NOVPUBThe aide’s desperate expression was pitifully earnest, his voice trembling with injustice as he stammered his report.
But Raul, the “Crippled Demon,” stared at him with an icy gaze, his tone calm and cutting.
“Is this some kind of joke? You bring me this nonsense and expect me to believe that they are the strange ones?”
The aide began to shake uncontrollably, the other advisors in the room equally tense.
Raul’s reputation for cruelty was legendary. Few who had earned his ire ever lived to tell the tale.
Yet, mustering courage from the depths of his soul, the aide spoke again. There was no way he could die for something as absurd as Fenris’s peculiarities.
“I-It’s true, my lord! The rumors... the people... everything about them is bizarre! We checked, rechecked, and sent multiple spies to confirm it all.”
Raul, who might have sent him straight to the dungeons under normal circumstances, restrained his fury and asked coldly, “You’re saying this isn’t due to incomplete intelligence?”
“No, my lord. The locals all speak the same way. These individuals are famous throughout the territory. There’s no hiding or obscuring the facts.”
Raul scrutinized him for a long moment. The aide seemed to be telling the truth.
If these people were so widely known and unusual, it meant Fenris’s entire leadership was likely just as strange.
Taking a deep breath, Raul turned to the next page.
[Ogre Slayer, King of Northern Leather, Mad Dog, Genius of Violence, Arrogant Bastard, Rebel...]
[Knight Kaor]
The titles alone were unusual. No matter how he looked at it, this Kaor didn’t seem like someone who should have been knighted.
Reading further only deepened Raul’s disbelief.
“...So this man handles local law enforcement, oversees military training, supervises prisoners, manages construction projects, and even hunts leather for trade?”
“Yes, my lord,” the aide confirmed.
“So he’s essentially a glorified handyman?”
“That... appears to be the case.”
Raul massaged his temples before flipping to the next page.
[The Shadow Manipulator, Belinda]
The sheer title was enough to make Raul hesitate. He decided not to bother reading the details and asked the aide directly.
“What’s this about?”
“She’s the castle steward and the former governess of the Count. Rumor has it she secretly controls him from behind the scenes. Particularly...”
“Particularly what?”
“She has a zero-tolerance policy for picky eaters.”
“...”
[The Demon Accountant, Lowell]
“And this?”
“They say he has a gift for arithmetic, able to calculate up to seven-digit sums instantaneously.”
“Then he’s managing their finances, I presume?”
“No, my lord. He’s a spy. The overseer Claud refuses to relinquish control of the treasury. Apparently, Claud is exceedingly obsessed with money.”
“...I see.”
[The 6-Circle Maid Mage, Vanessa]
“...A maid?”
“Yes, my lord. She used to perform menial tasks at the Magic Tower.”
“A maid... became a 6-circle mage?”
“Incredibly, yes. And...”
“And?”
“She has a passion for explaining things. Anything and everything, my lord.”
“...Of course.”
[The Great Blacksmith, Galbaric]
Finally, a title that seemed respectable. Raul allowed himself a faint smile.
“It’s said that this dwarf advanced the territory’s technology by several levels alongside Count Fenris.”
“Good. Investigate him further. If his skills are exceptional, we must secure him.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Raul turned to the next entry.
[The Uncontrollable Rage, Ascon]
“...And this?”
“He’s an elf... with anger management issues.”
“...”
Hoping for something sane, Raul reluctantly flipped to the following page.
[The Saint of Juana, Piote]
“...A saint?”
Raul froze. Saints were no trivial matter. Their presence could shift the balance of power in a kingdom.
“What is this? If there’s a saint, the entire kingdom should know. Why hasn’t this been reported to the royal court?”
“A false alarm, my lord,” the aide hurried to explain. “The Church of Juana confirmed it. He’s just a priest who earned the people’s favor, hence the title. However...”
“However?”
“There are multiple eyewitness accounts of him receiving divine revelations. It warrants further investigation.”
“Do these accounts align?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Then he could very well be a saint. Perhaps the Church is hiding the truth, or internal politics prevent his recognition...”
