Chapter 390: The Count and Krang
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 390: The Count and Krang
Encrid caught the scent of blood and a faint, beastly stench inside the great hall.
Aside from the smell, the signs of a struggle were glaringly obvious. He could tell just by taking a quick look around.
The Queen sat on her throne, her lips pressed into a thin, tight line. Standing right beside her, Luagarne had lost her foot. Yet, she managed to remain standing, keeping her balance remarkably well. Her heart armor was exposed, marred by visible scratch marks.
‘Those are the marks of a fierce battle.’
There had been a clash intense enough to cost Luagarne her foot. And yet, they had won.
The Marquis of Okto, positioned just before the eight low steps leading to the throne, wore a robe splattered with blood. His complexion was duller than before, and he seemed to have no intention of hiding his grim expression.
As for the surroundings, though the corpses had been cleared away, bloodstains remained on the floor, and the walls were cracked and gouged. Even the white-painted pillars supporting the great hall bore deep sword gashes.
What did that gamey stench signify? The smell of monsters. Among the corpses, several hairy beasts could be seen. They were werewolves.
‘It wasn't just Viscount Vantra.’
Even without identifying exactly who had plotted this, their intention was clear. It was a conclusion reached through intuition, reason, and deduction.
‘They intended to kill Krang, seize the capital, and secure the Queen.’
Or perhaps they meant to kill the Queen as well? There was no way to know for sure. Regardless, the enemy's plans had utterly failed. Krang was alive. The Queen, at least on the surface, appeared unharmed.
Encrid's gaze shifted behind the throne. He saw a man standing even further back than the mage. He had an angular jaw, graying sideburns, and brown hair neatly slicked back. Looking at his firmly set mouth, he gave the impression of a taciturn man who wouldn't utter a single word all day.
At his waist hung a sword with a pommel shaped like the head of a Sun Beast. He stood precisely behind the Queen—the most perfect position, whether to protect her or to strike her down.
"I had no idea a Guardian Knight actually existed."
The person least suited to this place spoke up. It was Count Molsen.
He swept his hair back, scanned Krang, Encrid, and their companions, and then turned his gaze to the Queen. As Encrid felt it, the Count's gaze had only lingered on him for a brief moment. Even his greeting of "It's been a while" had been directed at the Queen, not Krang.
It was as if Krang wasn't even there. Beyond mere dismissal, the Count didn't spare him a single glance.
"I doubt that was something you ever needed to know."
The Queen, who had once projected a warm and gentle presence, was gone. A low, heavy voice spoke in her stead. Just then, as the mage standing beside her let out a hacking cough, the tips of the Queen's eyebrows twitched upward.
"Do you admit that your intentions were impure?" the Queen demanded, her anger showing.
"I admit it," the Count replied.
It was a brief answer, but he smiled. He was just as he had always been—confident and unyielding, like an unbreakable boulder. The arrogance unique to those who act on absolute self-belief was his weapon. Amidst the stench of blood and beasts, the perfume the Count wore seemed to drift through the air. It was the aura of a man who trusted solely in himself.
"Let me ask you one thing."
As if he had no need for an answer, the Count spread his hands and continued, giving the Queen no room to respond.
"Is it really true that things have come to this just because a few nobles rebelled? Look at the state of affairs. The order of knights is fractured, and a Guardian Knight had to step forward just to protect the Queen. Surely you know the saying that a Guardian Knight appearing is an omen of a nation's ruin? Is this the end of it? Look outside. If someone had set a fire, the royal palace would have burned to the ground."
He sounded as if he could have done it himself, but simply chose not to. In Encrid's eyes, the Count's figure seemed to grow larger and larger.
"Sophistry!" a noble shouted.
It was a face Encrid had never seen before, but his presence in this room meant he held a high rank. His voice was loud, yet he seemed dwarfed by the Count. It felt as though the very sense of perspective in the room had warped.
"Do not dismiss reality as mere sophistry," the Count countered.
Though his voice was low, it possessed a presence that overwhelmed everyone present. The noble's mouth shut. He knew that no matter what he said, he would gain nothing. It was the instinct of a noble who had survived long in the political arena.
"Hmph."
The noble snorted instead, but the Count utterly defeated him simply by ignoring him. He hadn't used a sword or his hands, but it was a defeat nonetheless.
"What is it you wish to say?"
This time, another noble stepped forward. It was an old man who resembled Marcus, Marquis Vaisar—the master of Centerpole, the House of the Thumb. His white hair was neatly slicked back with flower seed oil, and not a single drop of blood was splattered on his clothes. It suggested that his path, his purpose, and his reason for being here were entirely different from the others.
