Chapter 129: Walking a Tightrope (3)
Chapter 129: Walking a Tightrope (3)
I knew full well how terrifying the unconscious could be. Just today, hadn't I let words slip out unfiltered in front of the Fairy King and pricked at his mood? Fortunately, it passed without incident, but the Emperor would not be so forgiving.
So I'd been shrinking my heart and liver with tension pulled taut again, regulating myself to make sure not even an inadvertent word slipped out — and then the situation suddenly flipped like this. The shock was something else.
Ah, though of course, that didn't mean I had any intention of changing my plans to head to the Empire.
'For now... I did cause a huge mess here too.......'
I'd brought in the medicine the court physician gave me and tossed it just anywhere, strengthening the demonic beasts.......
I'd suddenly become an illegal drug smuggler, so the answer was to bolt as quickly as possible. The Demon King himself had said he'd let it slide, but given the briefly murderous aura he'd shown just moments ago when stopping the fight between Idelia and Lirinel, vacating the premises immediately and coming back after a bit of time would certainly help extend my lifespan.
'To the Empire.'
As fast as possible.
While I was steeling my resolve like that once more, the Demon King's voice continued.
"Still, Idelia isn't entirely wrong. Preparing is far better than not preparing. Once the war begins, the 7th and 9th Legions alone won't be enough, so perhaps I should pull out any deployable forces in advance... let's see......."
* * *
Deon Hart had returned.
The Emperor did not ask Deon Hart, who had returned faster than expected, whether he had "decided."
He merely looked into his eyes and laced their back-and-forth conversation with words meant to probe the other. And the moment he grasped that Deon's role had not yet changed, he shifted his gaze to the other information Deon had brought with him.
'......Right, a spy during wartime is also quite useful.'
—he deliberately dismissed it like that.
The problem was that this spy was a figure aligned with neither his side nor the enemy's, someone who could change at any moment....... But for now, it was fine. He could wait.
The Demon King was probably waiting for his patience to wear thin and for him to put strong pressure on Deon Hart.
'Waiting for Deon Hart to flee to the Demon Realm.'
To put it in southern idiom, it could be likened to a fool standing under a persimmon tree with his mouth hanging open.
How laughable. The Emperor's patience was not so short that the Demon King could afford to mock it.
"So... is that everything."
"That is all in answer to Your Majesty's inquiry."
The tasks assigned to each Legion Commander were known thanks to Deon Hart having pried away bits and pieces.
And so the Emperor was not particularly satisfied with the information he had pried away this time.
"......Ha. So this is how poorly they've prepared while waging war against this Empire."
Not the quality of the information, but the content of the information itself.
The 6th and 12th Legions, which handled demonic beasts, were continuing their duties as-is. The 5th Legion, which patrolled the entirety of the Demon Realm, was on standby at the Demon Castle. Even the 10th and 8th Legions, which guarded the Demon Realm's major cities, had no changes to their duties....... Which meant the legions being used for the war amounted to the existing 1st, 3rd, 7th, and 9th Legions, plus the 5th Legion as a contingency — and that was it.
The 2nd and 4th Legions were being used in the war as well, but they moved only in relation to intelligence and rarely engaged directly in battle, so they were excluded. The 11th Legion's history of seeing battle could be counted on one hand, so if that was excluded too.......
'There are twelve legions in total... no, thirteen, yet only five.......'
Was this not simply them treating the Empire lightly?
At a time when even calling in every single legion except the bare minimum and placing them on standby wouldn't be enough, what was the point of this nonsense?
The Emperor pressed the back of his gloved left hand down, then released it, pinching the bridge of his nose with irritation.
"There are limits even to treating something lightly."
"......."
"......In any case, you have done well. You, too, will be getting busy from here on, so you'd best return and rest."
At those casually spoken yet impossible-to-ignore words, Deon, who'd been listening quietly, flinched, his shoulders trembling, then slowly raised his head. His red eyes — unfathomable orbs reminiscent of someone's green gaze — rudely stared straight into the golden eyes.
