Mist Empire’s Rise: Fake Noble to Fog Queen

Winnie and Luo Wei had just reached Temple Square when monks blocked their way.

To clear a path for the Bishop and the Divine College's procession, the square—and the streets running north and south from it—had been cordoned off.

They waited outside, watching the Bishop's gilded carriage approach from the city gate, trailed by a silver, carved coach three or four times its size.

Half a head taller than Luo Wei, Winnie stared at the rear carriage, her reddened eyes wide. "The Divine College got here this early? I thought they'd only show up tomorrow!"

That was the Ten Great Academies' usual style: wait for every other school to gather, then sweep in grandly on the tournament morning.

Luo Wei looked, but from her angle saw only the rounded, arched roof.

Only one carriage?

Could it seat thirty?

The Divine College still hadn't submitted its roster. Were they entering only the Junior Division this year?

Wheel clatter grew louder. The towering silver coach rolled through the center of the square. White gauze veiled the transparent windows, the fabric swaying faintly.

The glare off the body was so harsh Luo Wei half‑squinted. Through the gauze she made out several youths sitting opposite each other. Their faces tilted toward the windows, looking down through the thin veil at the short, tightly packed crowd below.

Standing amid that crowd, she felt she'd become part of their scrutiny. Several gazes skimmed past above her head, then returned, pausing briefly on her before sliding away with the carriage's forward glide.

She lowered her eyes—unsure whether it was imagination, or they had truly seen her.

Nothing about her outfit today stood out. She'd never even met students from the Divine College. They couldn't be looking at her just because she was pretty… right?

The coach turned into the Temple's side gate reserved for the Bishop's carriage. The monks finally withdrew, restoring the square and streets to the townsfolk.

Luo Wei and Winnie had taken only a few steps when the maids hurried up from South Street with Mr. and Mrs. Charlie and little Darm.

"Mistress, we found them!"

Seeing Luo Wei, the maids stopped and bowed.

Luo Wei nodded. "Good work. Go find Housekeeper Bella for your reward."

The Charlies stood like children who'd done something wrong, hands twisting, shoulders hunched. Muscles around their eyes twitched before a flattering smile was squeezed out. "R‑Respected Miss…"

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

"Mr. Charlie," Luo Wei said, pointing gently toward their daughter, "Winnie was very worried when she heard you were lost."

"Father, Mother," Winnie muttered, "please don't wander off again."

"We won't—won't wander again!" they said, heads shaking vigorously.

False alarm over, they all returned to Star Luo Residence.

From the shadows, a pair of eyes tracked them until they passed through the gate—then vanished soundlessly.

In a dim room, half‑burned charcoal embers flickered a lurid crimson.

Curtains were sealed tight. Furnishings ornate to the point of excess bloomed like heady flowers, exuding rot‑sweet decadence. White and black smoke threaded the air. Melting frankincense and myrrh released a fragrance where sweetness and bitterness entwined.

"Frankincense symbolizes the sacred; myrrh stands for suffering."

A long, slender hand, skin faintly loosened, lifted a delicate silver spoon and nudged pale yellow and reddish‑brown resin softening over the coals.

"But to me, there's no difference."

A deep, magnetic voice unspooled—unhurried, expounding his private creed.

"The sacred burns on suffering. Suffering is the soul of eternity. Divinity itself is useless—it revives no one, reaches no heaven."

"Seeking divinity inside suffering is a cat‑and‑mouse game."

"When the cat finishes with the mice, it walks into its own grave."

A youth kneeling at the hem of an ornate robe asked, "Godfather, are we the mice or the cats?"

"Both," the man answered calmly. "We are the fleeing mice—and the dying cats."

"Why can't we be people?" the youth asked, puzzled.

A low chuckle. "All people of the mortal world are destined for the gods' altar. Humans, cattle, sheep—livestock offerings. Mice can flee. Cats find peace after death."

"My child, would you rather be a fleeing mouse—or a peaceful cat?"

The youth fell into thought. Before he found an answer, the man's hand brushed his head.

"Enough for today. Go, my child—your companions need you."

"Yes, Godfather."

Still full of questions, the youth withdrew from the Reliquary Chamber.

As the hidden door shut, a rigid human face surfaced upon the gilded wall.

"Speak. What did you learn?" The man flicked a piece of burst myrrh into a water‑filled chalice; a skim of black ash spread across the surface.

"Your Eminence, those three youths did not leave the Academy today. But the Princess from the Misty Plains is very close to a commoner girl—she even received the girl's family inside."

"A commoner? What kind?"

"A very ordinary kind—poor, weak, timid, foolish. I used a little magic to separate them; they thought they'd simply lost their way."

With a soft click the man set the silver spoon down, gaze darkening. "This is Siria Magic Academy's territory. You dared use magic here? Who permitted you to act on your own?"

His tone never rose, yet the face in the wall felt a slicing chill.

"I recognize my fault—please punish me, Your Eminence!" it quavered.

"This time is waived. Next time—penalties combined."

"Yes—thank you for Your Eminence's mercy!"

Lowering his eyes to the coil of black smoke lifting off the frankincense, he said, "After so much effort, we should reap something. Continue."

"Yes, Your Eminence." The face sank back; the chased gold surface grew smooth again.

Inside, a peculiar sweet, citrus‑like richness thickened, smothering the bitter resin of myrrh.

The man sat unmoving on a golden throne—the emblem of treasured faith—letting black smoke stain the fine lines and slight hollows of his handsome face.

After a long stillness, his ink‑blue eyes opened, interest flowing within them.

The game of cat and mouse was about to begin.

He would see whether the mouse ran faster—or the cat's claws.

…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
patreon.com/BZDXG - Unlock a HUGE stash of advance chapters now!
Dive deeper into the story ahead of everyone else!