Chapter 224: A Land of Sighted Blinds (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 224: A Land of Sighted Blinds (3)
Jacklin buried his face in his hands.
His shoulders shook as he sobbed, unable to stem the tide of despair brought on by overwhelming emotion.
"...I am sorry. I am truly sorry. I never imagined Count Rondon was working so hard for us. No, I simply never thought about it at all. Because everyone called him a traitor, I doubted the intentions behind every act of kindness he showed us."
Born a commoner, Jacklin had lived a life no different from anyone else's.
Rather than planning for a distant future, surviving day-to-day was his only priority. Living that way, starting a family and providing for his children had become his entire world. It was a suffocating reality. Knowing his circumstances wouldn't change no matter how hard he struggled, his discontent had only festered with time.
He became narrow-minded, his vision growing shortsighted.
The occasional success stories of others felt like fairy tales from a distant land, completely detached from his reality.
"Ugh... what on earth should I do? Please, tell me. I don't know. Even after committing such a terrible crime, I still find it so hard to accept this reality."
He was merely an ordinary man.
By pure chance, he had become the hero of Redford. It wasn't because he was particularly special that he was able to lead the people; rather, it was precisely because he was so ordinary that they resonated with his words. Jacklin was simply the one who had been manipulated. In truth, anyone could have easily replaced him in that role.
His face was stained with tears.
As Roman Dmitry forced him to face reality, Jacklin's expression contorted in agony, looking like a man whose entire world had collapsed. As an ordinary citizen used to a mundane, repetitive life, he lacked the mental fortitude to process this sequence of events.
He was utterly broken.
He wailed, weeping bitterly without caring about the onlookers.
Silence descended upon the space.
The crowd could not utter a single word. They could neither blame Jacklin nor comfort him. For they were no different. Projecting themselves onto the broken man, they ultimately left the judgment of this situation entirely in Roman Dmitry's hands.
Roman Dmitry finally spoke.
"Jacklin. You, too, have your own story. The riot that attacked Count Rondon was not for personal gain, and by distributing the stolen gold coins to the people, you proved your reasons for taking up arms. However..."
Slowly, he raised his sword.
Despite the panicked stares of the crowd, he leveled the blade at Jacklin's neck.
"No matter the reason, it cannot excuse your actions. You were manipulated into attacking Count Rondon's carriage, and in the process, innocent soldiers were killed. They, too, had families. Even if you started a riot for the sake of your own, your misunderstanding caused the families of those soldiers to lose their sole breadwinners and sons. How do you propose to pay for that? Even if you plead with tears, the dead will not return."
He looked at the crowd.
These words were not meant for Jacklin alone. Jacklin was merely the representative; Roman Dmitry's words were directed at everyone who had participated in the riot.
"What is done is done. If Redford is to avoid repeating this precedent, we cannot gloss over the responsibility of one's actions under the guise of a mistake. Jacklin. You are not the 'Hero of Redford' whom the people revere. You are merely a murderer who committed a crime through a single mistake, and I will hold you accountable."
Jacklin squeezed his eyes shut.
He accepted his death.
Though his trembling body proved he was but a fragile human, the memory of Count Rondon's blood on his hands flickered in his mind. Because of his single mistake, a man who had dedicated his life to the Redford Kingdom had almost died. If he had put just a little more strength into his blow, the bleeding Count Rondon would have never risen again.
He clenched his teeth.
At the very least, he would not run from what he had done.
"Citizens of Redford, listen. Remember this day. Though Jacklin may not be your hero, he will remain the benefactor who took your sins upon himself and accepted death. In the future, should you repeat this mistake, bear in mind that there will be no one like Jacklin to take the blame in your stead."
In that moment—
Flash.
He swung his sword.
A man far too ordinary to be called a hero.
Thus, spraying blood, Jacklin collapsed to the ground.
* * *
At that same hour.
Count Rondon led his forces toward the royal palace.
He did not wish for bloodshed that would plunge the nation into chaos, but now, there was no other way.
'The people's anger has reached its peak. For now, it was only an attack on me, a mere noble, but if we do not resolve the fundamental issue, uncontrollable chaos will sweep over us sooner or later. Ultimately, for the future of the Redford Kingdom, someone must take up arms and drag the King of Redford from his throne.'
Even as he marched, his mind was plunged into endless turmoil.
While he now agreed with the goal of dethroning the King, Roman Dmitry wanted him to usurp the throne and become king himself. That was a different matter entirely. The King of Redford had a prince who worried deeply for the nation's safety. Whenever he recalled the face of the prince—who had told him he was willing to support a rebellion for the sake of the country—doubts arose as to whether following Roman Dmitry's words was the right path.
Under the same sky, the royal bloodline could not have two branches.
If he overthrew the king and claimed the throne, he would inevitably have to take the prince's life.
'For what purpose am I instigating this rebellion?'
There was only one purpose. The safety of the nation.
Judging the situation with cold rationality, the Prince of Redford was not fit for the throne.
In times of chaos, a leader who could restore order was needed, but the passing years had proven that the prince was politically unremarkable. Even his request for Rondon to lead the rebellion was tantamount to admitting that, while he knew the King's actions were wrong, he lacked the power and capability to overturn the situation himself.
At this crossroads of choice, he steeled his resolve.
The moment they stormed the royal palace with weapons in hand, even a split second of hesitation would ruin everything.
