Chapter 215
Chapter 215
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 215
Chapter Title: The Margrave of Libyé, Erbe de Carvelier (4)
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* * *
It had become less a conference and more a banquet hall by now. The nobles who refused to pledge loyalty to the duke had all fled their territories and withdrawn their troops, and the guards sternly protecting this massive hall were soldiers under the duke's knights.
And in this hall, alcohol and food kept streaming in without end. The beastfolk tiger tribe led by Kirhas seemed finally to have relaxed, laughing heartily as they shared drinks, occasionally grabbing bites alongside the duke's soldiers.
Kirhas herself was laughing with a cup in hand. All the heated diplomatic frictions and conference talks seemed neatly tucked away in some corner; she was chatting with the duke about all sorts of odd topics.
"So, this is really Asias mountain tobacco, Duke?"
"Ah, the finest quality."
"You're a good man, Duke!"
Kirhas giggled like a child, gently rolling the finely cured leaves between her fingertips.
Fernandez chuckled at the sight. That was just about her only indulgence these days.
It might even be called a new habit. It stemmed from Kadan's influence fully freeing itself in Mumto's dimension.
The talents and fragments Kirhas had possessed in her "past life" within Mumto's dimension had overlapped with her alongside Kadan.
The backlash from that, perhaps. In truth, Fernandez couldn't help but rate Kirhas highly. Anyone in such a situation would have their personality twisted or their mind torn apart.
Yet Kirhas had adapted astonishingly smoothly, and her smoking was merely part of that process.
Fernandez took a cup offered by the tiger tribe warriors and gazed for a moment at the pitiful beastfolk girl.
A woman who could have become a great hero on her own. He had forcibly bonsai'd that sprout, shaping its growth.
The finished product... was merely a replica of the original. No matter how beautifully adorned, it fell far short in stature from the karma of her past life, where she had overcome all trials by her own strength.
Even so, she had stood firm and grown upright. That sight was so grateful, so admirable. Fernandez often felt his heart soften when he looked at her.
"Huh? Where are you going?"
"Just to get some air."
Fernandez declined the warriors' cups and headed to a corner of the hall, toward the terrace.
Because it was a banquet in a crumbling territory—the first in ages—even the soldiers were in high spirits, and no one paid Fernandez any mind.
* * *
Night. Even in the desolate western territory, the spring breeze blew softly. Fernandez pulled back his hood, ran a hand through his graying hair, and leaned on the railing.
Torches flickered along the road. Far beyond the outer walls, withdrawing armies were visible. Impressively swift. Like rats fleeing a sinking ship.
Those were people who had always been ready to bolt from this territory at any moment; now was simply the perfect timing.
-Hurk.
Cool liquid slid down his throat. Bitter, sweet, spicy. The harsh alcohol surged up, then smoothly flowed down. Fine stuff.
The only regrettable part was that Demonica didn't get drunk on liquor.
"Shall I bring more alcohol?"
And that Demonica weren't so oblivious as to need time to sink into quiet thought.
Fernandez didn't turn his head, keeping his gaze fixed on the darkness beyond the terrace.
"No need."
"Some snacks, then..."
"No need for that either."
"My apologies. I'll leave you to..."
"Your gracious hospitality is appreciated, Lady of the Duke."
A stiffening presence flinched. Soon, a soft sigh escaped. As if deciding no longer to hide, she approached with clicking heels and leaned on the railing beside Fernandez.
Soon, red hair swayed in the night breeze. Fernandez didn't bother looking at her, but she downed the cup she'd brought, undid her hairnet, and cracked her neck.
"Strange, isn't it? My disguise was so perfect even your retainers didn't notice."
"Either your retainers are dull, or they knew and pretended not to."
"Are you insulting me as a fool?"
"I'm no imperial noble. Beating around the bush with insults isn't my style."
As Fernandez spoke, he turned his gaze. Rene stiffened once more at the sight of his face.
From the back or profile, she'd thought him unmistakably middle-aged, thanks to his unkempt hair.
Graying hair, but beneath it—an ironically youthful face, as if freshly come of age.
Distinctly aristocratic features, thick and hinting at noble blood.
And—
"Your eyes are intriguing, sir."
Somewhere enlightened, or somehow melancholic blue eyes. Rene stared piercingly into them for a moment.
"Your name?"
"Fernin."
"Not your real name, I take it."
"That's all you need know for now."
"Unfair. You know me."
Rene smiled brightly and raised her cup. After a sip, she slowly turned her head to gaze at the torches beyond the outer walls.
"From the east, right?"
"Dane."
"That regional accent. Lived long in the Empire? Your imperial accent's flawless."
Nearly a lifetime? Fernandez had wandered the eastern kingdom alliances, but he'd spent most of his prime near the Empire.
Clashing endlessly with Darian because of it. But the fondest memories of his life were mostly in imperial cities.
He said nothing, simply gazing beyond the terrace. This once-barren wasteland now had mild, even slightly humid winds blowing.
Like turning wasteland to grassland. An era of much change, much mingling.
Fernandez stared outward, with the hero who should have been emperor—and warlord—standing behind him as an old man.
