Hostage Exchange
Orbanen Kalt did not sit down immediately.
He stopped in front of the chair placed between the observer's gallery and the respondent's seat.
All eyes in the council chamber gathered on the elderly elder.
His sloped shoulders were draped in a grey cassock, and his hands were withered.
Orbanen looked down at the chair and spoke.
"Your Majesty, the Demon King."
"Yes?"
"Serapion is not a member of this council."
Several of the Great House heads exchanged glances.
I chuckled inwardly.
Starting with the chair, are we?
"Correct,"
I said.
"Since this is the Council of the Great Houses."
"In that case, it is inappropriate for Serapion to sit in the respondent's seat."
"You arrive late, and your first words are a complaint about a chair?"
"Is a chair not the beginning of protocol?"
Orbanen bowed politely.
"Where one sits often determines what one is called in the future."
I leaned back against my seat and asked,
"Then where would you like to sit?"
"The observer's gallery."
"So you will only observe?"
"I will exercise the right to object if necessary."
"And answering questions?"
Orbanen paused for a fraction of a second.
It was incredibly brief.
Others might have missed it, but I did not.
"That must be decided on a case-by-case basis."
"Very well."
I nodded.
"An observer when it disadvantages you, objecting when you want to speak, and answering only on a case-by-case basis."
Orbanen's expression did not change.
At this rate, he might as well have deposited his facial expressions in a crypt.
"I trust Your Majesty also values the dignity of this council."
"Do not trust me. There are many times I do not even trust myself."
Someone in the chamber gasped.
I pointed a finger toward the guest seats in the back.
"The Council of the Great Houses is an internal meeting of the Demon Realm. I have not changed that principle. Therefore, outsiders have no voting rights."
Elysia Arten watched me silently.
Lena and Lene Brankenheim remained still.
"The Kingdom is the official channel of communication."
I gestured toward Elysia.
"The Northern Archduchy is the guarantor."
Toward the twins.
"And Serapion is the observer and respondent."
Back to Orbanen.
"I did not summon you all to vote."
In truth, I had summoned them to dilute the power of the Great House heads, but there was no need to spell that out.
I spoke in a low voice.
"Serapion's name was used in Lagmund. My letter to the Saintess and the review of the Hero Selection process have already leaked to the outside."
I slowly ran my fingertip along the edge of the desk.
We still have some accounts to settle, don't we?
"Does Your Majesty conclude that Serapion condoned Lagmund's death?"
"No."
I answered immediately.
"If I had summoned you to make a conclusion, it would have been much simpler."
"Then what is it you want?"
"I simply wanted to watch."
"Watch what?"
"Which words you use to wriggle your way out."
Orbanen's eyes darkened.
I continued.
"Whether it is 'unauthorized use,' 'acquiescence,' 'misunderstanding,' 'protocol,' 'deferral,' or 'review.'"
Watching them like this would reveal what they were willing to discard and what they sought to protect.
Orbanen fell silent for a moment.
This silence was one of choosing his words.
"The Church acts for the peace of the world."
Peace.
At that word, an old voice drifted through my mind.
I will pray for you.
So please, do not do anything.
It had probably been the same back then.
Peace, safety, prayers.
Plausible words that quietly brought a person to a halt.
And now, those very words had come back around, aiming to choke the Saintess.
"Peace,"
I muttered softly.
"A fine word."
"Surely Your Majesty does not wish for war either."
"Of course not. War is a nuisance."
The expressions of several Great House heads turned strange.
Why?
Who decided that a Demon King must love war?
War really is a massive pain.
People die, crops burn, wagons break, medicine prices skyrocket, the prisoner registry grows, and you pull all-nighters dealing with the aftermath.
The bastards who love war are usually the ones who have never had to clean up after it.
"Therefore,"
Orbanen said slowly.
"Serapion needs to ensure that the Demon Realm's custody procedures regarding the suspected royal blood do not conflict with the Hero Selection process."
Here it comes. I tilted my head slightly.
"Suspected royal blood."
"Yes."
"Are you referring to my son?"
A few Great House heads missed a beat in their breathing.
