Chapter 46: Omen (1)
Chapter 46: Omen (1)
"......Hey, how long do you think it'll take to recover from an injury like that?"
"Seeing as the arrow shaft was cut off close to the skin, I expect it'll take a bit longer."
"So how long?"
"It looked like it was embedded fairly deep. At least a month to heal, I'd say. If we factor in the aftereffects......."
"Is that so......."
He stroked his stubbled chin.
Only two years had passed since the end of the Eight-Year War. From the Empire's perspective, another war would be burdensome.
And on top of that, Deon Hart had been injured. Given how extensively they'd deployed him all over the place during the war, the likelihood of them waging war without him was low.
So, couldn't they use this to their advantage?
"Doesn't that look like a show of force to you, no matter how you look at it?"
"Excuse me?"
"I said, doesn't it look like a show of force aimed at our kingdom?"
"No matter how I look at it, it seems less like a show of force and more like a unilateral attack....... Urk!"
Fortunately, there was one quick-witted fellow among them.
The one who swiftly stomped on his comrade's foot to shut him up eagerly agreed.
"Yes! It absolutely looks like a show of force!"
"Right? Contact the royal palace. No, I'll contact them personally."
He had to explain the whole story and make his report. If he played this right, they might be able to extract a hefty compensation from the Empire itself.
From the looks of it, they'd come to spy under the pretext of monster subjugation. It was only fair they pay a price like this.
A sly smile crept across the commander's lips.
* * *
Deon Hart's words stabbed relentlessly at the truth they had been trying hard to ignore.
He didn't seem to expect an answer, and the squad members didn't have the leisure to give one either, so a cold silence had settled over this small battlefield before they knew it.
It wasn't that they were scared. Well, no, being scared was part of it, but there was a bigger reason.
'Was he always this articulate?'
'He's always been articulate. Though I don't think he was ever this sharp.'
'Maybe the butler taught him.'
'Butler, what on earth did you do.'
The squad members clutched their aching guts.
The words didn't contain a single curse, yet they stung.
While the squad members were stunned by the attack that gouged at their sore spots, a different kind of silence lingered among the enemies.
'The first one to move, dies.'
Though this moment—with their mid-combat opponents frozen solid—was an opportunity, the instincts honed through countless jobs screamed a warning of death.
And that instinct turned to certainty when their eyes met Deon Hart's.
Eyes red as blood, a gaze that curved up ever so slightly, and even the corners of his mouth that twitched upward as if waiting for someone to make a move.
'Fuck.'
They'd picked the wrong target.
In truth, their instincts' warning cries had started the moment they first took the job. It was just that the pay was so massive they'd been completely blinded by it.
They weren't even told to kill him for sure—just to injure him. Who would refuse that?
Even if they hadn't refused the job, this situation could have been avoided if they'd backed off without overdoing it when he was first hit by the arrow.
'Damn it, got greedy for nothing.'
On top of his greed for money, he'd judged it to be doable after confirming the extent of Deon's injuries, and so he'd pressed the attack.
The rumors seemed exaggerated, going by his attitude and behavior anyway.
But then for him to suddenly flip like this.
There was only one way to overturn this situation without any sacrifice.
Everyone knew that fact without needing to say it aloud.
The problem was trust.
'On three, we attack simultaneously.'
'One...... two, three!'
'.......'
'.......'
'Dirty bastards.'
'Look who's talking.'
This was already the third time they'd pulled this nonsense.
Maddeningly, no one moved. No one even flinched.
As everyone was eyeing each other, a voice broke the tense silence.
"I already caught one to get information from— so stop standing on ceremony and kill them."
"......!"
"Things that can't even ride a horse properly, what kind of farce are you lot putting on?"
The squad members' eyes changed.
If they had been simply 'madmen' reveling in blood up until a moment ago, now their eyes looked at the enemy as if they weren't even human.
They grinned right at them.
The sight was so unnerving that the moment he pulled his horse back, the bastards kicked off their saddles and threw themselves forward without a moment's hesitation.
It was a reckless action, as if the risk of being unhorsed didn't even cross their minds.
"Insane!"
Horror sublimated into profanity and burst out.
Thud! Crash!
Dull impacts and low groans echoed from all around.
