Chapter 44: Turning Point

“Sir Clemens! What on earth happened here!”

“…My apologies.”

Faced with Francis’s fierce anger, the holy knight simply bowed his head.

“All you’ve been saying since earlier is excuses! What were you doing while Sir Tyrang was dying?”

“Prince Glenn Lepent requested a duel, and Sir Tyrang accepted it. As you know, no third party may interfere in a duel between knights.”

A knight challenging another knight to a duel is regarded as a sacred ritual.

Usually, it is initiated by the act of casting off one’s armor, and it is a way for the parties involved to resolve their disputes physically.

Unlike a general fight, since life or death is at stake, it is much more dangerous—and desperate.

Of course, unless it is on the battlefield, cases where the opponent actually dies are rare.

“Dammit—!”

Francis, unable to contain his rage, slammed the table.

“Then why the hell did you just let that bastard go? Why didn’t you capture him immediately?”

“Master, your order to me was to ‘assist Captain Tyrang in suppressing the chaos inside the plaza.’ Have you forgotten?”

“No—are you seriously using that as an excuse now?”

“I’m sorry, but I was simply following your commands.”

…Hoo—

Francis let out a long sigh.

…It’s already happened. Now is the time to think about the next move.

What I thought was a golden opportunity turned into a blow instead.

Hasn’t the alliance between Isabelle and that scoundrel become stronger? Everything went completely against what I expected.

Not just this frustrating knight in front of me—but why on earth would Tyrang handle things so stupidly?

It should have been a duel or a fight from the start!

And if possible, the ordinary citizens and worshippers in the square should have been hurt.

That way, it would have been much easier to incite the masses.

Naturally, it would have given a clear justification to himself.

“…Damn it.”

But what do we have now?

Nothing but a vague and questionable justification.

On top of that, we lost a loyal knight.

Sffx chhk, Hoo—

Francis lit a cigarette with a sigh.

Though this is not a low-class tavern, he couldn’t care less at the moment.

He raised a finger and summoned his aide.

“Immediately release a statement condemning the matter under my name. That the rogue of House Lepent who sided with the royal family killed a knight who served the goddess. Make sure the worshippers can hear it, and make it as fast as possible. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And inform the inquisitors that the number of heretics is insufficient. They’ll get the message.”

“…Are you considering an all-out war?”

“It’s already begun. Time is of the essence, so execute it swiftly! Oh, and any word from the 7th Legion yet?”

He had already sent more than three letters personally.

Yet, not a single reply came.

“Yes, we continue to send letters, but…”

With a blunt answer, Francis flared up quietly.

“Hmph, is it pride that’s holding them back?”

As if he were some stubborn old man, still clinging to his own ideals.

Now is not the time to be picky about such things.

“All right, go quickly and get it done.”

The aide bowed his head immediately and left the room.

Yes, the justification itself is something he can create as he pleases.

After all, he holds the highest stake at this table.

“Ha, I should have just done this from the start…”

At the very least, this was the most peaceful and religious method, but the situation is out of control.

If I had known things would unfold this way, I would have pushed forward even if it caused some backlash.

“Sir Clemens.”

Whoosh

The sound of a fan brushed Clemens’s face.

But he didn’t even blink.

“Yes, sir. I am at your command.”

“This time, you’ve really disappointed me. I don’t know if you truly intend to carry out the goddess’s will.”

“…I’m sorry.”

“Stay close for the time being. And seriously reflect on what your duty is.”

“Understood.”

Waving his hand as if he could no longer bear to look at him, Francis gave a clear dismissal.

Turning his back, Clemens muttered softly.

A reprimand spoken quietly so no one else could hear.

“Those who forget their duty and mock her will—that is you, Francis.”

A flame of fury began to ignite in Clemens’s eyes.

***

After the massive first clash in the plaza, Francis continued to issue daily statements condemning the royal family and Glenn.

The royal family has no intention of suppressing the chaos in the capital.

Far from suppressing it, they brutally killed innocent worshippers and the knight serving the goddess.

Captain Tyrang of the Ryuten Knights was murdered by barbarians.

They claimed it was an honorable duel and used the return of the rest of the Ryuten members as proof, but that was not true.

The successor of that disgusting barbarian nation humiliated the naive Captain Tyrang and murdered him in a cowardly manner.

This is the truth.

Worshippers, rise up!

Heretics in the city threaten the goddess!

Let us overcome this dark gloom and welcome a brilliant dawn!

Roughly these words of condemnation and incitement echoed throughout the city.

The clash between the fanatical zealots driving out heretics and those opposing them grew wider and more intense.

Naturally, the city’s innocent citizens caught in the middle faced increasing death.

“Hmph, Francis is quite impatient.”

A middle-aged man read the letter.

Though his carriage appeared expensive, it was not a magic carriage.

That was simply his preference.

Having spent much time in a carriage since childhood, he felt more comfortable in a non-magical one.

Or rather—familiar.

He occasionally tried riding the magic carriage his daughter recommended, but never felt quite at ease.

Moreover, he distrusted magical artifacts in general.

Growing older, those feelings only intensified.

“Is this all the letter says? No other message?”

His gaze shifted from the letter to the knight before him.

The knight’s tense demeanor from earlier was unsatisfactory.

He was said to be Princess Isabelle’s bodyguard—but clearly lacking good judgment.

“Whatever the princess is plotting, she needs to make a decision quickly…”

“Hmph, still looking for my father? How childish. One must take care of their own affairs.”

