Chapter 263
Chapter 263
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 263
Chapter Title: Paltennoia, The Empire's Demise (1)
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Two days later, Duke Erb's audience request received formal approval from the imperial court. The duke smiled sadly as he headed to the palace.
The imperial palace was almost exactly as he remembered it. Every time the electors had been summoned—at least during the days when the imperial family still supported Revue—he had never refused the court's call to assemble, as relations between the Carbellerie and Tremulle houses had been quite good.
But the atmosphere. That alone was different. Even as he underwent the eunuchs' weapons check before the audience chamber, Duke Erb couldn't shake off the chilling pressure and subtle sense of wrongness.
'Cold.'
The air in the palace's throne room corridor. And the fingertips of the eunuchs searching his person. Freezing cold.
Inhuman, mechanical expressions. The eunuchs rummaged through the duke's clothes with pale faces like they were caked in powder, moving in monotonous, machine-like motions.
The weapons check ended quickly. It wasn't something that would take long anyway. The duke suppressed his unpleasant sense of unease and gazed at the slowly opening corridor doors.
Darkness stretched out. Deep as an abyss, so thick that the scattered candles illuminating it seemed colorless. The heart of the palace, adorned with crimson silk. This once-glorious throne room, called the Hall of Light, was dyed entirely black.
'No. It's just an illusion.'
Duke Erb swallowed and stepped forward. His survival instincts screamed wildly in warning. The throne room's darkness wasn't visual.
His instincts refused to acknowledge the scene before him. His gaze slipped away, avoiding the light. Unable to focus straight ahead, Duke Erb cast his eyes downward.
Still, the throne room was bright, ornate, and luxurious. Yet in his eyes, it was all darkness. Not a matter of color—the presence of that 'thing' inside warped his vision and made his heart pound as if it would burst.
-Scrape.
Blood suddenly gushed from his nose. Duke Erb touched his nostrils and walked forward. Slowly, step by step, along the path laid with crimson silk.
"Do you like it?"
The emperor's voice rang in his ears. Distant, faint.
"Do you know what you're stepping on?"
"......?"
Duke Erb forced his eyes wide. The texture underfoot wasn't ordinary silk. As his blurred vision slowly focused, the shapes of objects sharpened.
Duke Erb recoiled in horror, stumbling back a few steps. This wasn't silk. The only reason he'd thought it was silk was that silk had covered this spot before.
Not crimson silk... but blood-soaked burial robes, still oozing fresh blood.
"Wh... what...!"
"Haha, surprised?"
Laughter echoed from the distant throne. More blood trickled from his nose. Sticky blood now flowed from his eyes as well. His vision began to redden.
"Oh dear. Your immunity is abysmal. Duke Erb. Should've eaten well and stayed healthy."
"You..."
Duke Erb ground his teeth and forced his head around. His neck creaked horrifically as it turned by force. Almost against his will, he fixed his gaze straight ahead.
A man sat on the throne. Looking down at him with boredom-saturated eyes.
"You've been up to some amusing mischief, Duke. Kept us quite busy."
"What madness are you committing...!"
"Who knows. Just trying to make what's mine truly mine."
-Crack.
Somewhere, chitin clashed. Rustle, crack, crunch. Dry snaps. Noises like insects crawling battered his ears.
"All futile struggles. The outcome is set—why resist? Utterly foolish."
"You can't succeed!"
Duke Erb gasped for breath and shouted. Blood seeped from his throat, and red blisters bubbled and burst on the back of his hand, visible in a glance.
I'm dying here. Is this the end? I must tell him. Inform him of the court's situation. If I collapse here... Revue's forces are finished.
"Erb. We weren't on bad terms, you and I. Quite the ideal vassal-lord relationship. I liked your rationality, but has age brought on senility?"
Mortal lives are truly tragic. The emperor chuckled deeply. As Duke Erb opened his mouth to speak, the emperor raised a finger to his lips.
"Shh."
-Crack, crunch.
The insect movements grew louder. As Duke Erb tried to speak, the emperor declared in a low voice.
"You will become one with us."
"He will stop you...!"
