Chapter 180
Chapter 180
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 180
Chapter Title: 56. Montpellier! Oh, Montpellier! (1)
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The first to notice the signs was Cliang de Bourgogne Montpellier.
He was officially under house arrest at the moment.
There was no real need to restrain him physically, given that he had already defected to the Kingdom of Leonberger in earnest. But his defection was still classified information, so he found himself playing the role of a "prisoner" against his better judgment.
Of course, that was just how it looked from the outside. In reality, he could leave the house anytime he wanted.
That day, too, he was prowling the capital's streets, hood pulled low over his cloak to gauge the mood.
"If it weren't for that damned Fire Dragon."
He grumbled incessantly about his sorry state, reduced to trudging on foot without even a carriage. Then, amid the passing crowds, he spotted a familiar face and froze.
"Huh. What the hell is that guy doing in the capital..."
The man was unmistakably an imperial knight. Montpellier remembered his face well from the few times they'd collaborated during the duke's mission.
Swoosh.
At that moment, the imperial knight turned his head toward him.
"Whoa."
Montpellier hastily pulled his hood down further and bowed his head. Then he quickened his pace.
Thankfully, no one followed. It seemed the knight hadn't recognized him. Just as he was about to sigh in relief, he spotted another familiar face up ahead.
It wasn't just one.
They were dressed like any ordinary citizens of the capital at a glance, but every last one was an imperial knight.
Not just any knights, either—the Emperor's Blades, directly under the Imperial Foreign Operations Division.
Montpellier hurried back home before they could spot him.
On the way, he checked for tails several times, then took a deliberately circuitous route. He even swapped his clothes for a pile of straw mats scattered on the street.
His heart pounded.
What if they had recognized him? What if they found it suspicious that a man under house arrest was wandering the capital in broad daylight? What if they were assassins sent to eliminate him now that they'd discovered his defection?
Horrible possibilities flooded his mind.
He was so terrified that he spent the entire night wide awake.
No assassins came.
He let out a sigh of relief. Only then did he realize his fears had been mere delusions.
There was no way they could've sniffed out his defection. They must be here to rescue the ambassador, who had been detained as a prisoner the moment war broke out.
"Wait. That monstrous prince isn't even in the capital right now."
This was the perfect chance to slip away from that thieving prince with the sticky fingers. But unfortunately, he couldn't seize it.
Even if they came to rescue him, it would only last until they reached the homeland. By then, his family's political enemies would have drawn their blades, and the rescuers would scatter like smoke.
"How did my life come to this?"
Montpellier sighed bitterly.
He hated the prince, resented the kingdom, and even loathed the Fire Dragon. His fate felt unbearably cruel.
He muttered curses to himself for a while, then broke down sobbing again.
Finally, he accepted it.
Adapting to life in the kingdom was now his only path to survival. Returning to the Empire would mean certain death at his rivals' hands.
For that to happen, the kingdom had to hold out against the Empire.
The odds weren't great.
But staying in the kingdom offered at least a sliver of hope compared to rotting on a guillotine his enemies had prepared.
Right now, even a 10% chance of survival was all he could cling to.
He could only pray the kingdom endured.
Lost in thoughts of the war, Montpellier suddenly remembered something he'd overlooked.
"What kind of scatterbrain am I? How could I forget something that important!"
He fumbled with a hidden compartment in his bedroom. With a click, it sprang open.
Inside was a document sealed with magic.
It was the one secret he'd refused to divulge even under the prince's brutal beatings.
In the unlikely event of war between the Empire and the kingdom, the imperial ambassadors were bound to follow specific directives.
Those instructions were contained in the sealed document.
He'd forgotten about it entirely, convinced a backwater nation like this would never dare rebel against the Empire.
Montpellier hesitated, then broke the seal.
Flash.
A burst of light flared, followed by a strange energy dispersing into the air.
He froze, scanning the room warily. Fortunately, nothing happened.
Sighing in relief, he pulled out the document and read it.
It outlined the directives imperial ambassadors must follow if war broke out, along with future plans.
The contents were so shocking and terrifying that Montpellier cried out in alarm.
"The Emperor's meticulousness exceeds even my expectations."
He shuddered. The Emperor's thorough preparations—even for the slim chance of the kingdom's independence—sent chills down his spine.
For a fleeting moment, he considered reneging on his defection and fleeing the capital.
Then the prince's face flashed in his mind.
Remembering the brutal prince who struck at every opportunity strangely calmed his trembling.
"If the Empire has a monstrous Emperor, the kingdom has that devil of a prince."
He steadied his resolve.
And pondered long and hard.
"Is anyone out—"
Having finally made up his mind, he called for a servant but clamped his mouth shut.
