Chapter 67: Declaration of War (2)
Chapter 67: Declaration of War (2)
It was a slow touch, as if tending to a wound.
But for some reason, it felt as though those fingers could seize my throat at any moment, so I had no choice but to remain frozen in place.
And besides, this mark.......
'It's not something like a curse.'
Of course, the Demon King was the one who placed it. But it wasn't used for weakening the body or anything curse-like, the way the Empire's people assumed.
As I've said over and over, my body wasn't weakened by any outside influence. It was just naturally weak to begin with.
In other words, this mark was a 'location-tracking' spell.
Think about it. What could the Demon King possibly trust to send me off to the human world so easily?
No matter how well they treated me in the demon world, I was ultimately a human whose hometown was the 'human world.' I might claim to stay in the demon realm without any particular complaints, but wouldn't I be likely to waver if I saw the human world?
That was why the Demon King always cast a location-tracking spell on me whenever I went to the human world.
'The first time I accepted the Demon King's offer and went to the Empire was the same.'
When I had said I would struggle to retrieve the Hero's body and return to the Empire, the Demon King had placed a location-tracking spell on me.
Spoken words said it was for my safety, to prepare for any unforeseen accident, but... in the end, it meant that if I didn't return, he would come find me.
Completely leashed, I couldn't even bring myself to say anything. I just staggered back to the Empire, dragging the Hero's corpse, and arrived before the Emperor and other imperial officials without even realizing how disheveled my clothes had become from lugging the Hero's body around.
And then, from the excessive strain on my stamina, I ended up coughing up blood the moment I set the Hero down.
At the time, I was so focused on collecting myself that I didn't even notice their gazes were bypassing my face and stopping somewhere lower.
An unfamiliar black mark, the coughing of blood. The cold corpse of the Hero, and his comrade who had retrieved it.
In a way, it was only natural their thoughts had turned to 'the Demon King's curse.'
'Even if I said it wasn't that, they wouldn't listen, and I couldn't openly admit I'd become a Demon King's army commander, so I kept my mouth shut.......'
Now all I could do was hope it wouldn't be found out.
There was a good reason I had even deceived the Emperor. I needed an excuse to return to the demon world.
If I, perfectly intact in limb, said I needed to go back to the demon world, what in the world would people think? Naturally, the first thought would be, 'This bastard's openly going to betray us, isn't he?'
And so I tacitly acknowledged the curse and subtly inserted the premise that I had to stay by the Demon King's side to break it.
Therefore, it was far too late to explain. The moment the truth came out, the Emperor, realizing he'd been played, would personally lop my head off. I guarantee it.
And so my answer was already decided.
"......I will make an effort."
To the opponent who hoped we would next meet with the curse lifted, the person who was never cursed in the first place replied.
* * *
"Hart Territory...... That's unexpected."
It was also useless land to me. Though if I weighed the pros and cons, it was closer to a gain than a loss.......
Duke Stave Illustar, as always, briefly took in Cruel, who gave no particular answer, with his eyes.
"......Now that I think of it, not long ago, when I met Honorary Count Hart in the palace corridor, didn't he say he came to return his territory?"
Cruel Hart had been there too at that time.
No. He had been there first, and the Duke himself had arrived later. And he had conversed with Deon Hart.
[I heard you also came to see His Majesty, Count. May I ask for what purpose?]
[Ah, I had a request regarding the territory I recently received.......]
[Is it lacking? Too small, or the land too barren?]
[No, I simply wish to return the territory.]
[That's interesting.]
He had only called it interesting with words and hadn't bothered to investigate what that territory was, but if Cruel had personally tried to look into it, there was no way he couldn't have found out.
Could the 'territory' from that conversation be this very 'Hart Territory'?
The Duke, who had been narrowing his eyes and meticulously picking apart Cruel's expression, soon chuckled and shook his head.
No, that couldn't be. He must have grown sensitive because of the meeting that would happen shortly.
