Chapter 154
Chapter 154
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 154
Chapter Title: Empire's Summons
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Chirp chirp chirp!
The sparrows, who had struggled to find food through the harsh winter, were now voraciously filling their bellies as if to make up for lost time, flitting about energetically.
Whoosh!
Behind the lively vitality of those sparrows, a sharp wind sliced through the training ground's air, echoing loudly.
The source of the sound was Jerome, cultivating Pankration enveloped in an even denser golden aura than the previous winter.
The Philador Kingdom's rebellion, the wyvern hunt, and the subsequent selection of the Banten successor.
Having wrapped up a year filled with turmoil, Jerome had turned nineteen before he knew it.
"Huuu..."
With his dawn training finished, Jerome wiped the sweat from his face and body using the towel laid out nearby.
His bare upper body revealed a physique far more balanced than a year ago, sculpted as if carved from muscle itself.
'My Heterogenous Power hasn't broken through its wall, but my aura and body have advanced rapidly. Is this the influence of Steel?'
During the previous winter, in the process of subduing Darkan—who had colluded with the Empire—Arandal had casually let slip those words.
The balance of mind, energy, and body.
From that hint, Jerome had boldly abandoned his Steel training thereafter.
The brink of the third stage, a level he had already reached in the past.
After reclaiming his previous life's realm, he had been fixated on reaching the fourth stage of his Heterogenous Power until Arandal gave him that clue during the suppression of Darkan's rebellion.
It was inevitable. To him, aura and Pankration were mere supplements; his essence was Steel.
But Arandal's words made him realize the truth.
His progress had stalled because the mind, energy, and body required for it were imbalanced.
'I have to catch that monster from the Archipelago no matter what. One year until I head to Olivia. I need to raise my realm as much as possible by then...'
The Archipelago Pirate King Ballac's prowess—striking the Alliance's rear during the war with the Empire—was utterly terrifying.
He had to advance at least one more step, whether in aura or Heterogenous Power.
"Done?"
Saladin asked, waiting with Mimi and Nene in tow.
"If you're finished, let's go. The Count is looking for you."
"Huh? Father is?"
During the previous winter, due to Darkan's betrayal, the Carviot Count family had officially named Ares as the successor.
Some of Mercy's faction grumbled, unable to accept the decision, but it quieted down once Mercy herself accepted it.
Afterward, as if harboring other intentions, Mercy requested instruction from the territory lord, Bacchus von Carviot.
Many deemed Mercy's request excessive, but contrary to expectations, Bacchus accepted and guided her from morning till night every day.
Summoning a meeting like this was the first time since spring arrived.
"Yeah. Looks like that news you've been waiting for has finally arrived."
"Ah, has it come already?"
As Saladin spoke, Jerome prepared to head to the conference hall, surveying the training ground.
The warming breeze, flowers blooming in the corner of the grounds, the faint chirps of crickets...
Yes.
Spring had fully arrived before he knew it.
Last year, the Emperor had responded to the protest letter sent to the Empire.
He was to bring Luna "personally" to the Empire come spring.
"Where's the Empire's envoy?"
"As you predicted, they didn't come. Maybe they worried we wouldn't hand over Luna and just sent a message via communication orb."
They must be awfully curious about me.
Upon arriving at the conference hall, his father sat in the head seat as always, flanked by Hexagon members and the magic corps leader, Sir Merlin— the family's key retainers.
The differences from past meetings were that his mother, who hadn't returned to the capital for some reason, occupied an extra seat, one Hexagon spot was empty, and his sister Mercy's presence had grown even more subdued.
'She's progressing smoothly.'
Ares's outward aura felt heavier, but Mercy was beginning to internalize hers.
It meant she was focusing on genuinely enhancing her martial prowess.
If she continued growing steadily, she'd surpass Darkan—once a Hexagon member—before the war.
While gauging the retainers' states before the meeting began, the door opened. A woman entered with his father, dressed in unfamiliar garments unlike Ikenian royal attire.
It was Luna, the Twelfth Archbishop of the Holy Empire and Virgin Palace, captured by Jerome in the Dragon Mountains.
"Everyone's gathered. I hope you've all been well."
After delegating all duties to Ares, Bacchus had spent most of his time secluded in his private training ground with Mercy.
Hence the greeting.
Once Bacchus took his seat, Merlin spoke.
"A message came from the Empire. Now that spring is here, as promised, the Third Young Master is to come personally to the Vatican."
"Hmph...!!"
"Those mad zealots..."
The retainers' faces filled with concern. Even though the declaration had been publicized across the continent, the Empire was still enemy territory.
An unfamiliar land where danger could strike anytime, anywhere.
Their worry about sending him there was understandable, but it couldn't be helped.
'To bind Ibarella's hands and feet and extend Emperor Pedro's reign, I must go personally and reveal the truth. Otherwise, the declaration is just waste paper.'
Words from Luna's mouth and his own, spoken "directly," carried different weight.
Emperor Pedro knew that, which was why he demanded Jerome come in person.
'Or maybe it's just curiosity.'
"Jerome, what will you do?"
His father's calm question. Even though the plan had been settled with Dwayne before sending the protest, and everything was decided, Father still asked him.
Whether he truly intended to embark on this potentially fatal journey.
It was inevitable. This trip was to bind Ibarella's influence.
Thus, Ibarella would do everything to prevent him and Luna from reaching the Vatican.
By any means necessary.
But he still had to go.
'Can't have Ibarella solidified as successor already.'
