Chapter 165: Game of Thrones
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 165: Game of Thrones
Did the wound from Erik's attack reopen? A heavy weight pressed down on my chest.
Wait, not a sense of wrongness or pain, but weight? I forced the sleep from my mind and pried my eyes open.
A short crop of red hair filled my vision. The bob was so thick you couldn't see her scalp, and it was grimy. I thought I could even smell it faintly.
But I couldn't bring myself to point it out.
The wet cloth in her hand and her clothes, stained with blood, told me she'd gotten that way while taking care of me.
“Cynthia.”
When I gently stroked her hair with my other hand, she snapped her head up.
Her characteristically defiant eyes softened in an instant, and tears welled up in pupils that seemed to hold the universe.
“You idiot…”
Her lips trembled. The tears finally spilled over and streamed down her cheeks.
I grabbed her arm and pulled her onto the bed. Our bodies pressed together, so close I could feel her breath on my face.
“You're the idiot. You've never even properly learned to use a sword, yet you rushed in to save me and nearly got yourself killed.”
Cynthia averted her gaze.
“That was… You completely backstabbed the Pope. I just figured you'd be in for it if you got caught.”
Then, she cleared her throat and spoke in her usual blunt tone.
“Not very honest, are you?”
I grabbed the nape of her neck and pulled her closer. Her tear-filled eyes slowly widened.
“W-wait…”
She urgently pushed against my chest, trying to create some distance.
But our lips met before she could. I didn't stop there, pushing my tongue inside. Cynthia struggled. Wasn't this a pretty good mood?
Just as I was thinking that.
“Ahem… I understand the sentiment, but your body is not yet healed. Perhaps you should restrain yourselves a little.”
“You too, Cynthia! The Baron needs to rest!”
Across from Cynthia stood Archbishop Raceni and Isabel. It seemed we weren't alone in the room.
“Looks like I was being a nuisance.”
I let her go with an awkward laugh. She shot me a fierce glare before leaving the room. She couldn't have been truly angry. Before the other two stopped us, she had subtly started to respond with her own tongue.
She was probably just embarrassed by the situation, and by her disheveled appearance from nursing me. She would be back soon.
I leaned back against the headboard and sat up.
“I think I lost consciousness after seeing Cynthia's resurrection. How much time has passed?”
“You were unconscious for a full half-day. It's already dawn.”
On the table beside the bed, a candle burned down to a stump was flickering away the last of its life.
“What about Erik?”
The Archbishop shook his head.
“We managed to take down most of his guards, but Erik himself escaped the Holy Land unscathed.”
“…The lack of knights in our forces really hurt us.”
I clicked my tongue inwardly. The problem was that my army, severely lacking in knights, would struggle to stop an enemy knight without me.
Erik must have taken that into account when he planned his ambush.
The Archbishop continued his report.
“I have placed the garrison on high alert to prepare for any further attacks. We have also decided to postpone the coronation. The dignitaries who witnessed this incident will surely understand.”
“No. I won't give Erik and the Pope what they want. The coronation will proceed as scheduled.”
Erik's reasons for causing a scene in the Holy Land must have included ruining the coronation.
Unlike the current Pope, the Archbishop is someone who knows how to properly wield the power of the papacy. They must have judged him a threat.
The Archbishop did not hide his concern.
“What? But…”
“There won't be another attack. Not for now.”
Erik will need some time to deal with the Count's death and get his family's affairs in order.
Besides, Erik and the Pope were at each other's throats just a week ago. There's no way they could have reached a detailed agreement.
The fact that they don't fully understand Cynthia's ability proves it.
Cynthia, whose bodily fluids were all like potions, was practically immortal unless her brain was turned to mush or her throat was slit.
Yet Erik was satisfied with just stabbing her in the chest and paid her no more mind. The Pope must not have told him the details.
Then again, he probably never imagined Erik would actually kill Cynthia, so it was only natural.
The fact that he'd be reluctant to reveal that the Holy Water was Cynthia's urine must have also played a part.