Duke Erb cried out in a boiling voice. His vision darkened further until nothing was visible. Sticky bloody tears glued his eyelids shut.
In the darkness, Duke Erb slowly knelt and collapsed, shouting. He will stop you. You can't succeed.
And.
My beloved daughter.
Rene Philippa. My daughter.
* * *
A heavy gloom hung over the meeting room. None of the duke's knights spoke first. The valor they showed charging battlefields was nowhere to be seen. They simply kept silent, heads bowed.
A chilling solemnity permeated the dim room. The knights sat still, hoping someone else would break the ice.
Fernandez sighed briefly. He understood their feelings, but...
-Cowards.
'Don't say that, Feizashi. They understand.'
-Understanding and acceptance are different. They won't accept it.
'It's not stubbornness or fear... it's loyalty.'
Fernandez soothed the snide Feizashi and slowly rose. The duke's knights turned to him in unison. Their eyes trembled.
Yes. Comforting the bereaved is a priest's duty too. Fernandez smiled bitterly and spoke.
"The duke has passed."
He swallowed "probably." He didn't want to give the knights false hope. The duke's death was as good as confirmed.
Five days had passed since the duke entered the palace. If alive, he would've contacted them long ago. Instead, his legion just squatted there, draining the capital's supplies.
"......"
The duke's retainers fell silent. They were suppressing their grief. Understanding and acceptance were different. And it was reluctance born of loyalty, not fearful denial.
"Now that Duke Carbellerie has passed, I'll speak plainly. You have three choices."
Fernandez met each man's eyes as he continued.
"First. No one in the camp now holds authority equal to Duke Carbellerie. Even Knight Commander Borra couldn't command the full army. So, go to Rene Philippa de Carbellerie, the duke's lady, and reorganize the forces."
Rene Philippa, the duke's daughter, leading the sea campaign centered on Guir. She'd be the only legitimate lord the Revue forces would accept now.
But the knights didn't respond. Fernandez nodded curtly.
"Right. It's the worst option. She's nominally anti-imperial, while the duke built pro-imperial legitimacy. You'd squander his life's work, and moving north would leave western Revue undefended."
Duke Carbellerie's army now guarded the capital Paltennoia. Put differently, they held a position allowing flexible response to threats from any direction.
Heading to Guir might buy time to regroup, but it'd sacrifice Revue's safety and the duke's legitimacy. Afterward, House Carbellerie would just be another ambitious elector, unable to claim the throne. Worst option.
"Second proposal: march on the palace. Revenge satisfaction, immediate supply gains, thousands of benefits from deposing the emperor."
About a third of the knights flinched. Fernandez eyed them closely, clicking his tongue inwardly.
These were high officers, at least commander-level. Such reactions were incompetent for men of their insight.
Most knights, though, stared back expressionless. Fernandez nodded readily.
"Yes. Worse than worst—pure blunder. You'd lose the duke's legitimacy instantly, and if you can't prove the emperor killed him, House Carbellerie becomes eternal traitors in history. The duke's honor and house's survival endangered."
The earlier flinching knights paled.
Nobles have an ancient code: betray elegantly. Nobles are inherently untrustworthy, but they don't attempt betrayal to one's face.
Legitimacy weighs more than rumor in noble society. Nobility proves bloodline; ancient blood means 'trustworthiness.' Respect for a house stems from that.
Thus, nobles never betray openly. They're born to achieve ends through intrigue alone.
If the knights attacked the palace—even if the duke was truly assassinated by the emperor—all blame falls on them. House Carbellerie ends that day in noble society.
"Third, and final proposal. Pretend ignorance. Guard this region as usual."
Doubt creased every knight's face. Knights here weren't mere strong arms. Field commanders with basic tactics.
Strategically, holding position equals regression. Time affects friend and foe alike; while allies stall, enemies advance.
War is relative competition. Victory condition: one. Be better than the enemy. In uncertainty, stalling seems worst.
Fernandez spoke fluidly.
"The Church of Beitasser's crusade army is declared. All church knight orders march on Paltennoia."