In a space overflowing with madness and bloodshed incomparable to just moments before, a proper dirty brawl began.
It was chaos.
The man who'd been the first to charge in without fear, only to get skewered on the ground, forgot his pain and stared dumbly at the scene before him.
Curses and screams ran rampant, and every filthy trick in the book was on display.
And above all, it was brutal.
He could understand throwing dirt in someone's eyes. He could even understand biting.
But did they really have to go out of their way to tear apart someone who was clearly already dead? That, he couldn't understand at all.
His body trembled involuntarily.
'Murder demons.'
Even though they had a formal name, the knight order before his eyes was still said to bear the name 'Murderer Knight Order.'
He'd always wondered why they would deliberately go by such a terrible name when the Emperor had given them a title, but now he thought he understood the reason.
Because the sight of them laughing, eyes bloodshot red as they tore enemies apart, looked like nothing other than slaughter-maddened demons, no matter who you asked.
They were the ones who'd led the vanguard during the Eight-Year War, they said. It was only natural they'd win.
Could anyone keep their sanity facing those monsters head-on? Whoever their opponents had been, they must have surely trembled in fear.
And the words those monsters were muttering only added weight to the terror.
[All is for survival.]
It was a phrase utterly unsuited to be spoken by the kinds of people who were smiling wide as they hacked enemies to pieces.
It was a chillingly brilliant rationalization.
They'd probably ease their guilt with that. Their hesitation in action would diminish.
'Devil spawn.'
He watched the situation with disgusted eyes, then turned his gaze.
If the underlings were like that, what must their superior be like, the one who had such underlings beneath him?
'As expected.'
He was even crazier.
Deon Hart. The man who, absurdly, held the title of 'Hero of the Empire.'
'A hero,' really. The absurdity left him speechless. What in the world was the Emperor thinking, designating a man like that as a 'hero'?
He moved freely through the space, the very sight of which was suffocating, carving through the chaos. He was beaming brightly, as if he was genuinely thrilled to the point of madness.
Separate from his laughter, anyone his hands touched was left a bloodied mess without exception.
The corpses stretched out like a trail following his footsteps were so mangled, every one of them, that you couldn't tell who was who.
With him joining in, the situation was swiftly resolved.
"......."
"......."
In the silence that returned in an instant, rough breaths that had yet to fully subdue their excitement could be heard from all over this utterly surreal space.
Unable to bear facing the knight order members' eyes, still bloodshot red as if the drug's effects lingered, the man fixed his gaze on Deon Hart.
He was exhaling slowly.
"Seems the situation's more or less settled."
As if sensing the stare, the red eyes turned toward him.
The moment their eyes met, he grinned, strode right over, and stomped down hard on the dagger lodged in his shoulder.
The dagger was driven in deeper, and a low groan reflexively burst out from the sudden onslaught of pain.
"Blinded by money, or just stupid. Or maybe both apply......."
"......."
"No matter how many numbers you brought, honestly—attacking head-on when he's with a knight order? What kind of ridiculous nonsense is that?"
The foot pressing on the dagger slowly rocked. The dagger rocked up and down with it, widening the wound.
"Hurts, doesn't it?"
"......."
"I'm not too fond of torture either. So I'd really prefer it if you just come clean about who sent you─"
──I guess that'll be difficult.
Lady Rien, go and settle the squad members.
The demon drenched red from head to toe indirectly indicated they wished to be left alone with him.
* * *
"A protest has been lodged by the Kingdom of Ireon."
The Emperor, who had been reading through documents with languid eyes, lifted his gaze.
His golden eyes, like those of a predator, held a question about what he had just heard.
A protest? Who dared to protest against the 'Empire'?
"It seems Honorary Count Deon Hart was subjugating monsters near that area. In the process, he was attacked and had no choice but to engage in an unavoidable battle......."
"Wait, did you say he was attacked?"
"Yes, that is correct."
"Is Count Hart unharmed?"
"He was struck in the left shoulder by an arrow, and will have difficulty properly using that arm for a month."
"A month......."
He set down the document he was holding onto the desk, then propped his elbow up as if resting his chin and stroked the corner of his mouth.
A wrinkle formed between his smooth brows.
"Continue."