In any case, thanks to their discord, Cynthia was able to resurrect. Without any Holy Water, right in front of all the dignitaries gathered for the coronation.
She might actually be treated as a true saintess now. Since the Holy Water was revealed first, she won't be treated like a witch.
Because of the Holy Water's existence, the dignitaries who witnessed her resurrection were highly likely to see it as an act of divine grace.
She was already famous as the Saintess of Benevolence, and now she's demonstrated a resurrection. The coronation of the Archbishop she supports will gain even more momentum.
If that happens, I'll gain another justification to participate in the war in the Northern Continent, without Dresden. A justification more powerful than any other: a holy war.
My plan to use the church to dominate the Northern Continent has gained more traction. In the end, Erik actually helped me.
The problem was my troops.
No matter how great your justification, it becomes meaningless if you're outmatched in strength.
“Any news from the capital?”
The garrison in the Holy Land is only three hundred strong. The other seven hundred are stationed in the capital, Aran. Erik would surely try to take care of my forces while he's at it.
Just as I'd expected. The Archbishop shook his head, his face grave.
“Yes. There has been no word. However, considering the distance, it's possible a messenger simply hasn't arrived yet.”
“We'll have to assume they've been wiped out.”
A plan that relies on uncertain hope is nothing but a house of cards. In times like these, it's best to think as conservatively as possible.
The thought that the veteran mercenary captain, Hodgson, who had proven himself wise and experienced, might have survived crossed my mind, but I didn't change my assessment.
“Archbishop. Contact the Coastal City Alliance and tell them to recruit mercenaries. As many as they can possibly get.”
I can always hire more mercenaries, but losing veterans who had accumulated combat experience was a significant blow.
That's why I intended to replace experience with overwhelming numbers. The wealth of the Coastal City Alliance would be more than enough to meet my expectations.
“And while preparing for the coronation, win over as many of the dignitaries as you can. It shouldn't be difficult, seeing as they watched Erik drench the Holy Land in blood and saw Cynthia's resurrection.”
Even when I fought the Pope in the Holy Land, I deliberately drove the crowds away first. But Erik committed his deed in front of everyone.
If he had succeeded in eliminating both me and Duke Signir as planned, it wouldn't have been a problem, but the result was the exact opposite. Now it was time for him to pay the price.
Furthermore, the Pope, who already had a poor image, had lost his legitimacy in the eyes of the northerners by joining hands with Dresden. Even more dignitaries would surely side with us.
“The key is Duke Signir.”
Even so, if Duke Signir dies, we won't be able to overcome our military disadvantage.
“If you help him, my father will never forget your kindness.”
Isabel said, gripping my hand with both of hers. Her palms were slick with cold sweat.
Before I could answer, the door opened and Cynthia returned.
“Absolutely not.”
She must have overheard, as she immediately voiced her opposition. She strode over and looked down at Isabel.
“This is an unreasonable request. The Baron is not yet healed, and he has lost the troops he would need to help the Duke. If things go wrong…”
“Cynthia.”
I took Cynthia's hand and pulled her down. She sat beside me and didn't look away.
“There's no need to push yourself. The Pope and Erik are only thinking of deceiving and using each other; they'll fall apart soon enough. If you wait for that moment, you can get what you want.”
“The problem is, we don't have much time. The situation in the Western Continent is looking grim.”
Losing my lands and women in the West just to gain the North would be getting my priorities backward.
Cynthia bit her lip. I squeezed her hand tighter and continued.
“Besides… it won't be that dangerous.”
He failed to get his main strategic target, Duke Signir, and he couldn't even kill Cynthia. It was a sloppy plan, not like Erik at all.
In other words, he and the Pope were impatient. There's no way Duke Signir wouldn't have noticed that.
The Duke probably either doesn't need help, or only needs a little.
“Then isn't that all the more reason not to go?”
“No. It's the opposite. This is a chance to win the Duke's favor without much risk.”
“Haaah… You act like you have two lives, my lord. You might really regret this one day.”
“I promise. I will come back.”
