Chapter 345
Chapter 345
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 345
Chapter Title: Immortals and Mortals (14)
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Walking down the flower-lined path, Abel suddenly burst into laughter. She patted Fernandez's back a couple of times before naturally leaning against him.
"Why is that?"
"Just... it makes me laugh."
It would have been better if Feizashi had said something at a time like this. Fernandez scratched his head with such idle thoughts. Of course, even Feizashi wouldn't have offered any meaningful advice at this point.
In both his past and present lives, he was a man unaccustomed to dealing with lovers. It was different from his relationship with Aria, which had evolved from master and disciple. Approaching her, keeping the right distance—it was all unfamiliar.
As they walked like that, Abel suddenly spoke up.
"Your swordsmanship has improved a lot. At this point, even I would struggle to stand against you in the realm of technique."
"A lot has happened."
At his words, Abel fell silent again. Both he and she knew it. Swordsmanship wasn't the kind of skill that grew by holing up in a room and swinging a blade alone. It was a discipline that required practice—impossible to master through self-study alone.
Improved swordsmanship demanded blood in equal measure to that growth. Sometimes, even his own blood. Abel gently stroked the back of his hand and said,
"You've been through a lot."
"It's not over yet."
"Then you can say it to me once more when it is."
She smiled softly, pouring in the utmost comfort she could offer this gruff, awkward man.
At the end of the narrow forest path, Zephys was visible, sitting there. But there were uninvited guests. Fernandez furrowed his brow as he looked at them. Familiar faces and a group that seemed recognizable were staring at him as they approached.
It was the Lady Everys de la Tremulle, accompanied by well-armed men.
Their clothes were merely worn and tattered light armor, but their sturdy builds and postures revealed the training they had undergone. They were trained in martial arts suited for stealthy, swift movements.
He knew men like these. Intelligence agents directly trained by the state—and given their company with Everys, they had to be Iron Sides.
"Long time no see, Lady Tremulle."
"You're not surprised?"
"Is there any reason I should be, seeing your face?"
"Sometimes I wonder if you're even human. You show no emotion at all."
"He's a man of deep sensitivity."
"Uh... is... he?"
Abel spoke as if suddenly annoyed, then retreated behind Fernandez's back. He glanced at her once, composed his expression, and turned to Everys.
"No need to mind it. It seems the Tremulle Chamberlain hasn't returned to court duties yet."
"...Pardon?"
Everys couldn't hide her bewilderment as she reflexively asked back. How...? After just three exchanges?
"Not missing, then... perhaps gathering intelligence somewhere?"
"Do I have reason to do that?"
"No... and it would be impossible to evade Iron Side's eyes anyway. How did you know?"
"The men behind you look like Gray Circle, judging by their appearance."
At his words, the men flinched. Appearance? They instinctively checked their outfits. They were perfectly attired as ordinary wasteland mercenaries. Of course—they were intelligence agents. They didn't bother with disguises that could be seen through so easily.
"The Tremulle Chamberlain isn't in a position to command you directly, so if Gray Circle is moving with you, it must be by His Imperial Majesty's order."
"Wait, just a moment. You say Robert can't command me? Robert is the family head."
"The Tremulle Chamberlain cannot sire heirs. You can, and among those who wish it are His Holiness the Pope and His Imperial Majesty. You are valuable enough not to heed the Chamberlain's orders."
"Is that a compliment or an insult...?"
Everys stuck out her tongue at the brazenness of speaking so bluntly to the daughter of an electoral house about political marriages and the value of producing heirs.
It wasn't wrong. If anything, it was coldly precise. Everys nodded, tilting her chin as if to say, "Go on."
"Why would Empress Carbellier order you personally, with Gray Circle in tow, to search for me? If the Tremulle Chamberlain were handling court affairs, commanding him would have been simpler, easier, and more reliable."
"Because my abilities aren't trustworthy?"
"Your skills aren't specialized for utilizing the Imperial Intelligence Bureau."
It stung her pride, but it was an admission worth making. Robert had spent nearly his entire life as head of the Intelligence Bureau, with personal prowess that was overwhelming. Having seen him closest, Everys could readily concede it.
