Chapter 74 : Leave So Traces
The mana fluctuations of the Ice Crystal Flower were pure and active, leaning toward the orderly side of the ice elent. When heated, it usually released cold air steadily and expanded only slightly.
Frostvine, however, possessed mana imbued with a strong chaotic attribute. Its ice elent was extrely unstable. When exposed to heat, it would be violently stimulated, releasing energy at an exponential rate and easily triggering a chain reaction of mana rampage.
The book cited a case from fifty years ago.
A border outpost had mistakenly used Ice Crystal Flowers mixed with a small amount of Frostvine powder as auxiliary material for a heating magic circle. The result was that the magic circle went out of control. The entire outpost was instantly frozen, and all personnel inside died from mana corrosion and extre cold.
Subsequent testing revealed that Frostvine accounted for only three percent of the mixture.
Three percent.
Ryan’s fingers tightened unconsciously, and faint wrinkles appeared along the edge of the page.
He continued reading.
Following the case study was a detailed section on identification thods.
Aside from mana spectrum analysis—sothing that required specialized instrunts—the book also listed several “simple identification thods that may be attempted in the field or under limited conditions.”
First, one could make use of the difference in how the two materials reacted to orderly mana.
When exposed to the lowest level of Holy Light magic or purification-type spells, Ice Crystal Flower powder would glow faintly, and its mana fluctuations would gradually stabilize.
Frostvine powder, however, would emit faint wisps of gray-black repulsive smoke.
Second, one could observe its thermal stability when mixed with a common neutral mana carrier such as finely refined mica powder.
At room temperature, an Ice Crystal Flower mixture remained essentially stable.
A Frostvine mixture, however, would slowly release cold energy, causing the outer wall of the container to develop unusually uniform frost patterns.
Third…
Ryan’s gaze stopped on the third thod.
“…The mana imprint of Frostvine possesses a unique mory property. Even after grinding, mixing, or even undergoing a certain degree of mana shock, the imprint of its original place of growth—the eternally silent cold environnt unique to the Everfrost Wasteland—may still be traced and reconstructed through extrely precise mana resonance detection. This thod requires high-level nature magic or certain ancient relics. The practical difficulty is extrely high and is provided only as a theoretical reference.”
The air in the room seed to freeze.
Only the occasional crackling of the oil lamp’s wick and the soft rustle of Cosette turning the pages of her picture book could be heard.
Ryan leaned back against the hard wooden chair. His body, which had been slightly leaning forward, slowly relaxed.
His fingers loosened unconsciously. The heavy book slipped from his grasp and fell beside the open notebook with a dull thud.
So that was it.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of Ryan’s mouth.
So that was it.
Fragnts that had once been vague—pieces of the ga’s background setting—gradually surfaced from the depths of his mory. Under the light of the explosion’s clues, they assembled themselves into a chilling picture.
He rembered now.
The Garcia family of Andre Garcia and the Wood family of Hanson Wood both held fiefs and spheres of influence firmly attached to the northern territories ruled by Marquis Wilier, a man notorious for both his iron hand and his greed.
In the middle portion of the ga’s original storyline, if the player chose to pursue Princess Cecilia’s political route, they would inevitably beco entangled in the brutal factional struggle over the imperial succession.
And Marquis Wilier was one of the most powerful pillars supporting the Second Prince’s faction.
He held military authority in the northern territories and wielded imnse influence.
What supported his power and wealth, aside from the open taxes of his domain, was a hidden network that walked along the edge of a blade—smuggling trade with the northern Orc Empire.
The Empire and the northern Orcs had been at war for years. The border was constantly afla, and raids by orc forces moving south occurred from ti to ti.
Although many peaceful demi-humans and orc tribes had long since integrated into the Empire and worked in various professions, engaging in any trade with the enemy—especially the orc tribes or kingdoms that were still at war and continued to raid the border—without authorization from the Empire’s central authority was an unforgivable act of treason.
Weapons.
Grain.
Intelligence.
Or even… certain special magical materials strictly controlled by the Empire.
No wonder.
No wonder that after he accepted the wager that looked like a dead end, the opponent’s probability of success had plumted from forty percent to ten percent.
Once the logic beca clear, the subsequent course of action unfolded naturally in his mind.
The next morning, before the mist had even cleared, the atmosphere in the Green Vine Room on the second floor of the Oak Shield Inn outside the academy’s east gate was even heavier than the day before.
Old butler Horace sat with his back straight, but his eyes were bloodshot. Fresh stubble had appeared along his chin, and it was obvious he had not slept all night. Fatigue and anxiety clung to his features.
Several worn account books lay open on the table before him, along with a bundle of parchnt letters tied together with thin string.
“Hank is completely gone,” Horace said, his voice tense and dry. “I used every informant I could in the northern territories. I even had people check recent population movents in several border black markets. He has vanished like a drop of water evaporating. The last reliable trace of him stops at Old Horse Inn that night. The innkeeper said he left alone early the next morning, but no one knows in which direction.”
Ryan stood by the window with his back to Horace, looking out at the slowly awakening street below.
Breakfast vendors pushed their carts along the road with squeaking wheels. Several younger academy students in uniform hurried toward the east gate, rubbing their sleepy eyes.
Everything seed ordinary, as if the turmoil of the previous day had been nothing more than an illusion.
“I understand,” Ryan said calmly. There was no trace of disappointnt in his voice.
Horace seed slightly at a loss in the face of such calmness. Then he gestured toward the account books and letters on the table.
“These were found in your father’s… in the viscount’s study. They are records of goods transactions over the past six months related to the territories of the Garcia and Wood families, along with several ordinary business letters. I copied the key sections overnight.”
Ryan turned from the window and walked to the table, his fingers brushing over the rough paper of the account books.
The numbers were neat, the entries clear, all in proper imperial tax format.
He untied the bundle of parchnt letters and skimd through them quickly.
They were nothing more than routine matters—urging paynt of outstanding balances, discussing delivery dates for the next shipnt, exchanging seasonal greetings.
The wording was cautious and revealed no flaws.
“Of course they are clean,” Ryan said, setting the letters down. “That is normal. What I want is not this.”
A trace of confusion flashed across Horace’s gray-brown eyes.
“Then what do you want…?”
“I want traces, old Horace,” Ryan interrupted, his gaze sharp as an icicle.
“The sudden expansion of the mine guards in the Garcia family’s territory last month. The new expenses for rcenaries who do not belong to the Empire’s regular military structure.”
“The abnormal stockpiling by the Wood family this year of large quantities of cold-resistant magical beast pelts and oil—far exceeding what they would normally need for winter protection or trade.”
“And the unusually frequent ceremonial visits and material exchanges between those two families and certain important figures in the northern territories.”
“These fragnts are scattered, trivial, and easy to overlook when viewed separately. But when assembled together, they form… a rather interesting outline.”
Horace’s pupils contracted.
For the first ti, the way he looked at Ryan carried genuine astonishnt.
When had this young master—whom he had watched grow up since childhood—developed such keen insight and such sensitivity to the hidden currents of the northern territories?
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