Chapter 65: The Royal Power Struggle (3)

The second prince suddenly appeared, claiming to be the first prince. Most people would assume that Alford had lost his mind. But for those well-versed in necromancy, there was another possible explanation.

Karnak frowned. "Have your souls been swapped?"

Alford—or rather, Lloyd, the soul occupying Alford's body—looked surprised. "Is that something that’s so easy to accept? That’s... well, yes.”

"There are necromantic techniques capable of such feats," Karnak replied. "Though the conditions are exceedingly specific."

The prince let out a relieved sigh. "It seems I chose the right people."

This was precisely why he had contacted the King’s Order. While there were stronger mages in Eustil, none were as experienced in dealing with necromancy as those in the King’s Order. Why? Because before the advent of the Shadow of Doom, there was no need to specialize in necromantic countermeasures. Necromancers were rare, and their techniques even rarer.

If anyone could discern the magic cast upon him, it would be a mage from the King’s Order. Lloyd turned to Karnak. "Would other mages, not of the King’s Order, be able to recognize this as easily as you?"

If so, he might contact other mages loyal to him.

But Karnak shook his head. "There’s a misunderstanding. It wasn’t some magical insight that allowed me to discern your condition."

In truth, he’d known immediately.

Huh, wrong soul in that body.

But he decided to feign ignorance.

The soul-swapping spell affecting Lloyd was an advanced form of necromancy. It was so subtle that even another necromancer wouldn’t detect it unless they were the caster. Karnak only noticed because of his unique expertise. Normally, no one else could have noticed.

Better to pretend I didn’t see anything either.

Feigning nonchalance, he continued, "Simply, if your explanation is true, it would make sense that your souls were switched. For all I know, Prince Alford could be deceiving us by pretending to be Prince Lloyd."

Most others in the King’s Order would have likely come to the same conclusion. Lloyd frowned. "So, you don’t completely believe me?"

"Not necessarily. Based on the circumstances, it’s highly likely you are Prince Lloyd.”

"What makes you say that?"

Karnak inwardly sighed.

I know the answer, but I can’t just say it outright.

Still, he couldn’t reveal the truth, so he improvised. "Commander Erantel trusted your letter. If he believes you’re the first prince, he must have his reasons."

"And what if I deceived even Sir Erantel? Alford could have intercepted my letter and forged it."

"Your responses only further confirm you’re Prince Lloyd."

"Why?"

"If you were Prince Alford pretending to be Prince Lloyd, you wouldn’t have phrased it that way.”

He had unconsciously referred to the letter as something belonging to himself. If his identity were truly Prince Alford, he’d have phrased it differently.

"Ah... I-I see."

Lloyd’s expression softened, the tension easing from his face.

Karnak pressed on, testing the waters. "Even your reactions confirm it, Your Highness.”

"My reactions?"

"You’ve been questioning why we don’t doubt you, haven’t you?”

If he were Prince Alford pretending to be Prince Lloyd, there’d be no reason for him to push them to suspect you.

"If I were trying to remove suspicion, I might do just that... no, wait. You’re right. That would be counterproductive."

"And there’s little benefit in doing so."

"Little benefit?"

"Think about it. Why would Prince Alford frame himself, claim to be Prince Lloyd, and accuse his own faction of necromancy? What could he possibly gain from such a convoluted scheme? Sure, it’s possible he has some unfathomable plan, but..."

While such an elaborate scheme wasn’t impossible, it was unlikely. Even the most complex plans usually had a discernible logic. Given all the evidence, the soul-swap theory was the most plausible explanation.

"That’s my conclusion," Karnak said confidently.

Lloyd’s face brightened. He appeared visibly relieved.

"Thank goodness. I’m fortunate to have found someone as wise as you."

Varos and Serati exchanged a sidelong glance, barely holding back their scoffs.

[

Wise

? Really?]

[He’s just piecing together answers he already knows.]

[Oi, both of you, at least try to keep a straight face.]

Regardless, Lloyd now regarded Karnak as a wise, quick-witted, and reliable mage, and Karnak had no intention of correcting the mistake.

The prince cautiously asked, "Are you saying that, as things stand, there’s no magical way to prove our souls have been swapped?"

"Not to my knowledge," Karnak replied. "Although, perhaps the archmages of the tower might know otherwise."

There was, in fact, a way. However, it required extensive preparation, rare catalysts, and an advanced understanding of magic.

At the current level of Eustil’s magic tower, I doubt anyone could pull it off.

Lloyd nodded in understanding. "Well, if such a thing were easy to detect, Alford wouldn’t have dared to attempt it in the first place."

His expression darkened with concern. "So, what now? Truthfully, I sought out the King’s Order hoping its mages could prove my identity..."

"Let’s start by hearing the details," Karnak suggested, motioning for Lloyd to sit.

The group gathered around the worn table in the room. Karnak leaned forward. "Tell us exactly what happened."

"I wish I knew," Lloyd began. "I went to bed as usual and woke up as Alford."

