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Join the ServerEve watched Pierre’s frantic behavior with a start, a sudden realization dawning on her.
“Hey! What did you do to him?” she whispered, nudging Prince Kleiman with her elbow.
“I used ‘Mental Imprint’ to implant a subtle suggestion in him,” Kleiman whispered back. “From now on, he will harbor an instinctive aversion and terror towards water.”
“‘Mental Imprint’ is an ability possessed by a ‘Holy Bishop’ of the sixth Bishop rank. This ability allows a Bishop to interfere mentally with a target to a certain extent, adding a certain suggestion. Such a suggestion doesn’t forcibly twist the target’s personality or cognition. Instead, it alters their reactive emotions towards specific things.”
The caster’s rank, the target’s rank, and the strength of the target’s will all influence the effect of ‘Mental Imprint’.
For example, merely dispelling Pierre’s guilt over a certain matter and strengthening his resolve could be achieved by a sixth-rank Bishop, provided he was willing.
However, to make him resist revealing a secret, to keep his lips sealed, would require a fifth-rank Bishop.
As a fourth-rank ‘Agent,’ Kleiman could forcefully twist Pierre’s mental reactions even against his will, elevating the effect of this modification to an absurd degree. At this moment, Pierre felt an ingrained hatred and revulsion towards something as harmless as water.
His rational mind did not perceive water as harmful, poisonous, or even strange-smelling. Yet, his heart was inexplicably filled with fear and disgust. This negative emotion, though without a discernible source, was utterly uncontrollable.
“Good heavens, won’t he just die of thirst?” Eve exclaimed.
“Of course, I’m not that cruel,” Kleiman replied with a smile. “This imprint isn’t strong enough to override his survival instinct. He’ll still drink if he’s dying of thirst, but each time, the physical pain he feels probably won’t be much easier than eating… well, you know. He could return to normal if we found a Bishop of my rank to reverse the suggestion.”
“Stop pretending! How many fourth-rank Bishops are there? Who could he possibly invite given his current status?” Eve scoffed, a cold sneer on her face. “You’re utterly inhumane!”
Pierre continued to frantically wipe the wet spots on his hands, the dampness of his sleeves making him intensely uncomfortable.
He stumbled back two steps, his foot knocking into a bucket. It was a dungeon fixture, used to collect dripping candle wax and to extinguish sudden fires.
Suddenly, Eve raised her hand, pointing at the bucket. Employing her ‘Mage-rank’ ability to manipulate elements, she caused the water within to surge out, rushing towards Pierre like a hunting beast.
With a loud splash, Pierre was drenched from head to toe.
After a second’s delay, Pierre let out a terrifying, hoarse shriek and spun around, running madly. The fear and revulsion brought on by the water left him no time to consider anything else. His sole thought was to get out, dry himself, and change his clothes.
“Looking at him, his future seems destined for the asylum,” Eve mused, clicking her tongue.
“You’re not far behind in the ‘inhumane’ department yourself,” Kleiman said, shaking his head. He then instructed Eve, “Go after him and escort him out.”
“Alright, alright, I get it,” Eve replied impatiently, slowly following in the direction Pierre had fled.
****
Only after both had vanished did Kleiman slowly turn his face towards the cell.
“Consider that a small act of revenge on your behalf. How do you feel?”
‘I’m fine. Honestly, I don’t really care about that fellow.’
‘Indeed, a jumping clown who was merely exploited. There’s little satisfaction in dealing with him.’
“Still, thank you, Your Highness,” Jeanne Decker said, her gaze fixed on the window outside.
“Do you need me to erase your memories, Jeanne Decker?”
‘Well, that doesn’t seem necessary anymore.’
Kleiman smiled bitterly behind his mask.
‘After all, you understand.’
The meaning was clear: the mouths of the dead were always the most reliable. Jeanne Decker would no longer have the chance to reveal to the outside world that Kleiman was an Inquisitor.
“Has it been decided?” Jeanne Decker asked.
“It’s almost certain. At the final trial, you’ll be convicted and then executed. The only remaining debate is whether it will be a public or secret execution.”
Kleiman shrugged.
“What’s the difference?” Jeanne Decker asked, showing no reaction.
For her, there was no distinction between a public or secret execution. With a clear conscience, she naturally cared little for the opinions of others.
“I never imagined that a mere moment’s tilt of the scales would trigger such a massive chain reaction,” Kleiman said, shaking his head. “After you were framed, Duke Alençon was immediately impeached. Coincidentally, the royal family was also considering suppressing the Church, and your father was closely aligned with them. Furthermore, many people had long wanted to recall the garrison from the northern border, centralizing military power, because the north had become much more stable than before.”
“It’s not stable,” Jeanne Decker suddenly retorted, her voice serious. “The barbarians are constantly stirring, and the Dragonspine Kingdom frequently erupts in uprisings, in utter chaos. Since childhood, barbarian bandits have ceaselessly plundered my village. My father has always requested an increase in border troops to protect the people. Reducing the border garrison will only leave this country vulnerable!”
“Your father said the same thing, but he was ignored,” Kleiman sighed. “How should I put it? The current situation is simply this: everyone is forming factions. Once an opportunity arises to suppress one side, everyone throws their weight into kicking them while they’re down. In the end, only the victor of these struggles truly has a say. Few people care about anything else anymore. Can you believe that the direction of this country is decided in such a manner? Yet, that is the way of the world.”
‘That is the way of the world’ – Hearing these words, Jeanne Decker suddenly let out a self-deprecating laugh.
“What’s wrong?” Kleiman asked.
“I once made a pact with a friend to change this world. I never imagined I would ultimately become a victim of this very world,” Jeanne Decker said.
“‘Also’? What happened to your friend?” Kleiman inquired.
“They died before me,” Jeanne Decker stated concisely.
“What a coincidence. I once thought the same thing,” Kleiman smiled. “Alas…”
“Even a Prince can’t do it?”
“A Prince?” Kleiman burst into laughter as if hearing a joke. “Let alone me, even the Emperor might not be able to. My mother, the former Empress—she was probably the most naive ruler in the last hundred years. She attempted to implement reforms, only to face joint opposition from local nobles and the Church. To protect the royal family’s interests, she, having been impeached, had no choice but to cede her position to my father, who was far more adept at political maneuvering, only then did everything return to its original state. This country has already reached a point where the tail wags the dog. The royal family and the Church constantly vie for power, and within themselves, different factions oppose each other. Those who cannot adapt to this internal strife have no chance to gain a foothold, not even the Emperor!”
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