Having lived much of his life apart from other people, Turan was unfamiliar with politics, though he had acquired some understanding of the concept: flattering superiors, winning over peers and subordinates, and ensnaring enemies in schemes and false accusations to consolidate one's own position.

Ordinary humans had to accommodate society to survive, so naturally they were subject to this political logic. Yet even powerful nobles could not escape it. They, too, had to navigate relationships with their own kin and with the nobles of other houses who made up the wider world.

And the larger a group grew, the more complex and tangled its politics became. Within the great houses, whose members stood above other nobles, internal politics were more sinister than most people could imagine.

Over the past several days, Turan had spent each day roaming the grounds disguised as a young knight, identifying which nobles lived in which mansions. At night, he broke into their homes and searched their studies for information. Each had devised creative ways to secure their study, but fortunately, none had been thorough enough to keep him out.

Perhaps they considered their studies the safest places of all. The deeper he dug, the more sordid tales came pouring out.

Taking bribes to influence the distribution of magic tools and mana within the house barely warranted a mention. Time and again, he found accounts of people toying with human lives, framing others for crimes they had never committed or misrepresenting the strength of monsters they were sent to hunt. There was even evidence of assassination orders, albeit couched in veiled language.

After reading numerous documents and piecing their contents together, Turan discovered that Arabion currently contained three factions. If he had to give them names, he would call them the elder faction, the middle generation, and the young faction.

As the name suggested, the elder faction consisted chiefly of nobles between three and four hundred years old, either contemporaries of the current House Head or slightly younger. Widely respected for their long years of service, they seldom involved themselves in the house's affairs.

The second faction, the middle generation to which Kadram belonged, comprised nobles between one and three hundred years old. They were effectively the mainstay of the house, monopolizing important positions and wielding all manner of authority. Notably, they actively supported the House Head's consort from House Nagin and her children, while treating Maysa with hostility.

Last came the young faction, centered on promising young nobles. Naturally the weakest of the three, they supported Maysa as the next House Head, but had failed to form any real bond with her.

Turan had concentrated his searches on the middle generation's studies. In doing so, he confirmed that they were systematically isolating Maysa.

First, they used the Zahar noble Reto to make Maysa suspect that Zahar assassins were constantly targeting her. Meanwhile, they fostered the impression that these assassins were merely a delusion, treating her as a madwoman.

Not only that, they sent away every servant who grew at all close to her and harassed the young faction's members who tried to befriend her, even killing them in extreme cases. That was why she lived with a handful of elderly maids in a mansion that was little more than a ruin.

He could now understand why Maysa had fled to House Berg's residence back then. Perhaps they had left the Bergs alone because interfering with a vassal house was too troublesome, or because they thought destroying even that refuge might truly drive her to suicide.

Fortunately, there was no sign of special treatment for House Berg or communication with them, suggesting they were not part of the conspiracy. That was a genuine relief. Had they been involved, it would have been terrible for Asiz as well as Maysa.

Piecing together this new information also revealed the meaning behind the old letter from Maysa's older half-brother, Renod.

'Judging by the circumstances... it looks like the middle generation killed Maysa's mother and younger brother.'

Though he did not appear in the genealogy, Maysa had had a younger brother. Ten years ago, in 2207, he had died alongside their mother at just eight years old, before even awakening his mana.

Renod's letter had been written that same year. Wasn't that a remarkable coincidence if the two were unrelated?

'Officially, it was an accident.'

Maysa's mother, Orin Berg, had been a bottom-tier noble who had barely manifested her bloodline ability, yet she had won the House Head's favor by bearing him a powerful child. Then one day she had died in an accident, and the matter had been quietly buried as though she had never existed. Even her relative Asiz had only been told she had "died in an accident," without learning what that accident was.

Several accounts mentioned that the lawful wife from House Nagin resented the concubine who had borne a noble of an heir's caliber. Considering that her supporters commanded a Zahar noble, their involvement in this accident would hardly be surprising.

