Chapter 212
Chapter 212
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 212
Chapter Title: Libye's Elector, Erb de Carvelier (1)
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Libye had been the most prosperous city in the empire's borderlands. At least while the war with the Sultanate dragged on. Once the endless fifty-year war finally ground to a halt, the forward bases right behind the front lines decayed with shocking speed.
The nonstop flow of support dried up in an instant. War was a money pit, and the merchants who'd sunk their fortunes into it ended up on the streets or fleeing Libye altogether when peace came.
Every business from mercenary work to logistics, trade, metallurgy and smithing, food supply chains—red lights flashed across the board. Libye, which had thrived on the trade routes of every forward base along the front, could no longer print gold to cover the massive population boom and the resulting security vacuum.
And so, Libye's Elector, Erb de Carvelier, had to find a way out. The golden age of war profiteering was over, leaving only a bill for past glories.
"Your Grace, Lorans is burning!"
To minimize imperial bloodshed, the empire had nationalized the mercenary trade. As a result, the number of unpaid mercenaries after the war had ballooned beyond control.
Unemployed mercenaries were little more than bandits. Which meant dozens of bandit gangs now infested Libye's vast territories.
Meanwhile, the imperial army had pulled out entirely over the past year. Composed of forces from the electors, they had no desire to linger in Libye footing the upkeep bills.
Worse, some electors wanted to see a major rival fall.
"...Military. Do I have any forces left? Adjutant."
"Baron Isidore's troops are still here. Counts Morris and Türen have also offered to aid Your Grace."
The adjutant replied in a voice thick with despair to the duke's parched tone. The duchy’s standing army was already scattered, suppressing bandits and rebels everywhere.
The vassals who'd kept their forces intact during the war stayed in Libye instead of returning home.
Vultures, all of them. The duke let out a heavy sigh, cradling his forehead. Vultures. Under his muster order, they'd mobilized their troops, so by custom, he owed half their upkeep. But he lacked the resources to feed them all.
They wanted one thing: his daughter. The heir to the electorate after his death. In exchange for resolving this crisis, they demanded sovereignty over Libye.
He couldn't allow it. He wouldn't saddle his precious daughter with a failed war business and a crumbling house, all to save his own neck. Clutching his forehead, the duke murmured.
"We need war to survive..."
"Your Grace."
"Human blood keeps us alive—what makes us different from vampires? Tell me, how are we better than vampires, or those lowly mosquitoes...?"
The adjutant bowed his head in silence. Imperial support had ended, and the electors wanted Libye to fall. And his lord was far too frail of heart.
He hadn't lacked talent for war. Quite the opposite—he was a gifted commander. But now, facing his domain's ruin, the old general was weaker than ever.
No hope. The general and adjutant had served together for years; a glance said it all. Despair hung between them.
Then.
"Your Grace! Your Grace!!"
The door to the lord's chamber burst open. A panting page rushed in, sweat streaming down his face, and flung himself at the duke's feet.
"Forgive my rudeness! Your Grace!"
"What is it?"
"An envoy has arrived!!"
"An envoy?"
"From the Tiger Clan Alliance... the Great Chieftain herself requests an audience!"
"What?!"
The duke shot to his feet. In this era of chaos, the mightiest warlord of the Great Wilderness—who'd risen in the interregnum—had come to Libye?
No time to waste. The duke splashed water on his face and threw on his coat.
"Lead the way!"
An unexpected guest in these troubled times. Whether salvation for the domain or the spark to its downfall remained to be seen. But with no variables, ruin was certain. Biting his lip, the duke strode from the room.
* * *
"The empire is a confederation ruled by eight electors."
"Benefactor, it's a bit heavy!"
"The flashier, the better. Imperial nobles don't deal with those who look shabby."
Fernandez spoke as he adorned Kirhas with jewelry. It had to be practical yet dazzling. Sloppy attire wouldn't do when facing electors and bending them to his will.
"If one house claims the throne, the other seven divvy up key posts in the imperial palace. Nominal titles, but power flows from names."
"And the one we're meeting? His position?"
"Supreme Commander of the Imperial Western Expeditionary Force."
Click.
"Gk!"
Fernandez cinched a gold-embellished belt tight around Kirhas's waist. She shook her head wildly, face twisting in agony.
Ignoring her, he knelt at her feet, bowed his head, and retied her shoe laces.
"The most loyal to the crown, a favorite of the emperor. But with the western expedition a failure, the court needed a scapegoat. Even after the peace, his title remains supreme commander."
"But the expeditionary force..."
