Dorothy’s Forbidden Grimoire

When the blazing radiant beam destroyed the defense system and pierced the Scourge of Flame from top to bottom with unstoppable force, the massive ten-thousand-ton vessel trembled violently. Passengers aboard the ship were thrown off balance by the shock, many of them falling where they stood.

The radiant light disappeared just moments after it had appeared. In the grand hall of the Scourge of Flame, everyone stared in stunned silence at the spot where the beam had vanished. Hajetta, who had just moments earlier been sprinting across the floor, had completely disappeared—replaced by two gaping holes, two to three meters in diameter, one in the floor and the other in the ceiling. The previously quiet atmosphere gave way to blaring alarms and chaos.

"Report! Inquisitor Clifton! Emergency shields have been breached! The bottom of the ship has been pierced—we're taking on massive amounts of water!"

A priest burst through the doors, stumbling into the hall and shouting his report. Clifton's expression darkened further upon hearing the news.

"Seal the breach at once! All forces, move!" he commanded.

"Yes, sir!" the priest answered, then turned and ran back the way he came.

Clifton's eyes then snapped toward the floating projection of Sister Ivy. Unable to suppress his fury, he barked out.

"Sister Ivy… do you realize what you've done?!"

"Of course I do," Ivy replied calmly.

"You killed a man! On the Scourge of Flame! On the Inquisition's territory! Without my permission! And you damaged the Scourge of Flame! Do you even understand what consequences this will bring?!"

"Consequences?" Ivy asked, her voice as cool as ever.

"What consequences? Are you planning to put me on trial? You, little Clifton—do you think you have the authority to judge me? Even if High Inquisitor Kramar wanted to try me, he'd need approval from the Holy See or the Cardinal Council. And if you do appeal to the Cardinals, might I suggest including the surveillance footage of you holding back your own people and allowing an assassin to attack a key witness? Let's see how that goes for you."

Clifton's face twisted with rage. He gripped the armrests of his chair tightly and hissed.

"Sister Ivy… don't go too far!"

"I advise you, Inquisitor Clifton, to exercise some restraint and adopt a more appropriate attitude. If you continue to act in such a disgracefully biased manner, then my next move won't be as merciful as the last. I believe neither of us wants a scandal where the Scourge of Flame gets sunk by allied holy fire. So let's bring the focus back to what matters—this case."

Ivy's words remained calm, but the pressure behind them was immense. Clifton, overwhelmed, had no choice but to suppress his anger. He glanced at the now-pale Robert and the collapsed Ma'ad before grinding his teeth and saying.

"Fine… fine… forget the rest for now. Let's return to the case at hand…"

With a sour expression, Clifton turned his gaze toward the center of the ritual array, where the soul of Prince Mazarr floated—still shaken by the earlier beam of light. Just as he was about to speak, Robert suddenly stood up and shouted.

"Your Excellency!"

Clifton turned his head and saw Robert standing before his seat, his face filled with panic and expectation. Glancing once at Ivy's composed expression, Clifton let out a long sigh and finally looked back at the prince's spirit.

"Prince Mazarr, do you remember how you died?"

"I…" Mazarr's soul was briefly confused.

Then, his expression hardened—filled with pain and fury. He turned to look at Robert and Ma'ad.

"I was strangled to death! Someone choked me to death! After I was shot at the station, I lost consciousness. When I came to, I was imprisoned in a room. They told me they were treating me, but two days later, they killed me outright!

"I recognize them… they were from the City Guard! They were Robert's men! The one who strangled me was Captain Hajetta! He was definitely under Robert's orders! I was murdered by Robert!

"And… and my uncle, Prince Ma'ad—he was extremely close to Robert. It was he who insisted I attend the welcome ceremony at the station that day! He knew! He and Robert conspired to send me to my death!"

With righteous fury, the spirit of Mazarr denounced both Robert and Ma'ad. The medium echoed his words across the hall.

Silence fell once again.

Clifton groaned and rubbed his forehead. Robert slumped into his seat, face ashen. Ma'ad collapsed to the floor in shock. Ivy remained unmoved. Vania clutched her hands to her chest in prayer.

Meanwhile, on the deck of the Scourge of Flame, countless crew members scrambled to repair the damage caused by the divine beam. One sailor, exhausted, sat aside to rest—and glanced up at the clouded sky, toward the spot the radiant beam had come from.

With the help of the Lantern in his eyes, he saw something in the thick clouds above—a massive silhouette.

…

As the confrontation aboard the Scourge of Flame unfolded, elsewhere in the foreign residential district of Kankdal, Dorothy—dressed in a short-sleeved dress—sat inside a café. She sipped her coffee while gazing out toward the distant harbor. Just moments earlier, she had seen that brilliant, blazing light that had shot down from the sky in an instant.

