[Flashback: After the Conclusion of the Emperor's Audience]
The ride back to his estate was quiet.
Too quiet.
Lord Carveth sat inside the curtained imperial carriage, gloved fingers resting against the polished head of his cane as the streets of the capital passed outside in muted lanternlight. His expression remained composed. Practiced. The same calm mask he had worn in the Imperial Hall.
But beneath it—his thoughts churned.
The carriage rolled through the noble district and eventually passed through the wrought-iron gates of House Carveth's estate. Servants bowed as the carriage stopped. A footman opened the door.
"My lord."
Carveth stepped out without acknowledging him.
The estate stood tall against the night sky—stone terraces, high windows glowing faintly with mana-lamps, banners bearing the crest of House Carveth swaying gently in the evening wind. A respectable house. Not among the great founding lineages of Atlantis. But respectable enough. Built through patience. Calculation. And the understanding that stability was the only true currency in politics.
Carveth entered the manor.
The marble halls were silent. Servants bowed as he passed, but he ignored them, moving with steady steps toward the eastern wing. His study. A place where the masks of court could finally be removed.
The doors closed behind him with a quiet click.
The room was dimly lit by a single mana-lamp above the writing desk. Tall shelves of ledgers and political records lined the walls. Maps of trade routes. Military supply lines. Diplomatic treaties. All the quiet machinery that kept an empire functioning.
Carveth removed his gloves slowly.
Then sat down behind the desk.
For several seconds—he said nothing.
The silence stretched.
Then another voice spoke from the shadows near the door.
"Your mood appears troubled, my lord."
The man who stepped forward was elderly but upright, dressed in the immaculate black uniform of a household steward. His hair was blond. His eyes sharp. The butler of House Carveth had served three generations.
"Troubled?" Carveth repeated.
He leaned back in the chair.
"…No."
A pause.
"I am disappointed."
The butler inclined his head slightly.
"…Why, my lord?"
Carveth's fingers tightened around the head of his cane. His lips curled faintly.
"…Because the Emperor is such an indecisive fool."
The butler's expression stiffened.
"My lord," he said quietly, "please refrain from using such words. The walls might have ears."
Carveth's head snapped toward him.
"You fool!" he barked. "Do I look like I care?"
The outburst cracked through the quiet study like a whip.
The butler immediately lowered his head.
"N-no, my lo-rd."
For a moment, only the faint hum of the mana-lamp filled the room.
Carveth exhaled slowly through his nose, but the anger in his chest did not dissipate. It simmered. Boiled. Because the scene from the Imperial Hall replayed in his mind again and again. The Emperor's calm dismissal. The indulgence granted to the Divine Church. The quiet acceptance of something that, in Carveth's mind, should never have been allowed to exist.
"…An unblessed otherworlder," he muttered, almost to himself.
He rose from the chair and began pacing slowly across the study.
"The ritual meant to summon a Hero… produced a deviant."
His cane tapped against the marble floor with each step.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
"And yet His Majesty chooses restraint."
His lip curled again.
"Restraint."
The butler remained silent, though his eyes followed his lord carefully.
Carveth stopped before the tall window overlooking the estate gardens. Lanternlight flickered across the trimmed hedges and silent fountains outside. His reflection stared back at him in the glass.
"…Do you understand what this means?" he said quietly.
"My lord?"
"If the existence of that boy becomes known…" His voice hardened. "…Atlantis will be ridiculed."
The butler frowned faintly.
Carveth continued, his tone gaining heat with each word.
"Imagine the histories written a century from now."
He turned sharply.
"The Empire of Atlantis — the first nation in recorded history to summon an unblessed failure after performing an otherworldly summoning."
His cane struck the floor.
Hard.
"They will laugh at us."
The butler spoke cautiously. "My lord… perhaps the Emperor believes the Hero's brilliance will overshadow the anomaly."
Carveth's expression turned cold.
"That boy Kouki will indeed become a symbol. A banner. A weapon of prestige."
He walked back toward the desk slowly.
"But not in the eyes of our enemies!"
"Prestige is fragile."
Carveth snapped.
"The other major powers will feast on this weakness."
He began pacing again.
"The Noblesse Sovereignty. The United Crown. The Barbaric Hegemony. And the Merchant States."
"All of them will whisper the same thing."
He stopped again.
"That Atlantis has grown careless."
The butler remained silent.
Carveth's voice lowered.
"And the worst part…"
His eyes darkened.
"…is that the Emperor believes he can simply ignore the problem."
He laughed bitterly.
"A deviant otherworlder handed to the Divine Church for 'observation.'"
He spat the word.
"Observation."
The butler finally spoke. "My lord… perhaps His Majesty believes the matter will fade with time."
Carveth stared at him.
"…You truly think so?"
The butler hesitated.
Carveth answered for him.
"No."
He turned away.
"Secrets do not remain buried in an empire this large."
His gaze moved across the maps lining the walls.
"Too many people already know. The summoning circle priests. The imperial magi. The court retainers. The Church. The Saintess."
He scoffed.
"All it takes is one loose tongue."
One.
And the story would spread like wildfire.
The Empire that summoned a flawless Hero…
…also summoned a useless deviant.
His jaw tightened.
"History would remember the failure just as much as the success."
The butler finally spoke again.
"…What do you intend to do, my lord?"
Carveth did not answer immediately.
Instead, he slowly returned to the desk.
Then he sat.
His voice when he spoke was quiet. Measured. Cold.
"…Remove the problem."
The butler's eyes widened slightly.
"My lord…"
Carveth looked up.
"I want that boy eliminated."
Silence fell.
Heavy.
The butler chose his words carefully. "…Forgive my boldness, my lord. If I understand correctly… the otherworlder is now under the protection of the Divine Sanctum."
Carveth's expression darkened.
"Yes."
"That makes the matter… difficult."
The butler folded his hands.
"No reputable assassin organization would accept a standard bounty involving the Sanctum."
The Divine Sanctum was not merely a religious institution. It was one of the most powerful magical authorities in the world. Even the deadliest killers preferred not to provoke it.
Carveth's fingers tightened on the desk.
"…Then we will not offer a standard bounty."
The butler frowned.
"My lord?"
Carveth leaned forward.
His eyes glinted with ruthless resolve.
"Contact The Obsidian Veil."
The butler inhaled sharply.
The name alone carried dread.
The Obsidian Veil. A shadow organization whispered about in every court and criminal underworld across the continent. Assassins who accepted contracts no one else dared touch. Kings. Archmages. Even saints had fallen to their blades.
But their price—was legendary.
"My lord…" the butler said slowly, "even the Obsidian Veil may hesitate if the target resides under divine jurisdiction."
Carveth's patience finally snapped.
He stood abruptly.
The chair behind him crashed against the floor.
"I don't care!"
He grabbed another chair and hurled it across the room.
The wood shattered against the stone wall.
The butler flinched but did not move.
Carveth's voice thundered through the study.
"Use every connection I have!"
His chest rose and fell rapidly.
"Every contact. Every broker. Every shadow agent."
He pointed at the butler with a shaking hand.
"Offer them a VIP bounty if you must!"
The butler lowered his head again.
Carveth's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.
"I want that boy dead."
The mana-lamp flickered faintly.
"For the sake of the Empire."
His eyes burned with fanatical conviction.
"No matter the cost."
"…Understand?"
The butler remained bowed.
"…Yes, my lord."
Outside—
The night wind passed quietly through the gardens of House Carveth.
Unaware that somewhere within the silent estate…
A decision had just been made.
One that would bring its absolute ruin.