“The Church clarified that he is male, my lord. Males cannot become saints. They believe his feminine appearance might have caused the confusion. He was raised in the Church from childhood, and his gender has been confirmed multiple times.”
Raul groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.
It was all so nonsensical. Nothing about these people adhered to logic or standard expectations. How could he strategize against such an unpredictable group?
Unable to bear the mounting headache, Raul slammed the report shut.
“I’ll take the short timeframe into consideration, but redo this investigation properly,” he ordered coldly.
“Y-Yes, my lord. But... do you not wish to review the remaining profiles?”
“Why bother? They’re all bound to be just as strange. Bring me the revised report later.”
“That... may be true, but...”
The remaining profiles included figures such as Lumina, Friend of Children and Animals, Wendy, Claud’s Caretaker, and Gordon, the Muscular Bed-Wetter.
While many of these could be overlooked, there was one individual Raul couldn’t ignore.
“You should review the details on Alfoy, my lord.”
“Alfoy?”
“Yes. His reputation is... alarming.”
With a grimace, Raul reopened the report.
[The Man Who Defied God, Alfoy]
“This... this is an actual title someone uses?” Raul hissed. “And they let him live?”
Defying God was a title that could lead to immediate excommunication and execution. In an era like this, bearing such a title openly was tantamount to painting a target on one’s back for every religious authority in the kingdom.
The report indicated that Alfoy not only embraced this title but paraded it shamelessly within Fenris.
“This is blasphemy of the highest order. Is this accurate?” Raul demanded.
The aide, trembling, nodded.
“Yes, my lord. It’s all true.”
“Yes, many witnessed him withstand the power of the goddess herself,” the aide confirmed, trembling. “It seems even Count Fenris dares not interfere with him.”
In reality, it wasn’t that Ghislain feared Piote—it was more that he simply didn’t care. But thanks to Piote’s dramatic reputation, those observing from the outside couldn’t help but draw such conclusions.
Raul rubbed his temples, the throbbing pain in his head intensifying. Sorting out fact from fiction in these reports was proving nearly impossible.
The rumors of Count Fenris being a madman had long circulated, and Raul himself had found him to be unnervingly bold during their brief encounter. But he hadn’t anticipated the count’s entire entourage to come with such a colorful and chaotic array of reputations.
“Wasn’t this Alfoy said to be from the Crimson Tower?”
“Yes, my lord. Investigations confirm he was once considered a promising talent and a potential heir to the Tower’s leadership,” the aide replied.
Raul’s eyes narrowed as he processed this. “Then he’s either exceptionally skilled or highly talented. Perhaps both.”
“That appears to be the case. Based on the analysis from our advisory council, it’s likely that this man is Fenris’s hidden weapon.”
“Hidden weapon?”
“Yes, my lord. It’s unusual for someone with such a moniker to remain so obscure. He must have demonstrated his abilities in some significant way, but the Tower has likely kept it quiet to protect his identity.”
Raul nodded thoughtfully. “Indeed. The story about gambling is likely a cover. A magician of his status wouldn’t sully his reputation with such trivialities. The Crimson Tower was once the pride of the North, was it not?”
“That’s correct, my lord. The gambling story must have been fabricated to mask a more significant event. Someone like him wouldn’t tarnish the Tower’s legacy so easily.”
Raul tapped his fingers on the desk. “Very well. Place this Alfoy under special surveillance. Whether the rumors are true or not, there’s something about him we need to uncover.”
With that, Alfoy was officially classified as a "High-Risk Individual," warranting constant monitoring and detailed reporting.
Raul’s sharp gaze turned back to the aide.
“Double-check the status of the Crimson Tower and the connections to the Scarlet Tower. Progress there has stalled too long, likely due to Fenris’s interference. Also...” He leaned back in his chair. “This array of peculiar rumors about Fenris’s personnel—there must be a deliberate effort to obscure the truth. They’re likely attempting to deflect external scrutiny.”
In reality, Ghislain was too busy safeguarding Fenris’s military assets, technological advancements, and economic output to bother hiding eccentricities like Claud or Alfoy.
Unaware of this, Raul and his advisors, seeking logic in Fenris’s bizarre reputation, overanalyzed the situation and arrived at the wrong conclusions.
