Chapter 168: Game of Thrones
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 168: Game of Thrones
The Pope spoke.
“You say you lost them far too casually.”
The Pope had allied with Erik because he’d judged it the easiest way to eliminate Duke Signir and Allen.
But Erik had missed the golden opportunity to kill them both. And that wasn't all. In the ensuing pursuit, he had suffered heavy losses.
He’d heard Erik had left the capital with five hundred elite soldiers, but now only about two hundred stood arrayed behind him.
He'd been ambushed by Duke Signir, and his losses had been catastrophic because he'd recklessly thrown his men in to capture the duke in that state.
Of course, those losses wouldn't have mattered if Allen hadn't intervened. Had he only captured the duke, the throne of the Northern Continent would have been decided.
“This isn't why I provided you with Holy Water and drugs. At this rate, I may have to reconsider our alliance, Erik.”
What displeased the Pope most was the immense consumption of the limited Holy Water for absolutely no gain.
Despite the Pope's one-sided tirade, Erik's expression remained perfectly composed.
The Pope frowned.
“Has the shock of repeated failures struck you dumb? Why don't you say something?”
Despite the Pope's urging, Erik calmly looked around. The Pope's army, which had supposedly come to aid in the pursuit, had Erik and his men surrounded.
Erik's eyes narrowed. He met the Pope's gaze again and said, “It’s Count.”
“…What?”
“Use the proper title. I am no longer a mere heir who can be replaced at any time. I am the undisputed head of House Dresden, ruler of the southern part of the Western Continent and conqueror of half the Northern Continent.”
The Pope looked dumbfounded.
“Hah. Is that really what's important right now?”
“If it weren't important, would I have killed my own father and brother for this position?”
Even as he spoke of his family’s death, not a single flicker of emotion could be seen in Erik’s eyes.
A chill ran down the Pope's spine, and he instinctively averted his gaze.
Having seized the initiative, Erik continued, “More importantly, I'm not sure how to interpret the fact that your troops have me surrounded.”
“I’m the one who should be asking. I heard one of your knights plunged a sword into Cynthia's chest. Have you forgotten that I asked you to bring her back alive? Or perhaps…”
The Pope didn't just take it lying down. Erik had made many mistakes, and besides, he had a trump card of his own.
Only then did a crack appear in Erik's composure.
So there was a spy in the Holy Land.
He had tried to disguise Cynthia's death as being struck by a stray blade in the chaos of battle. But the Pope clearly knew the truth.
“The Baron never let her out of his sight. I never had a chance to get her alone.”
“So you killed her? After I specifically asked you not to!”
Part of the reason the Pope had joined forces with Erik was to retrieve Cynthia.
“She's the woman who can create Holy Water. It was obvious she would be a tremendous asset to the enemy. Were you suggesting I just let her live? For the sake of our great cause, if she couldn't be retrieved, killing her was the right decision.”
“Hah. Cynthia, helping the enemy? I'm the one who took her in as an orphan and raised her since she was a child!”
“To sexually abuse her, just like the other women you've taken. If that weren't the case, would she have risked her life to stand against me for the Baron?”
The Pope scoffed. It was a sneer.
“Because of that rash judgment, the enemy will now be armed with Holy Water, just like us!”
“What are you…”
“Did you really think Cynthia, the one who can create Holy Water, would die so easily?”
Erik, who had thought Holy Water was made through religious methods like blessings or prayers, couldn't hide his bewilderment at the news of Cynthia's survival.
His confidence restored, the Pope quickly continued, “And what's more, they say she was resurrected right in front of the local nobles who had gathered for the investiture ceremony! Those who witnessed the miracle with their own eyes will become our enemies too!”
He then glared at Erik as if to say, Do you realize what you've done?
“Nothing changes. Both the Baron and the Duke suffered heavy losses in this affair. Even in a direct confrontation, we will be the ones to win.”
Because of Erik's betrayal, even with Allen and the Duke combined, their forces didn't exceed a thousand.
Erik's army, on the other hand, now numbered three thousand after absorbing Allen's troops from the capital. With the Pope's forces, their total was four thousand.
A war of four thousand against one thousand.
What's more, the four thousand who held the advantage were an immortal army, armed with drugs and Holy Water.
“You had the superior numbers during the pursuit as well, didn't you?”
Erik was the one who had failed despite pursuing with twice the number of troops. There was no guarantee it wouldn't happen again in the next war.
“…What are you trying to say?”
“In the next battle, I will take command as Commander-in-Chief.”
In the end, the Pope's constant criticism of Erik's mistakes was all a ploy to seize command.
