Chapter 213
Chapter 213
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 213
Chapter Title: Libye's Elector, Erb de Carvelier (2)
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* * *
The meeting dragged on amid a hazy tension.
Everyone present except for one person had no fears of the talks collapsing, so the source of the tension hanging in the air stemmed solely from the wariness of the duke's retainers.
And the one person fretting over the potential failure of the negotiations let out a deep sigh. At the sight, Kirhas's delicate eyebrows twitched.
"What's wrong, Duke?"
"I'm grateful for your words, Great Chieftain. Hm..."
Duke Erb scratched his chin, trying to mask his anxiety with an air of nonchalance. But the gesture only made him look all the more pathetic.
This aged duke, far removed from politics and thus choosing submission to the central regime over the rights of an elector, gave a feeble smile.
"I have no troops."
"Your Grace!!"
His retainers erupted in shock and murmurs. No troops? What a ridiculous excuse. The assembled nobles, quasi-nobles, and domain knights here could muster around five thousand elite soldiers ready to march at a moment's notice.
And to Kirhas, who had seen the countless barracks outside the castle walls upon entering Erb, it was laughable as well. She scowled and spoke coldly.
"That's a pretty pathetic excuse."
"...It's a delicate matter to bring up, but the war is over. I'm no longer the supreme commander of the imperial legions. That's a plain fact with no room for excuses."
It was remarkably blunt for words spoken before outsiders—military strongmen sharing a border, no less—and right in front of his own retainers who held the troops.
-Is that guy an idiot?
It bordered on political suicide. Beneath his deeply hooded cowl, Fernandez subtly shook his head.
'An elector can't possibly lack political savvy.'
-Politics or governance, he seems developmentally stunted.
'No. He's given up. If he were truly an idiot, he'd have boasted upon seeing the troops lined up outside his walls, claiming them as his own army. Duke Erb is wiser than he seems.'
From the shadow of his hood, Fernandez regarded Duke Erb. There sat a man of imposing build, teetering on the boundary between old age and middle age.
They said he'd once been a bold knight-lord ruling a region in his youth. With imperial western expeditions dragging on since his early childhood, he was essentially a war hero.
He'd spent his boyhood in army camps, inherited his father's position unscathed amid fierce warfare, and retained his retainers' loyalty. No such man could be incompetent.
Yet conversely, he'd deemed himself too old to choose a new path in life and given up. Lacking the drive for a fresh start beyond the western expeditions.
A general who'd devoted his life solely to legion command and war... Fernandez knew Duke Erb. Or rather, he knew his life—and his daughter.
'In his past life, Erb was no incompetent fool.'
-His daughter even surpassed her father in diplomatic acumen.
'Right. She had an incredible sense of balance.'
Rene Philippa. If history had followed its original course...
'She would have become empress.'
Riding the overflowing national wealth and mighty military authority from the prolonged western expeditions, she would have navigated the fierce tug-of-war among electors and border nobles to challenge for the throne—and seized it herself despite her youth.
After ascending, she oversaw the end of civilized society and its fragmentation. Amid that turbulent era, she steadfastly endured invasions from pagan hordes sweeping in from both north and south.
She had personally toured the burning empire under the banners of Erik the pitch-black and Great Khan Karadskhar, rallying it into unity. One of humanity's shining heroes in civilized society.
The woman who should have followed that original history... was now losing her light and plummeting before she could even bloom, due to the western expedition's collapse.
-Well, this is still too early in the timeline.
'Sixteen? Not that young. We left our domain alone at sixteen.'
-Sounds independent if someone overhears. Think back to our past life. We started as slaves.
'I'll amend it to servants.'
Fernandez chuckled softly and scanned the room. After the duke's declaration, he could sense dissatisfaction stirring among the retainers.
He closed his eyes, bowed his head beneath the hood, and focused his hearing.
A Demonica's hearing could pick up even the rustle of fabric from the farthest person. In this confined space with external noise blocked, it was even sharper.
Thus, Fernandez had been capturing, classifying every whisper among the retainers since earlier.
[His Grace must be senile...]
Such complaints.
[What stunning beauty.]
Such greed.
[...Father.]