"I need more specifics," Karnak urged. "Even something you’re unaware of might provide a clue."

"You’re right," Lloyd conceded, taking a deep breath. “It was five days ago...”

***

According to Lloyd, it had been an entirely ordinary day.

"That day, like every other, I finished my duties, received divine healing from the priest, and retired to bed."

Varos interjected, frowning. "...You receive holy healing every day?"

Lloyd let out a dry laugh. "You must have heard the rumors about my frailty."

"Still, every single day?" Varos murmured, stunned.

This wasn’t mere frailty. He was literally a breathing zombie.

Noticing their reactions, Lloyd shrugged nonchalantly. "It’s no wonder my father places his hopes on Alford. Anyway, until I fell asleep, there was nothing unusual."

Karnak probed further. "Was there anything out of place? An unfamiliar object in your room? A stranger near your quarters?"

"On that, I can be certain," Lloyd replied firmly.

Even without the threat of necromancy, Lloyd was always vigilant about his chambers’ security. His rivalry with Alford meant he lived in constant fear of poisoning or worse.

"Not only is my chamber well-guarded, but the entire palace is protected by powerful magical and holy barriers. That’s why this is so baffling. Is necromancy truly so powerful?"

"I admit, even I find this hard to grasp," Karnak replied.

Serati secretly asked Karnak.

[So what’s really going on?]

[I don’t know. Honestly, I’m stumped.]

[Wait, you’re not pretending to be clueless?]

[Necromancy isn’t omnipotent. A spell of this magnitude would require extensive preparation.]

Casting such a spell remotely, bypassing all the protections of a royal palace?

[If that were possible, I wouldn’t have gone through half the trouble I did in my past life.]

[And how would I know what you suffered through in your past life?]

[I’m making a point.]

Ignoring Serati’s snark, Karnak sank into thought. The incident at Trist City from months ago crossed his mind.

Hmm, wait a minute. Is this another technique I don’t know about?

Lloyd’s voice broke through his contemplation. "...And so, I fell asleep. When I woke, everything around me had changed."

***

When Lloyd opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was how strange his body felt.

What’s this? Why do I feel so good?

The usual throbbing headache that greeted him every morning was absent. The constant fever that tormented him had vanished. Even his stiff, creaky joints moved smoothly, almost too comfortably. Puzzled, Lloyd tried to sit up. Then he froze.

What?

His entire body was bound tightly with ropes, preventing him from rising naturally. Alarmed, he quickly assessed his condition—and froze again.

Whose arm is this?

The muscular, well-defined forearm before him belonged to someone else entirely. It was strong, masculine. In fact, nothing like his own frail, almost delicate arms that could easily be mistaken for a young maiden’s. But this wasn’t the time to focus on his arms.

Where am I?

He distinctly remembered falling asleep in his own bed, in his own chambers. But now, he had woken up in an unknown place.

Heart racing, Lloyd scanned his surroundings. It was a small stone chamber, dim and plain, devoid of any furniture. A red magic circle, glowing faintly under magical lighting, was inscribed on the floor, and he was sitting right in its center. Beyond the circle stood three men in black robes, their faces hidden.

One of them spoke, his voice oily and mocking. “Ah, have you awoken, Prince Lloyd?”

Though his words were polite, his tone dripped with derision.

Lloyd forced himself to remain calm and regarded the strangers with a steady gaze.

“An unfamiliar place, filled with unfamiliar people.”

The situation was undeniably shocking, but showing panic would gain him nothing.

“You have some impressive skills,” he continued, his voice steady but sharp. “Kidnapping a prince from the depths of the royal palace, no less.”

He looked over his body exaggeratedly and continued, “And I see you’ve done something to my body as well. My arms were never this thick, nor my frame so robust.”

At his remark, one of the other men clicked his tongue. “You are so composed. I had expected at least some sign of distress.”

Lloyd’s eyes turned cold as he asked, “Yes, so what exactly have you done to me?”

One of the men waved his hand in the air. “Allow me to show you.”

A magical mirror materialized in midair, reflecting Lloyd’s current appearance. As he stared at the image, his face paled.

“Alford?”

For a moment, he thought his younger brother was sitting there. But the ropes binding the body, the expression staring back at him said otherwise. It all clicked.

The

Alford

he was seeing... was himself.

Even with his composed nature, Lloyd was momentarily struck speechless.

The robed man broke the silence, his voice dripping with dark amusement. “We’ve switched your body with Prince Alford. A feat made possible through the great power of Tesranach. Hahaha...”

Lloyd’s eyes widened as the weight of that name sank in.

Tesranach.

He had heard of it before.

His voice trembled, not with fear, but with cold fury. “Cultists.”

***

Hmm? Something feels off.

Listening to the story, Serati couldn’t help but furrow her brow.

Why would they go out of their way to create a magical mirror to show the prince his current appearance? And why reveal their entire plan without being prompted?

Are all necromancers this chatty?