
As the woman with white hair listened to the mix of screams and sobs, she casually said:
“Next will be two from the left hand.”
“I told you I don’t know anything! I don’t—AAAGGHH!!”
Two more fingers bent before the man could finish his sentence.
“Yesterday at the tavern, you said you were the branch manager of the Borgia Liquor Guild.”
“No, that—That was just drunken nonsense! I was bluffing!! I’m just a low-level grunt!”
“Is that so.”
Til stood from her seat and grabbed the fire poker beside her.
The man tied to the chair began thrashing wildly.
“W-what are you gonna do?”
“What’s the point of talking more with a grunt? I’m just wasting my breath.”
“Wait!! Wait, wait—I’ll talk! I’ll tell you everything I know!”
Just before the poker could stab his eye, the man cried out in desperation.
Hearing what she wanted, Til put the poker down.
“Novosibir. Our mining site connects to Novosibir. After goods are weighed and paid for there, they’re shipped to the Empire. That’s all I know! I swear!”
Novosibir.
Every lead she’d followed over the past few days had pointed to that place.
Not just one person—three different sources had named it.
There was no need to dig further.
“Where do you think you’re going? Aren’t you gonna untie me, you bastard?!”
“Oh, right.”
As she was about to walk out, Til threw the poker.
It lodged into the man’s head, snapping it backward.
He made no further sound.
“You should be thankful I killed you in one shot, trash.”
Leaving the rapidly cooling corpse behind, Til exited the hut.
The Borgia Liquor Guild was nothing like she’d imagined.
It was a ghost company, jointly used by all manner of smugglers, that happened to also dabble in liquor sales.
The items Valheit purchased were right on the edge of legality and illegality.
He’d bought all sorts of goods, including liquor for the royal family—nothing seemed too suspicious.
Except for one item.
She planned to ask Valheit directly what he had in mind when he bought it.
Til looked up at the gloomy sky and bit her lip.
“If it snows, it’ll be a pain.”
By now, heavy snow should’ve been falling across the Northern Federation.
But this year, winter was late.
She would’ve preferred a proper snowstorm. The anticipation of not knowing when it would come didn’t suit her temperament.
“Caw?”
A raven tilted its head, staring at her.
Til calmly extended her arm.
The raven landed naturally and offered its mail tube.
She pulled the letter out and shooed the bird away.
“Damn Leitche people really are everywhere.”
After a grumble aimed at the annoying allies, Til unfolded the letter.
The hastily scribbled handwriting greeted her.
[To Til Chartra.
Please come to the Novosibir hunting villa by August 30. Chancellor Hendrick is probably still there, but we recommend avoiding him if possible.
It’s urgent. Don’t keep us waiting.
—Acting Leader of the Eight Council, Valheit.]
In the past, she’d have scoffed and thrown the letter out.
Even if they scolded her later, she could’ve just claimed she never got it.
But things are different now.
Just seeing “Acting Leader of the Eight Council” written on it made that clear.
One thing was certain—Valheit had changed.
And in the absence of the Leader, he was now running the Eight Council.
And with the location being Novosibir, too….
“Fine. Let’s see what your little scheme is, my dear Count.”