"Magic Mirror, Magic Mirror, who is the most beautiful woman in the world?"
This is a classic scene from Roselle's fairy tales.
After that story spread, owning a magical mirror that could answer any question became a dream for many people.
Arrodes, was just such a mirror.
Of course, it was a little different from the fairy-tale version.
It abided by the principle of equivalence: when you asked it a question, it would ask you one in return. And following the rule of honesty, if you lied, you would face punishment.
It sounded fair. Well, only sounded fair.
When the members of the Machinery Hivemind carried in that ancient silver mirror, with strange engravings and a pair of black gemstones on each side like eyes,
Max Livermore, who had been uneasy the whole time, wore a bitter smile. In the end, he gritted his teeth and forced himself to stand before the mirror.
Arrodes, Sealed Artifact 2-111.
It possessed an extraordinary intelligence, capable of drawing insight and information from the spirit world to answer its holder's questions. In turn, it would also demand one answer from them.
"Respected Arrodes, my question is: Who sneaked into the Roselle Memorial Exhibition last night and stole a bookmark?"
Max Livermore steadied his nerves and finally asked his first question.
The mirror's surface rippled with light, like waves across water. Soon, an image appeared within it, a sky full of twinkling stars.
Nothing else.
What kind of answer was that?
Max Livermore stared blankly, confused. His team members beside him were just as puzzled, and even the silent archbishop standing nearby showed a hint of surprise.
Before Max could make sense of it, a few lines of ancient Feysac words appeared on the mirror:
"According to the principle of equivalence, it is my turn to ask."
"If you answer incorrectly, or lie, you will be punished."
The word "punished" appeared in a blood-red hue, with crimson droplets seeming to drip down the glass.
Max's face twitched, then grew solemn.
The ripples shimmered again, and new words formed:
"Do you like women much older than you?"
Max froze. His teammates cast him curious looks.
Finally, with stiff movements, he nodded. "Yes."
Just when he thought it was over, the archbishop beside him called him away, whispered a few instructions, and sent him back to the mirror.
He took a deep breath, looking as if he were walking to his death, and touched the mirror's surface three times.
After a pause, he spoke gravely: "Respected Arrodes, my question is, Is the intruder from last night still within Backlund?"
"Yes."
A short answer, but it made Max's heart tighten again.
Soon, more words appeared on the mirror:
"Which part of your lover's body do you like the most?"
"..."
After a brief silence, Max's face flushed scarlet. "...Her toes."
This time, his teammates turned their faces away, probably to hide their barely suppressed laughter.
At this point, Max gave up pretending to be composed. He asked his third question: "Who are the Followers of the Stars?"
The mirror shimmered again, showing a stretch of ocean, a glimpse of a ship's hull, and then the image was swallowed by a vast starry sky.
No one noticed that the mirror's glow had dimmed significantly.
"Where did you spend the night before last?"
Max froze completely. Every member of the Machinery Hivemind nearby turned toward him. Because their captain… was married.
....
The gray skies of Backlund, no matter how bright the sun shone, could never pierce the heavy smog. Only in a few thin patches could sunlight touch the ground.
Hastur sat on the balcony, enjoying the breeze while flipping through a stack of documents.
They were investment project reports that Butler Neil had gathered.
He intended to choose suitable industries to invest in.
After scanning them all, he circled the ones he found promising.
To ensure he wouldn't lose money, he planned to verify each project one by one, by visiting the Hall of Stars and using his divination of fate to glimpse their future prospects.
Of course, even the best project couldn't guarantee success.
Sometimes, the problem lay in the people running it.
Once he finished marking them, Hastur set the papers aside, took a sip of fruit juice, and began pondering how to bribe Count Hall.
As for Duke Negan, after the Qilangos incident, that side was already secure.
Now came the turn of Count Hall, another noble who held real power.
According to the dossier from Greg, Count Hall was upright and principled, never once accepting bribes of gold or silver.
A perfect, hexagonal "shield" with no weak points.
But no one is truly perfect, not even someone as outstanding as Count Hall.
He loved hunting, especially in autumn, when he would retreat to his countryside estate with a party of men to chase wild game through the forests.
He spared no expense on fine hounds, Susie, for instance, had once been given to him as a "gift."
That was a hobby that could be exploited, a weakness that could be used.
Some officials didn't care for money. In such cases, one had to appeal to their interests.
If they liked antiques, gift them antiques. If they liked calligraphy, gift them paintings, under the guise of "asking for their expert opinion."
Aside from that, Greg had suggested another approach, pursue Audrey and become Count Hall's son-in-law.
That way, his path to a title would be guaranteed, the father-in-law would surely lend a helping hand.
Hastur dismissed that idea outright. He preferred to take advantage of the Count's love for hunting instead.
"If I can find a hound better than the ones Count Hall owns, I'll definitely catch his attention. Then, giving it to him as a gift should count as a successful bribe."
"But a good hound costs tens of thousands of pounds… that's way too expensive."
After some thought, Hastur made up his mind. If he couldn't find one, he would train one himself. It would also help Glaint digest his Beast Tamer potion.
Around three in the afternoon, Hastur went to Glaint's home and invited him to pick out some potential animals together.
Glaint laughed. "Hastur, even if you hadn't come, I was planning to find you! I just learned of a group selling excellent pets, high quality, low price."
"Something that good?"
"Heh, those guys used some shady means to get them. My friend caught them, so we can swoop in and grab the leftovers."
....
When they arrived, Hastur finally understood what Glaint meant by "grabbing leftovers."
It was black eating black.
Those pet dealers had stolen fine-bred young animals from other regions, smuggled them into Backlund, and sold them at exorbitant prices to local nobles.
This time, luck wasn't on their side, they were robbed by a local gang, who took all the animals, counting on the smugglers not daring to report it.
And even if they did, Glaint's friend could bail them out and make the problem disappear.
"Glaint, so this is the Baron Campbell you keep talking about? He looks even younger and handsomer than you described."
That was Baron Bull, Glaint's friend, he looked just over twenty, short and plump, dressed in flashy clothes, a gleaming gold watch on his wrist, and two servants behind him, each holding a leash.
Two fierce dogs stood at their feet, black-haired and glossy, with only a bit of tan fur below their knees. Their sharp eyes gleamed with menace, teeth bared at the cages full of frightened animal cubs.
Now and then, they growled lowly, making the young animals shrink and tremble.
They were clearly this world's Rottweilers.
"You're Glaint's friend, then you're my friend too. You can pick any of these cubs you like today. I'll make sure you get a fair price."
"Then I won't stand on ceremony," Glaint said eagerly, already starting to browse.
Hastur followed him, quietly observing the young animals.
In choosing pets, Glaint was an expert. All Hastur had to do was pick from the ones Glaint selected.
His requirements were high, he wanted a dog with true potential as a hunting hound, so he entrusted the main choice to Glaint.
After a while, Hastur drifted away from the dog section and walked to the area with cats.
There were far fewer cages here, barely twenty in total.
Not many, just enough for Hastur to inspect them one by one.
He looked first at their eyes and fur, then their overall build, and finally their temperament.
In this area, he was still a novice, relying mostly on instinct and feeling.