The Suicide That Wasn't

Viscount Ahental had barely returned to the inner keep when Ramang's report struck him like a blow.

"Sir Adol... hanged himself?"

"I am sorry, my lord. I failed to keep a proper watch..."

Ramang seemed equally shaken, as though he had nothing more he could say. The two of them had been of similar rank, and until each had been assigned an heir to serve, they had associated quite closely. The viscount had cherished both men — that was why he had entrusted them with his sons. To hear that one of them had taken his own life was a heavy blow.

The viscount rushed down to the basement in a daze. His three escorts had no choice but to follow.

In a corner of the torture chamber, a corpse dangled from a cowhide strap around its neck. The strap was a tool used to bind a body; the hook from which it hung was meant for piercing living skin ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and suspending a person in midair.

Reading the will scrawled in blood across the wall, the viscount spoke in a grim voice.

"Recover the body with care and see that he is given a proper funeral."

"Yes, my lord."

Messi surveyed the interior of the torture chamber, then examined Adol's corpse from every angle. Something felt off.

"...This is strange."

"What is strange?"

Frox and the viscount drew closer. Bacillus stood guard at the entrance.

"This right index finger. He cut off the first joint and used the blood to write that letter on the wall, yes?"

"That would be the case."

"Then the blood would have been pouring out. Look — his right hand is soaked in it, isn't it?"

It was a matter of common sense, so Frox agreed. He still did not understand why Messi was bringing it up. Only the viscount grasped his meaning.

"With that blood-soaked hand, he would have had to loop the cowhide strap around his neck and hang it on that hook... yet the strap is far too clean."

"A man about to die wouldn't have cared about getting blood on the strap, and he certainly wouldn't have done it one-handed on purpose."

Moreover, even someone who had chosen suicide would thrash and claw at the noose the moment their airway closed. Bloodstains would have been inevitable. Ramang looked puzzled as well. The viscount turned to him.

"Ramang, is it true that no one entered this place?"

"Yes. I guarded the basement access thoroughly. No one came near."

"..."

Which meant that once you passed the entrance Ramang was watching, anything could happen inside without his knowledge.

"Sir Messi, who do you believe is responsible?"

"At first I suspected the First Young Master. But from his position, simply disposing of the evidence would have been enough to turn the tables — he had no reason to eliminate his own pawn."

"Hmm."

Even the suggestion that his eldest son was under suspicion, the viscount accepted. He had already taken Ayres's involvement as all but established fact.

"Then who?"

"The other parties to this affair would see it differently. They're on the run — they wouldn't want to leave a trail. Frame it as a knight's suicide, and the family will hush it up. A very convenient way to bury the matter."

"The Red Cross, then."

The moment he heard Messi's words, the viscount swiftly requested support from the Church. They were, after all, the ones whose nature stood in perfect opposition to the Red Cross.

The moment Benedict arrived at the underground dungeon, he pointed at Bacillus and tried to drive Holy Fire into him, roaring, "You filthy warlock! Die!"

After they barely managed to explain that the dense aura of black magic clinging to the man had a reason, Benedict calmed himself and returned to his usual manner.

"Saint. It has been some time. Have you been well?"

"This guy scares me too, kkyu."

Messi found himself agreeing with Kkyu.

"You've heard the situation on the way, I trust? Greetings can wait — would you take a look at this corpse first..."

"There is no need."

"Pardon?"

"Black magic was clearly performed in the vicinity. The stench is dreadful. Could the Saint not smell the rotting meat?"

He had noticed the unpleasant odor. But he had taken it for the characteristic reek of a torture chamber, and had not connected it to black magic.

"Having received Holy Fire, your body would be sensitive to the aura of black magic. We use scent as our first method of identification. It gives off a distinctive smell of rotting flesh."

Messi could do this too. He decided to memorize the smell, and properly learned the second and third methods of identification as well.

"Those bastards dared to wander Ahental as if it were their own backyard!"

"My lord, it is their habit to remain very close to their client. They would have been watching Sir Adol continuously."

As one who had faced the Red Cross on multiple occasions, Benedict knew their patterns of behavior.

"Then they must still be within the family."

"It seems the Saint has someone in mind."

Messi looked at the viscount. Until now it had been fine — they had been among insiders. But naming the First Young Master as a suspect in front of Benedict, an outsider, was a different matter entirely. The viscount, however, made the request of Benedict himself.

