Chapter 346
Chapter 346
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 346
Chapter Title: Immortals and Mortals (15)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
“Guir……yo?”
“Countess Tremure is currently unable to attend to state affairs, so the authority over Guir rests with you. Entrusting this matter to you is hardly unreasonable, is it?”
“No…… Well, that may be true, but…… Will the court nobles of Guir even listen to me?”
Suddenly told to return to Guir, Everis could only wear a reluctant expression.
The name of House Tremure was little more than a signboard. In truth, she had barely set foot on Guir's soil for a few years.
Unlike Robert, who had commanded the Ironsides from childhood and enjoyed excursions abroad, Everis was a true “court countess” deeply involved in the affairs of the imperial palace.
She managed the agencies under the palace interior and finance departments and served as the keykeeper guarding the imperial treasury.
Her expertise lay in such desk-bound duties. Naturally, control over Guir had been handed over to Robert. She had no interest in the title of grand lord and thus raised no objections.
But now, to seize Guir and open its port? It was absurd. Guir's nobles would never obey her word.
“They’ll have to listen. As long as Countess Tremure of House Tremure is alive and well.”
Unlike Everis, who was ignorant of Guir's situation, Fernandez knew exactly what kind of city it was.
Guir was a city perfectly controlled under Robert's paranoid oversight. Robert held the lifelines of all Guir's influential figures in his grasp, and as long as he lived, Guir's nobles could never rebel against House Tremure.
If Everis entered Guir with the Graysircle, who could possibly stop her? And Guir was the North Sea Port. Beyond the North Sea's vast expanse lay—
‘The North.’
Fernandez ignored Everis's incessant grumbling and glanced at her.
‘Franzrit, Malern, and Erik’s tripartite alliance.’
Over a year ago already. Erik had formed it for a southern invasion, Franzrit for maritime dominance and revenge, and Malern for securing divine favor—the alliance of the North Sea's three great powers.
‘There’s no law against using the same method.’
Chess was a fair game. A gentlemanly one where pieces of equal power were moved under the same rules, exchanging moves one by one.
But Fernandez had no interest in fairness. He preferred to flip the board if possible. Then, and now.
He smiled, imagining his opponent beyond the chessboard. Their pawn had finally queened while he looked away for a moment. But that was all.
He would break the hand that seized the piece. Whether they still smiled then, he would see for himself.
* * *
“What do you mean flipping the chessboard? In the end, he dumped all the troublesome work on me! Is there a noble in the world who gets her new husband stolen on the first day of marriage registration?”
Me, of all people? Everis grumbled as she pulled the reins. The empire's warhorses galloped across the plains. Ironside agents stuck close to her, scanning the surroundings warily as they rode alongside.
Whether he had overheard her grumbling or not, a man in light armor glanced at her and spoke.
“Regent Duke, do you mean to follow that man’s words?”
“Why? Don’t you want to?”
“This is entirely different from what His Excellency the Count intended……”
“Shall I tell you what I think, Sir?”
Everis looked at the man coldly and said.
“If Robert were alone, it might be different, but with a shamaness at his side, he already knows our current situation. That’s what prophets are. So no matter what we do, Robert will always make the most rational choice.”
Have a little faith in your lord. Everis clicked her tongue. Loyalty was a virtue for retainers, but for intelligence agents, it was a hindrance. Loyalty blinded people, and the blind could not analyze information coldly.
Such were her thoughts as she gripped the reins. Various musings passed through her mind. Loyalty and blindness, and cold rationality.
Then that man—the one who seemed colder than anyone else in the world.
Even treating himself as mere bait, throwing away his life for his goals—did such a man ever have a moment of blindness?
* * *
Even after Everis departed, Zephys said nothing, simply reading his scriptures. Despite hearing the entire conversation, he showed no sign of agitation, remaining utterly composed.
As Fernandez packed his belongings to leave, he watched Zephys rise to follow.
“You don’t believe her words?”
The head office had been destroyed in a heretic raid. No inquisitor could remain unmoved by such news. Thus, Fernandez assumed Zephys did not trust her.
