Exiled Prince: I'm the Unexpected Extra in the Novel-Chapter 101: Evershade [3] The Demand of Light

The meal had now concluded.

The Marquis fixed his eyes on Cassian at the other end of the table. "The letter from Veythral contained bold claims."

Cassian wiped his mouth with a napkin and straightened in his chair. He was the one to speak. He did not beat around the bush.

"I will get straight to the point, Marquis Aldren," he said, his voice clear and confident. "I can cure your son."

The room froze for a moment. The expression on the Marquis’s face hardened. He had heard these words many times before. From charlatans, peddlers of hope, failed mages...

"How will you do that?" asked the Marquis, his voice trembling with anger and desperation. "I assume you have knowledge about my son’s illness. Demonic Mana Poisoning... Even the best healers in the Empire, the high priests of the Holy Church, could not cure him. They left him to die."

He leaned towards the table, his eyes piercing through Cassian. "So what makes you, someone young and... ordinary looking like you, think you can achieve this? Why should I believe you?"

Cassian smiled. This was not an arrogant smile; it was the smile of a player who knew his cards.

"Instead of explaining... I suppose it would be better if I showed you."

Cassian raised his hand with a confident expression on his face. He brought his index finger and thumb together.

"Watch."

And he snapped his fingers ostentatiously.

SNAP!

In the center of the room, right above the dining table, a massive beam of pure light appeared. This was not ordinary light magic. It shone brightly like a sun, but did not burn the eyes. Its rays spread to every corner of the room, erasing every shadow it touched, giving an indescribable feeling of serenity, warmth, and renewal to everyone it contacted.

The Marquis and his wife, even the knights and servants in the room, stared at this beam of light with admiration, as if enchanted. Tears streamed down Marchioness Calyra’s eyes; she felt that heavy sorrow she had felt for years lightening under this light.

Marquis Aldren watched that light with his mouth open, his eyes trembling. He was a man who had seen war and understood magic. He knew very well what he was seeing.

This was Holy Mana. 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

But not the feeble light of an ordinary priest. Pure, intense, almost divine holy mana. The number of people in the world who could use this mana did not even exceed 100.

Especially those who could use it with this purity and measure... He could not be a Saint, because a new Saint had not yet been chosen in the world.

His mind filled with questions. Who was this disrespectful young man in the black suit before him? A savior sent by the gods for his dying son? Or an angel in disguise?

Cassian slowly dimmed the light, but its effect still hung in the room. He coughed lightly to draw attention back to himself.

"Does this... answer your question, Marquis Aldren?"

The Marquis slowly turned his gaze from that light to Cassian. There was no longer anger or disdain in his voice; only respect mixed with pure astonishment and fear.

"You..." said the Marquis, swallowing hard. "What are you?"

Cassian leaned back, clasped his fingers, and slipped into that mysterious, intriguing role.

"I am many things, Marquis Aldren," he said, his eyes gleaming. "But right now, I am your son’s only hope. It is enough for you to know that."

The room was buried in silence with Cassian’s display of power.

That dazzling beam of holy light that appeared with the snap of Cassian’s fingers had slowly faded, leaving behind only the scent of purity in the air.

Marchioness Calyra brought her trembling hands to her mouth. The tears streaming from her eyes glistened on her porcelain cheeks; these were not tears of sorrow, but tears of that burning hope she felt for the first time in years.

She straightened slightly from her chair, reached out her hand as if to touch the miracle Cassian had just created, but pulled it back. Her gaze was locked on Cassian as if looking at a savior.

"My son..." she whispered, her voice like broken glass. "Can you... truly save him?"

Marquis Aldren ground his teeth upon seeing his wife in this vulnerable state. He was gripping his silver goblet on the table so tightly that the metal could be seen slightly bending.

He was a father, but also a ruler. He could not succumb to his emotions.

He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and fixed his gaze on this mysterious young man in the black suit sitting across from him with a relaxed demeanor.

"Very well," said the Marquis, exerting great effort to keep his voice from trembling. "Let us say I believed you could truly cure my son. That light, it is impossible to imitate that mana. I am aware of that."

