Not Going Down Quietly
Do you think I'll just take it lying down? Not a chance.
The Imperial 10 Strongest. The name said it all: the ten strongest individuals the Empire could claim as its own.
The Empire was a place where outstanding knights and mages gathered in throngs so thick they formed living mountains of talent. Overwhelming human resources were the Empire's proudest, most powerful weapon. And from among those elites, the absolute cream of the crop—the transcendent masters who stood above the rest—were the Imperial 10 Strongest.
They slaughtered packs of monsters single-handedly, fought knight orders to a standstill, and faced entire mage battalions alone. With nothing but their own power, they made the impossible routine. That was why the glorious title of the continent's ten strongest had been bestowed upon them.
“….”
Yet today, Logan—one of those very Imperial 10 Strongest—sat in an extremely meek and polite posture, both hands neatly folded in front of him. He was listening intently to the words of Baron Dagon John Nassen, who was currently working out with four dumbbells at once.
All the while, Logan kept imagining what would happen if even one of those weights came flying at his face.
“I never expected you to arrive so quickly. And two of the Ten Strongest, no less.”
An ogre's skull would burst like a ripe melon in that grip. There was no way pure human blood ran through their veins. Something else had to be mixed in. That was the only explanation that made any sense of what he was witnessing.
“I must apologize for the sudden visit, Baron Dagon John Nassen.”
Yulika was the sort who dropped honorifics for everyone except the Emperor, the Crown Prince, and the Grand Dukes. She even spoke casually to Logan, who was more than twenty years her senior. Yet here she was, addressing a mere baron with formal speech.
Logan felt not the slightest curiosity about that choice. Honestly, right now he just wanted to drop to his knees and sit properly.
“Do you know why you've come?”
“More or less.”
Baron Dagon set the dumbbells down and immediately lay back on the bench-press station. He took one steady breath, gripped the bar, and began pressing the barbell. Guests or no guests, muscle loss was not permitted. That was the John Nassen will.
The plates loaded on either end were so heavy the bar itself was bending. Even Throd—reputed the strongest of the Ten Strongest—had never been seen lifting anything like that. And considering age, Throd was at least twenty years younger no matter how you sliced it.
If the John Nassen family had ever wanted the title of the Ten Strongest, every single seat would have been filled by people from this territory.
Logan swallowed dryly at the thought.
“Some unfamiliar faces showed up not long ago,” the baron continued, still pressing the massive weight without a single ragged breath. Logan desperately hoped the man was only pretending to be fine because guests were present. The alternative—that this truly wasn't hard for him—was far more terrifying.
“They claimed they had come from far to the west. Our John Nassen custom is to welcome and properly host any guest who enters our land at least once, so I granted them entry.”
“And those 'guests' turned out to be from the Western Kingdom Alliance, I take it.”
“So they said. They claimed they had traveled all this way because they had a proposal.”
The baron's workout showed no sign of ending. Yulika seemed unfazed—she had known the rough outline already—but Logan, visiting John Nassen territory for the first time, was shrinking into himself with every second.
“Mealtime, my lord.”
“Is that so. Have the two of you eaten?”
“No, we have not.”
“Then join us.”
“It would be rude to refuse a meal invitation, wouldn't it?”
Dagon's answering look said, You already know the answer, so why ask? To Yulika and Logan, however, the gaze translated differently: Refuse to eat with us and you'll be dining on memorial-service rice.
“L-Let's go, Princess. A meal invitation—how exciting!”
Yulika let out a long sigh at Logan's forced enthusiasm. For the record, she had been academy classmates with the eldest son, Lear John Nassen. She knew the John Nassen palate all too well.
“Please, eat your fill.”
Somehow Baroness Maria had already heard the news and come downstairs, smiling gently. Logan laughed heartily while chewing unsalted chicken breast that refused to yield even to his molars.
They eat this every day? My teeth aren't even making a dent. Am I going to choke to death? Is this some new assassination method?
Every possible dark thought cycled through his head during the meal.
“I saw your son at the academy,” Yulika said once they had finished.
“Kyle, you mean.”
Even with his son brought up, there was no “Is he well?” or “Is he injured?” Only an absolute certainty that the boy was handling himself just fine.
“Yes. He was remarkably strong. So strong, in fact, that I am considering making him my husband.”
Pffft—!
Logan, who had finally managed to snag a glass of water after carefully watching everyone's mood, immediately returned the entire mouthful into the cup.
What is she even saying? Princess, why did we come here in the first place?
“Interesting. Do you truly believe it will go as you wish?”
