"Huff... huff... huff... Damn that young upstart Bosk. Doing this to me... to the House of Rebisole... Unforgivable. Absolutely unforgivable! I'll make sure he pays for this insult a hundredfold!"
In the clash between House Silwa and House Rebisole, Shafner Rebisole had been overwhelmed, his forces swallowed by an irresistible momentum that left him defeated without a chance to resist. Yet, somehow, he had managed to evade capture and flee.
He owed his escape to the loyalists who had served the Rebisole line for generations, though none of those retainers remained now. They had each stayed behind to act as decoys, confusing House_Silwa_members to buy their master time to slip away.
From Shafner’s perspective, however, such sacrifices were merely their duty. In his mind, the loss to House Silwa was entirely the fault of his subordinates' pathetic incompetence.
"The fools. It was only natural they let me escape, but to think not one of them is here to attend to me. Once this matter is settled, I shall have to order their mindsets retrained from the ground up... huff, huff."
The night was sweltering, the kind of tropical heat that made sweat pour from his skin just by walking. Heavy clouds obscured the moon, cutting off its light and trapping the humidity, a combination that rapidly drained Shafner’s strength.
Normally, he would have been relaxing in a mansion cooled by a magic item. Why was he instead skulking through this oppressive, lukewarm air like a common criminal? He felt like a straggler from a defeated army.
His vanity would never allow him to admit it, but regardless of his pride, Shafner was currently nothing more than a pathetic refugee.
"Phew... phew... just a little further."
Wiping the sweat from his brow with a trembling hand, he pressed deeper into the night. After fleeing the Rebisole estate, he had hidden in one of his hideouts, but he had soon realized that hiding alone would accomplish nothing. He needed to make Bosk pay for his insolence. Thus, he had crept out into the darkness, making his way here.
Though he would never confess it, the isolation of the hideout had terrified him.
"Just a little more... House Marstchel is almost within reach. Just you watch... just you watch, you Silwa brat."
Luck was on Shafner’s side for the moment. Most of Exil’s residents had retreated to their homes after the day’s unrest, and the clouds hiding the moon provided the perfect cover. Only the occasional sound of revelry from a distant tavern broke the silence. He moved through the unlit streets of night-cloaked Exil, an old man driven by a bloated ego, oblivious to how much he resembled a cornered animal being stalked by a predator.
"SORRY, BUT PLEASE STOP RIGHT THERE."
Shafner flinched.
The voice that rang out from behind him sounded utterly inhuman. He froze for a heartbeat before spinning around with a speed born of pure terror, a vigor he hadn't shown in years of basic, neglected training.
Shafner possessed no Night Vision, so he saw nothing but the void of the darkness. He peered into the gloom, shouting to mask the fear trembling in his voice.
"W-Who goes there? Do you act with the knowledge that I am Shafner Rebisole, the head of House Rebisole!?"
"PLEASE BE QUIET. IF YOU MAKE A SCENE, THE PEOPLE WATCHING HOUSE MARSTCHEL WILL NOTICE."
The voice was staccato and mechanical, emanating from the shadows. Finally, Shafner realized it wasn't human. The fear he had been suppressing exploded, and just as he prepared to scream and run...
"IT CANNOT BE HELPED. CARRYING OUT MASTER'S ORDERS."
"!?"
The voice, which had seemed to come from the deep dark, was suddenly directly in his ear. In the next instant, Shafner’s world went black, and he collapsed to the ground.
Beside the prone old man stood a small doll, only about 30cm tall. It raised a tiny hand toward the shadows, and a mud puppet nearly two meters tall emerged to hoist Shafner’s limp body over its shoulder.
"REALLY. AND WITH PEOPLE KEEPING WATCH ON THE MASTER'S MANSION, TOO."
The 30cm doll shrugged its shoulders with eerie, human-like precision, turning its head to look at the giant puppet beside it.
"FOR NOW, WE HAVE PROCEEDED ACCORDING TO MASTER'S ORDERS. LET US RETURN."
"..."
The larger mud puppet nodded silently. The pair moved off toward the mansion where their beloved master waited, slipping past the House_Silwa_members standing guard without leaving a trace.
"Nn... where... I was... Ouch! What is this!?"
Shafner woke to a sharp pain in his back, realizing he was lying on hard ground rather than a soft bed or sofa. He scrambled to sit up.
A metallic clink rang out, accompanied by a cold weight around his ankle. He looked down and saw a sight that was shocking, yet in some dark corner of his mind, utterly expected.
A shackle was fastened to his leg, connected to a heavy chain. The other end was anchored to a metal ring embedded in the corner of a cell—a jail with a cold cobblestone floor.
"W-What is the meaning of this? Why am I... No, I was near House Marstchel..."
Memories of the night began to resurface. He let out a sharp breath.
