Chapter 75
Chapter 75
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 75
Chapter Title: The Recommendation
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"Indeed. So it came to pass after all..."
A middle-aged man with long hair and a beard grimaced in regret.
The leader of the radical faction, Bishop Milliman.
He swallowed a groan upon hearing the report of Druma and Ryburn's deaths.
"They perished valiantly in battle against a demonic beast known as the thunder wolf dragon, which bears dragon blood."
Oscar's report.
A faint glint of sharpness flickered in Bishop Milliman's narrow eyes as he listened.
"Kalarias survived, while two heresy inquisitor captains fell... Am I overthinking this?"
Could this truly be dismissed as mere coincidence?
Milliman fell deep into thought.
"Third Squad Captain, this is Captain Oscar's report. There's no room for doubt. One of his loyal spirits—the sword that forms the scabbard—delivered this document."
Oscar's loyal spirit was a sword crafted into a scabbard.
When he dies, the sword dies with him.
Even if he lives, no one else can wield the loyal spirit casually.
Such as with Rosario's scabbard.
Thus, it was certain that Oscar had sent the report.
"There's also the possibility that Captain Oscar has defected."
"No way. Over some wastrel like Kalarias?"
"What if he possesses a holy relic?"
And if that relic could grant abilities not just to him, but to his subordinates as well?
"If it grants superior swordsmanship or physical prowess, are you certain you wouldn't succumb to such temptation?"
"Even then, I would never waver in my convictions!"
The young paladin declared boldly, but Milliman did not believe him.
Could he speak so confidently even with death looming?
With a blade pressing against his throat, skin slowly parting, life's essence spilling out in crimson streams?
Milliman shook his head.
The fire of youth is blind.
Without experiencing humanity's survival instincts and the corruption they breed, one can never comprehend the fragility of the human heart before death.
"Summon the Heresy Inquisitor Captain for me."
"He's already here."
The Heresy Inquisitor Captain appeared through the open door.
Bishop Milliman regarded the standing paladin.
"Did you call for me?"
"No."
"I figured you'd call me right on cue! So I came right away."
"......Enough with the 'right on cue' already."
"Sorry. It's just my catchphrase, right on cue."
The man prattled on with his tic, a jester-like fellow. The straight scar across his nose made him striking—the Heresy Inquisitor Captain, Jenos von Gradas.
"Anyway, Jenos, take a look at this."
"This is..."
Jenos tilted his head as he took the letter from Bishop Milliman by its edge.
"A captain-level recommendation letter. Isn't there that guy everyone's buzzing about?"
Not just any inquisitor recommendation.
A captain-level one, no less.
"Kalarias von Jervan? Is this the wastrel Kalarias I know? The one who seemed perfect for being interrogated rather than doing the interrogating?"
He'd suited the role of the interrogated more than the inquisitor.
Rumors had swirled among the executives about him pilfering holy relics or whatnot. Why a recommendation now?
"That's why I called you."
"I came on my own, though?"
"......Why did you come here exactly?"
"My instincts led me right here on cue. I was thinking of grabbing a bite and napping somewhere, but I sniffed out something fun from the bishop's quarters."
Milliman sighed as Jenos wriggled his nose.
"......Anyway, you're going."
"I don't see how my going changes anything. More like right on—"
"Shut up with that damn 'right on cue'!"
"Hmm, you're quite the hothead, Bishop. No wonder you're the radical faction leader. Hahaha!! Not funny? I thought it was a decent joke, but no one's laughing, so I'll laugh alone. Hahahahaha! I'm just too cheerful!"
Whoosh!
Bishop Milliman pressed his temples as the Heresy Inquisitor Captain, Jenos, vanished in an instant.
"Are you sure about this?"
"He may seem that way, but his skills are the real deal. He didn't snag the captain position for nothing. If he'd had even a shred of ambition, he wouldn't be stuck as captain."
Higher still.
He was a man evaluated as having the qualities to become a Luts Paladin—a rank reached solely through swordsmanship.
"Despite appearances, he bears a bloodline touched by the divine."
"Ah, from the east..."
Jervan in the north.
Luidren in the south meant Gradas in the east.
"One of the four great noble houses under the esteemed Karpe. The Gradas bloodline won't err. This time, we'll get a clear verdict..."
On whether that man possesses a holy relic or not.
"It's the archbishop's strict command as well. No mistakes allowed."
And.
"He's had bad blood with Kalarias since childhood."
North and east.
Longstanding enemies.
* * *
The capital of Karpe Kingdom.
A famous tavern even in Caladi.
[Lantern Before the Wind]
In this establishment of long tradition and history, an unusual side dish circulated amid the drinks.
"What? That wastrel?"
A knight set down his beer mug and scowled as he asked back.
"Haven't you heard? Call him a wastrel now, and you might lose your head."
"No way."
That wastrel? No chance.
"I'm not joking! Most of the north has already fallen to the Judge, they say."
"The Judge? What's that?"
"His sword has this miraculous ability to discern lies. So even beheaded, he doesn't die."
Judge Kalarias.
A fresh new moniker beginning to circulate in rumors.
"What the hell? Is that even a sword? You die when your head's cut off!"
"That's why it's insane! They say he walks around holding his severed head, burning all the corrupt lords' wealth to ash!"
Beheaded yet undead—what grotesque affair was this?
And parading it about to incinerate a lord's riches right before their eyes!
"Argh, what a waste! If he was gonna burn it, give some to me!"
