Chapter 80
Chapter 80
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 80
Chapter Title: 25. Not Just One, But Many (3)
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Just a short while ago, the Marquis of Montpellier had treated me like one of his underlings, speaking to me with utter disrespect. Yet for some reason, the bastard was now showing a decent level of decorum.
But that didn't change the fact that he was nothing more than a dog wearing human skin.
Because that mutt had barked so noisily, the lords from the central and northern regions had been too startled to move. Countless people who didn't need to die had perished as a result.
In other words, the Marquis of Montpellier standing before me was the very culprit who had turned the north into a wasteland.
Killing intent surged within me.
I forcefully suppressed my rage and hatred.
I wanted to strike him down right then and there, but neither I nor the kingdom had the power to deal with his backers.
This was a time to endure.
Forcing back my anger only made bile rise in my throat.
In my mind, I repeated countless reasons not to kill the marquis.
But as I kept convincing myself, a sudden thought crossed my mind.
This was the northernmost frontier outpost, a place where not even the kingdom's gaze reached properly, let alone the empire's. People often lost their lives to unannounced blizzards sweeping in without warning on the roads.
It meant that killing one of the empire's dogs here wouldn't be noticed by anyone.
If I buried him somewhere in the snowfields, the northern blizzards would cover all traces on their own. For extra thoroughness, I could haul his corpse to some spot in the mountains and dump it.
The monsters there would devour a soft human body without leaving even a scrap of bone behind.
And if anyone asked about the marquis later, I could just feign ignorance.
Blizzards, remnants of orcs we hadn't fully exterminated—excuses were plentiful.
I began to seriously contemplate it.
"Hmm..."
As I weighed whether to slit the marquis's throat, the ranger who had announced the herald's arrival signaled me with the hand signs used by rangers.
Deciphering the signal, I frowned.
The ranger's message meant the shrewd marquis had already informed various places of his itinerary as a precaution.
Still unable to let go, I asked if pursuit and elimination were possible before other cavalry arrived.
The ranger made subtle gestures to avoid alerting the marquis.
Seventy percent if the weather held; twenty percent if snow fell midway.
It was far too risky just to kill one imperial dog.
Of course, the harm that dog had inflicted on the north was outrageously immense. In any case, it seemed I had to leave the marquis's head attached to his shoulders for the time being.
The day would come when I'd make him pay back tenfold in blood.
"Your Highness...?"
Unaware that he'd just escaped death by a hair, the marquis gazed at me with a disgustingly concerned expression.
"We're not close enough for that kind of affection."
The Marquis of Montpellier's eyebrow twitched.
He'd gone out of his way to show respect, but my informal tone had bruised his ego. He quickly schooled his features, however, and replied with a sly grin.
"Even so, we once schemed together on great matters. If Your Highness keeps being so distant, it's rather troubling."
I froze, on the verge of sending him packing.
"Great matters?"
The marquis signaled with his eyes for the others to leave.
"Out."
At my word, the rangers and herald who had been at my side withdrew.
Now it was just the marquis and me.
"What great matter did we scheme on?"
"Are you pretending not to know?"
The marquis prattled on with a sinister look.
"No. I genuinely have no idea."
"Your Highness, this is problematic. I came here in good faith."
As I glared at his increasingly baffling words, the marquis's expression turned icy.
"First Prince. Now that you've gained that flimsy reputation as the north's savior, you've decided to finally play the part of a prince, have you?"
With his mask off, he spoke as if issuing a threat.
"Don't delude yourself. A bit of fame won't wash away the filth staining your body."
Instinctively, I realized the original owner of this body had committed something unforgivable.
The problem was that I had no idea what it was.
Fortunately, the one who could provide answers was standing right in front of me.
"You're trash who sold out your own kingdom's knights. If the northerners learned of that past, do you think they'd still follow you as they do now?"
Having revealed his true colors, the marquis answered before I could even ask.
