Dorothy’s Forbidden Grimoire Novel - Chapter 458

Chapter 458

“Dorothy… Seriously, can we stop talking about Thief K?” Nevius sat by the window in the riverside café, her brow drawn tight in frustration as she faced Dorothy. “Why can’t we just focus on stealing things and leave it at that? Skip all the spectacle? Every single time, it ends up with the entire world buzzing.”

There was clear tension in Nevius’s tone. The excited murmurs from nearby tables—people tossing around stories about Thief K—made her uneasy. Watching the legend grow in real time made her pulse quicken. Weren’t thieves supposed to operate in secrecy? This level of attention felt reckless. Almost arrogant.

Dorothy gave a knowing nod, a ghost of a smile flickering as she lifted her coffee cup. “Normally, yes. A proper thief vanishes without a name. But Thief K doesn’t follow that logic. Her reputation is the tool itself. Broadcasting intent to steal is the strategy. That was true on the Shining White Pearl, and it’s just as true here in Ardrea.”

“As the legend expands, Nevius, there’s no reason for panic. Stay in the shadows, and no one will ever imagine the frail student in the library is the infamous phantom they all gossip about. Trust me—this is handled.”

Though Nevius heard Dorothy’s assurance, a sliver of unease clung to her. The fear that Thief K’s rising notoriety might come back to haunt them crept at the edges of her mind. Then she thought about all the scrapes she’d survived—thanks, almost always, to Dorothy’s planning. Slowly, the tension in her shoulders eased.

*Right… What am I getting worked up for? This whole Thief K thing—it’s not just me. It’s both of us. Dorothy builds the blueprint; I carry it out. If I can’t believe in myself, I can at least believe in her. Even if I fall short, her skills more than make up for it.*

With the realization solidifying in her thoughts, her worries lost their bite. She exhaled and reached for a piece of flatbread, chewing slowly.

Dorothy’s gaze lingered on her. “You’ve been in Ardrea for a while now. How’s the excavation work treating you? Got your next destination mapped out yet?”

Nevius answered through her bite. “Professor John’s had us digging through nearly every ruin and ancient site the region has. A lot of academic rambling, too. I think we’re wrapping up soon. But where to next? That’s still being argued over. Some want to dive deeper into Ivygh culture and head to Pace, the capital. Others think another sea voyage is in order—to broaden our thesis horizons.”

Dorothy stirred her coffee thoughtfully. “Wasn’t North Ufia next on the list originally? Has that changed?”

“It was always more of a placeholder,” Nevius said, swallowing. “But things are heating up over there. Political unrest. The professors are torn—safety concerns and all. No one’s settled on anything yet.”

Dorothy sifted through her mental archive of recent news clippings. Yes, there’d been talk of escalating conflict throughout North Ufia—tensions flaring in colonized territories, tensions rooted in both faith and heritage. Hardly ideal conditions for academic fieldwork.

“Hmm. Better to be safe. Let me know once a plan gets finalized,” Dorothy said, cutting into her cake with delicate precision. “By the way, those Grimoires I gave you—done with them yet? How’s your Spiritual Energy looking?”

“Done and dusted!” Nevius perked up immediately, posture snapping straight. “And Lady Alka helped purge all the Knowledge Poison! My core ‘Silence’ Spiritual Energy is fully stocked, and my auxiliary ‘Cup’ Energy is more than halfway full. Totally meets your standards, Miss Dorothy!”

Dorothy gave a faint nod. She’d already known this—she’d personally seen to the toxin’s removal. The question had just been a lead-in. “All filled already? Impressive. That means you just need the Ritual to reach White Ash. Your steward still refusing to hand over the rest of the journal?”

“You mean Uncle Nunuote?” Nevius sighed, slumping slightly. “He’s still stuck on me ‘taking it slow.’ He won’t hand it over. He’s completely set on dragging this out.”

The last portion of her grandfather’s notes—the crucial half of the Soul-Capturer Ritual—remained locked away in Nunuote’s care. The man clearly believed the initial segment was enough to keep her occupied for months. He was playing it safe.

Dorothy frowned. “You did tell him you’ve reached Black Earth, and that all you need now is the White Ash instructions, right?”

“I *did!*” Nevius threw her arms up in exasperation. “But hitting Black Earth just made him *more* alarmed! Now he’s even more determined to keep the journal from me. He keeps saying I’m progressing too fast and that I need to ‘slow down’ before something goes wrong.”

*Her sudden rise must’ve rattled the old man,* Dorothy thought. *From no rank to Apprentice just last October. Then straight to Black Earth in two months? It’s enough to make anyone cautious. Especially for someone like Nunote—still an Apprentice himself. Watching his young mistress blast through the ranks would shake anyone’s foundation…*

Nevius’s accelerated growth, fueled by her “absorbing study” technique, wasn’t something traditionalists could easily comprehend. From Nunuote’s point of view, it probably looked unstable, maybe even dangerous. Add to that the shrouded existence of the Crimson Rose Society—it all added up to legitimate anxiety. His protectiveness wasn’t out of place.

*But we’ll need to cut through that fog. Nevius has to share more about Crimson Rose with him. Maybe even mention Alka. Let him see she’s surrounded by powerful, stable allies. That her advancement is supervised, guided, safe. That the Crimson Rose Society is a legitimate, responsible organization. If he sees that, he’ll back off.*

Having resolved the approach, Dorothy leaned forward slightly. “Leave your uncle to me. When the moment’s right, I’ll speak to him. Clear up his doubts. Once he’s at ease, I’m sure the rest of the notes will follow. Shouldn’t be too hard.”