While searching the middle generation's mansions, Turan had even found circumstantial evidence that they had "dealt with" Orin.

[Use Reto. Eliminate mother and son.]

[Confirmed.]

The document did not specify whose mother and son, but given that it dated to 2207, the implications were clear. Later, he had also found several remarks reprimanding those responsible.

[The mother and child were excessive. The subject has broken down.]

[Necessary to ensure isolation.]

[Find a way to restore her.]

Maysa's aversion to eating seemed to have begun with her mother and brother's deaths. Their description of her as having "broken down" suggested that they were far from pleased about it. Perhaps that was because the body a god was meant to inhabit was deteriorating.

A few remarks complained that the problem was difficult to overcome because they still had to keep Maysa isolated. These left Turan halfway convinced that a divine being stood behind the middle generation. Just as Solif had been molded into a particular personality, they were clearly isolating Maysa to manipulate hers.

'Then again, tormenting Maysa like this would make no sense without that kind of backing in the first place.'

Antagonizing an irreplaceable heir—the unquestioned next House Head and the future seat of power—to this extent was quite literally suicidal. Especially with the current House Head already declining in his old age, it would hardly be surprising if the entire middle generation were purged the moment she succeeded him.

The most likely reason they persisted was that they knew the secret of the soul replacement. Once a Freyan soul inhabited her body, there would be no one to hold them accountable for all the injustices Maysa had suffered.

No, it was more likely that the Freyan had personally ordered these measures to make the transfer easier. Harming Maysa's mother and younger brother was probably part of the plan to isolate her as well.

None of the documents here mentioned orders from the House Head, but however influential these nobles might be, even acting together they could not have persecuted the heir to this extent without his tacit approval.

The problem was the absence of conclusive evidence of either the soul exchange or the murder of Maysa's family. Perhaps, however private their studies were, they had felt uneasy about leaving such secrets explicitly on record. Nothing he found went that far.

'Should I gather more information, or tell Maysa right away?'

After considerable deliberation, Turan decided it was time to make direct contact with her. He had thoroughly searched the homes of most of the influential nobles. To go further, he would have to break into the House Head's own residence or seize nobles from the middle generation and torture them for information. Both were far too risky without first securing Maysa's cooperation.

He had all the material he needed to persuade her. By adapting the thought-imprinting technique used to create portraits with ash and paper, he had copied every relevant document.

Given Maysa's current circumstances, simply handing over these materials should be enough to earn her trust.

* * *

Turan chose to contact Maysa on the night marking exactly ten days since his infiltration. With so many people about during the day, any unexpected noise was more likely to attract attention. Night would also make it easier to escape under stealth if something went wrong.

Leaving the mansion where he had been hiding, he flew toward Maysa's residence and extended the Holy Relic's senses as far as possible. Countless living presences within the main compound entered his awareness.

He checked them one by one, then sighed faintly upon realizing that once again, he had failed to find his target.

'Still nothing?'

Over the past few days, Turan had used the Holy Relic's senses whenever he had time to check for members of other races here. Judging by his past encounters with Dark Elf wraith sorcerers, he ought to be able to sense a White Elf Living Spirit Sorcerer's presence as well.

That left him with roughly two possibilities: either they did not need a Living Spirit Sorcerer to replace souls, or they were keeping one outside the main compound or confined in a special space that prevented detection.

Personally, he suspected the latter. His experiences so far had shown that the Mimic Holy Relic's senses could be blocked in surprisingly absurd circumstances.

As he approached Maysa's mansion with these thoughts running through his mind, Turan realized she was not at home. It was two in the morning, hardly an hour when most people would have business to attend to.

'Where did she go?'

Had she slept too much during the day and gone for a walk because she could not sleep at night? Fortunately, her presence was so immense that he found her easily once he widened his senses.

On reflection, her leaving home was an ideal opportunity. Fearing that her room might contain some secret surveillance system even the Holy Relic could not detect, he had intended only to slip the documents inside. Out here, he could actually speak to her.

