Chapter 74: The Pirate King of Laxas (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 74: The Pirate King of Laxas (1)
It had been about a week and five days since they left the Colony.
“Then I shall see you again next time, Count!”
“I look forward to it.”
Leaving behind the merchant guild leader, who was bowing so deeply he was practically folded in half, Alon decided to return to the Palatio estate first. He couldn't exactly drag the treasure carriage he’d received from the Colony along on the rest of his journey.
After returning to the estate and stashing both carriages, he immediately set out for Lartania. If the road to Lartania had been in the complete opposite direction of Laxas, he would have headed straight for his destination without hesitation. Fortunately, Lartania was located on the way to Laxas.
Of course, even as a stopover, it wasn't the shortest route, meaning he had to take a bit of a detour. However, he was more than willing to accept that and set off on his journey once more.
Five days passed.
“Count.”
As Alon stared blankly at the forest stretching lazily before them, Evan, who was driving the carriage, suddenly spoke up.
“What is it?”
“It’s nothing major, but you’ve seemed troubled lately.”
“Do I look that way?”
“Yes. Haven't you been lost in thought quite often recently?”
Alon remained silent for a moment at Evan’s observation before replying.
“I suppose I have.”
“Is it because of what happened last time? You mentioned you had things to think about.”
At Evan’s words, Alon pondered.
‘I am curious about that, too.’
However, the reason Alon had been lost in thought lately wasn't because of faith. Of course, he was very curious as to why a vessel capable of holding Status had formed within him.
But that was a matter with far too little information to solve through solitary contemplation or deduction. Alon’s current focus was not on faith, but on the last thing the Dragonkin had said.
‘...Two possibilities.’
He recalled the Dragonkin talking about magic back then.
—As you know, a spell created by a Magus fundamentally requires a ‘Heart Image’ to be cast.
—This is an immutable law and truth, a logic as natural and fixed as the rising and setting of the sun. And yet—you ignore it as if it were nothing.
Alon then remembered the Dragonkin extending his index and middle fingers—fingers that were sharper than a human's.
—That law is immutable. It is something that absolutely cannot and must not be changed. Therefore, I believe you fall into one of two cases.
—One is that you, standing here now, are a non-human entity of a level I cannot even imagine.
—And the other is that you simply do not remember.
‘Those are the two conclusions I’ve reached. Think on it,’ the Dragonkin had said before seeing him off. Alon smacked his lips.
‘No matter how much I think about it, I don't think it's either.’
Naturally, Alon was not some non-human entity. If he were such a transcendent being as the Dragonkin suggested, he wouldn't be struggling like this in the first place.
But the second suggestion regarding ‘memory’ didn't resonate with Alon at all either. He had never lived through the forgotten Age of Gods, when Magi were said to have existed.
Even in the game, the Age of Gods was merely background lore. Babylonian Phrases and beastmen were just means to increase magic attack power; the setting itself had never been properly fleshed out.
In other words, the only reason Alon knew anything at all about the Heart Image was thanks to his conversation with the Dragonkin. He had even asked if there were any other possibilities besides those two.
The Dragonkin had been firm, stating there were no other possibilities.
‘Good grief. It feels like the more time passes, the more things I realize I don't know rather than things being revealed.’
Alon let out a short sigh but soon shrugged. If what the Dragonkin said was true, then going to Laxas would eventually allow him to see the truth of this world.
...Of course, to him, predicting whether a crisis would befall the world was more important than peering into the world's truth. Now, as always, his original goal of a peaceful life remained his ultimate objective.
“A peaceful life.”
Evan, reacting to the low murmur beneath the sound of the rolling wheels, spoke up.
“Do you wish to live a peaceful life?”
“I do.”
“...For someone who says that, your life doesn't seem peaceful at all.”
“I’m just a bit busy right now.”
“I don't think it'll be any different a few years from now...”
“...”
Alon said nothing. As much as he hated to admit it, he secretly felt the same way.
“Evan.”
“Yes.”
“Eat nothing but sweet potatoes for dinner tonight.”
“...Pardon?”
Since thinking and speaking were two different things, Alon showed a bit of pettiness as he looked out the carriage window. Contrary to Alon’s inner turmoil, the scenery outside was perfectly peaceful.
It was a day of the late setting sun.
* * *
A few more days passed, and Alon arrived in Lartania. Before heading to see Merde, he decided to stop nearby to buy a suitable gift. He didn't intend to get his artifacts appraised for free, but regardless, he felt it was only polite to bring a gift or two when visiting someone’s home.
Furthermore, it weighed on him that he hadn't been able to bring a gift when he rushed off to deal with the Outer God last time. Remembering that there had been a worn-out fountain pen in Line’s office, he stopped by a shop to buy one.
While choosing something that wasn't overly burdensome but didn't look cheap either, he overheard a rumor.
“Did you hear?”
“Hear what?”
