Exiled from the Start and Dominating the Wasteland with an Intelligence System Chapter 26

Chapter 26. The Shadow

The core residence of House Black in the royal capital.

Marquess Leon Black sat upright behind his desk, his fingers unconsciously tapping against the smooth tabletop.

A dull, steady series of taps echoed out.

Each strike was like a reflection of his current state of mind.

The door opened without a sound.

Old Butler Sebastian entered with the dust-covered Buck behind him.

“My lord Marquess.” Buck stepped forward and slamd his right fist heavily against the breastplate over his left chest.

His voice carried the weariness of travel, yet it remained steady and forceful.

Leon’s tapping fingers ca to a halt. “Buck. Obsidian Territory... how are things there? Eli... how is he?”

Buck straightened his back and reported clearly.

“My lord! What this subordinate saw in Black Territory is that Young Master Eli... is truly like a completely different man from when he left the royal capital!

He acts decisively, commands with skill, and is held in awe by the people of the territory.

In barely more than a month, the camp has already taken shape. Its defenses and production have both been put into proper order.

Even the unruly Wolf-kin have beco his aid, and their fighting strength is considerable.

Young Master... has truly taken up the responsibilities of a lord.”

Leon stared fixedly into Buck’s eyes, trying to find the slightest trace of insincerity there.

But Buck’s gaze was open and resolute, filled with the blunt honesty unique to a soldier.

“The responsibilities... of a lord...” Leon murmured the words to himself. That last stubborn thread of doubt in his heart finally lted away like thin ice under the sun.

What replaced it was a far more complicated emotion.

He let out a long breath, as though casting off so invisible burden, and slowly leaned back into the wide chair behind him.

With Buck’s positive assessnt of Eli now confird, the possibility of a mithril mine rose to an entirely new height in Leon’s mind.

“Good... very good...” Leon’s voice dropped lower.

“Buck, you have worked hard on this journey. Go and rest well for two days.”

“Thank you, my lord!” Buck bowed.

“After your rest,” Leon continued, “you are to imdiately select capable n and secretly escort the family scholar Mr. Alva, the master craftsman Glenn Parr, and... Tim Lawrence... to Black Territory!”

Buck jerked his head up, shock bursting into his eyes.

Escort those three heavyweight vassals of the family to Black Territory?

That was almost the sa as diverting the core resources of the family there.

And moreover... Young Master’s joking remark that “we’ll be seeing each other again very soon” had co true with astonishing speed?!

Just what in the world did Young Master say to the Marquess?

“My lord! This...” Buck found himself montarily speechless.

Leon waved a hand and cut off his question, speaking half to himself.

“The candidates are decided. But for this journey, who should take the lead?”

“Royce? He lacks a certain decisiveness and boldness. He is not suited for it. Kellers?”

Leon shook his head slightly. “The family territory’s daily operations, and all dealings with the various forces of the Royal Domain, still require him to remain in place.”

“Buck, you are brave and loyal, but handling administrative affairs and political dealings is not your strength.”

The matter of the mithril mine was simply too important. The one leading this mission needed not only ability, but absolute loyalty and a status sufficient to command obedience.

And... he had to be on good terms with Eli as well...

Leon’s brows drew tightly together. His fingers unconsciously began tapping the table again as one candidate after another flashed through his mind.

From the shadows at the side, Sebastian slowly spoke.

“My lord Marquess... for this journey, I am the most suitable person to go in person.”

“You?” A trace of displeasure appeared in Leon’s expression.

“Sebas, I told you long ago that you have served House Black for far too many years. Your every move already represents House Black itself.

If you suddenly leave the royal capital, countless eyes will follow you. It is too risky!”

Faced with the Marquess’s simring anger, a rare smile appeared on Sebastian’s usually impassive face—a smile that carried a deeper aning.

“My lord,” he said with a slight bow, “your concern is entirely justified. But... what if ‘Sebastian’ remains in the royal capital, continuing to serve the family?”

Leon frowned, as though sothing had suddenly occurred to him.

“You an to...”

The instant Leon’s words fell, a sudden change erupted.

The deepest shadow in the corner of the study began to writhe, stretch, and condense like an ink pool disturbed by a falling stone.

The shadow twisted upward, outlining a clear form.

A black tailcoat. Silver-gray hair. Gold-rimd spectacles. Even the faint curve at the corner of the mouth, devoid of emotion, was exactly the sa.

In only a few breaths, a shadow butler indistinguishable from Sebastian’s true body stood silently within the study’s darkness.

It bowed to Marquess Leon Black like a reflection in a mirror.

The entire study fell into dead silence in an instant.

Buck’s mouth dropped open, his eyes looking as though they were about to burst from their sockets.

Suppressing the urge to draw his sword by force of will, he stared at the suddenly appeared “shadow butler,” then abruptly turned his head toward the smiling Sebastian beside him.

The overwhelming shock crashed against everything he thought he knew.

A strangled sound ca from his throat. “M-Master Butler... y-you... you’re not human?”

Marquess Leon’s pupils contracted sharply as well. It was not that he had known nothing at all.