"The fortress you built in the north is nothing but a sandcastle that a single wave could crumble. Do you think they'd continue to idolize you if they knew you were a snitch and a traitor?"
"What did I snitch about?"
"No shame at all. But I'll tell you. It's a stain on you, but a merit for me—nothing I can't speak of."
The Marquis of Montpellier poured out his words with a face full of contempt.
The Leonberger royal family's secret forces, cultivated over generations with astronomical costs and manpower—a grand plan that the wastrel had sold out entirely to the empire.
As a result, knights equivalent to three full orders had severed their own chains. And not just severed them; to avoid the empire's clutches, they'd denied their relationship with the sovereign they'd sworn loyalty to.
"Truly loyal men. If they'd been born in the empire, they could have been used greatly. What a pity they met such an incompetent lord."
The Marquis of Montpellier disgustingly wagged his tongue.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
Knights denying their lord through blood and tears, hurling the insult of imperial lapdog at the one they'd pledged loyalty to and choosing instead to become rebels. And the sovereign who could do nothing but watch it all unfold.
The tragic scene played out vividly in my mind as if I'd witnessed it myself.
My head throbbed.
Knowing the wastrel's nature, I'd been confident that no revelation of his past misdeeds would surprise me.
But I'd been wrong.
He was filthier than I'd ever imagined.
I'd never dreamed he'd betray the royal family's grand plan and sell out his own kingdom's knights.
And now I understood.
The source of the king's hateful gaze and cold treatment whenever he looked at me.
I realized it then.
The way the king had treated his eldest son like vermin wasn't excessive at all.
Now that I knew the wastrel's original sin, I couldn't fathom why the king had spared this pest. If it were me, I'd have beaten him to death a hundred, a thousand times over. I'd have torn him to shreds so not even a corpse remained.
"Looks like it's coming back to you now."
The Marquis of Montpellier sneered at my expression.
"The reason you're still alive is because the empire doesn't want you dead. And without the empire's backing, you can never become king."
He was right.
The king would never allow his eldest son—the one who'd sold out the kingdom's knights—to ascend the throne.
"But worry not."
The Marquis of Montpellier spoke with a face as if bestowing a great favor.
"That's why I've come here."
He looked at me and said,
"I'll make you king."
It was absurd. The audacity of him speaking as if a foreign throne were already in his grasp.
But the absurdity lay with the wastrel, not the marquis.
The marquis was merely a touch smug, gazing at the puppet caught in an inescapable trap.
"Conditions?"
"Just handle the occasional tasks I give you. Beyond that, you can revel in all the pleasures and power of kingship as you please."
The marquis spoke as if we were already in the same boat. His face was filled with the firm belief that the royal family's informant could never refuse him.
And in a way, he was correct.
With such a crime weighing on him, and that weakness in hand, one had no choice but to obey—even if it meant pretending to die.
"What happened to those knights who severed their chains?"
"We didn't kill them. No need. In fact, their survival is a greater burden on the king."
I let out a sigh of relief.
"Good. Means there's still a chance to make amends."
I spoke to the frowning marquis, who clearly didn't understand.
"You have their roster or something?"
"Why bring that up suddenly..."
"Feels wrong leaving it like that."
The marquis's eyes widened before he burst into hearty laughter.
"More meticulous than I thought."
"That's how I am."
I smiled back at him.
The Marquis of Montpellier boasted that advance funds for our secret pact were en route to Winter Castle.
"I'll put them to good use."
There was no reason to refuse what he was offering.
"Then, Your Highness, I sincerely hope you shine brightly on the royal road."
The marquis bowed to me with utmost familiarity.
"Stay safe until then."
I returned a smile and courteous reply.
"You be careful too, Marquis. Some of those orcs that overran the castle are still out there, wandering alive."
"Goodness. Such perils. But with the wise Your Highness and the valiant northern soldiers working tirelessly day and night, those vermin—"
"Hope you're right."