Following her presence, Turan came upon a large bakery faintly scented with stale bread and flour. The building supplied freshly baked bread throughout Arabion's main compound, but with all the bakers gone home and its lights extinguished, it looked utterly desolate.

Turan entered, following Maysa's presence, then quickened his steps at a strange sound from within.

"Urgh, ugh..."

The voice was Maysa's, of course. To his astonishment, she was cramming leftover bread from one side of the bakery into her mouth. She clamped her lips shut and covered them with a hand, but moments later she could hold it back no longer and vomited everything up.

"Hah..."

Catching her breath, Maysa burned away the vomited bread with ignition magic so fiercely hot that it left not even smoke. Then she picked up another piece and stuffed it into her mouth. Tears streamed down her face from the repeated retching, yet she would not stop. It was a pitiable sight.

Only then did Turan realize what she was doing. Unable to bear eating, she was clearly trying to force some nourishment into herself any way she could.

'Oh no...'

This was hardly something she would want anyone to see. Would it be better to pretend he had seen nothing and wait for another chance to speak to her?

After a moment's hesitation, Turan dropped his stealth. Pretending he had seen nothing when he had witnessed it all would be little better than deception. More importantly, he would have few opportunities to speak freely with her if he let this one pass.

By morning or later in the day, Maysa would return to that desolately empty mansion. The bakery, by contrast, was solidly built and far more soundproof than her ruined home. Above all, it was unlikely to have a dedicated surveillance system.

"Maysa."

Startled by the sudden voice, Maysa spun around. Turan quickly raised both hands to show he meant no harm, and the lightning gathering at her fingertips scattered into the air with a crackle. He was certain a direct hit would have dealt him considerable damage even with his guardian magic tool fully activated.

"Turan? How did you get here? Wait, are you... an illusion?"

Perhaps it was because someone so utterly unlikely to be here had appeared out of nowhere. Maysa cautiously poked his shoulder with a finger to check that he was real. Had it not been for what he had just witnessed, the sight might have made him chuckle.

"You are real. How on earth did you... No, more importantly, did you see... all of that?"

"I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

Maysa's severely emaciated face made her expressions harder to read than most people's, but he thought he saw a mixture of anger and embarrassment. Naturally so. No young woman would want someone to witness her repeatedly eating and vomiting, especially when it was tied to a deeply personal emotional wound.

A moment later, those emotions gave way to shock and wariness. Only now did she seem to have fully considered what Turan's presence here meant.

"How on earth did you get in here? Did you come with Asiz? If you had arrived as a guest, I would have heard about it."

"I sneaked in. But could you look at this first? It's important."

Casually mentioning that he had infiltrated a great house's stronghold—something that would have horrified anyone else—Turan held out the documents he had copied from the Arabion nobles' mansions. Despite everything, Maysa took and unfolded them rather than pressing him further.

"What is this?"

"Something I obtained from the nobles here."

She could read them and judge their truth for herself. When he said no more, Maysa looked back and forth between him and the papers, then began scanning them intently with her large, protruding eyes.

Turan added lightly, "For reference, the Reto mentioned there is indeed the maid here in the main compound. She's a noble with the Zahar bloodline."

Maysa's whole body flinched at this startling revelation, but she did not stop reading. She seemed already deeply absorbed in the contents.

After another ten minutes or so, Maysa crumpled the papers in her hands and burst into laughter. Her skeletal hands trembled.

"I knew it. I knew it would be something like this. Of course. I wasn't mad..."

Turan worried that she might grow so agitated she would faint, but fortunately, she kept herself fairly well under control, doing no more than shedding streams of tears. Though he did wonder where that wasted body could possibly find so many tears.

After a while, Maysa calmed a little and looked at Turan.

"Then would you tell me now? How you got these, and why you came to show them to me."

Despite her demand for an explanation, the blue eyes turned toward him were already full of trust. Turan could sense how desperately she had wanted this information—and how deeply she trusted him for bringing her what she had longed for.