"I currently have suspicions regarding one of my children. I would ask that Sir Benedict remain here and keep an eye on his surroundings."

"Lord Ayres, I presume?"

"...?"

He had assumed Benedict would naturally suspect the family's official wastrel, but Benedict named the eldest son first. It was puzzling.

"That is so. I would ask that you look into it quietly. If you would do so, I shall contribute generously to the Church's funds."

"I cannot accept payment for such work merely because the monastery is short of funds. Striking down warlocks is a paladin's sacred duty."

The viscount had meant for the matter to be handled discreetly, but Benedict seemed focused solely on the killing. The silver Holy Fire in both of Benedict's hands looked, today of all days, as heavy as a warhammer. By coincidence, Viscount Ahental had entrusted the affair to the single most qualified man for the job.

"My lord, the vassals are waiting upstairs."

The vassals who had gathered that afternoon still had not left the inner keep even as evening fell. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Ahental's future hung on how the negotiations with House Krombell would turn out. The two houses were of comparable standing — enough that they regarded each other as rivals — and if the talks collapsed into open war, the consequences would be dire. From the vassals' perspective, they desperately wanted to prevent the two houses from fighting, by any means necessary.

If war breaks out, one side will surely fall.

Maintaining the status quo is best.

How could we possibly defeat Krombell in a war?

The office of Minister of Military Affairs in the Asiris Kingdom had a tendency to rotate between two houses: one was House Vaskas, the marquisate; the other was House Krombell, the county. They were families well-versed in warfare, houses that poured unceasing effort into peacetime training. Ahental, by contrast, maintained the quality of its knight order through financial power, but could fairly be said to lack experience in war.

The door clicked open, and Viscount Ahental walked in. The vassals watched him with tense eyes. Before long, Ayres entered as well. Every vassal in the room looked puzzled.

"Sir Adol chose death. He left a will stating that all the wrongdoing was his own."

"That can't be!"

Naturally, the vassals' gazes gathered on Ayres. He had no choice but to endure those looks, thick with suspicion.

Because of that stupid warlock...

With this, even if he explained himself, a stain of suspicion would remain that could never be wiped away. The dead tell no tales. He had lost a great deal from this affair — the trust of his subordinates, his clean reputation, and the right-hand man who had been like his own limbs. And a filthy rumor besides. Some of the vassals who placed great weight on justification might even withdraw their support.

Ayres looked at Messi with murder in his eyes. Messi looked back at him. That the two of them were finished was obvious enough that a passing dog would have known it. Ereb, infuriatingly, was smirking at Messi's side. Ayres ground his teeth inwardly.

Little brother, even this small fight of ours will soon come to an end.

"Ayres. Have you anything to say about this matter?"

"It is largely my fault for failing to notice that a subordinate had gone astray and leaving him to it. I am deeply grieved."

"Is that all?"

"Yes. With this, all suspicion against me has been cleanly cleared. I would ask that there be no further talk of it."

There was no chance of that. The only reason he said such a thing was for internal control — so that the vassals who supported him would not start having second thoughts. The viscount did not pick a fight over it. He intended to leave this matter to Benedict and Messi now. It was time to raise the more immediate problem.

"The Krombell side has proposed a marriage alliance to us."

"...!"

"A marriage alliance between Krombell and Ahental!"

A single sentence was enough. The vassals surged forward in excitement.

"Is that not the very best outcome?"

"Indeed! Seeking royal notarization means they intend to firmly back the young lady's succession!"

"What a blessing this is. A great calamity has turned into a great fortune!"

Utter pandemonium. Men who that very afternoon had been talking of killing or sparing Krombell were now all in favor of a marriage alliance with them. An enemy was a bastard, but as ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠an ally, there was no more reliable force. The subsidiary terms — seven hundred gold in ransom and compensation, and three hundred territory residents to be sent as laborers — were not even mentioned.

The viscount let out a sigh. The proposal was attractive even to him.

If we enter an alliance with House Krombell, the family's prosperity will reach the heavens.

The reason nobles spent money throwing social gatherings day and night was not because they were full of vanity. Building connections and solidifying relationships translated into a house's power, and the mixing of blood that took place there conferred trust.

There is also the fact that we can avoid war. The lie we told about Bacillus would eventually come to light if war broke out...

