Chapter 179
Chapter 179
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 179
Chapter Title: 74. Brioll's Knights (1)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The empire's envoy entered the castle with his eyes wide open in haughty disdain, as if looking down on them all.
He carried something wrapped in red cloth and bound with golden thread—likely a letter from the emperor.
Yuri greeted the envoy alongside his close aides and the lord of Bezos Castle.
"I bear a message from His Imperial Majesty the Emperor."
"Go ahead."
Yuri wasn't the king, so he just lounged casually in his chair.
Knights armed with swords stood around, eyes fixed on the envoy.
For a formal reception of the emperor's letter, the setup was far too modest.
The envoy blinked narrowly, then promptly handed over the letter.
"Hold on."
Yuri didn't take it.
"You need to show some respect first."
His tone was gentle, like coaxing a child. His voice was soft and measured, leaving the envoy momentarily frozen, unable to process the words.
As the envoy stood still, Yuri spoke again.
"Not gonna do it?"
It wasn't a scolding or an attempt at false dignity. It was like reminding someone to return a forgotten item, with an expectant glance that said, get on with it.
The envoy fell silent for a moment before replying.
"The empire is now at war with Brioll."
"And?"
"It means we no longer respect Brioll's royal authority."
"Hmm..."
Yuri nodded.
"I get your courage."
"Delivering this letter ends my duty."
"You know you'll die if you don't, right?"
The envoy blinked.
He'd clearly never been treated like this before. Envoys from the empire were always handled with kid gloves—especially one bearing the emperor's personal letter. Even a king would tread carefully.
But Yuri didn't care.
He already knew just how rabidly mad the empire could get.
"War's already on, like you said?"
The empire knew no compromise.
The more you yielded, the more they demanded, until the entire continent was engulfed in flames—that was the empire.
There was no gain in coddling their envoy.
No, it would only leave room for doubt among his own men, dulling their focus in battle.
Just like when he'd beheaded that orc on the plains to rally the allied forces, Yuri was prepared to kill this envoy if needed.
Yuri rose from his seat.
"No hard feelings. You do your job, I do mine."
He picked up Guilty, which he'd leaned against the side.
"Sorry about this, so I'll make it quick. Bow or die."
As Yuri tapped the sword's hilt, the envoy's eyes flickered faintly.
There was no bluff in Yuri's demeanor.
This was pure, rational judgment—he meant to cut him down.
"Th..."
The envoy's eyes darted around.
Normally, there'd be retainers to intervene. The empire's prestige demanded it.
But not one of Brioll's knights spoke up for Yuri. If anything, they lifted their chins, staring down as if urging him to submit already.
"B-Brioll is supposed to be a land of knights, but this is outrageous."
He'd tried to sound calm, but his words came out stuttered.
Yuri chuckled.
"Land of knights? Just means we've got a bunch of guys good with swords. Big deal. Right?"
Laughter erupted around the room.
They looked like a gang of thugs.
The envoy closed his eyes, then opened them.
He hadn't come with any real solemnity. His plan had been to deliver the letter and swagger out arrogantly, as always.
But common sense didn't apply here.
"Jared."
"Yes, sir."
"Looks like you need some encouragement. Bring him."
"Understood."
Jared strode toward the envoy and reached out without a hint of hesitation, grabbing him like some street punk.
The envoy was dragged forward by the scruff of his neck.
The envoy sputtered.
"W-Wait!"
"Yeah?"
Everyone in the room froze, eyes on the envoy.
He hesitated briefly, then slowly bowed his head.
"As envoy of the empire, I offer my respects to Prince Yuri of Brioll."
He lowered his head fully.
It wasn't much effort.
"Aw, too bad."
Yuri said, pulling coins from his pocket and tossing them down.
Gold coins changed hands among Brioll's knights.
The envoy realized they'd been betting on his reaction.
"H-How dare you..."
His face flushed with humiliation.
Yuri ignored it.
"Take that and go."
"Such rudeness from a petty kingdom's prince, to an envoy of the empire no less..."
The atmosphere shifted instantly.
All smiles vanished as they turned to the envoy.
Under the collective gaze of every knight in the room, the envoy couldn't bear the pressure and held his breath.
Yuri stood.
"One bow doesn't make up for the rudeness."
He drew Guilty.
The envoy stepped back.
"What's wrong? Death's over in a flash. No biggie."
This came from experience. Yuri still remembered the instant Rolang's blade had taken his head in his past life.
A mere blink.
"Now, then..."
"I... I got carried away."
The envoy bowed his head immediately. He valued his life more than expected.
"I'll take my leave."
"Hmph..."
Yuri sheathed his sword.
"Fine. You're dismissed. Out."
"Yes. Thank you."
The envoy fled the room without looking back.
The knights burst into laughter.
"That guy's probably pissed himself."
"No wonder he was waddling out."
They sounded like rowdy barflies.
But they were all titled nobles.
Those who'd rolled through battlefields tended to have rough edges.
They clearly approved of Yuri's handling.
"Well done, Third Prince. Arrogant pricks like that need to be put in their place."
"We're spilling blood anyway—no need to tiptoe."
"A chip off the king's block."
