Chapter 150: Waldemar Golt
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 150: Waldemar Golt
“Did you intend to give Baron Wolcher’s territory to that man?” Ruri asked.
Ferda had just returned to the castle after finishing his business at the City Hall.
“I did.”
“And what did he say?”
“He said he would think about it.”
With that, the conversation ended.
Being a free spirit, the man was not easily bound. Ferda did not attempt to persuade him any further.
“Doesn't that mean he rejected you?”
“I don't think so.”
A wandering knight who refused to be tied down—countless nobles must have offered him lands and knighthoods long before Ferda ever did. Every time, he had refused them flatly.
Ferda believed that if one spoke in circles, a man like Alberdo would simply interpret the words however he pleased. If he had intended to refuse Ferda’s offer, he would have said so directly. To say he would "think about it" meant there was room for a choice—a possibility that he might actually set down roots here.
It was a paradoxical situation; the possibility of him accepting the title arose precisely because he did not trust Ferda. But Ferda didn't mind.
‘The kind of person who is truly loyal to me is...’
A man who could stand in his way when he was heading down the wrong path. That was the kind of loyalty Ferda needed.
* * *
Alberdo left the City Hall and looked for a place to spend the night.
Since his armor was incredibly heavy, staying in an inn with second-floor guest rooms was out of the question. As if he were used to it, Alberdo sought out a stable and settled in.
The temporary stables, built in preparation for the Start of Spring Festival, had grown quiet, leaving a spot for Alberdo to camp out. He began inspecting his equipment before the sun went down. Alberdo was the type of man who would skip sleep before he skipped a day of maintenance.
“...Hmm?”
Alberdo let out a low grunt as he tended to his club.
Countless monsters had lunged at him, and many who considered themselves powerful had tried every method imaginable to break this weapon. All of them had failed just before being turned into bloody pulps.
It was only natural. His weapon was crafted from Great Dragon Stone, a legendary material said to be as hard as a dragon’s fang. In terms of durability, it would not break under any ordinary force.
And yet, on that very club, there was a mark he had never seen before.
One thick indentation, and four relatively smaller marks beside it. No matter how he looked at it, it was the shape of a handprint.
“Hmm...”
Looking at the marks, Alberdo recalled the Armored Knight who had blocked his strike.
When two attacks cancel each other out, the side with less power receives the greater shock. When his strike was blocked, Alberdo felt it. He realized that he could not defeat that armor with simple strength alone. He realized that the person inside was a noble soul standing at a peak even higher than his own—he who had slain super-sized monsters single-handedly.
“Hmm.”
Alberdo did not dwell on it further. In a world of killing and being killed, the one who survives is the winner, and the one who dies is the loser. He shook off his idle thoughts and finished maintaining his weapon.
* * *
On a bright morning, the Empire’s Crown Prince, Alexander Arken, was waiting for someone at the imperial gates.
“Are you sure they’re coming today?”
“Yes, Your Highness. They will undoubtedly arrive within the day, so if you could wait just a little longer...”
The adjutant was trembling. It was only natural, considering another adjutant had been killed just yesterday. The reason? The guest had failed to arrive.
It was a simple vent of frustration, but no one could point it out or protest. That was the nature of the Crown Prince’s position. The adjutant felt a lump in his throat at the thought that he, too, could die such a meaningless death.
Fortunately, luck was on his side. A magnificent carriage and an army emerged from the forest and onto the plains.
“They are here!”
The Crown Prince, who had been muttering arrogantly, jumped to his feet.
The carriage was of a size that, according to Imperial law, was permitted to no one but the Emperor. Seeing it, even the degenerate Alexander broke into a cold sweat. This was a man who could make even the haughty Crown Prince—who always looked down on others—tremble with fear.
The flag of the man’s family drew closer until it reached Alexander. An old man with age spots on his skin stepped out. He was Grand Duke Waldemar Golt.
“Thank you for visiting us like this, Grand Duke Golt.”
Unlike Alexander, who greeted him with a forced, amiable smile, Waldemar’s face remained devoid of emotion. His eyes looked as if he were staring at a pathetic brat.
“I never thought I’d live to hear the word ‘thank you’ come out of that mouth.”
“You are the great pillar of this Arken Empire; of course I must show you respect.”
“For someone who says that, I heard you were singing a different tune yesterday—about how it turned your stomach to have to bow your head to that ‘old dog.’”
“Oh, my! H-how could that be?”
