"We need to make the rumors true. There are probably more people who don't believe it than those who do."
"It is a fact written in history books that royals with the Shadow Curse die young. Do you really think the nobles believe that? The cautious Duke of Linchester?"
"You have to make them believe. It doesn't matter whether the Duke believes it or not. It's more important that the people around the Duke believe it."
The reason the Duke of Linchester's power remained so strong was that the nobles believed that he would regain control of the palace after Julian's death.
But what if Julian doesn't die?
They would be shaken just by the thought that he might last longer than they thought.
The nobles could no longer support the Duke of Linchester, who was cowering and hiding, unable to oppose Julian.
I realized that the focal point of the hostilities was not the Duke of Linchester, but Julian's death.
"Mileah, I need to meet with the prophets."
Millea tilted her head at the odd word that came out of context.
"Prophets?"
There are people in the world like Julian who inherit mystical abilities through their bloodline, and there are also people like me who are born with a sensitive disposition to magi and acquire this ability by chance.
The same goes for prophets.
Some people sometimes predict the future through dreams or natural phenomena.
"If they all say with one voice that the rumor is true, people will believe it to be true."
"But it might not be easy to bribe prophets."
Millea frowned.
"They are stiff-necked. They don't bow their heads to anyone. They believe in the future, and they only follow God."
The Duke of Linchester and Josephine had also tried in the past to manipulate the prophets to their liking, although of course, they failed.
Prophets did not submit to power but gave their lives when given to do so.
I smiled as if to tell her not to worry.
"We just have to find the real prophets. They will listen to us."
Millea tilted her head.
"Isn't that the opposite?"
Those who make false prophecies are usually motivated by money, and It is not difficult to buy them off with a lot of money.
The problem is that few people believe them.
True prophets are the ones who have the most influence, but they are hard to buy.
But I was saying that only real prophets would listen to me.
"Don't worry. I have a way."
I was confident.
Because it's not just prophets who know the future.
***
That night, Bridget and Milea secretly climbed into the carriage.
The two were wearing the clothes Anna had given them.
It was a simple skirt worn by maids.
They were fully prepared in case the protesters recognized Bridget.
Julian sat on the spire and watched them quietly slip out of the palace under the cover of darkness.
'...'
The spring breeze, which had become quite warm, swept through his hair.
This was a place that overlooked not only the royal palace but the entire capital city.
He would come up here whenever he felt depressed, but no one knew that he came up here often.
'What on earth are you doing, shooting around?'
Julian watched the carriage as it passed the main gate of the palace, ran along the main street, and eventually entered an alleyway of a private house.
Judging from their attire and the direction they were going, they didn't seem like they were going to a social gathering.
It was unusual for Millea, who had been to a social gathering the night before, to go out every day.
And she came out looking so suspicious? It was the first time this had happened.
'I think Bridget is pouring the water wrong.'
He knew the two of them were plotting something.
'I'm not sure what that is, though.'
When Bridget's name was in the gossip magazine, Millea would come over and tell him in detail what Bridget had been up to, but now, when he asked her, she would just change the subject in a suspicious way.
'Even if Millea is fooled by Bridget, she is fooled deeply.'
If Millea knew what Bridget did to him in the past, she wouldn't be hanging out with her like that.
Still, Julian had no intention of getting involved.
Because he decided to embrace Bridget.
Besides, Millea seemed strangely happy these days, so he thought it would be okay to leave her alone.
That was it.
"I'll do it again if you want. Kiss."
Why do I suddenly remember that day?
Whenever he thought of Bridget, that sound would come to mind without him realizing it.
Julian looked at the carriage Bridget had been riding in for a long time.
***
"Why are there such noble people in such a shabby place?"
The prophet lived in the slums. Millea had found to meet.
Unlike other prophets who often hid from the public, only appearing to prophesy, Nostram was always here.
He looked like he was 100 years old.
He was walking around barefoot on a cold night with a strong wind blowing, not wearing a coat or even a top.
He was very skinny, with bony limbs and a bulging belly, and his body was hunched over.
His messy, unkempt white hair was left hanging loosely, giving him an unclean look.
He was always acting strangely and begging for food, so people avoided him regardless of whether they believed him or not.
