Chapter 282
Chapter 282
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 282
Chapter Title: The Falcon Takes Flight (3)
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They were now a group that could properly be called the "Fernandez crew." Kirhas and Abel were riding in the carriage, while Freya sat inside, and Fernandez perched quietly on the driver's seat, lost in thought. This scene had become all too familiar.
Ever since his debate with Orcis, Fernandez had been spending more and more time sunk deep in contemplation. Despite Kirhas's jokes, Freya's grumbling, and Abel's gentle encouragement, his condition seemed to grow more severe with each passing day.
But contrary to what the others thought, he wasn't despairing or worrying. He was simply continuing his thought experiments in silence.
-That's impossible too. You know that. How is [Crooked Spear] supposed to conquer Ares? That assumption's flawed from the start.
'We have to keep all possibilities open. Just because a group was insignificant in my past life doesn't mean they will be now.'
-If we're going that far, we'd have to assume every tiny backwater congregation in some remote province. That's not feasible, and it wouldn't mean anything anyway.
The future was already flowing in a completely different direction from his past life. Trying to monopolize future events based on past-life knowledge had become utterly pointless.
Dane, Infermer, Fairn, the 50 Years' War, the Empire and the Sultanate, the North... even up to Necropolis. If time kept passing like this, the divergences would only widen.
The moment it became impossible to devise strategies based on past-life knowledge, he mulled over Orcis's words.
A group that didn't exist in his past life. Yet one capable of destroying the world. Events that hadn't happened before, and the ripples they would cause.
Where could it be? Where would it start? A vast continental map unfolded in his mind. Black flags pierced it one by one—markers he dubbed "safe zones."
Regions thoroughly purged. Places where the breakwaters from his past life had been completely uprooted. Viewed this way, the eastern continent was virtually a vacuum.
'But there's one thing that's certain.'
He didn't know when, where, or how the world's destruction would unfold. But there was one undeniable truth—
'The masterminds are Great Demons.'
Pest Lord Urkasia. Yekaset of the Seven Crowns. Crimson Archduke Tyban. Only three Great Demons remained. Even during that Millennium War, when gods, demons, and each race's heroes clashed, their iron thrones had stood unshaken. Now, cracks had formed.
What were the Great Demons thinking? Anxiety? Rage?
'Pleasure.'
-Yeah, probably.
Those arrogant Great Demons never even considered their own failure or downfall. Even though they had all been sealed away in their respective dimensions during the Millennium War.
Their thinking was exceedingly simple. Perhaps because they had become more than half-conceptual beings. Their minds weren't particularly sophisticated. Some called them mad entities engaged in contemplations too profound for mortals to grasp, but to Fernandez, they were no different from immature brats full of bravado.
They would be delighted. They would watch this thrilling variable unfold amid the dull, monotonous path to doom with fascination. Or they would mock the competitors they would one day vie with for material-world supremacy as those rivals self-destructed.
Each time a Great Demon fell, their mad laughter would echo from the abyss below. Growing louder, more intense. It was most welcome for the Great Demons. After all, they were convinced victory was theirs anyway.
Laugh. Laugh it up. Laugh until it rips your lungs out. That will be your dying breath. Fernandez closed his eyes, gazing at the shadow draped over the driver's seat.
An era where demons smile from every shadow. How long their thrones would remain unshakable remained to be seen.
* * *
The moment they arrived at the port, Kirhas leaped onto the carriage roof and started bouncing around. True to her wildlands origins, she had a penchant for wide-open spaces.
"The sea!!"
"Can you see it?"
"...I can smell it!"
This wasn't some rural harbor—it was the Empire's largest port city. There was no way the sea would be visible from the city gates. Yet the unique atmosphere of a port city seemed to thrill her all the same.
Gire was indescribably wealthy. At least more developed than Fernandez remembered. Goods from every corner of the world piled up here; the streets teemed with diverse wares unbound by region or origin.
