Faced with such a demand, what could Brenda possibly do? She had already spent all the money before — if she didn't want her earlier investment to go to waste, there was no choice but to add more gold.
However, when she received another message from the Assassin Brotherhood just two days later asking for yet another raise in payment, Brenda finally began to lose her composure.
At this point, she felt as if she were being scammed.
But after considering the Brotherhood's long-standing reputation, she gritted her teeth and agreed again.
Still, before long, the Brotherhood contacted her yet again, this time demanding a sum so outrageous that even she couldn't easily produce it.
"You want to raise it to one hundred thousand gold coins? Are you insane, or do you think I'm some kind of fool?"
This time, Brenda couldn't hold it in any longer. She pointed at the man in front of her and cursed him right to his face.
The assassin on the other side merely sighed helplessly and said,
"We can't help it. We've already sent three third-tier assassins one after another, but they all failed. Normally, for a target like this, we would have abandoned the contract rather than send more men to die.
However, we have confirmed intelligence that Heim currently has a third-tier peak knight stationed there. During one of our earlier attempts, that knight was severely wounded.
So, to be safe, this time we plan to send three third-tier experts together to ensure success. Naturally, that raises the cost."
"Fine. I'll trust you one more time."
Brenda clenched her teeth and agreed.
But pulling together one hundred thousand gold coins meant the reconstruction of Mandrake City would be delayed for quite some time.
At this point, though, Brenda's hatred had already clouded her judgment. Ever since she'd slaughtered all those who had hurt her brother, her rage had nowhere left to go — so it turned toward Hel, who had survived the recent catastrophe.
As long as Hel died, she didn't care what price she had to pay.
But shortly after she dismissed the assassins, the door to the reception room opened again.
"I heard from your butler that you plan to raise Hel's bounty again?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
Seeing the Third Princess walk in, Brenda — despite her exhaustion — still rose to her feet and bowed respectfully.
The princess waved her hand, gesturing for Brenda to sit down again.
"How much this time?"
"One hundred thousand gold coins."
"One hundred thousand? That's the price of a fourth-tier target. Don't tell me Hel has a fourth-tier protector under him?"
Hearing that, the princess's face darkened slightly.
Hel was just an ordinary count — it was impossible for him to have hired a fourth-tier expert. If one had appeared by his side, that could only mean one thing:
One of her royal brothers might have secretly invested in him.
She never believed that placing Brenda in charge of the Mandrake territory meant she fully controlled it.
As long as the Third Prince and Hel remained alive, Brenda could never sit securely on her ducal throne.
Even if they couldn't overthrow her outright, with her brothers' backing, they could easily drag her down.
After Brenda's explanation, however, the princess finally let out a small sigh of relief.
A third-tier expert was still unlikely for a mere count, but not impossible — meaning Hel probably wasn't connected to her brothers after all.
Still, to be sure, the princess decided to share her next idea.
"I've received news that Father Gerhard, who recently returned from Heim's territory, was found dead in the Church. The cause was chronic poisoning.
While I don't think Hel had anything to do with it, not everyone will see it that way."
"Your Highness means… Father Gerhard's brother, Father Olard?"
"Exactly."
The Third Princess nodded in confirmation.
"Don't be fooled by his friendly manner and efficiency. Those are just a mask. In truth, he's arrogant — and ambitious.
Once he sets his mind on something, no amount of evidence can change it.
From what my people tell me, if not for the ongoing issue of the bishop's succession, Olard would have already gone to Heim City himself to deal with Hel.
What we need to do is help him become bishop.
That way, we'll not only gain a powerful ally, but we can also let him test Hel's strength for us."
"A brilliant plan, Your Highness. Olard is a fourth-tier peak expert — more than enough to eliminate Hel."
Brenda nodded in agreement, admiring the princess's cunning.
Yet, despite her confident tone, the princess felt a faint unease.
Having Olard take action was risky — but if Hel really did have royal backing, then Olard's move would force the truth into the open.
Once she discovered which of her brothers was meddling in Mandrake affairs, she could take direct measures to counter them.
After thinking for a moment, Brenda hesitated and asked,
"Your Highness, the old bishop is still alive, isn't he? Even if he was gravely injured during the great calamity, he wouldn't die so easily, would he?"
"No," the princess said, smiling faintly as she gazed out the window. "He will die."
After a long pause, she continued quietly:
"Olard poisoned the old bishop long ago, and the recent disaster merely triggered the poison fully.
The old man is barely hanging on now. The moment his last breath fades, he'll be gone.
Normally, it might've taken a few more months for him to die naturally — but since Hel's matter has come up, he'll have to die sooner."
"Your Highness means…"
"I recall that the old bishop has a young grandson in the capital. If my calculations are correct, that boy's head should reach the bishop in a few days."
Hearing that, even Brenda — ruthless as she was — felt a chill crawl over her body.
She couldn't imagine that someone as sweet and beautiful as the Third Princess could be so decisive…
and so merciless.
The Snow Velvet Principality — Capital.
After the great calamity, the royal capital had become a vast basin filled with black sludge — the source of the filth that covered half the entire principality.
Yet unlike other regions drowned in corruption, no demons roamed here.
It was as if this place had become forbidden ground, a domain even demons feared to approach.
Deep beneath the dark pool, a mass of flesh, as large as a man, pulsed rhythmically — not like an inert lump, but like a living heart.
From afar, though, it looked less like a heart and more like a gigantic egg, its surface made entirely of blood and flesh.
Then suddenly, from within the surrounding black mire, a pair of crimson eyes snapped open, staring at the grotesque egg with wary curiosity.