Chapter 231. Speak Kindly, and You Will Be Spoken To Kindly (1)
Caron and his companions passed through the checkpoint of Decus, the imperial capital, without any trouble.
The Imperial Guards' knights and elite soldiers, though standing stiffly, had no choice but to let them through. After all, they had no authority to stop a prince.
"Did you see their faces?" Leo muttered, glancing back at the checkpoint.
Leon gave a slow, heavy nod, then said, "They weren't exactly thrilled to see us."
The moment they spotted Caron's group, the guards had hurried to send word somewhere.
By now, the royal family was probably already aware that the grandchildren of Grand Duke Halo had arrived.
Yet Caron's expression remained relaxed.
"Of course they wouldn't be happy to see trouble walking through the gates. We expected this," he said with a small chuckle, casually surveying his surroundings.
The atmosphere of the capital was noticeably different from the last time he'd visited. There were fewer citizens on the streets, and squads of heavily armed soldiers patrolled everywhere. It was practically martial law.
The royal family was not only controlling the people within the capital, but also tightly restricting the flow of information going outward. Even they couldn't impose such extreme measures without some kind of excuse.
"According to the intelligence from the Magic Tower," Caron said, lowering his voice, "The newspapers run by nobles loyal to Marquis Diaz have been smearing the Ducal Family of Leston day after day."
The power of the press couldn't be underestimated. With developed communication magic and widespread propaganda mediums, public opinion could be easily swayed.
Gone were the days when rulers could simply crush the will of the people through brute force. The common folk were the very backbone of the empire's economy now. And their influence was incomparable to what it had been in the past.
Even the royal family's decision to recognize the Thebe Autonomous Territory had been driven by that very reality.
"These days, they say the pen is mightier than the sword, right? I think there's a lot of truth to that," Caron said, smiling faintly.
In his previous life, he would never have even dreamed of such a notion. But Caron wasn't the kind of man who stubbornly denied the changes of the times.
Though social classes still existed, they were no longer as absolute as they'd once been. Not only for the royal family, but even for the nobility, winning the hearts of the people had become crucial.
And that was precisely where Caron's plan would begin.
"I can tolerate insults aimed at me," Caron said, his voice dropping, "but not at my house."
Their first target would be those contemptible newspapers. Only by dealing with the media outlets that had been steadily escalating attacks could they properly defend the honor of the Ducal Family of Leston.
Caron turned to look at his companions, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"The pen can be mightier than the sword, sure," he said, his eyes glinting with a dangerous light. "But that's not always the case."
A dark gleam flickered in his gaze as he continued, "When a pen goes wrong... You just break it. Simple as that, right?"
"You're really going to go through with it?" Leo asked, half in disbelief.
Caron grinned and replied, "Always act in ways the enemy won't expect. That's the basic strategy. Who would ever guess I'd go straight for the newspapers the moment I arrived? Besides, I'm in a really bad mood right now."
"Why?" Leo asked.
With a completely serious expression, Caron answered, "Because inciting and manipulating public opinion is supposed to be my specialty. I'm not about to hand that role over to someone else."
It was for a very Caron-like reason.
At that, the rest of the group clicked their tongues and shook their heads helplessly, except for Revelio, who smiled proudly.
"Fighting propaganda with propaganda... An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Caron truly understands the art of war," he said approvingly.
"Prince Revelio," Hugo muttered with a half-defeated look. "That's just Caron being a terrible person."
I'm not the one who has to take responsibility anyway, he thought.
When Caron had visited the capital before, their grandfather had personally asked Hugo to watch over him. But this time, things were different.
As the eldest grandson, Hugo understood their grandfather's wishes better than anyone. Grandfather wants Caron to turn the capital upside down.
There was no need to help Caron; Hugo just had to stand aside and let him do as he pleased.
In that sense, this mission was almost too easy. At least he didn't have to waste energy trying to hold Caron back.
"Hugo, you remember my grandfather's place, right?" Caron asked.
"Yes, I do," Hugo replied with a nod.
"I'm leaving the others to you, then," Caron said.
"...And you?" Hugo asked warily.
