Chapter 8
Chapter 8
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: The Hated Dog
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“Your Excellency invited me, not a man.”
“……Well, as long as you fulfill your role, Sir, what does gender matter?”
The Southern Duke replied in a somewhat weary voice, his brow furrowed. As he said, what he needed was an invincible mercenary, not a man or a woman. As long as victory was assured, gender was irrelevant. But the issue Lena had caused wasn’t just about gender, so the Southern Duke pointed out the remaining problem.
“What’s your relation to Rubel?”
“She’s my daughter.”
“Merely?”
“If I must elaborate, a daughter whose existence is inconvenient?”
“The North will make a fuss.”
The old man muttered with a click of his tongue. In terms of results alone, Southern Duke Bill Aless had put Northern Marquis Rubel in a difficult position. He had brought into the imperial palace a being the marquis wanted hidden. Claiming ignorance now would make him a fool, and staying silent would amount to provoking the North. Neither option was good. Yet the Southern Duke did not rage at Lena for deceiving and using him. It was because he had infinite trust in the Executor mercenary.
“You didn’t do this without thought.”
“Of course not.”
“What do you plan to do?”
“Meet my father as his daughter.”
“Have you considered my position?”
“I’d appreciate it if you’d defend me.”
“You want me to make an enemy of the North?”
“To side with the weak.”
The Southern Duke groaned at Lena’s proposal. Siding with the weak— it sounded noble. Depending on how it was used, it could even paint a favorable picture. The South already had many who gnashed their teeth at the North’s arrogance. Moreover, to rally the ruined South, creating an us-versus-them dynamic against the North wasn’t a bad strategy. But this was only possible if the South could stand as the North’s equal.
“Only the strong can side with the weak. The weak are merely weak.”
The Southern Duke spoke with sharp eyes. No matter how bravely one claimed to be a champion of justice, defeat or breaking would make them an even more pitiable weakling. Righteousness shone only in victory.
“Can you take responsibility for the outcome?”
As the old man asked with the grim resolve of one facing bitter medicine, Lena smiled and nodded. The reason Lena had answered the Southern Duke’s summons was solely to meet her father, but that didn’t mean she intended to neglect her promise to him. Just as the Southern Duke trusted Lena, she too held her own loyalty toward him.
“There’s only one thing I want.”
“The stability of the South.”
“Yes. This land I’ve protected— I can’t hand it over to those dog-like Northeastern bastards.”
Dog-like Northeastern bastards. Lena briefly thought of Lin at the part where the Southern Duke ground his teeth.
“I won’t beat around the bush. Use me as I use you. But if your personal matters cause you to neglect my affairs, I won’t stand idly by.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. I’ll ensure my victory becomes Your Excellency’s victory.”
At the Southern Duke’s warning, Lena humbly replied and knelt. The ire in the old man’s eyes was then overtaken by a glint of admiration. The Executor— in other words, Lena on the battlefield— was as sleek as a leopard. Her movements in combat were always powerful and swift, flowing smoothly. Even the smallest gesture of propriety from such a body seemed wondrously elegant. The Southern Duke, a former comrade-in-arms of the Executor, found this side of her unexpected. Only now, with his heart eased, did the old man voice what had piqued his curiosity since earlier.
“Is that real?”
“Pardon?”
“That appearance just now— is that your true form, Sir?”
Lena burst into laughter at the unexpected question.
“No.”
“No?”
“It’s neither true nor false. No matter the appearance, it’s me.”
What an insolent response.
***
The Southern Duke actually felt relieved at Lena’s impertinence. In truth, he favored those who were so annoyingly competent. Such people, at least, didn’t harbor treacherous schemes like a crafty fox. Not like this one.
“It’s been a while, Duke Aless.”
A stunningly beautiful silver-haired man greeted the Southern Duke with feigned warmth. Draped in pure white cardinal robes that seemed more luxurious than holy, he exuded a strangely lascivious aura. His name was Clavis Sirenchium Grasha. Once the Western Duke, now, with the West devoured by wraiths, he served as cardinal in the imperial palace. He was also a not-so-distant relative to Bill Aless Grasha, but the Southern Duke didn’t care much for this sly fellow.
“Plenus still hasn’t arrived?”
“Well, yeah. The protagonist always shows up last, right?”
When the Southern Duke sidestepped the greeting, Clavis narrowed his eyes and smiled. The Southern Duke despised that fox-like expression too. But Clavis, knowing full well, pressed on amiably.
“Then shall we devise countermeasures before Yiura arrives?”
“Countermeasures?”
“Our dear Yiura is quite worked up, they say. Ah, what were you thinking? Lena Rubel, of all people— when everyone knows Yiura keeps Rubel close.”
“So, you’re saying I should back down now?”
“Ahaha, no way. Just be cautious. No need for unnecessary fights.”
As the Southern Duke turned serious, Clavis laughed and tried to slip away. Normally, the Southern Duke would click his tongue and let it end there. But today was different. Recalling his promise to Lena, the Southern Duke deliberately picked at Clavis’s words.
“If an unnecessary fight arises, is that my fault?”
“Pardon?”
“If discord breaks out, it’s proof of Rubel’s lack of virtue. I declare: if this unseemly matter is true, neither Rubel nor the Northern pup will escape responsibility.”
The Southern Duke spoke as if baring his fangs. No sooner had he finished than the conference hall doors burst open.
“Who says whose responsibility cannot be escaped?”
