Magic Academy's Bastard Instructor - Chapter 214: Grand Duke of the North [1]

Chapter 214: Grand Duke of the North [1]

Vanitas couldn’t begin to fathom what the prophet was planning.

Wasn’t their goal to resurrect Araxys? If that was the case, then the Saintess quite literally had been right in the palm of their hands.

And yet, the prophet let her go without laying a finger on her.

’Why…?’

What was he planning? Did it even make sense? This had to be intentional, undoubtedly part of a greater scheme.

But no matter how much Vanitas raked through his thoughts, even if he pulled every hair from his head, there were no answers.

Not even Selena, seated across from him, could explain it.

“Why come to me, then?” Vanitas asked.

“Because… I didn’t know where to find the Archmage…” Selena murmured. “And… you…”

“….”

“You had broken fate itself. Whether you knew it or not, Marquess Astrea.”

His brows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“You were meant to die,” Selena whispered. “I saw you die that day… the day the white haired woman disappeared.”

Vanitas’s eyes narrowed. The white haired woman… There was no doubt she was referring to Margaret. That day… he had quite literally died, more times than he could count.

’Did she see all my loops?’

If so, then perhaps this was all a misunderstanding.

“Saintess, there’s—”

“No, Marquess.” Selena shook her head, cutting him off. “That day, you were meant to die there, trapped in eternity. But you didn’t. You broke fate… for the first time. I thought it was impossible. But you did the impossible. You’ve defied my clairvoyance. You’ve defied the very constant that keeps this world anchored.”

“….Then, did you see—”

“I won’t comment on it,” Selena said firmly. “Your affairs are none of my concern.”

“….”

Vanitas fell silent.

Selena had most definitely seen it. Every life he had lived with Julia Barielle. The endless repetition. The constant rewinding of fate, just so he could hold her in his arms again.

….Just so he could watch everything fall apart, again.

“Can I… stay here?” Selena asked, shrinking like a cornered cat. She wore fresh clothes handed to her by the maids since her previous garments were soaked in blood.

Vanitas exhaled, rubbing his temples as he considered the request.

Letting Selena stay in his estate was like drawing a target over his own heart. If the cult came looking, they wouldn’t even need to search. They’d have both of their main targets in one place, like two birds with a single stone.

And yet, looking at her, seeing that face that bore an uncanny resemblance to Eunah, he couldn’t bring himself to say no.

Therefore, another approach was needed.

“Before that, I want to ask something,” Vanitas began. “Did you ever foresee… my sister’s death?”

“….”

Selena’s lips parted slightly at the question. For a moment, she didn’t respond. Was her silence an answer? He couldn’t tell.

Then, finally, she spoke.

“…Yes.”

“I see.”

There was no bitterness in his tone, but the darkness in his expressions said otherwise. Panicked, Selena began waving her hands, trying to explain.

“Ah, no… What I mean is… my revelations, they need time to process! It was only when the news reached me that I realized it had been about your sister….”

“I understand, Saintess.”

Selena’s hands fell to her lap, her gaze lowering as a solemn look crossed her face.

“Marquess… I truly am sorry for your loss.”

* * *

After settling everything with Selena, they reached an agreement. He would shelter and protect her, but only under the condition that she remained in disguise.

Sheltering the Saintess in his home would draw far too much attention, and Vanitas already had more eyes on him than he preferred.

The timing couldn’t have been worse.

A week after the Saintess’s disappearance, word had begun to spread like wildfire across the continent that even the highest circles of nobility took notice.

The High Council, composed of the empire’s most powerful dignitaries, convened an emergency meeting.

Despite the amount of problems already at his feet, Vanitas attended, not merely as a Marquess, but now as an Imperial Advisor to the Emperor, Franz himself.

The decision had ruffled many feathers. Several nobles frowned openly at Franz’s decision, eliciting talks of favoritism.

But what could they do?