Spices and silks from Kirjitz, exotic fruits from some distant western land, wools and carvings whose names he didn't even know, merchants of varying skin tones spitting and yelling at each other.
At that moment, Kirhas poked her head out from the roof and shouted.
"Benefactor! Doesn't it feel just like that time?"
"That time?"
"When we were invited by the Elf King!"
"You mean Infermer. Yeah, it does feel similar."
To Fernandez, comparing Gire to Infermer was frankly an insult to Gire. Infermer might be one of the northeastern sea triangle trade ports, but it couldn't compare to Gire's stature.
From Kirhas's perspective, though, ports all looked much the same. Especially the sea breeze and foreign specialties she was seeing for the first time—they were stimulating her greatly.
"The market!"
"...Is there something you need?"
"Chicken skewers! You know, like that time!"
On their first night in Infermer, they had wandered the market alleys searching for cultists. Half for reconnaissance, half to placate Kirhas, they had bought chicken skewers from a vendor.
Was she hungry? But Kirhas's face showed no signs of hunger. If anything, she looked lost in nostalgia. Fernandez stared at her for a long moment—
'Kirhas's face is too well-known... but this is Ironside territory.'
He nodded.
"Some rest now and then isn't bad. Go on, Kirhas."
"What are you talking about, Benefactor?"
"Huh?"
"Of course you're coming with me! It's my turn this time!!"
He had no idea what she meant by "my turn." She spoke as if they were handling communal property. Kirhas shouted playfully and vanished back onto the carriage roof. She immediately began scanning the city for good eats, fruits she wanted to try, crowded squares buzzing with people.
* * *
"Someone's watching us."
"I know who."
Fernandez replied casually to Abel's quiet whisper. It was only natural. At this point, with his [Untouchable] moniker circulating among nations' intelligence agencies—and just half a year ago, every agency scouring the eastern kingdoms to pinpoint his location—it was expected.
Of course, no other organizations mattered here. This was Gire, ruled by Court Baron Tremule. Considering Robert's paranoid self-preservation, no foreign spies could possibly enter the city.
"But it's a bit much."
"Want me to chase them off?"
"Then next time it'll be those two ships. Better to leave them be."
Fernandez spoke while ordering warm tea and snacks from the inn servant. Unlike Abel, he didn't even try to lower his voice. He glanced at the servant, who flinched briefly before composing himself, taking the order, and departing.
A fleeting expression change, but meaningless camouflage to a Demonica who could visually track and snatch incoming crossbow bolts. He watched the departing servant, then scanned the hall's bartender and the scattered travelers.
'If you're going to do this, why not just invite me outright?'
-Because he's a noble.
'Haha. More like a merchant's survival instinct than a noble's.'
Fernandez gave a wry smile as he sipped his tea. Everyone in this inn was either an Ironside or one of their plants.
Robert knew of his presence yet hadn't approached directly—either noble pride or merchant's deal-making. The hasty one digs the well first. An old Imperial noble custom: the one who digs first loses advantage.
Fernandez bowed his head briefly, tapping the table. No need for a calculator duel with Robert. Before weighing pros and cons, they were allies within the Empire's politics, at least.
But Robert's reason for seizing initiative with deal-making instincts... had to be interpreted as a request for understanding.
[I know you know I'm watching. But I can't reach out first. Just as you came to me with your own desires, I have mine. I want a deal, not one-sided orders.]
In truth, considering his ties to Rene Filipa, Robert couldn't defy Fernandez. There might be thresholds, but Robert's safest political position was as the Emperor's closest aide and Ironside leader.
Yet Robert wanted something from Fernandez now. Something not easily granted in one-sided dynamics. Simplifying Robert's actions:
[Please excuse this.]
A profoundly noble—and profoundly commercial—gesture. The Empire's nobles' twisted metaphors. Fernandez nodded readily.
"I should go to him first."
