Fake
"Commander of the Fourth Corps, enter!"
The military band struck up a resounding march as the soldiers of the Fourth Corps filed through the main gate of the Imperial Palace in perfect formation. At their head, as expected, rode Reinhardt. Clad in heavy armor, he dismounted and strode into the palace with unshakable confidence.
Still the same as ever…
Vanessa watched him approach and let out a dry little laugh. Through the Eye of the Spirit King, Reinhardt's colors flickered and shifted from moment to moment — a swirling tangle of every emotion and disposition at once. Chaos itself. How did that man return from the battlefield looking exactly as he always had? Vanessa snorted under her breath.
"Welcome home, Reinhardt. You've fought battle after battle — well done. Tonight's banquet is in your honor, so take your ease. Let the men rest as well."
"A feast this lavish? I don't think I've seen one since your coronation, Sister! I accept the honor with gratitude!"
"I heard that when the Fourth Corps first crossed the border, you were hauling a great number of slaves as spoils of war. What became of them?"
"Ah. Those. I took care of them myself."
"…"
Vanessa's expression hardened. Took care of them himself? The reports had put the number of elven slaves alone at well over a thousand…
"Reinhardt. You don't mean to tell me—"
"Hahaha! Upset that I didn't set your share aside, Sister? No need to worry! I've prepared plenty of other spoils — far better than a bunch of filthy slaves!"
"That is not what I meant…!"
Vanessa clenched her teeth. The air around them turned frigid in an instant. Her fists trembled at her sides. The nobles held their breath, too stunned even to make a sound — until Reinhardt's voice shattered the silence.
"Sister. Is that all the protection you have?"
"…?"
With a chilling scrape of steel, a razor-edged blade slid free of Reinhardt's scabbard. The imperial guards jolted into motion, sealing a tight ring around the Empress. Reinhardt only smirked, as if the whole display amused him, and kicked off the ground.
BOOM!
The earth itself seemed to shudder as his figure shot forward. His afterimage stretched, thinned — and vanished entirely. The guards' eyes flew wide.
A Sword Master?!
Not a single one of them, mere Sword Experts, could track a movement like that. Panic set in; heads whipped left and right in a desperate search for Reinhardt.
"Above! Look up!"
"…?!"
A shadow fell from the sky. The ambush crashed down before anyone could react. Dull impacts rang out one after another; guards crumpled without landing a single exchange.
"Gah!"
"Aaaagh!"
In a heartbeat the living wall of bodyguards collapsed. Reinhardt charged straight at the Empress, who still looked entirely at ease. His blade carved a gleaming arc toward her — and met steel.
"Huff… hah…"
"You've lost, Reinhardt. You've improved quite a bit."
When the billowing dust finally settled, the scene that emerged was this: the captain of the guard braced against the descending sword, and the Empress herself, the tip of her scabbard pressed to Reinhardt's throat.
"To think you had reached the level of a Sword Master. Captain — you would agree that Reinhardt has attained that rank, would you not?"
"Y-yes? Ah, yes… There is no doubt…"
The captain stammered, still reeling. One moment the Empress had been grinding her teeth in fury; the next she was smiling. He couldn't begin to make sense of it.
"How is this my defeat? Are you saying you could kill me with that blunt scabbard of yours, Sister?"
"Yes. Easily."
"…?!"
Crackle…!
Sparks leapt from Vanessa's scabbard. In the next instant the sheath burned away completely and fell to the floor, revealing a blade wreathed in blue Aura. The energy seethed along the edge as if it meant to punch straight through Reinhardt's neck. Only then did he squeeze his eyes shut and let out a long sigh.
"You're right. I lose. I still can't use Aura…"
"At least you've learned how to accept a loss. When you were little you would refuse to concede and keep charging until you dropped."
"…Please forget those days."
Acknowledging his defeat, Reinhardt dropped to one knee and bowed his head. Vanessa gave his hair a couple of light pats, then withdrew her sword.
"So I need not worry about any further attacks tonight?"
"No, Sister. The right to challenge is once a month — that was the rule."
"Good. Come inside. Food is waiting."
The Empress turned as if nothing at all had happened. Reinhardt followed with a smile. The frozen nobles and the guards sprawled across the floor could only stare after the two of them in dazed silence.
"What are you all standing around for? Play the music again. This banquet feels more like a funeral."
"Sister! So when exactly do you plan to hand the throne over to me? I hear you're buried in work day and night — time to take a proper rest!"
"Not a chance. Dream on."
I was speechless. The second Reinhardt drew his sword, I had been certain a disaster was about to explode. Instead the fight ended after a handful of exchanges, and no one was even hurt. From the sound of it, the Empress and Reinhardt had made a childhood promise: the winner of their duel would claim the throne. That contest had been running ever since.
So he wasn't that dangerous after all?
More than anything, the Empress was completely unfazed. If someone truly meant to take her life, those sharp eyes of hers would have seen through it in an instant. At the very least, Reinhardt didn't seem to be carrying any killing intent for now.