“Another member of the Council of Three died.”
“I heard that too. You mean ‘Bima,’ right?”
“Yeah, that guy.”
“Hmph, he certainly deserved to die, considering all the bribes he took... But with this, since Riot, another councilor, is also dead...”
“Line is the only one left. Everyone’s in an uproar because of it.”
“Why?”
“It’s just something I heard, but they say she killed all the other councilors herself.”
“Why would such a rumor spread?”
“Well—it’s not confirmed, but apparently they had a fight recently. I heard someone insulted her godfather—”
“...??”
It was a rather unsettling rumor.
* * *
Deus Macallian, known as the Second Sword among the Five Swords of Calliban, possessed absolute fame within the kingdom. Although it was an unofficial match with no records, the fact that he had defeated Reinhardt had already spread throughout Calliban.
Of course, in contrast to his brilliant fame and overwhelming charisma, there were occasional whispers behind his back. Some said that despite being a Master Knight, he had a suspiciously strong obsession with magic. Others claimed he would practice swordsmanship every night, only to cautiously strike strange poses and mimic casting spells when he thought no one was looking...
...Regardless, Deus Macallian’s fame was so overwhelming that such odd rumors couldn't gain any traction.
However, there were those who did not view this situation favorably. The Prince of Calliban was one of them.
Tyrian, the second son of King Palmalian IV of Calliban, was not at all pleased with the situation. This was because he shared a bitter history with Deus Macallian.
Of course, the reason their relationship had soured was entirely his own fault. Unlike the 1st Prince, who was hailed as kingly material, Tyrian was known as the palace scoundrel. In the past, he had tried to lay a hand on Deus Macallian’s only younger sister.
Tyrian couldn't help but hate him, as he remembered being humiliated and beaten in a duel sanctioned by the King after he had spewed vulgar comments and harassed Deus’s sister.
“Tch.”
Anyway, the reason he was currently thinking about Deus—whom he didn't even want to think about—was because of a secret request he had received today. A request to put political pressure on Count Palatio.
Granting the request wasn't particularly difficult. In fact, it was more than just easy; he absolutely had to fulfill it. The reason Tyrian, the 2nd Prince, could maintain his faction despite his scoundrel-like behavior was because of the ‘items’ provided by the person who made this request.
Furthermore, the difficulty of the request itself wasn't that high. Launching a political attack on Count Palatio out of the blue would normally be a very burdensome task for him. After all, Count Palatio was not a noble of Calliban, but a noble of the Asteria Kingdom. Even if they were bound by the United Kingdoms, one had to be careful about pressuring foreign nobles in such a manner.
Nevertheless, the reason Tyrian described pressuring Count Palatio as easy was simple. The person who sent the letter had provided quite reasonable information that wouldn't make it seem strange for the 2nd Prince of Calliban to pressure him. It meant he could apply pressure with little risk.
By granting this request, he could also put the sender of the letter in his debt.
The only problem was that Count Palatio was very close to Deus Macallian. Or, to be more precise, the obstacle was that Deus Macallian liked Count Palatio more than one would expect.
“Hmm...”
He was well aware that whenever the topic of mages came up during the meetings of the Five Swords, Deus would immediately bring up Count Palatio and give a nearly hour-long lecture on the Count’s greatness. Tyrian knew this because he received regular reports from one of the swordsmen in his faction.
He even knew that recently, it had reached a point where Deus would burst into praises for the Count so suddenly that people would wonder, ‘Wait, why is Count Palatio being mentioned now?’
‘Hmm...’
Tyrian was conflicted. Granting the request to antagonize Count Palatio was nothing compared to what he stood to gain. Moreover, for someone who hated Deus, it was a golden opportunity to screw over the Count whom Deus adored.
However, the reason he couldn't easily make a decision was that he didn't know what Deus Macallian might do once he heard the news. Despite his absolute fame, wasn't the man like a mad dog?
Tyrian pondered for a while but soon made his decision.
‘No matter how crazy he is, there’s no way he can move.’
Tyrian wore a villainous smile. The only reason Deus Macallian had been able to beat him to a pulp and humiliate him in the past was because he had a justification.
But without a justification, no matter how much of a mad dog Deus Macallian was, he couldn't touch him. No matter how small his faction was or how much he had lost the current King’s trust, he was still the 2nd Prince of Calliban. Deus’s side would surely know that touching him without any justification was practically an act of insanity.
So, Tyrian was certain that Deus wouldn't be able to do anything.
...Until a day ago.
CRASH!
Tyrian stared forward with a blank expression. Standing in the doorway of his office in the star palace, which had been completely smashed to pieces, was a man.
A man holding a wooden sword in one hand: Deus Macallian.
“The Sword of Calliban greets the successor to the Five Swords.”
His vivid purple eyes glowed with intensity.
“I have come... because there is something I wish to ask.”
He had come for him.