Chapter 201
Chapter 201
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 201
Chapter Title: Gathering Banners
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“Ho, so the Heavenly Shield has been hiding his power from the world...”
Karma's eyes sparkled, recognizing a realm in Bacchus that surpassed even the high praises heard across the lands by half a step—or perhaps a full one.
If the three dukes of the Holy Empire didn't possess strength beyond the rumors, none of them could pierce Banten's shield alone.
“It's not that I've been hiding my power. I've simply shed the foolish arrogance that only I could—or must—handle everything.”
“Ho...”
From Bacchus's reply, Karma could clearly sense it. Bacchus had crossed a wall as thin as a sheet of paper yet harder to breach than anything in this world.
“Well, I realized this through my third son, too.”
“Heh heh heh. That's good news.”
“By the way, what are your plans now, Azure Wing?”
Bacchus abruptly changed the subject and asked Karma, but the sage understood the intent. As Jerome's guests, with Jerome now departing, it was a question about their future whereabouts.
“If it's agreeable to you, Azure Wing, you could stay in Banten indefinitely.”
Accepting Bacchus's invitation wasn't a bad choice. No matter how bold Veras might be, they wouldn't easily target Banten under Bacchus's watch.
However...
“Heh heh heh! I appreciate the kindness, but I'll just take it in spirit. I need the peony that young master Jerome promised to procure. So, it makes sense to head south with him, where the chances are higher.”
Karma gently declined Bacchus's offer.
“I see. That's a shame.”
As if expecting the response, Bacchus didn't press further. Watching him, Karma smiled with a hint of mischief.
“Personally, being around young master Jerome means there's never a dull moment. He always drags trouble along with him, doesn't he?”
With those enigmatic words, Karma's gaze turned toward the castle walls.
“...Well now. I'm still not quite at your level, Azure Wing. That stings my pride a bit.”
Bacchus caught on a moment later to the meaning behind Karma's glance and chuckled softly.
“Heh heh heh! I can't yield my reputation to just anyone yet.”
“I'll catch up soon enough.”
“Oh dear! Then I'd better run faster, heh heh!”
As the two absolutes bantered idly, the protagonist drawing their gazes was entering Banten atop the walls.
“Wow, is that the Dragon Mountains I've only heard about? They're even more majestic than I imagined.”
Though she was infamous across the kingdom as a troublemaker, Princess Seira was still royalty through and through.
Having never left the capital Edirne in her life, she couldn't contain her awe at the grand vista of nature unseen in the city.
“Hahaha, when we head to Olivia, we'll go by sea route, so you'll get your fill of the ocean too.”
“Huh? By sea? Does Banten border the ocean?”
Watching Princess Seira double-check her knowledge of Banten, Dwayne elaborated.
“Haha, of course not. Banten's inland—no sea here. We'll rest a few days to recover, then head to Elrunheim to catch a ship, Your Highness.”
“El...runheim? That's the elves' land, right? Deep in the Beast Forest.”
Princess Seira's reaction was a beat slow, as if struggling to process Dwayne's explanation.
“That's right, Your Highness. Straight to the elves' territory.”
Princess Seira glanced at the bracelet on her arm.
It resembled intertwined vines, exuding the pure beauty of nature itself. This bracelet hailed from Elrunheim.
“I've heard rumors that Banten succeeded in trade with the elves. Their goods have trickled into Edirne steadily. But... it seems the ties run much deeper than I thought.”
Princess Seira's eyes sparkled. For reclusive elves to allow human ships to dock went beyond mere trade—it proved a far closer bond than the rumors suggested.
“Sticking with that guy means no boredom.”
Saladin, who had been quietly listening to Seira and Dwayne, chimed in slyly.
“Everything he's done so far has exceeded expectations. You'll see even more surprises on the way to Elrunheim than you imagine.”
“Hmm?”
A playful glint crept into Princess Seira's smile at Saladin's words.
“Good thing I tagged along. I thought just having you, Prince Saladin, would suffice. Now Olivia sounds way more exciting than I expected.”
“...Oops, my bad. I forgot something important.”
“Prince Saladin, if I may, what exactly do you have to...”
“Kyaa! Mimi and Nene need sharpening too! And oiling! So much to do!”
“Your Highness, during the spring festival trip, you didn't even draw Mimi or Nene once...”
“Anyway!! I'm off!”
Pfft!
Overhearing Dwayne and Saladin's banter brought laughter bubbling up.
'Huh, Dwayne and Princess Seira click perfectly even in this life. Were their personalities always this compatible?'
In his past life, Dwayne had been Kandar's strategist in Princess Seira's resistance force, the Golden Cross, out of loyalty to the royal family—or so he'd thought.
Maybe there was more to it.
As Princess Seira and Dwayne teased Saladin, Banten's walls gradually came into view.
“No, really, about that time, please... Huh? Something's off. Why are there so many people on the walls?”
Saladin, sweating under Princess Seira's teasing, tilted his head at the sight of Banten's walls.
