Chapter 81
Chapter 81
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 81
Chapter Title: 27. The Sage Who Chose Eternity Over Eternal Sleep (1)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Those on the brink of death generally fall into one of two categories.
They either accept everything and resign themselves to fate, or they struggle desperately until the very last moment.
The Marquis of Montpellier was the latter.
The marquis, hacked to pieces by the sword maidens, crawled on his belly and prostrated himself at my feet.
"Y-Your Highness... please spare me... at least my life..."
His mind half-broken from the sword maidens' relentless cuts throughout the night, the marquis begged me desperately.
"If you just spare me, I'll become Your Highness's dog. I'll bark if you tell me to bark, and I'll play dead if you tell me to die!"
He truly had an obscene attachment to life.
Even as he offered to bark like a dog, he carefully avoided saying he'd actually die on command.
"The former head of the Giern family is a cuckoo's child born between the countess and her lover. The eldest son of the central Valtes family is sleeping with his vassals' wives..."
Out of nowhere, the marquis began spilling the nobles' dirty secrets in front of me.
"And there's more! I have evidence of the nobles' misdeeds and corruption! If you spare me, I'll hand it all over to Your Highness! With that alone, no noble would dare defy you!"
I could see exactly how the marquis had been manipulating the kingdom's nobles all this time.
"Please show mercy! Then I will become Your Highness's dog!"
The marquis clung to my feet. I stared at him blankly before brushing his hand away with a flick, as if shaking off filth from my body.
I gazed off into the distance beyond the snowfield. Dawn was breaking.
I had watched the marquis suffer through the night, but it brought me no satisfaction.
Catching one imperial dog wasn't enough to wash away the deep-seated resentment staining this land. The blood debt of the northerners who died in vain could only be paid with blood of equal weight.
The road ahead was long. I stood up and gave Gunne a glance.
She approached with an expressionless face, her white skin stained entirely with blood.
Crunch. Crunch.
At the sound of footsteps echoing across the snowfield, the marquis shuddered in terror.
"Y-Your Highness! I can blind and deafen the empire for you! Then all the things the kingdom lost will fall into Your Highness's hands!"
Gunne grabbed the marquis by the hair and yanked his head back.
"Urk!"
Gunne's sword pressed against the marquis's throat.
"I-I can even lift the seal on the Magic Tower!"
At the marquis's strangled words, I raised my hand. Her sword, already half-buried in his neck, stopped instantly.
"The seal on the Magic Tower?"
"By the archmage's authority and the treaty terms, I can permit the training of mages and open the Magic Tower!"
The marquis clung to me like a lifeline.
"Tell me more."
I sat back down, watching him.
"First, what is this treaty?"
**
As the marquis's explanation continued, I felt my facial muscles stiffen.
This wasn't a treaty—it was effectively a slave contract.
Not a single clause benefited the kingdom.
The treaty was tantamount to the kingdom voluntarily severing its own limbs and declaring itself a vassal state.
Even to train its own army, the kingdom needed the empire's permission. Not just the army—the knight orders were the same.
The kingdom's knights could not exceed a certain number, and the kingdom was obligated to report the full roster to the empire, including each knight's location and movements.
No omissions allowed.
It was an absurd clause. But there were even more humiliating and wretched ones.
Knights and soldiers at least had some leeway for training.
The clauses on mages effectively banned their cultivation outright, in the most vicious way.
The Magic Tower's doors were locked, and no new magic research was allowed. War magic research and training were forbidden; only healing magic could be practiced.
No one but an idiot would aspire to become a mage under such harsh conditions. And mages weren't idiots—they were sharp-minded folk.
Those brilliant minds must have fled to places where research and training were free.
Now I understood.
Why not a single mage had joined the war in the north.
They hadn't refrained from participating. There simply weren't any left.
"Ha."
A hollow laugh escaped me in disbelief.
This wasn't even a country anymore.
The kingdom had already lost its sovereignty and become little more than an imperial watchdog. It wouldn't be strange to call it one of the empire's provinces.
Everyone in the kingdom knew, except for me.
I looked at the Marquis of Montpellier.
How absurd it was that this pathetic wretch, who would sell out his own country after a few cuts, held the leash of that watchdog.
Sensing my foul mood, the marquis paled and quickly proposed.
"I can't erase the clauses entirely, but I can loosen some restrictions within my authority. As you know, the north suffered such great damage this time."
"Thanks to whom."
The marquis grew even more desperate.
"I'll temporarily permit war magic training and research, and lift the Magic Tower's seal up to the third floor."
The Magic Tower wasn't just a building.
It was the codification of the ancient sages' compilation of the world's mysteries—a gateway to those mysteries itself.
The number of floors determined the depth and variety of mysteries accessible to mages. Lifting the seal to the third floor meant permitting research and training in third-circle magic.
It seemed like a decent offer.
If it hadn't come from some foreign ambassador.
The country was running splendidly.
But what could be done?
The lion kingdom that had forced the empire to relocate its capital 400 years ago no longer existed. The current kingdom was a petty state that would scatter at a mere puff from the empire.
For now, buying time was key.
"A-And there's so much more I can do for you."
Whether my displeasure showed or not, the marquis shouted like a condemned man with a noose around his neck.
I pondered.
Beheading the marquis right here would be simple.
One swing of Eclipse, and he'd die in that groveling pose.
But it would only be a momentary vent; the backlash afterward would be another matter.
Even so, I was about to sever his neck.
Back when I didn't know about the treaty.
If imperial personnel came snooping around the north to investigate the Marquis of Montpellier's death, it could cause problems.
All my past actions—and future ones—violated the treaty.
I gathered my thoughts and made a decision.
"Fine. Keeping one imperial dog around isn't such a bad idea."