But Zephys quietly shook his head.
“I believe her.”
“The destruction of the head office holds meaning beyond a mere incident, brother. This is no simple arson……”
“Are you now explaining to me what the loss of St. Bartholomew Monastery means?”
At Zephys’s words, Fernandez fell silent. Calm eyes? No, not quite. Stillness did not mean mere tranquility. Sometimes, the deep sea beneath a calm surface held greater turbulence than a storm-tossed ocean.
Those who faced demons for long years inevitably lost their humanity. Priests filled that void with faith. Then what of the leader of the Demonica, the man who had performed that horrific duty the longest?
Zephys mounted his saddle and said flatly.
“The Inquisition is people, not a place. Since when did buildings define our institution? Brother, the most sacred church is right here.”
With that, he tapped Fernandez’s chest once. But soon, he chuckled roughly.
“I say that, but revenge must be had. We should at least erect a memorial for our departed brothers.”
“Head east.”
“Shall we burn down Fairn’s royal palace?”
“No. Brother, I need you to make contact with House Dane.”
“House Dane?”
“We must open Infermer Port.”
Infermer Port was the hub of the triangular trade route connecting Fairn’s Merlinport and the North Sea Port. It was so vital that after House Dane seized it, the Fairn royals had directly intervened to check them.
And now, it had become a city of utmost symbolic importance to House Dane. Beyond mere territorial recovery, it was the city where their founding myth had returned.
So it would make a fine opening shot. As Fernandez thought this, Zephys nodded readily.
“It’ll be a long road.”
“I shall pray until we meet again. Stay safe, brother.”
“Macto.”
“Macto, et superlaudo.”
Zephys briefly made the sign of the cross and spurred his horse onward. As Fernandez watched his retreating figure, Abel approached cautiously.
“With everyone departing separately and only us left, where do we head now?”
“The hardest path.”
“The hardest path? Is it hell itself?”
“It will be that hard for me. We go to meet Kirhas.”
His daughter and Kirhas. Daughter. Fernandez rolled the heavy word around in his mouth painfully several times but could not spit it out. Daughter.
An infant whose name and face he did not even know. The sensation was still alien to him. The chubby, warm fingers of a baby, that frail grip. For a man who had once cast it aside himself, the second experience was an unexpected trial.
* * *
It had been nearly a year since the beastfolk occupied Vulrang. It was time enough for Vulrang’s natives to view these rough nomads as merely peculiar neighbors.
Kirhas’s rule maintained much the same landscape as before. It was fortunate for Vulrang and Duke Sephor’s house, but a horror for the beastfolk.
It meant suppressing the friction from two utterly different cultures coexisting in one space through brute force.
Suppressed discontent always pooled somewhere. On the verge of bursting, invisible but never vanishing.
“It happened again today, comrades.”
A beastman man with a long scar on his jaw growled. He glared fiercely at the other beastfolk gathered in the dingy tavern.
“Our great chieftain still hasn’t moved a single step from that high tower! How long has it been? How long since we rode out beyond? My brother was flogged in the market three days ago. For acting like a beastfolk! What’s the difference from slaves? Is Hearttaker the leader of beastfolk, or the great chieftain of cityfolk?”
Some men nodded vehemently in agreement, others did not. A few glanced fearfully at the tavern’s firmly locked door.
The man clicked his tongue inwardly at the sight. Cowards. The great chieftain could never detect this gathering. And even if she did, what would she do?
Then, one man stood and spoke.
“Think about our state before the great chieftain came. We were nothing but homeless bandits! Our children were dragged off by cityfolk and enslaved!”
“Nomadism was our culture, and failing to protect our young was the tribe’s weakness! Who can stop us now? The empire’s fools have lost their teeth to civil war, and that western Kirzat is exhausted from war with the White Kingdom demons!”
“So what? If you love culture so much, shall we do it the traditional way?”