Just thinking about it hurt.
And chilled the spine.
"Anyway, no more wastrel talk. Get caught, and you're dog meat! Dog meat!"
In one corner of the tavern.
A group listened to the knights' boisterous tales.
"Judge, sir. Mind buying me a beer?"
"Order it yourself, Helena."
It was Kallias and his party.
"You made a fortune! Can't a charming lady like me get a single beer from a stingy man?"
Having sorted some thunder wolf dragon byproducts and received an advance, Kallias's pockets were flush.
Even excluding the ten gold invested in Helena, he had sixty thousand gold.
Easily surpassing a major territory's annual tax.
"But the rumors are twisting weirdly. We didn't burn any wealth."
The spoils from raiding corrupt nobles' territories exceeded thirty thousand in value. Even leaving half for the domain folk yielded plenty of gold.
The thriftily gathered coins would fund the kingdom's reconstruction.
‘Using it for me is the same as using it for the kingdom.’
So thought Kallias.
"Sir, beer for you?"
"No thanks. Order more meat for Vivi. She's eating like a champ."
Kallias sliced meat with fork and knife, aristocratic even in eating—a sight that warmed Helena just to watch.
In any case, he quite liked this tavern's meat; the piled plates already exceeded ten.
"Sir, aren't you favoring Vivi too much lately? I'm more useful than her, you know."
"Nonsense."
If weighing Brans and Vivi's utility, obviously the latter.
Brans handled replaceable odd jobs, so priority went to Vivi.
Beyond that, Vivi was adorably cute, while Brans... not so much.
If he were a woman, maybe.
Trailing battlefields had bulked him with rugged muscle—hardly a pleasing sight.
‘Come to think of it, why do I even keep this guy around?’
Kallias pondered anew.
His musing on Brans's value was interrupted.
"That's a demonic beast, huh."
Someone had spoken up.
"?"
A stranger.
Gold hair slicked back, prominent cheekbones, and slit-like eyes—someone best avoided.
As Kallias stared silently, the man smirked and extended a hand.
"Sell it. I'll pay properly."
So that's what he meant.
"Sell Vivi?"
"Vivi? Pfft, doesn't suit it. Charles fits better. Sell Charles to me."
Naming it as if already his. Absurd, but they'd just arrived in the capital.
No desire for needless commotion, so he replied calmly.
"Scram."
He waved dismissively like shooing a fly.
"What? Do you not know who I am?"
An incredulous expression.
As if not being recognized was novel and amusing.
Come to think of it, bandit-like face but fine fabric.
Helena shrugged unknowing when asked.
"Ha! You don't know me in Caladi? Hey! You lot over there! Who am I?!"
"Lord Violle!"
One of the watchful knights replied deferentially.
"Violle?"
-Count Altemion's eldest son.
Oscar murmured through his insect, sipping beer quietly.
Count Altemion's eldest son.
He had backing.
Son of one of the kingdom's few counts.
Moreover, Count Altemion.
Intriguing.
"Now you know? Hand over Charles. My eye, Violle's eye, confirms it's no ordinary wolf. I'll pay handsomely."
Violle tossed a gold pouch from his breast onto the table.
Clinking and size suggested at most a dozen gold coins.
Yet he brimmed with confidence.
"This should suffice. Not just any gold—empire gold coins. More than enough."
Empire gold coins?
"Ooh, empire gold! Rare sight in the kingdom."
Pristine, intricately stamped, hard to counterfeit.
Worth ten times kingdom gold.
"I see."
Kallias slapped away Helena's excited hand toying with a coin, then pocketed the empire gold.
Sad that kingdom nobles carried empire gold, but what could one do?
Reality whispered the empire would swallow the kingdom in mere years.
Indeed, slightly heavier than common gold—higher purity.
Now mine.
"Good, you catch on quick. I'll raise this one well."
"Vivi, bite."
-Growl!
"You little shit!!"
As enraged Violle swung at Vivi, she instinctively unleashed a strong current.
Bigger now, she spat thunderbolts readily. Spiderweb-thin, but still.
"Arrrgh!"
Enough jolt to discipline a spoiled noble.
White steam rose from Violle's head where Vivi's thunder struck. Shaking violently, it stung fiercely.
"Guards! Anyone! Why is no one...!!"
Eyes bloodshot from pain, Violle bellowed.
His shout brought knights rising from various tables like they'd waited.
A chance to incur debt from Count Altemion's heir.
But they'd picked the wrong foe.
Shunk.
I drew my sword reverse-grip and plunged it into the floor before them.
Thud-!
Intangible pressure blanketed the area instantly. None could move.
‘Can't move...!’
‘Such presence......’
‘A high paladin!’
Not just Violle's escort knights—all in the tavern were rooted like feet glued to the ground.
"What have you done to my knights, you bastard."
"No need to answer a fool who quails at a mere beast pup."
"You bastard!!"
Kallias rose, looming over Violle.
Their gazes met—merciless ash-gray pupils. Violle shuddered with indescribable chills.
"I owe Count Altemion a debt. Tell him it's repaid today."
A spirit stone for his son's life—cheap bargain.
As Kallias exited the tavern, Violle's bloodshot glare chased him.
Ignoring it, Kallias walked on; Brans hurried after.
"Will this be alright?"
"If it stirs trouble, all the better."
Count Altemion surely hoarded tasty spoils.
"That one's gotta go anyway."
No gain in sparing such vermin.