Chapter 165
Chapter 165
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: EP. 39 – The Two Men Go All the Way (7)
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The palace where Sultan Salakh was currently residing was the one reserved for royal guests from foreign nations.
It was equipped with vast facilities that could accommodate hundreds of people, along with every possible convenience, befitting the treatment shown to such honored visitors.
...However, at this moment, no one could even think of using those facilities, and for good reason.
"Guhhh...!"
"Sultan, please endure just a little longer. The bleeding will stop soon. Ah, or perhaps use a potion right now..."
"N-no! A potion can't restore my lost ear!"
How could they enjoy such luxuries when their master was writhing in agony?
They should be trembling in fear that their heads might roll at any moment instead.
"B-but, Sultan..."
"E-enough! Get that away!"
"...As you command."
Who would dare defy such an order?
The healer retreated, unable to hide his despair.
"...Damn it all!"
Salakh, who never uttered vulgar curses under normal circumstances, couldn't hold back now without spewing them out.
His wound still throbbed, burning like fire.
One ear had been sliced off as if torn, yet it wasn't stitched, nor treated with medicine or potions, so the pain was inevitable.
At least the bleeding had stopped, thanks to the western medical techniques that delayed the flow of blood.
But this was only a temporary measure; his complexion worsened by the minute.
"Those filthy Sun God Temple bastards..."
Crunch!
If he wanted his ear healed, he could simply ask the priests who followed the Light of Radiance for help, but the Sultan was in a position where he absolutely could not accept aid from another faith.
The West was a continent rife with the Sun God Faith, which rivaled the Light of Radiance, and the Sultan was hailed as the "offspring of the Sun God" and even his "proxy."
This made believing in any other religion besides the Sun God a virtual taboo for westerners.
It wasn't just insulting the Sun God; it could be misinterpreted as harboring "treasonous thoughts" against the Sultan himself.
Such strict doctrines were inevitable, as religion was the perfect tool for kings to safeguard their legitimacy and authority.
It was a nation where the "divine right of kings" was taken as gospel.
Thus, faiths from other continents, like the Light of Radiance, were naturally suppressed in the West. To westerners, it was a heretical cult, a horde of pagans that could never be tolerated.
Especially...
"Gah!"
"Sultan, instead of this, shouldn't we head to the temple...?"
"No. Absolutely not. The moment I receive healing from heretics, my authority crumbles!"
"...Sultan."
"Urgh!"
The Sultan could never accept treatment from the Light of Radiance.
He was the proxy and bloodline of the Sun God.
For those with such pride to seek healing from pagans after suffering injury?
Unthinkable.
If word got out that one of the Sultans had been healed by a pagan priest, his royal authority would be shaken to its roots.
The people would rise up immediately, claiming he was no true offspring of the god and sparking rebellion.
"When are those Sun God Temple priests arriving?"
"...They've just crossed the border."
"Arrogant vermin! They could've come sooner but dragged their feet!"
"......"
"Insolent fools! Disgusting scum...!!"
The Sun God Temple.
They served the Sun God and were supposed to tend to the body of the Sultan, the Sun God's proxy on earth. Yet currently, the Sun God Temple and Salakh were at odds.
The temple priests had long coveted a position above the Sultan, while he yearned to crush them all beneath his heel.
It was only natural their relationship was strained; they didn't even accompany him on trips abroad.
And now, the gravely wounded Sultan remained untreated.
He could have had the healers stitch his torn ear and wounds, but even with divine power, regeneration would be difficult.
Considering the rules that the Sultan must be free of "physical defects" or "mental impairments," his injury was fatal.
It wasn't the pain that mattered; it was grounds enough to dethrone him.
'Things have gotten royally screwed!'
...Crunch!
Who would have thought he'd suffer such a blow from Pendragon?
'Who the hell...!'
Salakh couldn't believe his attackers were assassins.
Crows might be ruthless, but they never abandoned or betrayed contracts lightly.
If they did, they'd have been wiped out from the West long ago.
Nor did it make sense for another Sultan to target him.
All Sultans knew maintaining the status quo was best.
Therefore...
'It means someone from Pendragon attacked me...'
...Daring to target him, no less.
Though Salakh had struck first, that was irrelevant.
Inflicting a wound on the Sultan's sacred body, the proxy of the Sun God, was a crime warranting boiling in sulfur—not that he had any intention of forgiving his attackers.
