Chapter 199: Emotion (5)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 199: Emotion (5)
Julian’s family, House Askar, had always stood at the forefront of racial division and discrimination. It was a tradition passed down through generations, woven into the very fabric of their lineage.
Pure Aran.
The Askar family’s genetic traits were overwhelmingly dominant; almost everyone in their bloodline possessed blond hair and golden eyes. This held true for Julian, as well as his younger brother, Leon.
But Julian—Julian, at least—might have harbored deep-seated doubts about this doctrine of pureblood supremacy.
Perhaps it began when the servant who had cared for him so tenderly in his childhood was beaten to death, simply for having the blood of a sub-species.
Or when the nanny who had raised him like a mother was cruelly cast out of the mansion, simply for being of another race.
In those moments, Julian might have sensed that the order of the Empire and his family was fundamentally flawed.
Later, upon entering Empire Point, he met a man named Ashton. It was entirely possible that Ashton had approached him intentionally. The eldest son of House Askar was, after all, the perfect target for Izenheim to exploit.
Julian spent his time with Ashton as a friend, a comrade, a brother-in-arms.
But at some point, Ashton let it slip that he was a member of Izenheim.
Or perhaps, he revealed it on purpose.
Seeing Julian’s wavering resolve, Ashton had miscalculated. He believed Julian’s inherent goodness would transcend racial prejudice, leading him to fully understand their cause.
But Julian was a man who upheld his duty as a Knight of the Empire. He was a man who placed his responsibilities above his personal feelings.
There was, however, one mistake Julian made.
Instead of executing Ashton on the spot, he showed mercy, merely expelling him from the Knights Order.
Ashton, having survived, must have kept Laura constantly updated on his situation through letters. And Julian, in turn, must have secretly intercepted and censored the letters Ashton sent to her.
In that process, he naturally would have learned the codes and secret phrases the two shared. At the same time, he would have sealed away his true feelings forever.
…Even this is nothing more than my own speculation.
I still do not fully understand the man named Julian. I cannot know his exterior, nor can I see his interior. The face he shows the world has been worn away to the point that his inner self is entirely obscured.
"…"
I was still in the Sentinel office. Laura’s eyes stared at me in silence. Even on the verge of death, her gaze held an unwavering emotion.
"—The Dream Road," she bit out the words. "That operation the Sentinels are so proud of, the one you all go around bragging about."
A distorted fury spread across her pale face.
"Ashton was sacrificed because of you. It’s no different than if you had tortured and killed him yourselves."
The incident where Ashton—exposed as a sub-species by Julian and cast out—died a miserable death at the hands of the Cartel.
No, the incident where Julian had 'sold him out' to the Cartel.
"His only dream was to become a Knight of the Empire. To help those in need. But because of that illusion called Aran… he lost his life. He was betrayed by the comrade he loved most."
Laura poured out her resentment, her eyes bloodshot.
"Do you know? The one who sold Ashton to the Cartel was—"
"Julian," I finished.
At my response, Laura’s face went slack, as if a thread had snapped.
"I know all too well," I answered nonchalantly. "The operation known as 'Dream Road' was a joint effort between Julian and myself."
A sudden chill formed in Laura’s eyes. Her shoulders trembled, and the shaking quickly spread through her entire body.
"Ashton was a sub-species. That fact alone was grounds for his execution." I offered a faint smile. "It couldn’t be helped. Emotions are unnecessary for a knight."
In fact, thanks to Julian, he had lived a much longer life.
She laughed through her tears, her rebuttal steeped in helplessness.
"No. Emotions are precious."
I listened to her words in silence.
"They are the noblest and most beautiful things only humans can possess."
Things only humans can possess.
That was precisely why Izenheim exploited them.
"Then, by all means, take something so beautiful…"
I scrawled my pen across the document.
The charge: Suspicion of insurrection. The sentence: Death.
"…And die cherishing it."
*
…Reutern II, a nobleman of the Imperial Palace, found his days terribly dull as of late.
"Maybe I shouldn’t have given that speech."
The electrifying moment when he had stood on the podium of the House of Nobles, all eyes upon him, kept replaying in his mind. It made his subsequent daily life feel utterly bland in comparison.
Rumors of revolutionary groups and whatnot were circulating within the Knights Order, but inside the Imperial Palace, it was dead quiet.
"Hmph."
Anyway, those damn Valkanian bastards. Their prime minister, who had dared to insult the imperial royalty and unilaterally start a war, was apparently struggling against some tribal nation.