The single sheet of paper in his hand felt impossibly heavy. If it fell into the wrong hands, it could erase a mere titular marquis like him without a trace.
He decided to deliver it personally.
There was no time to waste.
A single misstep could sink the ship he'd just boarded to save his skin.
Montpellier headed straight for the palace.
And sought out the kingdom's new Grand Marshal.
"Looks like you're no longer afraid of the Empire's gaze. You insisted on playing the prisoner yourself."
Montpellier cut straight to the chase at Marquis Billefeld's words.
"Take a look at this."
"What is this..."
The Grand Marshal's face stiffened upon confirming the seal of the Bourgogne imperial family.
He read the document hastily. When he finished, his expression was as hard as stone.
"Is this real?"
"I've already spotted several imperial knights right in the heart of the capital. I can say with certainty that the plot has begun."
No sooner had Montpellier finished than the Grand Marshal bellowed for the knights outside.
"Anyone out there!"
"You called, sir?"
The knights assigned to the Grand Marshal's office rushed in.
"You—go to the Royal Knight Order and inform them to escort every single royal to the safe rooms without exception! You—tell the palace guard captain to seal the gates immediately, assemble the guards, and prepare for battle! The capital must be locked down right now as well. And you—gather the other knights and notify all legion commanders and above to report to the palace conference room!"
The knights' eyes widened at the sudden orders.
"Every second counts! Move!"
The Grand Marshal urged them on with uncharacteristic anxiety.
The knights bolted out with a thunder of footsteps.
The Grand Marshal sprang from his seat to don his gear.
"Follow me."
Marquis Montpellier trailed silently behind.
**
"What in the blazes is going on here?"
The Queen greeted the Grand Marshal and Marquis Montpellier in the conference room.
"Did you not receive the message?"
"I did... The others are all in the safe rooms, so no need for that worried look. I'm here as the royal representative while His Majesty is away."
It was unexpected to see the Queen—who should have been in hiding—in the conference room, but the Grand Marshal didn't try to persuade her otherwise now.
"Let's hear what this is about first."
"The Empire has long prepared for a potential war with us, hiding several blades right under our noses. The imperial knights infiltrating the capital are the first blade, the imperial troops positioned nearby the second, and the defected kingdom nobles the third."
The Grand Marshal nodded to Marquis Montpellier.
"I ran into several familiar faces yesterday. That means they're already active in earnest."
"And you knew of their presence all along?"
"Not until yesterday. I'd even worked with some of them before, but I thought they were just being dispatched from the homeland as needed—not that they'd embedded themselves in the capital like this."
"Hm."
The Queen stared piercingly at Montpellier.
"Believe me."
"Of course. Even if you returned home, a guillotine awaits. No reason to side with the Empire now."
Montpellier flinched. Her words struck too close to home.
As he moved to reaffirm his sincerity to the kingdom, the Queen spoke first.
"The threat from defected nobles has already been neutralized by that child. At least that's a relief."
One might expect shock at the sudden revelation, but her voice remained steadily calm.
"The infiltrating knights in the capital and the imperial troops marching here next are the problem. Grand Marshal, have you prepared countermeasures?"
"Their goal is surely to sow chaos with the infiltrated knights, open the capital gates, and ultimately overrun the palace. We'll lock the gates tight, bolster defenses, root out the infiltrators in the meantime, and prevent coordination from inside and out."
It was a textbook response.
But the Queen pointed out its flaw.
"Now that the palace and city gates are sealed, they'll realize we know of the plot. Flushing out those in hiding will be exceedingly difficult."
"In the heat of the moment, I didn't think that far. Punish this foolish servant for nearly botching it."
"I'm not blaming you. I know you prioritized the royals' safety above all. I only mentioned it as a small piece of advice."
With that, the Queen shared a tale from the North.
"Monsters never leave wounded behind after a fight. They devour allies and enemies alike to fill their bellies. Yet sometimes, rangers wounded in battle survive and make it near Winter Castle."
One might think the sudden northern anecdote out of place amid the urgency, but the Grand Marshal listened attentively without a hint of irritation.
"Watching a comrade groan in pain without helping is agonizing."
"The brave northern soldiers and knights could surely rescue them, couldn't they?"
"They could, but sometimes they can't."
The Grand Marshal even nodded along, his eyes gleaming as if he grasped her point.
"Because those wounded are bait. Opening the gates to save them would draw hordes of hidden orcs."
The Queen's gaze, fixed on the Grand Marshal, stopped in front of Montpellier.
"Shall we try being orcs for once?"
Montpellier shuddered for no reason he could name, not understanding the meaning in those clear eyes.