It must have simply been displeasing that Hart Territory was in the hands of the one who had destroyed his family.
'Surely not for Deon Hart's sake?'
Having thought that far, the Duke smiled lightly at Cruel.
He curved his eyes kindly, as always, then spoke in a gentle, placating tone.
"I didn't mean it as a reprimand. This matter was merely a light event to bestow a reward upon you, after all."
"......."
"Are there no other points of note?"
[You son of a biiiiiitch!!]
Cruel, recalling that outcry and Deon's demeanor from that time, slowly parted his lips, which had been pressed tightly together as if sealed. His green eyes drifted to the floor, and a steady voice flowed out.
"Nothing in particular."
"Is that so?"
"......."
"Understood. I gratefully accept the gift. If you wish, I will transfer all administrative authority over Hart Territory to you."
"......Thank you."
Cruel quietly closed his eyes. The enormous shout of 'You son of a bitch,' compressed with seething fury, seemed to shake his eardrums, and he unconsciously recalled that moment when Deon had noticed the mastermind behind it all.
[You must have had a grand time playing with me, huh? Right? You son of a bitch!!]
All manner of curses poured out. Cruel had been frozen from the instant the word 'Duke' had emerged.
He had noticed.
Opening the window hadn't been for this. He had simply hoped Deon would achieve reasonably satisfactory results and leave; he had never imagined Deon would even deduce the identity of the mastermind.
'Come to think of it, he was quite sharp when we were young.'
It wasn't pleasing at all.
With one arm still hoisting the child, he groped at his waist with his other hand and grasped the hilt of his sword.
'If it's the Duke.......'
He would want this child who'd noticed the mastermind dead.
Clang! Sparks flew.
Having narrowly blocked Deon's attack from an awkward position, Cruel glanced between the interior filled with red-hot heat and his younger brother, then hurriedly stepped away.
Increasing his speed to escape this scorching space even one second faster, Cruel quietly whispered to Deon.
Deon was still spewing curses and struggling.
"If you want to live, do not speak of what you learned here."
Since you are sharp, you will be able to tell what things must not be spoken of.
And just as Deon's dagger was about to plunge into his side once more, Cruel opened the door and went out. He spotted his younger brother's knight, Rien, right in front of him and immediately flung Deon at her.
'.......'
Duke Stave, who had been quietly observing Cruel, lost in thought and saying nothing, drew a natural smile and averted his gaze. His ever-unchanging gentle voice filled the room.
"......And Saelin."
"Yes, Your Grace."
Just like that other time, the woman who had been waiting in the corner for their conversation to end lifted her head.
The woman who had willingly carried out the troublesome task of overseeing the Salvation Church. The Duke curved his eyes at her sweetly.
"Well done."
"......I merely did what needed to be done."
A reply came back one beat late. The Duke didn't mind and continued.
"From now on, move very discreetly beneath the surface. You must not let the Emperor catch wind of anything."
There was a teaching, drilled like brainwashing into the sincere believers who remained after sifting and sifting again through the Salvation Church.
The Emperor is sin, and the Duke is salvation.
The Duke is salvation.
'Stave Illustar is salvation.'
This was the very purpose of the Salvation Church.
To create people blindly devoted to the Duke, Stave Illustar.
Incidentally, to turn public sentiment against the Emperor as well.
"Leave it to me."
"That's reassuring."
He smiled once, then turned his body.
Erasing the woman's existence from his mind, he spoke to Cruel, who was waiting behind him.
"Then let us go. We will be late for the meeting."
He began to move. He could hear footsteps following behind at a steady interval.
The eyes of the Duke, walking ahead, were coldly sunken, as if his earlier demeanor had been a lie.
* * *
By the time the Duke entered the conference hall, everyone except the Emperor was already assembled.
The Noble Faction and the Imperial Faction. At a glance, they were perfectly divided into two groups.
The sight was rather amusing, but the Duke naturally composed his expression and offered a deliberately gentle greeting.
"It seems I'm late."
