Chapter 152
Chapter 152
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 152
Chapter Title: The Emperor's Reply
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His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor of the Empire, who labors tirelessly day and night for the peace of the continent, I hope this finds you in good health… (omitted)… The matter is as follows: while punishing the wicked monsters of the Dragon Mountains for the sake of the continent, we encountered noble talents of the Empire.
We attempted to rescue them from peril, but alas, it was already too late… (omitted)… Furthermore, we formally protest the enticement of an important figure from within our family.
Separately from that, after treating Archbishop Luna—who barely survived the conspiracy of the Third Imperial Princess—we intend to send her to the Empire come spring upon her recovery. Thus, we earnestly request that you grant us passage.
"Hooh…"
Emperor Pedro von Hekaron III gazed at the letter from the Carviot Count family, a spark of interest igniting in his previously listless eyes.
The eternal aspiration of the Empire: unification of the continent. The Carviot family had always been a major obstacle in achieving that grand dream.
Unlike his foolish sons, Ivarella had recognized this early on and, from the days when they were still mere children, had invested efforts into planting spies within the Shield Family.
'Twenty years, or maybe thirty. Something like that.'
Yet this protest letter signaled that Ivarella's long-standing efforts had utterly collapsed.
'And that's not all. If the contents of this protest are to be believed…'
The princes would never let it slide.
During the lull when Ivarella had paused due to the Philador Kingdom rebellion, he had assumed she was focusing on internal consolidation—only for her to overreach with that absurd Wyvern Knights and self-destruct.
But the archbishop who had followed the eldest prince was alive. And the survivor was claiming that it was all Ivarella's scheme.
Whether it was true or merely slander forced by the Shield Family didn't matter.
What mattered was that the accusation had been formally voiced by the archbishop herself.
Planning a rebellion in the Philador Kingdom and planting spies in the Shield Family were issues of entirely different magnitudes.
The former could be brushed off as wartime necessities—drawing condemnation here and there, but ultimately a ploy against an enemy nation that no one in the Empire could finger-point at Ivarella for over the long term.
But involvement in the deaths of half the Four Margrave pillars of the Empire's vanguard and three of the Twelve Archbishops, with one captured—that was a grave crime severe enough to exterminate even a high noble's clan, let alone ordinary folk.
'Both incidents target Ivarella directly. Even for someone as unruly as her in the narrow confines of the palace, this will restrict her movements for the time being… Could it be deliberate?'
"Who drafted this protest letter?"
"Jerome von Carviot, the third son of the Carviot Count family!"
The holy knight, who had stood rigidly at attention while the emperor read, bowed his head deeper and shouted in response.
"Jerome. Jerome, eh…"
It was a familiar name. Pressing a hand to his temple as he murmured it, the emperor soon recalled.
The pest of the Shield Family, whose name echoed across the continent. The son of a fierce tiger named Bacchus.
'That was the case just a few years ago.'
But things were different now.
The name known for saving the kingdom from great famine, thwarting Ivarella's elven princess abduction plot, and halting the Philador Kingdom rebellion.
No one on this continent dared call Jerome a pest anymore.
Coincidence? Curiously, many of the events that elevated Jerome's reputation were directly tied to Ivarella.
This incident alone would tarnish her honor immensely.
'As if he can't allow Ivarella's position to rise.'
Emperor Pedro found himself growing intensely curious about the Jerome who penned this protest.
"Send a reply to the Carviot Count family. Grant permission. But make it clear that the one who wrote this letter must come in person."
"A reply has come from the Empire."
Dwayne, now so gaunt that no trace remained of the fat that once spilled from his clothes, spoke up.
"What does it say?"
"They say they're going to kill you, young master Jerome? For daring to speak so rudely to the most noble emperor on the continent."
"Don't bullshit me. Tell me exactly."
What nonsense is this?
Dwayne pouted and grumbled.
"Tch, no fun. As expected, they invite you in spring. You personally, young master Jerome."
"As expected, huh."
Luna, who had been listening to our exchange from the side, asked with eyes full of wonder.
"Young master Jerome. Did you predict that Emperor Pedro himself would summon you personally?"
Over the past few days, watching Jerome draft the declaration to send to the Empire with Dwayne, Luna had been inwardly curious.
Jerome, who vowed to rescue her mother.
But her mother was bound in the Golden Lion Temple in Vatican, the Empire's capital.
From distant Banten, even riding nonstop would take over three months. How exactly did he plan to save her from this far-off land?
"Granting entry permission is secondary. If they'd sent an envoy to escort me, it would've been a total dead end. How did you predict this?"
"Eh, nothing special. Considering the current emperor's temperament, it was predictable enough."
The reigning emperor, Pedro von Hekaron III, was an extreme conservative who despised change.
More interested in solidifying his imperial authority than expanding the vast Empire further.
'Even with the so-called strongest of all time, the Three Dukes, he has no intent to wage war. That says it all.'
Thus, when Ivarella—born with the qualities of a conqueror—launched her coup, many grew frustrated with Pedro's defensive rule and flocked to her side.
By now, those nauseated by the emperor's reign should have pledged themselves to the princes and Ivarella.
Among them, even if her faction was small, it was natural he'd be curious about the one who had thwarted Ivarella multiple times—the object of his closest scrutiny.
