Chapter 78
Chapter 78
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 78
Chapter Title: Seeds of Discord
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* * *
He had managed to secure a draw against the infamous ‘Black Prince’ and reclaim Reims without bloodshed.
This was solely the achievement of the Holy Maiden Orelia, and Dale, too, had surrendered the kingdom’s capital in her name.
“The Holy Maiden has reclaimed the capital of the kingdom!”
“Hooray!”
“The mercy and compassion of the Sister Goddesses are with the Holy Maiden!”
“The Goddess is watching over us!”
The people of Reims, and indeed the entire Britannia Independence Army, cried out the Holy Maiden’s name.
Not that of Charles VII, the legitimate heir to the Kingdom of Britannia, but the names of the Holy Maiden Orelia and the Sister Goddesses Sistina.
‘H-how dare they…!’
How must this fact have struck Charles VII?
‘It is I, I who am destined to be the king of this kingdom!’
But no one paid any mind to the likes of Charles VII, the legitimate heir to the royal family of Britannia.
It was the Holy Maiden Orelia alone who had united the Britannia Independence Army against the Empire’s tyranny and led them, supported by the powerful figures of the old kingdom who shared her cause.
Charles VII could become king simply because the Holy Maiden Orelia had endorsed him. That was all there was to it.
In other words.
—What if the Holy Maiden did not wish for Charles VII to be king?
For a moment, Charles VII was seized by the illusion that he was merely a ‘puppet of the Holy Maiden,’ dancing on her strings.
The foolishly righteous standard-bearer of the Goddess surely harbored no dark intentions or political machinations like those Charles imagined. But that changed nothing.
People, after all, tend to see what they want to see.
* * *
After the Britannia Independence Army reclaimed their capital, the king’s coronation was held by the 7th-circle white magician and archbishop, ‘Thomas Becket.’
It was a ceremony where the bishop’s anointing with consecrated oil officially declared him the rightful king of the Kingdom of Britannia.
The Empire’s enemy was no longer a mere independence army. They now had to face the ‘Royal Army of Britannia,’ and furthermore, powerful figures of the kingdom, including an Aura Master knight and a 7th-circle white magician, were assisting the Holy Maiden.
The end of the war was finally approaching.
The time to drive the last of the Empire’s territory from the island of Britannia was at hand.
* * *
In the Imperial territories on the island of Britannia. Burgundy, the final stronghold of the Imperial domain governed by the Imperial Governor-General.
“You… you… you utterly foolish, incompetent loser…!”
Putting aside the endless stream of bad news for the Empire, Phillip pointed a finger at Dale.
“How dare you surrender Reims to the enemy without a fight! What were you thinking?”
He chided Dale as if for his incompetence.
“Your foolishness, your complete lack of understanding of warfare, leaves me speechless!”
“Ah, is that so.”
Dale was unconcerned, as if it wasn't even worth a response.
“As I thought, someone like you is woefully inadequate to lead this war…”
Seeing Dale’s silence, Phillip pressed his advantage. Or rather, he tried to. Just then.
*Snap.*
With the sound of a finger snap, a flame erupted. Inside Phillip’s mouth.
“Ugh, ughhh!”
The flame was searing Phillip’s tongue.
“If you spout any more nonsense, I’ll burn that pig-like tongue of yours to a crisp.”
Lady Scarlet, a high-ranking elder of the Red Magic Tower, spat out coldly. But no one paid any mind to Phillip, who was writhing in agony.
Not the Black Prince, not Lady Scarlet, not Cardinal Nikolai, not the Governor-General of Burgundy. Not even Phillip’s own father, the Holy Sword Master, Count Brandenburg.
When he had first heard Dale’s intention to surrender Reims, the Holy Sword Master’s thoughts had not been so different from Phillip’s.
But then came the incredible tale of the ‘Black Prince’ achieving a draw against the Holy Maiden on the drawbridge of Reims… and the composure Dale had shown since returning to Burgundy, the Empire’s final stronghold.
“As I promised, I will lead this war to victory.”
Dale had wagered his own heart, along with taking full responsibility for defeat, should he fail to win the war. And yet, how could he maintain such placid composure?
“Do you truly have a way to win?”
“You cannot destroy what is not there…”
At the Holy Sword Master’s question, Dale nodded.