The unspoken meaning was clear: Do you really think the likes of you can claim a man of John Nassen?
“Let us move to the main subject.”
Fortunately the princess had not forgotten their purpose.
“Will you accept the West's proposal? Will you take the Alliance's side?”
“….”
Baron Dagon did not answer at once. He simply drained the glass of water set before him.
“Baron John Nassen.”
Unlike the thoroughly tense Logan, Yulika pressed forward more aggressively. Answer us. What decision has John Nassen reached? Surely you are not truly about to turn against the Empire and plunge us into endless war again?
She was a little nervous herself, but she waited without showing it.
How much time passed after that, none of them could say.
“You two.”
At last Baron Dagon opened his mouth. A smile that was terrifying simply to look upon curved his lips.
“What answer do you think we gave them?”
Not long before the two members of the Imperial 10 Strongest set foot in John Nassen territory, other guests had already arrived.
John Nassen custom—and their unwritten law—required that any guest, whoever they might be, be hosted at least once. Thus the visitors were brought all the way to the baron's castle, where they finally revealed their identities.
“It is an honor to meet you, Baron Dagon John Nassen.”
“We come from the Alliance.”
Baron Dagon, along with Lear and Leah standing beside him, all tilted their heads in identical confusion. They had never heard of any “Alliance.” Of course they hadn't. The western kingdoms had only recently banded together, and John Nassen territory cared nothing for such distant news.
“There remain kingdoms in the west that the Empire's hand has yet to reach. To resist the Empire's final lust for conquest, we have joined forces and formed a Kingdom Alliance.”
The Alliance envoys kept their heads bowed as they spoke. Because of that, they missed the brief smile that flickered across the John Nassen faces at the words “resist and fight,” and the way those same faces twisted the moment the phrase “joined forces” followed.
“The Empire's ambition knows no end. Sooner or later that ambition will stain even this land—John Nassen territory. They are surely sharpening the blade of retribution for you already.”
“We humbly beg you to aid the Alliance and stand against the Empire. As the strong, protect the weak and once more raise the banner of justice across the continent.”
The envoys first offered a convenient pretext for turning against the Empire—conquest, protection of the weak, continental justice. To ordinary nobles who lived and died by such justifications, the words alone would have swelled the chest with grandeur.
“….”
“….”
Yet neither Baron Dagon John Nassen, nor Lear John Nassen, nor Leah John Nassen, nor anyone else present offered any real response. Their eyes all said the same thing: What the hell are these bastards babbling about?
The Alliance envoys clicked their tongues inwardly, as if they had expected exactly this. Battle-mad dogs. Barbarians who tore into people like wild curs. That was how the Alliance currently viewed John Nassen.
The Empire that had steamrolled kingdom after kingdom had supposedly been stalled by these people for years. They truly did love a good fight—and nothing else, apparently, given how silent they remained even after being handed both pretext and great cause.
Time to switch to the next method of persuasion.
They had never actually expected lofty ideals to work. What would battle-obsessed monsters care for pretty words? When dealing with monsters, you threw them a slab of raw, bloody meat.
“The Alliance will fight the Empire. We will wage war once more.”
“War, you say.”
“And in that war, we hope John Nassen will also take the field. A decisive battle against the Empire. An all-out war with everything on the line. A conflict of truly colossal scale is certain to erupt.”
Baron Dagon stroked his chin with a thoughtful “Hmm.” Talk of war, battle, and fighting had clearly caught his interest. Lear and Leah wore the same look of deep consideration.
Seeing that reaction, the envoys crowed inwardly, We've got them! These people possessed monstrous physiques yet were said to be simple-minded. No matter how carefully they pretended to ponder, a little more prodding would tip them over. What difference could further thought make to creatures who lived only for combat?
The envoys decided it was time to drive the final nail. These battle-race warriors had to be brought onto the anti-Imperial front.
“There is nothing difficult about it! The people of John Nassen need not take orders from the Alliance. Simply fight in whatever manner you prefer here. Once the Alliance declares war and draws the Empire's eyes and ears, you can seize the opening to launch a surprise attack on the Empire and—”
Crunch.
A sudden, merciless sound of metal being crushed filled their ears. They lifted their heads in confusion—and froze.
“What did you just say.”
The iron cup in Baron Dagon John Nassen's hand had been crumpled like paper. The shapeless lump of metal slipped from his fingers and clattered across the floor.
“B-Baron John Nassen?”
“You want us—John Nassen—to do what? A sneak attack? Strike from behind at people who aren't even ready to fight? At children?!”
That was the end. Negotiations were over.