Chapter 229
Chapter 229
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 229
Chapter Title: Operation Name: Wildfire
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“Holy Pantheon, grant your blessing. Almighty Shiled, Your justice brings peace to the world, and in faith we confess. Let the servant of the Lord, who sleeps sweetly in Your embrace, cross the halls of the Holy Pantheon and rest willingly under Your power.”
“Holy Pantheon, grant your blessing.”
“Look upon the souls defiled by the world’s evils and filth, and as we mourn their deaths today, we beseech You. Grant them a place of happiness alongside the chosen saints, freeing them from the shackles of death to behold You in peace.”
“Let them live forever under the bosom of the Holy Pantheon.”
-Dong!
The bell tolled, and the knights bowed their heads. The Bishop of Shiled sprinkled holy water over the altar piled with the remains and offered a prayer. Fernandez watched the scene from Kirhas’s side.
The battlefield had already been tidied up after a few days. The corpses that had once moved as undead lay stacked like a tower on the altar. The priest received a torch from an acolyte and recited a brief prayer.
The memorial service concluded. Those who had risen as undead were treated as cursed minions and could not receive a proper burial from the bishopric priests. Yet, at Duke Carvelier’s request, a funeral mass presided over by priests themselves was being held.
Those who knew this tragedy had unfolded under the Emperor’s direction swallowed their rage as they watched, while the ignorant praised the Duke’s benevolence. Politically, it wasn’t a bad start. A few more spices, and it could be even better.
Fernandez turned his horse toward the Duke and the Prince standing beside him, both with heads bowed.
* * *
“Isn’t that a bit of a stretch?”
The Duke’s expression soured. Fernandez—perhaps the hidden power behind the Great Chieftain, officially the only ‘concubine’ who could directly petition the Great Chieftain.
“Our priests, the priests of the Lich Lords, and the mages have all cross-verified that they weren’t soldiers of the Lich Lords. How do you propose to fabricate that?”
“The priests of the Holy Pantheon can be persuaded. The Lich Lords’ priests are hostile anyway, so our claims hardly matter to them. And the imperial mage who verified them was Antaen, and he’s dead.”
Fernandez spoke calmly. The Prince nodded beside him.
“Persuading the Holy Pantheon churches is, well, not my concern. Duke, the reversal of this situation is inevitable anyway. My father will attack Reubye no matter how this plays out.”
“Lord Robert. Even so, we lack the forces for an assault on the Lich Lords.”
The Duke didn’t know Robert was the head of Iron Side. That was a secret between Robert, Fernandez, and Rene. Publicly, the Prince was framed as a ‘righteous noble who rose against the Emperor’s tyranny.’
The envoys wouldn’t stay long. And when they returned to the imperial palace, the great undertaking must begin. The problem was that Reubye was a crumbling domain, and the other elector counts wouldn’t aid it.
Reubye was isolated. Abandoned after the western expedition, a wasteland before the steppes. It was unknown how many elector counts sided with the Emperor’s ambitions, but even those against him wouldn’t help Reubye.
It was about dividing the spoils. Any elector count openly hostile to the Emperor would be a major noble. They wouldn’t share their pie with Reubye, which couldn’t provide significant battlefield support.
“Isn’t the Great Chieftain with them?”
“The beastfolk tiger clans are embroiled in civil war. The Great Chieftain came to Reubye seeking aid for his own internal conflict. Even if two desperate groups allied, could they muster forces to attack the Lich Lords and oppose the Emperor?”
It was true. The Great Chieftain’s forces would be sufficiently depleted just ending the civil war. The west was in chaos now.
“The Emperor, seeing the west’s state, will surely dispatch legions. With Reubye’s Duke having failed, the imperial side must send some signal. Publicly, at least.”
“Publicly, yes. It won’t take long for the imperial legions to turn into an assault force on Reubye.”
With the Emperor’s scheme failed, he’d expect Reubye to rebel.
Requesting a western expedition in that scenario would be like tossing fish before a cat. The Emperor would gladly send armies to ‘support’ it—and keep them there after.
