SN Chapter 21

The stench involuntarily wrinkled one's face. Itserion walked through the dark, gloomy space. No light penetrated this place, but the torch held by the soldier walking ahead opened visibility somewhat. A moth-like flying insect passed Itserion and flew behind him. He startled and waved his hands frantically to chase the bug away. He did it for Rikardis standing behind him.

"Was it necessary for you to come to such a place personally?"

Rikardis avoided his fluttering hands around his face and answered.

"You'd tell a soldier, that soldier would tell someone lower, that someone would tell another someone. By the time an answer reached me, half a year would've passed. I'd suffocate waiting."

Itserion grumbled. Indeed, had Rikardis not visited the prison himself, he would have ordered someone below to investigate and report. His master had such an impatient temperament.

They descended hundreds of spiral stairs reaching the lowest level. Beast-like shadows trapped behind iron bars howled and thrust out their hands wildly.

"Pretty face. Come here, come see, pretty thing."

"Kill me. Kill me. Please!"

"I'm hungry, the rats ate all the food! Damn bastards! I'll kill them!"

A soldier splashed cold water on the prisoners. The frigid water gouged their wounds. Screams and groans rang out, but things quieted more than before. Itserion gritted his teeth. Still an unpleasant sight. He looked back at his radiant master, utterly unsuited to this filthy prison. Rikardis's brow furrowed slightly. He looked displeased. But given he always wore that expression, it seemed more accurate to say he looked the same as usual. Rikardis moved forward with an indifferent attitude, seemingly paying no mind to this spectacle. Itserion collected himself and hurriedly followed.

Even at the lowest level, they had to go deep inside to reach solitary confinement. The soldier rapped the bars with his spear shaft. Clang, clang, clang. The sound echoed loudly through the prison. The bars smelled rusty. Perhaps it was the smell of blood. A black form wriggled and moved from within. Hair that might once have been bright blonde looked brown, matted with dirt and blood. She crawled forward slowly. Shackles on both hands scraped the floor making clank, clank sounds. The woman, roughly wrapped in dirty rags, grabbed the bars and barely stood up. Between hair covering half her face, her white eyes gleamed.

"Has Idelabheim's dog come? I can smell you."

"I came to see Kreyan Tithanion's slave. Your complexion looks good—you've been well, it seems?"

"Your mouth's the only thing alive and you're unlucky to boot—must be the second laurel."

She suddenly thrust her hand through the bars. Despite being unable to see, she aimed precisely at Rikardis. Clank! Her shackles caught on the bars making an unpleasant sound. Her filthy fingertips reached just an inch away. Even seeing the dirty hand arrive so close, Rikardis didn't blink. The distance fell just short. Soldiers watching tried to strike her away with spear ends, but Rikardis raised his hand to stop them.

"Same bad habits."

"I tried to comfort you. Did your brother bully you again?"

Itserion briefly considered whether to call more soldiers. As if reading his mind, Rikardis shook his head slightly. Itserion clicked his tongue quietly.

"Still making people feel disgusted."

Rikardis drew a glass bottle from his coat. Then he dropped the bottle onto her hand still extended toward him. She stiffened briefly at the cold, hard sensation touching her hand, but soon brought it inside the bars. She felt around with her fingers and shook it, trying to identify the bottle. Feeling something slosh through the thin glass, she realized liquid was inside. As she just stared at the bottle in her hand with unseeing eyes, Rikardis whispered in a sweet voice.

"A gift I brought for you, Ketrin."

She hesitated briefly before opening the bottle. The darkness that had settled thickly. The thick smell of blood and filth clinging to the cold air. Even the sharp sounds of metal. A tea fragrance utterly unsuited to the bleak prison swirled around her nose. She laughed with a pfft sound. Her comrades had failed another assassination attempt on the Second Prince, it seemed. Still using classical methods.

"Rienta's Aligarté?"

Aligarté was the name of black tea from the Rienta region. Despite the sharp gazes fixed on her, she seemed relaxed enough to even identify the tea variety.

