Chapter 224
Chapter 224
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 224
Chapter Title: Aftermath (1)
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Rene Philippa couldn't collect her thoughts. Even for a heroine who wouldn't bat an eye at most things, the relentless shocks were too much for a seventeen-year-old girl to bear.
The court mage's face had suddenly changed, and he'd imprisoned her. Magic exploded everywhere, and her long-time home began to crumble.
Just as she debated whether to scream, the sounds of fighting reached her ears, only for the hall to fall silent soon after. Antaen... it probably hadn't been Antaen. An assassin disguised as him, or a spy sent by the Emperor.
Why me? It was foolish and delusional to dwell on such thoughts. Rene was wiser than that. Why had they kidnapped me? The answer to that question was clear.
They'd abducted the Duke's daughter and seized the Archduke's residence. In normal circumstances, such a thing would be impossible. If mere force could transfer the Archduke's title and position, vassals with strong military might would have tried it long ago.
This, therefore, was no normal situation. To pull off something like this without fear of repercussions required a powerful backer. To act against the Elector like this meant the culprit was someone stronger than the Elector himself.
In this vast continent, this grand civilized society, this world—there was only one such being under the gods.
"The Emperor...!!"
Rene was intelligent. Countless hypotheses and conclusions raced through her mind. The Emperor was manipulating the Elector to seize permanent power.
The massive undead incident, the heresy accusations, her abduction and imprisonment... It all meant he was confident. Confident he could handle it even if exposed.
That realization plunged her into despair. Ambitious as she was, she believed she could resolve the power struggles between the border nobles and the Elector given enough time.
But the Emperor. One who'd prepared meticulously. One confident enough to weather public scrutiny. Such a being desired her death—and Libye's.
The reason he hadn't killed her but imprisoned her instead? She still had use. The sole heir to the Elector Duke. And a woman. A tremendously powerful political card.
In an instant, she envisioned her future. Her father would likely be assassinated. Or perhaps already had been. Her heart tore at the thought, but her mind remained coldly rational.
And she herself would probably marry the match the Emperor chose for her. Completing the puppet regime. Swearing eternal loyalty to the imperial house, ushering in an era of hereditary Emperors as the Elector. No— if it came to that, there'd be no more Elector. Just the Emperor and his vassal.
How many Electors had faced this before? Not all imperial Electors had fallen like Libye. In fact, Libye was a special case. The Elector houses rivaled the imperial family...
Such thoughts filled her mind when a strange voice reached her ears.
'Kill me, and burn my body.'
'Brother Pascal.'
Brother? Pascal? The Inquisitor who'd come to investigate the heresy charges. Inquisitors called each other brothers. A tight-knit organization... but brothers...? Another Inquisitor was here!
Antaen—no, the spy disguised as him—had he been killed? He too had been a formidable mage. Had the Inquisitors taken him down?
But the conversation was odd.
'May there be a place for you among brothers in heaven.'
'Let it be so; my life shall be the bedrock of a bright world.'
'Bless us, O Pantheon.'
-Kwachik.
A chilling rupture echoed. Like a blade crushing a man's spine. A wretched, horrific sound. An Inquisitor had killed another Inquisitor. And now footsteps approached the place where she was confined.
What expression should she wear? She barely calmed her trembling body. The unknown always bred fear. She prepared to face the approaching killer of the Inquisitor. Was it a cleanup? Did this monster intend to kill her too?
-Cheolk.
The doorknob turned. Powerful spells warded that door. But soon—kwachik— a greatsword wedged into the crack. She nearly screamed. A gleaming white blade protruded through the door.
Again—kwachik, kwachik. Methodically. Like a woodcutter splitting logs. Kwachik.
-Bam!
With the door half-shattered, the man outside kicked the debris aside roughly. Amid the rubble, a familiar face appeared. Rene steadied her quivering lips and forced herself to speak calmly.
"Albert of Dane."
"Are you alright?"
"Fortunately. Thank you for worrying. Have you come to kill me?"
"What...?"
"You beheaded the Emperor's spy and butchered the Inquisitor. Now come to silence the witness? Apostate Inquisitor?"
The man paused at her words. He glanced at his blood-soaked sleeves for a moment. Then he sheathed his sword and shook his head.
What expression should she make? Rene Philippa was clever and proud. She would never show fear, not even in her darkest moment. Facial control was courtly basics, and she'd been a creature of the court since birth.
Yet gazing into those wretched, sorrow-filled, gloomy blue eyes, she couldn't hide her expression. Her own eyes reddened unbidden.
"You came to save me."
"Yes."
"Albert... that's it. An Inquisitor code name."
"Correct."
She examined his body. Clothes half-eaten away, scars from fierce battle, crusted blood. Pallid face, slightly trembling legs. Beneath the tattered garb, firm muscles and countless scars.
Rough, scar-covered hands. Trembling.
"You've been through hell."
That was the only thing she could say. Not mere thanks for her rescue. She sincerely wanted to honor his life. Even without knowing his true identity or beliefs. From the heart.