“My forces outnumber yours three to one.”
“Hasn't the Count so clearly demonstrated that no matter how large an army is, it's bound to lose if its commander is incompetent?”
Erik's eyes narrowed.
“Do you think I'll accept that?”
“If you don't, I'll wash my hands of this. But I wonder, can you handle the wrath of the backstabbed Duke and Baron without my help?”
When Erik had backstabbed Allen and the Duke, the Pope had done nothing more than supply Holy Water and drugs. This meant Allen and the Duke would be coming for Erik first.
For the Pope, it was more advantageous to step in after Allen, the Duke, and Erik had destroyed each other.
“…But you know nothing of military strategy.”
“That's a matter of entrusting it to someone capable and trustworthy. Now, what will it be?”
Erik once again looked at the Pope's army surrounding him. Then he pictured what the Duke and Allen would do next.
He had no choice but to admit he was cornered. And that he had to accept the Pope's proposal, as it was his only option.
“I'll be watching to see how well you command.”
In the end, Erik had no choice but to concede, though he left a parting shot. The corners of the Pope's mouth curled into a smirk.
“Hahaha. By all means!”
At the Pope's gesture, the soldiers surrounding Erik and his army finally parted to make way.
As was befitting a Commander-in-Chief, the Pope led the army from the front. As Erik followed behind, one of his vassals discreetly approached him.
“His intentions are obvious, my lord. He'll use his position as Commander-in-Chief to accelerate the distribution of the drugs. He means to get our soldiers addicted and make them his own.”
“I know.”
Erik had seen through the Pope's scheme from the moment he'd offered the limited supply of Holy Water and drugs.
That was why he had deliberately selected the worst of his soldiers to form the pursuit team that would receive the drugs.
“Once he's won over all our troops with the drugs, there's only one thing the Pope will do.”
The vassal added, lowering his voice and glancing at the Pope riding ahead. Betrayal.
Erik's lips twisted.
“I can't let that happen.”
Erik and his vassal exchanged a look. This was the very vassal who had devised the plot to poison the former Count and Aron, and had also procured the poison.
As soon as they returned to the capital, Aran, the Pope threw a party under the pretext of a ceremony for his appointment as commander.
He was complacent, believing Erik couldn't face Allen and the Duke without his help. Erik did not miss this opening.
“We need to find out where he's hiding the Holy Water and drugs. Otherwise, killing him will be worse than useless.”
All Erik wanted were the drugs and the Holy Water. The Pope himself was a separate matter.
At Erik's warning, the vassal smirked.
“Do not worry, my lord. Few of the Pope's men are truly loyal to him. If we offer a reward of wealth enough for three generations to live in luxury, someone is bound to betray him.”
The vassal was wrong. A soldier involved in distributing the Holy Water and drugs revealed the location of their source for just a few gold coins.
One evening, while the capital of Aran was abuzz with parties, a contingent of cavalry left the city.
They returned well over a week later. The vassal at the head of the group grinned.
“We found it.”
A chilling glint appeared in Erik's eyes.
“We move immediately.”
While his vassal had been searching for the location of the Holy Water and drugs, Erik had remained in the capital, humoring the Pope while secretly finishing his preparations for an attack.
Luckily, the Pope, having extravagantly enjoyed the four-day festival, was dead to the world. The same was true for his soldiers, who were high on drugs and debauchery.
Erik headed straight for the Pope's bedchamber. The Pope's soldiers, sprawled out in the hallways, saw Erik and the knights following him but did nothing to stop them.
Your arrogance will be your undoing.
The soldier guarding the Pope's bedchamber was at least trying to stay alert. However, his dazed eyes revealed that he, too, was under the influence of drugs.
“Step aside.”
“…His Holiness has ordered that no one be admitted. That includes you, my lord Count.”
His voice was also weak. Erik exchanged a look with his knights and took a step back. At the same moment, a knight swiftly drew his sword and stabbed the guard.
Just as the sword, swift as a beam of light, was about to cut the guard's throat, an arm shot out into its path. It was a speed unbecoming of someone high on drugs.
“Enemy—!”
The guard, his arm severed, announced the enemy's presence instead of screaming. In that instant, the eyes of the soldiers sprawled in the hallway, high on drugs, snapped open with sudden alertness.
“Enemy! Enemy! Enemy!”
The soldiers repeated the same word in monotone voices as they launched themselves forward. Their movements were too agile to be those of men high on drugs.
“These bastards…!”
In the end, it was Erik who was taken aback.
“This isn't the immortal army we knew! They're faster, more aggressive! The Pope has done something to them!”