People thought he was crazy.
However, his prophecies were so incredibly accurate that they had great influence, even for a madman.
Even now, he was smearing cow dung on the outside of the rag hut where he lived. Millea backed away in disgust when she realized that the basket he was holding was full of cow dung with flies fluttering around.
Nostrum laughed heartily at that.
"You live in a place filled with things dirtier than cow dung, and you find it disgusting!"
He threw cow dung at Millea. It fell on Millea's feet. She was shocked.
Bridget stopped Nostram like that.
"Old man. I came to know that you are a great prophet."
"You listen to everything obvious. Who comes to me without knowing that? Haha!"
"Why do you smear cow dung on the walls?"
Nostrum revealed his yellow, rotten teeth.
"I am the one who enlightens people about what they do not know, the one who purifies."
A person who cleanses.
There was no doubt that he knew Bridget's identity.
"What don't people know?"
"What you know and what I know."
It was an unfriendly hint.
He turned around again and smeared cow dung on the wall.
Bridget watched his actions quietly.
Near his hut stood four high mounds of mud, their ends compacted into cones.
The arrangement of the huts and mud mounds was just like the central palace and the four spires of the royal palace.
"Does this by any chance refer to the royal palace?"
"These things are rotting away, they are rotting away really hard."
He continued what he was doing, muttering.
"It's full of devils. It's dirty and disgusting."
Millea felt that Nostrum was insulting Julian and grabbed Bridget by the collar.
Ever since she was attacked with cow dung, Millea had decided that she would never be able to have a normal conversation with Nostrum.
"Let's go somewhere else, Bridget. We have a lot of people to meet today."
There were many prophets.
There was no need to convince Nostrum, who was not very communicative.
But Bridget thought that Nostrum knew about their visit in advance and was acting like that.
She felt like he had something to tell her.
"Just a moment. Millea."
Bridget also guessed that the devil Nostram was talking about was Julian.
"Are you saying the devil is dirty?"
"They are dirty."
"Are you guys?"
Bridget pointed out sharply.
Aren't you talking about Julian?
"Those dirty guys. They're squirming. They're really vile guys."
Nostrum suddenly lay down straight in the middle of the hut.
And then he started sobbing and crying in pain.
"Ugh! Ugh!"
He seemed like someone who was acting.
He placed a basket full of cow dung on his stomach and rolled it in the palm of his hand.
He formed them into round lumps and threw them around.
"Eat this, you filthy creatures! Eat this and be quiet! Be quiet!"
Bridget also hesitated at the bizarre sight.
"Old man, what the heck... Could you please explain it in a way that I can understand?"
But Nostrum pleaded with her as if he couldn't hear her.
"Help me... Oh, cleanser."
"Come on, Bridget."
Millea dragged Bridget away as if she couldn't stand it any longer.
Bridget also turned around, speechless at Nostram's madness.
Bridget looked back at Nostram several times before the carriage set off.
As the carriage pulled away, Nostrum's face suddenly filled with joy.
"I have waited for you all my life, you have returned. May enlightenment be with you."
Nostrum's hearty laughter filled the alley.
***
"I really can't understand the prophet."
Millea lifted the hem of her skirt to check for any dirt.
I pondered what Nostram had said.
'It seemed like he knew about my purifying powers.'
It was clear that the palace being dirty meant it was contaminated with magi.
The palace was now a huge swamp of magi.
I had inferred Nostrum's words and actions up to that point, but I couldn't understand anything beyond that.
"Still, it was clear that he was a prophet."
"Did you see that? To me, he just looked like a delirious old man. Now I understand why people avoid him."
I agreed with that..
Throwing cow dung at Millea. What a bother.
"Who will we meet next?"
"She is the daughter of Count Dracian."
I had heard that name too.
Seraphina Drasian. She was a visionary who could not see the future.
Seraphina was very famous until a few years ago.
Whenever she appeared at a social gathering, her words and actions were inevitably mentioned in the gossip press.
But she suddenly disappeared about six years ago.
"I heard that Miss Seraphina lost her power of prophecy and went somewhere forever. How can we meet?"
Millea smiled meaningfully.
"She called us."
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