With those words, the room fell silent as if doused with cold water. The traditional way. Those who questioned the great chieftain’s authority always, everywhere, earned the right to challenge—with sword and spear, staking their lives.
But they all knew. Kirhas was undefeated. Not just in strategy and tactics, but in martial prowess as well. She had earned the chieftain’s seat not through blood or backing, but through the deeds of that horrific civil war era.
Rising alone from nothing to end the civil war and forge the Tiger Clan Alliance amid surrounding civilized powers. And that was only a few years ago. Even if the great chieftain hadn’t appeared publicly lately, no one thought her strength had waned.
The beastfolk eyed each other cautiously. Meetings always ended this way. There was an issue with the great chieftain’s condition, but no one dared direct confrontation.
Then, a tsk-tsk sound of tongue-clicking echoed.
“Bunch of tail-waggers.”
The beastfolk’s heads turned as one. No one knew when he had entered, but a man stood at the tavern entrance, watching them.
The seated beastfolk immediately seized their weapons and went on alert. If word of this meeting reached the great chieftain, they’d be branded rebels—exiled or sent to the gallows.
“Who are you!”
“Those who prattle about tradition have foul mouths.”
“That voice—Blackfang elder?”
“Shouldn’t it be ‘Elder Blackfang’?”
Blackfang pulled back his hood and laughed. His eerie blue eyes gleamed amid his black hair. The men shrank at the chilling sensation. Even among the classic hawks of the elders, this one was the most vicious and venomous old cur. Deeply versed in black magic and sorcery.
Ignoring their thoughts, Blackfang strode to the center of the tavern. Savoring their tense gazes, he slowly spoke.
“Well, defeated dogs would gather like this to drown their sorrows in drink.”
“Watch your tongue, Partak Blackfang. There are many armed men here.”
“Is that so? Didn’t look like men to me.”
Partak leisurely surveyed the room. Under the tavern’s dim light, the blades reflected eerie gleams.
“Do you want to kill Great Chieftain Hearttaker?”
Even the boldest beastman gasped at the words. Partak sneered at their reaction and continued.
“Why the shock? Did all you armed ‘men’ gather in this basement just to sigh? A fine fellowship for rats.”
“……Aren’t you her right hand?”
“Me? Hahaha!”
The men watched the laughing Partak in confusion. Until now, Partak had stood behind the great chieftain, cunningly bolstering her authority. Rounding up and quietly eliminating dissenters.
No beastfolk was ignorant of it now. They saw even this sly old fox submitting to her authority as proof of her power.
That is, until she holed up in the castle to raise a child. The Kirhas Hearttaker of old was gone. Only a noblewoman adorning a dark chamber with lavish luxuries, spending time with her child, remained.
After laughing heartily for a while, Partak twitched his half-torn ear and fixed them with his gaze. His blackened fangs flashed in the light.
“The great chieftain and I served the same master, strictly speaking. Our master’s will aligned, so we moved together.”
“……Master?”
“Such a one existed. Until half a year ago.”
Was he truly dead? Like last time, had he cut contact to hide away, only to reappear someday? Partak had waited, body hunched. A month passed, two months, time flowing on.
His minions scoured the empire and church for information. Could he still be alive? Might he return?
Finally, after half a year, Partak was certain. With the empire’s search parties turning up empty and foreign spies accepting his death as public fact.
He was dead. He would never return, and the heartbroken Kirhas had become an irredeemable wreck. That was his conclusion. Thus—
‘Now is my era. The era of Partak Blackfang.’
Gratefully, while he lived, Partak had fully dominated the hawk elders of this beastfolk Tiger Clan Alliance per his plan. Though he was gone, Partak’s control remained firm. With Kirhas fallen, no one in the alliance could oppose him.
The thorn in his side, Piel, was gone too. Goldentus was preoccupied defending the great steppe’s territory, and Vulrang’s beastfolk had begun doubting Kirhas’s authority.
What better moment? Partak trembled in omnipotence, everyone dancing on his fingertips.
* * *
At that moment, three riders crossed the steppe toward Vulrang. It was a late night near summer’s end.