Well done.
"Care to sit for a bit?"
Rene patted the space beside her. She was confined in the court's annex, her own room. The luxurious bed was large enough for two.
Fernandez hesitated, then sat. Rene grinned mischievously.
"You're the first outsider to set foot on this bed."
"Is that so?"
"Yes, naturally. My body isn't some toy to be trifled with. Seeing such a bold man on a sheltered maiden's bed—you must be used to this?"
"Think so?"
"Heh heh, yes. Really. You look like quite the playboy."
Fernandez silently regarded her face. She soon slipped a hand under the pillow and drew a short dagger.
"You usually sleep with that under your pillow?"
"A lady's basic accomplishment!"
Rene left Fernandez on the bed and sprang up. As he rose to follow, she pressed his shoulder.
"It's fine. Is that mage dead?"
"Yes."
"Then from now on, I'll guard my own body. And yours as a bonus. So, what. Take a break! It's okay sometimes."
She had so many questions. But how could she ask while seeing that face? Rene smiled self-deprecatingly. Hearing her, Fernandez slowly unbuckled his sword belt and leaned against his greatsword, sitting comfortably.
"You hug your sword even when resting?"
"Not usually."
"Then why now...?"
"Because you're not usual."
"...Was that a joke?"
"Yes."
"Who jokes like that?"
"An Inquisitor."
"How lame."
Rene laughed as she spoke. A faint smile touched Fernandez's lips. Spring breeze blew through the shattered door and crumbling outer walls. Dawn was breaking. Day was coming.
"I am Rene Philippa de Carbellier. Legitimate daughter of Libye Archduke Erbe de Carbellier, rightful heir to this domain, and the sole daughter of the noble Elector with imperial election rights. And you?"
"Fernandez Cerned. Eldest son of Cerned Barony on the frontier of Dane Kingdom, Archbishop of the Beitasser Church, Rank 2 Inquisitor, Religiosa Demonica."
"Now that we know each other, we're friends, right?"
"Yes."
"You've been through hell. Cerned Baron."
"You too have endured much hardship. Lady Carbellier."
"We have much to discuss. But yes, rest now. We'll sort out the questions on a better day, in a better place."
With that, Rene smiled brightly in the first rays of dawn.
* * *
It's okay to rest sometimes. Perhaps that's what he'd wanted to hear. Fernandez felt the bed's comfort and smiled bitterly. Do I even deserve that?
He'd never lived complacently in his life... Fernandez dozed off for a moment, just a brief one. He was exhausted. Demonica could fight for three sleepless days, but that didn't mean fatigue didn't accumulate.
Most Demonica led highly regimented lives. Bed at set hours, up like clockwork. They believed routine built muscle, but also, there was no reason to endure weariness.
Enduring hunger without eating didn't mean no hunger. Fighting without sleep didn't mean no need for it.
What he lacked was merely the qualification. In a life of regrets, even brief complacency in reality wasn't permitted.
So perhaps he'd wanted to hear such words.
The empire's politics, the Emperor's schemes, the shifting tides, his dead... brother. Fernandez set them aside and closed his eyes.
And Rene smiled softly at the sleeping young Inquisitor's face. His identity, Libye's situation, the ruined ducal palace—she set them aside too, purely.
The endless-seeming night had passed, and morning returned. A spring morning like any other. Far off, beyond the outer walls, troops marched back. The Duke's banner flew at the forefront.
Her father rode tall on his horse, commanding the forces with booming vigor, like the spirited man from the Fifty Years' War.
Countless trials remained, and Libye's future might not be bright. With the Emperor revealing his ambitions against the Electors, hardship was a foregone, matter-of-fact certainty.
But for now, celebrate this day's victory. Rejoice in expelling the greedy border nobles and robe nobles, in uniting the duchy however feebly. All beginnings are humble.
"Thank you."
Rene whispered it to the sleeping Inquisitor. On second thought, this man had saved not just her, but the entire duchy. For such a man—a noble, an exceptional knight—to be seen as mismatched with a duke's daughter? Hardly.
Didn't priests marry? The Beitasser Church didn't fuss over priests' weddings, as she recalled. She'd never heard of a married Inquisitor, but at his age, already bishop-rank with ample power. She was a devotee of Shilde, but the Pantheon was all one family anyway.
Taking him as a son-in-law to inherit the dukedom wasn't a bad idea. Carbellier Duchess sounded better than Cerned Baroness. Nor would it be bad for him.
Father would rage if he knew. Said he was friends with the great chieftain... What could be done? Without beastkin tiger tribe military aid, Libye couldn't stand against the Emperor anyway. They were in the same boat, like it or not.
'Hmm. But didn't the great chieftain call this man her lover...?'
That was a new worry. Carbellier chuckled. A woman in dresses suited him better than one pitching tents in the wastes. Men were all the same.
With such thoughts, Rene Philippa quietly awaited her father. Careful not to breathe, lest she wake the sleeping youth.