Chapter 65
'......The bombs are coming in droves.'
I sighed inwardly as I watched the figures entering through the banquet hall doors.
Leading the pack were members of the imperial family. Emperor Helios I with his playful expression, Empress Tina Kypress, Second Prince Serenon, and Crown Prince Diego.
'That handsome face of his really shines when he's all dressed up.'
I gazed warmly at Diego, who was clad in a golden uniform with his hair neatly slicked back in a pomade style. We'd become friends recently, and I'd joined him for tea a few times at his invitation to build our bond.
Next came the temple members. The procession of priests gliding in gracefully was led by El, with Julian among them.
'El just looks like a god.'
His already saintly appearance—someone behind him holding up a halo, maybe?—was topped off with the pope's robes in clear sky blue and pristine white. With his sky-blue hair cascading to his waist and a mystical expression, he didn't look like just the pope; he seemed like a deity fresh from some temple.
'A bit annoying, though.'
Thinking back to dancing here while convinced he was a high priest still made my blood boil a little, but since he'd hidden his identity for my sake, I decided to let it slide generously.
I was scrutinizing the priests' procession when—
'Oh. Eye contact.'
I locked eyes with Julian, who had shed his usual mischievous air for a solemn expression. He immediately flashed a roguish grin and winked at me. Thanks to multiple temple visits after sorting things out with El, we'd grown close, so I smirked back at him.
'Leo's at the rear.'
Then came the envoys, filing in with all sorts of glittering treasures. I spotted Leo at the very back. He'd ditched his drab black robe for Atara Kingdom's navy uniform, embroidered with a silver-thread crescent moon emblem.
'Honestly, it's hard to get used to......'
The boy we'd crammed into a tiny shack with, bickering all day, had grown into that. Leo's sensitive yet bored, cold face felt strangely unfamiliar.
The emperor and El took their seats on the two massive thrones at the front of the hall, with the envoys standing before them. First up was presenting the gifts the envoys had brought for the emperor and pope.
"These are gifts from His Majesty the King."
In other words, from Alessandro I—Leo, quietly blending into the envoy group. His gifts were a veritable feast of weapons: master swords forged by Atara's finest blacksmiths, daggers adorned by their top jewelers, gold-plated pistols, and more.
Dozens of boxes—all filled with weapons.
"Didn't the newly ascended king kill all his brothers to claim the throne? Is that why they brought these......?"
"He's just a boy king of seventeen, clueless about etiquette."
Shocked murmurs rippled through the nobles.
I watched the gift presentation with a somewhat stiff expression, sidelong glancing at Leo among the envoys. As a Sword Expert, he couldn't have missed the nobles badmouthing him, yet his face showed not a flicker of emotion.
'It does look odd to outsiders unfamiliar with the circumstances.'
Sending envoys upon a new king's ascension signals, "Hey, our country's leadership changed, but we're still friends, right?" It implies the alliance endures despite the regime shift.
Failing to send envoys means the alliance is history—no intent to continue.
Envoys act as the king's proxies (though the real king had sneaked in here). Relations between nations hinge on their conduct and reception.
'But an important envoy delegation bringing only weapons......'
'That could be a powder keg, depending on interpretation.'
Kings typically send their nation's best to allies. Weapons alone? It could be seen as a declaration of war.
'But Alessandro has his reasons.'
He might be ruthless, but he wasn't stupid. With war looming, antagonizing the empire would doom his kingdom—he knew that.
'This is a message: prepare for war.'
Gems and rarities are useless in battle. Weapons were Alessandro's finest gift to a war-ready empire.
The emperor and pope surely read it the same way. Their untroubled expressions proved it.
A faint smile curved the emperor's lips as he read the king's letter.
"Beware the north wind...... Not bad for a pup."
I caught his quiet mutter with mana and turned to Leo. A similar smile played on his lips as he stood with arms casually crossed.
Next came the empire's gifts to the kingdom. As if coordinated, they too were weapons.
Chaos spread among the low nobles who'd mocked the kingdom, oblivious to the approaching war.
'Only the low nobles are still in the dark.'
I monitored northern movements daily—they were far from normal. To avoid empire-wide panic, it hadn't been officially announced, but border lords, the imperial family, temple, and capital high nobles surely knew.
