Chapter 150: First Act 21: Into the Climax 3

"Shit! Fuck! What the hell is going on?" Armin's expletives echoed through his cell, frustration and disbelief etched on his face.

'What did I do to deserve this?' he grumbled to himself, the cold walls of the cell offering no solace.

Accused of smuggling illegal items into the academy, Armin found himself stripped of his prestigious titles – both as the president and head councilman of the Heiron merchantry at Estelle Academy. Princess Christine, acting swiftly, had wielded her authority to revoke his rights, leaving Armin bewildered and confined.

The details of how the situation escalated to this point eluded him. He couldn't fathom why the finger of accusation had pointed in his direction. The sudden betrayal of trust cut deep, leaving him grappling with confusion and a sense of injustice.

As Armin sat in his dimly lit cell, pondering the events that led to his downfall, he couldn't shake the feeling of abandonment. The duke, someone he had considered an ally, had seemingly forsaken him in this time of need. The weight of betrayal added to the torment, intensifying the turmoil of emotions swirling within him.

He could still remember the piercing gaze of Princess Christine's eyes.

"Why is it like that, Mr. Armin?" Princess Christine's question hung heavy in the air, the weight of suspicion evident in her gaze.

"P-please trust me, your highness. I truly do not know what's going on. I didn't even know that there were illegal contents in the items and products brought. I-it was the duke who ordered me to bring these items here" Armin stammered, his voice a mix of desperation and confusion.

"Hmm? So, you're saying the duke was the one who gave you permission?"

Armin hesitated, his mind racing through the implications of revealing the truth. The gravity of his situation loomed large, and the prospect of escape seemed increasingly distant. Loyalty to the duke had been ingrained in him for as long as he could remember. The luxurious life he led was a testament to the unwavering service he provided to the noble.

"Y-yes..."

"Really now? But there are no records of his name in the transfer, though neither are yours. For what reason should I believe your words, Mr. Armin?" Princess Christine's piercing green eyes bore into him, each gaze a calculated strike, like a snake strangling its prey, waiting for the final breath.

"P-please believe me, your highness. I truly am a victim in this..."

Said Armin as he forcefully put his head to a bow, he didn't even know why but he was sweating when he made direct eye contact with the princess his goosebumps spreading across his body.

"The evidence does suggest your words to be somewhat true, but you are nothing more than a man he has assigned to be the head of his merchantry branch here, and the duke is a loyal subject and personal aide of my father, part of the highest order in the imperial court. Even if the duke's actions may somehow be suspicious, subordinates tend to move even without their superiors' orders. For what reason should I believe that this wasn't just your action alone? Do you have proof it was the duke who gave you the order?"

The weight of Princess Christine's words pressed down on Armin like an unyielding force. Her skepticism sliced through his defense, leaving him with a sinking feeling that all avenues of escape were closing in. The reality of his predicament sank in as the princess laid bare the stark power dynamics between him and the influential duke.

As the gravity of her question settled, Armin's mind raced. All hope of escape seemed to evaporate. The only records and evidence he had of his communication with the duke were confined to their conversations through the communication crystal, and the letter the duke had given him had long been turned to ashes.

The silence stretched, and Armin found himself in a moment of intense vulnerability. The truth was clear to him – he had no tangible proof to present. The realization that the only link to the duke's involvement had been destroyed sent a wave of despair through him.

"I-I don't have concrete proof, your highness. The duke and I communicated through a crystal, and the letter he gave me, I...I've already burned it," Armin admitted, his voice carrying a sense of defeat.

"I see..."

When the princess's knights approached, chains in hand, Armin's response was unexpected. He didn't resist; instead, he willingly accepted being chained, a strange calm settling over him. In those tense moments, he even proposed the idea that the Duke of Heiron could be his benefactor, perhaps hoping that the duke would step in and vouch for him.

However, the shock that crossed Armin's face was palpable when he realized that the duke had chosen to abandon him.

The very person he had considered a benefactor and ally had severed ties without a second thought.

The sense of betrayal cut deep, and Armin couldn't fathom why the duke had forsaken him in such a crucial moment.

'Duke, why?'

As Armin grumbled in his squalid cell, surrounded by the stench of dampness and decay, he couldn't shake the profound misery that enveloped him. The contrast between his current predicament and the once opulent life he had known was stark, a harsh reminder of how swiftly circumstances could change. The cold, damp moss under him and the wet surroundings emphasized the desolation that had become his reality.

Surveying his surroundings, Armin's gaze fell upon rotting corpses in a neighboring cell, a macabre testament to the academy's harsh treatment of its prisoners. Fortunately, he hadn't met the same fate – the guards, despite the squalor, still fed him from time to time, allowing him to cling to a semblance of life.

"Oh! You really do look like a pig, hahaha," a snickering voice interrupted his somber thoughts. Armin turned to find a man, his earthy brown hair and direct eyes signaling that he was a fellow student wearing the academy's uniform.

"A student... who are you?" Armin questioned, a flicker of suspicion in his eyes.

"I'm your savior, pig, so don't look at me full of suspicion like that," the mysterious man replied, a hint of amusement in his tone.

"Oh and don't worry about the guards for now, just put a few gold coins in his pocket and viola entry to your pig den was immediately allowed kekeke"

'Hehe, I hope Lilliana's still at the student council office'

....

"Ok, done! Good job, kid," I commended, a sense of satisfaction in my tone as I affectionately patted his head.

"Ugh...! Did we really need to plant this here?"

He grumbled, though there was a hint of enjoyment in his complaint.

"Why isn't this the perfect spot?"

"It is, but... I'm not good with heights," he admitted, his gaze nervously fixated on the ground below.

We were perched atop a clock tower in the commercial district, offering a panoramic view of the academy.

Being one of the tallest structures, it provided a vantage point to observe almost everything the academy had to offer.

I couldn't help but tease him, "For someone who acted like a ninja last time, this is quite unexpected. You were pretty high up when you were hiding behind that stone in the dungeon last time, you know?"

"Ninja?" he queried, clearly surprised.

"Nothing... but with this, we've planted all of it. Thanks for the help, kid," I acknowledged, grateful for his assistance in our covert mission.

"Well, you did give me something in return—" he began, glancing at the high-class mana bomb I had bestowed upon him.

His curiosity about its origin lingered, but he refrained from asking further questions, realizing that our relationship was contractual from the start.

The unspoken understanding hung in the air, acknowledging the boundaries we had set and the secrets we were both willing to keep.

"Hey... I know I'm not supposed to ask anything... But what's the purpose of installing all these communication crystals and stones all over public places in the academy?" he inquired, a note of curiosity in his voice.

"..."

I paused, considering how to respond to this inquiry that treaded on the delicate boundaries of our unspoken agreement.

After a moment of silence, I chose not to offer an answer.

As I had this nagging feeling that answering will only lead to more trouble.

As I rose from my seat at the edge, I approached him and extended a communication crystal in his direction. His puzzled expression prompted the question.

"This is?"

"As you can see, I told you, right? You're also gonna need to help me with something next week and for the other days to come" I explained, hoping to emphasize the reciprocal nature of our arrangement.

His gaze met mine with a mixture of horror and shock. It seemed that he was still apprehensive about spending any more time with me.

Admittedly, considering my penchant for discussing death, murder, and genocide as though they were casual topics, his wariness was understandable.

Yet, in that moment, I couldn't help but ponder if he had any room to criticize me in the first place?

After all, he was an actual terrorist, not me.

'Yet'

....

A week passed after that.

It was the start of the dungeon exploration exams.