Chapter 168
Chapter 168
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 168
Chapter Title: The Radiant Duke of Ballista
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The stone walls were woven so tightly together that not even a drop of water could seep through.
Inside the fortress, which appeared utterly impregnable, there wasn't a single unnecessary ornament to be found.
The stark austerity of this space made it clear: this wasn't some noble's estate—it was a bastion of war.
"I pay my respects to the master of Ballista, the Radiant One, Your Grace."
Joseph bowed deeply to the man before him, his posture dripping with utmost reverence.
The man, clad in full plate armor so white it gleamed silver, exuded a razor-sharp aura even while simply seated—emanating it in all directions.
If his father was like a towering mountain or boulder, this man felt like a masterfully forged sword.
"Wrong, merchant. I am not the master here."
Duke Camille shook his head as he spoke.
"This fortress—and everything on this continent—belongs to His Imperial Majesty. I am merely the caretaker, acting on His orders. Never speak such irreverent words again."
Swish!
Duke Camille's head snapped toward me after that curt warning.
"Jerome, was it? I can't tell if you've got guts of steel or if your liver's hanging out your belly. To think you imagined slipping safely back to your lands after crossing enemy territory— the fiercest battleground of all."
Rooooar!
A chilling killing intent washed over me, sharp as a blade pressed to my throat.
"Didn't it cross your mind that I could lop your head off right here and now?"
My legs trembled instinctively under the pressure, but I forced myself to respond calmly.
"Well, Your Grace, I doubt someone of your stature—moving at His Majesty's command—would let personal grudges cloud your judgment."
"I could bury you and call it an unfortunate accident."
"I'm well aware you're constantly sending scouts to the open plains facing Banten, Your Grace."
I met the duke's eyes without flinching, my gaze defiant.
"If you want to deal with me legally, you'd at least wait until I've stepped outside Ballista's walls. Isn't that right?"
"……."
"……."
Duke Camille fell silent, eyeing me with an inscrutable look, before letting out a sudden chuckle.
"…Heh! Enough joking around. Sorry about that. It's just the first time in my life I've met someone from the Shield Family without crossing blades first—got a bit carried away."
"The feeling's mutual, Your Grace. I never imagined I'd cross paths with an imperial duke outside the battlefield."
"Fine, whatever. His Majesty permitted your passage here, so no helping it. Rest up fully before you go. But you know approaching any military installations means summary execution, right?"
"Of course."
Duke Camille waved his hand dismissively, as if to say their business was done—now get lost.
No one missed the meaning of that gesture.
I quietly bid the duke farewell and headed to the guest quarters prepared for our delegation.
Truly befitting an empire—they've got some nerve.
Both the emperor who allowed our route through Ballista and Duke Camille who permitted our stay within its walls.
Their underlying confidence was the same.
See all you want.
No nation would dare set foot on imperial soil anyway.
What difference does it make if the likes of you peek around?
That was the arrogant mindset at play.
"Whew, even His Grace with his jokes—talk about a killer sense of humor. Right? Hahaha."
Joseph, who'd just finished the audience with me, rubbed his neck and clicked his tongue as we walked out.
"…Yeah. Guarding a fortress in perpetual wartime must make a man crave some levity."
"Whew! I've been to Ballista plenty of times, but it always gets my nerves going without fail. The air here's just so heavy, you know?"
Joseph seemed unusually upbeat, probably buzzing with anticipation—once they crossed Ballista, the Lagrange Merchant Group and others could launch the empire's first major trade runs with the kingdoms.
As we walked, chatting away, he spotted the merchant groups—including Lagrange—inspecting their goods' quality and counting inventory. He bowed to me.
"Whoops, guess I should get back. Even if I dipped out to greet His Grace, stay gone too long and the lads'll gripe. Excuse me, young master."
Joseph gave a quick bow and hurried off toward his group.
Sorry, Joseph. Camille's words might not have been entirely a joke.
It was just a fleeting moment, but I'd felt it clearly. He had seriously considered cutting me down right there.
He'd only backed off because of what I said.
About targeting me legally—outside Ballista's walls.
Grabbing me forcibly on the spot wouldn't help his patron, Ibarella, at all, he'd judged.
So he'd pivoted, just as I'd suggested: wait until I left Ballista to make his move.
He'd noticed, too. That I knew Duke Camille was gunning for Jerome von Carviot.
This was a game now. Between a duke who believed he could surely take me down, and me, convinced I could slip his grasp.
As one of the empire's three swords propping it up, he'd never dream of falling to a whelp like me.
But Duke Camille, there's something you don't know. Everyone who's clashed with me so far has lost—every single one.
This time would be no different.
He acknowledged my growth, sure—but he still underestimated me.
Otherwise, why flaunt that killing intent so openly right there?
There lay my breakthrough, in that gap of perception.
Definitely.
Banten's northernmost rampart.
Beyond this wall lay the Beast Forest and Dragon Mountains to the left and front, and to the right, the open plains linking to Holy Empire territory.