Even whispers like that. With a scowl, Fernandez approached Kirhas, who was glaring at the duke.
Judging by her swishing tail, she was glaring for now but unsure how to proceed.
Kirhas was honest to a fault and soft on the elderly. She had strong protective instincts and boundless mercy for the weak, the old, and the sincere.
So, she missed the moment to shout sternly. And that backfired.
To outsiders, it looked like the foreign great chieftain was silently threatening the duke with her glare.
Fernandez whispered quietly into Kirhas's ear.
"Great Chieftain. It might be best to call for a recess."
"Hahaha!"
Kirhas, rigid with tension, suddenly burst into laughter. As Fernandez looked at her in surprise, she realized her mistake mid-laugh—her clear, tension-free mirth—and quickly hardened her face.
In an instant, she adopted a sharp, seductive expression and slowly extended her hand.
Her fingertip touched his chin with a click.
"Oh dear, Fernin. Don't surprise me like that; it tickles."
"...Great Chieftain."
"Tsk. I told you to call me Kirhas."
-Fernin?
'Fernin?'
Fernandez flinched for a moment. He could feel Feizashi thrashing over there.
-Damn you, Beitasser! If you're going to split souls, you should have made spare organs too! It's disgusting, but I can't even vomit!
'Shut up, Feizashi.'
-Fine, fine. 'Fernin.'
'Ah, please.'
Ignoring the snickering Feizashi, Fernandez whispered to Kirhas again.
"...Kirhas. I have something to say. It might be best to call for a recess."
"Hm? Something just for us?"
"Yes."
"Hahat, you rascal. Can't that wait until my chambers later? Very well. Come to my chambers tonight."
"...Kirhas."
Kirhas gazed at Fernandez with a sticky, sultry expression. Fernandez admired her perfectly decadent great chieftain's face.
She had the makings of a leader. For better or worse.
Yet she still hadn't hidden her tail, which was trembling visibly.
Caught somewhere between joy and dignity, her tail twitched oddly, as if malfunctioning.
Fernandez let out a heavy sigh and slowly stepped back. Kirhas, grinning mischievously like a child about to be punished, turned to the duke with delight.
The duke peered down at them with a bewildered expression.
"You two make such a lovely couple...?"
"Ah, something like that. So, Duke, since my 'concubine' requests it, may we take a short recess?"
"Of course. I've had refreshments prepared in the parlor. Rest easy. We'll reconvene in an hour."
The duke glanced at them, then abruptly stood and strode off somewhere. His retainers followed in a cluster.
Kirhas flashed a cheeky grin, like a prankster bracing for reprimand.
"Follow me!"
She bounded off. Fernandez chuckled and trailed after her.
* * *
"Benefactor! How was it? Pretty convincing, right? Huh?"
After shooing away all the servants, Kirhas bounced over excitedly. Fernandez took a step back and pushed her away.
"Fernin?"
"Ah, that. You know how Inquisitors do! That, uh. Right, code names! Nickname codes, yeah, code names."
If there were Inquisitors making pet names into code names, he'd bust them down to lay priests somehow. Fernandez vowed as much while looking down at Kirhas. She beamed.
"So, it was convincing, right?"
"Yeah. You did well."
"That's nothing! But earlier, I was shocked... I mean, how does a duke just announce to his retainers in front of outsiders that he has no troops? Isn't that a court-martial offense?"
"Kirhas. That was closer to a desperate gamble—a highly risky plea for support."
Fernandez poured tea into a cup in the corner of the parlor and handed it to Kirhas as he spoke.
"Do you remember me explaining the duke's position?"
"Yes, like a kite with its string cut."
"Right. And nobles are profoundly political creatures. Especially vassal bands like these in a border duchy, packed with frontier nobles—they're astonishingly opportunistic."
Fernandez chuckled and sat across from her, speaking leisurely as if instructing a granddaughter.
"Vassal-lord relations are fundamentally contracts of mutual benefit: protection, manpower, and profit. A very cold arrangement. For a sinking ship, the crew staying aboard aren't loyal to the vessel—they're just fools. They're all calculating furiously in their heads right now."
Fernandez glanced toward the parlor beyond and continued.