"...Salman, if we deploy my proud soldiers waiting near the border, how long until they reach Pendragon?"
"S-Sultan? You don't mean...!?"
"They need to know what it means to touch a Sultan, the bloodline of the Sun God—me!"
"......"
Salman couldn't hide his despair at the sight of Sultan Salakh, who seemed to have lost his reason.
He didn't resemble the rational, astute lord of old.
Yet Salman ground his teeth upon seeing his master's missing ear.
'This is all because of those who dared attack us!'
His own missing arm was no great issue, but to mar the noble sacred body...
An unforgivable sin, and Salman fully understood his master's fury.
Like master, like servant—what else could they be?
Beasts in human guise.
Any knight witnessing these two would have judged them thus.
Beasts lived by instinct alone, and those rabid with disease like rabies couldn't be reasoned with.
Thus...
"-You forget your place. Even if I spare you, there are limits. Yet you keep crawling higher without end."
"!!?"
"Wh-who's there!"
Salman hastily drew his sword.
Even with one arm gone, he was still a master swordsman, unleashing a sharp aura as he aimed at the sudden intruder.
Clack, clack.
...Yet despite his blade trained on her, the intruder advanced boldly under the moonlight.
Graceful steps.
Each time the moonlight illuminated her, her already radiant silver hair shimmered with halos, and her haughty eyes gleamed brilliantly.
"Y-you...?!"
Recognizing her, Salman recoiled in horror.
A familiar face.
The first woman he'd seen upon entering the kingdom, and the one with the noblest status in the land.
"...What insolence is this? Does Pendragon's heir lack even basic courtesy for a state guest? Princess Isis."
Isis Irene de Pendragon.
The kingdom's heir, proudly holding the top spot in the line of succession.
Her beauty, comparable to a goddess or angel, brightened the surroundings upon her arrival, evoking the illusion of stepping into a fairy tale.
Had she not appeared so abruptly, even Salakh might have welcomed her.
He did love beauty, after all.
But the timing couldn't have been worse.
How much worse?
"Hmph. Even after confirming my face, you still brandish that blade."
"...I know it's rude, but consider it standard protocol against an intruder, Princess."
The atmosphere was murderous enough to contemplate annihilation.
A blade radiating killing intent.
Any ordinary lady would tremble and pale before it, but she was no ordinary lady.
She remained utterly composed.
And went even further.
"How insolent. In court etiquette, you address me as 'Crown Princess,' not just 'Princess.' This is why western barbarians are..."
"...You dare insult the Sultan?!"
She provoked them.
Barbarians.
The term belittled the Sultan as well.
Enraged, Salman raised his sword higher...
[I never permitted you to open your mouth.]
Whoosh!
"!!?"
Thud. Salman dropped to his knees.
"...Salman?"
"......"
He couldn't even respond to the Sultan's call.
...His vision was blood-red.
"...Huh?"
Salman realized blood was gushing from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth.
Yet strangely, he felt no sensation.
Blood sprayed like a fountain, but no pain.
"You should have known what it means to point a sword at me. For a lowly cur like you, ignorant of grace, honor, or etiquette, this is what happens when you dare insolence. Know your place."
Isis berated the fallen Salman.
She never spared those who directed hostility at her.
If she did, they needed the qualifications and honor to earn it—neither of which this barbarian possessed.
...Not even as a warrior worthy of respect.
"Wh-what did you do to Salman, Princess Isis!"
Salakh shouted urgently.
It was natural to panic seeing his loyal guard dying in a pool of blood.
But she...
"I thought you foolish, but this foolish? I now doubt if you're truly a ruler of a nation."
She looked down on him with contempt.
How could he be so stupid? How so narrow-sighted?
"Instead of asking why that insolent fool ended up like that, you should have asked why no one came to rescue you despite my entering this palace. You foolish cur."
"Wha...?"
"Doesn't the silence around us feel too eerie?"
"......"
"Finally realizing it, are you? Pathetic."
"...Wh-what have you done!"
"You should have asked that first. How dim-witted."
His endless foolishness stirred not irritation but pity now.
Not for the beast himself, of course.
But for the people suffering under such a beast's rule...
Snap.
Salakh continued bellowing something, but feeling no need for conversation, she flicked her finger.
In that instant.
"Gahk...?!"
Salakh convulsed, dry-heaving.
Just like his guard moments before.
Drip, drip!
Blood poured from Salakh, but Isis merely sat gracefully on a chair.
