Elden Ring: 2,000 Hour Speedrunner Becomes a Dragon Chapter 9 9: The Anatomy of a Conspiracy

"Based on what you've seen over the last few hours, what kind of man do you take him for?" Lucia asked, his voice guiding and patient.

Guilel tilted her head, considering. "Hmm. A bit timid, perhaps. But his heart seems kind. His manners are impeccable—cautious, humble. Truly, he is a breath of fresh air compared to that ill-mannered Regent."

"If you strip away your subjective label of 'timid,'" Lucia said with a thin smile, "you're largely correct. His etiquette, the precision of these camp arrangents, the subtle details he let slip during our talk—all of it paints a picture of a man who is kind, humble, and thoughtful."

He paused, his palm resting lightly on the hilt of his dragon-scale blade. "And yet, how does such a 'thoughtful and humble' man fail to even attempt to persuade his superior to welco us? He threw Hectov under the carriage imdiately, making sure we knew this insulting reception was entirely the Regent's doing. Don't you find that a bit contradictory?"

Lucia's eyes drifted toward the dark horizon. "If I were as arrogant and volatile as many young dragons—if I had reacted as though my honor were a glass vase ready to shatter—he would have leaned into it. He would have fed hints, played the victim, and incited until I was ready to burn the city gates down. But he saw , tested my reaction, and realized I wasn't that kind of fool. He retreated instantly to avoid further scrutiny."

Guilel felt a prick of irritation at the 'young dragons' comnt, but the logic was beginning to settle. "So... you've been turning the tables on him this entire ti? Testing him while he tried to test you?"

"In a way," Lucia said. "We both trust our intuition. He felt that he couldn't use as a weapon, and I felt his shadow the mont I invited him to walk with us. Everything after that was just... confirming the shape of the blade he was hiding."

"But why didn't he keep the mask on at the end?" Guilel asked, puzzled. "When you asked about his family, why tell the truth if he knew you were onto him?"

Lucia gave a helpless, lopsided smile. "Do you think that was a test, too?"

"Was it... not?"

"Human emotions aren't that chanical, Guilel. I tested him a hundred tis, and he wore a mask a hundred tis. But a sincere question, asked without intent, happened to strike the one place he couldn't hide behind a lie."

He looked at the dragon-girl. Though she had seen two centuries, in the eyes of a soul who had lived two lives and possessed a ta-understanding of this world's tragedy, she was still a child.

"I believe his story about Leyndell. It's too specific, too grounded to be a fabrication. We can verify it when we reach the capital," Lucia said, his voice lowering. "If I only need one reason to save a man's life, that history is enough."

"You aren't even human; how do you act like an expert on their feelings?" Guilel grumbled under her breath, though she didn't argue. She simply nodded slowly. "I see."

Ten miles away, Clavell had not returned to the city. After ensuring he wasn't being followed, he took a wide detour through the thickening night, slipping into a jagged forest north of Caelid.

He brought his fingers to his lips and let out a sharp, pre-arranged whistle.

After the third call, the canopy rustled. A shadow dropped from a massive tree, landing silently before Clavell's horse. As the moonlight filtered through the leaves, it illuminated a face that was a map of violence. A jagged scar ran from his left temple to the corner of his mouth, stitched like a centipede. A Caria longsword was slung across his broad back.

"Judging by your long face, the dragon didn't bite?" the man sneered.

"It was to be expected," Clavell replied, his voice cold. "What I didn't expect was the boy. He's seasoned, like an old wolf in a cub's skin. If the lords in Leyndell think they can manipulate him like a child, they are going to find their hands covered in blood."

"Oh?" The scarred man grinned. "High praise for a hatchling. How does he compare to the princes of Leyndell or Caria?"

"aningless questions," Clavell spat. "We're short on ti. Get to the point."

The man shrugged. "Fine. Everything is ready. More than half the demi-human tribes in southern Mt. Gelmir have sent their elites. We have twenty adult Mountain Demons on standby. Kruger told to tell you: as long as you can pull Hectov and his escort fifteen miles clear of the city, we'll have enough ti to butcher the lot of them."

"More than half?" Clavell was visibly shaken by the scale of the mobilization. He steadied himself. "I will say this once more. Hectov's gear and supplies are yours. I will provide the grain and dicine as promised. But if a single one of your tribes touches the farms outside the city, the deal is dead."

"I know, I know," the man said, raising his hands. "You've said it a thousand tis. You know Kruger's word holds. Besides, with your skills, who would be stupid enough to cross you?"

"As long as we understand each other," Clavell said. "I will seize control of Hectov's scouts and feed him the false intelligence he needs. Tomorrow at noon, once the dragons are far enough away, Hectov will find himself passing through Sunset Pass. I'll be in the column to make sure he stays on path. From the mont the vanguard enters the pass, you have thirty-five minutes to finish the job."

The scarred man bared his teeth in a ferocious grin. "We won't let you down."