That crazy bitch needs to rot a bit more.
"It's a direct request from the Emperor. If I don't go, they might use it as an excuse against us."
"It's a dangerous path."
"Still, no choice. The divine power in Archbishop Luna's potions is worth enduring for. The potions are pretty great, right?"
With a playful response, he glanced at Luna, who shrugged lightly.
No one in the conference hall could deny his point.
Luna's divinely infused potions boasted exceptional efficacy.
Comparing them to troll blood potions would be an insult.
"Those who've reached the throne can't move anyway. Duke Kamil and Duke Adir on the eastern border have to guard the frontiers, right? In the capital, just watch out for Duke Kaiser. No real threats left."
The remaining four dukes weren't concerns. The First or Second Prince's factions would protect rather than target him in this situation.
Tap, tap, tap.
His father closed his eyes and drummed the conference table at Jerome's words.
Was he still agonizing even though it was settled?
Jerome tried to persuade once more, but his father's response was quicker.
"In three days, we'll hold the send-off for the Third Young Master's journey to the Empire. Let everyone know."
Huh? Three days?
No need to go that far.
But no one in the conference hall objected to his father's decision, and the meeting ended.
Among the nations on the forefront of the Five Nations Alliance, the Yak Kingdom is famous for its potent liquor.
The alcohol, started to forget the fear of imperial invasion, grew stronger in proof over time, and now, after ages, it had risen to a specialty product.
Ironically, the liquor developed to stand against the Empire now sustained the kingdom's finances.
The unique liquor made only in the Yak Kingdom: rum.
To brew rum, sugarcane must be juiced, and the remnants fermented.
This meant the Yak Kingdom inevitably cultivated vast amounts of sugarcane, and the slash-and-burn farmers were no different.
In a rural fief of the Yak Kingdom, a small marketplace bustled with heated haggling.
"Ah, just a bit more! Do you know how much it cost to grow this?!"
"Argh, come on! Last year's bumper crop means no more! I told you!"
A woman trying to sell her painstakingly grown sugarcane and an old man buyer.
They fiercely raised their voices over the price.
But these battles usually ended in the old man's victory.
The reason was simple: the old man had many places to buy sugarcane, but the woman had nowhere else to sell.
Unlike the merchant old man, the slash-and-burn farmer woman couldn't roam the fief freely.
Even haggling loudly like this was a huge risk for her.
"Ugh, damn it! Eat it all up, you bald old geezer!"
In the end, as always, today's negotiation went to the old man.
"B-Bald... It's just shaved, why do you keep saying that?!"
"Hmph, money-grubbing bald geezer. Hope the rest of your side hair falls out too."
"Y-You..."
Though mentally, the old man took the bigger hit.
Thud!
Regardless of the old man's shock, the woman dumped her sugarcane and held out her hand.
"Whatever! Just pay up quick. Gotta head back before sunset."
Clink!
The old man, sadly rubbing his head, placed 5 bronzes in her palm with his other hand.
"I-Is your father still unwell?"
At the old man's question, a flicker of bitterness crossed the woman's eyes, but it passed quickly.
"Yeah, he'll be up soon. He's tough as nails."
"Right, with a daughter working this hard, he needs to recover quick."
The old man smiled warmly at her spirited attitude, but she just stuck out her tongue.
"Whatever, a cheapskate like you. Guard that head of yours."
Tucking the coins away, the woman darted through a hole in the wall lest guards come, leaving the old man meticulously grooming his remaining hair.
"Not bald..."
The brief rural drama ended as the grumbling old man greeted another customer.
An utterly ordinary scene, one that could happen anywhere, anytime.
Yet someone watching this ordinary sight had eyes gleaming.
Long after the woman left.
Merchants conversing casually about everyday matters while eating soup and bread.
They exchanged words inaudible to others.
Telepathy.
The communication method exclusive to Black Lions.
Even though it could be heard by unspecified masses, they didn't care.
Their target had left long ago, and it had been confirmed ages ago that no clear stream Black Lion was in this fief.
Having reached some agreement, the merchants finished eating and stood.
Pretending to stroll naturally, they leaped through the hole the woman had used.
Exiting the outer walls, they spotted small footprints leading into the mountains.
"Good, follow the footprints and..."
"Follow them where?"
"!"
The two merchants, about to pursue, jerked their heads up at the voice from above.
The sugarcane-selling woman. She dangled from a branch by her knees, peering down like a bat.
"Using telepathy so carelessly. Have the cloudy stream brats gotten cocky lately?"
"Damn it, we're made! Scatter!"
At her words, the merchants fled in opposite directions.
At least one had to survive and report to the Shadow.
That the ones sought in the turbid stream were here.
"Krah!"
A sharp scream echoed from afar.
'Damn, already...!'
The surviving merchant gritted his teeth.
Judging by the scream, they'd put distance between them.
Even they couldn't...!
"Hey, hey. Stop running. It's over."
"Hah!"
The woman leisurely waited ahead of the merchant.
"You've got guts. Using telepathy wasn't enough; you thought to tail me too."
Rumble rumble rumble!
The woman bargaining for an extra coin was gone.
A terrifying killing intent, like that from a top predator beast, pressed down on the man.
"Eh, don't feel like chatting long, so let's end it quick."
"U... Uwaaaah!!"
The man charged with a guttural roar.
His movements were less courage, more desperate flailing from terror.
Slash!
The woman tore into the charging man in an instant, then moved on as if nothing happened.
Where she stood remained only the merchant's corpse, mangled as if by a massive beast.