"Now I see why Imperial nobles fear you. You thought of that the moment you saw me and Gray Circle?"
"It's hardly more than basic deduction."
"There's more?"
"Is the Tremulle Chamberlain alive?"
"...Yes. Quite intact."
"And is Empress Carbellier still the ruler of the Empire?"
"What could change in a few months? Ah, things do change. My mistake. Yes, His Imperial Majesty remains His Imperial Majesty."
Everys gave a half-hearted reply as she recalled that the man before her had toppled the Empire in half a year, sparked a civil war, ended it, and assassinated her father—the mastermind of the century.
Realizing that, she could no longer see the man before her as human. Black magic that shattered the palace in one blow, personal might, judgment, political acumen.
Is he even human? How could such a person exist? The Holy Pantheon church he belonged to seemed content treating him as a mere 'saint,' but still.
This seemed less like a saint's ability and more like...
Her thoughts reached that point when Fernandez tossed out casually,
"Something's happened. What is it?"
"Talking to you keeps breaking my train of thought. You there—you agree, right?"
"It's not easy conversing with him, true."
But isn't that better? At Everys's words, Abel smiled in reply, clearly smitten. Everys sighed deeply and nodded.
"Don't be shocked—listen carefully. The Fairn royal family is collapsing right now."
"That's not exactly surprising."
"By Sir Darian Shrike."
"...Hm."
Hm.
Darian?
Darian Shrike? The Emperor's Eye? Why was that name coming up here? Fernandez stroked his chin, lost in thought for a moment. The most logical reason would be...
"Perhaps the Fairn royals pressured the Shild church or committed apostasy... No, no. If so, the Inquisition would have stepped in. And Darian, under Empress Carbellier, is no longer..."
"Right. The organization called the Emperor's Eye is gone. Most agents are missing. Sir Shrike is acting independently of the Empire's will."
"Why? Darian Shrike may be arrogant, foolish, and dictatorial, but at least—he's not someone who can be corrupted."
Fernandez swallowed those words. It was the result of dozens, hundreds, thousands of attempts. In his past life, Darian had been his greatest rival and humanity's shining hope.
Killing him was a last resort. The best outcome was him slaughtering his own people. Feizashi had fled from Darian with all sincerity while desperately trying to corrupt him.
All efforts failed. Except for escape, at least. That had lasted thirty long years. In his midlife, he couldn't even face him; in twilight years, he barely escaped; in old age—
'I reached my end. He did.'
Sixty years old. Too young for a warrior at his peak to die. Darian had closed his eyes in his last disciple's arms, denying Feizashi any chance for revenge.
Fernandez quickly pulled himself from the memory. Whatever the past, it was Darian. That Darian. The radiant hero who burned with self-believed justice, even unto death.
"Ah, I should have said this first. Hanging around Robert has me forgetting the order. Correction: Fairn hasn't fallen yet. It's scheduled to in a month."
"A prophecy? Orkis? Or Pi?"
"...You seem more like the prophet. The latter."
Everys clicked her tongue and continued.
"That oracle said that in a month, when Darian's assaults conclude, the Fairn royal line will collapse on its own."
"...All assaults?"
"Darian is burning every monastery in Fairn right now. Countless have fallen, and by now..."
After a pause, Everys said in a chilling voice,
"St. Bartholomew Monastery. The Inquisition headquarters must have crumbled."
At that declaration, Fernandez could think of nothing. He stared blankly at Everys's lips.
* * *
St. Bartholomew Monastery had fallen. The moment he heard it, Fernandez was half-frozen in shock, the other half racing with thoughts.
Countless conjectures and hypotheses whirled through his mind, dizzying him. The first thought, naturally, was 'how.'
If it were him, how would he do it? In his past life, the Inquisition had slowly lost function. Their manpower was severely limited, and end-of-civilization demon incidents were too frequent. It withered away, losing agents and severed from limbs.
But not now. At this point, the Inquisition was a formidable force. What could one man do to topple its headquarters?
'I'd first draw out the headquarters' forces.'
Burn nearby monasteries or villages, incite demon incidents. Not too far, not too close. And the incidents couldn't occur too closely clustered.