Rolang and Jared looked unsure if this was okay, but the rest showered Yuri with praise.
"Alright, then..."
Yuri tugged the letter's cord.
"Let's see what the emperor has to say."
He unwrapped the cloth and read the contents.
But there was really nothing to it.
Yuri, reading it, let out a hollow laugh.
"That's it?"
"What is it?"
Yuri unfolded it for all to see.
Those who looked wore subtle expressions.
"Hmm..."
The message was short.
Surrender.
That was all.
But the room's unease wasn't from the words themselves.
"The emperor..."
One knight nearby spoke up.
"Must be in a lot of pain."
Wrapping it in red cloth and sealing with gold thread meant it was personally penned by the emperor.
Yet the handwriting was bizarre.
Some characters sprawled weakly like a child's scrawl, while others were crushed as if gripped too hard and slashed in fury.
The mood shifted with every letter, leaving an unsettling chill in the viewer.
A madman's script, plain and simple.
Yuri peered into the letter.
His eyes delved into the realm of Heart-Soul Severing.
Traces of dark magic loomed visibly, thick and murky. Yuri surmised the emperor was fully consumed by it.
Emperor Ivar.
In this life, the man he'd met hadn't seemed so bad.
He'd even cracked silly jokes with a down-to-earth air.
But that Ivar was gone.
Yuri silently offered his regrets, then folded the letter away. Staring longer made his heart uneasy.
"He won't last much longer."
He muttered.
The next emperor would be Yugen, a prime suspect in black magic atrocities.
"Something felt off."
A knight behind him spoke.
He was Einzer Usteam, lord of Matehorn—a hefty man with a bit of a gut, but experienced and from one of Brioll's premier families.
"Met the emperor once. Seemed decent enough back then. When he started acting crazy, I figured he'd eaten something bad."
"That so."
"Yeah. They say poison drove him mad—looks like it's true."
"Can't be helped."
Yuri stood.
"Some things just happen."
"True enough."
"Alright, let's prepare."
Yuri's tone was upbeat.
"We roughed up their envoy, so expect retaliation. They might launch straight into war. Some of you here might not make it to tomorrow. Got your wills notarized?"
Laughter filled the room.
Jared, standing nearby, shook his head.
Their gallows humor was hard to follow.
Yuri tossing it out so smoothly, the old knights lapping it up—it was all weird.
Einzer played along.
"Nah, Your Highness. No need for wills."
"Close with your kids, huh?"
"Not at all. Hate 'em."
"Then why no will?"
"So when I kick it, they fight over the inheritance, the loser shows up early to visit my grave. That's a real filial son, right?"
"You're a wise father after all."
"Hahaha!"
Laughter bloomed again.
For the eve of war, the mood was buoyant.
The quiet Jared wanted in, so he spoke up.
"At least tomorrow, we can eat more."
All eyes turned to him.
One knight asked.
"Why's that?"
Jared grinned and quipped.
"Fewer mouths to feed. Can't shove food in dead men's mouths, right? Hahaha!"
Jared laughed alone.
His chuckles faded slowly.
"Ha... ha..."
The chill was palpable.
The knights' cold stares stabbed like daggers into his chest.
"So, you think we're dying tomorrow?"
"N-No, I..."
"If half of us die, you'll be chowing down double portions all chipper. That it?"
"No, just a j-joke..."
"Sounds like you're just waiting for us to drop."
"No, that's not..."
Jared looked miserable.
"Sorry if I offended..."
Suddenly, the room exploded in laughter.
"Hahahaha!"
"Double portions? This guy's got guts!"
"I'll yield my special rations when I go. Huhaha!"
"Young buck's got spirit. Dead or alive, booze is double for everyone."
One knight slapped Jared's back hard, roaring with laughter.
"Thought you were a goody-goody—turns out you're alright!"
Another round of ribbing.
Jared smiled in relief, laughing awkwardly along.
These were tough people to hang with.
How did the young third prince fit in so well? A sidelong glance showed Yuri quietly chuckling, winking at him.
Yuri stood.
"Enough real talk—time for jokes. Everyone, stay safe tomorrow. Not just you here, but all our forces. War might drag on. Who knows, we might end up planting Brioll's flag in the imperial palace and toasting. Let's all make it back alive for that."
"Yes, sir!"
Morale soared at Yuri's words.
The room buzzed with fervor.
But one man leaned against the wall, lost in thought.
"..."
It was Rolang.
The Flandre family trait made such rowdiness feel alien, and he was still fretting over Cedric.
To an outsider, it might seem excessive.
If anyone else acted like this, Rolang would've told them to chill.
But he couldn't shake the inexplicable anxiety.
"Rian's lucky. Got such a handsome son. Me? Not sure I'll even see my grandkids."
A knight approached, striking up conversation. He was friends with Rolang's father, Rian Flandre.
Rolang smiled.
"Thank you, sir."
"Rian holding up?"
"Yes. Nothing serious."
"Good. Glad to hear it. Rolang—or Sir Rolang. You take care too."
"Yes. I will. Feel free to call me Rolang."
"Alright, Rolang. Saw you often as a kid."
"Vaguely remember."
As he spoke, Rolang glanced out the window.
A single bird soared by.