Chapter Sixty-Five: Making a Mountain Out of a Molehill

Barely two days later, Mulan received a secret order from the Queen, instructing him to prepare for a covert investigation into corruption within the imperial military. The Queen also wished for Mulan to present his own plan and recommendations. Having already deliberated on this matter for some time, Mulan immediately set about drafting his proposal.

He was keenly aware that this was the Queen’s most crucial test of him, one that would measure his loyalty and competence. Whether he could handle the task well would not only affect the lives, families, and even reputations of countless comrades, but would also determine his own political future—within both the imperial aristocracy and the Black Castle.

This matter could not be tackled by confronting the upper echelons directly, as that would only provoke fierce resistance. What needed to be done was to start with something small, use it as an entry point, and then escalate the issue.

The proposal ran to over a dozen densely written pages. Mulan secluded himself in the office of the York District Police Bureau, writing from dawn until dusk, and then from dusk until the break of day. When at last he finished, he sent the document straight to the Queen; at that hour, even Nyshelir had yet to rise from bed.

Within the palace, Nyshelir began her day by reading Mulan’s proposal after breakfast, before turning to other matters of state. Although she had expected Mulan to have considered this issue beforehand, she was surprised to receive the completed proposal after just one day, and doubted its thoroughness.

Yet as she read further, her expression grew increasingly serious. What began as a casual skim soon turned into a word-by-word reading; she left no detail unchecked, and before she realized it, she had finished all the pages in their entirety.

“Your Majesty, it seems this proposal is quite excellent,” one of her closest advisors finally remarked.

Nyshelir handed him the document. “You two should have a look as well. It’s rather interesting.”

The two advisors, who were always at the Queen’s side, leaned together to examine the proposal. Their reading was swift but thorough, missing no nuance.

“This is a truly brilliant plan,” one said. “Though some of its methods are perhaps not strictly legal or conventional, they would certainly be effective.”

The other advisor, a man, smiled. “It shows he sees the heart of the matter with great clarity. He is more mature than we imagined. I once thought he would rush to the Queen and make a hasty accusation, that he was still naive. Now, however, it’s clear—he has made up his mind, and is gambling his own future on this.”

Nyshelir reflected for a moment. “He’s gambling on his success?”

“No, Your Majesty,” the taller advisor replied, handing back the proposal with calm conviction. “He has no doubt he will succeed—the confidence is evident in his plan. What he’s truly wagering on is your wisdom, Your Majesty; this is a test of your magnanimity.”

Nyshelir’s eyes widened in astonishment. “He dares...”

“This plan is rooted in his deep trust in you, and in his expectations of you, Your Majesty. Please consider your response carefully. If implemented, it will undoubtedly harm the interests of some great nobles.”

That day, Mulan was not summoned to the palace, nor did he receive any reply. But on the following day, a letter arrived for him. The envelope was plain, with no sender indicated; inside was an order bearing the Queen’s seal.

Seeing the order, Mulan could not help but feel a surge of excitement—the blood of the Jonst family seemed to stir within him. As a minor figure in the political world, to challenge the great powers was a task both daunting and exhilarating.

Without hesitation, Mulan returned early to the Black Castle and sought out Guy and Jenny, whom he had not contacted in some time. The two of them now held minor administrative positions, performing menial duties.

Unlike Mulan, who remained in favor, Guy and Jenny had been more closely associated with Dolly, and so, after the incident with the siren attack, were implicated and forbidden from further studies of the arcane or from entering the library. They were left with only mundane chores, a severe blow to their ambitions, but there was nothing to be done about it.

Mulan found them while they were cleaning the dust-laden records room, a space filled mostly with old files over a century old, of little real value.

“Cough, cough… careful, cough…” As Guy pulled out a few files, a cloud of dust enveloped the two.

“It’s so filthy. When will we ever finish cleaning this place?”

“Stop complaining, cough…”

Mulan had reached the doorway by then. Seeing their disheveled state, he quietly stepped back, waiting two minutes before approaching again and pretending to have just arrived.

Knock, knock.

“Hello, I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

Jenny and Guy, hearing his voice, looked up in surprise. “Professor!”

Mulan smiled. “I thought you’d still call me that. This kind of work doesn’t suit you at all—it’s a waste of your talents.”

They clenched their teeth and said nothing, though hope flickered in their hearts. True to their expectation, Mulan spoke the words they longed for.

“I can make you both new apprentices, and I’d like you to help me with a small task. If you’re willing, it will be our little secret. But don’t say yes just yet—hear me out first.”

Even as he spoke, Mulan produced two apprentice certificates from his pocket. His current position in the Court’s Department of Magic might be modest, but arranging for such things was a trivial matter.

After a brief explanation, Jenny and Guy could hardly contain themselves.

“We’re willing!” “We’ll do it!” “It’s easy for us!” “We won’t disappoint you, Professor!”

Filled with joy and eagerness, they returned home that night to begin their preparations, both in terms of divination and their appearance. Meanwhile, by the Queen’s orders, certain files and archives were already being readied.