“But what is there is a different story.”
His expression was one of certainty. As if the course of this war lay in the palm of his hand.
Seeing this, Count Brandenburg could not bring himself to smile.
He could only imagine the victory in this war and the renown of the ‘Black Prince’ that would echo throughout the Empire.
The outcome if, despite the historic defeat where the buffoon Phillip had lost half the Imperial army, Dale commanded the cornered forces to destroy the ‘Kingdom of Britannia’ and seize victory.
But there was no other way.
A ‘Geas’ was already carved into the Holy Sword Master’s heart, compelling him to absolutely obey Dale’s orders in all future operations and to entrust him with the handling of any prisoners captured in battle.
* * *
No battle is without casualties. This was no exception, even for the victorious Independence Army.
No, in the first place, achieving victory thus far with an inferior force was nothing short of a miracle.
If they hadn't captured Phillip and seized a large quantity of military supplies just as they were nearing their culminating point, their advance would have ground to a halt.
Capturing Phillip and taking Bel Port, a supposedly impregnable fortress. And further, reclaiming the royal capital of Reims without bloodshed—it was no exaggeration to call it a miracle of the Goddess.
But this was as far as it went.
It is gold that moves war.
And around that time, Charles VII, the King of the Kingdom of Britannia, was gripped by a very large worry.
The existence of the Holy Maiden, who threatened his position with the name of the Goddess at her back. Furthermore, Charles’s finances, poured into the war for independence, were hitting rock bottom.
The investment, akin to filling a bottomless pit based on a single revelation from the Holy Maiden, had finally run dry.
“We must advance on the Imperial territory in Burgundy and drive them from the kingdom completely.”
Despite this, the Holy Maiden Orelia did not yield her position.
Following the will of the Goddess, until every last trace of the Empire was driven from the island of Britannia. Until they captured the port city of Dover where the Imperial army had first landed, and the entire island was painted as the kingdom’s territory. The Holy Maiden Orelia’s fight was not over.
She did not hesitate to fulfill her mission. That fact was an indescribable burden to Charles VII.
“But, Holy Maiden, is not the remaining Imperial territory but a sliver of what it once was?”
To be honest, he was sick and tired of the war.
“The royal treasury is already empty due to the excessive battles we have fought.”
That was, of course, excluding the funds for the ‘king’s luxuries.’
“…Is the royal treasury not depleted because of Your Majesty’s extravagance?”
Orelia was not unaware of this fact.
“I implore you to postpone the ‘construction of the new royal castle’ Your Majesty has ordered and divert those funds to the army.”
When the Holy Maiden Orelia pointed this out, a single emotion gripped Charles VII.
It was fear.
“—To build a new royal castle in the current situation is, as Your Majesty said, an extravagance that will deplete the treasury.”
The daughter of a mere serf was giving orders to a king without a shred of fear. Without bending her will. And everyone in the Kingdom of Britannia was siding with her.
“H-how dare you…”
A king having to bow his head before the daughter of a mere serf!
“Such impudence before the king!”
“…Please forgive my impertinence.”
Charles roared, and the Holy Maiden bowed her head and turned away.
“The daughter of a mere serf dares, dares…”
Towards the Holy Maiden’s retreating back, Charles VII muttered under his breath, his voice distorted with unbearable humiliation and shame.
* * *
A short time later. Just as the seeds of discord sown by Dale were beginning to sprout.
An Imperial envoy arrived in Reims, the capital of the newly reborn Kingdom of Britannia.
It was Dale of Sachsen, the supreme commander of the Imperial forces.
* * *
In a room within the royal castle, the capital of the Kingdom of Britannia.
It was not the Holy Maiden Orelia who greeted the Imperial envoy, Dale. For Charles VII, the King of Britannia, was there.
Dale himself had proposed a one-on-one conversation… for the ‘supreme commanders’ of this war to speak with each other.
“What our Empire desires is peace.”
And at that very table, Dale began to speak, as if he represented the will of the Empire itself.
“Peace?”
“A way to resolve this conflict rationally, without shedding any more blood.”
Dale said.
“After several major defeats, our Empire no longer has the strength to continue this fight.”
“Is that not proof that the Goddess is watching over our kingdom?”
“I suppose so.”
Dale did not deny it, simply nodding his head.
