The Divorce of Count and Countess Hogus (1)

The Imperial calendar meant nothing.

In this universe, the only thing that mattered was people. History began with those who walked on two feet and worked with two hands, and a knight did not stoop to speak of Imperial years.

So it was. The Imperial calendar was of no importance. All that mattered was who ate, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and who was eaten.

KWAANG!!

Steel sheared away, and the hull bucked. Screams rose, and gazes shot through with terror crossed in the dark.

The outer hull of the Sun Church pilgrim ship Venus was torn open. A pirate vessel forced a docking, and metal gaped wide into a hideous maw.

"Hand over everything you've got!"

"Aaaah!"

Chaos spilled into a living hell. Amid the merciless plunder trampling clergy and pilgrims alike, one pirate seized a terrified girl by the hair.

"Ain't I lucky! This one's mine!"

"P-please, spare me!"

"Who said anything about killing you? Do as you're told and I'll let you live! I'll even do you a kindness while I'm at it!"

RIIIP!

The girl's clothes tore. Pale skin showed, and the pirate's eyes flushed red. At the sight of him, she dropped her head as if she had already given up.

"That is far enough."

A voice rang out in that instant—calm and heavy, a voice that had no place on a battlefield.

"Inadmissible."

"What?"

"I said it is inadmissible!"

The man, Laurent, drove his fist forward.

WHUD!

There was no physical contact. An intangible shockwave leapt the space between them and smashed into the pirate's face.

"Wh-what was that? What did you just do!"

The other pirates froze as they watched their comrade sail off in a bloody heap. Laurent drew his fist back, his expression solemn.

"Behold. This is the Fist."

"What?!"

THWACK!!

A second shockwave split the air, and another pirate slammed into the bulkhead, likewise reduced to a bloody pulp.

"......"

"......"

With two pirates down, a chill silence settled over a place that had been in uproar only moments before. It was not a silence that would last.

"What kind of lunatic raises hell in another man's place of business!"

With the bellow came a force larger than the advance party. At their center stood a vicious-looking pirate captain.

"Strike the men, and their captain shows himself."

"You?"

"Indeed. I am Laurent. As expected, you know me."

"......"

At that declaration the pirate captain's face went blank. How was he supposed to recognize a man he was seeing for the first time today? Laurent, however, spared not a thought for the captain's circumstances.

"A true knight is revered by friend and foe alike! Come! Count it an honor to cross blades with me!"

Laurent spoke with a rigid face. His voice swelled as though he were proud of the man he was in this moment, but his true feelings belonged in a gutter.

Outwardly, a model knight. Inwardly, a small-time commoner to the bone. Laurent was a man whose outside and inside did not match.

It had not been by choice. A victim who had been hurled without warning into a game, he had simply been devoured by the Chivalry trait he himself had chosen.

Some suffered because their thoughts spilled out exactly as they were. Laurent suffered without end because his thoughts emerged only after passing through a filter.

"Who the hell is that bastard?"

"Dunno, boss."

The pirates fell to fretting. However they looked at him, this Laurent seemed to have a few screws loose. A man whose mind was off would not listen, and a man who would not listen could not be bargained with. They were worried some needless damage might follow.

"Hm?"

In that instant the pirate captain's eyes locked onto Laurent's waist—just as Laurent, anticipating a decisive duel, seized the cylinder bound at his hip.

VMMMM!

Superheated plasma burst from the cylinder. The crimson particles thrashed wild, then drew together into the shape of a sword.

"A-a lightsaber!"

"What's an Imperial Knight doing in a place like this...!"

The pirates' faces went the color of ash. A single lightsaber had been enough for them to grasp who he was.

An Imperial Knight. A human weapon, each one possessing the might of a hundred men.

Unease spread at the mere fact of Laurent. If the sight before them was no illusion, they were as good as dead.

"Wait! Let's talk this out! We'll pay for everything we broke! And the medical fees! If anyone's hurt, we'll cover their treatment too! So please!!"

The pirate captain flung himself flat on his face. The moment he saw the lightsaber, he ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tucked his tail like a beaten dog.

In the meantime the crew of the Venus checked for casualties, taking stock with care from the clergy down to the last of the pilgrims.

And then—

"Um, Sir Knight?"

"What is the matter. I am occupied."

"No one has died."

"I said I was occu—! What did you say?"

"I said that no one has died."

"Then what of the injured?"

"A few people fell while fleeing and scraped themselves."

Laurent looked around. The girl who had nearly been assaulted had already retreated some distance, and the two pirates he had sent flying in bloody heaps were on their knees in an attitude of repentance. The captain rubbed his hands together as he begged forgiveness, and the rest laid down their arms and made gestures of peace.

"Pathetic."

Contempt filled his gaze. It was a genteel rebuke of the evils they had committed, but his true thoughts were nothing of the sort.

Should I just cut them all down? He looks a hell of a lot like the boss who skimmed my paycheck.

His real heart could not pierce the filter. A possessor eaten alive by his own persona... Laurent despaired at the wretched perk that came with possession.

"Sir Knight! Please, spare us!"

The pirate captain clutched the cuff of Laurent's trousers, thrashing because he did not want to be sliced apart by a lightsaber.

