Confronting the Imperial Knights
Though I'd taken care of the most important business, it had already been seven hours on the train to reach the Imperial Capital Dersia. Considering our stamina, it was too late to grab tickets and head straight back. The sun was setting anyway. I headed toward the upscale residential district in the capital, considered one of the affluent areas, with Beatrice by my side.
There was no need to book an inn for just one night in the capital. As I'd mentioned before, this city was practically my hometown in this world. Naturally, the mansion I hadn't sold off still stood proudly in the residential zone.
Not to brag or anything, but I was known as the Mercenary King of my generation. Properties scattered across the continent were a given, especially in the capital.
"...Dad, are you actually way richer than I thought?"
"Huh?"
We'd shown our identification to the guards in the heavily secured affluent district and arrived in front of a massive mansion when Beatrice asked that. I couldn't help but chuckle at her absurd, belated realization.
What was this all of a sudden?
"To cover your medicine from the start, a mere fortune wouldn't cut it. You must've known I was loaded all this time, right?"
"No... I mean, yeah, but."
Beatrice trailed off ambiguously and craned her neck upward. At her height, that was the only way to take in the full view of the mansion. Soon, she furrowed her brows in genuine bewilderment and shot me a sideways glare.
I knew what she wanted to say. So, I replied indifferently.
"Well, the house is a bit on the large side."
"...'A bit' large? Really?"
"Hm."
I ignored Beatrice's retort, dripping with incredulity, and pushed open the wrought-iron gate.
Thud...
No special key was needed. Like our nest in Handel, this place had been layered with all sorts of magical wards long ago. The barrier etched throughout the mansion recognized my presence and opened the gate—no need for physical security.
Unlike Handel's mansion, I hadn't inscribed the magic myself here. This barrier was the work of an 8th Hierarchy mage who'd once earned the title of Grand Sorcerer. If it didn't recognize me as the owner, even I'd have struggled to breach it directly.
Of course, no such need now.
"Come on in. Any room on any floor—use whatever you like."
"Uh, o-okay..."
Beatrice entered the mansion cautiously under my guidance, her expression uneasy. Once the daughter of a prestigious count's family, she still couldn't easily adapt to the scale of this place.
Well, can't blame her.
I didn't voice it, but watching her novel reaction was surprisingly amusing. Truth be told, it was a mansion that warranted such a response.
This place wasn't something I'd bought with my mercenary earnings. It had been gifted to me out of the blue by a certain duke with whom I shared a small connection.
To purchase a mansion like this outright, I'd have had to blow more than thirty percent of the savings I'd scraped together over seven years for the Blood Flow Catalyst. It was that enormous.
Yet when Duke Teiran handed it over, he'd just chuckled heartily and tossed it my way.
Wonder if the old man's doing well.
I thought of the elderly duke for the first time in ages, a faint smile crossing my lips as I turned. Beatrice was wandering the mansion, gasping in awe: "Wow, whoa..."
I called out to her briefly.
"Beatrice, I've got some business outside. Stay put and wait quietly!"
"...H-huh? Business? All of a sudden like this?"
She'd been admiring some nameless rare artwork in the hallway and whipped around in surprise, but—
"I'll be right back. Be good."
"Eek... For real? Dad? Dad!"
Before she could approach, I spun on my heel and slipped out the front door, closing it behind me. I idly touched the scabbard of my sword.
"...Hmm."
What came to mind was Hokma's expression from just minutes ago at the alchemy workshop—the last time I'd seen him. And the flask on the workbench he'd tried to hide from me with his body.
It was only a glimpse, but I'd clearly seen what was inside.
Blood.
Beatrice's, most likely. He'd hidden it from me. Why? For what purpose?
Any mercenary who didn't sense the ominous vibe from that scene would be a failure. Especially that deathly pale face he'd worn at first...
"...Well, figures it'd come to this."
This tied into how the presences around my mansion had suddenly scattered. Still casually stroking my scabbard, I let a cold smile curl my lips.
The stone path to the mansion, the vast grounds, the towering walls guarding it. And beyond them, that alien unease, wariness—or faintly, outright hostility.
Snicker.
"Out in the open, huh."
With a light chuckle, I drew my sword.
Shing!!
Using that clear metallic ring as the signal, I unleashed my energy. The aura I emitted crushed the area ahead like an overwhelming presence and intimidation.
"...!"
"Guh!"
Beyond the iron bars swallowed by darkness as the streetlamps went out, I heard several people gulping in shock. With an utterly indifferent gaze, I scanned the presences there and drawled flatly.
"Come out. Doesn't look like you're even trying to hide, so why keep hesitating?"
"..."
"If you're not coming, I don't mind striking first at the 'hoodlums' surrounding my mansion."
Crackle, sizzle—!
As my curt words landed, ashen sword energy began settling over my blade. A warning that I could cut down these 'hoodlums' anytime, any way, without issue.
"...Calm down for now, Kyle."
"Hm?"
Finally abandoning cover, a man in heavy armor stepped forward slowly. Dismounting from a fine-maned white steed with a light thud.
I knew the man. And he knew me. My smile deepened.
"Long time no see, Sir Philip."
"...Yes, it's been a while."
My tone shifted to polite formality. After all, the 'hoodlums' I'd labeled had revealed themselves.
A dozen or so, all clad in gleaming armor—the Imperial Knights.
The sharpest sword of His Imperial Majesty, the most loyal force to the throne. They also handled part of the capital's security as garrison troops.
The middle-aged man who'd dismounted had dark blond hair and blue eyes. Philip Lionheart. A baron of the empire and vice-captain of the Imperial Knights.