Elysia's eyes trembled ever so slightly.
Evelyn did not show a hint of emotion, but her fingertips pressed hard against the corner of the document.
Lena looked at me. Lene looked at Lena.
Orbanen did not flinch.
But deep within his eyes, a tiny calculation slipped.
He doesn't know.
He doesn't know for sure.
The old man knows there is someone suspected of possessing royal blood.
But he doesn't know if the child is suspected of being the late Prince Arkel's posthumous child, if he has been declared my own biological son, or under what category he was placed on the protection list.
Those who pretend to know become the most cautious at the boundaries of their ignorance.
"Serapion has not verified that title."
"Do you wish to verify it?"
"Serapion has no intention of interfering in the succession of the Demon Realm."
"Yet you wish to verify the custody procedures for the suspected royal blood?"
Orbanen held his tongue for a moment.
I smirked.
"First the seats, now the child. Elder Kalt, you are remarkably adept at speaking as though you are deeply interested in another's property but have never laid a finger on it."
"Sometimes one verifies things precisely to avoid touching them."
I clapped.
So that's how you want to play it.
"Then let us verify one thing for the sake of peace as well."
Orbanen's eyes narrowed.
He did not yet know what I was about to say.
Honestly, neither did I until a moment ago.
To be precise, I hadn't expected the perfect opportunity to voice what I had only been pondering to present itself so naturally.
In a place like this, the best weapon is not a pre-sharpened blade.
It is the blade the opponent unsheathes for you with their own hands.
"Serapion wants peace."
"Indeed."
"The Demon Realm does not want war either."
"That is also a relief."
"Then we simply need to guarantee it to each other."
Every gaze in the chamber locked onto me.
I spoke slowly.
"Serapion will send the Saintess."
Over the ears of the bewildered crowd, I layered my next words.
"And the Demon Realm will place the suspected royal child under joint custody."
Somewhere, a chair scraped quietly against the floor.
It was a faint sound, yet it echoed loudly.
"We will place our most dangerous names under each other's surveillance."
I looked at Orbanen.
"The official name will be the Mutual Peace Guarantee Dispatch."
I rolled the words around in my mouth.
It was a useful term for times like this.
Disgusting, yet possessing a certain dignity.
Giving up a bone to take their flesh.
To ensure they wouldn't be able to bring up the Hero for the time being.
I, too, had once been dispatched in such a manner in the past.
"Y-Your Majesty..."
Evelyn's face turned pale.
Orbanen did not answer.
I liked his silence.
He did not rage, nor did he deny it.
"Your Majesty,"
Orbanen finally spoke.
"The Saintess is not an object of exchange."
"Exchange?"
I countered.
"I said 'guarantee.' Surely there was a similar precedent just a few years ago?"
Orbanen's mouth shut.
"Why did you hear it as an exchange?"
Leaning slightly forward through the chilled air of the chamber, I asked,
"Did you think that the moment you sent the Saintess, you would lose her?"
"The Saintess is Serapion's—"
"Does the Saintess belong to Serapion?"
Cut off mid-sentence, Orbanen's gaze turned icy.
"The Saintess is a person consecrated to the Goddess."
"Good. So she is a person?"
Silence.
"If she is a person, shouldn't we ask for her opinion?"
I said.
"Whether she wishes to come."
Orbanen did not answer immediately.
"According to the Church's sacred protocols—"
"No."
I shook my head.
"I did not ask about protocol."
I looked straight into his eyes.
"I am telling you to ask Saintess Ariane Serafel if she wishes to go."
Looking at Orbanen's face, I laughed inwardly.
Got you. I need to squeeze him harder here to extract more concessions.
"You can restrict her duties,"
I said slowly.
"you can stand her before the altar for the Holy Sword's oracle,"
Orbanen remained motionless.
"you can gag her mouth, and you can borrow her knees as you please?"
The air in the chamber plunged into a freezing chill.
Elysia cast her eyes downward.
Evelyn did not pick up her pen.
Lena and Lene held their breath.
The word 'Saintess' belonged to the human realm.
Yet those sitting in the Demon Realm's council chamber now understood exactly how that word was being used.