He had, in fact, said exactly that. It was difficult to even deduce who had leaked it, but since he had been shouting it so loudly, it wouldn't have been strange for anyone to have heard.
“Well, do you think I would even blink at being insulted by the likes of you?”
Waldemar was the picture of composure. Usually, Alexander would fly into a rage at anyone who looked down on him, but with this man, fear came first.
Grand Duke Waldemar Golt. His other title was Chief Commissioner of the Arken Crisis Response Headquarters. From this moment on, this man would hold Alexander’s life in his hands.
Alexander bowed his head politely and pleaded.
“At this upcoming public hearing... I ask for your fair and rational judgment.”
“Fair and rational judgment, you say...”
Instead of answering, the Grand Duke straightened his back and began to move. Alexander followed behind him like a servant.
“The carriage?”
“I have prepared it at the entrance. It will depart as soon as you board.”
“I see. You may go now.”
Watching his retreating back, Alexander poured out curses internally.
‘That old man, still obsessed with lust even at his age...’
Alexander knew that Waldemar had been eyeing his sister, Stella, for a long time. From the moment she began to take after their mother—a beauty capable of toppling kingdoms—Waldemar had sent countless requests and gifts to the Emperor, asking to marry her.
Eventually, when her marriage to someone else was decided, he had stubbornly persisted, trying to frame her fiancé for treason. And as soon as Stella died, he immediately shifted his target to Olivia.
Alexander was well aware of the corruption and atrocities Waldemar had committed to possess the Princess. Even so, he did not dare touch him.
“Brat.”
That was how Waldemar addressed Alexander. Fearing his inner thoughts had been read, Alexander flinched.
“Yes, what is it?”
“We shall make our entry together this time.”
Alexander’s eyes widened. “W-with me?”
“Is there a problem?”
“No. Not at all.”
Knowing that Waldemar had detested him since he was a child, this was the first time the two of them would stand together in public. Only now, as he approached middle age, was Alexander finally standing beside Waldemar.
However, the motive behind this didn't stay hidden for long. It became clear the moment they entered the city to the sound of thunderous cheering.
“Grand Duke Golt!!”
“O Alte! Protect the Grand Duke!”
The roaring sounds were all praises. Some offered prayers to God, while others glorified him in their own ways. Waldemar raised a hand with a smile. Wherever his gaze landed, breathless cheers erupted.
“Brat. Smile.”
“Pardon?”
“Don't make me say it twice.”
“Ah, yes!”
Realizing he was being overwhelmed by the atmosphere, Alexander followed suit, smiling and waving his hand. He noticed that the reaction was lukewarm wherever he directed his gaze. Even in a situation that made him want to scowl, he kept smiling persistently.
“Do you see it clearly now?” Waldemar asked abruptly.
Alexander understood exactly what he meant. Grand Duke Waldemar, whom everyone cheered for. Alexander, who made everyone feel uneasy. He was being forced to realize his own standing with painful clarity.
“If I were to pull out a dagger right now and stab you, what kind of reaction do you think it would provoke?”
“...”
“Of course, everyone would be horrified. They’d say I stabbed the Emperor’s child. But how long do you think that would last?”
It wouldn't last long. The nobles who had tried to expose this man—and those who actually did—had all failed and vanished without a trace. It had to be that way. No matter if he was a lecherous old man who lusted after his own nieces, to the people, he was a war hero who had fought for the Empire’s prosperity. He was the final pillar of this Empire, an absolute power that could not be toppled. That was Waldemar Golt.
Only then did the Crown Prince realize what he truly needed to say.
“I beg of you.” Alexander smiled and waved his hand to the crowd. “I, Alexander Arken... am in desperate need of the great Grand Duke’s mercy...”
Though his head was held high, his heart was already groveling on the floor. Only then did Waldemar ask, looking satisfied.
“What is it you want?”
* * *
The residence of the Black Bandana was once a hideout for illegal moonshiners. True to its nature, the exterior looked like a simple hunter’s shack or a place occupied by a vicious beast.
However, contrary to its appearance, the deeper one went inside, the more the scale became vast and complex, rivaling that of a castle. Because of these characteristics, the Black Bandana’s residence was commonly referred to as the "Ant Tunnel."
Core executives from all over the continent were currently gathered there. As soon as the blockade on the Far East was lifted, the Black Bandana had summoned all its leaders.
Garnet Swallow, the head of the organization, spoke.
“The Empire is in a state of emergency.”
“It’s only natural. A monster of that caliber appeared inside the Empire...”
