The Conditions of the Holy Sword

"It feels like a romantic journey taken by just the two of us, so I'm in a wonderful mood. It's only a shame that even this is drawing to its close..."

Having spent several weeks sweeping across the Empire, quelling the plague I myself had spread, I lightly rubbed my weary eyes.

At that, Miho—who had by now returned to her human form—nestled in from her mount into my arms and nuzzled her head against me.

Perhaps because we were high in the sky, the wind blowing past was rather sharp, so instead of pushing her warmth away, I gently drew her closer.

And so the darkness was pushed back. When dawn began to brighten beyond the horizon, I reached the border of the Asbarok Kingdom, one of my final destinations.

There, the soldiers guarding the castle gate blocked my path, coughing and hacking.

"Th-the Prince of the Bertian Empire...?"

"Yes. Now clear the way and let me into the capital."

Had I kept crossing over the sky, I wouldn't have needed to bother with such tedious procedures, but I had deliberately chosen this route.

"Word had already reached us of your coming, so the royal decree was issued long ago... We ask that you make your way to the capital at once."

"The dragon blessed by the Goddess won't help me indefinitely."

Full daylight would break before long. And once it did, the constraints binding me to the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons would release Miho from my summons.

"Th-then, while you do have her bound for the moment, could you not show us mercy as well..."

"That, I suppose, I must first discuss with the lord of this land."

Making my way inside and entering the local lord's manor, I forced down a lavish banquet prepared in my honor with the utmost devotion.

Yes, forced down, in the most literal sense.

Frankly, this was a matter of reaping the seeds I had sown myself—how could my heart be light about it?

Above all, when the lord of this land pleaded for the cure of his own son, stricken with the plague, I had to swallow a bitter groan all over again.

The possibility of children dying—something I had deliberately shoved into a corner of my mind and refused to think about.

It shredded my guilt to ribbons.

...Judging by how things are flowing, he'll probably agree right away. I only pray he doesn't drag this out with some pointless tug-of-war.

If the King of Asbarok rejected the proposal anyway, and the death toll began climbing geometrically past the deadline, a riot would erupt. And if that happened, even without unleashing the Succubus, the Empire itself could intervene openly, brand him a tyrant, and maneuver its way into political interference.

The nobles and royals might grumble, but with the plague before them, the people of the Allied Kingdoms seemed to have forgotten any old grudges between nations for the time being—so resistance would be minimal.

Thus, unable to turn my face from my churning guilt to the very end, I gathered up the roots of the plague with wide-area healing while I lingered here, then pressed on without rest toward the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠capital of Asbarok.

"H-he's here!"

"The Saint has come!"

"We're all going to live now!"

When I arrived at the capital of Asbarok, lowered my altitude, and flew through the city atop the Azure Dragon—Miho's mount—the people here sent up cheers. If they could raise such voices even late at night, things were clearly dire indeed.

Afterward, the moment I set foot before the royal palace, I found myself face to face with the First Prince of this land.

"You've come alone, Your Highness?"

"I've been granted full authority over this matter by His Majesty."

"And what does that mean?"

"It means that for now, I speak as His Majesty's proxy."

The First Prince, who was not so dense as to miss the weight of those words, swallowed hard and ushered me inside.

Entering the royal audience chamber, I coughed drily and came before the King and his vassals, who stood waiting with visibly poor complexions.

"There is no time, so I will state my terms quickly—this must reach the Kingdom of Ludelia as well. Approve the agreement that was deferred at our past summit, and in exchange I will suppress the plague spreading across your entire kingdom, Your Majesty."

"M-must you really leverage political advantage over a matter of human lives?"

One of the men spoke up, his voice thick with displeasure, and I answered in a tone of perfect indifference.

"So you do intend to abandon your people's lives, then."

"..."

"If time goes on and the dead begin to pile up, will you be able to bear their curses? Riots will break out, and the kingdom's people will cross the border of their own accord. And when that day comes, I will have no choice but to act in accordance with the doctrines of the Goddess Iris—I cannot simply look away."

"Ar-are you threatening us?!"

Was there a nobler pretext anywhere than the sweet words of salvation and justice?

"Furthermore, the Kingdom of Asbarok will construct a temple of the Order of Iris."

With each condition I added, the people gathered here bit their lips and bowed their heads a little lower.

That this was less a negotiation than a notification, they themselves knew better than anyone.

Building a temple—the very symbol of the faith—within their kingdom meant that while I could not meddle in their politics as an Imperial Prince or future Emperor, I would be planting the possibility that, through the seat of Pope, my hand could reach them as far as I wished.

With my image as a savior hardening through the suppression of the plague, it would hardly please the royal house if faith in the Order came to outweigh even the people's loyalty to their own crown within their own borders.

Frankly speaking, pressing for the construction of a temple bordered on lunacy.

But this would become a safeguard, ensuring the Allied Kingdoms wouldn't play any foolish games with me later.

"Wide-Area.Healing."