Thanks to that, many nobles were showering him with praise. 'Your Grace’s foresight is truly profound,' they would say, or 'You are a genius of diplomacy.' And while it honestly made his ego swell, Reutern couldn’t help but wonder what the point of it all was.
"Haaah…"
He was sleepy no matter how much he slept. There were no exciting events, only strangely annoying matters that kept cropping up. Nobles from the palace and no-name bureaucrats constantly visited him, asking for his counsel with grave faces.
"What do you think will become of the continental situation?"
"What are your thoughts on the Empire’s next move?"
How the fuck should I know?
He wanted to scream it, but on the outside, he maintained a solemn expression, offered a few vague, high-minded platitudes, and sent them on their way. That was his daily routine.
Still, it was kind of funny—admirable even, and certainly entertaining—to see them hang onto his every word with such serious, intense expressions.
Knock, knock—
Just as he was about to close his eyes and drift off, another knock sounded.
Reutern frowned. "Ugh. Come in."
"…Your Grace." The secretary entered cautiously and held out a wooden box.
"What’s this now?"
"A gift from Mekerel."
"Mekerel? Who’s that?"
"The… southern tribal nation currently at war with Valkania."
"Ah, right."
Reutern took the box nonchalantly, but the moment he opened the lid, his eyes flew wide open.
"…Oh? Ooh?!"
Inside rested a necklace—coarse and rugged, yet imbued with extraordinary mana. It was a strikingly exotic and wild piece, intricately woven from the bones of beasts, rare southern jewels, and mana stones.
"Whoa. Hey, hey. What is this? It’s pretty… something else. Why’d they send it to me?"
"An accompanying letter of gratitude, written by the King of Mekerel himself, is enclosed."
The secretary handed him a parchment scroll. Reutern skimmed it in about three seconds.
"Ah, I get the gist."
They were thanking him for tearing Valkania a new one in the House of Nobles. The enemy of my enemy is my friend—that sort of scheme.
Well… Sorry to disappoint you, but you’re mistaken. I couldn’t care less if you primitive fools get stomped to death by Valkania or not.
"Whatever, for now." Reutern lifted the necklace from the box. There was no reason to refuse a freebie. "The craftsmanship is good. I like it very much."
He grinned, holding it up to a mirror and admiring it from different angles.
"Send an official letter to Mekerel."
"Yes, Your Grace. What should it say?"
"Nothing grand… Just tell them, 'There’s no need for thanks, but the gift is to my taste, so I’ll be using it.' Oh, and schedule something for me today. Anything."
Reutern II shot to his feet, fiddling with the necklace.
Time to go show this off.
*
Laura Espin’s death sentence was confirmed, and she was transferred to a maximum-security prison for felons in the western part of the Empire.
"Sir Knight. A letter from His Grace, Reutern."
I received Reutern’s letter in my office.
[Max! You free this evening~? Got something to show you. You might be super surprised when you see it~]
It was a single line.
I turned the paper over, checking front and back. It was really just one line.
Just how bored was he?
"…It’s nothing important." I set it down casually and looked across my desk again. I already had visitors.
"His Grace, Reutern… isn’t he an esteemed member of the Imperial Palace?"
"No. Well, yes, he is, but..." I trailed off, then reassured the two mages sitting before me with anxious expressions. "First of all, you have no need to worry."
They were Laura’s older and younger brothers.
"I’ll get straight to the point." I scrawled my signature on a document. It was an official decree signifying that the Espin family itself was innocent. "The anti-state terrorism and criminal acts committed by Laura Espin as a member of the revolutionary group have been confirmed to be strictly her own personal deviations."
Before throwing her lot in with the revolutionaries, Laura had severed all ties with her family. It was likely an attempt to prevent her choices from affecting them.
Of course, if I were just chasing results, it wouldn’t be a problem to frame the entire family as the masterminds behind the treason and arrest them all. As a Sentinel Knight, and more importantly, as me, I had that much power.
"Therefore, her crimes will have no bearing on the Espin family."
"Ah…" The two men let out a deep sigh. A sad relief washed over their faces. They offered no excuses, no protests.
"…Thank you, Sir Knight."
They expressed their gratitude to me—the man who had just sentenced their sister to death. They knew, I supposed, that it couldn't be helped.
"However, surveillance on your family will be heightened from now on. I must ask you to refrain from any careless words or rash actions that could arouse suspicion."
"Yes. We’ll keep that in mind."