I saw the marquis off.
"Gunoo."
Once he was out of sight, I summoned the Sword Maiden.
She appeared without a sound, and I gave her several orders. Nodding, she led a few Sword Maidens away.
Toward the direction the marquis's group had taken.
After Gunoo departed, I called for Antuan, the leader of the Silver Foxes.
"Your Highness, I've come at your command."
I handed an envelope to Antuan, who fawned excessively.
"Track down everyone on this list and bring them to me."
"All of them?"
"Not a single one left out."
After glancing over the list, the Silver Foxes' leader tucked the envelope away and replied,
"There are so many, it'll take some time to find them all."
"Doesn't matter. Just maintain strict security."
"Wouldn't dream otherwise."
With an exaggerated flourish, Antuan vanished.
I gazed for a moment in the direction the Marquis of Montpellier had gone, then returned to the castle.
The Marquis of Montpellier departed Winter Castle in high spirits.
Having collared the mad dog of a First Prince, the grueling journey had been worth it.
"This should be enough."
With the First Prince well in hand, if questioned back home, he could brush it off by claiming he'd already coordinated a northern defense plan through the prince.
Overcome this crisis, and the path ahead would be smooth sailing.
He'd ensured the royal heir could never defy the empire's commands. There was nothing left to worry about.
Upon return, he'd immediately mobilize the nobles to thrust the First Prince onto the stage. He'd fallen asleep in his carriage the night before, plotting just that.
But when he awoke, the world had changed.
Pitch darkness. He couldn't see a thing, couldn't move a muscle.
He tried to shout for help, but some unknown object crammed into his mouth prevented even that.
All he could do was writhe in terror, drooling uncontrollably.
What in the world was happening?
The marquis couldn't comprehend what had befallen him.
With the north's atmosphere so volatile from the chaos of war, had vagrants dared assault even a noble's carriage?
It didn't add up.
If it were vagrants, his escort knights would have cut them down in an instant.
Orcs, then?
That made no sense either. Beasts driven by instinct alone would have killed him on the spot.
He racked his brain over and over, but no answers came.
A strange grassy scent, utterly out of place, only deepened his confusion.
How much time passed like that?
Deprived of sight, he couldn't even tell.
Rustle.
Lost in bewilderment, the blindfold suddenly came loose.
Blinded by the sudden sunlight, he squinted for a long while, blinking dazedly. Then he realized a familiar face was right in front of him.
"Mmph!"
"Guess we should remove the gag too."
No sooner had the words left than rough hands yanked the cloth wad from his mouth.
"Gah!"
After retching violently, the Marquis of Montpellier jerked his head up.
There stood the assailant—no, the First Prince.
"What is the meaning of this!"
The marquis bellowed in fury, but the First Prince just grinned.
"No, I really tried to hold back at first."
Yet that smile was eerily chilling.
"But you keep giving me reasons to kill you."
"What? You think you'll get away with this unscathed!"
"Who knows. But right now, it looks like you're the one who's not safe, Marquis."
At the First Prince's words, the marquis looked around.
Green-cloaked figures encircled them. Beyond that, nothing but pristine white snowfields.
Terror gripped the marquis.
"Y-Your Highness. Face reality."
If he could just survive and return, he could exact revenge for this humiliation. A momentary disgrace was bearable.
"Without my backing, Your Highness can never ascend the throne. The king will never allow the royal family's snitch—who dashed his aspirations—to take the crown."
The marquis truly believed it.
"You're right. A snitch can't become king."
The First Prince expressed deep agreement with the marquis's thinking.
"So release me now, and we can pretend this ne—"
"But here's the thing."
Before the brightening marquis could finish his persuasion, the First Prince cut in.
"I can."
His voice was resolute as he said it.
"I've already dragged one king down."
His expression brimmed with unshakable confidence.
The marquis could only tremble in fear, prostrating himself flat and begging for his life.