"I merely wish to ask why things have come to this," the Count replied.
"The reason?" the Marquis asked.
"What do you think it would be like if the monarch actually possessed power?" The corners of the Count's eyes and lips curved gently into a smile.
"You bastard! How dare you insult the royal family!" the short-tempered noble from before barked.
"Stop interrupting. Or is this what your master ordered you to do?"
At the Count's words, the noble's hand trembled. He wore a shortsword at his waist, and it looked as if he might draw it at any moment. Having said his piece, the Count ignored him. Beside him, the Marquis of Okto gestured for the noble to stand down. The noble shut his mouth tight.
"What if you could have summoned Lord Cypress here with a single word?" The Count did not lose his smile. He continued to press.
"Do you have any idea what would happen if we emptied the south?" Marquis Vaisar asked in return.
Count Molsen spoke as if he had been waiting for the question. "Does that even matter?"
"He is the sword that protects the palace. If that doesn't matter, then what does?" the Marquis of Okto chimed in.
The Count replied with a calm demeanor, "The throne, the monarch, strength, power, and the consolidation of authority."
His meaning was clear. Establishing the throne and securing power had to come first.
"Who is it that commands the order of knights?" The Count spoke as if delivering a speech, raising his clenched right fist high. "Is it the knight they praise as Master? Or is it the monarch? Or perhaps the throne? Or is it...!"
His voice flew like a dagger. The Queen clenched her teeth, the muscles in her jaw tightening visibly.
"...that game of honor they love so much?"
What took priority? The throne. The monarch. Power. Authority. Gathering power to build strength was the only priority. What use was a throne if one lacked the power to achieve their goals?
"Abdicate the throne, Queen. That is the way to save this country."
The Count had crossed the line. He had leaped far past it. Yet, it did not feel out of place. His words possessed a force that made them seem correct, as if he were presenting a sound argument to save the nation.
Marquis Vaisar threw an obstacle in front of his words, his face and tone peaceful and entirely out of keeping with the setting. "And what would change if you became the monarch?"
"Everything would change."
"What, exactly?" the grim-faced Marquis of Okto followed up.
"I will consolidate power and strengthen the throne. The enemies pushing in during that time? The lost territories? In just a few years, we will push them all back. We can simply reclaim the land then, can we not?"
It was a resolve to walk a different path. He was saying he would first solidify their internal foundations, then start anew with the strength they had cultivated.
"With what?"
"I am a mage. And my territory possesses power rivaling that of an entire order of knights."
This time, it was an explicit threat. Even Encrid, watching from the side, felt it. Do you have power? Because I do. That was what he was saying.
The two Marquises were left speechless. The Queen was no different.
"O Queen, how long do you think your Guardian Knight can protect you? Utterly absurd. If you are confident, then try me. I will show you the power of one born and raised in the land you call the frontier—Molsen."
The word 'arrogance' was perfectly suited for this moment. Despite the failure of this operation, the Count did not beg for forgiveness, nor did he resort to underhanded schemes from the shadows. He stood tall and spoke directly. He was confident he could take it by force.
"Bring your knights. Once I have brought them all to their knees and slaughtered them, I shall personally declare this kingdom mine."
Slaughtering the entire order of knights? It was absurd. Yet, he made it seem possible. There was power in the Count's words. His voice weighed heavily on the assembly, dragging them down. It felt as though they ought to fall to their knees.
Of course, Encrid would do no such thing. Neither would the Marquis of Okto or Marquis Vaisar. However, some of the remaining nobles were visibly wavering. The battle was over, and it felt as though it was concluding with the Count's victory.
"It's magic," a whispering voice sounded beside him.
Esther had slipped close to his side before he knew it.
"I wondered what kind of trick he was playing," she said.
Instead of replying, Encrid kept his eyes forward. Magic. So the Count speaking over there was using some kind of trick.
Should I cut him down? I didn't like the fellow anyway.
As if reading his mind, Ragna asked from behind, "Shall I cut him?"
Would that be alright? As Encrid pondered for a moment, Krang raised his hand. He had a bright, beaming smile on his face. Marquis Vaisar's peacefulness was out of place, but this went beyond that—it made Krang look like a madman.
"I have a question, Teacher."
His face looked more joyful than ever. The title itself was dripping with mockery. He was clearly speaking with intent. That mocking title made it impossible for the Count to ignore him.
