Chapter 75
Chapter 75
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 75
Chapter Title: Operation Report: Traveling Circus
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*
Fernandez tightened the bandage wrapped around his forearm and took a sip of tea. The ruins of Pantheon Street were in the midst of reconstruction. The Beitasser Church, which had earned the greatest merit in this battle, was progressing the fastest, already beginning to resemble a proper church.
“...Fernandez. Do you have a moment...?”
“Ah, Kirhas. Want to spar?”
“My benefactor... Is your arm alright?”
The moment Abel cautiously stepped into the church, Fernandez shot to his feet and approached Kirhas, who was pretending not to notice while sitting nearby. Kirhas glanced at Abel before speaking.
“Didn’t the Shield priestess tell you to rest absolutely?”
“Demonica muscles are more stable with some exercise anyway.”
“W-Well...”
As Kirhas broke into a slight cold sweat, Abel stormed over with an angry expression.
“Fernandez!! How long do you intend to avoid me!”
A swordsman at the peak infuses mana into their body. That was Fernandez’s thought as he watched her. Abel’s golden locks were lifting slightly, rippling in the air!
“Ah, wait, hold on. Abelissas...”
“Abel!”
“...Abel.”
“That’s right! What in the world is going on!”
Ever since the incident had wrapped up, Fernandez had been avoiding Abel. To be precise, he’d been making every effort to avoid being alone with her.
Abel was going mad. Dain’s cloak, Dain’s sword. And even Dain’s swordsmanship! Something must have happened after he vanished from the palace that day, but the Fernandez who returned had a completely different vibe and strangely refused to talk with her.
Abel lowered her angrily raised eyes sadly and whispered.
“Don’t you need me anymore...?”
His sword aura had developed astonishingly, and though limited, he occasionally displayed overwhelming magical prowess. Did Fernandez even need her anymore? The moment that thought crossed her mind, it felt like the sky was collapsing.
Unless she transformed into a dragon, she was just a skilled, slightly tougher human knight. As Abel let out a self-deprecating sigh, Fernandez said in a fluster.
“That’s not it!”
“Then why are you acting like this?”
He couldn’t tell her that fragments of King Dain’s soul were mixed in, making his heart turmoil every time he looked at her. Fernandez stared into Abel’s blue eyes before slightly turning his head away.
He couldn’t face her directly.
‘Damn it. Feizashi. This is driving me insane.’
-Don’t just seek me out when you need something.
‘Don’t be childish. Find a solution.’
-Emotions are byproducts of the flesh, and flesh is disposable. How about dying once? It’ll heal your wounds too.
‘Shut up with that nonsense.’
Feizashi chuckled and vanished. Useless bastard. Fernandez grew increasingly anxious watching Abel, who was on the verge of tears.
Fragments of King Dain’s soul whispered for him to comfort her quickly.
‘It’s phantom pain. These aren’t real emotions for me. I’m just an outlet for them, not a puppet.’
Fernandez took a deep breath and looked down at Abel. Her eyes were wet with tears, her gaze cast downward sadly.
“Fine. What is it you want to say?”
“Finally willing to talk? Yes, good. About your sword and that swordsmanship, and what happened there...”
Abel’s eyes widened with joy. Nearly ten days had passed since the situation resolved, and she hadn’t had a proper conversation with Fernandez. In this era, aside from Fernandez and Kirhas, she had no one she could talk to comfortably.
“Yes, sit here. Where should I start...”
-Creeeak.
Just as he spoke, the church entrance swung wide open, and a man entered. He removed his helmet, tucked it under his arm, and saluted crisply. Papnarmere, the new lord of Althais.
Abel glared at him as if she might devour him. Realizing the legendary dragon was glaring at him, he paled slightly.
“Ah, Lord Papnarmere. What brings you?”
“Lord Albert, His Highness seeks you.”
“Me?”
“A missive has arrived from the Beitasser Papal Court. And envoys from Fairn have come.”
“Lead the way.”
Fernandez gave Abel a slight bow and rose from his seat. Abel shot Papnarmere one last glare before crossing her arms and sitting back down.
“You’d better come back and explain everything.”