A heavy voice followed, laced with chilling menace. At that unwelcome sound, the Southern Duke and the cardinal both looked up. In the center of the widely opened doors stood a man. A threatening figure in crimson uniform. It was Yiura Plenus Grasha, king of the North.
“The protagonist at last.”
As the cardinal tittered, Yiura dismissed the knights who followed him and took his seat. Then, without greeting, he rebuked the Southern Duke.
“You’ve been reckless.”
“Reckless?”
“Using a woman like some lowly thug.”
The Southern Duke’s eyes flashed at the young man’s provocation. The tiger-like old man grew furious, but Yiura stared back unflinchingly.
“Whether I’m reckless or you’re stubborn, we’ll soon find out.”
“Since when has right or wrong mattered?”
“What?”
“What the South must mind is not right or wrong, but the North’s moods and whims.”
“Your arrogance knows no bounds!”
“Be more mindful of your bravado, Sir. Don’t waste the life you’ve staked on the battlefield.”
Thud! A thunderous crash echoed. The Southern Duke’s fist slamming the round table.
‘This dog-like bastard.’
The Southern Duke ground his teeth, glaring fiercely at Yiura, who was like his nephew. Yiura, in turn, looked down imperiously at his elder, the Southern Duke.
“Now, now, calm down. If the imperial citizens saw us fighting like this, they’d laugh.”
At the cardinal’s mediation, the glaring North and South dukes reluctantly averted their eyes. On the surface, it looked like the Southern elder had yielded, but in truth, Yiura of the North harbored far more complex feelings. The dukes’ conference was a place to gauge each faction’s stance. Emotional displays here must be seen as calculated. In that sense, the Southern Duke had strongly signaled his intent to protect Lena Rubel. From the Northern Duke’s perspective, it was an incomprehensible judgment. Why this move? A ploy to oppose the North? Or had the old man lost his senses over a young woman? He had no interest in what the suddenly appeared Lena Rubel was. What intrigued him was the South’s intent in pushing a woman forward to stir conflict.
“I don’t know what you’re relying on, but the North…….”
Yiura began another warning but stopped. The hall outside had grown oddly chaotic. Wondering who dared cause a commotion, the three dukes turned toward the door. That was when it happened. The door slammed open noisily, and a man tumbled to the floor.
“Ugh……!”
The pitiful figure was the cardinal’s guard from outside. Struck hard in the solar plexus, he curled up like a trampled insect, gasping. The Southern Duke started to ask what was happening but shut his mouth upon seeing the youth at the door. Yiura’s gaze grew even colder, and Clavis smiled brightly. Clavis whispered just audibly.
“The real protagonist has arrived.”
The three dukes showed varied reactions, but the youth in question paid no mind. He stepped deliberately over the fallen man’s body, then said with a lazy smile.
“You’re all here.”
What an insolent tone. At the intrusion, the Southern Duke grilled Clavis.
“I hadn’t heard of this.”
“News to me as well.”
“Have I come to a place I shouldn’t?”
The uninvited guest interjected into their conversation as he pleased. At the successive rudeness, the Southern Duke finally snapped.
“If you want a seat at the round table, show at least basic courtesy.”
“Courtesy?”
But the youth scoffed instead.
“You lot, conspiring like rats in the shadows, talk of courtesy?”
A blue killing intent gathered in the youth’s eyes as he retorted. Faced with that murderous threat, the Southern Duke ground his teeth.
‘This dog-like bastard!’
If Yiura was a rude mutt, that one was a rabid dog on the loose. The East’s mad dog, always snapping at any opening.
‘Dog-like Rig-nan Aiterner!’
The Southern Duke met the youth— Lin— ’s killing intent with deep-rooted contempt. To the empire’s rightful heirs bearing the Grasha name, Rig-nan Aiterner was a disgrace by his very existence. A colonial slave-born upstart playing lord of the East. Somehow aware of the dukes’ gathering, he had waltzed in on his own accord, acting the duke.
“Fine. If that’s Grasha courtesy, I’ll gladly oblige.”
Lin, who had held daggers in his eyes, suddenly grinned and took a seat at the table. Then, with a sly face, he added.
“So I don’t mistake you rats and crush you underfoot.”
Almost simultaneously, Yiura shot to his feet.
“I’ll take my leave first. Duke Aless, we’ll finish our unfinished talk next time.”
“Very well. I was about to head out myself.”
The North and South dukes, who had been growling moments before, rose as if brushing off filth from their hands. Once they left, the cardinal propped his chin and muttered.
“A fine entrance, protagonist.”
Clavis smiled warmly at Lin, then rose from his seat as well. Thus, Lin was left alone. Thoroughly ignored, he didn’t care in the slightest and propped his feet triumphantly on the table they had vacated.
***
The Southern Duke, stepping into the corridor ahead of the cardinal, vented his rage with heavy breaths.
‘Dog-like bastard, arrogant fool who doesn’t know his place!’
He hated to admit it, but that Eastern bastard had gotten his way again. The three dukes of South, North, and West had scattered to avoid the one Eastern Duke. Humiliating, but there was no other choice. They couldn’t eject an emperor-recognized duke, and ignoring him beside them would equate to treating the lowly cur as their equal. That’s why they always ended up fleeing from him. As the Southern Duke strode ahead with a sour face, boisterous laughter erupted from behind. It was the vulgar mob of Rig-nan Aiterner’s ilk, occupying the sacred conference hall and crowing in triumph.