"Ah — there is someone I should introduce. Count Belmont. Come here."
"Ugh. Aslan Belmont…"
At the Empress's summons I stepped closer. Reinhardt's face twisted with open distaste. Yeah, well, I don't like you either, buddy. I had to force the stream of curses back down my throat before they escaped.
"A friend I have made of late. We get along rather well — and more importantly, he is very good at his work. Hand him a task and he grumbles the whole way, yet always delivers more than expected. How could I not be fond of him?"
"Sister, that doesn't sound like a friend. That sounds like a servant."
"I am simply answering Her Majesty's call with due diligence. A pleasure to meet you, Commander of the Fourth Corps. May I ask one question?"
"Ask freely!"
"Earlier you said you had disposed of the slaves brought back as spoils of war. What exactly did you mean by that?"
I had to ask. It had been nagging at me from the start. From everything I had seen so far, Reinhardt was a long way from being a villain. A little rough around the edges, a little too boisterous — that was all. But that didn't automatically mean his nature wasn't evil. He could still be pure evil in the most literal sense: so pure he didn't even realize he was evil. This question was meant to find out.
"They were spoils the soldiers took throughout the war. There is only one proper way to dispose of such things, is there not?"
"And that method would be…?"
"I paid every last ransom myself. Then I issued each of them citizenship papers and freed them on my own lands. My territory has a desperate shortage of labor — with elves pouring in, that problem should be solved. Hahaha!"
"Why on earth would you shoulder the entire cost? Itemize every expense and report it to me. The treasury will cover it."
"Absolutely not, Sister! Why should the national coffers buy my soldiers' spoils of war? Paying myself is the only proper thing to do!"
"…"
The ending was so unexpectedly wholesome that I was left without words. So that was why the Empress had looked so grim — she simply hated watching her half-brother throw around a fortune. The way the two of them bickered looked exactly like a pair of middle-aged men fighting over the bill after a company dinner.
"Then what about the reports that you requisitioned every head of livestock from the villages along your march…?"
"For every animal taken and every day's wages owed to the villagers, I wrote out promissory notes in my own name. Not a single soul complained despite the hardship I put on them — so I promised twice the market rate. The village chief cried so hard he got snot all over himself."
"…"
This guy… He wasn't pure evil. He was just pure. Period. The absurdly wholesome anecdotes kept coming until I was starting to get dizzy. How was this man supposed to be the main villain of Chapter Two? Had I completely misunderstood him? Then what the hell was that cutscene where he pointed a blade at the Empress while the Imperial Palace burned…? I no longer had any idea what was going on.
"Sister. Have a drink. Traditional elven liquor."
"Traditional liquor…?"
"I have already tasted it myself, Your Majesty. You may set your mind at ease."
"Come now. My men and I have been drinking this stuff for five years straight. As if there'd be poison in it."
Reassured by the maid and Reinhardt, the Empress accepted the cup. In that same instant, a strange sensation washed over me. Something was wrong.
Judging by character alone, Reinhardt is not an evil man.
The fact that the Empress feels no wariness means he is not concealing a wicked nature either.
And yet the Imperial Palace burns, and Reinhardt attacks her.
Every piece of information I had was colliding with every other piece, tearing open a massive contradiction. No matter how I tried to explain it, nothing fit. I had wondered whether the butterfly effect of my arrival had twisted this world's Reinhardt far from the original — but he had been cut off on the battlefield for five full years and had only just arrived. So the odds of his entire personality flipping because of me were basically zero…
Wait. Traditional elven liquor?
A single, bone-chilling thought flashed through my mind. My hand moved before I could even finish deciding — I seized the Empress's wrist just as she was about to tip the cup.
"Ah?!"
"Forgive the insolence, Your Majesty. Have you drunk any of that wine?"
"About half a sip…"
"Commander. Where exactly did this liquor come from?"
"Brought back from the elven lands. My lieutenant Sefirot handled all the purchasing, but— Sister, he laid hands on your person without leave. Are you not afraid to die, Count?"
"Your Majesty. Have you met this person called Sefirot?"
"No. Not yet."
"Damn it…"
"Answer me, Count Belmont! And take your hand off my sister's wrist this instant!"
At last the pieces locked into place with a clean, terrible click. Reinhardt was not the main villain of Chapter Two. The entire cutscene had been a fake.
The real culprit is Sefirot!
I had assumed Reinhardt held command of the attack on the palace and that Sefirot was merely a subordinate following orders. The truth was the opposite. That nightmare future — the burning palace, the Empress forced to her knees — had all been orchestrated by the warlock Sefirot. Reinhardt would know nothing; he would simply be controlled. And because Sefirot herself stayed hidden, it made perfect sense that she had never registered on the Empress's sharp gaze. She had even accounted for how extraordinary those eyes were.
"Your Majesty! You must end this banquet at once!"
"What in the world are you—"
BOOM!
A tremendous shockwave tore through the hall as the wall itself caved in. In a single heartbeat, the banquet turned into utter chaos.