'But...... they're all taking it too lightly.'
I bit my lip hard.
Northern rebellions under imperial rule had happened countless times in history. And not once had the north defeated the empire.
So everyone assumed it'd be the same. They didn't know the north's deadliest weapon.
'Normally, the north could never beat the empire. It's dragon versus worm.'
The empire's disciplined, formidable army against the north's nomadic wanderers? Odds were infinitesimal.
But if the worm learned to tame a tiger to slay the dragon, the story changes.
'The north figured out how to tame magic beasts.'
Magic beasts. Animals warped by the mana flowing through northern lands—imperceptible to humans but influential on beasts—their bodies grotesquely twisted, abilities astonishingly enhanced.
Northerners, perennial victims who couldn't even settle due to these beasts, had waged endless war against them. In the end, they mastered forbidden black magic to control them.
The Devera horde Kal and I faced in Luju Village? Tamed by northerners.
'Crushed under imperial rule for so long, the northerners prepare for war with the empire using magic beasts.'
I'm imperial, my loved ones live in the empire, so I side with it. But considering what the empire did to them, rebellion was justified.
'Treated the north like a colony, enslaved northerners, demanded absurd tribute.'
Not all ruling classes in history were benevolent. This emperor and pope were hailed as sages who didn't exploit the north, but centuries of resentment couldn't be erased by one generation's justice.
'The northern rebellion is justified...... but I must side with the empire.'
The empire had committed unforgivable sins against northerners. Yet to protect my precious ones, I had to lead the sinner to victory.
Realizing this, the massive boulder crushing me grew heavier. Overwhelmed by suffocating guilt, I squeezed my eyes shut.
Kashmir Crisis wasn't good. No matter how I pretended, my people came first—I was selfish.
"Lady Crisis. Are you alright? Your complexion looks poor."
After the proceedings began, Rainer—who'd paused his weird standoff with Kal to watch beside me—asked cautiously. Grateful for the worry softening his stoic face, I gave a small smile.
"I'm fine. Just lost in thought for a moment."
But the cloud of concern didn't lift from his face. Like a gloomy puppy, he lowered his eyes briefly, hesitated, then asked,
"But your color really isn't good. May I check your temperature?"
"Uh...... if you insist, go ahead."
Even with my subpar stamina and durability for a Sword Master, I wasn't prone to fevers. But refusing seemed like it'd make him dig a tunnel in determination, so I agreed.
Of course, I figured it'd be a normal hand-to-forehead check.
Rainer's large hand approached carefully, gently brushing back the hair veiling my eyebrows. The ticklish touch made me close my eyes slightly.
Gazing intently at me with a somewhat dazed expression, he leaned in close.
Thud. Foreheads touching.
A mildly unfamiliar warmth spread across my forehead.
'Wh-what......'
I startled, eyes flying wide. Rainer's long lashes lowered, his face inches from mine.
Murmurs rippled around us. As the fuzzy warmth seeped in, my chest fluttered—
CRASH!
"Kyaaak!"
The pope's staff slammed into the banquet hall's center with a thunderous boom. Only then did Rainer pull back, turning toward the staff.
I quickly assessed too. Thankfully, it had landed in an empty spot—no injuries. Aside from the dented floor, the sturdy staff looked unscathed.
"My apologies. My hand slipped."
All eyes turned to El, the owner, seated on his throne at the front. His cold, emotionless face spoke in a flat tone.
'......Slipped? From there?'
He was at the hall's front. For the staff to reach the center—considerable distance—it was clearly deliberate.
But if the pope said it slipped, it slipped. No idiot here would question the pope aloud, so a servant hurried to retrieve and return it, closing the incident.
"Unbelievable. What baseless nonsense was that, sir?"
Kal—who'd left moments ago for wine, right before our chat—stormed back, shoving between me and Rainer.
Facing Kal's mad, unblinking eyes, Rainer replied indifferently,
"Lady Crisis didn't look well, so I checked her temperature."
"That's not how you check a temperature! ......But does Shushu really have a fever?"
"This way is far more accurate. No fever, but her color is still poor."
"Accurate my foot! ......Her color is bad, though. We should wrap this banquet up quick."
I quietly slipped away while blankly watching their bizarre exchange—fight or discussion? They synced too well; it was just bickering buddies.