So, that eccentric old man who had just departed was truly the grandmaster of the Lich Court—the very department within the legendary Sarkaz Ten Royal Courts entrusted with the preservation of all knowledge, history, and arcane learning?
The fabled "Lich King," Fremont himself?
A sudden chill traveled down Clever's spine, causing her to shiver involuntarily.
When they had first set out, she had genuinely believed that simply crossing paths with a living, breathing member of the isolated Lich race would be the most shocking milestone of her entire journey. But reality had completely shattered her expectations. The person standing before them wasn't just some ordinary researcher who happened to possess a rare lineage; he was the absolute sovereign leader who held the ultimate authority over the entire Lich clan.
"Flandre, do you mean to say that the entire Lich race has been residing secretly within the borders of Leithanien all this time?"
As the realization settled into her thoughts, the pieces of a grand historical puzzle finally fell into place within Clever's mind. For centuries, scholars across Terra had marveled at the sheer speed and absolute depth with which magic-related theory and arts had flourished within Leithanien. Now, the underlying catalyst behind that rapid intellectual golden age was glaringly obvious.
It turned out that after choosing to sever ties with the fractured capital of Kazdel, the entire Lich Court had quietly migrated to this land, integrating themselves into the academic foundations of the country to serve as the hidden bedrock for Leithanien's peerless magical development.
One had to remember that the Liches effectively functioned as the living archives of the Sarkaz race, possessing an absolute monopoly over centuries of ancient incantations, lost rituals, and profound arcane dynamics. If the Liches had offered their vast repository of knowledge as the ultimate bargaining chip to buy their safety, combined with their natural, deeply ingrained preference for living in absolute academic seclusion, it was entirely feasible for them to hide in plain sight under the noses of the local authorities without ever being exposed to the wider world.
This was a discovery of staggering proportions. Clever fixed her wide eyes on Flandre, letting out a soft, staggered sigh as she reflected on how wildly unpredictable her life had become ever since she was accidentally caught up in the mansion's wake.
Not only had she brazenly strolled through the heavily fortified, Sarkaz-controlled streets of Londinium and stood within the same land as the Regent Theresis, but now she was actively receiving academic favors from the long-"vanished" Lich Court.
Her gaze drifted downward, locking onto the shimmering permission tokens currently resting in the hands of Remilia and Patchouli. She understood with absolute clarity that the "library" they were about to enter wasn't some conventional municipal archive built of mundane brick and mortar. It was a boundless hall of absolute knowledge woven directly out of the fabric of reality by the ancient, spatial mastery of the Liches.
Thinking of this, a tiny spark of envy kindled deep within her heart.
Back in the Riverside settlements where she grew up, she had only ever heard the older sisters whisper about that mythical repository in hushed, reverent tones. Long ago, before the Lich Court chose to pack up their archives and abandon Kazdel, the number of individuals granted permission to cross their thresholds was few and far between. And after their total disappearance from the global stage, the number of outsiders who had ever set foot inside had dwindled to absolute zero.
As for the rare few who did manage to deduce the true whereabouts of the Liches over the years, none possessed the slightest desire or strategic interest to expose the secret. This collective, protective silence was the exact reason why the Liches had been able to live in absolute peace within Leithanien for so many generations.
"Oh, and there's one more thing I should probably mention," Flandre added, her voice ringing out with casual cheerfulness as she skipped along the path. "That old grandpa happens to be a very close friend of Otto."
"Otto?"
For some reason, hearing the name uttered so casually, a vague, blurry image of a tall, blonde Bishop instinctively flickered across the surface of Clever's thoughts. Yet she couldn't help but feel the name itself was entirely too common. Why on earth would Flandre bring it up with such deliberate emphasis? Could an ordinary-sounding name like that actually belong to some legendary historical figure?
While Clever was silently puzzling over the mystery, Patchouli cast a quiet, knowing glance toward the young girl. Given her deep understanding of Flandre's unique perspective, the mere fact that the child had actively specified the name meant the individual in question had to be someone whose historical footprint was absolutely monumental.
Her brilliant mind instantly sifted through the massive catalog of Leithanien's historical records she had memorized over the years, and a single, formidable title immediately crystallized before her eyes—Otto Dietmar Gustav von Utika.
To the common citizens of the current era, that lengthy birth name might sound entirely unfamiliar, but his other formal title—the terrifying Emperor of Leithanien known to the world as the "Witch King"—was a name that still caused nations to tremble.
"The Witch King..." Patchouli murmured softly, the words causing Clever's pupils to contract to absolute pinpricks.
Following Patchouli's quiet revelation, a wave of cold realization washed over the young librarian. She suddenly remembered that within the borders of Leithanien, there existed a terrifying historical figure whose true name almost no living soul dared to utter aloud; that monstrous ruler's real name was indeed Otto.
The sovereign grandmaster of the Lich Court and the previous, nightmare-inducing Witch King were actually intimate, personal friends.
In a fraction of a second, a massive mountain of complex political conspiracies and dark historical plots began to swirl wildly through Clever's imagination.
"Of course, there's absolutely no need for you to worry about any of that," Flandre clarified, waving her hand dismissively to dispel the heavy tension. "The Witch King's later madness and his terrible decisions had absolutely nothing to do with the old grandpa. In fact, back when the Leithanien nobility pooled their military strength to launch that massive assassination attempt against the Witch King, if the old grandpa hadn't consciously chosen to stand aside and watch it happen, I'm afraid that with the pathetic capabilities of the Old Nobility, they wouldn't have even been able to breach the outer perimeter of the Witch King's spire."