Resist, and it's a dog's death—but surrender, and at least we get a trial!

The captain turned it over in his own way. He was hoping Laurent would accept their surrender.

"Very well! As you repent your sins in earnest, I shall overlook them this once!"

"Thank you!"

Laurent accepted the surrender. The Chivalry trait held an honorable capitulation to be a virtue.

Damn this Chivalry!

Inwardly his face crumpled, but outwardly there was no knight more knightly. He had swept the pirates aside and still could not collect so much as a lawful fee. Laurent was sick to death of losing himself to Chivalry.

Chivalry! I will tear you out if it is the last thing I do!

Where no one could see, Laurent ground his teeth.

The Holy Grail.

An item within the game, said to grant any single wish. Laurent—once Youth A, an ordinary young man of twenty-first-century South Korea—had become a knight because of the Holy Grail.

Coming home from work as usual and settling in to enjoy his game, he had gathered every Holy Grail Fragment, completed the Grail, and made a wish half in jest.

I just want to quit my job and still be able to eat! Please, let me flex for once!

The wish was granted in the form of possession. Quitting, of course, had been accomplished, and making a living was no trouble either.

A knight was a special civil servant, paid a salary by the government of the Galactic Empire. On ordinary days, with nothing to do, he was idler than anyone—but when war came, his was the life that had to die first.

For a knight, there was no such thing as retirement. Unless he was gravely wounded or lost his abilities, he was bound to military service for life.

"This is no man. It is a slave, and nothing more."

Laurent muttered it in his quarters. Ever since the filter had taken hold of his words and deeds, he had fallen into the habit of talking to himself. He strove to overcome it by his own will, but his original manner of speech still would not return.

"Hmm... how troublesome."

In his heart he hurled every curse he knew, yet what came out of his mouth was nothing if not genteel. It was, quite literally, a troublesome situation.

"Sir Knight. Are you within?"

"Enter."

The door opened, and a man appeared. He was the captain of the pilgrim ship Venus.

"What business brings you?"

"The matter has been settled, so I came to inform you."

The captain began to lay out what had followed. The space pirates Laurent had captured had been handed over to the interstellar security force.

"Thank you, Sir Knight."

The captain bowed his head. Since Laurent had subdued the pirates, this was already the dozenth expression of gratitude.

"It was no matter of consequence."

"To my eyes, it was a difficult decision."

The captain looked at Laurent with open admiration. He knew that knights were the sort who, once they drew a lightsaber, were bound to cut something. For such a knight to draw his blade and still reach so mild a decision—he could not help but marvel.

"We will shortly arrive at Kaidal-4."

"Is that so. Then the hour of parting has come."

Laurent spoke calmly. The captain, by contrast, looked somehow regretful.

"I will not forget this grace."

"There is no need."

With that, Laurent left his quarters. He was nothing more than a traveler who had paid his fare to ride the Venus.

"Hmm..."

His steps halted on a low groan. Having arrived at the space colony Kaidal-4, Laurent had just set foot in the plaza of the city district.

The place where the resonance of a Holy Grail Fragment—something he had chanced to sense days before—still lingered was none other than this Kaidal-4. Laurent's Chivalry trait could detect a fragment within a certain distance.

But that was as far as it went.

"For the present, I cannot tell."

It seemed certain the fragment was somewhere on Kaidal-4, yet he could not know precisely where. In the end, he would have to remain here for a while.

Because several interstellar trade routes crossed at this point, Kaidal-4 was always a clamorous place. Even Laurent, long accustomed to great cities, found himself a little fed up at the bustle of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a true megacity. Today in particular a distinguished guest was visiting, and Kaidal-4 was busier than usual. The plaza of the city district teemed with people coming and going.

The plaza's giant screen flashed. Upon it were Count Hogus, his face deeply furrowed, and the Countess, hiding her mouth behind a fan as she smiled with languid allure. Between them an old man, veins bulging as he gripped a microphone, flaunted his presence for all it was worth.

The old man's cry bordered on madness. A priest famous on Kaidal-4, he brandished a scripture in the empty air and pressed on.

OOOOOH!

The crowd in the plaza stirred. Laurent stood among them, watching the giant screen.

"......"

Laurent was at a loss for words. Is this a sordid affair, or a biological catastrophe?

The priest shouted until he frothed.

At the overly blatant wording, the Count carefully took the microphone. The priest answered by bringing his scripture down.

The whole affair was absurd, but Laurent remained calm. He had steeled himself for this from the moment he possessed a B-tier game, and he had been living through it ever since.

It was then that the priest raised his voice again.

No sooner had the priest finished than Laurent's eyes flashed wide. A knight might hold the station of a civil servant, but his salary was meager as they came. The only thing befitting that station was an abundance of pension benefits.

"I can hardly wait decades on account of a pension."

Laurent reached his conclusion. His purpose, in any case, was to find the Holy Grail within a few years and return to his original world. A pension had never been in his thoughts to begin with. Only the money to keep traveling mattered. He began to eye the prize posted by Count Hogus and the Countess.

"Even should the heavens collapse, righteousness must stand! The Countess is in the wrong a hundred times over!"

The prize on Count Hogus's side was far the greater.