"Exactly. He's a puppet with cut strings. With the army disbanded, the commander's debts and duties linger. He must settle the mercenaries' back pay scattered everywhere and handle the security crises from troop concentrations. All obligation, no substance."
Kirhas tilted her head.
"But Benefactor, one thing I don't get."
"What?"
"If we're using an elector, wouldn't it be better to start in the imperial east, under the Pope's influence? How does manipulating a falling noble help?"
"Approaching an elector close to the Pope would draw the ire of the secular rulers in the east."
At this moment, with every kingdom watching, if the Beitasser Church—which had called a crusade—suddenly cozied up to an eastern elector, it might look like a bid to conquer the east with imperial backing.
And the war-hungry emperor would fan those flames. For that reason, eastern electors were off-limits.
"Right, details after the talks. You know how to act?"
"Yes, Benefactor. Play the Great Chieftain here to negotiate, ignorant of imperial woes."
Kirhas smiled brightly. Pretend to be an arrogant, overbearing female warlord clueless about Carvelier's loss of military power—that was Fernandez's directive.
And that was one of Kirhas's specialties. She extended a hand to the beastman standing at attention behind her.
"Cigarette."
"Yes, Great Chieftain!"
Snap!
The beastman warrior knelt swiftly, offering a long-stemmed pipe. With a graceful flick, Kirhas took it between her lips and murmured low.
"Benefactor. One last question."
"Go ahead."
"I'm the Great Chieftain, these are my kin. What's your role?"
"Advisor."
At his answer, Kirhas grinned mischievously.
"Will you play the part I prepared?"
"...?"
Knock knock.
A knock echoed from the ornate reception room door. The elector's preparations were complete. The door opened, revealing a neatly dressed page who bowed.
Seated, Kirhas eyed him and exhaled a thick plume of smoke. Then she rose without hesitation. Clink—the jewelry clashed with her movement.
Beneath the room's lantern glow, gold shimmered brilliantly. Above it, Kirhas's turquoise eyes gleamed like a predator's.
"From now on, be my consort. Follow me."
Thud.
She tossed the pipe backward. With so many ears about, Fernandez didn't argue, just bowed and trailed behind her.
Her stern, icy expression belied the thrill—her tail thwacked the floor excitedly.
* * *
Elector Erb sat rigidly, staring at the door to the hall. Even as footsteps approached beyond it, he and his retainers watched in silence.
Tension thickened the air. His vassals here hid neither discontent nor unease. With his authority eroded, those who remained were either loyalists or sycophants.
The loyalists who'd shared battlefields with him for decades spoke bluntly without hesitation, and the sycophants no longer feared his gaze. Watching their unguarded emotions, the duke felt a sudden loneliness.
"The Great Chieftain of the Tiger Clan Alliance, Kirhas Hearttaker, enters!"
Click.
The door handle turned, and the hall doors swung open slowly. At the fore stood a woman with arms crossed, head cocked defiantly.
Retainers swallowed hard. Admiration and lust for her beauty, awe at her presence, wariness of her military might—the emotions swirled through the room.
Kirhas scanned the room coolly, then spoke abruptly.
"Ruler of the Great Wilderness."
Step.
She shoved past the flustered page with one stride. He stumbled back with a yelp. Kirhas took another step forward.
"Conqueror of the spectral dynasties."
"First sovereign baptized by Kadan."
"Lady of the Hunt."
"Undefeated of the Great Wilderness."
Step.
She strode boldly across the crimson silk carpet to the room's center, straight to the seated elector, who froze in shock.
Halting just within sword's reach, Kirhas growled.
"You missed those titles. But that's who your servant announced. Imperial noble. The Great Chieftain of the Tiger Clans seeks you."
"How dare you, you savage!"
A burly noble with a long mustache lunged forward, bellowing. Kirhas turned her head sharply, fixing him with a glare.
"Savage, am I?"
"Uh, er..."
Overwhelmed by her icy eyes, he faltered and retreated. Kirhas clicked her tongue and addressed the rigid elector.
"Your servants lack spine. I trust they're not your best. Elector."
"...Serve refreshments."
Elector Erb gestured to a page. Kirhas quickly interjected.
"Prepare a liquor tray as well. We'll drink when talks end."
Tiger clans served liquor to friends, tea to foes. Recalling the custom, the elector's face hardened. Kirhas chuckled darkly and sauntered to the chair her beastmen had brought, leaning into it.
"Let's begin."
She sank into the seat, crossing her legs with a seductive smile, and extended a hand. A beastman warrior hurried over with her pipe.