"That's right. I heard that strange voice..."
"Heh. A 'strange voice,' was it? If you'd like, you can tell me all about it."
"That pronunciation... Who's there!?"
Shafner turned his gaze toward the source of the voice. Outside the bars of the jail, a lone figure stood in the shadows. Even knowing someone was there, they seemed to blend into the room so naturally that they felt like an illusion.
In the dim light, the person's face was invisible. He had looked around the moment he woke, and no one had been there. Yet, without a single footstep, this person had appeared.
"This robe truly is useful," the woman said. "Though the fact that the effect ends the moment I move even an inch is a bit of a flaw."
She pulled back her hood, revealing herself in the ambient light. She was a middle-aged woman in her 40s, draped in an excessive amount of jewelry—hairpins, necklaces, earrings, rings, and bracelets, all encrusted with various gems.
Shafner knew her instantly. They had co-ruled Exil for decades. She was the one he had come to for help—or rather, the one he intended to command to help him.
"Pri!?"
"Yes. It has been quite a while, Shafner. How are you feeling?"
"As if I could be well! Unchain me and get me out of here this instant! Do you have any idea who you're treating this way!?"
Shafner’s face flushed red as he roared, but Pri Masterche ignored his tantrum, choosing instead to admire a ring on her finger. She didn't even look at him; her eyes remained fixed on the jewel as if he weren't even worth her time.
"Oh, I understand perfectly. You're the idiot who conducted magic stone experiments to create anomaly species, then tried to pick a fight with House Silwa when they came to investigate, aren't you?"
"Wh-! You... how dare you speak so insolently to the head of House Rebisole!"
Pri let out a melodic giggle—a sound that was half-amusement, half-pure mockery.
Given his bloated ego, Shafner could not stomach such contempt. He let out another scream.
"What is so funny!? House Marstchel's operatives were the ones who attacked House Silwa's warehouse! I was merely caught in the middle!"
"Oh dear, you're still only working with that much information? Well, I suppose that’s why you were chosen. Now, what should I tell you first? Let’s start with this."
Pri's malicious smile deepened as she giggled again.
"That title of head of House Rebisole you’ve guarded so jealously? It isn't yours anymore."
"...What?"
"Bosk has installed Kardia as the new head of House Rebisole."
"Absurd!" he shouted reflexively. Kardia was his own flesh and blood, but Shafner knew him as a mediocre, useless man.
"You think such a farce... will be allowed!?"
"Certainly. After all, it wasn't just House Silwa. As the head of House Marstchel, I have already given my consent. There are no issues with the legal procedures."
"Wh-! Don't you toy with me! You’re the ones who plotted with House Silwa... !?"
He shouted until his face was purple, but he choked on his words as a realization finally dawned on him.
"You... could it be? Were you working with House Silwa from the very beginning? You orchestrated all of this just to seize control of House Rebisole..."
"...Eh?"
Pri stared at him, her expression going blank as if he had said something completely unexpected. Then, as if she could no longer contain herself, she clutched her stomach and burst into laughter.
"Ufufu... Ahahaha! I see, I see! I suppose from your perspective, it’s only natural you’d think that. But you’re way off. The real answer is... Bring him in."
"YES, MASTER."
The mechanical voice of the mud puppet rang out, followed by the sound of the room's main door opening.
"Pardon me. You called for me?"
"Yes. Our friend here is under a rather amusing delusion. I thought it was time to teach him a little reality. Tell me, Shafner. You recognize him, don't you?"
"...Why? Why are you here, Oricule!?"
The man standing there was Oricule. Until only a few days ago, he had been the Holy Light Religion Messenger who had supposedly been working as Shafner’s ally. He was an underground presence of the Holy Light Religion, a man Shafner believed he had been using for his own ends.
Oricule didn't flinch under Shafner’s furious gaze. Instead, he let out an annoyed sigh and turned to Pri.
"There was no need to go to such lengths to reveal me."
"Oh, but I had to properly sever your relationship. Besides, it’s far better if he harbors a deep-seated hatred in his heart. It makes for much better experimental material, don’t you think?"
As the two conversed before him, Shafner’s face grew darker with rage.
"Oricule... You... were you deceiving me this entire time!?"
"Deceiving? Hardly. When a tool is no longer useful, it must be properly disposed of, wouldn't you agree?"
"A tool... you dare call me a tool!? Me, who rules over Exil!?"
If hatred had the power to kill, Shafner would have slaughtered the two of them a dozen times over as he glared at them with lethal venom. But he was trapped in a cell, bound by chains. He was powerless.
All he could do was hoard the hatred for the two in front of him in his heart. Even as he realized from their conversation that this was exactly what they wanted, Shafner Rebisole could not stop the white-hot rage from surging within him.