“It is practically impossible for the Empire to threaten the Kingdom of Britannia any longer.”
He spoke as if defeat was imminent.
“—Therefore, our Empire would like to propose an ‘indefinite armistice’ to His Majesty, King Charles.”
“An indefinite armistice?”
Not an end to the war.
“Please think of it as a formality to preserve the Empire’s dignity.”
Dale smiled as if there was nothing to worry about.
“An… an indefinite armistice…”
Indeed, what Dale said made sense.
In the form of a truce without a time limit, the Empire would not officially grant Britannia its independence. At the same time, as long as the armistice continued, the Kingdom of Britannia’s situation would be tantamount to independence.
Charles’s long deliberation continued.
“But… there is one thing that concerns me.”
After a long pause, Charles spoke cautiously.
“The existence of the Holy Maiden Orelia, I presume.”
Dale replied as if he had known all along.
The Holy Maiden Orelia. The standard-bearer of salvation who had rallied the soldiers of a fallen kingdom and became the focal point for achieving their independence.
“Do you trust her?”
“I express a gratitude for the Holy Maiden’s deeds that cannot be described with words.”
Charles VII answered confidently.
“She is like a treasure to our kingdom.”
Not ignorant of the weight the Holy Maiden’s existence carried in public perception, Charles answered, concealing his true feelings.
“Do you truly think so?”
But Dale shot back coldly.
“The only reason Your Majesty can be king is because she wishes it.”
“……!”
It was as if he could see right into Charles’s heart.
“So, what will you do when she no longer wishes it?”
“I have no doubt in her piety.”
Dale paid no heed to Charles’s bluff.
“That is precisely what I wanted to say.”
As if he expected as much, he pulled something from his coat.
“The Holy Maiden’s faith is indeed beyond question.”
It was a secretly sealed letter.
“Wh-what is this?”
“Archbishop Thomas willingly betrayed the White Magic Tower to become the ‘Holy Maiden’s standard-bearer.’”
Dale said. Archbishop Thomas Becket. A 7th-circle white magician and a high-ranking elder of the White Magic Tower. A man who had willingly become part of the Independence Army for his homeland, Britannia.
“The Imperial Army’s ‘Cardinal Nikolai’… was caught attempting to pass this secret letter to Archbishop Thomas.”
“Wh-what did you say?”
“Please, read it.”
Dale passed the secret letter, and Charles VII carefully took it.
— …(omitted)… The day is not far when the nation of the Goddess will stand tall on the island of Britannia.
And after reading its contents.
“Ah, ahhh…”
“That’s right.”
At last, the demon of suspicion that had been tormenting Charles revealed its true form.
“The Holy Maiden’s ultimate goal is not the independence of the Kingdom of Britannia.”
“N-no, it can’t be.”
“Amidst the machinations of the White Magic Tower, it is to re-establish the nation of the Goddess… a Papal State.”
Only then did the scattered pieces of the puzzle in Charles’s mind fall into place.
“In other words, Archbishop Thomas never betrayed the White Magic Tower.”
The reason why a high-ranking elder of the White Magic Tower, Archbishop Thomas, had volunteered to be the Holy Maiden’s standard-bearer.
“Because the White Magic Tower was never loyal to the Empire in the first place.”
Cardinal Nikolai of the White Magic Tower, who had joined the Imperial forces, was colluding with Archbishop Thomas.
“The victory of the Britannia Independence Army is not the ‘victory of the Goddess,’ but merely the result of cooperation from a traitor within the Imperial Army.”
Dale said.
“Therefore, it goes without saying what will happen after the Holy Maiden drives the Empire from this land.”
Charles VII could not say a word.
“After the Empire, the next one the Holy Maiden will drive from this land will be Your Majesty, Charles.”
Yes. It was just as Dale said. The miraculous victories the Holy Maiden had shown were not achieved by her hand alone.
They were only possible due to the clandestine activities of the White Magic Tower for the revival of the nation of the Goddess… the Papal State. Only now could he understand.
“What do you say, Your Majesty Charles?”
“……”
“What our Empire desires is, and always has been, peace.”
A whisper as cunning as that of a serpent.
“For the sake of peace, will our two nations not join hands?”
To Charles, whose heart was darkened and captured by a demon of doubt, it was an offer he had no reason to refuse.