“I will.”
“You must.”
“...I must.”
“Go on, then.”
Fernandez and Papnarmere left the church. Under the clear weather and early spring sun, reconstruction efforts bustled throughout the city.
“Envoys from Fairn, huh? Bad timing.”
“They must be eager to see for themselves. They’ve surely heard the rumors of the capital half-destroyed.”
“Are you considering war?”
“If I were the Fairn royals, I’d be seriously contemplating it.”
Papnarmere displayed a gravity unusual for a young knight. Knights his age typically threw their lives away on battlefields drunk on honor, but he resembled his grandfather more.
The Steel Knight, Bayemere. Fernandez saw Bayemere’s final moments reflected in the young knight walking beside him.
“But now the Round Table Council is being rebuilt, and knights from across the nation gather to swear fealty to the new king. Starting a war at such a time.”
Bayemere had gazed at the giant’s skull on the boulevard leading to the palace and laughed. His brown curls shone brilliantly in the sunlight.
“Well, then we’d find out who’s stronger—the Round Table Knights or Fairn’s Griffin Knights, wouldn’t we?”
*
Vicente was still unaccustomed to the metal accessory atop his head. He kept readjusting the crown pressing down on his hair.
“Your demeanor is slipping, Your Majesty.”
“Haha, Lord Palliamein. Dignity doesn’t come from posture.”
“You speak smoothly as ever.”
Palliamein chuckled and followed behind Vicente. The long corridor to the throne room was filled with tense knights. They bowed one by one in time with Vicente’s steps. As he walked among them, Vicente said.
“What do you think the Fairn envoys are planning?”
“They probably calculate that even attacking now wouldn’t draw condemnation from the other nations. And whether the Dain Kingdom is weak enough to devour. Something like that.”
“Likely. Haha.”
Palliamein watched the young king walking and laughing beside him. Through the columns of the corridor, early spring sunlight streamed in through the windows, illuminating the king’s face radiantly.
Gazing into those emerald eyes like a lion’s, complex emotions stirred. Once, the previous king, Helga, had that same youthful vigor.
Reaching the stone door intricately carved with a dragon’s visage, the guards bowed politely and hurriedly opened it. The doors parted smoothly, revealing the throne room.
-Creeeak.
“Successor to the great King Dain, head of the Round Table Council, master of thousands of knights, lord of the war trumpet—Long live King Vicente!”
“Glory to the royal house!!”
The knights filling the throne room rose as one and shouted. The envoys from the Fairn royals stood terrified in one corner. Vicente strode past them confidently, crossing the carpet to the forbidden zone.
Palliamein stepped away to mingle with the crowd. Vicente ascended alone to the dais with the throne. The red carpet yielded softly underfoot. Smiling in satisfaction at the feel, he reclined on the throne.
“Eternal glory to you, my honorable vassals. Let us begin.”
-Shing. Thunk!
The throne room’s forbidden zone—meaning no armed entry—also implied arms were permitted within the chamber itself.
Not a single knight gathered here lacked fame. They drew their swords in unison and stabbed them into the floor. Standing in a circle around the center, forming a ring.
The Round Table Council was reviving.
Vicente grinned fiercely down at them. Their swords gleamed blindingly in the sunlight. The throne room had no ceiling. Ah, the legend returned in our era had torn it off.
“Now, my lords. Riders of the royal house. I convene the Round Table Council. Speak.”
At the king’s words, every knight in attendance closed their eyes in emotion, trembling briefly. How long had it been since the council last met? The Council of Ten Thousand Swords, the Round Table Council. The Dain royal house’s supreme assembly, comprising thirteen Round Table Knights and their vassals, now began.
*
[Special Operation Report: Traveling Circus]
Operation Area: Dain Kingdom, Altbert.
Operation Summary: Investigation of heretics lurking across the Dain Kingdom, suppression of Fairn royal war risks, investigation of Dain royal house.
Operation Progress:
1) Detected heretic activity near Jest County.
2) Discovered illegal refugee camp engaging in cannibalism during regional investigation; executed purge.
3) Made contact with Iron Side local agents from the Re Bainter Empire in the refugee camp.