'And with this chance to narrow Ivarella's influence, he can secure his regime longer.'
To me, who knew Pedro's future path, it wasn't hard to foresee. But to Luna, it was simply astonishing.
"…Emperor Pedro hasn't left Vatican even once since ascending the throne, and you factored in his temperament?"
To Luna, the young master before her seemed like a monster.
Not yet of legal age, yet he'd crushed Marquis Crank, the beast of the central front; rooted out spies the Empire had painstakingly planted for decades.
And now, he was even reading the mind of an emperor he'd never met to devise plans.
No telling how many moves ahead he saw.
'If it's him, he might really thwart the Third Imperial Princess's ambitions.'
As Luna admired Jerome—unaware of his circumstances—the door opened again behind Dwayne.
Bang!
"What are you doing here again?"
"You rotten punk. Listen to how you talk."
It was Saladin who burst in. Covered head to toe in grease, probably from repairing Mimi and Nene after their wyvern hunt battering.
"Your brother and sister finished their trials—there's a reaction at the gate. They want you at Lake Dosmary now."
"What? Who?"
"Your mother."
…She sent him for this?
"She could've sent a servant. Why you?"
"…Eh, just. Nothing better to do, got bored, thought I'd get some air. Got a problem?"
Looking at Saladin's needless grumbling, I could tell.
Ah, this guy.
"You were worried, weren't you?"
"W-what are you saying, man! Just bored, I tell you!"
Saladin's face flushed red with embarrassment as he said it.
"Anyway, message delivered. I'm out. Oh, and I took another chunk of mithril—FYI!"
Slam!
Evidently embarrassed, Saladin slammed the door and fled.
Kid's embarrassed, huh.
During Darkan's punishment this time, it must've weighed on him that he knew nothing.
It was family business; meddling blindly could've turned political. Not knowing was only natural. Good kid.
'Guess I should toss him a chunk of adamantium too.'
"Dwayne, tell the warehouse keeper to give Saladin some adamantium…"
"He already took it."
"…A chunk of… what?"
"He already took it, sir. Probably while you were treating patients… hmm. Three, no, four chunks, I'd say."
This punk—his worry was about bankrupting the family assets!
The dead center of Lake Dosmary.
Hum! Hum!
As the boat arrived and we looked out, a yellowish light blinked repeatedly at the lake's heart.
The blinking grew larger and faster, peaking at last.
Confirming it, my mother, Elena von Carviot, chanted the spell.
"Hidden path, open the door of truth before me now."
Just like the first time opening the gate to the Trial Spire, the gate materialized—fierce waves of mana pouring forth.
How much time passed? The gate's translucent membrane ballooned like a bubble, then burst under the pressure.
Fwoosh!
Ares and Mercy shot out almost simultaneously, soaring high before landing on the boat deck.
Drip, drip.
Whether from events inside the gate or breaching the membrane like that—viscous slime dripped from their bodies.
"Hah, hah… Fi-finally outside."
Ares's ever-calm face was ghastly pale.
"Urghhh! Damn it all! Finally out! That hellish, wretched trial is finally over! Cursed thing!"
Mercy, eyes bloodshot with ecstasy, spewed words that were curses or cheers unclear.
"……"
"……"
At their utterly shocking appearances, everyone's gazes on the boat naturally turned to Elena von Carviot.
No, Mother. What on earth did you do in that Trial Spire…?
Back in Banten's grand conference hall, having hauled the shockingly(?) slimy duo from the lake.
After scrubbing off the goo for ages, Ares and Mercy finally took their seats.
"Phew, damn it. Now I can breathe. Like hell I'll ever go back to that madhouse… Huh?"
Rubbing his wet hair with a towel as he sat, Mercy sensed something missing behind him and glanced toward Kamit.
"Sir Kamit, where's Sir Darkan?"
"W-well… I… don't really know."
Kamit awkwardly dodged her gaze and mumbled, but Mercy eyed his reaction suspiciously.
"What, did he go on a mission? No, even so. The lady he swore loyalty to sweats blood through this grueling trial for so long, and he doesn't even show his face?"
It was exactly as she said.
Coincidentally, Ares and Mercy cleared the Trial Spire at nearly the same time.
Impossible to judge superiority.
Thus, vassals sworn to loyalty should prop them up firmly now.
So where the hell was Darkan at this crucial moment?
"Milady, it's…"
"He's dead."
Elena cut off the troubled Kamit.
"……?"
Did one of the Trial Spire's gates rupture her eardrums?
Mercy rubbed her ears like she'd heard nonsense.
Glancing across mid-rub at Ares.
Ares's eyes bulged in shock.
Looking around: the other Hexagons, Kamit too.
Despite Mother's bizarre words, all wore somber faces—no one laughing.
Mercy wasn't fool enough to miss the mood.
Mother's absurd claim was true.
"…No way. What the hell is this craziness?! Someone explain plainly!!"
Frustration and rage surging from her chest, Mercy screamed.
"Why's everyone clammed up like oysters?! What happened while I was testing?! Sir Kamit, say something!!"
As Mercy shrieked half-mad, I stepped forward.
"Sis, let me explain."
This all started with me. So I'd end it too.
Calming her fury, my voice alone echoed through the vast conference hall for a long while.