"Insolent wretch. Not content with coveting Pendragon's secrets, you allied with filthy mages and even hired assassins to attack our cadets..."
"Guhhh...!"
"I hear you've hidden soldiers near the border too? How absurd. What gall to attack Pendragon? Ah, did you think us weak?"
"......!!"
"Such wronged eyes. Are you thinking something trite like, 'If I die, the Sultanate and Pendragon will war—how will they handle that?'"
"!!"
"Unnecessary worry. My sworn brother lived up to expectations, capturing the illegal mage alive. It won't be hard to drape your skin over someone else."
"!!!?!"
Salakh writhed silently, unable even to scream.
But harder than the pain was the notion of his skin being flayed.
No way...!!
He glared at Isis with bulging eyes, and for the first time, she smiled.
...A cold sneer icier than a glacier.
"Thanks to your foolishness. Now the entire Sultanate falls into my hands. Worry not; I'll care for it diligently. Your people will be happy too—far more than under your rule, I promise."
"N-no... I ab...sol...ute...ly...!"
...Salakh flailed desperately.
As if he could never allow it.
The great offspring of the Sun God, losing his nation to dragon blood?
But,
"I need no permission from you."
She was resolute.
"Farewell, foolish Sultan."
With that quiet declaration, she left the palace.
As leisurely as when she first appeared.
"──!"
Bloodshot eyes reached for her, but Salakh's hand fell futilely, never touching her.
'I... who did I make my enemy...?'
For the first time, Salakh felt 'regret.'
One he should never have turned into an enemy.
One he should never have touched...
Too late, he realized the wrath of the dragon.
...Far too late.
Clack, clack.
"......"
Isis walked bathed in moonlight.
She could have ridden a horse or carriage back to her palace, but tonight, she felt like walking a bit.
Not some sentimental shift from the blood on her hands.
She'd spilled countless times before; no reason to grow soft now.
She simply wanted to walk.
...A very simple reason.
Whoosh.
Then, an elderly butler approached her leisurely.
"Did you kill him?"
"...You ask that before checking my safety."
"Hoho, I'm sure Your Highness handled it fine."
"...Impudent."
"Haha."
Albert.
Her man, yet one she couldn't command.
Isis found his tardy arrival after the deed annoying.
"Sigh, not yet. So much information to extract—why waste him?"
"Haha, as expected of Your Highness. Truly the villain of villains."
"...Can't deny a true statement."
"Hoho."
She never denied her actions.
Even if the foe committed evils, mirroring them made her evil too.
No retort to being called a villain.
But if villainy, better first-rate than third-rate.
At least for her.
"I shall become an exemplary 'great villain.'"
"Haha, looking forward to it."
"Hmph!"
She snorted at the butler's cheekiness.
His inscrutable nature made even the laugh seem feigned to her.
Then.
"By the way, why is Your Highness alone? Sir Lee Han wouldn't miss such an event."
"......"
"Your Highness...?"
"...Haa..."
"?"
A casual question, but at her sworn brother's name, Isis's prior chill and poise vanished, replaced by a sigh.
Her sworn brother.
Handled tasks well, diligent despite appearances, yet somehow...
"If only his hatred for mages lessened."
"...Hoho, I see where he went."
"Haa..."
Isis pinched her brow and shook her head.
"-Hm?"
...His ear itched fiercely.
The knight scratched it, frowning as if dust had built up.
"What filthy thing are you doing?"
"You're just as dirty, so shut it."
"...Being lumped with you pisses me off."
"You're always raging like a madman anyway."
"......Draw your sword."
"Run instead of fighting—why bother drawing?"
"...!!"
The knight decided to tease his companion and forget the itch for now.
His targets for curses were limited anyway, and probably...
'Big Sis.'
She'd been utterly baffled by his report, so her cursing him was understandable.
'Scoldings can wait.'
Lee Han focused on the immediate goal.
"...How much farther do we have?"
"......You're truly hopeless. Trying to reach the 'Magic Tower' without knowing the way."
"Just to the Empire, right? We'll manage somehow."
"......That's why it's absurd."
The companion shook his head.
And rightly so.
"'6000 miles' in four days—do you think that's possible?"
It was Rak, the guide Duke Galahad had assigned, speaking. Lee Han bristled, furrowing his brow.
This guy—
"Say miles in km, you punk...!"
Fear the pound and yard next.