Slowe approached the door to Connerivis's room, noting the "Do Not Disturb" sign hanging on the handle. Without hesitation, he pushed the door open and entered.
"Professor Slowe?" Conner was seated by the fireplace in a robe, deeply engrossed in a poetry collection. The book's title suggested it was a work of high literature.
Slowe took the seat beside him. "We should be back in your territory within an hour."
"Oh, wonderful, thank you for your assistance." Conner kept his eyes fixed on the poetry, seemingly captivated. After a moment, he processed the words. "Wait, an hour? Are you planning to fly me back? If anyone spots us, tomorrow's headlines in every Imperial paper will read: 'Nightmare Duke Abuses Authority, Forces Army Commander to Fly Him Across Flynn County, Seriously Disrupting Military Efficiency! Experts Urge Emperor to Regulate Noble Behavior!'"
Conner rattled off the statement in one breath, not pausing once. Slowe winced, his ears clearly suffering. "No, I intend to redirect the canal into Flynn County. Do you understand? Right now, it runs north to south. I'll create a branch running east to west."
Creating waterways was typically a collaborative effort among military magisters, but Slowe spoke as though he could manage it single-handedly.
"You want to ruin my canal?!" Conner nearly leapt from his seat, slamming the poetry book shut. His fury was palpable. "Don't even think about it! Do you realize how much public ire I've endured because of that canal? If you mess with it now and anything goes wrong, I swear I won't forgive you!"
"First, I can ensure no harm comes to the main canal. Second, your reputation was already in shambles long before this canal was constructed. It won't get any worse." Slowe stated the facts plainly, adjusting his glasses. "Besides the timing of our return, there's something else I need to discuss with you."
"Fine, as long as you guarantee the canal remains intact…" Conner agreed begrudgingly, still visibly displeased. "But what if someone witnesses the excavation?"
"No one knows you're on this ship. Remember, you're supposed to be recuperating at your estate!" Slowe's voice sharpened, betraying a hint of exasperation. "Everyone will assume that during your recovery, you issued one of your foolish orders—like demanding the canal be extended to your castle so you could enjoy the view from your window. Then, the Nightmare Magisters, aboard their luxury vessel, dutifully carved the canal right to your doorstep!"
"Well, that would be a truly idiotic order." Conner reopened his poetry book, seemingly seeking solace in its verses.
Slowe exhaled deeply, quickly regaining his usual calm demeanor. "I'm abdicating."
"Oh, wonderful, thank you—wait, what did you just say?!" Conner flung the poetry book to the ground and sprang to his feet. "Alright, I'm sorry! I shouldn't have snuck out to inspect the canal. I shouldn't have withheld information when the incident occurred. I shouldn't have doubted your expertise in waterway engineering…"
"I accept your apology." Slowe leaned back, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead in a gesture of weariness. "Duke, this incident has been a lesson—for both of us."
"If you wish to inspect the canal, you can contact the Nightmare Corps directly. I will assign someone trustworthy to accompany you. If you encounter trouble, even if it's something as minor as a cockroach, I expect you to send a distress signal immediately rather than conceal it to avoid my lectures. As for me, I should have installed monitoring magic formations in your bedroom long ago. I've trusted you too much, whereas your trust in me has been lacking."
"Slowe, it's not that I don't trust you. You're my closest ally, my most reliable companion," Conner tried to explain.
"Thank you for your trust," Slowe cut him off before he could continue his sentimentality. "I'm stepping down."
Conner finally realized Slowe was serious. In disbelief, he exclaimed, "You're in your prime! This is the time to rise! You're the Chief Strategist of the Nightmare Corps. In ten or twenty years, I could elevate you to the very top of Pranman's government! The entire world would tremble before you! We've worked together for so long, and now, without warning, you're telling me you're stepping down?!"
"Yes, I am stepping down," Slowe said calmly, his gaze unwavering. "Duke, the Nightmare Corps was organized by the first Nightmare Archduke, but it is not your private army. You've exercised unchecked power for too long."
Conner's fiery expression cooled instantly. He picked up his poetry book from the floor and sank back into his sofa, as though nothing had happened.
Slowe was accustomed to such mercurial moods and said nothing more.
Politicians are like that. Their anger can ignite like wildfire, but it extinguishes just as quickly. Whether or not Slowe genuinely intended to step down, the Nightmare Duke, as his superior, was obliged to put on a show of trying to retain him. The more impassioned the Duke's plea, the stronger the impression of their close relationship. The Duke performed this role masterfully—he was a natural actor who never let his mask slip.
Slowe accepted Conner's polished theatrics but had no desire to play along in the tired drama of one person begging the other to stay. His words were blunt and unvarnished, yet they carried genuine conviction.
"Duke, the Nightmare Corps belongs to the entire Empire," Slowe said with a sigh. "I'm already heavily marked by factional alignments. It's impossible for me to remain in this position for long. Has the Empire's probing lessened since you claimed illness? Has His Majesty returned the young Duke to Flynn County? Has your Duchess ceased sending reports to her family?"
