Chapter 97
Chapter 97
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 97
Chapter Title: The Commander's Invitation
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"Over there!"
"Fetch more water! If we don't put this out soon, we're done for!"
"Damn it, not this side! Start with the granary! Are you deaf or what?!"
It was an ordinary night, but an extraordinary event kept the people of Mazino Fortress from sleeping.
"……."
And in the fortress's back alleys, amid the chaos of the arson breaking out everywhere, there were those silently watching the scene.
"The guards on the walls have started moving to extinguish the fires."
"How many?"
"About thirty percent."
"Young master, it's a success."
Max reported to the Blue Field knight and then informed me of the operation's success.
Under normal circumstances, I would have agreed, but…
"Something feels off."
"Pardon? What do you mean?"
"…It's too easy."
Yes, too easy.
Even with their entire Royal Guard missing, the commander hadn't sent out search parties. Instead, they focused solely on sealing the walls—a coldly rational decision.
No matter how fiercely the flames roared, could they truly outweigh the disappearance of the Royal Guard?
Yet the commander brazenly diverted thirty percent of the forces for the fires.
'That thirty percent is too precise.'
If thirty percent were pulled away, that meant seventy percent still remained.
With the Blue Field Knights, plus Miron and me combining our strength, we might overpower them. But before we could, the fortress troops were more likely to extinguish the fires and reinforce the walls.
Waiting it out, however, would let the flames die down soon enough, allowing the fortress's defenders to regain their calm and stability.
'Only one choice left.'
Assassinate the commander.
If the troops didn't move, that was our only option. If they did, we'd make them think the gates were opening and strike from behind.
In any case, we'd chosen to target the commander.
But now, it felt forced.
In short…
"…This commander is inviting us in."
Caught between options, we'd be compelled to take this path.
If the commander—especially the one I suspected—had seen through it all.
-Quit the games and come face me. Let's have it out.
That was the message.
"So, what will you do, young master? We'll follow your lead."
"No changes to the plan. In this situation, there's only one choice anyway."
I stared at the tallest spire in the heart of Mazino Fortress and flashed a pale smile.
"We've both anticipated each other's thoughts. Now, the key is how accurately we've predicted the cards the other has prepared."
The irritating man's plan atop that spire was easy to guess.
An invitation amid capturing Knight Youngken.
Our forces? Easily inferred as Sword Expert upper-grade or higher.
Yet issuing the invite meant one thing.
He'd prepared a stronger card.
Predicting what it was? Simple.
Michael Shen, Philador Kingdom's greatest knight.
Nothing else fit.
'With a Master prepared, defeat seems unlikely.'
Though he never claimed the throne, a knight who'd reached Master realm was a strategic weapon in his own right.
Regrettable for him.
I'd accurately predicted his card.
Unfortunately, the man atop the spire had failed to predict mine.
Roarrr!
The arsons blazing across the fortress were like cancer cells in a body—slowly, but surely, eating away at it.
"So it's begun."
At the fortress outskirts, Marquis Midas awaited good news from within, having received the Blue Field Knights' missive.
"Bold, isn't it? Youth makes one daring. Failure means execution, guest or not…."
He chuckled dryly.
-Young Master Jerome says, 'Instead of seizing the walls, we'll take their head.'
Recalling the message, Marquis Midas shook his head in disbelief.
"Success, and I'll owe him big. A tremendous merit for his future endeavors."
Distant clamor echoed from the fortress, flames still unchecked.
"Let's watch, Young Master Jerome. Will your absurd plan grant me wings, or vanish with me into the execution grounds?"
Inside the spire.
Few guards remained, likely drawn to fight the fires.
Crack!
"M-monster!"
"Out of my way, small fry. I don't want needless sacrifices."
Miron's colossal frame, like a giant god, wielding a hammer the size of a man's torso, smashing comrades' heads—it froze the soldiers in terror.
Against these foes, Miron instilled far more visual dread than I could.
Step by step, they retreated.
Blood-soaked, bursting heads—Miron's words took effect.
"D-damn it! I don't wanna die!"
Clang!
One soldier dropped his weapon and fled in panic.
The first breaks easily; crowd panic follows in seconds.
Clang! Clang!
