Chapter 67
Chapter 67
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ace
Chapter: 67
Chapter Title: Declaration of War (1)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Federback opened his mouth with an expressionless face.
"Living only in the forest must be why it's so quaint. I'll give you a hundred times that."
The amount Queenbits had demanded was one million gold.
A hundred times that was a staggering one hundred million gold.
One hundred million gold was enough to buy an entire city outright.
With a bit of exaggeration, it was enough to found a small kingdom and play the king.
Rorschach's mouth fell wide open.
Queenbits, not entirely ignorant of human affairs, wore a dazed expression.
"...Is that even possible?"
"I'm saying it because it is."
"A man of capability."
"In exchange, hurry your research. With this support, you should be able to advance the deadline, right?"
Queenbits nodded at Federback's words.
At that moment, Rorschach cut in.
"Um, Young Master? The house has grown much wealthier lately, but it's not to the point where we can just toss a hundred million gold at one department's research budget."
"I know. I'll cover it from my personal funds, so don't worry."
"You must have an enormous amount of personal wealth."
"I found a few treasure vaults."
"Heavens, really? Was there some heirloom treasure vault passed down through generations in your usual training cave?"
Federback nodded as if it were no big deal at Rorschach's words.
Even scraping off a tiny bit from the mountain of treasures found in the Meursault House Secret Vault made a hundred million gold a joke.
On top of that, with the gold, jewels, and even mithril mined from the Beauvoir Mine, research funding was no issue at all.
Queenbits perched on the arm of a chair.
"If the research materials are ample, we can complete it far ahead of schedule. The reason experiments have been delayed so far is that we lacked funds to buy expensive materials and had to make them ourselves. If we can purchase them with money, there's no reason for any delay."
"Good news. Research funds will be provided without fail. I'll pay in gold bullion or jewels rather than cash, so handle the exchange through Chief Steward Rorschach here."
Federback jerked his chin toward Rorschach beside him.
Rorschach clutched her face with her hand.
"Another headache of a task just got added. And one that devours a massive fortune."
"Hey, human woman. Headache? Consider it an honor to contribute to this glorious endeavor. If this research succeeds, we'll have to rewrite human history."
"Failing the research has its own merits. No need to bother rewriting history."
"Don't flap that impudent tongue. I'm a mage. I could turn you into a frog in an instant."
"If you turn me into a frog, who'll pay your research funds? Living carefree by a well, catching bugs for life without worrying about funding anyone—sounds nice. Go ahead and try."
"......"
"......"
Rorschach, born and raised in the abyss, wasn't the least bit intimidated by Queenbits's glare.
Right then.
Thud thud thud thud thud!
Raucous footsteps echoed from outside the door.
Soon after, the door burst open without so much as a knock.
"Young Master!"
The late-night visitor to Federback's room was none other than Sir Haundid.
Before Federback could even ask what was wrong, he got straight to the point.
"The merchant caravans that went out on trade have returned! B-But...!"
The atmosphere was visibly off at a glance.
Federback rose from his seat.
"Attacked?"
"Y-Yes... that's right!"
Sir Haundid started to say more but cut himself off and answered promptly.
Federback turned his head.
"Meeting's over. Both of you, return to your duties."
An extremely icy voice.
Eyes utterly different from those during the research discussion moments ago.
Federback emanated a cold, alien aura, as if he'd become another person.
"Yes......"
Rorschach and Queenbits could only nod without a peep.
Federback headed straight to the castle gate.
The merchants who had finished their trade run and their escort troops were returning.
"Executor!"
The captain leading the knights spotted Federback and immediately saluted.
Federback asked.
"I heard you were attacked."
"Yes. We had just finished the trade and were on our way back. While passing through the forest, we were ambushed by assassins cloaked in black robes. I remember about fifty of them. There was a brief clash, and we succeeded in driving them off, but we couldn't kill or capture any."
"After the money?"
"Not sure about that. But they were well-trained."
"Our casualties?"
"One soldier killed."
The knight turned his head.
A white cloth draped a cart in the back.
He continued in a heavy tone.
"They withdrew without leaving a single trace, so we couldn't identify them. I considered pursuit but thought there might be an ambush, so we returned first."
"There was probably an ambush on the forest outskirts. Good call."
Facing fifty well-trained enemies and suffering only one death was a pretty decent outcome.
But.
"......"
Federback gazed down at the white cloth covering the cart.
The cloth was stained red in spots.
Flutter—
Pulling back the cloth revealed the fallen soldier's corpse lying inside.
The soldier looked to have just entered his late teens.
A youthful face that hadn't even shed its baby fat.
Below it, deep knife wounds scarred his chest and side.
Federback asked the knight standing beside him.
"I don't recall conscripting any boys nineteen or younger. How old was he?"
"......Fifteen."