"No," Slowe continued before Conner could respond. "Duke, whether you're ill or dead, as long as the Nightmare Corps bears your mark, the royal family will continue making life difficult for Flynn County. You need to relinquish control to gain even more in return."
"Without military power, there's nothing," Conner said coldly. "That's the one thing I cannot yield."
"Your military power extends far beyond the Nightmare Corps," Slowe replied with a faint smile. "I will ensure everything within the Corps is arranged properly. Once I'm no longer tied to its affairs, I can assist you with other, more clandestine matters."
Conner understood Slowe's meaning. The plan to replace the Nightmare Corps' Chief Strategist was, in truth, a strategic withdrawal—a move to retreat from the spotlight while cultivating influence within the shadows of the military.
"We'll discuss the details further when we're back," Conner said, recognizing the complexity of the plan and its need for careful execution. "What will you do after stepping down?"
"Serve as your personal magical tutor?" Slowe joked casually.
Conner paused for a moment, looking far more relaxed than before. "I already have an entire battalion of magical advisors."
"But none as good as me," Slowe said confidently. "You wouldn't let me go unemployed, would you?"
Conner wasn't the least bit worried about Slowe being out of work. Slowe was highly sought after wherever he went. "You could take a position at the Royal Academy—you're already an honorary professor there," Conner suggested. Perhaps Slowe could scout some promising young talent while he was at it.
"Oh, about that…" Slowe seemed to recall something suddenly. "I already have a student."
"And how does that stop you from teaching at the academy?" Conner asked, puzzled. "And who is your student? Someone from the Nightmare Corps?"
"She's a genius, and teaching her might leave me with little time for other students," Slowe explained. He thought back to Amora's advanced grasp of magical theory, such as the nonlinear evolution of magical energy thresholds—a topic far beyond standard curriculum.
"A genius…" Conner seemed taken aback. He had never heard Slowe describe anyone else with such high praise. "Did you just say 'genius'?"
"Yes. A rare blend of innate talent and diligence," Slowe clarified. "She has strong abilities, a wide range of knowledge, and a deep curiosity. However, her foundations might be a little shaky. I see her as highly moldable material."
"I can't wait to know her name," Conner said earnestly. Slowe was one of his most trusted allies, and his student would naturally be a future asset.
"Uh…" Slowe hesitated. He realized that Menger had never told him the girl's name.
"Uh what?" Conner pressed, assuming he misheard.
"Ernel," Slowe quickly fabricated a name.
"I thought you said it was a girl?" Conner noted, raising an eyebrow. "That's a man's name."
Slowe, unfazed, nodded calmly. "Yes, the girl you brought aboard earlier."
Conner gave him a long, incredulous stare. "You've known her for less than an hour."
"That's not an issue," Slowe replied, his demeanor steady. "An hour is enough to gauge someone's character."
"It's not an issue?" Conner began pacing around Slowe, his disbelief mounting. "The issue is she told me her name is Am."
Slowe remained unflustered. "You haven't known her long either. She might have given you a fake name."
"And Ernel isn't a fake name?" Conner shot back. "Am is at least a plausible name for a girl!"
"Am sounds like something made up on the spot. Ernel has distinctiveness—nobody fakes a name like that," Slowe argued logically. Indeed, few people would concoct such a peculiar and awkward male name. Little did he know, Amora had no idea Slowe would saddle her with such a bizarre alias.
Conner looked skeptical. "How is she doing?"
"Physically, not well. She needs immediate treatment when we land," Slowe replied. "I've stabilized her for now; she won't die anytime soon."
"No problem. My castle has at least a dozen royal physicians," Conner said confidently, proud of the healthcare his estate could provide. "Free treatment—it's an employee benefit."
"Thank you…" Slowe said with a resigned nod.
"So, are you officially a private tutor now?" Conner asked, still finding the transition hard to believe. The leap from a military strategist to a personal tutor was hard to reconcile.
"Yes…" Slowe confirmed with another nod.
"How about taking on my son as well?" Conner suggested, almost as if it were an afterthought. "If you're already teaching one, adding another won't make much difference."
"The young duke?" Slowe was momentarily surprised. The young duke had been studying at the Royal Academy and was based in the capital. The Emperor wouldn't easily allow him to return to Flynn County. Then the realization hit—Slowe's impending resignation from the Nightmare Corps would open the door for a power exchange. The Emperor might agree to the young duke's return as part of a political tradeoff.
"He's far from ready to inherit the title," Conner said with a bitter smile, clearly dissatisfied with his son.
After brief consideration, Slowe nodded. "That works. The Royal Academy might not be the best fit for him."
Instead of getting entangled in court intrigue and romantic escapades with princes and princesses at the academy, the young duke could return to be mentored by the former Chief Strategist of the Nightmare Corps. Slowe was not just a researcher of magical theory but, as Amora had guessed, a well-rounded scholar in politics and military strategy, having climbed the ranks of the military through sheer merit.
What Slowe could teach Amora would far exceed her expectations.