Post-war, Reubye would be occupied by the Emperor’s forces. Meanwhile, the other elector counts would fall into his grasp.
“The best way to expose the enemy’s weaknesses is to create the situation they most desire.”
Fernandez gazed quietly at the Duke.
“We’ll split our army in two.”
“How, when we’re already short on forces?”
“If the Emperor joins the western expedition, the fewer our forces appear, the better. They’ll seem easier to swallow. The rest will go to Gire.”
Robert nodded at his words.
“The moment the Emperor’s core forces concentrate in the west, the instant he’s certain of victory, Gire’s army will seize the imperial palace. The Emperor, busy political maneuvering to win over the other elector counts, can’t build an intelligence network to watch Gire. He’ll never suspect Trumille’s Gire.”
“Assuming everything goes to plan. Then the forces, retainers, and commoners left in this domain must face the Emperor’s army head-on. They won’t last half a day before annihilation. Who do we leave in that death trap?”
Reliable figures, and key assets that could fool even the Emperor, had to remain here. Sacrificial lambs.
“Me.”
Fernandez met the Duke’s eyes.
“I’ll stay, representing the beastfolk tiger clan alliance. You’ll stay too, won’t you, Duke?”
“……Right. Die together, is it? It gains you nothing—and the beastfolk tiger clans nothing. You won’t stay alone…… It means Hearttaker Great Chieftain’s warband stays behind, doesn’t it?”
“If I propose this plan then flee the trap, could you trust me, Duke? To make an outsider’s call to defy the Emperor believable to an elector count, I must stake my life.”
“What gain is the Emperor’s fall to you?”
“Well, Duke. Better a reasonable man in that seat than a mad Emperor consumed by conquest and power lust as our neighbor.”
The Duke nodded.
“Is this Hearttaker Great Chieftain’s will?”
“If that comforts you, think so.”
“Then good. Lord Robert, please urge the western expedition on the Emperor. The expeditionary force will reassemble.”
The Duke gave a bitter smile. The last expeditionary force had been the Empire’s full might, and as its commander, he’d ruled Reubye, seizing wealth and honor.
Now his position was a candle in the wind. The legions the Emperor sent would surely aim to crush Reubye.
“It’ll be a race against time.”
Fernandez smiled at the Prince’s words. A race against time. The western expedition would succeed without fail. Not a war with the Sultanate, but merely sorting out the fragmented warlords in the wasteland. Profitable, even. Through it, the Empire could extend influence across the wasteland.
The Fifty Years’ War had been two monarchs vying for the wasteland, left ambiguously after the armistice. The Empire wouldn’t miss this easy chance to reoccupy it.
The pretext was solid. The Great Chieftain claiming sovereignty over the wasteland had personally requested aid. The Emperor would now claim the wasteland as his domain and reduce the beastfolk tiger clan alliance to a puppet state.
Reubye, in his path, would be occupied by the Emperor’s legions. Inevitable.
Thus, a race against time. Until the western expedition’s end, evade the Emperor’s eyes, rally elector counts rebelling against him, gather forces in Gire, and strike the empty imperial palace. No margin for error in any operation’s timing.
This high-wire act allowed no single misstep out of a thousand. A race against time. Fernandez was accustomed to such fights. Time was never his ally.
Yet he’d never lost one. Short on time? Familiar territory.
* * *
La Mertion was the vital bridge linking the Empire’s eastern provinces to the Dane Kingdom, the core of the Empire’s eastern trade route, Blanchema. Blanchema—the ‘Path of Light’ in imperial tongue—this massive trade artery’s hub. The central nexus connecting the tangled royal roads of the eastern kingdom alliance to the Empire’s own.
City of Light. La Mertion’s other name. Even in the deepest night, lanterns brought by merchants never dimmed; even in the dark dawn, crowds thronged the exchanges and auction houses.
“What a splendid city! Look, Lindbloom. See these fruits. Fruits you’d never find in our lands!”
“Couldn’t we grow them? Just cultivate and eat them?”
“That dismisses the farmer’s blood and sweat. Nature means what grows of its own accord! How can a fruit forced by a goddess weigh the same as one mortals toil to cultivate?”