"What terrifying destructive power… That Sister Ivy… I didn't expect that the faction backing Vania within the Church actually has someone of that caliber. It seems they really are taking Vania seriously…"

"But fortunately, it's because of Sister Ivy's presence here that we've been able to hold our ground against the Kankdal authorities and the Inquisition. Otherwise, we would've had no choice but to grab Vania and flee in the dead of night…"

As she sipped her coffee, Dorothy pondered silently. By observing the entire confrontation aboard the Scourge of Flame through Vania's perspective, she already had a full picture of how things had concluded. Everything had gone roughly as she had anticipated. The only surprise had been Ivy's intervention—and after carefully watching how she made her move, Dorothy's suspicions about Ivy deepened.

"Whew… In any case, if all went well on the Scourge of Flame, then the entire Kankdal affair is pretty much wrapped up. What comes next is just tying up some loose ends…"

With that thought, Dorothy shifted her attention to another part of the city.

…

Elsewhere in the foreign district, on a bustling commercial street, Nephthys stood at the corner of an intersection, dressed in a robe and wearing a headscarf and face veil. Before her flowed a stream of carriages and pedestrians, and across the street stood a grandly decorated pawnshop.

"This should be the place, based on the address…"

Muttering to herself, Nephthys carefully crossed the road to the opposite side. After glancing around to make sure no one was watching, she climbed the steps and entered the pawnshop.

Inside, she glanced around at the somewhat opulent decor. There were several counters in the main hall. After scanning them carefully, she walked toward one that appeared unoccupied and soon arrived at the counter.

"Welcome. Are you here to pawn something?" the clerk behind the counter asked politely. Nephthys nodded slightly and inquired.

"I'd like to ask if you accept stonecore coins?"

"Stonecore coins…"

A peculiar glint flashed in the clerk's eyes. He gave Nephthys a quick once-over, then replied.

"Yes, ma'am, we do accept stonecore coins here. However, I don't handle those directly—they need to be evaluated at a specialized counter. If you really want to pawn stonecore coins, I can take you there."

"Then I'll trouble you."

With that, the clerk came out from behind the counter and led her to the side of the hall. Nephthys followed closely. At the edge of the hall, the clerk opened a small door, and Nephthys entered behind him.

Beyond the door lay a narrow, winding corridor. As they walked, Nephthys followed without a word. After turning several corners and passing multiple intersections, they arrived at a heavy iron door. The clerk turned to Nephthys and said,

"Alright, this is the place. You can complete the transaction inside."

"Thank you," Nephthys replied.

She waited until the clerk had walked away before turning toward the iron door, opening it, and stepping inside without hesitation.

Behind the door was a small stone chamber, its walls tightly sealed and windowless. A few gas lamps hung from the walls, casting a dim light. Ahead was a small window sealed with iron plating, punctured with tiny holes that connected this room to the one beyond. A single chair sat in front of the window.

The scene was not unfamiliar to Nephthys. Last year in Tivian, she had visited a similar room. This was one of the White Craftsmen's Guild's secret transaction rooms—used for trading in mystical assets. This pawnshop was one of the Guild's strongholds in Kankdal.

After a quick look around, Nephthys sat in the chair before the window. She looked at the iron-plated panel and said,

"I'd like to check my account balance and withdraw a portion."

"Proof."

A low voice came from the window. Nephthys reached into her robe, pulled out a golden ring, and passed it through an opening in the panel. A hand reached out from within and took the ring.

She waited in silence. Two minutes later, the voice from the window returned, this time tinged with surprise.

"This is… the credential of the first-in-line heir to Baruch—Prince Mazarr?"

"Yes," Nephthys replied firmly.

"…As far as we know, Prince Mazarr was assassinated a few days ago. What is your relation to him?"

"That's… not the kind of question your Guild typically asks its clients, is it?" she responded coolly.

"We have no desire to pry into our clients' identities," the voice replied, "but we are responsible for ensuring our clients' assets are handled properly. If you wish to withdraw funds belonging to Prince Mazarr, you must either prove that he authorized you to do so while alive… or demonstrate that you are his direct blood relative—or his wife. But to our knowledge, Prince Mazarr was unmarried."

After a brief silence, Nephthys sighed. She then retrieved a folder from her robes and handed it through the slot.

"This is Prince Mazarr's signed will. It clearly states that in the event of his death, all of his assets are to be left to me. It bears his handwriting, soul-mark, blood seal, and the official royal seal of Baruch. You may verify it yourself."

The iron panel hesitated briefly, then a hand emerged and took the folder.