Fernandez pointed swiftly on the map, marking three armies: Reverse Cross Relief Knights, Order of St. John Pilgrimage Knights, 5th Penitent Legion. Icons for Beitasser's premier martial orders.
"Also, the eastern kingdom alliance crosses La Mertion into Zaklang and Dian provinces. Pro-imperial eastern electors scramble to block them."
Red shaded the east's giants: pro-imperial electorates Mertion, Zaklang, Dian. Likely aflame with blood and fire now.
"Finally, Guir. House Tremulle wars with northwest's Duke Arnang. Last pro-imperial duke he can call. Now, the emperor's all limbs severed."
Mertion's grand duke, Bares.
Dian's duke, Poitiers.
Zaklang's duke, Grimmoire.
Trua's duke, Arnang.
All four pro-imperial houses busy with domain wars. Empire mighty, but with electors entangled, emperor commands no armies.
The realm burns in war. Guir's Tremulle allied with Duke Carbellerie; Vurra's Duke Sephor fell to beastfolk union...
"Only southern house can check us: the Funeral Duke of Blancpierre."
"They hate the emperor."
"Does that make them our allies?"
"The enemy of my enemy..."
"No. Two starving wolves compete over one deer. Blancpierre won't let you monopolize the prey."
As Fernandez spoke, Borra frowned.
"Then why no action from them now?"
"Blancpierre's duke isn't foolish. Look at the realm. All electors bare teeth; only Carbellerie holds the 'honorable' position. Blancpierre can't strike first."
Nobles don't betray to faces. Duke Carbellerie proved loyalty and honor directly—unassailable legitimacy unless he moves first.
"So hold until east or north settles. Normally worst, but now best."
The duke's legion ringed the capital defensively. Inversely: the only force truly encircling the emperor.
Any imperial legitimacy—like proof of duke's assassination—and guardians become besiegers.
The meeting adjourned. Knights left in groups, faces feigning acceptance. No retainer spoke rashly post-death announcement.
Fernandez waited long after, then sat staring at the map.
"Over?"
The door opened; Abel entered. She'd waited in the hall throughout.
"Yes."
"Heard outside. But really just sit? I'm no strategist, but emperor's no fool."
"Of course."
Emperor's no fool. Assume highly astute. Uniting elector warlords politically demands such intellect.
Optimistic to think he'd sit idly for doom. Unlike knights, Fernandez knew emperor wouldn't await empire's fall passively.
Third-party eyes saw it too: Abel vaguely grasped this.
"Emperor will reach to Blancpierre. His only aid option."
Faction crumbling; only Blancpierre for schemes.
Any terms, emperor accepts. Suppose he declares now:
-Duke Carbellerie ambushed post-audience; throne seizure foiled by guards.
-Carbellerie troops illegally occupy capital, encircle borders; emperor deems rebels.
Blancpierre marches gleefully. Emperor locks gates, holds weeks: Carbellerie crushed between capital walls and Blancpierre.
Best ploy emperor can muster. Unlike war-torn, depleted Revue; Blancpierre's Funeral Duchy preserves strength.
Isolated duke's army crushed sans bases. But emperor hasn't yet because...
"Blancpierre demanded outrageous terms for aid."
"Or Blancpierre mobilized, already marching."
Emperor's silence might buy march time. If so, worst case.
Revue knights fight unprepared; end in ruin.
But war decides by time before force. Time fight? Fernandez confident.
"East falls, Guir's Tremulle wins to capital, or Beitasser crusaders arrive first: our victory."
"And Blancpierre first: our defeat."
"No, emperor's win needs one more."
"What?"
"His declaration. Even if Blancpierre first, no rebel label on Carbellerie: they're loyal guardians. No preemptive strike."
Abel tilted her head. True, but...
"Can't detain emperor directly? Humans here won't attack palace over legitimacy?"
That legitimacy their lifeline.
Abel asked; Fernandez grinned.
"Exactly. Attack palace: Blancpierre, all electors gain pretext against Carbellerie. Can't."
"Then how seal emperor's mouth?"
"No way for duke's knights."
As told: three choices only.
But Fernandez had one more.
He drew his rosary, grinning playfully.
"Heresy investigation."
"Ah."