He narrowed his eyes and leaned towards the other end of the table.

"However, it is obvious that you did not come here just out of ’kindness’. You are not a charity, nor is Lord Fredrinn of Veythral. You did not travel all this way just to save my son."

The air in the hall suddenly took on a commercial coldness. Rose shifted nervously in her chair; she could feel the approaching storm.

Eric did not break his composure and continued to sit like a statue. He completely trusted Cassian with the talking.

Only Cordelia, seemingly unaware of all this tension, was busy scraping the last crumbs remaining on her dessert plate with her finger and bringing them to her mouth.

"What exactly do you want from us in return for this ’miraculous’ help?"

Cassian leaned back. He had that annoying calmness of a chess player who had calculated everything in advance on his face.

He waved his hand slightly left and right in the air, as if swatting away the Marquis’s worries like a fly.

"There is no need to be so tense, Marquis Aldren," he said, his voice soft as velvet but with a sharp subtext. "I will ask only a simple thing from you."

"What do you want?" The Marquis’s patience was about to run out.

Cassian did not answer. Instead, he slowly turned his gaze to the servants lined along the walls of the room and the armored guards at the door. His look was meaningful.

Marquis Aldren immediately understood Cassian’s intention. The matter to be discussed was of the kind that should not be overheard, that even walls should not hear.

The Marquis raised his hand sharply. "Everyone out!" he ordered. "Immediately!"

Hearing the decisive tone in their master’s voice, the servants and guards left the hall quickly without hesitating for even a moment, bowing their heads.

The heavy oak doors closed noisily as the last person exited.

Only the Marquis, his wife, and Cassian’s team remained in the room. When silence returned, Cassian leaned towards the table, clasped his fingers, and voiced that "simple" request comfortably, as if asking for a glass of water.

"I want your army and your fortune. Or at least, a significant portion of it."

The air in the room froze instantly. Rose’s eyes widened; she knew Cassian’s plan but did not expect him to say it so... bluntly. Marchioness Calyra’s hand went to her heart.

Marquis Aldren tried to laugh as if he could not believe what he heard, but only an angry growl came out of his throat.

"My army?! Have you lost your mind, boy?!" The Marquis slammed the table, plates clattered. "You said you would ask for something simple! My army is the honor of Evershade! It is the sole force holding the demon border!"

"I am asking for something simple anyway," said Cassian, not affected in the slightest by the Marquis’s anger.

"Your Marquisate is a warrior people who have protected the Northern region of the Empire for hundreds of years. The discipline and power of your army are at a level comparable to the four great Duchies in the Empire. In fact, even more capable than them in some matters."

Cassian pointed to the silver candelabra on the table.

"As for the fortune... The Evershade region is quite rich with rare and extremely valuable mana ores. Your mines meet a large part of the Empire’s magic needs. Financially... I do not think paying a small sum for the war we will wage will drive you to bankruptcy. In exchange for your son’s life, isn’t this a cheap price?"

The Marquis took a deep, trembling breath and let himself fall back into his chair. He sighed. This young man in the black suit across from him. Those unyielding attitudes he had assumed since arriving here, that strange comfort at dinner, that holy power he showed, and now this daring bargain. It was clear he had planned everything step by step from the very beginning.

With his son’s life on the table, it was meaningless to argue or try to bargain with him. He was cornered.

"Alright..." said the Marquis, his voice sounding tired. "Let us say I went mad and accepted this. This fortune and army... what do you want to use them for? Who will you attack?"

"With the money," said Cassian, "I plan to gather more soldiers, mercenaries, mages... in short, anyone who can fight."

"More soldiers?" The Marquis frowned. "The army I will give you... Evershade’s elite units... are at a level sufficient to invade a county! Is this not enough for you? What will you do with so many soldiers?"

The Marquis was confused. Was this young man going to rebel against the Empire? Or was he going to challenge the Demon King? Such a massive power meant only one thing: Total war.

"What do you plan to use this army against?" asked the Marquis finally, fearing the answer.

Cassian took a sip of apple juice from the table, slowly put the glass back, and said that name as if it were the simplest, most ordinary thing in the world.

"Obsidian Dawn."