The marquis brightened at my words.
With death's terror upon him, he clearly didn't care about pride or face. Or perhaps he thought he could pay me back once he escaped this crisis.
"You won't regret this!"
To me, it sounded like a promise to make me regret it.
"But you know."
The marquis, exhaling in relief, flinched and looked at me. Watching him, I released the suppressed pressure I'd been holding back.
"A dog should lie flat like a proper dog."
"Guh!"
Letting out a groan as if his throat were being strangled, the marquis flattened himself to the ground.
Unlike moments ago, when he'd scanned my mood and sought escape while claiming to be my dog, now his face was buried in the snow, barely breathing, his body pressed flat against the ground—belly, chest, everything—trembling in spasms.
I laughed at the sight.
It was the perfect posture of a dog before its master.
All that remained was to collar this ill-tempered mutt.
And conveniently, I had the perfect leash.
"Swear it. Swear that your master is not the Emperor of Burgundy, but me."
At that moment, [Eye of Dominion] activated. The usurper's energy fused into my soul amplified it.
"I-I swear. My master is not the emperor, but Your Highness."
The marquis parroted my words, unaware of what he was saying.
"I swear here and now that my fate—today and tomorrow—lies in Your Highness's hands."
Even adding words I hadn't commanded, he seemed utterly subjugated.
But the human mind is subtle and resilient. No matter how much I crushed him with pressure or bound him with my eye, fully converting the marquis was impossible.
In time, he'd forget the oath and remember only today's humiliation.
Even if that day came, I left a token to prevent him from reneging.
I made him write a blood oath insulting the imperial emperor and pledging loyalty to me, including imperial secrets and intelligence that must never be revealed. Then I had him sign it personally and stamp it with the Montpellier family seal.
"Wh-what?"
Seeing the blood oath he'd written, the marquis looked dumbfounded. Even in his dominated state, with his mind sluggish, he realized something was wrong.
Too late—he'd woven the chains himself and hung them around his own neck.
"Tch, you're hurt pretty bad."
I helped the marquis to his feet.
"I told you to be careful. The north is dangerous."
The marquis rolled his eyes frantically.
I dragged the pathetic man back to Winter Castle.
"Your Highness?"
Vincent and the other Winter Castle leaders scowled at the returning Marquis of Montpellier. I gave them a vague answer to their questioning glances.
"He was ambushed by orcs on the way back."
The men's expressions turned strange at my words.
Having fought orcs for so long, they knew how ridiculous that was.
The wounds from orcs and sword maidens were distinctly different.
"What rotten luck."
Vincent said ambiguously—whether referring to the marquis's return or the orc ambush.
"Whichever orc it was, it must've been properly trained with the sword."
Another knight admired the wounds on the marquis's body.
From his tone, he clearly knew who had inflicted them.
As I expected.
I dumped the marquis in a remote corner and returned to my quarters, where Vincent was waiting in my chambers.
"What the hell happened?"
Vincent demanded straight away. Instead of answering, I pulled the marquis's blood oath from my bosom.
His eyes widened as if they might tear.
"Think carefully about what we need right now."
I told him to ponder what we couldn't do under the empire's watchful eye, especially while the marquis was here.
"We caught a sucker."
Vincent's blunt words rang true, so I just smiled.
**
There was plenty of time to consider our needs.
Tortured mercilessly by the sword maidens and struck in the spirit, the Marquis of Montpellier languished long after returning to Winter Castle.
Only after a fortnight did he regain his senses and flee Winter Castle under the escort of the silver foxes I assigned him.
"The Magic Tower, huh..."
Soon after arriving in the capital, the marquis sent one item.
It was a crystal orb adorned with all sorts of jewels. At a glance, it seemed useless except as a desk ornament, but it had a function I didn't know about.
A communication crystal.
Surprisingly, the orb allowed instant communication, ignoring the distance between the capital and Winter Castle.
"Well, after 400 years, at least one field should have advanced."
I activated the crystal with pleasure.
The method was simple.
Just infuse a bit of mana.
『Your Highness.』
The marquis's voice came from beyond the crystal.
"Oh!"
His grating voice sounded merely novel right now.
『Just place your hand on the crystal and speak.』
"Like this?"
『Yes. Very good, Your Highness.』
As I examined the crystal's features while listening to the sly marquis, I seethed anew at the empire's greed and the kingdom's weakness.
To think we hadn't enjoyed such a fine tool. With this, we could have reduced the war's casualties.
『It's not common even in the empire.』
Sensing my mood, the marquis explained defensively.
There were only a few in the empire, but as an ambassador, he had an extra for emergencies and gave it to me this time.
『I've sent a dispatch to the homeland regarding lifting the Magic Tower's seal and training mages, and received a positive response.』
"Good. Anything else?"
Before the marquis left, I'd demanded one more thing beyond lifting the existing seal.
『Approval has also been granted for constructing a new Magic Tower in the north.』
Even if the existing tower's seal was lifted, the remote north wouldn't benefit much. So I'd demanded permission for a new one here—third floor or fourth—and the marquis had delivered splendidly.
『However, the kingdom's finances may not bear the enormous cost of design and construction. As Your Highness knows, we lack both Magic Tower blueprints and mages to build it.』
"No need to worry."
『Your Highness, the Magic Tower is so complex that even imperial mages barely recreate it using ancient texts... And even if built, a senior mage must reside to manage it. Without homeland aid, the kingdom can't build, let alone maintain it. Plus, we'll need teachers for the mages...』
"I said none of that's needed."
The marquis prattled on, but I ignored him.
I knew someone profoundly versed in ancient knowledge to build the tower—and manage it indefinitely afterward. Someone competent enough to devour ordinary mages for breakfast.