"Quite cultured, my lady."

Rikardis's voice, arms crossed and leaning against the bars, sounded quite leisurely. She smirked and poured a little tea into her palm. She brought it close to her nose to smell more deeply and touched it with her fingertips. She trembled for a moment. She felt a familiar energy from the tea pooled shallowly in her palm. It presented a vivid scene to her sightless eyes. Something like a dark red haze rose from her palm. Though the amount was very slight, she knew well what this meant. Her homeland Balta's long-cherished wish. While she'd been captured in Illavénia, they'd succeeded in creating the combination of poison and magic—the "Fragment." She clenched her fist unconsciously.

Her reaction gave Rikardis certainty. Her response to the colorless, tasteless, odorless poison meant it contained energy she could sense. As a demon person possessing magic, she would detect even a small amount of magical power. She lifted her eyes from her hand and looked toward Rikardis again. Her face filled with smiles. She wore rusty shackles on her wrists, wore shabbier clothes than anyone, and was in a more weakened state than anyone. Yet she seemed more triumphant than anyone else in this space, happier than anyone. Her rough voice rang out joyfully.

"What do you want to know?"

"What do you know?"

She sat down comfortably. The somewhat insolent impression made Itserion quietly curse under his breath.

"I... Rikardis. I know so very much. I also know what you want to know. And that Idelabheim's light has begun to fade, and that with 'this' appearing, you have no chance of winning anymore. I know it all."

"Quite full of yourself."

"...Impudent, really."

During her three years imprisoned, she'd never once given information to Illavénia. Even information extracted through relentless torture came after incidents occurred, rendering it useless. She opened her mouth now not because Rikardis was less unlucky than First Prince Elpydion. Nor because the gift he'd brought satisfied a long-cherished wish.

Everything was because she was certain things would now proceed according to Kreyan Tithanion's will, and merely revealing one poison's identity wouldn't change much. She felt the black curtain descending over the Illavénian Empire. She trembled finely with the ecstasy swirling around her.

"Seeing what you brought me, you already know. Yes, that's right. This is the great Kreyan Tithanion's creation. A perfect realm of chaos that Idelabheim or whatever can't possibly interfere with."

"You have a talent for speaking like shit?"

"...This poison is mixed with magic."

"Easy to understand. Good. Perfect."

He'd already anticipated the poison's identity, so he wasn't particularly shocked. Instead of Rikardis and Itserion nodding calmly, the many people following behind them stirred. The prison buzzed with their agitation. Poison combined with magic. An utterly unbelievable thing, yet the shabby woman before them had been an executive of the Onyx Moon. She couldn't be trusted, but her words couldn't be easily dismissed either.

Poison that divine power couldn't heal. The Onyx Moon worshipping magic and possessing many demon people. And words coming from the witch Ketrin's mouth. Many circumstances and situations supported Rikardis's opinion. Men standing behind Rikardis and Itserion scribbled something on small papers. Scratch, scratch. Those testimonies would reach the Emperor, Elpydion, the nobles.

Rikardis waved his hand, indicating the business was finished. Many secretaries and advisors flowed out of the prison like an ebbing tide. They seemed eager to escape this space filled with foul smells and insects. Rikardis clicked his tongue watching their backs, then finally sent a glance toward her.

"The rest is a gift, Ketrin. Bad for your body, but good for your mental health."

He was saying he'd give her the opportunity to end her own life—living in this dark, damp space without light, unable to eat or move properly while being tortured. Ketrin laughed softly. Unlike Elpydion who practiced all manner of vicious tortures, this prince had a certain charm. Reading that meaning in her laughter, Rikardis's face crumpled.

"I won't use this gift, pretty boy."

This woman, really. Rikardis's voice sharpened.

"You won't die comfortably."

"Everyone will return to Lord Kreyan Tithanion's embrace. Though I've gone blind, I'll see that scene clearly. I have a duty to watch that moment while alive. Try struggling hard."

As people exited, prisoners began rattling the bars again. The prison instantly grew chaotic with screams and shouts.