"......So I, too... am to participate in the war."
"Indeed."
Even without him deliberately applying pressure, shuttling between the two camps waging war would impose considerable psychological strain. Sooner or later, a day would come when Deon climbed down from that wretched tightrope.
In the first place, this tightrope-walking had proceeded under the tolerance of two sovereigns. If he really put his mind to it, he could grab Deon by the scruff and drag him down right this instant, but the Emperor did not do so.
Because a talent whose true loyalty had not been won was nothing more than a bomb certain to go off someday.
"......."
"......?"
He had issued a clear answer, but no reply came back. The Emperor slowly rolled his eyes, silently scrutinizing the viciously expressionless face that contained not a trace of emotion, then murmured faintly, as though realizing something.
"Now that I think of it... this is to be your first participation in a war since the Eight-Year War, is it not."
In the time since, Deon had only been through a few skirmishes, never a full-scale war. Even in the war of conquest not long ago, Deon Hart had been in the Demon Realm.
"Yes... there was something I've wanted to say to you for quite some time."
It was such an obvious thing that he'd nearly passed over it this time as well, but Deon's attitude had brought it to mind. Perhaps it was fortunate that he'd remembered it, even if only now.
Words he absolutely had to say to Deon Hart before sending him out to war.
The Emperor took one large stride forward, narrowing the distance between them. Deon stared at him with startled eyes as the other boldly invaded his space, but the Emperor paid no mind, reaching out and lightly placing his hands on both of Deon's shoulders.
"Once battle actually begins, you perform better than anyone, so I have no concerns regarding physical matters. But in other respects, I felt a preemptive dose of medicine was needed."
So now was as good a time as any to say it in advance.
The unhurried voice fell, heavy with gravity.
"When someone swings a sword and kills a person, you resent the one who swung it — not the sword."
It was truly laughable. The very man who had used that point to keep up his precarious tightrope act until now hadn't even considered this side of things.
Perhaps his way of thinking had set too rigidly when he was young. Imprints carved into one's thinking in childhood linger in the unconscious and continue to exert influence even into adulthood, so it wasn't entirely incomprehensible.
But if that were truly the case.
"You are my sword. Are you not?"
"......I am."
Then as the sword's rightful master, he would have to personally shatter it.
He couldn't know how much of an effect these words would have, but he did know that saying them was still better than remaining silent.
"Does a sword feel guilt?"
The Emperor, hoping this sword called Deon Hart would not break, willingly opened his mouth.
Truly foolish. He told himself he was but a sword and not to resent himself for falling into another's hands — and yet, when it came to killing people as a sword, he felt guilt all the same.
The red pupils widened as if the words had been utterly unexpected. The Emperor watched without missing a beat, speaking in a calm, measured tone.
"All who participate in war are the swords of their commanders. All the wicked karma they amass by killing people belongs to the one who laid the board for them to be wielded upon, and to the commander who wielded them. And the commander, too, has a superior who wielded them, so in the end, if you follow this triangular structure of relationships all the way up, at its apex stands the 'sovereign.'"
"......."
"Do you understand? It means that in waging war, generals such as you bear no sin. You killed someone? I commanded you to kill, so what can be done? Guilt? That is something I ought to shoulder in its entirety, so by what right does the sword seek to bear guilt? It is overstepping your authority, it is arrogance, and it is disrespect toward your sovereign."
All the sins they committed on the battlefield were the Emperor's share. So the corresponding price must also be the Emperor's share.
Yet how dare a mere sword try to snatch away what belongs to me?
"I declare it plainly. All the blood and resentment that existed in the Eight-Year War, that existed in the war not long ago, and that will arise in the coming war with the Demon Realm — all of it is mine. So do not remember the faces of the dead. Do not lend your ear to the stories of the fallen."
Whether they be enemy or ally.
"For the memories are my share."
"......."