"...!"

"In the hope that you will spend a full day in deep deliberation, I have cured the plague of everyone gathered here."

The time for pointless talk was ending, and I coldly turned my back on them.

"That one day must feel like a year to the people of this land. The lamps of this audience chamber will not go out tonight—but whether the lamps in your people's homes will burn the same, I cannot say. Deliberate carefully."

On the surface it looked like a courtesy extended to them, but at its core it was an act bordering on filth.

I had severed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the bond between the current royal house and its people entirely.

If negotiations collapsed here, and the royal family and their ministers walked away fully cured of the plague—what better blueprint could there be for a nation to run red with blood?

So I walked out into the silent corridor.

◇◇◇◆◇◇◇

Left behind in the audience chamber, the ministers and King of Asbarok could not summon a single bright expression, even though the plague that had been gnawing at their own flesh had vanished.

From their perspective, this had effectively stripped them of every ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠choice.

"He is... a truly cruel man."

"If we refuse now, every last stain of blame will fall upon the royal house."

"Then we have no choice but to accept."

At his ministers' ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠words, the King clutched at his hair and let out a long sigh.

"Still, if a true god really does exist, and if the power of Dragon Tongue is not inherited through bloodline... then looking toward the future, this is closer to the lesser evil than the worst outcome."

"...Are you merely speculating?"

"I am. But if it truly were inherited by blood, then a bearer of the Dragon Tongue would not have appeared timed precisely to the resurrection of the Demonic Tree. The blessing was granted to the Imperial house of the Empire and to it alone... If we too change our stance step by step, nothing is beyond hoping for. For now, in a situation where refusal is impossible, this is how we must think..."

"That's not wrong."

"Honestly, if Prince Rohen had truly set his mind to squeezing us, he would have piled on far harsher conditions than these."

Galling as it was, in the end—feeling as though they were slicing off their own flesh—Asbarok resolved to accept the proposal.

And so, in the small hours of the night, the King of Asbarok pressed the royal seal onto the agreement that had been deferred at the past summit and ordered it delivered to Prince Rohen.

Rohen, who had been unable to sleep, let out a quiet breath of relief at the answer coming faster than expected.

Cast in the role of villain, his hands stained with filth—it was never a welcome business.

With a portion of that psychological weight lifted, Rohen managed a brief, easy sleep, rose at noon to relay his instructions, and when night fell once more, rode Miho's aid up into the familiar sky.

The instant he channeled the power of Dragon Tongue into Wide-Area and Healing, even at this great distance, it almost seemed he could hear the cheers of the people below.

Down on the ground, meanwhile, the royals of the Asbarok house—who were hearing not an illusion but genuine cries of adoration—wiped their faces and turned away.

The hearts of their people should have been turning toward them, the roots still taking hold beneath their feet—not toward a prince of some other empire they could no longer even see.

Wrapped head to toe in helplessness, they could not lift their heads, and the princes clenched their fists until they trembled, watching their father's back—the King, leading them forward at the very front—look so impossibly small.

...How long had it been since they had felt such burning indignation?

Truthfully, if his heart had its way, the First Prince who had stood in that audience chamber wanted nothing more than to spit it all out—based on the ministers' speculation, that before Rohen flew up into the sky, this entire affair was nothing but a stage play powered by the Dragon Tongue.

How much simpler it would have been to hurl that accusation outright.

But in the end he could not, and instead he was forced to mouth hollow pleasantries about looking forward to working together against their common nemesis, the Demon King's army.

Perhaps the only consolation, if it could be called that, was that the Kingdom of Ludelia would share in this same helplessness and this same fury.

◇◇◇◆◇◇◇

Having swept across the entirety of the Asbarok Kingdom and torn the plague out by its roots, I turned toward the Kingdom of Ludelia and paid down my accumulated Awe Points, bringing Excalibur's transmutation rate to a full 100%.

Truthfully, I had a considerable curiosity of my own about how Excalibur—drawing on pure, undistorted historical records rather than the countless media adaptations—would actually perform.

"Transmute."

So, descending briefly to the ground, I took up the Excalibur that had manifested through transmutation.

It lay concealed within a golden scabbard, so I tried to draw the blade and take a look—

Clack.

It did not budge an inch.

A definition of specific conditions?

It'll vacuum up every Awe Point I have, and then it turns out the restrictions are even bigger than I thought.

Thinking that I hadn't expected to be blindsided like this, I strained against the Excalibur in my hand, trying to wrench it free by force—but in the end, I gave up.

If I must define a condition... then let it be a sword that can only be drawn in battle against demons.

Having read the notification, I dismissed Excalibur's manifestation.

Once I had driven out Ludelia's measles as well, I intended to turn my attention to the transmutation of Divine Instruments.

But Divine Instruments could be used only once—so I would have to be all the more careful.

A single use was already a heavy enough restriction; if useless clauses came piled on top of it, conditions I could never actually put to good use, that would be a genuine problem.