The next day at the York District Police Bureau, a gaunt boy and girl appeared at the precinct, begging for help in finding their father’s death gratuity. Their situation was desperate—they could not go on.

Their father had enlisted, leaving their mother to support the family alone. The three of them endured hardship and humiliation from their neighbors. Their mother’s severe illness crushed the family; the siblings took on the burden. A year and a half ago, they received news of their father’s death in action, sending them into despair and worsening their mother’s condition.

Their father’s letters spoke of receiving ten gold dinars in compensation if he fell in battle—a lifeline for the family. Yet after waiting a year and a half, their mother died, and the siblings could no longer cope. Still, the gratuity never came, nor did their father’s belongings.

Jenny’s pitiful appearance touched anyone who saw her, and Guy, though haggard, was gentle and understanding—a pair of siblings at the very end of their road.

Anyone with a shred of conscience would be moved by their performance, and the detectives and officers who met them felt deep sympathy and regret.

It was a minor case of little consequence, but it was the opening move of Mulan’s plan.

The police had no authority to intervene in military affairs and could only pacify the siblings with empty promises, their innocent words and hopeful looks making it painfully clear that they believed the lies of a formal investigation…

A week later, on a morning like any other, officers arrived at the York Police Precinct for work. Detective Randy entered with heavy steps, looked at his colleagues eating bread or drinking coffee, and quietly announced, “I just got word—the brother of the Nia siblings (an alias) passed away, the night after they left the station…”

Everyone who heard him was stunned, the mood spreading like a contagion. Soon, the entire precinct was enveloped in silence.

That afternoon, even Chief Dawson came to Mulan’s office, several detectives in tow. After a moment’s hesitation, Dawson knocked.

Knock, knock, knock.

A voice from within: “Come in.”

Chief Dawson straightened his coat and entered alone, feeling the psychological pressure of the office.

“Chief Dawson, is there something you need?” Mulan looked up.

Dawson got to the point. “Mr. Jonst, have you heard about the Nia siblings?”

Mulan nodded.

“I’ve heard. It moved me as well.”

Dawson gathered his courage. “We reported the case to headquarters, hoping to negotiate with the military to locate Mr. Nia’s belongings—but we were rejected. Mr. Jonst, as our Special Inspector, and a legendary sorcerer, is there anything you can do?”

“And the gratuity?” Mulan asked, then answered for him. “Are you planning to collect the money yourselves?”

Dawson did not respond directly, only murmuring, “I have children too…”

Mulan sighed. “Chief, though magic is wondrous, it’s not omnipotent. I’m afraid I can’t help. I’m sorry.”

Dawson, too, sighed, excused himself, and left.

Outside, the detectives looked at Dawson. When he shook his head, their disappointment was plain, but they quickly composed themselves, for Mulan had followed him out.

“We’ve worked together for some time, but I hardly know you all. The fact that you came to me about this shows your kindness. The day is nearly done—if you don’t mind, let me buy you dinner. Perhaps a little drink will help.”

The officers were momentarily stunned, but all accepted the invitation.

Beside the Dia Daily office was the renowned Firebird Restaurant. With Mulan arranging a carriage, the journey was short. The six of them filled a large table. Mulan ordered the famous Firebird Feast and quality wine.

At the table, all distinctions of rank faded. There were no chiefs or sorcerers—just comrades. Inevitably, the topic turned to the Nia siblings, and sadness filled the air.

“Chief, Inspector, did you know? I told them we’d do our best to get the gratuity and their father’s effects back… The siblings looked at me with such joy—that look, that trust, I’ll never forget it…”

“Don’t say more… just drink…”

“I’ve been a detective for years, and thought I was numb to it all. But they were so heartbreaking, I feel like a bastard.”

A chorus of sighs, voices thick with guilt, anger, and helplessness.

Nearby tables held reporters from Dia Daily, who began to jot down notes. The more emotionally honest the officers were, the more intrigued the journalists became—some even planned to investigate further that very night.

The next day, as Mulan expected, the story of the Nia siblings appeared in print—second article on the second page.

Their plight stirred readers’ compassion; the passage describing the officers drinking to drown their sorrow, lamenting their guilt, moved the public deeply.

On the third day, Dia Daily received several anonymous letters from other families who had likewise never received gratuities or belongings.

On the fourth and fifth days, as the coverage continued, more letters poured in. The case made the front page, the headline reading: “How Many More Nia Siblings Are There?”

Pressure from all corners of society mounted, bearing down on the oblivious imperial military.

Meanwhile, Mulan was teaching at the Black Castle, the new blackboard already covered in writing.

“Human beings are creatures capable of empathy. In the study of the arcane, resonance is much prized. Yet too many scholars focus solely on the self. In my view, collective empathy can also become a mighty resonance: on the battlefield, a unit prepared to die together can unleash power far beyond their training; or, for example, the pursuit of a noble ideal…”