The vassal was right. The Pope had supplied Erik, a potential enemy, with low-quality drugs and had not shared his methods for brainwashing soldiers with them.
The immortal army Erik had commanded was nothing but a pale imitation.
“It's come to this! Just break through!”
The Pope's bedchamber was just ahead, anyway. At Erik's command, the knights charged toward the room.
“Count—! What is the meaning of this!”
The Pope was sitting up in bed. Four or five prostitutes were entangled with him like snakes in the same bed. He looked as if he had just woken up.
“Pope. Doesn't the Bible warn you? That excessive greed always brings ruin.”
Confirming there were no soldiers in the bedchamber, Erik strode forward.
“Aah!”
The prostitutes, belatedly grasping the situation, covered their naked bodies with the blankets and retreated. Since they took all the blankets with them, the Pope was left completely naked.
Erik looked down at the Pope and said, “It's small.”
“You, you—!”
The Pope, his face pale, frantically looked around. He was searching for an escape route.
“There's nowhere to run.”
But Erik's knights were holding back the Pope's soldiers at the entrance, while the rest stood before the windows, keeping a watch on the Pope.
“Wi-without me, you'll be no match for the Baron and the Duke!!”
“I'll make good use of your Holy Water and drugs.”
“Don't tell me…!”
The Pope's jaw dropped as he finally realized how Erik had been able to betray him.
Erik smirked and climbed onto the bed, his sword already drawn. The gleaming blue blade shot toward the Pope's neck.
“…Gah.”
The cry came from Erik's lips. His head slowly turned back. One of the prostitutes who had been tumbling with the Pope had stabbed him in the back with a dagger.
Her blank, unfocused eyes were identical to those of the enemy soldiers his knights were holding off at the entrance.
“You… keuk!”
Before Erik could say anything else, the other four prostitutes rushed in and stabbed him with their daggers. It was a disaster that occurred because no one had been wary of the prostitutes.
“My lord Count!”
The knights rushed over too late; the light was already fading from Erik's eyes.
The leaderless knights panicked, and the prostitutes and the Pope's soldiers did not miss the opening. In the end, the knights followed Erik in death.
“Shit! After all I did to help you! You repay my kindness with betrayal! You son of a bitch! You animal!”
The Pope, having narrowly escaped death, kicked at Erik's cooling corpse.
The prostitutes, secretly raised as both his playthings and his guards, rubbed their bodies against the Pope. One of them caressed his neck and whispered in his ear.
“Your Holiness. You have a cut on your neck.”
“What? Quick! Bring me the Holy Water! Now!”
Erik's sword had grazed his neck. The wound wasn't deep, but the Pope panicked as if he'd been mortally wounded.
Startled awake by Erik's surprise attack and having come close to death, he was not in his right mind.
One of the soldiers who entered the bedchamber hastily offered him some Holy Water. The Pope squeezed the waterskin, drinking down to the very last drop.
That was the problem.
The Holy Water the soldier carried was a concoction mixed with drugs, used for training and brainwashing the soldiers.
The Pope's eyes glazed over, and he began to mutter like a madman.
“Shit. What do I do now? The plan was to kill him after getting the soldiers addicted to the drugs! That son of a bitch couldn't wait. Haa. Will the soldiers even follow me? Even if they do, it's a problem. I have no money!”
When news of Erik's death spread, the territories occupied by Dresden would change their flags.
The problem was that there was no guarantee the new lords would be friendly to the Pope.
Furthermore, having lost even the Holy Land, the Pope had no funds to support an army of four thousand.
“Fuck. Shit… Since it's come to this!”
A frightening glint appeared in the Pope's eyes. After cleaning up all traces of the fight, he hastily threw a party for all his soldiers.
The food and drink they consumed were laced with copious amounts of drugs. The soldiers, unknowingly intoxicated, soon turned into a mob.
The moment four thousand soldiers turned into a rampaging mob, the capital city of Aran was engulfed in madness.
Arson, theft, assault, and rape—all manner of crimes overran the city. The city burned brilliantly as screams and maniacal laughter echoed from all directions.
The Pope watched this pandemonium unfold from the highest floor of the inner castle.
“Yes… all I need is the immortal army…!”
In his hand, he now held a waterskin filled with the drug-laced Holy Water.
*
Meanwhile, at that very moment, Allen, who was sitting across from the Duke, heard an unexpected question.
“If you were to become king, Baron, how would you govern the Northern Continent?”
For Allen, who had no legitimate claim to the throne of the Northern Continent, it was certainly an unexpected question.
Allen couldn't help but be suspicious. He wondered if the Duke had somehow caught on to his plan.