Vanitas Astrea, alone, was a force even the Emperor dared not cross.

Moreover, the Saintess’s disappearance wasn’t the only crisis at hand.

The disappearance of the Sword Saint, Aston Nietzsche sent even deeper ripples across the continent.

He had vanished alongside the Saintess. While concern initially surrounded the Saintess alone, it wasn’t long before the absence of the Sword Saint sparked a far greater alarm. And naturally, speculations ran wild.

All eyes turned to Pope Telos Alexander IX. But even he, for all his authority and control, claimed to know nothing.

And so, theories began to spread. The most popular was that the Sword Saint had taken the Saintess captive. If proven true, it would be a crime against the Holy Doctrine itself, a direct violation of divine law.

But there was no evidence.

Thus, the search continued.

“The Theocracy is indeed crumbling….” Franz murmured, more to himself than the nobles gathered before him in deep discussion.

“Serves that damn Pope right!” someone snapped from across the room. “They dare cut off the western trade routes with Aetherion, all because they can’t accept the facts?!”

A few others nodded in agreement. The loss of the trade route had hit hard as supplies, coin, and political leverage had all suffered.

Fortunately, not all ties had been lost. Aetherion had managed to maintain a strong diplomatic relationship with the Celestine Hegemony, having aided them recently in recovering from a devastating magical phenomenon. That bond had proven invaluable.

“That aside, Your Majesty,” another noble spoke, standing with a scroll in hand. “We’ve received word that diplomats from both Celestine and Zyphran are en route. House Ludwig and House Arendelle have been tasked with overseeing their passage to ensure their travels remain smooth.”

He paused before continuing.

“We’re to expect their arrival in approximately five days.”

The room stirred with discussions, but all fell silent the moment Marquess Vanitas Astrea stepped forward.

His presence alone was enough to make several nobles swallow deeply. Once, they had dismissed him as an eccentric noble who was easy to isolate through politics.

But now, he was untouchable. Not even the combined forces of their private armies could hope to challenge a Great Power.

“Their visit concerns the Summit Festival, I presume,” Vanitas began. “As a former professor of the Silver University Tower, I’ve received word from old contacts. Some households belonging to the major noble lines of Celestine have already begun settling in advance, anticipating the coming Summit. After all, this year, the Silver University Tower is hosting.”

That drew a few knowing nods from those familiar with the deeper workings of international politics.

The Summit Festival, held once every two years, was a grand convergence of scholars, nobles, and foreign powers alike.

“And what of Zyphran’s purpose?” one of the councilors asked. “They’ve never shown interest in the Summit before.”

“That’s precisely what makes their involvement concerning,” Vanitas replied. “Zyphran doesn’t move without intent. If they’re sending a diplomatic party now, it means they seek something. Whether it’s information, leverage, or an opportunity… we should be prepared for all of it.”

Franz leaned back slightly, fingers steepled underneath his chin as he listened.

“This Summit will not be like the last,” Vanitas continued. “Too much has changed in just a year.”

Many around the chamber nodded in agreement. Franz, seated on the throne-like chair at the head of the council hall, inclined his head before speaking.

“Has Lady Vermillion told you anything, Marquess Astrea?”

Vanitas met the Emperor’s gaze, pausing for a moment. Iridelle Vermillion, one of the Great Powers, and one of only three Admirals of the Bundesritter Navy. A living legend in her own right.

He shook his head.

“No,” he said. “I’ve barely spoken to the Admiral. But given the circumstances, it’s best to assume she’s coming. Four of the Great Powers reside in Aetherion. If there is any movement regarding the Sword Saint’s disappearance, she’ll want to be involved.”

Iridelle Vermillion wasn’t known for attending events lightly. Her appearance at the Summit would signal escalation.

“She’ll likely want to discuss the Sword Saint,” Vanitas continued. “And if that’s the case, she won’t be alone in that interest. The other nations will follow her lead. We can expect more attention placed on that matter than anything else this year.”

