Chapter 166
Chapter 166
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 166
Chapter Title: Ballista Bound
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The day after meeting the princes, the entrance to the inn "Place of the Lord's Rest" was already bustling from early morning with merchant caravans dispatched by the Second Prince.
"You're earlier than I expected."
"Well, we've got a long way to go, don't we? And more than that..."
Luna glanced around at the noise from the caravans unloading and lowered her voice.
"...I wanted to see you even a day sooner."
Grind!
Luna's teeth ground together in her mouth as she forcibly suppressed her irritation.
She must be thinking of her captive mother.
"Have you wrapped things up with Pope Francesco?"
"...Yes, somehow, thanks to you."
Just as the Second Prince had sent his caravans, the First Prince had kept his promise and dispatched Luna.
The Pope was someone who had so little trust in her that he was holding her mother prisoner, but with the First Prince personally requesting it, he couldn't refuse to let Luna go.
"Then now we can focus on rescuing Archbishop Luna's mother."
The First Prince was a busy man with public duties from the start. He was too occupied untangling the political dynamics of this situation to notice personal matters like Luna's issue with the Church.
Naturally, it wouldn't even cross his mind that I was planning to sneak her mother out.
'I figured that sly fox of a Pope Francesco would be suspicious. But even so, I didn't expect him to handle things this thoroughly.'
Before departing for Banten as a missionary, Luna had demanded to see her mother.
She needed to know where her mother was being held to attempt a secret rescue before leaving the Vatican.
But as if he'd anticipated Luna's thinking, Pope Francesco had smirked slyly and spouted nonsense.
He claimed that, due to health reasons, Luna's mother had been moved to another location just recently.
He must have known exactly where that new place was, which gave him the confidence to send Luna off.
'What a load of crap. Sending someone to a barren wasteland like that for "recovery"?'
What a coincidence. The place where Luna's mother had been moved was somewhere I absolutely had to go.
One of the continent's most impregnable fortresses.
Ballista Fortress.
It was guarded by Duke Kamil, one of the Empire's three swords.
"But is it really okay to head for Ballista? It's a military zone..."
Now that they'd set their course for Ballista to rescue her mother, Luna trailed off, perhaps out of fear.
It couldn't be helped. In her previous life, Archbishop Luna had failed to save her mother right up to the moment of her death—not because she was incompetent.
No, not even the greatest hero could breach Ballista's defenses alone.
That was the nature of the place.
"Don't worry. With the Emperor and the princes' backing and justification on our side, attacking us now would only tighten Ibarella's noose even further. She's not that shortsighted."
Besides, there was a compelling reason to visit Ballista no matter what.
It stemmed from the past, after rescuing Millia on the way back to Banten, when imperial pursuers had attacked.
A monster from the same unit that terrorized regular soldiers had appeared, along with a dwarf wielding flames similar to those of the Crimson Flame Mage, Aria von Wendinel.
Missing this chance to pass through Ballista Fortress on the way home would make it nearly impossible to visit again.
"Routing through Ballista will shave over a month off the journey compared to our incoming path. No one will suspect foul play."
That said, there was one potential variable: the brief window after leaving Ballista en route to Banten.
Whether Ibarella would stay quiet during that time was the question.
It was something Dwayne and I had agonized over right up to the end without a solution, leaving me wondering if I should ask the elves or my father for help.
Dwayne had promised to devise concrete countermeasures and contact us before heading to Banten, but now that risk had dropped dramatically.
I glanced toward Rampang inside the inn, tending to Karma.
'Heaven smiles on us. Who'd have thought I'd encounter White Wing Rampang here in the Vatican.'
With Rampang—who had ascended to the throne, just like Duke Kamil—on our side, no trap they dug would be a problem.
As Luna and I exchanged various thoughts, the representative from the Second Prince's caravan approached.
"My greetings are belated, Young Master Jerome von Carviot. I am Joseph, head of the Lagrange Merchant Group—one of the caravans ordered by His Highness the Second Prince to Banten."
Lagrange Merchant Group. A venerable old firm with deep roots even in the Empire.
"Pleased to meet you, Joseph. With a caravan this size, you must have plenty to check. No rush."
It was a group that had frequently traded with the Carlos Merchant Group, which my past self had led under the name Jaeger.
'Lagrange Merchant Group, huh. The Second Prince put real thought into this.'
On this trip to the Empire, the Emperor Peter—the true master of the Empire—and the First Prince, backed by the Pope, had overshadowed the Second Prince, Kail, whose presence was relatively minor.
Unlike the Emperor, who had earned recognition of his reign from the Shield Family—one of the Empire's chief external foes—or the First Prince, who had spread the Empire's state religion to foreign lands for the first time, the Second Prince's achievements were modest. Still, he had quietly built trade ties with various kingdoms.
Thus, to pull away those defecting from Ibarella on par with the Emperor or First Prince, the Second Prince needed to rack up merits.
Overwhelming ones, at that.
And the scale of the caravans unloading in front of the inn was proof of that resolve.
Led by the famed imperial Lagrange Merchant Group, wagons emblazoned with all sorts of crests stretched endlessly, their crews verifying cargo.
Among them, not just Lagrange but several familiar crests from my past life caught my eye.
By the time I'd exchanged greetings with Joseph and the heads of the other caravans, the sun was nearing noon.
"Well then, shall we get moving?"