This rampart was the Shield Family's symbol—the kingdom's foremost gateway. Calling it that wasn't exaggeration.
At this very spot, where Mercy had once climbed cursing after Banten's successor was named, another man now stood with hands clasped behind his back.
"Here you are."
A stocky knight, bearing a massive shield on his back disproportionate to his build, ascended the wall.
"Ugh, can't you say something before wandering off? I spent ages looking."
The man on the ramparts glanced at the knight, thinking he resembled the family crest's tortoise. He turned away.
The setting sun, dipping low, painted the man's face red.
"Isn't it fascinating?"
"Don't dodge after hiding out. Do you know how tough it is lugging this thing around searching…?"
Bacchus von Carviot, lord of the Shield Family, leaned on the wall with both hands, his gaze sweeping from left to front.
"Everything beyond this wall once threatened our kingdom and house. But now, nearly two-thirds of that land is no longer enemy territory."
Arandal, the diminutive knight, peered out too as he replied.
"Well, yeah. The elves of the Beast Forest and the Dragon Mountains' folk have started mingling with us bit by bit."
Bacchus's eyes shifted right.
"And now, we're sweeping up the last holdouts."
No subject stated, but Arandal knew exactly who he meant.
"Truly astonishing, isn't it?"
"…Yes. Utterly astounding."
"In the Shield Family's long history, countless lords have defended Banten. I'm one of them. But embracing those we deemed enemies? Never crossed my mind. Not even with Paolo—we chased each other for supremacy in our youth."
The sun that had reddened Bacchus's face now sank slowly beyond the horizon.
Watching it dip, Bacchus lifted a torch wrapped in oil-soaked cloth from behind.
Hiss! Hiss! Whoosh!
As the sun vanished, the softly glowing torch took its place.
"The boy's got vision. Not just as a warrior—his sight encompasses the whole board, far beyond any mortal's."
Arandal agreed. The third young master's martial growth was miraculous enough, but from what he'd observed, raw power wasn't his true strength.
"Banten overflows with the mighty. But those with vision to unite the continent? Rare as hen's teeth."
Bacchus's torchlit eyes turned to Arandal.
"Arandal. If you were Jerome's enemy, how would you play this chance?"
"…I wouldn't let it slide. An eyesore walking right into the tiger's jaws? No way I'd pass that up."
Bacchus nodded at Arandal's answer and gazed at the empire's plains to the right once more.
Arandal mirrored him.
"Lately, I've been thinking. Maybe the next generation can break free from this endless stare-down across those vast plains."
"……."
"For that hope to become reality, it won't be because he's my son—but because we need that troublemaking Jerome. What's your take?"
"Well, the young master's stirred up plenty of messes. But this time, it feels like a particularly risky one."
Clank!
Arandal stretched, loosening his muscles; the shields on his small back clinked together.
"No choice, then. I'll head to the border myself. If you went, lord, it might escalate to war."
"Won't be easy. Camille knows it too, so he probably won't move personally—but Ballista doesn't weaken without him."
Ballista evoked Duke Camille the Radiant, of course—but its true might wasn't his alone.
The Imperial Holy Knights, elite units rivaling or surpassing the Shield Family's Hexagon, had three detachments stationed there: the 2nd, 4th, and 7th.
He knew Jerome had schemed with Baron Hasway's son.
Yet the boy hadn't reached out to his father, despite the stakes.
What could he do? If the kid was too proud, it fell to the parent to extend the hand first.
"Well, if Master Dwayne and young Jerome have prepped, just loan us the Blizzard Knight Order. All that mock training must bore them stiff. Time they guarded their own lord with their own hands."
"Confident? You'll face some of the empire's top-ten elite Holy Knight detachments."
"Ahaha."
Arandal laughed at Bacchus's teasing tone.
"Lord, this is Arandal."
What more needed saying?
Leader of the Shield Family's Six Shields, the Hexagon's pinnacle—heavenly ace whom even Bacchus boasted of. Banten's greatest knight, bar the lord himself.
He'd crushed the former second-ranked Darkan with ease; truly, Banten's strongest after Bacchus.
"I'd welcome all three detachment captains charging out. Been itching to wipe those pests clean."
Bacchus eyed the plains toward Ballista at Arandal's bold words.
On a clear day, that distant fortress held Jerome, no doubt struggling through his mission.
"Double the scouts. No room for variables."
"As you command, my lord."
Arandal descended the wall with a curt reply.
Alone, Bacchus murmured to the plains.
"Orcs and cyclopes, huh… What wild countermeasures you've cooked up. Who else could dream that up and make it happen?"
Baron Hasway's boy had said: better if the Shield Family stayed put.
It'd strip the enemy of any pretext.
Not wrong. Even without him moving, any clash between Shield Family and Ballista carried risks.
Yet Bacchus sent Arandal anyway.
One reason: Camille was leagues beyond anyone Jerome had faced.
"But Jerome—Camille, Ballista—they're no pushovers. Stay sharp."
Bacchus's worried mutter rode the wind across the plains.
May it carry to his distant son.