No matter how she thought, marketing watermelons as goddess-grown would sell better…… The woman nodded with a smile. No need to rain on such enthusiasm.
“We’re not here to sightsee, Freyja.”
“Only a goddess can scold a goddess!”
“The only gods who command me are the Holy Pantheon and Shiled.”
“Lindbloom! This mortal’s cheeky!”
The woman, Abel, stroked the chattering Freyja’s head. There, there, good girl. Roughly that meaning. Suddenly, a familiar setup, a familiar scene flashed in her mind.
What was Kirhas doing now? She was a child who tried so hard to seem tough, which only made her more pitiable. And……
‘Are you well?’
Not that long, but months had passed since they’d left. Even with interim reports, they were overdue. The letter from Fernandez was a dry contact request.
His seal, his handwriting—but barren of any personal news or greetings. That very sterility made it unmistakably his, lending credence. Yet it left a resentful ache.
‘You rascal.’
Fernandez had requested a meeting at one of La Mertion’s auction houses. An auction house, suddenly? But he wouldn’t summon her idly. She’d been uneasy sending her alone anyway.
La Mertion’s auction house teemed with merchants. From foodstuffs like fruits and grains to military supplies like ironware and mounts. A wholesale hub where local specialties from everywhere sold to everywhere else.
Noisy clamor filled the hall. Freyja grumbled and shook her head nonstop. As they watched quietly, someone approached from behind and stood there.
-Clink.
The accompanying knight reflexively gripped his sword hilt. Then came a soft chuckle from behind.
“A knight of Dane Kingdom. Fierce battle aura. Fine swordsmanship, but causing a scene here wouldn’t please any of us, would it?”
“Who are you?”
A man behind reached out casually. As the knight gripped tighter, a hand appeared over his shoulder, palm open in mockery. A small hand mirror bore a seal: dagger and eye, sun and steel.
“Iron is the symbol of trust and victory. And we are steel forged in the deepest fires. Ring any bells?”
“Gray Circle……!”
The knight turned, grinding his teeth. Other kingdom knights might not know, but as an Inner Circle member, he knew of the Empire’s Iron Side operations in the kingdom.
A group steeped in national grudge. The knight tightened on his hilt, eyeing the smirking woman before him.
“No need for such anger. Let me apologize for my incompetent traitors.”
“The incidents in our kingdom were those traitors’ doing? Gray Circle cuts its tail like that?”
“Well, no retort there. But this isn’t the place for talk. How about we cut to the chase swiftly? No need to redden faces.”
“Then why not request a better meeting spot? Where’s Lord Albert, and why you?”
The knight growled; the woman shrugged with a laugh.
“Ah, great Round Table knight, sir…… That one’s…… doing fine. Honestly, I can’t imagine him in trouble or cornered. Monstrous bastard. Anyway. Other spots aren’t good. Eyes everywhere nearby.”
“……Eyes?”
“Emperor’s spies planted all over, knight. Not safe here.”
“Then why insist on this city?”
“If the Emperor guards it, means it’s that important.”
She grinned. Abel watched silently. The woman tilted her head.
“Your companions have no questions……?”
“Another woman.”
“……Huh?”
“Another. A woman. I don’t know what protocol sends handwritten letters introducing women. But another woman.”
Abel smiled. The woman felt immense pressure beneath that smile and stepped back. Air froze solid. No mere sensation. The knight beside her stiffened; the noisy auction house fell briefly silent.
Presence of a dragon. The Gray Circle agent waved frantically.
“I-I’m just here to explain the operation. Must be a misunderstanding…….”
“What misunderstanding?”
“Only two women near that Round Table knight!”
“……Two……you say.”
The air iced over. The knight prayed to Shiled—he knew who this legendary dragon cherished.
“Y-Yeah. The beastfolk Great Chieftain and Carvelier’s daughter. No other women! Don’t know why I’m defending it, but we’re in a secret op? Could you keep it quiet…….”
“A new name.”
Abel smiled softly. Freyja hiccuped at the sight and hurried two steps away, pretending to browse the auction house.
“We’ll need more details. Start talking.”