"Yes. The Kingdom of Ireon is protesting, claiming that battle was a show of force. It seems they desire compensation."
"War isn't something that can be waged lightly, and with Count Hart being injured, they must have judged we would avoid war. Since commanders of his caliber are rare."
How pathetically shallow.
If you lack power, you ought to at least have some sense. The Kingdom of Ireon seemed to lack not only sense, but even the instinct for survival.
Did they think the 'Empire' was an empire for nothing?
The Emperor had won the title of 'Empire' through force. It was an empire precisely because it possessed that much force.
The absence of an irreplaceable vanguard commander? Of course, it was regrettable.
But that didn't mean they would lose the war. Deon Hart was merely one of many cards that increased their odds of victory; his absence did not mean their military strength would suddenly plummet.
"I'd heard their leadership was a mess, and now I see why. From our side's perspective, we could easily blame them for the attack on Honorary Count Deon Hart and reverse the pressure."
The truth didn't matter. What mattered was a plausible justification and national power.
The Empire, still in its prime, and the Kingdom of Ireon, teetering on the edge. It was obvious without even looking whose side the other kingdoms would take.
"Then shall we respond according to the plan Your Majesty mentioned......."
"No."
Beneath his hand, the hidden corners of his lips curled upward.
Emperor Eduardo smiled savagely, baring his teeth as he spoke.
"It seems I have been far too well-behaved lately."
"......."
"Nemeseus."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Make preparations for war."
"Your Majesty!"
The reply came not from Nemeseus, but from the chancellor.
The chancellor, who had cried out the Emperor's name as if screaming, hurriedly tried to dissuade him with a pale, horrified face.
"It has been barely two years since the war ended."
"Two years is plenty of rest."
"War costs enormous sums of money."
"Is there a need to worry about money when we have all of this?"
Tap. The Emperor's hand pressed down on the map.
Indeed, money and resources were things you acquired as you conquered.
It was how it was done during the Eight-Year War, so there was no reason it couldn't be done again this time.
The chancellor, unable to find words to continue, gazed at the Emperor in consternation.
A normal kingdom would have negotiated, or if that failed, at least punished the one who caused the diplomatic friction as a show of force and offered monetary compensation to the other kingdom. After all, war was a means that dealt a heavy blow to both sides.
What's more, the Empire currently had plenty of countermeasures that didn't require the use of force.
The Emperor wasn't even considering such options in the slightest.
"So Count Hart, who caused this situation, will face no censure at all......?"
Of course not. If only I had the authority, I'd like to censure him myself.
Hadn't he just reignited the Emperor's war instincts that they'd only barely managed to suppress?
"What did he do wrong? I have no intention of censuring him, neither officially nor unofficially. All he did was diligently look after his own territory. From what I hear, he set out for subjugation leading only a single knight order—wasn't that precisely to avoid provoking the other kingdom? He did his part."
"But still......."
"Chancellor."
The Emperor smiled like the edge of a blade.
"I am a tyrant."
"......."
"Truth be told, I was already thinking of resuming the continental conquest soon. This is actually for the best."
Continental conquest had been the set goal from the very moment he ascended to the throne.
Regardless, he had killed his own siblings to rise to the position of sovereign. Whatever the reason, whatever the truth, he had no intention of being irresponsible about it.
And so, the goal he had conceived.
At that sharp smile, which looked like it could cut even himself, the chancellor, who had been about to say something more, shut his mouth and bowed his head.
The Emperor was too obsessed with responsibility, and that responsibility had become a shackle, and those shackles were about to invite calamity.
'If you're going to call yourself a tyrant, then you ought to cast aside responsibility like that, Your Majesty.'
A sense of responsibility wasn't a bad thing. But shouldn't one keep it in moderation?
His priorities had been wrong from the start. He placed the responsibility toward his dead siblings above his responsibility toward the people of the Empire.
The chancellor knew well that guilt was the cause. And that this was precisely why he styled himself a tyrant. But that didn't make it any less displeasing.
'If a calamity is to occur, may that calamity spare the Empire.'
Daring even to hope that if it must strike, may it strike only the Emperor himself, Chancellor Ardal slowly opened his mouth.
"......I shall go and covertly draft a budget proposal."