The Count looked straight at the Queen. "Are you relying on a childish brat like that? A mere child with no power and nothing to his name?"
Krang was no child. He even had a fair amount of facial hair. Yet, when the Count said it, it sounded as if it were true. Krang ignored the insult with an attitude of utter indifference.
"If you exclude the order of knights and withdraw the knights, they will expand their territory in Southern Richenstetten. And what of the Demon Realm? Naturally, you won't be able to stop them."
Krang stepped onto the stage the Count had set. He rode the atmosphere, acting as if the pressure didn't matter. He was still smiling.
"And?" the Count asked, finally facing Krang.
"Then a lot of people are going to die. It won't just end with losing land. As we lose territory and get pushed back, countless people living near the borders will perish. Will that be the end of it? If we lose people and land, merchants will stop coming. And what happens when merchants stop coming? Fewer gold coins will circulate. The nation's economy will falter. Ah, unless you're overflowing with gold coins and believe you can solve all of this with your personal fortune, Count? But no matter how great your power is, you won't be able to block all of Southern Richenstetten or the Demon Realm."
The Count looked at the "newborn pup" standing on his stage. His eyes were filled with contempt, as if looking at something pathetic.
"Sacrifice is inevitable. I merely do what is necessary."
"Must you?"
"Then how else can we move forward without sacrifice?"
Krang spread his hands. "We can do both."
"Both?"
"We won't make sacrifices. And we can build the royal family's strength while solidifying our internal foundations."
"Sophistry."
"Do not dismiss what is about to happen as mere sophistry."
"Bluffing that you can do the impossible is your only weapon, it seems."
"Not at all. My weapon lies elsewhere."
"Show me, then."
"I happen to be quite good at asking for favors."
"Favors?"
"For instance, if I were to ask someone to cut off your head right this instant, there is someone who would step forward."
"Try it."
Krang looked at the Count, his smile unchanged. It was as if he were looking at a dear friend. "Do you want to die?"
"You cannot kill me."
The Count sounded certain. Encrid, listening to their conversation, finished preparing to step forward at any moment.
"Could I ask you a favor, Enki?" Krang spoke.
Encrid saw Krang turn his gaze toward him. Playfulness and heat mingled in those blue eyes. It might have sounded out of the blue. It might have seemed like he shouldn't step forward. After all, everyone was weighed down by the overwhelming pressure radiating from both the Count and Krang. Even Ragna was hesitating to step forward as readily as before.
Amidst that silence, Encrid took a step.
"Of course," he said.
He blended into the atmosphere and stood tall. The air warped strangely. Onto the stage Krang had set, a blade named Encrid had stepped.
"You really are a tempting fellow," Count Molsen said as he watched Encrid.
"Not the Count's friend, but mine. Right?" Krang replied.
"Even now, align yourself with me," the Count said, looking at Encrid without backing down. "You can see how things stand. Even a seven-year-old child knows you should stand on the winning side."
The atmosphere made it seem as though whoever won Encrid over would be the victor. Encrid took a giant stride forward. Standing beside Krang, he grabbed Krang's wrist and raised it high.
"Victory."
It was a clear verdict.
"As expected," Krang nodded with a smile.
Watching this, the Count burst into a hearty laugh. "Good, very good! Splendid. This is your choice, Queen?"
"I have nothing to say to a rebel," the Queen finally replied.
The Count glared at Krang. "You said you would solidify internal foundations without calling upon the order of knights? Then you had better block the arrow I have shot right this instant. Without your precious order of knights, that is."
"Are you worrying about me? How kind. I shall defeat your forces without the order of knights," Krang mocked.
The Count did not take the bait. Instead, white smoke began to hiss and leak from his entire body.
"It wasn't his real body to begin with," Esther spoke to Encrid, her voice carrying to everyone.
"Ah, I have already dispatched a portion of my forces to the Border Guard. Once a magnificent blaze rises from that city, you had better change your mind."
The Count, whose body was shriveling as the smoke escaped, spoke his final words. "See you again."
The Count's body collapsed. Encrid looked at the face of the fallen man. It was not a face he recognized, but Krang knew him.
"Viscount Mernes."
Having vanished without a trace, he had met his end here as the Count's messenger. Krang let out a long sigh. Behind him, the two Marquises watched him. They looked at Encrid as well.
"Now, Your Majesty. I have kept my promise," Krang spoke amidst the silence. His tone was as cheerful as ever. "I have purged all the noble factions from this room, leaving only my people."
He immediately brought up his promise with the Queen. There was no time to leisurely sort out the situation.