Franz nodded slowly, fingers tapping once on the armrest.

“That reminds me,” Franz began, “regarding the Great Powers, Duke Glade has requested your presence, Vanitas.”

“Me?”

Duke, Friedrich Glade, one of the Great Powers, had specifically asked for him?

For a man as powerful as him, it could only mean the matter was serious.

Vanitas nodded. “Tell me the details.”

* * *

The Glade Duchy, located far in the north, had been ruled by the ducal family for generations, entrusted with the governance of Aetherion’s entire northern territory.

The Astrea Marquisate was also situated in the north, though positioned just far enough along the border to remain outside Glade’s jurisdiction.

That slight separation preserved its independence, yet the proximity ensured that both territories were tied by mutual interests and shared dangers.

For that reason, when Vanitas had requested reinforcements from the Empire during the rescue of Margaret, Franz had taken the initiative to summon Glade’s forces to Axenburg, all without Vanitas’s knowledge.

“Has there been any signs of movement?” asked the Grand Duke of the North, Friedrich Glade.

His son, Sigmund Glade, knelt before him. “No, Father. But the mana activity is rapidly expanding. It’s fortunate we managed to discover it in time.”

There was only one reason Friedrich Glade had called for Vanitas.

“Then we’ll wait. I’ve summoned an expert to assess the situation. They’ll be here soon.”

“An expert?” Sigmund repeated. “A scholar, I presume? Can any of them even begin to comprehend that thing?”

What had driven such urgency was a sudden and unnatural magic phenomenon in the north. A disturbance unlike anything the Duchy had encountered before.

The mana around the phenomenon was spreading at an alarming rate. If left unchecked, even the full might of the Glade Duchy might not be enough to contain it, especially given their limited understanding of the deeper complications of magic.

——Friedrich.

Friedrich turned quickly at the sound of a familiar voice calling out to him.

“Father?” Sigmund asked, puzzled by his father’s sudden reaction, unaware of what had prompted it.

“It’s nothing… I think the lack of rest is finally catching up to me.”

What Friedrich had heard was a voice from a distant memory. A memory that carried him back to a time when he was still in his prime, a young boy who could smile despite the harsh tundra of the north, so long as she was by his side.

“….”

That voice belonged to no one else but his late wife.

* * *

“I’ll go with you.”

“Yes.”

“…?”

Margaret was taken aback. She had expected Vanitas to refuse outright, to tell her to remain at the estate and safeguard the Saintess. Instead, his response came quickly, as if he had already considered the idea long before she voiced it.

Before she could dwell on it, the door opened and a woman in a casual frill dress stepped inside.

It was a contrast to the elegant white gown most were accustomed to seeing her wear. If the people of the Theocracy witnessed this, Vanitas would no doubt face criticism for allowing her to appear in attire that revealed even the slightest hint of skin.

Of course, it was by no means excessive. It was just an ordinary dress. But compared to the gowns that concealed her entirely, it was starkly different.

“…Saintess?” Margaret said, tilting her head slightly in disbelief.

Selena entered with bags already packed. Though it had only been a week since she arrived, she looked as if she were more than ready to depart.

“The Marquess has already explained,” Selena said. “I’ll be accompanying both of you to the north. I’m safe as long as Marquess Astrea is there.”

“Saintess, I told you to drop the honorifics. Call me Vanitas.”

“Yes, and I told you I would if you call me Selena.”

“That’s….”

Margaret’s gaze alternated between the two. Since when had they grown close enough to exchange words so casually?

“….”

Her eyes lingered on Vanitas. Charlotte’s death had struck him harder than anyone realized, enough that he was willing to bring the very person he was meant to protect into danger, simply to ensure nothing like that tragedy ever happened again.

As Vanitas and Selena continued their back-and-forth, his gaze eventually landed toward Margaret.

“What are you still standing there for? Do you plan to depart without anything prepared?”

“A-ah…”