“Honestly…”
Cynthia shook her head with a look of resignation. And Isabel, who had taken a step back, mouthed a word from behind her.
‘Thank you.’
She seemed to think my reasoning was just an excuse to reassure Cynthia. It was a misunderstanding I had no need to correct.
Having decided to rescue the Duke, I left the Holy Land at the crack of dawn with only thirty men.
“I don't know how to express my gratitude. If I could, I'd offer you my body.”
Isabel, who had come along as our guide, was with me.
In this chaotic political climate, crossing the borders between territories was no easy task. The local lords and knights wouldn't take kindly to suspicious travelers.
That's why I needed Isabel, whose face was known in the noble society of the Northern Continent. A sort of free pass, you could say.
“You're being a little too obvious.”
I let out a dry laugh. Isabel, riding in front of me, twisted her torso to look up at me with a sly smile.
“What does it matter? Now that things have turned out this way, your marriage talks with Dresden are off, aren't they? And a young man of power like you needs a wife. A young, beautiful wife from a prestigious family like mine, who can also bear you many children.”
She was right. But it was also the wrong thing to say for the situation. I placed a hand on her head. A tremor I hadn't seen was palpable through my palm.
“You don't have to force yourself to act calm. And don't be anxious. As his daughter, you know better than anyone what a strong man the Duke is.”
“…How can I not worry? The strongest knight, whose fame was legendary, died so meaninglessly, and you, the man who killed him, almost died as well.”
Only then did a tremor enter Isabel's voice.
I pulled her petite body, unbelievably so for a nineteen-year-old, into an embrace. Then I buried my face in her hair and whispered.
“I told you not to worry. I won't die before I get to fuck this lewd little brat.”
Isabel didn't resist my touch. On the contrary, she pulled my arms tighter around her, as if to relieve her anxiety by being held more securely.
“Hmph. I knew it from that night. That you're a huge pervert.”
“That's not something the lewd little brat who not only watched lovers making love but also showed them herself masturbating should be saying…”
“Hehe. They say married couples grow to resemble each other. Since we're so alike without even being married, aren't we a match made in heaven?”
“Hmm. Then should we check if our bodies are compatible right now?”
“R-right now?”
Isabel hastily grabbed my arm as it started to move lower. The adult composure she'd been trying to project had vanished.
She was only pretending to be experienced; every reaction she had screamed of her inexperience.
I moved my hand back up, cupped her chin, and kissed her. Then I met her dazed eyes and whispered.
“We'll continue this next time, in a place and at a time with a better atmosphere.”
“Yesss…”
Isabel ducked her head low. I didn't need to see her face to know it was as red as a tomato; even her neck had turned bright red.
“My lord! Over there—!”
We found traces of Duke Signir three days after leaving the Holy Land.
Acting on Isabel's suggestion that the Duke would be heading for his own territory, Foesterheim, we had just arrived at Hover Canyon, the fastest route.
A battle was raging halfway down the canyon road, which was flanked by cliffs on both sides.
The interesting thing was that the Duke's army, which should have been fleeing, had instead surrounded their pursuer, Erik's army.
“He fell into a trap.”
Erik must have rushed, thinking it would all be over once he caught the Duke. And the Duke, even in a desperate situation, must have used his wits to take advantage of Erik's impatience.
Duke Signir, having taken a heavy blow, was now paying it back.
Despite this formation, however, the tide of battle was not in his favor.
Erik's soldiers, their faces so calm it was hard to believe they'd been ambushed, were fighting the Duke's army like robots.
When they were wounded, they would take out a waterskin, drink from it and apply it to their wounds, then rejoin the front lines.
“Eastern drugs and Holy Water.”
They were astonishingly similar to the Pope's army from the game.
“My lord…!”
There was no more time to watch. Isabel grabbed my collar with a desperate look on her face.
I helped her down to a safe spot and then took in the battlefield at a glance. As this was an important matter, Erik was in the center of his army, focused on commanding his troops.
This was my chance to pay him back.
“Don't fall behind me.”
Our force was only thirty men strong, but I didn't hesitate for a second as I spurred my horse forward.