"I told you, didn't I? The job of wreaking havoc in the capital is mine. I'll make a quick stop by the newspapers and then meet you there. Go ahead to Grandfather's house and wait for me there," Caron answered.
By now, rumors about the arrival of Grand Duke Halo's grandchildren had to have already spread throughout the city. In times like these, the key was to act boldly and quickly, before the other side had a chance to respond.
Caron swept his gaze across the group and said, "Once you're at Grandfather's, someone from the Magic Tower will come to find you. We have to stick to the plan. While you guys draw attention, I'll be setting fires all over the place. Easy, right?"
Of course, Caron's expression of 'setting fires' was probably meant figuratively. But still, Hugo couldn't help but think that if anyone would take it literally, it would be Caron.
"Caron... You do know committing crimes is a no-go, right?" Hugo asked, half-pleading.
Caron beamed at him and nodded cheerfully, then answered, "Don't worry. There'll be no evidence. No evidence, no crime, right?"
"You lunatic! A perfect crime is still a crime!" Hugo shouted.
"Anyway, you guys get moving. Oh, but wait, we need an alibi too..." Caron mused.
Swish.
Before anyone could react, he melted into the shadows, and from that darkness, another Caron emerged. It was a perfect copy, created through the power of the doppelganger.
The doppelganger spoke in Caron's exact voice. "This clone lasts about thirty minutes. Try to pass through crowded places, because the more witnesses there are, the better the alibi. Alright, I'm off."
Everyone except Leo stared in stunned silence at Caron's new ability.
Leon leaned in and poked Leo lightly in the side, then asked, "...What the hell is this?"
Leo let out a weary sigh and shook his head. He explained, "It's a long story. On the way to the North Sea, Caron absorbed a doppelganger."
The idea that there could now be multiple Carons made both Hugo and Leon's faces twist in horror.
"This is a disaster," Hugo muttered.
"A real disaster," Leon agreed grimly.
Among the group, only Revelio seemed genuinely intrigued by the clone.
"So you absorbed the abilities of a doppelganger? Hah, well... It wouldn't even be strange to call him the real Caron..." he said, reaching out to touch the copy's shoulder.
Smack!
The clone slapped Revelio hard on the back.
"Revelio, you want to die?" the clone snapped. "What kind of man touches my body?"
"Argh!" Revelio choked.
"Enough messing around. Let's move," Caron said. "And don't forget to wave at those guards who are still watching us."
With that, they hurried toward Caron's grandfather, Gyle's place.
***
At the headquarters of the Imperial Times, hailed as the empire's most prestigious newspaper...
The building stood proudly in the heart of the capital's busiest district, towering higher and more extravagantly than any surrounding structure. It was a clear testament to the overwhelming influence of the Imperial Times.
Octa, the president of the Imperial Times, sighed as he stood by the window, gazing down over the city. His office, perched on the seventh floor, offered an unbroken view of the bustling district below.
No, it should have been bustling. Instead, the streets lay eerily empty, the atmosphere tense as if a war were about to break out.
In a way, it was only natural, since rumors had spread like wildfire that the emperor was on the verge of death.
But Octa's concerns lay elsewhere. After all, it was the Imperial Times that had first broken the story about the emperor's failing health and possible imminent demise.
Knock knock knock.
As Octa brooded with a heavy expression, a knock came at the office door. He said, "Come in."
Moments later, a secretary dressed in a sharp, immaculate suit entered the room. He bowed politely and said in a careful voice, "President."
"Has there been any word from the royal family? Are they sending the Imperial Guards?" Octa asked urgently.
But the secretary shook his head, a troubled look on his face. He answered, "The royal family simply keeps repeating the same orders—to stay put and wait."
"...Hah," Octa let out a heavy sigh.
"However," the secretary continued, "The Marquis Diaz has promised to send his knights. If we wait just a little longer... Even the Ducal Family of Leston wouldn't dare make reckless moves in this climate."
Octa furrowed his brow. The secretary wasn't entirely wrong.
Nobles, by their very nature, placed great importance on honor. In a situation where even a whisper of rebellion could ruin them, they would think twice before making any rash decisions.