Clever found herself instantly believing the child's narrative.
The sheer, terrifying magnitude of the Witch King's personal strength was explicitly detailed across every historical text surviving from that era. When the coordinated sneak attack finally struck his private tower, the legendary caster had absolutely no allies standing by his side, and the highly advanced spires designed to channel and amplify his catastrophic arts had already been heavily sabotaged from within by high-ranking traitors, leaving him completely unable to unleash his true, unmitigated power.
Yet even when caught in such a profoundly compromised, isolated state, the primary vanguard army that marched into the spire alongside the Twin Empresses, Lieselotte and Hildegard, was nearly wiped out to the last man.
If the Lich Court had chosen to actively intervene during that fateful coup—even if they had merely performed the basic task of stabilizing the spatial arrays so the Witch King could cast his spells without any structural worries behind him—the entire Leithanien rebellion would have undoubtedly concluded in a swift, devastating slaughter.
It was precisely due to this strict neutrality that the Liches were entirely spared from any violent purges after the Twin Empresses successfully seized absolute power over the empire.
Of course, the fact that the Liches had consistently chosen to remain nestled within the deep shadows of academia, completely refraining from appearing in the public eye from the very beginning, coupled with their proactive willingness to accept administrative supervision from the throne, was the core reason they were permitted to survive within the heart of the country for so long.
Reflecting on these intricate layers of survival, the group quickly understood exactly why Fremont had chosen to abruptly cut their conversation short after just an hour and a half.
His sudden departure wasn't merely a calculation to protect his own position; it was a deliberate move to safeguard the travelers themselves.
Because if their physical contact lasted for too long, given the profoundly sensitive nature of his political identity, it would inevitably trigger the paranoid nerves of the high-ranking intelligence networks monitoring the capital. Furthermore, the true origins of the mansion's household could not withstand any deep governmental scrutiny or background investigation. Knowing this, Fremont had proactively removed himself from the equation to draw the eyes of the watchmen away from them.
"It appears that even the grand sovereign of the Lich Court must navigate his daily existence with immense caution," Remilia remarked, letting out a soft, contemplative sigh as she looked up at the archive doors.
"In that case... are we truly still planning to walk inside?" Clever felt a distinct wave of panic rising in her chest after parsing the heavy implications of the conversation.
After all, their entire group had bypassed every single official border checkpoint to enter the country, meaning their legal identities were profoundly problematic. The moment the Leithanien authorities chose to launch a formal investigation into their presence, the watchmen would spot the irregularities in a single second.
"We are going inside. Why on earth wouldn't we?" Patchouli fixed her calm, steady gaze upon the grand library thresholds looming before them and walked straight through the heavy entry without a hint of hesitation.
Seeing her absolute confidence, the rest of the household smoothly followed suit. Only Clever lingered in the corridor for a brief moment, hesitating as her thoughts raced before she finally gritted her teeth and hurried after them. Deep down, she understood completely that if she chose to separate herself from Flandre and the others at this stage, a low-level caster like her wouldn't even possess the strength to safely walk out of the university gates alone.
The moment they stepped across the threshold into the main hall of the library, the sheer scale of the architecture left everyone marveled. Countless rows of towering shelves stretched toward the soaring ceilings, packed with an absolute sea of literature. Without wasting a moment, the members of the mansion began drifting through the aisles, searching for specific volumes that aligned with their personal interests.
Clever carefully selected a beautifully bound copy of the Leithanien Fairy Tales Collection from a nearby shelf, then quietly shuffled over to sit down on a wooden bench directly next to Hong Meiling.
"Meiling," Clever whispered, leaning close to the martial artist as she clutched the book tightly against her chest. "My personal strength is incredibly low. If any unexpected danger manifests later this afternoon, please, you must protect me!"
Hong Meiling beamed, her bright smile revealing a row of perfectly white teeth as she gave the frightened librarian a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
"Don't worry your head about that! As long as our Mistress is present, there won't be a single shred of actual danger capable of touching us."
She paused, pointing a thumb directly toward her own broad chest as she offered a bit of practical combat advice. "Though, if a genuine physical brawl breaks out, it won't do you much good to hide right behind me. Since my style relies entirely on my fists, the moment the tension snaps, I am guaranteed to be charging straight onto the absolute front lines of the battlefield."
She leaned in closer, gesturing subtly toward the aisle where the purple-haired scholar was currently scanning a shelf. "Your absolute best strategy is to hide directly beside Lady Patchouli. She functions as a supreme, long-range spellcaster, and with Sakuya maintaining a vigilant guard right by her flank, that specific zone is easily the safest place in the entire room."
"As for our Mistress and the little Flandre?" Meiling let out a soft chuckle. "Well, when it comes to the little Flandre, her natural instinct means she will probably charge into the fray even faster than I do, so my main job is usually to physically hold her back from destroying the entire landscape. And the Mistress herself is profoundly proficient in both high-level magic and transcendent martial arts, possessing a level of strength that defies conventional logic; she naturally maintains her own absolute judgment on how to dictate the flow of a battle."
"But... I'm really not very familiar with Lady Patchouli at all," Clever murmured, her voice laced with an anxious, lingering worry.
"You don't need to fret about that for even a second," Hong Meiling replied warmly, her tone carrying an absolute certainty that immediately settled the librarian's nerves. "Regardless of whether you have established a long familiarity with the little Flandre or not, the moment you were welcomed as her personal guest and friend, Lady Patchouli became absolutely committed to ensuring your safety. The people of the Scarlet Devil Mansion still possess an immense amount of personal integrity; we would never stand idly by and watch an associate come to harm."