Chapter 85 - Negotiation On Stalemate

Friends or Enemies, whichever lied between Athan and Mystique, wasn't the highlight of his objective.

All that he bore in mind was to prove himself to the current Mystique that he was capable and prove to her that he could do just as much as her achievements, bearing the same result through several adjustments of methods—or even better.

Maybe, just a chance that maybe Mystique would be on the same page as him without butting heads every now and then...

So far, Matthew reported that Mystique visited a couple of times, more so to appeal to such matters he had yet to know. Yet Athan believed in him; aside from being someone he could rely on, it almost seemed plausible it was the case.

But hearing Edmund dropped the news had his body deeply rooted against the cream and mint couch. 

It was akin to cold feet, of what he possibly learned for the day.

"Is that so..." Athan mustered remaining strength to sit upright with arms crossing eagerly endured not to show his fiddling fingers despite having a bored countenance.

"It's alright, Your Highness…"

"It did reach my ears." He nodded about how the grand auction held pretty much earlier, as in days prior to the target date. "I thought it was some hearsay with the mysterious man that supported you regardless."

But all this time, he contemplated the sudden news; none of it had Mystique taken part in it; as she was known who was into shady moves, there was still that kind of feelings and doubt that made him have several reservations.

Though, even if it was her, that would stop him from getting what he wanted first and foremost. 

"Indeed, Glenn Forsberg was the mysterious person you're talking about." Edmund chuckled as he jammed his hands into the pockets of his coat. "As a token of gratitude, he gave me this…"

Athan sucked in a cold breath as soon as he recognized the pendant of beaded black pearls with a white conch shell that dangled from his hand. A slight shiver crept to his spine and made him grip tight on the armrest unless he'd take a jaunt as what he saw right before his eyes.

'Without a doubt, that's the Hymnic Conch…'

In retrospect, he thought about how he saw it the first time at the 'Grand Auction' event held at the same date and time; he never batted an eye on it. Even when the auctioneer presented the item as such, everyone thought it catered to the female audiences.

After scrutiny and investigation, he realized that it was just another piece of aesthetic to rub Mystique's narcissistic self and ego, and no shenanigans were to bloom from it. Yet, still, Mystique saw the greatest potential when everyone thought it was just a mere accessory.

Somehow, he felt lost until Marianne spoke about it freely and grabbed such achievement and uproar among the nobles. Perhaps his investigation wasn't enough.

It was one of the artifacts he would need to tame the Frost Wyrm. There were three of them, and as far as he remembered, he got the information from Marianne that she and two other ladies would wield the same artifact and perform in front of the legendary creature that dwelled within the Northern Territory.

He listened to her stories of how long and how much blood, sweat, and tears they poured to please such an intimidating monster. But it wasn't the end, as the one selected would perform such a unique bond—almost like those of a familiar, which was mind-blowing to him.

If he knew the better way to tame was through performance and not a bloody battle as submission, then he would've made a different preparation for a long time ago.

'For how many lives would've been saved if not for her…'

Though the preparations weren't easy, Mystique came and trained them hard, almost like torture, but the Lady of Salvatore couldn't express her further gratitude for all its worth—all of her efforts paid off, and she became the only 'Frost Wyrm Rider' throughout his lifetime.

After Marianne recalled the tough journey she had with Mystique, it was as though his shoulders weighed a thousand tons of shame and guilt when the villainess had to carry all the burden, even when everyone turned their backs on her.

Even him…

His jaws became rigid, too tightened to talk as much as he never let go of his gaze from it.

"You seem interested in this, Your Highness." There was a glint in Edmund's eyes, which had Athan break free from his trance.

"I think that's one pretty accessory over there."

"Indeed it is, although it's not just an accessory," he muttered after rubbing his stubble chin. He clinked onto the shell with a crisp glass sound to it. "I got told about a magnificent ability that remained hidden in this artifact."

Edmund's words of enthusiasm bore contrast to the dread that washed over Athan's spine if only his skin could get any paler than it was now as he seemed deep-rooted on his seat.

There was no telling him what could be the story further than what he knew about the conch that just appeared in the Auctio Royale.

'I don't think this senile man knew such a thing—' A sudden dilation of his pupils came when he thought about the mysterious man earlier. 'Could it be him?'

Athan adjusted the lapels of his collar as he sat comfortably.

"I hope you don't mind selling that to me."

"Oh?" There was an arch in his eyebrows from an assertive reply. "Well, there are still two more of these—"

Edmund's muse had him gritted his teeth; seeing how he changed his stance and demeanor, he knew he was up against a tough businessman.

"Is that so?" Athan hummed, pretending to contemplate a tad bit. "I might as well take them all then."

"Pardon?" Edmund was somehow taken aback from the Crown Prince, as though he would rather believe in buying one instead of all of them, including the one that was already in his possession. Though with his crimson eyes glowing and a sinister smile, the Marquis cleared his throat. "I don't wish to be rude, but I already settled some arrangements with His Grace, Grand Duke of Forsberg."

But even with the mature mindset he had, the emotions of his younger self were still dominant throughout his body, and the impulsive reactions were harder to restrict.

"Well, too bad. Perhaps this one…" Athan waved the parchment. "—Might not come through."