Gazing into the red eyes watching him silently, the Emperor, uncharacteristically, slowly drew up the corners of his lips.
"You need only move according to the orders from above."
* * *
I returned to the Empire. Before setting off, I'd summoned Hien and Ed over that business with the strange plant in my bag last time and thrown out a question, and things turned into a whole ordeal with talk of killing this and that......!
'Ed asked, grabbing Hien by the collar, whether he should kill him.......'
Anyway, it was resolved without incident.......
[Did the plant cause some sort of problem?]
[Well... I suppose you could say that.......]
[I apologize. I shall pay for the sin by striking off Hien's head.]
[No... why Hien's head.......]
[Ah, I shall offer my own head as well.]
[There's no need for that...!]
Without incident.......
[Was the plant not of help to you...?]
[In the end, it proved useful, but.......]
[Then next time, again...!]
[No, that's a bit.......]
Without incident... resolved...?
Well, I did secure a promise that it wouldn't happen again by saying that if I were caught walking around the human realm carrying a monstrosity of a plant, I'd be the one in trouble. So I suppose I can consider it resolved without incident.
In any case, traumatized by the last monster-plant incident, this time I didn't even bring disguise luggage and returned safely to the estate empty-handed. Leaving aside the refreshing bout of blood-vomiting I did the moment I arrived.
'A war against the Demon Realm, of all places.'
The heavens must really want to drive my life into the absolute gutter.
Damned if I know, but now I had to shuttle back and forth not just all over the battlefield, but between two fiercely opposed camps as well. Having to constantly read the moods of my superiors on both sides was a bonus.
So I'd steeled myself, expecting to be dragged around here and there clinging to stomach medicine in place of snacks and suffering plenty — but was this what I should call meeting expectations, or defying them?
I became very busy. Very busy, in a different sense.
"Marquis, your hand has stopped."
"Ah."
I moved my paused pen and scrawled a signature across the document.
Troop requisition from the Marquisate... naturally approved....... Deployment of the Murder Demons... no, the Lofty Knight Order... oh, they're going fairly far out. Gladly approved....... Because ordinary commanders would find them difficult to control, please send someone to lead them as well... Sending Rien should do it. Somehow it seems like they're hoping for me, but I'll chalk it up to my imagination and... no, wait!
I stopped the pen and raised my head. My eyes met Dan's, who looked like he'd been about to point it out again.
"......Dan, aren't we in the middle of a war?"
"That is correct, my lord."
"Then why am I not busy?"
"Aren't you busy right now?"
"No... I didn't mean busy in this way......."
Hadn't the number of times I was sent to the battlefield been fewer than expected? I'd been called out a fair bit only in the beginning; at this very moment, I was leisurely handling paperwork and all....... Of course, my location was a military tent, not the Marquisate.
"Marquis, the documents requiring your attention are piling up like a mountain."
"......Why are you even here?"
"As an escort, and also at the butler's request, I'm here to monitor... no, supervise... no......."
You little shit?
"Ahem, I came to be of help."
"Too late, you little shit. Get lost."
"Ah, regarding what you said a moment ago about 'you not being busy.'"
You're completely transparent when you change the subject. Who'd you learn that from?
When it comes to subject-changing, I'd been put through the wringer by Rememver and cultivated my own resistance. I still can't best Rememver, but it meant I wasn't about to fall for this guy, who was lower in status than me and less verbally agile than Rememver.
"His Majesty does seem to be reluctant to send you to the front, Marquis. There are even rumors that he's busier than usual, for some reason......."
"Right, so I'm asking why he's reluctant to send me to the front. It's not bad, but it's unsettling. More importantly, stop changing the subject and get lost, quickly......."
"Come to think of it, I've been hearing rumors lately that the fighting styles of the Demon Realm's 0th Legion Commander and the Empire's third Hero, Deon Hart, resemble each other."
"Wha......what?"
Ah, I ended up falling for it after all.
Learned from the best, didn't you, Rememver. Damn it all.