The two brothers rose from their seats. Looking dazed, they staggered out of the Sentinel office.
"…"
Next, I picked up a file from my desk.
Hermann von Berg, new knight. It was a dossier detailing his family and past activities.
"Hmm."
Hermann. He was certainly a knight who had surpassed me before my regression. And yet, I had no memory of what became of him in the future. Whether he was executed as a war criminal, died during the war, or perhaps even defected.
As I was reading through Hermann’s file…
Trill—
My terminal rang. It was a transmission from Schatz, who was tailing Julian.
*
A remote town in the western part of the Empire.
Julian had arrived in Ashton’s hometown.
[Nostalgia Theater]
This small theater, tucked away on a street corner, was a place of unforgettable memories for Julian. A place where he, Ashton, and Laura used to come on every vacation, sitting side by side, watching plays, laughing, and talking.
Creeak—
Julian stepped inside. He slowly looked around the empty seats and the dust-covered stage.
Much of it was just as he remembered: the posters on the wall, the creaking floorboards. But the stage still bore the marks of recent use. Judging by the position of the lighting equipment and props, it seemed a play had been performed here recently.
Creak. Creeak.
Just as Julian was taking in the interior, stepping across the floorboards…
Thud.
A quiet footstep sounded from behind the stage.
"Welcome." Someone emerged from the shadows of the ceiling. "Sir Julian."
Julian looked at him with dry eyes. He recognized the man at once.
A man with round, gold-rimmed glasses, his hair slicked back immaculately without a single strand out of place. A first-class fugitive with a gaunt, pale impression.
A core member of the revolutionary group, Dominique.
Julian murmured softly. "…Not an illusion, then."
"No. As you can see, I am here in the flesh."
Dominique was once a promising mage from the Sentio Magic Tower. He had been Laura’s direct senior and the one who had led her to the revolutionary group.
Julian watched him, silent, but poised to draw his sword at any moment.
"Cough, cough. Ahem." Dominique dabbed at his mouth with a handkerchief and gestured toward Julian. "Sir Julian. What are your thoughts on the current state of the Empire?"
Julian’s eyes narrowed at the abrupt question.
"The reason Laura called you here was to show you the truth of the Empire." Dominique offered a weary smile. "The truth."
Julian’s face twitched as he repeated the word.
"Yes. You must have a faint idea, Sir Knight. Of the great war the madmen in the deepest parts of the Imperial Palace will soon unleash."
War.
A rumor already circulating openly within the Knights Order.
"That war has no just cause, no meaning. It is nothing but a slaughter to satisfy the Emperor’s personal greed. Too many people on the continent will die, and too many families will be torn apart. Furthermore." Power entered Dominique’s final words. "The Empire—the Emperor—is preparing for the annihilation of a race. The concentration camps being built across the Empire… cough."
Dominique coughed several more times. For a moment, Julian thought about the man’s remaining lifespan.
"…Hah. Those concentration camps are the proof. The Empire is planning things that must never be allowed to happen. The genocide of a race—"
"What do you want from me?" Julian cut him off.
Dominique gave a bitter smile. "…Yes. This is Laura’s final request." He approached with difficulty and held out a small envelope. "Please read it."
Julian opened the letter inside.
[Julian. I’m sorry. I won’t ask you to forgive me for betraying you—I who had no choice but to betray you. But we’re meaningless if we’re not together…]
It was Laura’s last will, written with a calm acceptance, as if she had already foreseen her own death.
[When I die, could you please bury me in a sunny spot, not far from where Ashton sleeps?]
Julian’s eyes took in her hidden sentences, pressed firmly into the paper here and there.
A pain like a cold blade gutting him from the inside surged from the depths of his chest.
"Julian Askar." Dominique called Julian’s name. "Will you not join us in our cause?"
An invitation to join them.
An offer to share their cause.
"…"
In that moment, as Julian merely stood there, sunken in silence—
Clap. Clap. Clap.
The slow sound of applause from somewhere in the theater cut through the silence.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
The entrance at the back of the auditorium. A figure, steeped in a thick killing intent, approached from the darkness.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
"As expected of Sir Julian, as expected."
The new knight, Hermann von Berg.
A smile played on his lips as he looked back and forth between Julian and Dominique.
"To think you found a rat-like traitor like this all on your own."
Hermann’s hand dropped, his fingers slowly closing around the hilt of the sword at his waist.
"As your junior, I can’t help but admire your outstanding investigative skills."
His wide-open eyes landed on the letter in Julian’s hand.