Chapter 231
Chapter 231
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 231
Chapter Title: Captured Traitors
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Azanta Palace of the Sharon Kingdom.
Even on a late night devoid of any light, the palace blazed as brightly as broad daylight.
No, it went beyond mere brightness—it was far more hectic than any daytime bustle.
That was because the group that had set out for House Albans before sunset had returned in triumph.
There wasn't a shred of secrecy in their bold strides.
Thud!
Saladin tossed two large sacks before King Peter, who had rushed to the throne room upon hearing the news.
Wriggle! Wriggle!
The sacks thrashed restlessly, as if eager to announce their presence.
"...What are these?"
"What else? Spoils of war."
King Peter couldn't immediately grasp Saladin's words.
Spoils of war?
Swish!
A single glance was worth a hundred words.
Instead of questioning Saladin, King Peter untied the mouth of one sack. As if waiting for that moment, two heads popped out.
"Mmph! Mmph!"
"Mmmph!"
At the sight of their faces, King Peter instantly understood Saladin's meaning.
"...You're right. Spoils of war."
And he realized why the men who had accompanied Saladin were covered in wounds.
When they had set out to exchange the duke for the Ain tribe children, King Peter had worried there might be physical confrontations at House Albans.
But that didn't explain the severe injuries marring their bodies.
No matter how formidable House Albans was, they couldn't have inflicted such heavy wounds on these elite warriors.
Which meant a 'powerful foe' capable of doing so had appeared.
Who in this kingdom could boast such strength?
In the end, it pointed to intervention by reinforcements from the Holy Empire.
Decisively, the one figure King Peter had 'alone' suspected was now captured as a spoil of war. Without hearing the details, he pieced together the full story.
Gazing at the elderly face emerging from the sack alongside Duke Albans, King Peter said,
"Fortuna. As I suspected, you were the culprit."
The man who had leaked information about Prince Peter's expedition to the beast forest with Millia to the Empire's holy knights.
The one who had incited Duke Albans to sabotage his reforms from the shadows.
It was none other than Fortuna, the slave trade magnate.
"Mmph!"
Though his body was aged and frail, Fortuna's eyes blazed with murderous fury toward King Peter.
Nod.
At King Peter's slight nod, Yorn beside him removed Fortuna's gag.
"Kuhahaha! What injustice, what injustice! Just as my dream was within reach, to have my ambitions crushed by a mere pervert like you!"
Perhaps resigned to his fate, Fortuna no longer hid his claws.
"It may be pointless, but let's hear it anyway. Why did you do it? Your position in this kingdom is hardly lowly. Why choose to become the Empire's dog?"
King Peter couldn't fathom it. Even after the Millia incident, when he had secretly tracked the culprit and first caught Fortuna's trail, he had wondered if it was a mistake.
Fortuna's stature in the Sharon Kingdom was that immense.
He could have understood rebellion against reforms he disliked.
But Fortuna had colluded with the Empire long ago—before King Peter's father, Sharon van Tolkien, had passed.
"Kuhah! Wondering why I chose to become the Empire's dog?"
Fortuna cackled as if the question was absurd.
"If one's life is to be that of a dog anyway, wouldn't anyone prefer the kennel of a grander house? Especially when the master of this rundown shack presumes to discard the hound once its usefulness ends."
Fortuna glared at King Peter with venomous eyes.
"Did you think we couldn't foresee your reforms? We who built this kingdom's greatest prosperity alongside the late king!"
"...!"
"We toiled day and night for the kingdom's glory before you could even walk—no, before you were born! Do you think we'd acknowledge a whelp like you, who's trampled our efforts since your bratty youth, as our king?!"
Drip, drip!
Blood trickled from Fortuna's mouth amid his tirade.
He had bitten down on the poison pill hidden in his mouth.
"Such—!"
King Peter urgently called for a healer, but Fortuna's eyes were already dimming.
"Kuhah... Though I... failed... Peter... those opposing... your reforms... others like me... will..."
Fortuna didn't finish, but no one failed to grasp his implication.
Grip!
Blood dripped from King Peter's clenched fist as he stared at the fallen corpse.
'...I expected opposition, but not this fierce.'
"Mmph!"
Then, a faint sound reached the tormented king's ears.
Fortuna's curse hadn't fallen on deaf ears alone in the throne room.
Duke Albans, the other captive in the sack, writhed as if he had something to say.
Saladin, watching him, spoke first to King Peter.
"Your Majesty, so much has happened today—I'm feeling a bit weary. If it wouldn't be an imposition, might we take our leave?"
"...You may go."
King Peter readily granted Saladin's request.
"This way, please. I'll escort you."
Yorn, who had seen them out at the throne room entrance and closed the doors, subtly bowed his head in private thanks.
Thud!
As the throne room doors shut, Saladin stretched languidly.
"Ahh! At least one matter's settled."
Baukalrak eyed Saladin's nonchalant demeanor.
"Grrr, you sure that's fine?"
"Hm? About what?"
"Grrr! King Peter seemed hesitant. You're not thinking of keeping Mercado going, are you?"
Setting aside right or wrong, the final cry of a master who had dominated his field for decades carried profound weight.
Baukalrak hadn't missed the flicker in King Peter's eyes.
It was understandable—even he, the victim, had briefly thought, 'From his perspective, it makes sense.'
"That's for King Peter to decide."