Especially Caron Leston, the young man hailed as a young hero. The fact that he had earned such a title at a young age suggested he was particularly obsessed with honor. Octa had never met him personally, but he knew from experience that true heroes moved with careful deliberation.
But still, there was no harm in preparing for the worst.
"We need to tighten security around the building. What about the mercenary companies stationed in the capital? Have you looked into them?" Octa asked.
"Yes. I made contact with two mercenary groups that hold gold badges. If we offer the right price, they're ready to sign contracts immediately," the secretary reported.
"Money-grubbing bastards," Octa muttered, but he couldn't really blame them. Given the circumstances, he was ready to throw open the vault.
Money was just a means to an end.
"All that matters is getting through this," Octa said.
Once Crown Prince Iorn ascended the throne, the rewards would be beyond imagining. Power and honor would be theirs, and once those were secured, money would follow naturally.
"Sign contracts with both mercenary companies. The Ducal Family of Leston probably won't act out easily, but there's always the risk," Octa instructed firmly.
Better to have insurance in place before trouble began.
The secretary nodded and replied, "Understood. I'll proceed immediately."
"Hurry," Octa said.
The secretary gave another bow and quickly exited the office.
Left alone, Octa turned his gaze back out the window. Dark clouds had gathered over the city. He muttered, "The weather's foul."
It was as if the heavens themselves mirrored the turmoil brewing below. Any moment now, it felt as if the skies could open up and unleash a torrential downpour.
Octa remained at the window, his face grim as he watched the uneasy city below.
It was at that very moment...
Knock knock knock.
From beyond the door came the voice of the secretary who had just left.
"P-President," the secretary stuttered.
"What now..." Octa grumbled, turning toward the door with clear irritation in his voice.
At that moment...
Boom!
The elegant door exploded inward with a deafening roar, sending dust billowing into the room.
Through the swirling dust, a young voice rang out. "The pen is mightier than the sword. I've always liked that saying."
A moment later, a young man stepped into view. He had blond hair and piercing blue eyes. In his right hand, he casually held a dark blue sword, and a bright, almost cheerful smile played across his lips.
Octa recognized him immediately.
"...Caron Leston," he said.
There was no mistaking it. It was the youngest grandson of Duke Halo, the empire's young hero. Caron Leston was standing there, in the flesh.
"My father used to tell me," Caron said, his tone almost conversational, "never to underestimate the power of the press. The power to sway public opinion lies in the pen. And you know what? I agree with him."
Something dark flickered in Caron's eyes, something menacing.
The moment Octa met that gaze, he realized a terrible truth. Caron Leston was nothing like the rumors suggested.
A young hero? A man who placed honor above all else? No, Octa thought. Nothing could be further from the truth.
He had met countless people in his career. He knew, better than anyone, what kind of men wore that look in their eyes.
Caron was a madman. And not just any madman, either. He was a truly dangerous one.
The fact that Caron had stormed the Imperial Times headquarters the moment he arrived in the capital proved it. This was a man who cared nothing for others' views or the consequences that could come along.
Octa's trembling hand slid beneath his desk, reaching for the emergency magic circle etched into the wood. It was a signal designed to alert the royal family and Marquis Diaz if things went wrong.
I must send the warning to them... Octa thought desperately.
But in that instant...
Shhk!
Caron's sword flashed, and the heavy desk split cleanly in two.
Blood dripped from Octa's right arm. That was the hand he had been reaching out toward the magic circle with.
"What's the rush?" Caron asked, smiling pleasantly. "I'm just here to give you a tip."
"A... A tip...?" Octa stuttered, his voice quivering.
Caron walked closer, still smiling as the sword dangled carelessly at his side.
"The so-called young hero, the youngest grandson of Duke Halo, turns out to be nothing but a notorious troublemaker," he said, laughing.
"...What?" Octa reacted.
Caron's smile widened as he leaned in, lowering his voice just enough to make the threat intimate. "Octa Lingard. Age fifty-three. Father of one son currently attending the Imperial Academy, and one daughter about to enroll. Am I right?"
"Are... Are you threatening me?" Octa asked, his voice breaking.
At that, Caron's grin turned even crueler.
"Bingo," he said.