Historically, a house without a Sword Master had almost never defeated a house that possessed one. It wasn't that it had never happened. But even in victory, the damage was so catastrophic that the house never recovered and was destroyed. House Ahental stood a strong chance of meeting the same fate. In that case, rather...

Would it not be better to hand over the Einhartz Mana Cultivation Method and have Krombell guarantee our safety and future?

He was startled by his own thoughts.

To think such things... I really have grown old.

The viscount's mind was in turmoil. He had probably already lost a thick handful of hair. He needed other opinions. He wanted the counsel of someone wiser than himself.

"Are there any opposing views?"

A rustle. When the viscount spoke, three hands went up.

"..."

"..."

Everyone fell silent. They had never expected to see those three standing together in their lifetime.

Ereb, Messi... and Ayres...?

The most bewildered of all were the vassals.

"First Young Master? Why would you oppose..."

Ayres was the one who represented the vassals' interests. That was why the viscount's own faction of vassals supported the First Young Master. And yet the First Young Master had raised his hand in opposition.

"Ayres. I would hear your reasoning first."

At the viscount's designation, Ayres opened his mouth as if he had been ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠waiting.

"You're all being terribly naive. Have you ever once seen those Krombell bastards do anything for our sake? Baron Hugo, did you see it?"

"Ahem..."

"This marriage alliance may look like an equal partnership, but that is an illusion. It is merely a form in which we would be absorbed into House Krombell's sphere of influence."

"First Young Master, you exaggerate."

"Does it seem like exaggeration? They are people who possess a Sword Master. Now imagine they complete the Einhartz Mana Cultivation Method. Could we stand against them?"

"And what of it? That would mean Ahental's ally growing stronger."

"What a convenient way of thinking. Without even considering all the shit we've fed each other over the years. To think a single marriage alliance would rewrite that entire history."

The First Young Master had been having a hard time of late, but his voice still carried weight. The room seemed to sink into thought, recalling the war of nerves they had waged with Krombell all this time.

"Imagine it. After the marriage alliance, those people will use Erena and her heir as pretexts to make demand after demand. Vast sums of money will flow in that direction, and the gap will only keep widening."

"The succession would have the royal notarization..."

"A royal notarization is nothing but a scrap of paper in the end. Do you think Krombell would so much as blink if they could smash Ahental to pieces and absorb it? Would the royal court impose sanctions on Krombell?"

At Ayres's outburst, several vassals' expressions soured. Not because they had been persuaded, but more out of resistance. The existence of an outstanding heir they could not control had begun to grate on them. But Ayres had his reasons for this.

There must be a war. If I use the Red Cross this time to dispose of Ereb and Krombell, I will never have to worry about them again.

He had formed a political alliance with his father's vassals out of necessity, but once he eliminated his younger brother and established military merit to confirm himself as the undisputed heir, he would no longer need to watch anyone's face. In a sense, he had staked everything on this war.

"I have heard you well. You are right. Our house does not believe in things that cannot be seen. Krombell's pledges and notarizations may well be illusions before overwhelming power."

"But my lord, that is a stretch. If we cannot even trust a royal notarization or a marriage alliance, then what can we trust?"

"Baron Denver. Your words are also right."

Viscount Ahental behaved like a man arguing both sides. The burden of considering everything and making the decision was his, and his shoulders were heavy.

The easy path, or the hard path... The family's great plan for the future rests on this choice.

The remaining opinions were Ereb's and Messi's. The viscount's gaze turned to Messi first.

When the viscount asked for his opinion, Messi shook his head.

"The First Young Master has already said everything I would have said. However, I do have something to add regarding the Einhartz Mana Cultivation Method."

"...?"

Come to think of it, the only person here who had actually learned the Einhartz Mana Cultivation Method was Messi. The vassals and the assembled knights showed interest. Messi saw their blind spot there. They could not truly grasp what it would mean for that method to be completed — how threatening it would actually be. Even if it was a lie, he needed to plant a sense of crisis in them.

"Even at the time of the Squire test, you all saw that I was still at the Brave Stage."

"That is so."

Even the vassals who had not seen it themselves had heard it in passing, so they nodded.

"But now, roughly ten days after learning the Einhartz Mana Cultivation Method... what if I told you my realm had risen?"

"..."

At such an absurd claim, the room went cold.