"To the ones watching us now?"
"When a great noble bows first, ignoring it invites backlash. And I'm curious what the issue is."
Considering Gire's immense wealth, Robert's personal intelligence network, and the privateer fleet "guarding" the port, personal favors from him to Fernandez seemed unlikely.
Fernandez stroked his chin, thought briefly, and stood.
"Kirhas."
"Yes, Benefactor!"
"Hungry?"
"Nope!"
Even as she said it, her tail thumped the floor. She'd have to learn tail control before reclaiming tribal chief authority. Fernandez smiled wryly and nodded.
"They say fresh sashimi is all the rage in Gire lately. You good with raw stuff?"
"Yes! Benefactor!!"
-Thump! Thump! Thump!
Like a puppy hearing "walkies." Fernandez chuckled at Kirhas's exuberant face and ruffled her hair.
"Bring back fruit when you return!"
"Fruit?"
"A devotee visiting the goddess empty-handed is a grave offense! The goddess craves new fruits!"
Freya shouted that, then got distracted by the food the waitress brought. Divine power depended on followers' strength, so she lacked dominion over every plant across the continent.
True to her words about wanting to see the wider world, she fixated on novel fruits, flowers, or foods. Fernandez nodded and stepped out of the inn.
* * *
"...Where did they go?"
"To sightsee the market, Your Excellency."
"The market...? Sightsee? Did they perhaps not notice your presence?"
Robert never underestimated Fernandez's abilities, but he couldn't help asking with a somewhat dismayed expression. This man, who understood Imperial noble ways better than anyone—starting market sightseeing after such overt gestures?
"No, they did. He even said it directly to one of our operatives disguised as a waitress."
"What did he say?"
"'Then I suppose I should come to you.' Your Excellency."
"And yet he went to the market? Who with?"
"Tribal Chief Hearttaker."
"Haha... Hahaha!"
Robert tapped the table, bursting into laughter. The Ironsides, seeing the cool-headed noble laugh so heartily for the first time, bowed deeply and gauged reactions.
Mid-laugh, Robert wiped teary eyes and addressed Jean Albre, seated beside him.
"Did you hear? Impressive, isn't it?"
"I... I don't get it. What's going on...?"
"Do you know what my metaphor to him meant?"
"...No."
"Learn this well. Attaching watchers to a high noble—and letting it be obvious—has one of two meanings. 'I'll openly oppose you.' Or 'I want something, so come meet me.'"
"Why so?"
Robert tsked at his naive friend and continued.
"What's the meaning of a secret we both know? It implies we're sharing it—like allies. Who likes being watched? Why impose that discomfort on an ally? It means there's something to convey discreetly."
"So?"
"But this is Gire. Discretion from prying eyes is impossible. Yet he uses that method anyway? It means he's exposing his weakness to lower his position. In short:"
*I respect your authority, but please come to me.*
"But didn't he tell the waitress 'Then I should come to you'?"
"Then suddenly the market...?"
"Haha. That means this:"
*I appreciate the gesture, but you come to me.*
"So arrogant!"
"Arrogant...? For the Empire's next Emperor's confidant, who neutralized a Margrave with a tiny vanguard, the Church's most prominent saint, and the Inquisition's top authority under the Pope by religious law—isn't some arrogance allowed?"
Especially with his tight connections to heads of state.
"But refusing my intent so circuitously implies the opposite:"
-I have a favor to ask you too.
"So this is a symphony. A duet by two singers who perfectly know each other's rhythm. Such refined political discourse. Such bold judgment. Baron Vares—learn well. That's how politicians act."
"So what will you do?"
"When invited, the disadvantaged one goes."
Robert grinned and rose. The Ironsides bowed and retreated upon hearing. The inner chamber doors opened; retainers awaiting him showed deep reverence and parted.
"Let's see if you can reclaim your fief."
"Won't be easy."
"Not that hard either."