4) Discovered wraiths from the Necropolis during refugee camp investigation; eliminated.
5) Explored Jest County to eliminate Necropolis remnants; tracked and eliminated.
6) Made contact with King Vicente (Prince Helga at time of contact) in Jest County.
7) Accompanied the king, conducted investigation in Altbert.
8) Precisely located heretics in Altbert marketplace; conducted witch trial.
9) Detected Necropolis wraith; ascertained it was impersonating King Helga.
10) Accompanied King Vicente; eliminated Necropolis wraith (Attachment 1: Royal Letter).
11) City functions halted due to undead giant rampage within the city.
12) Massive undead incident erupted outside the city (Attachment 2: Altkern Battle Report).
13) Engaged and eliminated undead giant.
14) Restored royal functions and conducted coronation.
15) Failed to detect additional heretics in Altbert. Estimated fully purified.
16) Requested disaster relief statement from Pantheon Church (Attachment 3: Statement Request).
17) Secured friendly relations and support pact with King Vicente (Attachment 4: Unofficial Beitasser Papal Letter).
Operation Task Force Team.
1) Demonica, Fernandez Cerned – Returned
2) Torchman, Kirhas Hearttaker – Returned
3) Torchman, Abel – Returned
4) Heretica, Barrein – Deceased
We shall burn demons, heretics, and witches.
Operation Commander: Demonica Fernandez Cerned.
*
-Thud.
Beorn practically slammed the report down and carefully polished his monocle. He met Zephys’s gaze with eyes blackened by fatigue. This was the tenth time Beorn had done this, and Zephys merely shrugged without a word.
“What do you think?”
“Excellent.”
“Excellent?”
Beorn closed his eyes briefly. Suppress Fairn royal war risks with the Dain Kingdom without revealing priestly status. That had been his order. The best outcome would be diplomatic victory; the worst, sparking war.
But intervening in royal succession? A giant in the capital? Necropolis? Re Bainter Empire’s Iron Side agents? Massive undead military uprising? The newly ascended king sending an envoy to the Beitasser Church before the Shield Church?
Question marks filled Beorn’s mind. He shook his heavy head to dispel them and sighed. Zephys smirked and said.
“One thing’s certain: this report isn’t complete.”
He tapped the report. Beorn nodded. The moment it had been submitted, he’d dispatched Heretica agents for on-site investigation.
“Right. No mention of the dragon.”
“He wouldn’t make that mistake. He hid it intentionally.”
“Do you know why?”
“Same reason he hid the rumor of becoming Shield’s saint from us?”
“And the rumor of King Dain’s reincarnation?”
“Probably.”
Beorn clutched his throbbing head and groaned. When local Heretica agents investigated, rumors had spread through Altbert of King Dain’s reincarnation appearing as Shield’s saint. It hadn’t taken long to realize it meant Fernandez.
No idea how he’d done it. Whether truly blessed or not, the citizens saw him as Shield’s saint and the Knight King’s earthly proxy.
And cleverly, when ancient peril struck, Fernandez claimed the Knight King had descended to protect the people, affirming the Dain royal legitimacy—and promptly endorsed King Vicente.
Masterfully political: Shield’s saint backing the Dain royals deterred Fairn’s war plans, while the Beitasser Church stayed neutral in this diplomatic skirmish.
And doubtless, the Papal Court was buried under protests from the Shield Church.
“...The Shield saint advisory delegation?”
“They’ll take another month to arrive. In the meantime...”
“The great Knight Albert will vanish like a bubble. Neatly done.”
“Wonder if he really received Shield’s blessing.”
“Doesn’t matter either way.”
Beorn shook his head. Whether he bore Shield’s stigmata or not, Fernandez had reaped all political gains as Shield’s saint and slipped away before the burdens hit.
Beorn stroked his rosary and sighed deeply.
‘If he weren’t an Inquisitor, what would he have become?’
Inquisitors hunted demons; heretics worshipped them. A paper-thin difference. An Inquisitor’s talents mirrored those of heretics and cultists. Beorn thought it fortunate inwardly as he filed the report away.