Chapter 102
Chapter: 102
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>Translator: penny
>Chapter: 102
>Chapter Title: Ortona Civil War (1)
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Gael, the only son of Marquis Bertrand, a central noble of Ortona, had been sensitive to the flow of aura since childhood.
Even before formally learning aura cultivation methods, he could already sense the aura drifting through the air like the wind and breathe it in. Thanks to that, when he finally began cultivating, he formed the third layer of aura in one go, astonishing everyone around him.
To the young Gael, it was no big deal.
He had already reached the stage where he not only accepted and accumulated aura in his body but also keenly sensed the aura fluctuations emanating from the people and creatures around him.
From young and healthy people, he felt strong movements; from the old and sickly, weak ones. And soon, Gael discovered that these fluctuations subtly changed when people spoke or felt strong emotions.
It was a talent that would later earn him praise as the youngest sword master and a genius comparable to the legendary swordsman Banahas.
“You thieving cat! Where did you hide Madam’s earrings? Out with it!”
When he was still a child, an incident occurred where the marchioness’s jewelry was stolen.
The culprit pointed to was one of her personal maids—the youngest among them.
“No, Madam Gomez. I really have nothing to do with it!”
“You’re saying you didn’t steal Madam’s earrings? No one else could have touched them!”
“I swear to the Lord God, I’m innocent!”
The young Gael sensed anxious fluctuations coming from the maid who was shedding tears in front of the head maid.
Her claim of innocence was probably not true. Yet, at the same time, a strong resonance of sincerity emanated from her as she proclaimed her innocence.
He was confused.
Why? Even though she had stolen the earrings, why did she believe herself to be innocent?
Not long after, an investigation revealed that she had colluded with the manor guards to secretly sell the stolen earrings as stolen goods.
“Please! Just forgive me this once! My elderly mother is at home caring for my sick little sibling alone! If I’m dismissed, that child might die without treatment!”
“Drag her away already! What are you waiting for?”
“Please! You can’t do this to me! I’ve worked so hard for the marquisate all this time—you can’t treat me like this! Madam! Madam Gomez!”
The fluctuations from the maid, sobbing pitifully as she was dragged away by the capital guards, pierced his heart with their desperate sincerity.
She truly believed the marquisate’s actions were unjust and excessively harsh toward her.
Gael felt a melancholic mood as he received a part of her heartbroken feelings through those fluctuations.
Not long after she was imprisoned by the capital guards, rumors spread that her mother and sibling had died of illness. He thought it was truly tragic, but the young Gael soon forgot about her.
Then, a few months later, the woman released from prison returned to the marquisate’s main gate. She was gaunt and emaciated, her head shaven bald and unkempt.
In that wretched state, she charged at the marquisate’s guards, her eyes brimming with resentment.
“It’s all because of you! You filthy Bertands who threw me in prison and ignored my family! I curse you! I swear to my Lord God, I’ll demand the price of my mother and sibling’s lives from you in hell! Aaaah!”
Even as the capital guards who soon appeared dragged her away again, she didn’t stop her curses for a moment. Her venomous eyes were so ferocious that the guards transporting her flinched for an instant.
Watching the scene from inside the manor through a window, Gael vividly felt the resentful fluctuations emanating from her. She truly believed it was all the Marquis Bertrand’s fault, and she was cursing them with all her heart.
Gael turned to his nanny, Juana, who was sitting in his room doing embroidery, and asked.
“Juana. Is that woman telling the truth? Is all her misfortune really our family’s fault?”
The nanny snorted without even lifting her eyes from her embroidery.
“Of course not. There’s no need for you to heed the words of such wretches, young master. Why would a thief blame the righteous marquisate? It’s because she was rotten from the start that the Lord God gave her the fitting punishment.”
If the price for stealing earrings was her mother and sibling’s lives, wasn’t that too heavy? And why did her family bear the Lord God’s punishment in her place?
Gael was curious, but the fluctuations from the nanny were also utterly sincere. She firmly believed the maid had received the punishment she deserved.
What the young Gael realized then was that most people always spoke with some degree of sincerity.
It was just that their sincerity wasn’t always the truth, or it soon changed into another sincerity.
And that mistaken sincerity wasn’t entirely the fault of the person saying it.
Perhaps that was when he began trying to understand and listen to most of what people said.
Years passed, and Gael entered the Royal Academy, where noble children primarily studied. There, he met Prince Benicio, who would become his lifelong friend.
Unlike his peers, who were still at the squire level, Gael already possessed the skills of a mid-level knight upon enrollment, making him the envy of the entire academy.
There were more than enough people eager to build connections with Ortona’s future strongest sword and the young heir to the marquisate. Prince Benicio was one of them.
“I believe someone as outstanding as you should lead this country forward.”
The prince was a bright and likable young man, and surprisingly, despite being of royal blood, he supported the republicans. He mingled with radical commoner-born academy professors and a few noble students who agreed with them, gradually becoming the new focal point of the academy republicans.
“Everyone says I became a republican because I’m the second prince, distant from power. But that’s not true. I love my country. I act solely based on what I think will bring a better future to Ortona.”
