Chapter 100
Chapter 100
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 100
Chapter Title: The King's Defiance
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“!”
“Wh-what... did the marquis just say? His Excellency the marquis—no, the rebel—whatever. What the hell is he talking about?”
“The royal family’s in bed with those fanatics?”
The soldiers atop the walls began to murmur restlessly.
There were rumors floating around, sure, but only a tiny handful knew the truth.
To anyone watching, Marquis Midas had clearly launched a rebellion. Yet the troops were still rattled all the same.
It was just that shocking to hear the king had allied with the Holy Empire.
“Behold! This is proof of the royal family’s shameless schemes. First...”
“A truly unsightly display, Marquis.”
A voice cut in flawlessly, interrupting the marquis mid-sentence.
Its owner was old, but clad in armor so ornate it dazzled the eye.
“Th-the king?”
“It’s His Majesty! He’s come to the walls himself!”
“Hooray!”
The moment the soldiers realized King Montmart had appeared on the walls in person, their cheers erupted.
The king waited for the roar to die down before continuing.
“You’re the one who rebelled. You’re the one who sullied my heir, the crown prince, and my noble knight. And now you dare insult the royal family with your sly tongue? It’s laughable.”
“King Montmart! I’ve served you loyally across generations! I’ve paid higher taxes than any other territory, endured the sabotage of those you favored, and devoted myself solely to the crown! Yet you sent the crown prince and Sir Michael to kill me!”
“What nonsense is this? I merely ordered them to inspect Maginot Fortress. If anything, your sudden appearance there is the suspicious part.”
“Hmph! I rushed here the moment evidence surfaced that you’re purging me and colluding with the Holy Empire!”
With a flick!
Marquis Midas hurled a scroll and bellowed.
“No more words. If you want Sir Michael and Crown Prince Versailles spared—and to avoid needless bloodshed—surrender like the king of a nation you claim to be!”
His shout made soldiers on both sides gulp involuntarily.
In other words, if King Montmart didn’t yield, Michael and Versailles would be executed.
They were Philador’s future. Losing them would be...
But the king replied without a moment’s hesitation.
“Execute them.”
“...What did you say?”
“Is your ear so clogged with Nile oil that you can’t hear? Execute them. But...”
Montmart spoke calmly.
“The price for my knight’s blood will be paid in a bath of your family’s. The price for my son’s head? I’ll claim it by roasting and devouring your soldiers’ corpses. Go on, then. Do your worst.”
“...Ha! So the rumors are true—the cunning tyrant King Montmart truly has no blood, no tears. What a tragedy!”
Marquis Midas turned away, shouting one last time.
“Their crimes will be punished alongside yours in Bertie Square once we take you!”
King Montmart smirked in response.
“If you can.”
“Something’s off. He’s far too calm.”
After that brief exchange with the king, Marquis Midas returned, troubled by Montmart’s composure.
“Even a sly fox like Montmart knows Maginot’s fall means Bertie’s next in a flash. Sure, dragging this out favors them, but Bertie’s walls aren’t impregnable.”
His oddly serene reaction—knowing full well there were spies, yet showing no worry.
I’d seen that attitude just recently.
At Maginot Fortress. It was just like Versailles.
“He’s baiting you.”
“Hm?”
“Baiting you, Your Excellency. Telling you through his spies to open the gates if you can.”
“...Hmph.”
The marquis leaned back in his chair.
“I did mention the Holy Empire as you suggested. But is it really true? We get shortchanged in the alliance compared to others, sure... but cozying up to those northern zealots?”
“It’s the unvarnished truth, Your Excellency.”
Thanks to Versailles’s tip, I now understood how Philador had so perfectly backstabbed the alliance in the Empire’s war—like gears in a machine.
They hadn’t fought with spears or swords alone. Ivarella was already at war with the entire alliance. Even now, before ascending the throne.
“Contact your spy. Hit the palace as fast as possible. I don’t know who the Empire sent to make the king so bold... but we won’t lose.”
For him to show no concern even after seeing our forces overpower Michael meant the Empire had sent reinforcements at least his equal—maybe more.
‘Who could it be? Not one of the Three Dukes. This isn’t big enough for them to move.’
The Empire’s guardian deities, each holding a frontline across the continent.
They never left the Empire before war was declared.
Much less dispatch one alone to a foreign land like a strategic weapon.
I checked my condition, weighing our odds.
‘Potions and holy power patched me up fine. Miron’s good too. And with the marquis’s knights... it’s doable.’
Truth was, we had no choice. Lose here or stall, and House Midas withers.
Then it’s the same outcome. They vanish, and my family’s in a bind because of me.
So I had to pull it off.
No matter who the enemy was.
After the verbal clash between King Montmart and Marquis Midas, thick darkness settled over the capital Bertie.
But the walls burned bright as day, the guards glaring into the night without a thought of sleep.
No telling when Midas’s army might launch the siege.
As the capital’s troops watched the marquis’s every move and manned the walls, his house’s detachment slipped toward another target.
