A mage? A spell engineer!

Chapter 533: Monk Gregory

The penultimate person received by the emperor scrambled out of the palace in a panic, and Wilhelm II even tried to snatch a hunting rifle from a guard and give the guy a good whack.

"Your Majesty, you're agitated again. As instructed by the Empress, you need some calming salt." A maidservant brought out a dish of grayish powder. According to the doctor, you should pinch one nostril closed and then carefully inhale the powder with the other nostril.

Wilhelm II rebuked the maid, saying, "Do you take me for a patient?"

The maid carrying the salt was startled and stood frozen to the side of the throne, too afraid to move. William calmed himself and said gently, "I know it was the Queen's idea. It's not your fault. You may leave now."

After saying that, he muttered, "Fyodora is, after all, a woman from the North, superstitious and easily swayed by slander."

After finishing his rambling, the emperor yawned: "Alright, who's next?"

The courtier replied tremblingly, "The Queen has ordered that you must see the wandering monk Gregory in person."

"..." William forced a smile: "Then please invite him up. Look, I'm not angry, I'm very restrained, and I don't need any calming drugs at all."

"The calming salt was presented by Gregory."

Wilhelm II remained remarkably composed in the face of the so-called monks. He believed that the devices within the palace would expose these people's true nature. The emperor was convinced that once spellcasters and divine benefactors were stripped of their magic and divine arts, they would be no better than ordinary people, at least displaying comical and ugly antics, such as making random gestures and chanting spells, but nothing would actually happen.

He enjoys watching such farces: "Quickly check if my anti-magic device is on full power, and then please welcome the next actor."

Gregory was at least presentable in terms of appearance; he was the first to enter the palace with greasy, curly hair, a scruffy beard, tattered clothes, and even barefoot.

Four guards pointed their guns at him, the tips of their bayonets almost touching his filthy monk's robes. But the wandering monk Gregory remained unmoved, continuing to walk, inching closer to the emperor.

"Stop!" William noticed that the newcomer was very tall, so he raised his hand and told the strange monk to stop at a distance where he could look down at him.

"It is an honor to meet you, the most esteemed master of the empire."

"Stop with the pleasantries, just tell me what you want from approaching me."

"I have come to resolve your regrets and troubles. Just like Her Majesty the Queen, who, in order to resolve her troubles, has dared to offer you calming salt."

"My regrets can't be solved with just a little ointment."

"Of course. The first thing to address is the regret you've had since childhood." Gregory flipped his wrist, and instantly a delicate little medicine bottle appeared in his palm. The dark green liquid inside seemed to flow with a shimmering light, as if it were alive.

His actions made the guards tense instantly, and it was William who signaled for the wandering monk to continue.

At this moment, he wondered how this person had managed it. The guards should have searched him when he entered, and it couldn't possibly be a storage alchemical container. William's confident sense of security began to waver slightly, and the childhood regrets the other person mentioned...

He instinctively lowered his scepter, his right hand reaching for the defect in his left arm. This was a habitual gesture William used to make, though he had been trying to restrain himself since his ascension to the throne. Now, he withdrew his hand again, and was enraged: "Fyodora dared to reveal this!"

Gregory made an innocent gesture, but his face beneath his greasy hair remained expressionless: "I am deeply terrified that Her Majesty the Queen has been wronged. It was a conclusion I reached through observation, and I happen to be able to concoct a miraculous potion to eliminate your regrets."

His speech quickened, as if worried that the emperor's patience was wearing thin: "A second regret is yet to come. Your army will suffer a crushing defeat."

"Spreading heresy and misleading the public! Guards, drag this evil monk to the stable and execute him!" The emperor, as expected, did not hesitate any longer and issued the verdict directly.

"And I will save your army! I will save your empire! I only ask that you bear witness!"

After the demonic monk shouted, a huge plume of smoke erupted from him, engulfing him and the surrounding guards. Inside the palace, a guard fired a shot haphazardly into the smoke, and the loud noise caused all the soldiers on guard outside and in other rooms to rush in, completely blocking the palace.

But when the smoke cleared, only the dirty monk's robe and the exquisite little medicine bottle remained.

"Gone?" Wilhelm II's agitation reached its peak. "Is the device still working?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Then...then..." He felt dizzy.

One of the guards suggested, "There might be underground tunnels in the palace!"

Normally, William would have found it absurd—who would dig a tunnel right under his nose?—but now this possibility was his last lifeline, and he quickly said, "Yes, yes! Quickly, pry up the floor tiles!"

So some guards went out to get tools, while others started smashing with their rifle butts.

However, after several pieces of marble were broken, a perfectly intact foundation was found underneath.

So the sorcerer monk had indeed disappeared; theoretically, there was no magic or divine power involved. Wilhelm II felt dizzy and almost collapsed on his throne.

Instead of fetching tools, one of the "guards" ran all the way to the stable, took off his winter coat hood, revealing greasy hair, and then turned his specially made guard uniform inside out, revealing a coarse cloth lining covered in patches.

Before, when he wore a robe, he was a wicked monk; when he took off the robe to reveal his uniform and put on a hat, he became a guard. Now, Gregory has become an ordinary coachman.

"Hey, just leaving like that?" Another guard stopped him; judging by the brim of his hat, he was a captain. This was the squad leader who was working with Gregory. He was the one who led the other guards into the smoke, misled the emperor, and sent people to fetch tools—all in one smooth motion. He was also the first to search the sorcerer monk. After the search, he and three other guards surrounded the monk with guns, making the last guard think there was no need for a second search.

"You won't be treated unfairly." Gregory tossed out a bag of gold coins and a bag of powder. The squad leader was more interested in the powder than the gold.

After testing the purity, he said, "What's the point of us risking our lives to stage a play like this?"

"His Majesty will accept the potion. Of course, he is suspicious and cautious, so he won't use it immediately. But he will waver after I prove myself."

"How can you prove it?"

"Everything I said is true, without a single lie. Ho ho. Farewell, palace, farewell, lovely Feodora!"

The sorcerer monk had already mounted his horse and was pulling the coal cart out. At the same time, he pulled a tattered felt hat from the cart, and after putting it on, he truly became an ordinary coachman. Originally, there would be no carts full of coal ash coming and going from the palace, but since the new emperor had banned magic, it was natural to return to traditional methods of heating.

The guards, seeing the man and car, both covered in black soot, rushing towards the gate, gestured with disdain for him to leave, lest he get his uniform dirty.

Gregory thus left the palace and headed south toward the battlefield.

(End of this chapter)