Chapter 307
Chapter 307
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 307
Chapter Title: The War of the Puppets (4)
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Fernandez covered a distance that would normally take two straight days of riding in less than half a day. The sturdy warhorse, which had been in fine shape at the start of the journey, was now panting as if its legs might give out at any moment. Shaxisi had been clinging silently to his back for some time now.
Far in the distance, towering walls came into view. The outline of a massive city began to emerge, its outer walls adorned with beautifully gleaming blue bricks.
Dozens of roads stretched toward the city below, lined with merchants and soldiers streaming in and out. It was a sight befitting the Empire's majesty. Naturally, Fernandez couldn't help thinking of Paltennoia.
The scale of the cities wasn't all that different. Yet Paltennoia had been laid waste by the dark king's tyranny and internal divisions, while Al Zahra's Sun Palace still basked in its golden age under the iron rule of a mighty sultan.
"...Impressive."
He murmured to himself as he ascended the road leading to Al Zahra. How could it have fallen so easily?
Roughly half a century. That was the time from now until the world's end in his past life. Was it possible for a nation this prosperous to vanish without a trace in a mere fifty years?
During the Great War of his previous life, humanity's final bastion had been the Empire's Paltennoia. The last battlefield, where they had fought hell's legions under Empress Karvelier's reign, had been the Paltennoia Plains.
The altered history of today, different from his past life. In other words, his existence had created the divide between these two great powers. Fernandez rolled the thought around in his mouth for a moment before letting out a faint chuckle. Yes, there was no such thing as fate.
Even if the Levineiter Empire sparked another fifty-year war right now, victory against Kirjat was far from assured. The Empire hadn't yet recovered from its civil war.
Thus, this was actually a stroke of good fortune. The Levineiter Empire lacked the strength to hold back Karadskar on its own. With support from Kirjat, whose national power remained relatively intact, there was still a chance of victory.
Empress Karvelier was a hero not yet fully matured. But in his prime, he had Kirhas at his side, subordinates who lived and died by his command scattered across the world, and the full backing of the Church and various nations.
Divided nations and inadequate preparations? Weaknesses, to be sure. But the war, erupting thirty years earlier than expected, must have caught Karadskar off guard as well. And on top of that, Fernandez had only about five years left to live.
A blessing, indeed. It meant he could eliminate at least one more threat to the world's doom within his lifetime.
Fernandez nodded firmly and tugged the reins. The exhausted horse foamed at the mouth as it plodded forward slowly. The Sun Palace drew steadily closer.
Al Zahra's gate guards checked the exemption certificate and top-level foreign envoy credentials presented by the half-delirious Shaxisi, then opened the way without resistance.
After passing through several gates, weapon inspections, and tight security, in half a day...
Fernandez was finally escorted into the heart of the Sun Palace—the sultan's throne room.
* * *
The sultan of the era, Isa Musq Yahya al-Hashir, was a young and ferocious man. Had he just turned thirty? The warlord's dignity, forged by inheriting the throne mid-way through the Fifty Years' War and spending his entire reign on the battlefield, blazed beneath his tawny eyes.
Beneath a faintly glowing purple veil, only his silhouette and piercing gaze burned fiercely. His ornate robes glittered in the throne room's light, while attendants behind the veil offered him tobacco and fanned him with feathers, bowing their heads.
By protocol, the sultan never issued commands directly. As Fernandez knelt motionless in the center of the throne room, on lavish marble tiles adorned with jewels, a small whisper came from behind the veil.
"The Radiant Sun, lord of the impregnable fortress and king of kings over all lands where the sun rises and sets, asks the foreigner from afar: What do you seek by coming to this country?"
The attendant bellowed in a resonant voice. Of course, Fernandez had heard the sultan's words before the man even shouted them. No matter how softly spoken, nothing could fool a Demonica's ears in this silent throne room—not even a cough. The sultan had a deep, rumbling voice like a low growl from a beast.
"The Emperor of the Levineiter Empire foresaw that the southern bandits would rise in rebellion and deems this the gravest crisis yet. Thus, as the Empress's proxy, I beseech Your Excellency to dispatch troops and bring those bandits to justice."
"His Excellency replies to the foreigner: Those who slaughter my subjects are my enemies, those who defile my lands are my thieves—this is no concern for your sovereign."
"Yet the Emperor judges this no mere border skirmish, but the prelude to a great war that could wound many on a small scale or topple nations on a large one. If two great powers join hands against an unknown foe, who in this civilized world could stand against us?"
After a brief silence, the sultan whispered into the attendant's ear. The man hesitated, then shouted loudly.
"His Excellency questions the foreigner: You are no envoy of the Empire, nor my guest—merely an uninvited intruder. Your sovereign cowers like a young and feeble girl. As a merciful leader of the civilized continent, what can you offer my nation in exchange for easing your worries?"
Before the attendant even began, Fernandez, having heard the sultan's voice, let out an involuntary chuckle. He raised his head and stared straight at the sultan beyond the veil.
What an amusing play. In that single move, he gauged the sultan's temperament. The man was a predator.
From childhood through youth, his entire reign devoted to the Fifty Years' War. Born a prince, warrior, and general, he had learned everything atop a warhorse on the battlefield.
The war ended shortly after he inherited the throne from his predecessor—not a clear victory for anyone, but an ambiguous miracle. The Great Wilderness became grasslands, the wastelands returned to the beastmen.
Thus, to cover the massive military expenditures, Sultan al-Hashir had to choose. Unlike the Levineiter Empire with its elector system, as an absolute monarch, he ruled through blood, assassination, slaughter, and dictatorship to secure his throne.