Raul, however, was not one to accept such reports without further investigation.
“Provide unlimited resources and personnel. Find out everything there is to know. If the information remains consistent, I’ll make my judgment then.”
“Yes, my lord,” the aide responded, bowing.
The Growing Troubles of Amelia
As Raul filed away the Fenris reports, he shifted his attention.
“What about Amelia?”
“We’ve dispatched someone to oversee her situation. They should be arriving shortly.”
“Good. Use Rayfold to keep her occupied. Ensure Fenris’s brat doesn’t leave the North. We’ll handle him after we deal with the Royalist faction.”
“Understood. However...”
Raul’s brow furrowed at the aide’s hesitancy. “Speak.”
“Amelia’s demands are becoming increasingly excessive.”
Raul’s expression darkened. “Excessive? How so?”
“She claims to still be quelling the rebellion of Baron Valois, and her finances are reportedly drained due to ongoing skirmishes with northern lords. She’s requesting...”
The aide listed Amelia’s demands: food, horses, weapons, timber, iron, rune stones, herbs—the list went on endlessly.
Even Raul, unflinching in the face of most situations, was momentarily taken aback by the sheer volume and scope of her requests.
The room filled with murmurs of disapproval from Raul’s other advisors.
“This is the result of an incompetent woman being handed leadership of a territory.”
“We need to bring her under stricter control before she bankrupts the region!”
“Why did Count Desmond even support her in the first place? The fourth prince, Davin, had no base of power and would’ve been a more manageable choice.”
As the room buzzed with frustration, Raul’s lips curled into a cold smile.
“She’s using her position to line her own pockets, no doubt. It seems she has some political cunning, but she doesn’t realize she’s nothing more than a pawn in the grander scheme. When the hunt ends, she’ll be among the first to be cooked.”
Raul saw Amelia as little more than an opportunist with delusions of grandeur, unaware that she too was expendable.
“Provide her with half of what she’s requested. Our overseer will ensure the resources are allocated properly. If she proves difficult to manage, begin plans to replace her.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Strategic Movements
Raul turned to another matter.
“With Harold’s failure, our northern operations will proceed under lockdown. What’s the status of the Royalist faction?”
“We’ve received reports of Marquis Branford’s response to your warning,” one aide began.
Predictably, Marquis Branford had not taken kindly to Raul’s thinly veiled threat to surrender his power and cede the throne.
“He is reportedly enraged and has begun rallying troops from the eastern regions,” the aide continued.
“Marquis Macquarie has mobilized the kingdom’s forces as well, stating they are ready to act at a moment’s notice,” another added.
“Count Aylesbury has also poured substantial funds into his military preparations. It seems they’re thoroughly preparing for conflict.”
Raul nodded.
“Ambitious, aren’t they? One would think they’d grow tired of clinging to the throne after all these years.”
Raul understood, however, that Marquis Branford had no choice. The moment he relinquished power, the royal family’s influence would collapse entirely.
“Still,” Raul mused, “their behavior is different this time. They don’t seem as intimidated as they once were.”
The once-cautious Royalists, who had avoided confrontation at all costs, were now emboldened.
“The reason is clear,” one aide interjected. “Count Fenris’s string of victories has inspired them. They see hope in the young Count’s success.”
Raul’s gaze darkened.
“That brat has tangled everything up.”
The Royalist faction’s newfound confidence stemmed from Fenris. Count Desmond and even the formidable Cabaldi had fallen to him, cementing his reputation as the North’s rising power.
“Branford must have seen potential in him,” Raul said, a rare note of respect in his voice.
Indeed, without Marquis Branford, the royal family would have crumbled a decade ago.
“Prepare for the inevitable,” Raul commanded. “If war becomes unavoidable, we will crush them, but not without preserving our resources for what lies ahead.”
The aides nodded, but Raul kept his true thoughts concealed.
It wasn’t merely about the Royalists or Fenris. It was about the untapped secrets of the Forest of Beasts.
“For what I seek...” Raul thought to himself, “I cannot afford to squander my forces prematurely.”
