Chapter 385
Chapter 385
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 385
Chapter Title: Omen (4)
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How should I put this? Fernandez gazed up at the overcast sky, carefully choosing his words. One of the camps under Altbert Castle was hurriedly preparing to withdraw.
The Northerners' camp was being packed up swiftly. They now found themselves in a terribly delicate situation. Most of the refugees still here had fled from their grasp, and those same people had suddenly aided Fairn's army in battle.
Were they enemies or allies? There were too many qualms to simply treat them with outright hostility, and even if they did, there was no way to oppose them. The refugees could only watch in terror, giving a wide berth to the paths of these magnificent warriors striding about.
“Hey! Fernandez!!”
Aeren spotted him from afar and bounded over with light steps. Her pale gold hair, nearly ashen, fluttered like a painting. With her locks tousled like a lion's mane, she spoke in a husky voice.
“I was just thinking of catching a glimpse of your face before we left—perfect timing! What, you think I'd look ridiculous marching into that castle?”
“High Yar. I have urgent words...”
“Ahaha, ‘High Yar’? Why the formal tone? Loosen up, loosen up.”
Aeren laughed heartily. From her perspective, Fernandez was no different from a goose that laid golden eggs. He handled all the dangerous work alone, and even if they just grabbed some scraps and headed north, their winter preparations were already complete.
On top of that, they had forged solid diplomatic ties with the Empire and the elves—two continental superpowers. It was ideal. Once winter ended, they could dive into full-scale trade or start a mercenary business. The more opportunities to make money, the fewer starving people in the North.
But Fernandez kept his expression stiff.
“Could you have your men step back for a moment?”
“Ah, these guys are all trustworthy. Hmm... fine, whatever. Is it serious?”
“Somewhat.”
“Alright. Everyone, plug your ears, turn around, and fall back fifty paces!”
At Aeren's shout, the curious Northerners scattered. Fernandez gave a wry smile and perched on a camp chair.
“Hmm. Feels like I'm the guest here.”
“Sit. The talk won't drag on.”
“Why set the mood like this? The guy who smashed Jörmungandr, acting all spooky.”
Aeren uncorked a waterskin and filled a wooden cup for him. Fernandez took the cup, red wine sloshing inside, and chose his words once more.
“The continent will turn hostile toward the North.”
“Hm... The eastern nobles, sure. We were raiders to them, after all. Can't be helped, right?”
“Not just the east—the Empire and the Church will treat you as enemies too. Aeren, you will become a public enemy of the entire continent, and the North will be left as humanity's foes to be dealt with someday.”
“...Why?”
The smile vanished from Aeren's lips. She narrowed her eyes at Fernandez. He fiddled with his cup for a moment before speaking.
“You know the Church was favorable toward you?”
“Hm. The Holy Pantheon isn't exclusive about religions. From our side, they came straight to us and dealt with Muspell and Jörmungandr—nothing but gratitude.”
“And most of the small eastern nations you raided have recently distanced themselves from the Holy Pantheon Church.”
“...”
Fernandez tilted his cup to wet his lips. He was seasoned at discarding used-up bait, but the Feizashi of those days and he now were strictly different beings. This was far from easy anymore.
“It's no coincidence that Northerners suddenly seized an imperial ship and dipped a toe into eastern politics. That's what you're saying—that some royals will think that.”
“You catch on quick.”
“Do I look like a fool to you, Fernandez?”
It was simple logic, really. The Church had recently begun forging ties with the North. This had been revealed by the Beitasser Church, which had rallied forces for the last crusade fiasco.
The Church's saint had been carrying out some secret mission in the North. Things went awry midway, so the Church gathered troops for a northern conquest. But the saint returned, and amid the tense standoff and conflicts, the summons was lifted.
Secular monarchs weren't idiots. They were the first to sniff out the stench of political maneuvering in the sequence of events. The Church's call to arms, the disbandment without explanation, and the Empire's civil war that erupted right after.
It wasn't hard to see the correlations. It had just been forgotten amid the chaos.
So, this situation—Northerners sailing down on an imperial vessel to raid the east—was a political time bomb that would inevitably explode someday.
“You couldn't have been unaware. So, from the moment you first requested our support up to now, it was all planned?”
Aeren looked at Fernandez with hurt eyes. But he shook his head gravely.
“That in itself could be denied easily enough. That was the plan. But things have changed. Don't you know our plan?”
“The one-armed king dies, the east falls into anarchy, and a new dynasty rises. Yeah, that was it.”
“King Vicente is still very much alive, even scripting his own legend single-handedly. Pacifying the east won't be long off, but to the old dynasties who'll rebel against his reign, Northerners will make fine prey.”