“I think the fact that an entire legion was annihilated is a bigger deal than the monster itself.”
An unprecedented intrusion followed by a scale of damage that could not be ignored. The faults and responsibilities of this incident had to be clearly identified. That meant information was everything. It was a matter significant enough to draw the attention of the Black Bandana, a secret intelligence organization.
“Two weeks from now, the Post Mortem hosted by the Crisis Response Headquarters will begin.”
A meeting to examine the root, the cause, and everything that transpired until the end. Through it, they would determine who was responsible for this disaster and proceed with disciplinary actions.
“Won't it just be the same old story? They’ll point the finger at the Crown Prince.”
The person with ultimate responsibility for the legion’s annihilation was Alexander Arken. Even if he were singled out as the suspect of this meeting, Alexander wouldn't be able to throw a tantrum. The Chief Commissioners were individuals with power so immense that even a Crown Prince wouldn't dare treat them lightly.
“It’s obvious how it’ll go. The Crown Prince will say a few words, and then they’ll wrap it up by sacrificing some low-level scapegoat.”
Even so, they were all in it together in the end. It was a predictable story: they would use the Crown Prince’s weakness to their advantage and then move on.
“If it were that simple, I wouldn't have summoned you all like this,” Garnet said. “The problem is that this agenda will not go in that direction. The blame being shifted downward will not target a staff officer, but somewhere else entirely.”
“Where do you think it's going, Boss?”
She spoke clearly. “It will be the Far East.”
The Far East. It was a land that could be collectively referred to as the Archduchy of Valdrova.
“Currently, public opinion is forming among the Imperial citizens that the Far East might be the main culprit behind this incident.”
“That’s strange. I thought there wasn't a word said for a week after the 1st Legion was annihilated.”
“It was spread intentionally.”
The Empire’s intelligence agency had been moving even before the subjugation was finished. They spread false information through taverns, cathedrals, and laundry docks. In information warfare, securing the first impression is paramount.
— The reason the Imperial army died like that is because the Far East didn't respond, right?
— Wicked things. If it weren't for the Empire’s protection, they would have died in a ditch long ago. They don't even know how to be grateful.
Those who knew nothing had no choice but to believe those words, and that belief turned uncontrollably against the Archduchy.
“Since public opinion is turning against them like this, even the Regent won't be able to do much.”
“It seems they covet the Far East’s assets quite a bit.”
Just two years ago, the Far East was practically non-existent. Some Far Eastern lords were clamoring to be sent to other regions. But those voices had become surprisingly quiet.
Remarkably, the turning point was the appearance of Ferda Rosnova. From then on, the development of the territory had increased exponentially. He had secured the Pascal Trading Company, the Empire’s top merchant house, and the Dandolo Merchant House, which held the number two position. By winning them over, he had captured half of the flow of the Empire’s grassroots economy.
Since it wasn't just economic power but was based on the unique technological prowess of Magitech, the potential of the territory was immeasurable. All of this was enough to boost the morale of the lords. Through this recent siege, he had used them as the hammer and anvil, tempering their passion even more firmly.
Since the Far East was emerging as a single power, it was bound to be an eyesore in the eyes of the Empire.
“It looks difficult for the Regent to solve all of this on his own. He’ll surely want us, right?”
“Kiya, it’s been a while since we’ve touched some real money.”
The executives were snickering, discussing how much they would overcharge him. Instead of joining the lighthearted atmosphere, Garnet threw cold water on it.
“We will not sell the information.”
“What? If we don't sell the information for money, what are you going to do?”
“Are you just going to ignore the Far East and let it go to ruin, Boss?”
Garnet kept a solemn expression and remained silent. Then, one by one, the snickering executives began to catch on to the mood.
“Could it be... are you proposing ‘Egg Cracking’?”
The atmosphere turned to one of disbelief. Garnet answered.
“Yes.”
“Are you serious?”
“If you declare that stage, won't our position become dangerous?”
The mood was one of dissuasion. It was a backlash Garnet had expected. That was why she had repeated it to herself many times before bringing it up.
Was this the right thing to do? Once a mistake was made, there would be no turning back. It wasn't just her own ruin; it was the ruin of everyone, including the ancestors who had maintained this secret organization.
“I have agonized over this many times, and this is the conclusion I’ve reached.”
And yet, the same answer had appeared in her mind over and over again.
“To inherit my father’s will, and furthermore, the will of our ancestors, we begin ‘Egg Cracking’ as of today.”
The die was cast.