Gunmage-Chapter 281: Silence is consent

Like a vessel.

The atmosphere shifted, subtle yet absolute. The cathedral, once humming with quiet echoes and whispers of incense, fell into an unnatural silence.

Drey blinked, her eyes narrowing as she studied the motionless archbishop. Something in the air had changed. Something imperceptible to the eye, yet tangible to the skin.

She furrowed her brow. Confusion crept into her features as she waited for the man to speak. Seconds dragged, each one longer than the last. Finally, his voice broke through the stillness.

"A vessel, huh..."

His tone was low and calm.

"This doesn’t sound good."

Drey’s perplexity deepened.

"What do you mean?"

The man turned his head slightly, just enough to glance in her direction. His eyes, once calm, now bore an unreadable depth.

"Do you know..."

He began,

"That Lugh has sailed the Devil Sea?"

"Yes, I—"

She froze mid-sentence. Her mind reeled, alarm threading into her chest.

The Devil Sea?

Though she didnt really know much about the actual place. She’d heard whispers, fragments of old sailor tales and forbidden texts.

The word "vessel" resurfaced in her mind. Paired with something as ominous as that place... the implications definitely could not be good.

She exhaled slowly.

The archbishop stood, each motion deliberate, he straightened his clergy robes before turning to her.

"I have to report this,"

He said.

"To the High Cardinal?"

Drey asked, her voice cautious.

He shook his head. Just once. Then he uttered a single word:

"Higher."

Her brows drew in sharply. Her heart thudded.

"You mean... the Pope?"

The archbishop nodded gravely, lips pressed into a thin line.

Her anxiety spiked.

"Is it that serious? Serious enough that you need to travel?"

"No."

She blinked.

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"I don’t need to travel,"

He said flatly.

Then he turned, walking away, his robes trailing like a shadow behind him. Drey stood rooted, her mind racing to piece it together.

And then, after a brief internal struggle, it finally clicked.

The Pope is here!?

...

The Von Heim carriages were among the last to depart the Cross Manor.

Inside them, the air was alive with chatter.

Every cousin, wide-eyed and breathless, dissected what they’d witnessed—or in some cases, felt. Even Enji, who hadn’t been able to physically see the duel, was still shaken.

He felt it.

The tremors, the deafening sounds, the strange magic thickening the air like mist.

Now, his siblings were trying to explain it to him in vivid detail. Not just for his sake—but perhaps because saying it out loud helped them believe it really happened.

In another carriage, Lugh sat silently beside Selaphiel.

Aveline wasn’t with them this time.

He turned his head, staring out the window. The trees and buildings passed in a blur, but his mind wasn’t on the scenery.

His thoughts kept replaying the events of the day—over and over. Truth be told, they should still be at the manor.

The duel was originally scheduled for nightfall, but after everything that had happened, the schedule had been upended.

He hadn’t even gotten the chance to properly speak with Lyra. Or to question Xhi.

Why did the spell malfunction?

Why was Drakensmar ruined?

And why—

Why did he strongly believe he had all the life experiences and memories of thousands of people when in reality... he didn’t.

As the questions churned, Selaphiel sat beside him with a distant expression, her gaze cloudy.

Lugh glanced at her.

"What’s the real reason for this war?"

He asked, voice quiet but firm.

She didn’t respond immediately. When she did, it was with a half-shrug.

"Why are you asking me? I haven’t been around for a decade. I only returned a few weeks ago."

Lugh’s gaze sharpened.

"And yet, you already know far more than I do."

He pressed on.

"When I spied on your conversation with the Queen..."

Selaphiel’s face twitched ever so slightly at the mention of that title.

Lugh noticed at once.

Thpugh he didn’t comment. He simply continued.

"She said something about a mission report. Were you sent on a mission?"

His tone carried certainty. He wasn’t guessing. He knew.

Selaphiel sighed, her shoulders falling slightly.

"I was sent out to investigate... certain matters."

Lugh folded his arms.

"And that’s why you disappeared for ten years?"

She nodded, slowly. Her reluctance to elaborate was clear, but he wasn’t about to let the matter drop.

"Curious,"

Lugh said evenly.

"The war also started ten years ago. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?"

An uncomfortable silence settled in the carriage.

The seconds ticked by.

Then finally, Selaphiel’s voice emerged, low and even.

"A few months after the war erupted, I—along with a few others—received a letter from the Jade Tower."

Lugh raised an eyebrow, feigning confusion.

She kept speaking.

"We were tasked with identifying the true cause of the war. And finding out which nation—or organization—was really pulling Heieg’s strings from the shadows."

Lugh’s eyes narrowed.

"And I’m guessing... you did."

"We did."

She looked away.

"But I’m not telling you anything more. It’s confidential."

Lugh scowled.

There was something bigger here. He could feel it, like a blade beneath silk. Something was being hidden—something important.

Then, a theory surfaced.

He remembered something—Selaphiel had dabbled in alchemy, hadn’t she?

He turned to her, eyes sharp.

"The Jade Tower isn’t conducting human experiments, are they?"

They locked eyes.

Selaphiel tilted her head, then offered a noncommittal shrug.

"You tell me."

"That’s not an answer,"

Lugh said bluntly.

"I know."

Then she went quiet again, lips sealed.

Lugh rubbed his forehead, irritated. She probably suspected that he could sense deception—whether she knew how or not, it didn’t matter.

She was being deliberately evasive.

"You know,"

he muttered,

"Someone once told me this. ’Silence is the same as consent.’"

She smiled faintly.

"Is it?"

He clicked his tongue in frustration, crossing his arms tightly.

If even the magical elite of Ophris were involved in this—cruel, inhuman experiments on captured prisoners—then everything he believed about the war, the kingdom, and perhaps even himself...

Had just been flipped completely upside down.

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