An exceptional swordsman teetering on the edge of 7th Hierarchy, said to be inching toward the Seven Strongest—including me. We'd met before, so normally we'd exchange warm greetings.
But.
"So, what's this about?"
"...What?"
This wasn't the time, with an armed knight detachment at my mansion door. I wasn't so oblivious as to miss the tense atmosphere.
Still veiling my blade in ashen aura, I fixed them with sharp eyes.
"What's the purpose of coming armed right up to my doorstep?"
"..."
"Depending on your answer, I might have to use force in self-defense."
I snapped my fingers lightly, and the mansion's barrier responded, swinging open the closed iron gate.
Creeeak—!
Unlike when we'd entered with Beatrice, it let out a eerie wail that might feel threatening to those outside. Sure enough, the knights—who'd been watching my every move—drew their swords in unison.
Shing! Shing!
My eyes went emotionless, the sword energy at my tip twitching faintly to strike—
"Stand down, all of you!"
"V-Vice Captain."
Philip Lionheart, the vice-captain, intervened. He waved his subordinates back urgently. As they hesitated, he broke into a sweat and addressed me.
"Kyle, ease up on the threats. I won't deny we gave cause for misunderstanding first, but sharpening blades like this will only breed strife with the Imperial House."
"'Breed strife,' you say."
I lowered my blade but countered with a chilling smile.
"If you wanted to talk, why bring the whole knight order? You should've come alone, Sir Philip. Not after tailing me and surrounding my home first."
"That's why...!"
Philip didn't back down. Grimacing as if the situation choked him, he shouted.
"It's all a misunderstanding. If bringing the knights felt like intimidation, I apologize. I get why you'd be displeased."
"..."
"...How about sheathing your sword first? This standoff isn't ideal for us either..."
"Hokma."
"...What?"
I cut him off, having already extended my senses to track a certain man hiding among the knights.
At my cold utterance of that name, the man paled in dismay. He hesitated briefly but, realizing my gaze pinned him, stepped out.
"...Mr. Kyle."
Hokma—my acquaintance and skilled alchemist—emerged from the knights, rubbing his forehead.
I'd suspected as much, and his presence among them had confirmed the chain of events. Still.
"Better to hear it straight from you. Most reliable that way."
"..."
"Right, Hokma?"
I twisted one corner of my mouth in a smirk, sending him a gaze thick with disappointment.
"Tell me. Why contact the Imperial Knights right after I left, bringing them here to my mansion? And..."
"...I."
"What did you see in my daughter's blood test to turn that pale?"
At those added words, Hokma clamped his half-opened mouth shut. His eyes wavered ambiguously as he looked up at me cautiously.
"...Good grief."
As if realizing something, he let out a deep sigh and muttered in resignation.
"You already knew. About what fate Miss Beatrice was born into—you knew it all..."
I didn't reply, but Hokma seemed convinced. Biting his lip in disbelief, he muttered while avoiding my eyes.
"...That power is dangerous. You know that, right? The 'Blood Incident' a century ago—the one where the Eltman margraviate fell overnight."
"Who knows."
I responded in even tones, devoid of emotion.
"It's fallout from poorly recorded texts. Historians agree the incident was exaggerated. Didn't you hear?"
"That's not the point...!"
Unlike me, Hokma trembled faintly, his face drained of color. As if broaching the topic terrified him, he squeezed his eyes shut and continued.
"The mere possibility makes it dangerous. It could upend the empire. Reporting to the Imperial House... is a citizen's duty."
"..."
I offered no retort. This silence differed from before. Truthfully, I had no intention of debating or discoursing on this.
Even if Hokma warned of Beatrice's danger or reported her to the throne, I didn't care. I wouldn't condemn the act itself—it was, as he said, a "duty."
I simply wouldn't listen to whatever he said about her, no matter how he framed it.
...If my convictions were so easily shaken, I never would've adopted her as my daughter.
Long before Hokma's warning, I'd have found Beatrice myself and severed her neck. No surer, safer method without loose ends existed.
But I adopted Beatrice. I took in that future calamity as my daughter.
I'd never regret this choice, and even if I could turn back time, I wouldn't.
Even now, I was utterly certain—I was walking the right path.
"Haha."
A faint smile touched my lips, making Hokma and Philip flinch simultaneously. I regarded them calmly, then slowly swept my gaze over the knights behind.
"So."
"..."
"What's your intent? Since my daughter's future threatens the empire, eliminate her before it's too late?"
At my blunt question, Hokma—who'd only vaguely warned of her danger till now—bit his lip hard. The emotion flickering across his face was unmistakably guilt. Nay, a sense of sin.
I turned indifferently to Philip. He sighed with relative composure and answered.
"...First, the palace will verify Alchemist Hokma's testimony. With a court alchemist's aid, they'll draw blood from your foster daughter for reexamination."
"And?"
"..."
I slung my sword over my shoulder with a casual thud, narrowing my eyes coolly with veiled intent.
"Then what? If the retest confirms Hokma, what next?"
"...That's."
"Admit her danger and dispose of her?"
Philip's mouth clamped shut—an answer in itself. I chuckled softly and slowly lowered my sword.
Then, one step.
Thud—!!
"...!"
I closed the distance sharply with a powerful stomp, leveling my blade at them.
"My answer's simple, Sir Philip."
"Kyle, you...!"
"Get out of my house right now."
I'm not soft enough to show courtesy to those threatening my family. As I declared it with ashen eyes flashing, Philip rubbed his forehead in distress.