An alliance of the Church, Empire, and North, using their power to establish a new eastern power. To the dispossessed old royals, that was perfect pretext.
Thus, sacrifice the North to solidify the new kingdom's foundations. That was Fernandez's revised strategy.
“You'll retreat north, and the pilgrimage knights will pursue you. With possible remnants lingering, the pilgrimage knights can naturally stay in these lands.”
The Order of St. John pilgrimage knights were a special task force. Once their tactical objective was met, they had no reason to remain.
But proclaim remnant sweeps in Dane and the eastern alliance's territory, stripped of force, and they gained justification to stay.
This pretext wasn't just for eastern royals. The strongest justification was power itself, and the east lacked forces to openly challenge the pilgrimage knights. So this pretext...
“To avert a religious war, you must be the sacrifice.”
It was to prevent schism in the Holy Pantheon Church. The pilgrimage knights' dispatch wasn't the will of the entire Church. The Pope hadn't had time to secure every sect's consent. Now, they needed justification to show the Holy Pantheon Church.
No sect would dare defy the pilgrimage knights flying the banner of purging heretics. With St. Bartholomew Monastery officially destroyed, the knights had inherited the duty to eliminate heretics and cultists.
Wielding command over the legally stationed pilgrimage knights, the Round Table knights' feats of valor, the prestige of the great king who single-handedly held off Fairn's army, and behind it all, massive imperial aid.
Now, a new dynasty would seize the east's reins. From Church and secular sides alike, flawless—the greatest dynasty on earth. Dane and the east would submit to this nation of magnificent knights—
“You'll reign as this land's true power, backed by Church and crown.”
Aeren chuckled and shook her head. Fernandez was deliberately holding back, but she wasn't stupid. Dane's royal house scripting a new legend? No, that legend surely included a knight who stood by the king against enemies.
The tale of the righteous knight ready to die with the king in the nation's darkest hour—that untold ‘legend’ Fernandez spoke of would surely enshrine it.
Aeren drained the last of her wine and stood.
“The birth of a great royal house with Church support, popular submission, and imperial aid. Swap the king's name for yours, and it fits perfectly. Fernandez.”
“That wasn't my desire.”
“So humble, even for your ambitions.”
The Emperor was favorable to him. Dane's one-armed king had been too, and the Pope no different. Aeren stroked her chin, eyeing the seated Fernandez.
“Someday, after we're all gone from this land. I'm curious how history will remember you.”
*The North will record you as a monster.* Aeren smiled deeply and took his hand. She shook the rough, callused palm vigorously in farewell—
“Is that it?”
“...What do you mean?”
“Are we done with the conscience talk, Fernandez? You look guilty for betraying us. We both know that doesn't suit you.”
Unexpectedly, Aeren's face was relieved. She giggled like a mischief-maker.
“The North gained massive food and resources, and you got your pretext and stability. Our operation succeeded. The meaning is clear. We're history's eternal villains. I have a duty to my northern people, and you have a duty to own your villainy.”
“You're fine with it?”
“Your plan? Or my villainy? Thanks for the worry, but isn't conscience a luxury for after survival? Since Erik's civil war, the North's a mess. Folks barely scraping by daily, liable to turn on neighbors any moment. Repentance comes after surviving, doesn't it?”
Aeren meant it. Friendly continental ties? Just future gains. Politics shifted constantly; she wasn't sentimental enough to cling to missed chances.
At this capable clan leader's smile, Fernandez felt his worries wash away and nodded readily.
“Now, let's talk real gains between real powers. Villains scheming wicked plots. We still have goods to trade, you and I.”
“We'll permit raids on certain ports.”
“There we go.”
Phrased reversely, his plan to scapegoat the North for internal unity meant tolerating northern hostilities. When the continent struck the North, the North striking back was justified.
Aeren called this opportunity a ‘trade good.’ The intent was obvious. No unified nation under perfect pretext lacked dissenters; they'd be the tool to crush them.
A refined mercenary contract. In truth, the war's dynamics hadn't changed. Fernandez had enemies; the North lacked resources. A win-win deal.
Barring its inhuman villainy and horrific conspiracy. The Church's saint and the reincarnated seraph exchanged knowing smirks over the handshake.
*Not sure if it suits an archangel's nature, though.*
A meaningless question. Having lost divinity and fallen as human, he couldn't be the same as before. Even he, retaining his spirituality through reincarnation, lived a life utterly different from his past.
Yet the idea of an archangel plotting amused him greatly, and Fernandez chuckled without thinking.
“So, what's next for you? Conquest? Politics?”
“Subjugation.”
Fernandez dusted his hands while staring at the campfire.
“The final task.”