"Why was a fifteen-year-old in my command?"
"Heard he forged his dead brother's papers and enlisted. His mother was gravely ill and needed medicine, but they had no money."
"How did the brother die?"
"Three years ago, during wall repairs, a shoddily built section collapsed, killing or injuring many workers. He was one of the dead."
"I see."
Federback stroked his chin in thought.
The knight stood by, watching his expression.
Soon, Federback spoke.
"Soldiers who die on missions receive condolence pay."
"Yes."
"But not in this case. He forged documents."
"......That's also true."
The knight bowed his head.
Not only had a soldier under his command died, but now no condolence pay either—his heart must have been devastated.
However, Federback's next words were somewhat unexpected.
"But the dead soldier's mother is a different story. Both her sons died serving the Meursault House. Thus, the Meursault House must show her more filial piety than her own sons could."
Federback commanded the knight.
"Treat this man's mother as you would my own. Cover not just treatment costs but all future living expenses from the Meursault House. Does she have other children?"
"Yes. A daughter of marriageable age and a youngest son around five or six."
"Fully support the daughter's wedding expenses too, even childcare after she marries and has children. Also, exempt the youngest son from all taxes until he reaches adulthood. And......"
To the knight whose face was gradually brightening, Federback added a single icy remark.
"The Meursault House will fully support not only her livelihood from now on but also her vengeance. The moment we identify the culprits, war will break out. Prepare."
"Yes, sir!"
The knight's expression turned resolute once more.
The other knights who had gathered beside him were the same.
The soldier's funeral was conducted as a state funeral.
The entire Red Lily Square was draped in mourning cloth, and atop the towering pyre, flames soared as if to touch the heavens.
The mother, who had sent her son off first, gazed at the altar and sobbed bitterly.
Her grown daughter and young son supported their mother's shoulders.
Roar roar roar roar roar...
The deceased's final dance unfolded atop the pyre of firewood.
Each time the flames billowed red, every Northerner bowed their head in condolence.
The first trade expedition, and the first sacrifice.
The first drop of blood opening the iron-blooded path where countless more would fall.
"......"
Federback stood as chief mourner in the midst of the grand funeral.
Soon, Federback raised his head.
His blindingly white hair and the blood-red eyes gleaming beneath it.
Federback turned, his black mourning robes—the mark of chief mourner—billowing.
Behind him stood the knights of the Meursault House.
They too wore black mourning garb over heavy plate armor, ready to charge into battle at any moment.
"This boy's death is our death."
The knights' eyes changed sharply at Federback's words.
"Do you intend to let the ones who killed you go free?"
"No!"
A burly knight spat as he shouted.
Federback nodded.
"I autopsied this boy all last night. And I found multiple pieces of meaningful evidence on his body."
Everyone at the funeral focused on Federback.
Federback said.
"A cut entering from the right waist, severing the left collarbone on the way up. A low stance with a short sword gripped in reverse grip, thrust diagonally upward—that leaves such a mark. There's only one sword style in the North that includes such a unique posture."
The knights trembled with rage.
An aura on the verge of explosion.
Federback continued.
"Furosange House. The ones who were once vassals of the Meursault House. It's exactly their sword style."
The knights, soldiers, and even the bereaved family glared with bloodshot eyes.
Federback's voice grew even colder.
"The killers mutilated the corpse multiple times to erase the distinctive knife mark they left."
"Rip those bastards apart!"
Someone in the crowd shouted.
Federback responded.
"Can we call men who hack a corpse indiscriminately to hide their sword style Northerners?"
"No! They're beasts!"
Another voice cried out.
Federback nodded.
"A true swordsman must take pride in his blade. Yet these scum defiled an innocent fifteen-year-old boy's tender body to conceal theirs. When I find and kill the perpetrators, is it murder or butchery?"
"Butchery!"
The knights shouted in unison.
Federback nodded at that.
"From today, I am no longer a knight. You lot set aside your knightly honor for now too."
Federback drew his sword.
A blade carved from an ice dragon's fang; it retained its original owner's name.
Federback tossed the famed sword Adara onto the dirt.
An act no knight should ever commit.
"Until we catch the killers, I will be a hunter. Once caught, an executioner. What about you?"
"We will follow!"
But every knight gathered there threw their swords onto the dirt after Federback.
Federback drew the hand axe from his belt.
"The boy we sent off on the river of flames today was my friend, brother, older brother, and nephew. I will never spare the beasts who harmed my family."
"Wooooh!"
The knights drew weapons from their belts.
Not swords, but curved blades, hand axes, saws, scythes, hammers.
Weapons befitting hunters soared into the air.
Federback nodded.
"Now, we go to hunt the Furosange."
It was time to normalize one of the five fingers.
If it was too rotten to rehabilitate, it would have to be severed.