These words came from the head of the Noble Faction, the man second in power only to the Emperor. The members of the Noble Faction rushed to wave their hands in show.
"Not at all. His Majesty has yet to enter, so the meeting has not yet begun."
"You've arrived at just the right time."
"The agenda hasn't even been presented yet. Please, take your seat."
Following guidance, the Duke sat at the seat of honor among the Noble Faction, the one closest to the Emperor.
At his confident, natural demeanor, the faces of the Imperial Faction twisted, but they said nothing in particular.
By principle, it was correct for him to sit in that seat. It was just that the man himself was so inherently disagreeable that anything he did looked displeasing.
"......A sudden meeting. I'm quite worried about what this could be about."
"I don't know what it is, but it must be something important. There's no way His Majesty would convene such a large meeting without due consideration."
"What in the world could it be......."
Well, it's war.
To think they still couldn't get a grasp on it despite having watched the Emperor all this time. The Duke suppressed the laughter trying to force its way out.
Ever since he had discreetly drawn up the separate budget proposal, he had fully anticipated a situation like this would come.
Even if he hadn't known about the budget proposal, the moment a meeting was convened like this, he would have sufficiently predicted it would be related to 'war.'
This was 'that' Emperor, after all.
The easiest way for a man who had slaughtered all his own bloodline to ascend and prove his qualifications as a sovereign was to turn the tip of his sword outward.
To prove his worth through conquest.
'That is what he can do best, and also—'
—being remembered as a Conquering Emperor was far better than being remembered as an Unfilial Emperor.
'Still, a Conquering Emperor would at least have the praise of expanding the territory.......'
"What does His Grace the Duke think?"
"You mean my thoughts?"
At the abruptly thrown question, he lifted his head and scanned his surroundings.
Not just the Noble Faction, but even the Imperial Faction had their gazes fixed on him, as if curious about his answer.
"Yes, what His Majesty might say......."
"Well. How could I possibly fathom the depths of His Majesty's thoughts?"
"Ah......."
They seemed to have been hoping inwardly. Unlike his sly gestures that seemed to suggest he knew something, when the answer that he didn't know came back, sighs burst out here and there.
These were not people who would believe words spoken aloud at face value. Subtle certainty and doubt lingered in their eyes.
I ought to respond appropriately around now.
Still wearing a suggestive smile, the Duke added, as if letting it slip.
"It's just that lately, the Kingdom of Ireon has been continuously picking fights; I wonder if it's related to that."
A chill silence descended upon the conference hall.
He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes in satisfaction at the silence, but only for a moment. At a cautious summons, the Duke slowly lifted his eyelids.
"Are you saying... that we might go to war?"
"It's merely speculation."
He hadn't openly affirmed it, but it was by no means a denial.
The moment the people in the conference hall closed their mouths at an answer laden with affirmation, a voice announcing the Emperor's entrance was heard outside the door.
No sooner had everyone leapt to their feet than the door opened and the Emperor entered, accompanied by Nemeseus.
For a moment, they flinched at his aggressive stride, advancing straight ahead as if nothing could stop him, and at his fierce momentum. Then a unified greeting flowed from everyone's lips.
"Light upon the Empire."
"Be seated."
A low voice fell.
At the sound, audibly unamused, those taking their seats reflexively examined the Emperor's expression first.
Expressionless. Yet it was a somehow chilling kind of expressionlessness.
The people gathered here were all those who had survived to this day in the Imperial Palace, where heads go flying the moment a nerve is struck. They gauged the Emperor's mood with their instincts and inwardly steeled themselves.
If I let my mouth run, I die. Let's keep it shut as much as possible.
"First, I express my gratitude to you all for participating in this sudden meeting despite your busy schedules."
Well, of course. A few years ago someone had been absent, citing busyness, and lost their title.......
"You must have all come in haste in the middle of your respective duties. Taking that into account, I will enter the main point quickly."
"......."
"Three days from now, I intend to declare war."
"......!"