'I am sorry, Your Highness.'
The choice was the leader's burden. If only for the sake of those who followed him, Count Rondon would waver no longer.
"Knight Commander."
"Speak, my Lord."
"The moment we enter the palace, we will demand a single conversation. If the Royal Knights loyal to His Majesty show hostility toward us, do not hesitate to take the Royal Knight Commander's head and suppress his troops at once. Remember, this is ultimately a fight that eats away at Redford's own flesh. If we cannot secure both the process and the outcome, Redford will have no choice but to fall into ruin."
"...Understood."
The Knight Commander's expression grew heavy.
Although the Rondon Knights and the Royal Knights shared close ties, he showed no hesitation in obeying the command of Count Rondon. This was something he had always wished for. Watching Count Rondon dedicate himself to the country, people had always thought that if a man like him were the King of Redford, their reality would be vastly different.
Finally, they arrived at the royal palace.
However, the guards opened the gates as if they had been waiting for them.
"Please, enter."
Beyond the gates, the Royal Knights stood in waiting. Upon spotting Count Rondon, they knelt.
"The Redford Royal Knights exist to protect the royal family," their commander said. "We know that opposing His Majesty is High Treason, yet we have made a decision to set the country right. We will close our eyes and cover our ears here. Therefore, please achieve what you desire. Do what must be done for Redford, for this country."
Count Rondon's decision.
It seemed those who wished for it were not just the people of the Rondon family.
* * *
The people of the royal palace.
They, too, had heard the rumors. Although the public clamored that Count Rondon was a traitor, the information flowing into the palace told a different story.
He was the hope of Redford.
In the face of financial collapse, Count Rondon had dedicated himself to the country to the point where the vast wealth his family had accumulated over generations was nearly depleted. His actions stood in stark contrast to the King's. Unlike the King, who frequented gambling dens daily, squandering money on women and alcohol, Count Rondon took charge of the duties the monarch should have performed.
That was why they opened the gates.
They did so even knowing the meaning of the royal sword's existence, and even knowing that turning a blind eye would diminish their own honor.
The Royal Knight Commander closed his eyes.
Though he could not bring himself to actively join the rebellion, he judged that preventing bloodshed during Count Rondon's ascension to the throne was the best course of action for the Redford Kingdom.
Thanks to this, Count Rondon was able to pass through safely. He walked down the long corridor he usually traversed to report to the King, followed by his armed soldiers exuding a grim aura.
This day.
How would future generations remember it?
Some might call him a rebel who instigated a coup, but the records of history were of little importance to him. To the man who had been called a traitor, the safety of Redford was always the utmost priority. No matter what he was called, Count Rondon merely did what he believed was right.
Creak.
He pushed open the heavy doors.
As the knights of his family cleared the path, Count Rondon stepped into the King's royal chamber, his expression stiff and tense.
In that instant, Count Rondon's face contorted in sheer shock.
On the throne he had always looked up to, the King of Redford sat with a pale, lifeless face, his head slumped forward.
* * *
A pale face. Dark blood dripping from his mouth.
The King was dead.
Confronted with this incomprehensible reality, Count Rondon discovered what appeared to be a suicide note left on the King's desk.
[Count Rondon. Upon hearing that you were attacked, I could not contain my anger toward myself. This chaos was born of my failures as the King of Redford. Knowing that you dedicated yourself entirely to Redford, I was filled with rage at the days I spent turning a blind eye.]
It was strange.
The tone of the letter was entirely different from the incompetent King the people spoke of.
[In truth, I had a reason for living such a dissolute life. People say the deaths of my children were unfortunate accidents, but behind them lay an evil force threatening the safety of Redford. Not content with killing my eldest son, they also took the life of my young daughter. And then, one day, they sent me a letter. Their threat was simple: if I did not frequent the gambling dens daily and live a debauched life, they would kill my last remaining son. In fact, my second son has already been poisoned. He remains unaware of this because I feed him the antidote I receive from them each time, but if I show even the slightest righteous attitude for the sake of the country, my second son will die immediately.]
It was a hidden truth.
Information that even Count Rondon had not known was written in this note.
[I am an incompetent king. I failed to fulfill my duties as a monarch, and as a father, I selfishly prioritized only the safety of my children. But now, I realize I can no longer do so. If I grow any greedier in trying to protect my bloodline, countless people in Redford will lose their lives. Count Rondon. You are the leader Redford desires. If I step down from the throne, Redford will quickly regain stability around you. Therefore, do not stain your hands with blood. I will take my own life so that these evil forces can no longer threaten me. Please, take care of this country I have ruined.]
"...What on earth is this?"
The hand holding the letter trembled. Count Rondon clenched his teeth and read the final line.
[Lastly, I pray you do not forcibly take what remains of the prince's life. He is a child whose days are already numbered anyway.]
That was the end of it.
Count Rondon clutched the letter tightly. It was the same. Just as Jacklin had been ignorant of the truth about him, Count Rondon too had been blind to the King's truth.
He was a truly irresponsible man.
Dying like this did not erase the misdeeds the King had committed, but as Count Rondon, there was something he had to do.
"Find the prince immediately! We must inform him of this."
The life that remained.
Even if that time was short, Count Rondon wanted the prince to know the truth about the incompetent King whom the people condemned.
Incompetent though he may have been, the King of Redford was, in the end, merely a father trying to protect his son.