Gael could sense faint unstable fluctuations in his words without filter. Part of what Benicio said wasn’t true.
Of course, he couldn’t tell if it was truly a lie or if Benicio himself harbored slight doubts about his own words.
“It’s a question many philosophers have pondered for ages. Is it right for a nation to be ruled solely by an absolute monarch? No need to look far. Our monarch is already becoming a puppet of the royalists, and the merchant alliance and noble council are turning into invincible institutions even the monarch alone can’t control.”
The young prince, not yet thirty, furrowed his brow like an adult and continued.
“Then what is a nation that will never fail? Listening to more people’s opinions and moving the country flawlessly with multiple voices—that is a republic. I believe realizing the republican vision will lead Ortona in a better direction.”
Gael quietly watched Prince Benicio’s face as he gazed into the distance with shining eyes. From the prince’s words, imagining his homeland’s glorious future as the first on the continent to nurture a republic, only pure emotions of love for the country and sincere truth emanated.
His truth might one day crash against the wall of reality and cease to be truth. But the passion Prince Benicio showed now was strong and pure enough to inspire all the academy republicans.
So, as he always did, Gael decided to believe the person speaking sincerely before him.
And afterward, Gael indeed made great contributions to establishing Ortona’s republic, ultimately becoming the last sword of the republican remnants, who were pushed to ruin by the royalists colluding with foreign powers.
* * *
“At this rate, we’re all finished! We must tell Count Castiya to open the pass now!”
“That’s an unreasonable demand. Isn’t retreating not a single step from the Andres Plain the condition the count demanded in exchange for supplies? We’re not like the royalists. We won’t force open neutral territories.”
“That’s idealism, Prince Benicio! Don’t you see? If we don’t secure Castiya Fortress right now, this Andres Plain will become the republicans’ grave!”
“Impossible! And this isn’t idealism—it’s reality. Do you think Count Castiya will just sit by and watch us reach the fortress?”
“But without securing the fortress…!”
This is endless.
Gael sighed and exited the command tent.
The Ortona Civil War.
The republican remnants, who had retreated time and again, sought to secure the naturally fortified Castiya Fortress as a bridgehead for counterattack.
However, Count Castiya, who maintained surface neutrality, didn’t want his fertile territory—through which the royalist army would have to pass to reach the fortress—trampled by the civil war.
Thus, on the condition that the republican forces didn’t retreat from the distant Andres Plain, he provided small amounts of military supplies and food while thoroughly locking the pass to his territory.
It had now been nearly three months since the republicans set up camp on the Andres Plain.
Since then, the republican leadership, stuck unable to advance or retreat, had split into two factions in sharp conflict.
They should charge into Castiya territory now and seize the fortress. No, they should break through the plain’s front lines instead and escape the defensive.
Well, to Gael, neither seemed very feasible.
As he walked, fiddling habitually with Arjuna’s hilt, a child’s voice came from one corner of the mercenary corps’ tents.
“Then, brother, is the Duke of Rediano on our side?”
Gael stopped.
The voice belonged to Kike, Prince Benicio’s young son. Why was he all the way at the mercenary tents?
Soon, a quiet reply followed.
“He’s royalist to the bone. If he offers to help, he’s already prepared to stab us in the back.”
“Then, brother, what about Count Millo? He’s the patron who sent the Astros Mercenary Corps here. Is he on our side?”
“He’s on the side of the merchant alliance. The alliance has long been favorable to the royalists, so we can’t be optimistic about him.”
“Aw! Why doesn’t anyone support us?”
“…….”
Gael was startled by those words for two reasons.
First, it was rare for foreign mercenaries to speak Ortonan. Even strategy meetings were conducted in the imperial common tongue.
Second, and more importantly, the reply to a child was far too blunt.
“Brother, what about the Marcher Count of Laquella….”
Gael listened to their conversation for a bit longer before turning away.
Kike, still clumsy with the imperial common tongue, had somehow made a friend in the mercenary corps. It was a pity that all they did was pore over the list of patrons.
That evening.
Gael visited Prince Benicio’s tent and asked Kike who he had been with during the day. The child beamed and said.
“It was Bart from the Astros Mercenary Corps. He speaks Ortonan.”
Kike proudly held out a crumpled piece of paper and added an explanation.
“So I asked him about these people, and he taught me all about them.”
When Gael unfolded the paper, it listed patrons’ names in childish scrawl. He must have remembered the adults’ conversations and organized them in his own way. Kike took after his father, Prince Benicio, and had a clever side.
“…….”
And regrettably, most names were crossed out.
Seeing the list reflect the republican remnants’ current plight so starkly, Gael felt bitter.
“But not everything he says is correct. At least Castiya is neutral, young master Kike.”
When he pointed to one crossed-out name in the middle, Kike tilted his head.
“Huh? No, General Gael. He definitely said that.”
And the child continued clearly, facing Gael, accompanied by the most unwavering fluctuations of truth.
“Brother Bart said Castiya is definitely the enemy.”