“You’re… going to speak with him directly?” Nevius blinked. “Alright then. I trust you with it. I won’t be advancing just yet anyway. Even with the Ritual in hand, the prep work is going to take some time.”

“And that’s exactly why time matters,” Dorothy replied, finishing her coffee with finality. “The earlier you get the instructions, the sooner you can begin laying the groundwork. You’ve been invaluable to me—so rest assured, Nevius, I’ll do all I can to ensure you keep moving forward.”

Nevius let the words settle in and gave a grateful nod. “Thanks… Really.”

———

Once the meal ended, Dorothy paid the tab, and the two parted ways after a few quiet words. Each walked off toward their respective lodgings.

Dorothy caught a decorated skiff back to her inn near Cathedral Square. Before going inside, she paused, glancing at the closed-off plaza and the now-dim cathedral spire. She passed the doorman, crossed the lobby, climbed the staircase, and entered her room.

Sinking into the velvet couch, she allowed herself a moment’s reprieve. Her mind drifted immediately to the night before.

*Flawless execution. Bishop Antonio was lured using both Summerfield Vania and the promise of Thief K. Then, Galeb was guided right into Antonio’s path. The confusion made it easy—Galeb took the bait and ran with the Crown of Emmanuel. He’s going to feel that loss for a while.*

*Costs were acceptable.* Taking out the Shadow Ops and Grave Sifter grunts used up two units of ‘Stone.’ Recon ahead of time burned through a couple units of ‘Shadow.’ All in all, not too taxing.

*That’s the secret. Don’t throw yourself into the line of fire—make others do the heavy lifting. Use people like tools, and your Spiritual Energy stays intact.*

She leaned back, calculating what she had left.

**Cup:** 28
**Stone:** 9
**Shadow:** 20
**Lamp:** 4
**Silence:** 14
**Enlightenment:** 40

The Shadow came from her dwindling item stockpile. Just two more ‘Cup’ and ‘Shadow’ stored away. The shield-maiden from the Bureau of Secrecy had been generous, but the stash was running thin. Her casual tourist expenses in Ardrea had shaved off another £20—her remaining funds totaled £1,830.

She reached into her Magic Box, pulling free a small bag from its dimensional folds. Opening it, she laid the contents on the polished rosewood table—an array of chalices, jewelry, and trinkets, nearly all crafted in distinctive North Ufian styles.

The goods Nevius had nabbed—meant as gifts from Azam—were now spread out. Closing her eyes, Dorothy activated her Spiritual Sense, scanning for residual energies. Nothing responded. The item’s cooldown hadn’t passed. Mid-to-late March. Two more days to wait.

Patiently, she tucked everything back into the satchel and returned it to the Magic Box. Her next item was thicker—an artificially aged leather-bound tome etched in ancient symbols: her Sea Scrolls Navigation Record.

She flipped through gleaming city sketches and dreamlike architectural notes until she reached the page linked to Beverly. The comms shimmered faintly with dormant kinetic energy. She lifted her etched Council Sepia-Ink quill and began to write:

“Proposal: Galeb Grave-Sifter has breached standing accords. Violated terms outright. His Grave Sifter Society edges ever closer to cooperation with Gloom Gold Society actors. That proximity is, I imagine, unacceptable to your office, Beverly. There’s now a chance to deal serious harm to Galeb—possibly remove him entirely. At minimum, drain resources he can’t easily replace.”

“Given his breach, your hands are untied. I’m only asking for a small investment—ritual-grade catalysts for a practitioner in the ‘Silence’ domain. I’ll handle the fallout.”

She paused—then just as she prepared to close the record, neat, clinical writing appeared on the page.

“Clarify the opportunity. How, exactly?”

Dorothy’s thoughts raced. She responded:

“Not relevant. The window is brief. Accept or decline.”

“Requested materials?”

“Minimal. Just ritual-specific ingredients for lower-tier Silence practices. Maybe some unique botanical derivatives. Rare crystalline forms keyed to ambient frequencies. Nothing exotic.”

This opportunity had emerged naturally from the last operation’s energetic fallout. Since she already had leverage over Galeb, it would be foolish not to press it further. Rosicrucian doctrine demanded full value extraction from a compromised Type ‘III Leader.’ Letting it go to waste would be a lapse.

———

Later that day, far southeast of Ardrea—somewhere across the Conqueror Sea.

The small island had been torn apart. What was once untouched land was now a wreckage of shattered rock and snapped trees. Blood mixed with saltwater in the sand, the chaos of recent violence still heavy in the air.

At the center of it all lay Galeb, his body broken and unmoving, blood soaking the gritty shore. Not far away stood Archbishop Antonio, unmoved and silent, his garments shredded and stained. He clutched the Crown of Emmanuel in one hand, its intricate details catching the sea’s light. In the other hand—gripped carefully—was a soiled, pale card, its corner stained in blood.

His eyes fixed on the elegant script, muscles taut beneath ceramic-bound forearms. He studied the message.

“PER AGREEMENT: The ‘Crown of Emmanuel’! Inspected.

Impressive build; aesthetic structure resonates across multiple atmospheric threads, above 5.7 gradation marks. Ergonomics suitable, yet current applications render it non-essential. Recommendation: Archive for potential allies operating under marginal compatibility scenarios.

—Thief K”