The way of wolves and hyenas. The young man, who had spent every moment since birth as a field commander, now stood as the ruler of the continent's mightiest civilized nation.
And now that warlord tested him. The beasts' way. A light probe to check if he was worthy before joining hands.
So, Fernandez met the glowing eyes inside the curtain head-on. Their gazes clashed in the air.
"I will provide support."
"His Excellency—"
"No. The support I offer is the minimum needed to keep your nation from falling."
"His Excellency says—"
"You may interpret it that way, of course. I understand. But nothing changes, and that aligns with what the Empress thinks as well. The southern unrest is no mere lapse in vigilance—your nation will suffer irrecoverable losses in this war."
Fernandez no longer waited for the attendant, answering directly. It was rudeness that could warrant the gallows. Yet aside from the flustered attendant and outraged ministers, the two principals—the sultan and Fernandez—remained calmly composed, untouched by anger.
Even if their words danced with swords and flying spears.
"This is no threat or empty prophecy. Not only His Imperial Majesty, but I myself have reached the same conclusion. The enemy's host reaching Al Zahra is only a matter of time. The Great Wilderness you so desire will burn beneath their hooves—and you should rejoice at that sight, Sultan. At least those forces won't invade your lands!"
Fernandez rose slowly, enunciating each word deliberately. His Kirjat tongue was perfectly polite, fluent in pronunciation and structure. But the meaning was anything but.
Fury rose among the ministers. If the sultan's authority had been even slightly weaker, they would have dragged him out or struck off his head on the spot.
But with the sultan sitting wide-eyed beneath the canopy, no bold minister dared move first.
Then, a low voice resounded. Unlike before, loud enough now for everyone in the throne room to hear, however faintly.
"You tell me an enemy I cannot face alone targets my lands, and a distant emperor seeks to aid me. Is this what you ask me to believe?"
"His Excellency—"
"Silence, you useless wretch."
The sultan rose and kicked away the attendant who tried to relay his words. Though sent sprawling roughly, the man uttered no groan, rising immediately to straighten his attire.
Silence blanketed the throne room. Whenever the sultan raised his voice or acted directly during a council, heads rolled. The ministers shrank back in fear.
Soon, the curtain was drawn aside. The sultan strode barefoot across the cold marble floor with heavy steps. It felt like a beast approaching—Fernandez sensed his muscles tense instinctively after so long.
A Demonica's instinct. It had registered a being that posed a genuine threat. Standing close enough to touch with outstretched fists, the sultan said to Fernandez,
"Wag that silver tongue a bit more. I'll stake your lifespan on every moment you do."
"You cannot kill me, Sultan."
"Why? Because you're the Empire's secret envoy, the elf queen's honored guest, Empress Karvelier's consort, and the lord of the Great Wilderness's favorite? I hope you don't think I ignore your glittering resume. My ministers aren't that foolish. Now, answer."
The sultan was a head shorter than Fernandez. Yet that only made him look like a big cat tensed in the shadows, ready to pounce.
"Do you think those fancy titles will save your neck from my hand?"
"The reason you cannot kill me has nothing to do with those."
"Then what?"
"Because you lack the ability."
Gulp. Only the sound of dry swallows echoed in the throne room. The ministers, forgetting even their anger, exchanged tense glances. Visions filled their minds: the enraged sultan tearing apart the Empire's envoy, slaughtering ministers who tried to intervene, then declaring war on the Empire.
An eternity of silence stretched on. At its end came a sound like wind scattering.
"Heh, heh heh. Ha."
No one dared look at the sultan. But they were witnessing him laugh aloud for the first time.
"Hahaha! The Empire has a real gem. I thought it might be the late emperor's second son or some such. Apart from that boy, your generation's imperial lot are all posers! Ha! Good, splendid! Yes! That's the spirit that makes a man."
The sultan roared with laughter, clapping Fernandez on the back. When Fernandez smiled back at him, the sultan thrust out his hand.
"Even if the Empire sends tens of thousands of warhorses and tens of thousands of tons of steel, it wouldn't be as reassuring as you alone. You've grasped the full situation beforehand, dared to convey it to me, and understood my intentions first. Our eyes align perfectly."
The sultan gripped and shook Fernandez's hand heartily. Then he nodded and turned back toward the throne.
"As you predicted, the situation is dire. And as you foresaw, they're advancing even now, with no clear countermeasure yet. At least here and now, we both know there's no need or worth in checking each other. Speak."
Right now, the emperor had no need or reason to use the Pale Demon Tribe as a pretext to check Kirjat.
From the elf queen's perspective, Kirjat wasn't a target for restraint. If anything, it was a trading partner.
Everything has causes and effects, and diplomacy holds meaning only before cold logic and stark profits. Preaching about the Pale Demon Tribe's threat to Kirjat now, weaving high diplomacy to sow chaos— no faction stood to gain.
Thus, from the moment he heard the news, the sultan had trusted Fernandez's words. There was no reason not to. Simple elimination.
And Fernandez had grasped that the sultan already knew this. From the instant their eyes met, the two men had acknowledged each other's caliber. The sultan simply had a duty to test him—for harmony among future ministers. A necessary procedure.
Now all procedures were complete. They'd doubted enough, explained enough, proven enough. What remained was action and discussion. With the tedious formalities cleared, the two men shared a satisfied laugh.
Before late evening that day passed...
The sultan mobilized nearly all of Al Zahra's forces southward.
Considering Karadskar's host's maximum plausible advance speed, it would take a week.
The time until the sultan's army made first contact with Karadskar's forces, from the southern limit classified as the 'safe zone.'