"Your doing?"
"We merely went along with it."
"Not easy putting the great chieftain of the tiger tribe on stage up there."
"Fortunately, we had a prior acquaintance."
"What do you want? It doesn't add up financially. Military support—we have no troops to spare for you. Look at them leaving."
She gazed at the torches filling the streets, blazing gorgeously.
Once, Libyé—and Carvelier—had been the mightiest territory, one of the greatest margraviates.
Ever since the emperor's interest vanished from the west after the Fifty Years' War ended. Or more precisely, now that nothing—not even a blade of grass—remained to gain from the west.
How long would the remaining vassals hold out? Humans crave gold and honor; they were human, and this region had neither left.
A crumbling territory. Ruined farmlands. Scattered bandits and mercenaries. Fractured populace and starving tenant farmers—visions unfolded before her eyes.
Yet she wouldn't break. Fernandez glanced at Rene's profile. Even in that moment, this woman wouldn't break.
Under the dark night, torchlight reflected in her eyes, blazing more brilliantly than ever.
"What does the lady desire? A stable life? A peaceful territory?"
"Ha, as if."
"Revenge, then?"
"On them? Not worth it, and they don't deserve it. They're just acting on human nature. If anything, the greatsword nobles who stayed are the odd ones, no?"
Rene turned to meet Fernandez's gaze.
She paused, looking into his eyes, then averted hers slightly and spoke.
"You know? The emperor's a very family man."
"......"
"And realistic, political, and extremely ruthless. A clever one. Being an elected emperor means you can't be ignorant of politics from the start."
She slowly lifted her chin. Her beautiful hair rustled in the breeze. Gazing at the night sky, she said,
"That's why the current emperor is convinced his successor can't come from his own house. All his achievements have evaporated with the massive capital sunk into the west over long years."
"So the emperor wants war?"
"Where's left to conquer? North? South?"
"East."
"Right. That's what you want? Your lot. Wasteland's rival great chieftains, phantom legions, tiger tribe rebels... You brought tales like that. No—at least that beastwoman's aim might be that. But not yours."
She turned her gaze to Fernandez. Slowly, she brought her cup to clink against his.
"Your eyes. Gazing so far away. I like them. By beastfolk tradition, we've shared cups. You're the tiger tribe's envoy. So now, we're friends."
"Checking the emperor counts as the duke's will too?"
"Ahaha, how could my will differ from my father's?"
Rene smiled brightly and slowly extended her hand toward Fernandez. Her pale fingers rested atop his rough, scar-covered, sturdy hand.
"What I want... You asked what I desire. I want the emperor's downfall."
"I doubt it."
"Same thing. The emperor's downfall, and his house's. The humiliation my father—who served the throne his whole life with loyalty—endured. The price for that. The honor and reward that should have gone to him. So..."
"You aim for the throne?"
"We're friends now, right?"
-A threat.
'And a real one at that.'
Fernandez agreed with Feizashi. The kind of woman who'd send a poisoned teacup if you refused friendship. Her blazing eyes gleamed like a lion's.
Fernandez smiled, raised his cup, and deftly slipped his hand from hers.
"Dane native, Albert."
"Rene Philippa de Carvelier."
-Clink.
Their cups met. The sound drowned in the banquet's raucous music, merry shouts, clattering dishes. And the darkness under the night sky.
The two smiled whitely.
'Heroes are heroes, after all.'
-Very bold. I like her immensely.
* * *
When Fernandez returned, the thoroughly drunk warriors and knights were mingling, gulping down liquor. Literally scooping it up and swallowing.
One knight spotted Fernandez and called out gladly.
"Oh, a mighty warrior graces us! Sit! Come here!"
The knight laughed heartily and poured into his empty cup.
"Impressive strength. How'd you lift that giant with one hand and hurl him? Wasteland martial art?"
"Something like that."
"I'd love to experience it! I've rolled around everywhere, but never been picked up and thrown!"
He chattered loudly, clinking his cup against Fernandez's. A clear ching rang out.
"Borel of Bille! Pleased to meet you!"
-Black Bear Borel?
'Seems like him.'
-Era full of remarkable characters, as always.
'One in every other house, yeah.'
As the end times neared, famed heroes became commonplace. Borel had been one of the past-life emperor's loyalists too. So it wasn't odd for him to be in Duke Erbe's retinue now.
Fernandez shared cups while gazing at the young version of that gruff knight who had slain countless of his own subordinates.
Originally, friends were potential foes. Feizashi preferred keeping enemies closer than friends anyway. So Fernandez found the sight heartening.
"Pleased. Call me Fernin."
"Haha, good! Here! More drink! Fernin, knowing men like you will fight on the same front soon makes my heart all the more steadfast!"
"Indeed. Seeing you knights gives me the same feeling."
Heroes being common meant healthy soil. Duke Erbe—as their soil—remaining strong thus far meant his plan had high chances of success.
The plan to create heroes and dethrone the emperor.
"Let's go crush those bones together!"
Fernandez smiled faintly and nodded.
It was the night the conference succeeded.
* * *