Chapter 73.2

Hearing the report from Ricard, the current head of Sigma, Crown Prince Canbraman nodded with a contemplative look.

“The archbishop went through considerable trouble.”

“Your Highness made significant political concessions to make it happen, after all.”

Upon hearing Ricard’s words, Crown Prince Canbraman furrowed his brow as if he had just bitten into a bitter herb.

“Proposing sainthood… for that Entir Bishop, of all people…”

The Crown Prince mentioned the name of Entir Bishop, the head of the Bishop Company, who had recently been making waves with his bold activities.

“Power-hungry fools… Though, I suppose I’m in no position to talk.”

After returning alive from the North, Entir Bishop seemed to have undergone some sort of epiphany. Suddenly, he began employing the impoverished, providing them with work, food, and shelter.

At the same time, he openly started forming alliances with the Noble Assembly.

Naturally, the Imperial Family saw him as a threat and sought to check his growing influence.

“Honestly, it’s hard to tell who the real degenerate is here.”

But just then, the Imperial Church stepped in.

Using the massive donations from the Bishop Company and Entir’s “charitable” deeds as justification, they pressured the Imperial Family.

“How about we apply some pressure on Entir right now?”

“If we do that, public opinion will turn against us. It’ll also stir up problems with our dealings with the Church.”

No matter how impoverished the people might be, their numbers could not be ignored.

Numbers formed public opinion, and when public opinion unified, it became the will of the people.

The organization that understood how to manipulate the public’s sentiment better than anyone in the Empire was the Imperial Church.

“We should be working together, not against each other…”

It was obvious to anyone that the Church was using this opportunity to keep the Imperial Family in check.

“Entir’s behavior has been far too blatant lately. He used to act cautiously, always aligning with Havana’s stance as a moderate. Did he have a fight with his wife? Or did something happen during his trip to the North?”

“Regardless, he did offer large sums of gold and silver to Your Highness.”

“Since when did merchants care about loyalty? Bribing both sides has always been their way.”

“…My apologies.”

“That bribe was simply his way of asking us to overlook the backlash from the artisans and guilds.”

These days, Entir Bishop was at the top of Canbraman’s list of concerns.

The fact that Entir had gone to the North alone didn’t sit right with him.

“Could it be… that he’s caught on?”

The biggest reason for Canbraman’s suspicions lay in his secret relationship with Entir’s wife, Havana.

“……”

Ricard, fully aware of what the Crown Prince was implying, remained silent.

“Can we get rid of him? I mean, through assassination.”

“We’ve already made several attempts…”

“And they failed, I assume.”

“The mercenaries guarding him are exceptionally skilled.”

“Do we know who they are?”

“They’re a mercenary group led by a man named Phil.”

“Phil? Never heard of him.”

“He’s using a disguise, but his habits and mannerisms were hard to fully conceal. We believe he’s actually Carpe the Mercenary Queen and her Red Wolves.”

“Damn that fool, Doom… What has he even been doing this whole time?”

Click, click, click.

The sound of Canbraman’s tongue clicking echoed through the chamber, sharp and unrelenting.

“We need to deal with the North. Only by dealing with the North can we resolve Entir, the Church, the Noble Assembly, and the Kingdoms’ Union all at once.”

After waiting for the tongue-clicking to stop, Ricard spoke up.

“That’s why we’ve been laying the groundwork for so long, haven’t we? Our strategy of flooding the market with cheap porcelain to ruin the Northern economy may have failed, but…”

“This time, we’ll succeed, Your Highness.”

“That’s what you said last time, too. Look how that turned out. Just think about Astra, who was exiled to the Demonic Territory.”

“Not even Arad Jin will be able to stop this.”

“You do know, don’t you? Arad Jin is said to have considerable skill in healing as well.”

“What we’ve prepared this time is no ordinary plague, Your Highness. It’s a plague imbued with black magic.”

If the previous scheme led by Sigma was a great famine, this time, it was a full-blown plague. And not just any plague—this one was infused with black magic.

“A plague created through black magic can’t be cured using ordinary healing techniques. The only way to break it is through black magic or witchcraft.”

“But the North is home to witches. Witches who are more familiar with black magic and sorcery than anyone.”

“Indeed. That’s why we sought the help of the Church this time, isn’t it? The being inside that coffin will prevent the witches from using their power. After all, it’s the very source of the curse that binds them.”

“Do you really think it will work? To be honest, I have my doubts.”

Despite Ricard’s confidence, Canbraman remained unconvinced.

‘His Highness wants this plan to fail.’

Ricard immediately understood the true nature of Canbraman’s thoughts.

‘No, to be precise, he wants partial success.’

He wanted the North to suffer a significant blow, but he didn’t want the Church’s plans to succeed entirely.

‘He’s trying to wrest control back from the Church.’

The Imperial Family and the Church—they’re the same, after all!

Ricard sighed internally.

“Your Highness, if we fail this time as well, what will you do?”

Ricard cautiously asked his liege, his disappointment barely concealed.

“I’ll be disappointed, of course. If this plan fails, even the curse that binds the witches will lose its power.”

Canbraman responded in an aloof tone.

“If that happens, magic in the North will develop even faster than it is now. Ugh… Just thinking about it is despair-inducing.”

He didn’t sound like a man discussing a worst-case scenario.

“And then, I’ll just come up with another plan.”

He spoke as if he had done so countless times before.

With every plot against the North ending in failure, the North had only grown stronger.

“And if that plan fails, I’ll think of another plan after that.”

The Crown Prince had learned to abandon his former impatience.

“The black sorcerers of the Devil’s Den, the legendary monsters of the Demonic Territory, the extreme northern orcs, the druids of the Manus Mountains… There are still plenty of cards left to play.”

His eyes burned with a mad, obsessive flame.

“If none of that works, I’ll raise the entire army—even if it means shattering the Empire into pieces.”

What flickered in his eyes was not resolve, but obsession and madness.

“We must take control of the North.”

His eyes blazed like a fire that would never be extinguished.

“!!”

Seeing the Crown Prince like this, Ricard suddenly forgot his earlier disappointment.

“By the way, how is Julian doing these days?”

At that moment, Canbraman brought up his son, Julian.

The brilliant, benevolent, and most legitimate heir to the Imperial Bloodline.

But he was far too kind and soft-hearted—unsuited for these turbulent times.

“He’s recently taken an interest in painting.”

Ricard’s voice wavered slightly, sweat beading on his forehead.

“……”

Painting.

Canbraman understood the implications of that single word all too well. His expression hardened like frozen steel, and silence hung heavy in the room.

‘No matter what… no matter what… I must secure the Empire’s future during my reign!’

He didn’t say it aloud, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes.

His gaze shifted briefly toward his frail son, Julian, before it turned back toward the North.