Saladin responded firmly to Baukalrak's concern.
"If he chooses to maintain Mercado, he'll burn bridges with the Ain tribe entirely. And distance himself from you, and from Jerome, who are on friendly terms with them. But that's a choice for King Peter and House Sharon."
Swish!
Saladin's gaze shifted back to the now-distant throne room entrance as they headed to their quarters.
By now, King Peter was surely locked in deep conversation with Duke Albans.
They had stepped aside precisely for that purpose.
Knowing this, both the king and Yorn had given Saladin grateful looks.
From what had transpired so far, Duke Albans was no traitor to the kingdom. Yet his desired path stood in direct opposition to King Peter's.
"Who knows. He wouldn't have sought our aid without resolve for this. Let's await the king's decision."
The Jerome Saladin knew wasn't some fool handing out favors for free.
He must have believed King Peter had the capacity to navigate this, hence committing such substantial support, including himself.
Should King Peter prove unequal to the task,
Jerome would sever all lingering ties to the Sharon Kingdom after this. Without doubt.
The throne room, now emptied of Saladin and the Ain tribe.
Only King Peter, Yorn, and the sacked Duke Albans remained.
"...Ahem, Your Majesty. If I may be so bold, could you loosen the aura binding this old body of mine? At my age, craning my neck like this is quite taxing."
Duke Albans, a bureaucrat-turned-noble, had trained in martial arts only as a cultural refinement, not for physical prowess.
Knowing this, King Peter had Yorn release the duke's bindings.
"...My thanks, Your Majesty."
"Think nothing of it."
"......"
"......"
Duke Albans reeled from the betrayal of his supporter Fortuna; King Peter from opposition fiercer than anticipated.
An awkward silence settled over the throne room.
"...Your Majesty."
Duke Albans broke it first.
"Speak, Duke."
"Indeed, I sought to swallow Mercado whole. Then force Your Majesty to halt the reforms."
"I know."
"I treated the Ain tribe children especially cruelly on purpose. To make them wary of you as well."
"That, too, I know."
"But I swear, I never intended to sell the kingdom to the Empire."
"...That, also, I know."
Duke Albans was a meritorious retainer who had enriched the kingdom alongside the late king. He would never betray it.
Not even for King Peter's reforms. Peter knew this best of all.
"......"
"......"
Silence fell again. Once more, Duke Albans spoke first.
"Peter."
The form of address changed.
"...Yes, Uncle."
King Peter's did too.
"Can't you reconsider? Just one more time, truly? I know your intentions. But this nation's wealth, from one to ten, was built entirely on the slave trade. Not just the king and nobles—it's the livelihood of the entire populace."
This was no vassal's remonstration to his lord, but a family friend's advice to his young kin.
"I respect your upright values. They are undoubtedly right. But a king must support every soul in his realm. Have you pondered how to sustain the people's lives once the slave trade—the kingdom's cornerstone—crumbles?"
"......"
"Your father, Sharon van Tolkien, brought tears to many slaves' eyes. Some will curse him. Yet he ensured no citizen starved. Can you unconditionally condemn your father's choice?"
"......"
"Not only our house's retainers, but countless commoners resent your reforms. As Fortuna said, more traitors—second, third—may emerge. How will you address it? Execute them all each time?"
"......"
With that, Duke Albans fell silent, watching the quiet king.
A bright child. Just as he had planned to persuade Peter after seizing Mercado, this boy had surely prepared arguments after 'kidnapping' him.
He had said his piece. Now, wait for Peter to speak.
'The kingdom's prosperity...'
Fortuna's deathbed rant, Duke Albans' counsel—these epitomized the Sharon Kingdom's grievances against him.
As 'king' contemplating his 'Sharon,' he could not ignore their cries.
Yet as a 'man,' another image flashed through his mind.
The most beautiful elf in the world. Surely distant from the shadows' underbelly.
Her melancholy and despair ill-suited that beauty lingered unforgettable.
If he chose solely as 'king,' how many more must bear such sorrow and hopelessness?
What had they done wrong to sacrifice for the kingdom's smiles?
Thus, he sought change. But unprepared 'good' was 'evil' to someone else.
Since the late king's passing, he could no longer choose solely as a 'man.'
He must choose fitting his station.
Starving his family to spare others harm was no virtue.
But if unprepared good bred evil, preparing measures rendered it no longer evil.
After endless deliberation, he calmly conveyed his decision to his father's old friend.
"I..."
Sapan Domain.
A southern territory reachable by horse from Olivia's lordly castle in a single day.
Though he had moved here to accommodate the influx of personnel(?) upon hearing Saladin had resolved matters in the Sharon Kingdom, there was no real urgency.
Saladin's follow-up would take days at minimum. No need to rush to Sapan, just a day's ride away.
He had simply fled to Sapan, unable to bear Dwayne's wailing from embarrassment.
Well, and to casually greet Young Lord Cain and check on him.
Yes, surely that was the only purpose.
House Dudley, viscountcy of Sapan's lord and Young Lord Cain's family home.
In the lordly castle's reception room, where he had come to pay respects, the master was absent. Instead, an utterly unexpected figure greeted him.
"Well, well, Jerome. Can't say you're much of a gentleman. Long time no see."
A young man lounging arrogantly, feet propped on the table.
The Sword Family's eldest son and leader of their island-pacification force: Victor van Dimitri.
'...Why the hell is big bro there?'