The soldiers blocking Miron vanished in a blink.
Watching their rout stirred bitterness.
'Is this the current caliber of Philador Kingdom's soldiers…?'
Had it been the Holy Empire, they'd fight to the last man—fists when weapons broke, teeth when bodies shattered, foreheads when teeth failed.
For their Emperor and Pope, to the bitter end.
Even lacking combat experience, elite fortress guards at the capital's key defense shouldn't be this frail.
'The era of peace has lasted too long.'
Lost in thought, Max approached.
"Young master, found the stairs to the upper levels. Shall we?"
"…Yes. No more interruptions till the top. They've likely gathered everything at the summit."
"Understood, young master."
As Max and the Blue Field Knights scouted the spire, their intelligence prowess shone—clearing paths smoothly.
Not just stairs, but secret passages and magic circles discovered and destroyed.
"This should delay any reinforcements considerably."
True to Max's word, no relief forces arrived by the time we reached the top.
The spire's summit held no ornate decorations, no carpets, no chandeliers.
Just open arches with columns supporting a dome roof.
A place dedicated solely to overlooking the walls.
Clap, clap, clap!
"Impressive."
At the dome's center stood a familiar face, clapping in mock admiration.
"I half-doubted you'd actually come here, young master. I knew you weren't ordinary from our first meeting, but I didn't peg you for this level of madman."
Versailles stopped clapping, his face turning icy as he regarded me.
"You know facing me here is a massive diplomatic incident in itself?"
I shrugged, countering.
"Hmm, maybe? That assumes the First Prince guaranteed our safety."
I pointed to a corner behind him.
"If he planned to keep my head attached, he wouldn't have left a man like that waiting here."
"Oh?"
Versailles's eyes gleamed at my response.
'He sensed Sir Michael's presence? This kid, barely twenty?'
Is this truly that continental pest?
Reformed just a few years ago.
'He'll be a huge thorn later.'
Honed by years of palace intrigue against siblings, his instincts screamed.
This man would relentlessly obstruct his plans.
Versailles's gaze chilled from surprise.
"…Indeed, as you say. Diplomatic issues arise only if it's revealed you aided the bandits here."
Snap!
With a finger flick, from the curtained corner emerged a man in dazzling silver armor.
Michael Shen.
Captain of Philador's First Royal Guard, the kingdom's finest knight.
"You never came here, young master. Isolated in the capital Berti, you vanished unknowingly, whereabouts unknown after. Crude excuse, but it'll do. I dare not cross the throne's master either."
Even a child could grasp Versailles's implication. And Sir Michael Shen was far sharper.
Shing!
A sword gleaming with silver light drew forth. At a glance, a supreme blade—likely solid mithril, not plated.
"Pleased to meet you, Young Master Jerome. Michael Shen, Captain of the First Royal Guard. In another setting, I'd raise a glass, not a blade…."
No complacency in the kingdom's top knight's eyes.
"But here, you're a threat to the royals. I'll claim your life, Jerome."
As Sir Michael gathered his aura, his presence filled the vast dome.
Tension thick, no matter where you moved.
"We'll see who outlasts whom."
But I tensed for another reason.
Two years ago, after witnessing the throne claimants' duel.
I trained, trained, trained relentlessly.
And the result?
I'd surpassed the 'wall'.
Now I could say it firmly.
I'd nearly reclaimed my past realm.
Grip!
I wondered.
Could I defeat a Master now?
'No—I must.'
Given time, I'd reach Father's throne-level realm.
But merely reaching the throne wasn't enough.
My foe wasn't one throne warrior.
It was the nation embracing the throne's master—and three, no, four others.
Stumbling against a mere Master? Unacceptable.
Battle intent surging, I gathered aura like Sir Michael.
His presence filling the space began to yield.
"!!"
Had he never imagined this?
Shock widened Sir Michael's eyes.
"How…?! Young Master Jerome, what in the world…?!"
"First Prince, you said I never came here?"
I ignored Michael, questioning Versailles and answering myself.
"Agreed. I never met the First Prince either."
Facing the kingdom's Master, I declared calmly.
"Today, right here."
Pushing back Sir Michael's potent presence.
"Either I or First Prince Versailles— one of us ceases to exist."