The ostensible reason for coming to the Empire—curbing Ibarella's power—had seen some success.
Now for the 'real' reason we'd aimed for the Empire.
It was time to rescue Luna's mother.
Our destination: southwest of the Vatican.
The fortress, Ballista.
The Dragon Mountains, located in the continent's north, inevitably faced far harsher winters than nations at lower latitudes due to their position.
Yet there was one place that maintained a sweltering, summer-like climate year-round.
The land of scorching heat belched forth by volcanoes.
The Cyclops' territory, Gaia.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The clear, resonant hammer strikes echoing through Gaia.
Even accounting for Gaia's place in the Dragon Mountains—known as a monster paradise—this rhythmic din felt utterly out of place.
But the Cyclops had fully embraced this daily symphony; no one paid it any mind as they busied themselves with their tasks.
If anything, their cheeks flushed with excitement attune to the beats.
"Hmmm..."
One Cyclops gazed at his handiwork and broke into a satisfied smile.
A massive halberd suited to a Cyclops' towering frame.
Its blade bore a beautiful wavy scale pattern.
"Heh heh heh. Finally complete, my beloved weapon. Excellent. I've got your name...!"
"Done? Then move!"
Thwack!
"Gyaack!"
The grinning Cyclops at the giant anvil toppled over from a kick by the one behind him.
"Which bastard...!"
"You own the anvil? Finish up and step aside quick—why drag it out?!"
"You uncultured swine, blind to the artisan's spirit!"
The Cyclops glared at his kin for ruining this triumphant moment of completion, but soon froze.
"What? Try me?"
"...!"
His kicker smirked mockingly, but the Cyclops couldn't act rashly.
Behind him stood another kin, and behind that one, more. An endless line of Cyclopes glowered at the dawdler, lone eyes bulging.
"...Hmph! I'm in a good mood from just finishing my baby, so I'll let it slide. C-count yourself lucky!"
He snatched his new weapon and scurried from the anvil.
Clutching his prize, his face lit up as if the foul mood had never been.
And the kicker, in time, dawdled just like the one before—only to repeat the cycle.
Such scenes played out across Gaia.
Cyclops Lord Arges and his bodyguard—his brother—Brontes watched from afar with warm smiles.
"My king, our kin's armaments have surged."
"Speak freely when it's just us, brother."
"Very well. Grabbing Jerome's hand back then was the rational choice."
"...Quick on the uptake. Fine by me."
Arges chuckled at Brontes' shift in demeanor and turned to their kin.
Cyclopes, craftsmen rivaling dwarves, had been forced into crude gear due to Gaia's harshness.
But iron ore flowing from Marquis Midas' Nile territory through Banten and back to Gaia, plus wyvern byproducts from Death Valley, had transformed their equipment dazzlingly.
"How's the quota for the orcs coming?"
"On schedule. No worries."
"Hatan's a wild one, that guy. The mountains are practically his kingdom now."
"Last I saw, armed with our gear, they looked like a human army."
"Orcs reborn as drilled warriors, fully equipped..."
Arges shuddered dramatically in his massive frame, imagining it.
"Terrifying."
Hatan, who had nearly devoured the Dragon Mountains, was no mere orc anymore—a true powerhouse.
The Cyclopes themselves, unleashing their master craft talents, were enjoying their species' greatest golden age.
Even Lycanthropes—seasoned forest hunters alongside the elves—were mustering in Death Valley.
Rumor had it the elves ruling the beast forest southwest of the mountains had allied with Jerome too. One couldn't help but admire the human's prowess.
Brontes smirked at Arges' reaction.
"Well, it's all part of the plan, right? As you know, my king, the North Wall guarded by that monster beyond the mountains is still beyond the orcs' power to breach."
"True. That's why Jerome told the Lycanthropes to train and us to arm up."
Arges nodded gravely at Brontes' words.
Jerome's ability to assemble such forces alone was beyond doubt.
Yet paradoxically, the human might at the North Wall—below Gaia—chilled him to the bone, filling Jerome with endless dread.
How immense was their power?
"A letter came from Dwayne, Jerome's man in Banten. Want to see?"
"Mm."
Brontes handed Arges a letter from the human merchants supplying their ore.
Written on paper huge even by Cyclops standards, it looked like a tiny scrap in Arges' hand.
Rustle!
Arges' single eye swiftly scanned Dwayne's missive.
"Hmm. Jerome's heading into the 'North Wall'..."
The ironclad land the Cyclopes called the North Wall: Ballista Fortress.
Just as the Dragon Mountains were forbidden to humans, Ballista loomed as a human-made terror over the mountains' myriad monsters.
Its warden had always been a monster-like powerhouse distant from ordinary men.
And the current North Wall commander was the strongest in that lineage's history.
"He's not asking us to storm the North Wall now. Probably wants us to keep their humans busy since they'll target Jerome's group."
"Seems like it."
"Orcs too?"
"Geographically, Hatan's central domain is closer to Banten than us."
"Hmm..."
Arges' lone eye darkened at Brontes' reply.
Though classed as monsters, Cyclopes bore the legend of inheriting divine blood with their wisdom.
As their wise king, Arges read between the lines in Dwayne's letter.
"That punk Jerome's planning to stir up big trouble at the North Wall."
Trouble so massive it'd require full-scale checks from Cyclopes and orcs alike.