“What should I tell her?”

“Just relay what I said. She’ll get the gist.”

The knight bowed quickly and disappeared.

Pondering over the letter’s content, a thought crossed his mind.

“Puruka.”

In a low voice, a neatly dressed man quietly entered the carriage.

“Did you come, Contrat?”

“Yes. Have you learned more about that Glenn fellow?”

“It’s still ongoing, but…”

Puruka’s eyes briefly rested on the letter inside the carriage.

A fairly familiar—refined handwriting caught his attention.

“Did Princess Isabelle mention anything?”

“Yes. It impressed her that the daughter lives quite luxuriously.”

The Republic of Lepent’s heir, and the infamous rogue of House Lepent.

But recent rumors sound very different.

A bloodthirsty murderer who enjoys dissecting people and sucking their blood.

Probably a tale spread by enemies along the border.

Lastly, the stories from the Panario Viscount House are different still.

Even during the capture of the Viscount’s assailant, the servants were left untouched.

“…That’s all for now.”

“—‘A knight with the ability to understand political language, a troublesome figure on the battlefield, slightly impulsive but definitely useful.’… What do you think?”

“Is that the princess’s assessment? Quite generous.”

“Yes. I don’t remember the last time she didn’t call him ‘stupid.’”

The middle-aged man called Puruka lowered his eyes slightly and tapped his hand with a finger.

A thinking habit.

“If the princess’s words are true, then his coming here was no coincidence. Perhaps he wants cooperation—to resist the empire together.”

A faint smile tugged at Contrat’s lips.

“Yes, this guy seems to think like me. Still a green kid, though.”

Then he pointed at a section of Isabelle’s letter and passed it over.

Puruka’s eyes widened slightly as he read quickly.

“Lepent, Arian, dragging Lebanov to the table—to play their game between the first and second princes… this is quite something.”

“A decent idea. I thought similarly myself.”

More precisely, Contrat had not considered involving Lepent or Lebanov.

His plan was simply to strengthen Arian’s stature to balance the power between the first and second princes.

To think these fools like Lepent made such a flexible move…

Interest flickered in Contrat’s eyes but quickly faded.

There were other priorities now.

“Let’s keep an eye on him for now. Has our lord arrived yet?”

“I was just about to say that. He’s waiting outside now.”

“Oh dear, we can’t keep a precious lord waiting. Go out and greet him at once.”

A precious lord.

Few would express it that way about Arian’s sovereign.

But this guest was more than worthy.

After all the trouble spent acquiring the card, he naturally deserved it.

Leaving the noisy crowd and rioters in the plaza untouched was ultimately for this.

A smile bloomed on Contrat’s lips.

***

An elderly man sat with his knees crossed.

Though old, his body looked remarkably strong.

His taut muscles seemed visible even outside his light leather armor.

“I bow to the lord of Arian.”

His iron-like gaze held Contrat spellbound.

At that moment, he had a strong intuition.

Yes, this is a true knight.

Swallowing a small gasp inside, he hurried forward and clasped the old man’s hand.

Changing his expression to a practiced smile.

“Oh, the day I see you in person has come! Quickly, rise up!”

His expression was genuinely joyful—no, overwhelmed with emotion.

Seeing that, the old man’s eyes reddened.

“…I am truly grateful for your welcome. A wretched man driven from place to place, I don’t know if I deserve such hospitality.”

“Oh, what nonsense is that! Where do you see wretchedness in you? Your body remains strong and your gaze sharp as steel—that is the very image of a knight I have heard of!”

“Your words humble me.”

“Ha ha, oh my, it seems our lord was not alone after all.”

Behind the old man were dozens of young men and women.

Though bearing many injuries and wearing tattered clothes, to Contrat they were like jewels.

When he looked their way, all kneeled simultaneously.

“I bow to the lord of Arian!”

“We serve Lord Contrat!”

Suppressing a smile, Contract wore a solemn expression.

“You have traveled far and endured much. Arian truly welcomes you all with all sincerity.”

Expressions drenched in emotion.

It felt as if all their suffering and hardships had finally been rewarded.

Falsely accused, they had journeyed from the capital to the northern empire.

Then from the northern empire back to Arian.

How arduous that journey must have been.

How pitiable was the fugitive lord running from packs of wolves.

That would never happen again.

“Lord Contrat, the knights of the Mesui Sect, including myself, stand ready to serve our new lord.”

“Ha ha, I thank you all. Even tears might fall at your loyalty. For now, rest is the priority. I have prepared carriages; everyone shall proceed to the royal palace.”

“…Thank you for your kindness. I shall never forget this grace.”

The old man—no, Democleon Luch.

Leader of the Mesui Sect and head of the Rusche Family.

Disgraced for speaking directly to the emperor, falsely accused and exiled to the northern empire as commander of the 7th Legion.

“Ha ha, I too shall never forget that you placed your trust in me.”

And the “Iron-Clad Knight” by name,

Swordmaster of the empire.

The knights of the Mesui Sect under his command—

24 Sword Beginners, 17 Users, 6 Experts, 2 Owners, and 1 Master—a total of 52.

From the empire,

A massive defection to the Kingdom of Arian.

“Today is truly a joyous day, ha ha!”

Once this is over… he will truly become the lord of Arian.

Yes, an absolute lord whom no one dares interfere with.

In Contrat’s eyes flicker ambition and greed.