Chapter Twelve: The Butterfly That Flutters Its Wings (Part One)

With the support of the crowd, Warlenheit walked out of the grand hall. Outside, citizens still surrounded the building, unwilling to disperse, calling his name at the top of their lungs. The assassination attempt by Wei Wuji had elevated his reputation to new heights; the people had witnessed the event with their own eyes, watching as the assassin soared into the sky and fled, even as hundreds of guns fired at him.

The merchants who had long demanded the republic's government reduce the military budget could now say nothing. Ordinary citizens, meanwhile, were actively debating how best to support the government in strengthening national defense. The incident had frightened everyone. Many connected the assassination to the imminent arrival of the papal envoy. Some argued it could not possibly be the work of the Church—after all, to stage an assassination at this time would be to sully their own name, and surely the Church was not so foolish. Yet more people insisted the Church was behind it; given their history of domineering conduct, this was entirely in character—a warning to Warlenheit, a warning to all of Randia.

Because Warlenheit was unharmed and the assassin had demonstrated extraordinary skill, a few devout followers of the Church stepped forward to claim it was all a conspiracy—a play written and performed by the Liberty Party to smear the Church. These few were promptly beaten by several young people who had witnessed the whole scene in the auditorium. The church followers were tied up and paraded through the streets, beaten and rebuked for their ridiculous arguments. The youths pointed out that if not for the timely intervention of the young sorceresses from the Women's Academy of Magic and the courage of three guards who risked their lives to restrain the assailant, the esteemed Prime Minister would have perished.

Warlenheit boarded the carriage. The Special Brigade charged with his security had, by all accounts, lost face this day—allowing Wei Wuji to escape alive. So many guns had fired, yet it seemed less like an attack and more like a ceremonial farewell. The poor commander still shook his head in disbelief, unwilling to accept what had happened, and dreading the dismissal that would come tomorrow.

But Warlenheit had no time to attend to him now. The events of the day had taken him completely by surprise. He had rehearsed beforehand, even practiced how to move and what emotions and words would best sway the people—but never had he considered hiring an assassin to garner sympathy.

He could swear on his own name, with a clear conscience, that he had never for one second contemplated such a desperate ruse, nor had anyone involved ever broached such a tactic. The scene on stage had seemed perilous enough—the table and even the floor splintered—yet Warlenheit was certain the assassin had not truly intended to kill him. That was why he took the risk and chose not to reveal his own strength. Rather than an assassination, it felt more like intimidation. Or perhaps the Church really was foolish enough to send a formidable figure merely to issue a warning? If so, Warlenheit felt the architect of this plan deserved Randia’s Iron Cross—such a move was, perversely, brilliant.

“Summon all cabinet members for a meeting before the papal envoy arrives. We will draft a new supplementary budget. Funding will come from increased taxes, the treasury, and voluntary citizen donations. Seventy percent of the budget will be devoted to the army and research related to warfare; the remaining thirty percent will be split between the navy and maritime trade. Also, arrange a meeting with Senator Kidd and inform him it is of utmost importance—the future of Randia is at stake.”

The Secretary of State dutifully recorded every word of the Prime Minister and relayed the instructions to the appropriate officials, ensuring swift execution.

The carriage slowly pulled away from the scene. The crowd still refused to disperse. Though exhausted, Warlenheit leaned from the carriage window and waved, saying, “Trust me. Trust in the republic’s government. We will not betray the faith of our citizens. I am not leaving you—I am simply going to do something even more important.”

——

No one noticed the pale-faced young man crouching in the street, clutching his head, in the district of Valencia infamously known as the Mistress’s Quarter. In the entire city, apart from Wei Wuji, Amango understood the situation best. Earlier, agitated and unsettled, he had carelessly provided Wei Wuji with information, believing the man only intended to stir up some commotion.

The young man was terrified. Fortunately, he was no longer the Amango he’d been before boarding the Celeste. Otherwise, he’d have been cowering under his blanket at home rather than sitting on the cold ground holding his head. Heaven bear witness—he was no accomplice. Yet Wei Wuji had caused such an uproar, not only attempting to assassinate the Prime Minister but also fighting his way out single-handedly, escaping nearly five hundred muskets! He should have remembered that this man had already shown his audacity before—the mermaid princess of the Western Feshi Empire had been captured by him and brought aboard the Celeste, turning pirates into his escort squadron.

That night, the young man was destined to pass sleepless hours in anxiety, not so much for himself as for Sisley and Wei Wuji.

He could never have imagined that his own love would ignite the fuse that set all this in motion. Such unpredictable consequences were as unbelievable as a butterfly flapping its wings across the ocean and starting a storm.

——

In the quiet room sat three people. The furnishings were simple and practical: a large desk and chair for work, two chairs for guests opposite the desk, a side table, a wardrobe with a pane of glass set into it for a mirror, and a coat rack in the corner. Glass had only recently been invented and was all the rage among the upper echelons of society; with it, people now made mirrors to straighten their attire, and its use had spread widely in navigation. Previously, mariners’ spyglasses had to be crafted from finely polished jade, but the advent of glass had drastically reduced manufacturing costs and indirectly boosted the shipping industry.

The host spoke first—a fair-skinned man with hawk-like eyes, a prominent nose, and blue irises. “I am very pleased to meet you, Bishop, and Sir Lind. On behalf of the Democrats and all the people of Randia, I welcome you.”

The guest in clerical garb smiled. “I am equally delighted to meet Senator Kidd. I was told that you are Randia’s only hope. Thus, before I formally meet your Prime Minister, I decided to take a small risk and see you first.” Sir Lind, who had accompanied him, sat quietly in another chair.

The fair-skinned man appeared a little surprised. “Someone in the Church praised me so highly?”

“Not the Church,” Sir Lind answered on the bishop’s behalf. “It was Andre, the Chancellor of the Exchequer of Broomflower. The Bishop and I visited Broomflower before coming from the Great Cathedral.”

“So you visited Broomflower,” Kidd murmured, deep in thought. “Then perhaps now Bishop Child can tell me the purpose of your visit?”

Bishop Child removed his clerical hood, a hint of a smile appearing on his gaunt face. “Respected Senator Kidd, before I state my purpose, I very much wish to know—what is the difference between your party, the Democrats, and the Liberty Party in terms of democracy and liberty?”

Kidd’s eyes lit up—he had not expected the bishop to ask such a question. After a moment’s reflection, he replied, “You want to know how we differ from the Prime Minister’s party. Simply put, it is a matter of emphasis. Democracy and liberty are inseparable, yet the Prime Minister’s faction believes all are born equal and that citizens should enjoy every freedom, while we Democrats are a bit more conservative, holding that some traditions and old orders deserve respect.”

“I am very pleased to hear you say so. It reassures me that I was right to come to you first,” Bishop Child replied, his breath growing ever so slightly heavier.

“In that case, may I ask you to state your purpose now?” Kidd responded with a gentle smile.