Gunmage
Chapter 185: Hands behind the blade

Chapter 185: Chapter 185: Hands behind the blade

"About what you and the Queen were talking about."

"Ack! Shut your big mouth!"

Selaphiel interrupted hastily, the words tumbling from her lips in a panic.

Her eyes flared with alarm, and she instinctively stepped forward, posture tense like a spring-loaded trap.

She was unwilling—no, utterly determined—not to divulge her secrets.

It was unthinkable that Lugh had somehow managed to bypass all the wards, guards, and layers of magical and political defenses they’d set up.

And yet, he had done just that—he’d heard the curtains of their discussion.

Accepting that had been hard. Swallowing the reality of it was even harder. She’d barely come to terms with it, but now he was threatening to tell the others?

Not a chance in hell.

Her mind flickered through the options. If she had to restrain him physically, she wouldn’t hesitate.

She’d fought worse threats than a curious, sharp-tongued boy—though not many had proven as slippery as him. Just as she began to tense for action—

"Don’t worry,"

Lugh said calmly, almost lazily.

"I won’t spill anything... confidential."

Her clenched shoulders relaxed a fraction.

"But it’s okay if I talk about your mission, right?"

That made her pause. Then her eyes narrowed in understanding.

Oh. So that’s what this is about.

Of course he’d want to know.

"Okay then. Carry on."

But Lugh surprised her again.

He gave a slight shrug.

"Actually... I think it’s best if you explain this part. Considering you’re the one who did it, after all."

Selaphiel could barely resist glaring at him.

Unbelievable.

First, he eavesdrops on a top-level conversation, then he has the audacity to delegate the explanation back to her in front of the others.

This boy was getting too bold for his own good. Perhaps dangerously so. Still, she complied, albeit with a long, slow exhale and a cool glance that promised retaliation if he pushed further.

"The reason I left on a journey for ten years is because—"

"Huh? You were gone for ten years?"

Lance cut in, blinking.

"Yes, I was."

"Wow,"

Jahira said.

"I didn’t even notice."

"Of course you didn’t,"

Selaphiel replied sharply, her tone dripping with quiet rebuke.

Then, ignoring their expressions, she continued with smooth precision.

"What Lugh wants me to explain... is the mission I was given."

"Mission?"

Isolde repeated, now clearly intrigued.

"Yes. Mission."

Selaphiel’s gaze turned slightly more serious.

"By the Queen herself."

Her words settled over the group like a sudden drop in temperature. Lugh stilled, spine straightening.

That’s right.

This war had been raging for ten years now. A whole decade. And yet...

He couldn’t feel the effects. Not really. No scarcity of food. No looming dread in the manor halls. Life went on as normal—at least for nobles like him.

Was it because of his social status?

If so, then... what of the common people? The ones who didn’t have wealth or magic to shield them?

This was bad. Very bad.

But he said nothing, choosing instead to let Selaphiel finish her explanation.

"At the time, there were indicators. Proof that something clandestine and sinister was happening beneath the surface"

She said.

"Generals were assassinated. Influential ministers were found dead, sparking violent succession struggles. Political chaos reigned.

And then, to make matters worse, a plague hit our crops. A particularly brutal one—it wiped out more than half of our food sources."

Lance leaned forward, frowning.

"Just... like that?"

Selaphiel nodded.

"It was later confirmed through the Queen’s private channels and other investigatory methods that the pathogens—the ones that killed both the plants and our livestock—were mystically induced."

That made the room go quiet.

Magical warfare. A silent invasion through blight and death. That meant one thing: a magic civilization was involved.

"If that was true,"

Selaphiel continued,

"We knew we were in serious trouble. We began preparing for a defensive war. Then, about a month later—when Pyrellis was still smoldering from internal conflict and sabotage—Heieg invaded."

Her words were sharp. Deliberate.

"I was tasked with finding out who was behind it. What magical civilization instigated this war. What their goals were. Why they chose now."

A deep silence followed. Everyone took time to digest the scope of what she’d just revealed.

Then Jahira scoffed.

"Why are you still following the orders of that evil woman?"

"The Queen?"

Selaphiel raised a brow.

"Who else could I mean?"

For a moment, Selaphiel said nothing. Then, unexpectedly, she smiled.

"Well... let’s just say I owe her a very big favor."

"Can we get back on track?"

Lugh interrupted. His tone was eager but measured. He wanted the rest of the truth, the details.

He’d heard scraps from when he was controlling his furry puppets—but without context, it was like trying to read through fog.

He pressed.

"So. Were you able to do it?"

Selaphiel arched a brow.

"Do what?"

"Complete the assignment given to you by the Queen."

That made her grin.

"Just who do you think I am?"

She asked, voice thick with pride.

"Of course I did. I found them. Oh, I found them."

But her eyes flicked around—toward the shelves, the empty glasses, as if searching for alcohol, or something to bury what she’d uncovered.

She exhaled.

"Not just one group. Multiple countries. Multiple organizations. All of them backing our invaders from the shadows. And they’re the most likely culprits behind the burning of the temple in Heieg."

Lugh’s fingers twitched, itching for a notebook, a pen, something to record this.

Selaphiel continued, her voice now low and bitter.

"And I don’t think the upper brass of Heieg are unaware. Far from it. I think... I think they’re using the situation. Presenting this as a noble war of revenge and justice—but they’re just tools. Tools wielded by magical empires with old grudges."

Lugh nodded slowly, the puzzle finally starting to take shape in his mind.

"So Heieg is the sharp blade... and the magical civilizations are the hand holding it."

"Pretty much,"

Selaphiel confirmed.

There was a murmur as everyone digested the implications. Lugh didn’t stop.

He leaned forward now, fully engaged, no longer hiding his intent.

He had been transparent earlier—laying bare his secrets and the truth about the Siege of Drakensmar.

It had bought him this: honesty in return. And he wasn’t going to waste it.

He asked, voice careful but firm:

"Why do the magical civilizations hate us so much? Enough to engineer a war of annihilation between Ophris and Heieg? From what I know, this isn’t a particularly aggressive country. What did we do to make them so mad?"

Selaphiel looked at him for a moment, then said flatly:

"That’s easy to answer. It’s because Ophris was once colonized by the elven kingdom of Jazeer."

Lugh blinked.

"Huh?"

He stared, waiting for the joke. It didn’t come.

"So they hate us... because we were colonized?"

"That doesn’t make any sense."

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