Too close, and there's no time to finish and conceal identity—Inquisitors are competent. Too far, and even luring them succeeds, but no time to strike headquarters.
Simultaneously, each incident must appear as separate heresies. That's the hardest part. Nearly impossible alone. Need planted evidence for cover, prior setups to frame distinct cults.
But that's...
'Black mage logic. Impossible for Darian.'
Indiscriminate monastery attacks? To meet the first condition. But for each to register as separate cult heresies, real ties to demon worshippers are needed.
Impossible for Darian. And demon worshippers can't lure him either. Therefore...
"Do you know why Darian is attacking Holy Pantheon churches?"
"During the Imperial civil war, he was influenced by the church's crusade declaration, they say. Who knows if that's true or there's more."
"As a temple knight, it could be."
In his past life, Darian was the Tremulle Emperor's right hand. And that era's Tremulle Emperor, unlike this world, hadn't fallen to corruption.
Thus, Holy Pantheon and Darian's relations weren't bad. The Emperor's fall, the atrocities that followed, and Darian cleaning up—
A former temple knight witnessing the church burn civilians under 'holy war'? Speculation, but possible. Fernandez frowned in thought. Yes, unexpected but feasible.
The holy war Darian faced harbored more madness than he could imagine. Fernandez had incited Holy Pantheon to stoke electoral princes' fears, creating bigger, more horrific waves of fanaticism.
'Ha, so I succeeded after all.'
He let out a self-mocking laugh, shaking his head. In his past life, utterly impossible—yet Darian's corruption happened like this?
'Fool. Idiot... You should have trusted humans more.'
Fernandez clicked his tongue in thought, then looked up at Everys.
"A demon worshipper hides in the Fairn royal family."
"You..."
"A royal wanting to topple Fairn? Yeah, the first prince, maybe. Capable in his own way."
Now Everys couldn't keep up with Fernandez's reasoning. She stared blankly into his eyes.
A firm voice rang out.
"Burning monasteries? Possible alone, but not without detection. Especially for Darian. Someone helped him, all within Fairn, where a succession ceremony looms. In this turmoil, who benefits? The first prince..."
Draw out Inquisition forces externally, burn headquarters? Possible. But afterward, returning Inquisitors? Impossible alone, even for Darian.
Someone must aid him. The mastermind puppeteering this wouldn't discard a powerful pawn like Darian so easily.
Then.
Back to basics. 'If it were me, what move in this situation?'
Fernandez closed his eyes, envisioning. Beyond the darkness, chess pieces moved on a vast board. Mindful of the pale hand gripping the pawn, he slowly calculated possibilities.
'Send the first prince's forces to headquarters.'
Fairn's first prince is a Beitasser faithful. Per last royal purge reports. Second prince follows Maclaren, so first prince leads suppression of Inquisition arson.
Once first prince and nearby troops deploy outward, palace events unfold. If he were second prince, he'd never miss this.
Eliminate first prince's en route forces. Announce second prince's corruption and monastery collapse. Backed by Maclaren church, reject Beitasser. Naturally widens church rift.
Maclaren is among the most secular churches. With Shild falling, this splits good god pantheon meaningfully.
Exploit church schism and Inquisition paralysis; corruption spreads with the tide. Farther, eastward across kingdoms—
So now.
How to stop it?
"Lady Tremulle."
"Y-yes?"
"Do you play chess?"
"Some... cultured knowledge?"
"Two ways to win from checkmate. Know them?"
"Winning from checkmate? Is there such a thing?"
At the sudden question, Everys blankly shook her head. Fernandez chuckled lightly and continued.
"One: sever your opponent's wrist. The other: flip the board."
"What do you...!"
That's not chess! As she moved to protest, a strange sense of déjà vu hit her. She knew a man with such talk, such thoughts. She stared at Fernandez in a daze.
A vision brushed her eyes: an old man in ornate robes, gripping an infi-woven grimoire, cloaked in black mana...
Only then did she realize. Her earlier question resurfaced. Is this human ability? Saint's power?
No, this was closer to a black mage's mindset.