“Urk!”
Miron had a massive frame belying his age, but his stomach was still a kid’s—gagging nonstop.
I patted his back.
“You okay?”
“Th-this is n-nothing...?!”
Another chunk of foul brown sludge floated by.
“Bleurgh!”
He finally lost it, puking up whatever the marquis’s army had fed him for dinner.
‘...Can’t blame him.’
I’d fought nausea plenty myself.
This was Bertie’s underground sewer system.
‘Never guessed they’d bribed the sewer workers. No wonder the marquis was so confident.’
With all eyes on the walls, strike via the sewers.
A solid plan on paper, but most nobles wouldn’t stomach it.
One reason: filthy.
But House Midas’s merchant roots prized results over honor. His knights followed suit.
So what if it stank? To them, this muck-choked path was a glorious road to victory.
‘I like it.’
“Bleurgh!”
Though even they retched the whole way.
How long had we trudged?
Knight Mark, leading, halted.
A tiny X mark, easy to miss.
Confirming it, he tapped the ceiling in a strange rhythm.
Thump, thump, thump-thump-thump, thump-thump.
Rumble!
The ceiling parted, revealing a servant.
“We’ve been waiting.”
As planned, he bowed politely and offered towels.
“It won’t fully solve the problem, but...”
Godsend.
We wiped down quickly, thanked him, and looked up.
Up close, the palace inner keep was dizzyingly tall.
“Let’s go, young master.”
“Yeah.”
I followed Knight Mark’s lead.
After Maginot, the marquis had suggested I hang back.
No dice. Versailles dragged me in deep, and anyway...
‘The marquis’s knights can’t handle whatever the Empire sent alone.’
If this rebellion flops, I lose big too.
‘Guess this life’s one I can’t just coast through.’
But I could handle it. Compared to a fallen nation’s agony, this was nothing.
Thanks to the sewer spy, cleaned up and ready, we infiltrated the keep.
“Young master, let me recap the plan one last time. First, we...”
Knight Mark briefed me again upon entry.
In short:
1. Inner keep guards: handled by the marquis’s knights.
2. Escaped Royal Guard: Miron’s job.
3. Mystery Empire reinforcements: mine.
That was it.
“I hate burdening you like this, young master, but you’re the linchpin. We’re just clearing your path.”
Mark spoke sheepishly.
Snort.
‘Same old nobles and their knights.’
I chuckled inwardly but kept a straight face.
“Don’t worry, Sir Mark. Once this is over, I’ll collect from His Excellency—properly.”
Damn right. Properly.
House Midas couldn’t be this weak.
He’d marched on the crown without my help alone.
For him to bet it all on a foreign noble like me? Laughable.
Even this knight Mark before me rivaled Michael’s aura.
They had hidden cards. One or two, at least.
Yet dumping this on me now? Wanted to hide those aces.
And gauge my strength up close.
Bonus: if I died here, they’d renege on the deal scot-free.
‘No one you can trust in this world.’
Whatever.
I had scores to settle with the marquis too.
For now, I’d dance to his tune.
For now.
Splash!
“Gah!”
“E-enemies...!”
As I’d guessed, Montmart really was luring us—the inner keep fell like dominoes.
“Just as you said, young master. Their resistance is feeble.”
Mark shook blood from his blade.
“Can’t be helped from their side. Their top Royal Guard captains are captured, and aside from the fleeing First Royal Guard, they’ve got no real forces. Scattering would just mean getting picked off.”
I eyed Mark and added,
“Plus, facing elites like you, Sir Mark, they’d have to concentrate everything.”
“...You flatter me.”
Mark averted his gaze, brushing it off.
I didn’t press. Just showing I wasn’t clueless.
“Hm. No Royal Guard in sight means they’re all massed at the throne room. Let’s move.”
“...Right.”
Thud!
The last guard before the throne fell. Nothing stood in our way now.
Fitting Philador’s palace height, the throne room boasted soaring ceilings.
At its center, a young man welcomed us alone.
“Ah! Foolish lambs who knew this was a trap yet stepped forth!”
He clasped his hands dramatically, knelt, and gazed heavenward.
“This too must be the Lord’s will—commanding this faithful servant to spread the gospel to the lost through my lips! Oh Lord, how boundless Your mercy!”
Mark’s knight behind him couldn’t stomach it and charged.
But.
“Begone.”
A shield formed at the man’s fingertip, nullifying the strike.
Sword auras rained from the shadows.
Shredding the knight into minced meat.
Splatters!
Bathed in gore, the man smiled whitely.
“I’ve just guided one lost lamb to the Lord. Ah, another day of perfect devotion!”
Holy power packed into a single finger.
That lunatic mindset.
And that unforgettable face. Younger than in my memory, but unmistakable.
“Ah, forgive my tardy introduction.”
He traced the holy sign and spoke.
“I am but a humble servant, one of the Holy Empire’s Twelve Bishops.”
His innocent eyes and upturned lips radiated eerie menace.
“Liviah de Crusader.”