“Don't change the subject, Prince Saladin. Banten's a vast northern hub. Crowds are normal.”
Princess Seira brushed it off, but Dwayne sided with Saladin this time.
“Hmm, it is unusual.”
“Huh? Prince Dwayne, what's unusual?”
Saladin pouted at Princess Seira's differing reaction, but no one paid it mind.
“As Your Highness says, Banten bustles with tourists and merchant caravans craving elven goods. But those on the walls don't look like merchants or sightseers.”
Princess Seira's eyes followed Dwayne's explanation to the banners fluttering before the walls.
Flags symbolizing families from surrounding Shield Family territories, even nearby foreign cities.
They weren't strangers to Banten, but such a simultaneous convergence was rare.
Princess Seira still looked puzzled.
“With Jerome receiving his title, nearby lords would come congratulate him, right? I get Saladin, but why are you surprised too, Prince Dwayne?”
“No, Your Highness, I wasn't saying...”
“It's too much.”
Saladin started to complain, but Dwayne's firm words drowned it out.
“Look at those banners, Your Highness.”
A flag emblazoned with roaring flames—the emblem of the Vulcan Marquis Family from the eastern powerhouse, Osiris Kingdom.
“Vulcan Marquis? Why from way out east?”
“Not just them, Your Highness. Over there—the Wendinel Duke Family banner from Fran Kingdom.”
In the direction Dwayne pointed, the Wendinel banner bearing the sefirot symbol of truth billowed.
But Dwayne's concern wasn't those two.
He'd mentioned them only to explain to Seira, ignorant of the wyvern subjugation ties. His eyes had been fixed on one banner from the start.
A pickaxe and shovel crossed in a comical design.
Yet it represented the family—no, the nation—dominating the continent's most inhumane industry.
The shadowy slave markets beneath the Continental Federation's states.
Not merely overseeing this colossal trade, but seizing over two-thirds: Sharon Kingdom's banner.
Unlike Saladin's casual remark to escape his plight, Dwayne had instantly spotted the anomaly at Banten's walls.
“Sharon royal banner...? The royals themselves to Banten?”
Princess Seira finally noticed it, her face clouding with doubt.
No matter how much the Carviot count family rivaled a duchy...
No matter that Jerome von Carviot once saved Prince Peter's life...
For a count's son to receive a mere barony warrant merited no royal envoy. It was excessive.
The Five Nations Alliance might be small states in the Federation, but this was pride.
In fact, no other alliance member had seen a royal visit.
Excluding Sharon, Fran’s Wendinel Dukes and Osiris’s Vulcan Marquises were the greatest houses present.
A royal visit risked perceptions of subservience over affection.
Knowing—or certain—of the backlash, yet coming anyway meant...
'They deem the matter worth enduring that scrutiny.'
Dwayne recalled the news just before departing for the spring festival.
The passing of Tolkien van Sharon, Sharon's king who forged its greatest era of royal authority.
No follow-up news since.
Edirne should have heard succession details, but Jerome's exploits overshadowed everything.
'It must tie to the post-Tolkien affairs.'
As Dwayne pondered Sharon's motives, Jerome's group reached Banten's walls.
As major houses entered Banten, so did Jerome and his party.
Upon their arrival, guards logging other envoys snapped to salute.
“Hail, Third Young Master!”
Even guards knew of Jerome's barony.
Yet calling him 'Third Young Master' was likely Father or Mother's order.
A reminder: title or not, this was his 'hometown' and 'home'.
I returned their salute crisply.
“Good work, everyone. May we enter?”
“Of course, Third Young Master!”
“Lots of guests today. Must be tiring—after shift, wet your whistles with this.”
Clink!
Offering a small pouch, the guards' faces lit up.
“Whoa! Thank you, Third Young Master!”
“Keep it up.”
Pat pat!
Light taps on their shoulders, and we entered Banten. Princess Seira watched, fascinated.
“Guards taking bribes openly? Banten's troops are famed for iron discipline.”
Her expression held only curiosity—no sarcasm, pure genuine interest.
'Still so naive to the world.'
Knowing futures that wouldn't come bred such disconnects. Viewing people through past-life lenses.
Recalling Seira the heroine leading Golden Cross made her innocent questions jarring.
“True, Banten soldiers take no bribes. That's why we must reward them.”
Bribes were impossible for Banten's disciplined guards.
But that meant fewer off-duty outlets than elsewhere.
“Whip alone doesn't forge discipline. Eliminate temptation, and they uphold it willingly.”
As direct kin, my gift was 'reward', not bribe—why they accepted freely.
“Ah, so the pouch had purpose.”
“Haha, yes. Unlike the royals overseeing the kingdom, we focus on Banten—such granular care matters more.”
Chatting idly with Princess Seira, we entered the inner castle, where countless house banners flew.
Beneath one, a familiar voice rang out.
“Hahaha, young master Jerome! No—Baron Carviot! Heartfelt congratulations on your title!”
The owner was someone whose presence here seemed improbably weighty.