Orbanen spoke in a low, gravelly voice.
"Your Majesty is insulting the sacred internal protocols of the Church."
"No,"
I replied instantly.
"I am translating."
"Translating?"
"Yes."
I did not smile.
"What you call 'peace,' I call a 'dispatch.'"
A beat.
"What you call 'restriction of duties,' I call a 'gag order.'"
Another beat.
"What you call the 'Holy Sword's oracle,' I call 'borrowing the prayers of a captive.'"
Orbanen had nothing to say.
What I needed today was not Orbanen's submission.
It was to show what he was protecting.
To make everyone in the chamber witness it.
"Will you accept this as an official proposal?"
My question was thrown down like a deciding gambit.
Everyone must have heard my words as a mockery.
That the Demon King was throwing out insane demands just to break Serapion's spirit.
That he was dragging the sacred name of the Saintess down to the level of a hostage to smear the Church's holy face.
They weren't wrong. Half of it was true.
But the other half was no joke.
If I kept Eren hidden deep inside Black King Castle, the child would remain a ticking time bomb next to the throne.
Those who wanted to exploit Brother Arkel's name.
Those who wanted to brand my ascension as a usurpation.
Those who wanted to seize the child and raise him as their banner.
Those who wanted to kill him and turn him into a martyr.
They were all spinning narratives from outside the walls.
In that case...
I would drag it onto the stage.
Turn on the spotlights.
And make it clear whose hand held the hidden blade.
Of course, I didn't actually mean to hand the child over to the Church's vault.
Joint custody, restricted access, mutual signatures.
Demon Realm escorts, deferral of verification, medical responsibility, blocking external contact.
There were plenty of pretty names one could give to chains.
Orbanen frowned, pondering for a long time.
Then he asked,
"Is that proposal... an agenda Your Majesty has actually reviewed?"
This time, I was the one who paused briefly.
Ah.
This old man understood.
He realized that half of my joke was not a joke.
Which meant there were people within Serapion who would actually accept this.
Raoden Berks.
It was probably him.
That hardline Archbishop would gladly call sending Ariane to the Demon Realm "world peace."
If she died, they would call it martyrdom; if she returned alive, they would use her for the oracle and discard her.
If he couldn't tolerate a rebellious Saintess, such a scenario was highly plausible.
They would prepare a new Saintess in the meantime.
There were people in this world who believed a Saintess could simply be replaced.
Just as there were those who believed royal blood could simply be sired again.
I looked at Orbanen.
Orbanen was looking at me too.
We understood each other a little.
It was unpleasant, but we understood.
"Let us keep it as a joke for now."
Sighs of relief escaped from several corners of the chamber.
Fools.
Why do they still not realize that the jokes we utter are usually just the drafts of future treaties?
I did not take my eyes off Orbanen.
"But if Serapion truly wishes to speak of world peace,"
I said in a low voice.
"untie the Saintess's tongue first."
Silence.
"Do not seek an oracle through a gagged Saintess."
Orbanen's fingertips pressed against the edge of his sleeve once more.
"And before you worry about my child,"
I said slowly.
"bring me word of what your Saintess actually wants."
Orbanen did not answer for a long time.
That silence was not protocol.
Nor was it a mere phrasing.
It was a calculation, and at the same time, a crack.
He was currently thinking of the hands hiding behind the name of Serapion.
Raoden and the hardliners aligned with him.
Those who wanted to sweep the name of Ariane Serafel aside.
And the old men who were already calculating whom to place in her empty seat.
These were all matters that needed to be re-examined.
I gestured to Evelyn.
Finally, Orbanen spoke.
"The Saintess's intentions must be verified."
He probably means he needs to check the internal consensus of the Church, not the Saintess's actual intentions.
Typical of a medieval religious institution.
But the door had been opened.
I let out a small chuckle.
"Then go and verify it."
This time, it was not the minutes of the meeting.
It was not a document, nor was it an answer.
Everyone in the chamber saw the hairline fracture that had formed on Orbanen Kalt's face.
That was enough.
Because the fingers of the Church, hiding behind the word 'Saintess,'
had finally begun to show.