But witnessing such a thing with his own eyes—a sight that defied common sense—still struck with imnse force.

The smile on Sebastian’s face remained as faint as ever. He t Leon’s complicated gaze with perfect calm.

“There is no need for concern, my lord Marquess. This old servant once told you that I have already served nine generations of the heads of House Black.

Such a long span of ti... has long since exceeded the limits of mortals. I have lived... more than long enough.”

He paused slightly.

“With this ‘shadow’ remaining in Black City in my place to handle ordinary affairs, it will be enough to deceive the vast majority of watching eyes.

Captain Buck and I will personally escort the scholar and the master craftsn to Obsidian Territory, and take charge of the... ore... survey and its handling.

This is the most suitable thod.”

Leon looked at Sebastian’s calm, unreadable face.

After a long while, the fist he had clenched slowly loosened, and only a deep solemnity remained on his face.

“Sebas...” Leon’s voice carried a faint rasp, and his eyes were complicated.

“Are you certain you want to do this?

Splitting off a ‘shadow’—for Shadow Demons like your kind... the damage is not small, is it?”

He knew that an ability so far beyond reason could not possibly co without a price.

Sebastian inclined his head slightly. “A minor price is not worth ntioning. For the continuation and future of House Black, and for Young Master Eli... it is worth it.”

......

At the sa ti, in the royal capital Orlandia, in the office of the Pri Minister of the Kingdom.

The air here felt even heavier than it had in the study of House Black.

Federico La Roche, Grand Duke of the Western Frontier and Pri Minister of the Kingdom, stood before a massive floor-to-ceiling window.

The afterglow of the setting sun stretched his upright, spear-like silhouette long across the floor.

Cast upon the cold, polished obsidian tiles, he looked like a silent lion.

At his side stood Marquess Toscana Fernando, a vassal of the La Roche Family and the captain of the royal capital guard. (Marquess Leon had originally held the post, and was now the deputy captain.)

A knight in golden lion armor was making his report:

“My lord Pri Minister, in accordance with your orders, the secret investigation into all noble houses of count rank and above within the Kingdom has been preliminarily completed.

The houses marked on the list have all answered the Frontier Edict and dispatched family knights.

In the na of ‘pioneering’ or ‘training,’ they have gone to... the Western Frontier...”

Federico did not turn around. He rely gave a faint nasal hum from deep in his throat. “Mm.”

The trusted subordinate paused, then continued in an even lower voice.

“As for the matter of Her Majesty the Queen’s murder... we have found a new lead...

The clue points to an extrely deadly poison called Silence’s Kiss.

This poison is colorless and odorless. It is produced deep within the most hidden rainforests of the Midsumr Isles, refined from the glands of a rare Purple-Striped Poison Dart Frog.

It cannot be obtained except by a top-tier alchemist, or by one who has long been in contact with the Isles’ secret poisons.

Its onset is swift. The victim suffers cardiac paralysis.

Externally... there is no sign at all.”

“Silence’s Kiss... the Midsumr Isles...” Federico slowly repeated the words.

There was no expression on his face as he stood with his back to the subordinate.

Only in his eyes did a bone-deep killing intent begin to churn.

Sensing the sudden drop in temperature in the room, the subordinate lowered himself even further and cautiously added:

“My lord, the eastern duke... the Russell family.

They have always maintained the closest trade ties with the city-states of the Midsumr Isles. There have even been marriage alliances... They...”

“Enough.” Federico cut him off before he could continue.

He slowly turned around. On that handso and majestic face, there was not the slightest ripple of emotion—only profound exhaustion.

“Where did you obtain this lead?”

“My lord, it was... from Lord Bernard, the Chief Intelligence Director under the Privy Ministers...”

The golden light of sunset outlined his hard, cold profile.

“Leave.” He uttered the two words flatly.

“Yes!” As if granted a great reprieve, the subordinate imdiately rose and departed.

Federico’s fingers unconsciously rubbed the black ring on his thumb, carved with a roaring golden lion.

Marquess Toscana let out a sigh and finally could not hold back from speaking.

“My lord, we... should withdraw the army. The Western Frontier is our... foundation...”

“The soldiers...”

Federico cut him off.

“The Western Frontier still has Lucius. Tos, give a little more ti...”

Hearing a plea unlike any that had ever co from the Duke’s mouth before, Marquess Toscana let out a deep sigh.

Ever since the Duke’s daughter had died, he had beco harder and harder to read.

Toscana could feel that they were now deeply entangled within the vortex of the royal capital.

An invisible, enormous net seed to be silently tightening from every direction around Orlando.

In that northern war alone, even titled knights had died—three of them. As for the common folk, their dead were too many to count.

Even in Orlando’s history, such a brutal battle had rarely been seen, not even in wars against foreign enemies.

And yet it had happened within the Kingdom itself...

And all of this...

Toscana looked at the desolate back of Duke Federico as he walked away, then ca back to himself and silently followed.

It was as though he once again heard the ancient creed of the La Roche Family.

“La Roche—blood for blood, tooth for tooth.”