"Whether to gamble by staying or jump to another great noble's service."
Both viable options. The duke's downfall seemed irreversible, and since his personal guard couldn't surpass the retainers' combined forces, the balance had already tipped.
In such circumstances, those lingering were either fools or schemers. The duke still held various imperial grants, and despite shaky public order, some manors remained intact.
The first group: jackals. Predators eyeing the duke's remaining flesh.
"Border nobles itching to claim the ducal title through marriage are a dime a dozen."
The duke had a clever, beautiful daughter. That would enhance her value atop the duke's own background.
But Fernandez could assure: they were the most foolish lot. More than the loyalists even.
"The duke's daughter is no pushover. Depending on the situation, sure, a marriage alliance might work. But whichever noble swallows Lady Carvelier won't enjoy a peaceful old age."
Especially considering peak Kirhas, who rose from slavery to great chieftain on her own. 'Hero' carries extra weight in those days, after all.
Libye Archduke's lady. Rene Philippa de Carvelier was no one to crumble under trials like these.
"You're rating her awfully high, Benefactor."
Kirhas narrowed her eyes. Fernandez shrugged and sipped his tea.
"The Carvelier father and daughter are among the few in this domain who can meet us eye to eye."
Both of them. He hoped that held true even now. Fernandez swallowed his tea and closed his eyes.
* * *
"Father!! What on earth was that madness!"
Flaming red locks surged and scattered before Duke Erb's eyes. He smiled weakly down at his most precious treasure.
Beautiful emerald-green eyes sparkling, red hair. Just like his late wife. All the more fortunate for it—unlike his own coarse features, she was flawless and lovely.
And that made it hurt all the more. When her anger turned on him, it felt like his wife scolding him. And knowing she might fall to those pig-like, jackal nobles...
"Rene. Sit down."
"I'll stand and listen!"
"I'll sit."
"...I'll sit too."
At her father's gentle voice, Rene lowered her gaze and took her seat.
One couldn't call her heart pure, but at least she never abandoned those she cherished. And her father had cared for her more devotedly than any parent. Unlike the surrounding nobles.
To grand imperial nobles, daughters were mere political tools. Unlike eastern, northern, or other western 'barbarians,' the empire was ruthlessly conservative.
Wise enough from childhood to realize this, and perceptive enough to see her father wasn't like that.
"Father. Why did you do it? If those western warlords leave now, how will you placate the retainers?"
"It was bound to happen anyway."
Duke Erb sipped his tea and said.
"Even without the Tiger Clan's great chieftain suddenly demanding military aid. The retainers would disband soon enough, and I'd either hang you out as merchandise to hold my position or watch our house crumble into peasantry. One or the other. The great chieftain was just... a lucky dinner guest at the right time."
"You're betting on a dinner guest?"
"Didn't anything seem off?"
Duke Erb slowly set down his teacup.
"The great chieftain's conduct was hardly proper, but every posture. From how she sat to how she gestured to her subordinates. Her manners were near flawless throughout."
"She just seemed like a thug."
"No, that's mere acting, daughter. Never take a lord at face value. A lord's true heart doesn't even show in their will."
Erb gazed out the window. Far off, the eastern tower housing the parlor was visible.
"Regardless. The great chieftain's etiquette was nearly perfect. Far more noble than her words suggested. But not imperial nobility. It was... etiquette unique to the eastern kingdoms."
The eastern kingdom alliance had supplied manpower and resources for ages during the Fifty Years' War. Duke Erb had once stood at the pinnacle of that war.
He was politically dull. But in war... he was a lifelong professional soldier. His view of the battlefield spanned instinct and sense.
The generation's greatest field commander smiled faintly.
"It's odd, daughter. Look into her background. I'll remain the fool in the meantime."
"Father. One thing puzzles me."
"What?"
"You say never trust a lord's displayed face. But Father, does that apply to you now too?"
"What are you saying, Rene?"
Duke Erb turned to behold his daughter's beautiful face.
"Am I not your father before I'm a lord?"
I won't make you pay my debts.
But I'll pass my share of happiness to you.
The aged father smiled thus, rose, and strode from his private chambers toward the audience hall.