Interlude (3) - Special Bonds (1)
“To prevent the apocalypse.”
“The apocalypse?”
“Yes. The complete destruction of the world.”
The Grey Sage realized the time had finally come to bear witness to the future he had seen. It was still too early to reveal such prophecies to the world at large, but for those who had stood by him through the long years, this moment felt right.
“In the original timeline, the Essil Kingdom was destined to be razed by orcs, devastated by the undead plague, and ultimately destroyed by the rise of cultists.”
That was how the Three-Headed Dragon’s Descent began, with the main scenario unfolding ten years later. The current worldline had diverged completely.
“Once the central regions were laid waste, even more vicious threats swept across the continent. Every failure to repel them caused the Apocalypse Count to rise. When that count crossed its threshold, the entire planet would be physically annihilated.”
Events that sharply increased the Apocalypse Count included the descent of angels or demons, plagues, natural disasters, and continent-spanning wars.
“Since childhood, I have witnessed visions of the world’s end—the Apocalypse Count surpassing its limit and everything perishing. No matter how loudly I warned others, no one believed me.”
In this medieval land, every village had one or two madmen who screamed that the end was nigh and scolded the people. Such antics were their only way to affirm their own existence.
“So I wandered the continent in search of a ruler who would seriously heed my prophecy of doom. Just as I was being branded a lunatic and driven from every domain I visited, an envoy arrived from the Harrington County—the rising power of the frontier.”
Cure my daughter’s madness.
If you succeed, I will grant you anything you desire.
Those were the terms.
“I accepted the invitation because I was confident I could treat the madness. While healing you, I recognized the qualities of a great monarch within you.”
The rest of the story was already known to Belladia.
“In other words…”
Belladia organized her thoughts.
“You wished to raise me into a powerful black mage and a great ruler so that I might stand at the forefront against the apocalypse.”
Tellorian nodded.
Belladia tilted her head, puzzled.
“And what if I had no interest in stopping the apocalypse?”
“You would. You care about preventing it more than anyone.”
“How can you be so certain?”
“Because you love life more than any other human being.”
Belladia had stabbed her own mother—the woman who had tried to report her to the Inquisition. Most people, no matter how desperate to survive, could never act with such ruthless resolve.
“If the world ends, you will never again enjoy murder or the abduction of pretty boys. You will never again toast while listening to the screams of the burning.”
…It was a fair point. She had always been more serious about survival than anyone else. She had been willing to pay any price to stay alive.
“But if your true goal was to stop the apocalypse, wouldn’t it have been better to nurture righteous people instead of me? Why choose me?”
Another question.
“The righteous are loyal to their own conscience rather than to another’s words. Even if I offered advice, they would either ignore it or accept only parts of it.”
Belladia had learned to interpret Tellorian’s advice as commands. After spending so many years together, she had mastered the art of reading the intentions hidden beneath his words.
“…”
“Moreover, the righteous are forever plagued by doubt and anguish. You are not.”
Belladia never hesitated when survival was at stake. She had cut down her mother in a single stroke and felt no regret even now.
“But what if I wished to kill you, Master?”
“Have you ever truly wanted to keep me alive?”
“…Hehe. So you knew.”
“There is no need to worry. I will always be stronger than you. The day you kill me will never come. I promise.”
Belladia felt a quiet sense of relief at her master’s answer. She had received confirmation that he was someone who would never waver, no matter how much she herself might falter.
“Do you enjoy tournaments?”
“You mean the jousting matches?”
“Yes.”
Belladia brought the hellsteed to a halt before the city gates. It was time to part from her master once more. He had no desire to appear before the public.
“I plan to host an extraordinarily grand jousting tournament soon—one so lavish and magnificent that bards will sing of it for a thousand years.”
The current Belladia was the wealthiest person on the continent. She alone had claimed half of the Black Tyrant’s treasures and three-tenths of the Golden Bank’s reserves.
“You intend to hold an open bridegroom selection.”
“There will be countless suitors, so I decided to give every unmarried lord an equal chance. Those who lose in a public competition will have no grounds for complaint.”
The prize for this tournament was something every man would covet: mountains of gold and jewels, the most beautiful woman at the peak of her allure, and above all, the sweet title of king…
“The most outstanding princes across the continent will participate. All I need to do is support whichever one I find most appealing.”
Under these conditions, any noble confident in his martial prowess would enter the tournament without hesitation. Surely, then, suitable candidates would appear within Belladia’s castle.
“It seems a dangerous strategy.”
“Why?”
“All the princes except the final victor will leave carrying a profound sense of loss. They will come to resent you—perhaps even hate you.”
Belladia giggled.
“And at the same time, they will long for me.”
“Hmm.”
“Someday, that longing will become the foundation I can exploit to my advantage. People always convince themselves that the opportunity they once glimpsed could have been theirs.”
…She did not need to use future sight to weigh the strategy’s validity. When it came to wielding beauty as a weapon, she was far more adept than he.
“You said you wished to stop the apocalypse, didn’t you?”
Krrrrrrrrk!
The drawbridge leading to the capital descended with the grinding of gears. Cheers from the citizens welcoming their victorious queen filled the air. The doll-like girl offered them a flawless smile and spurred her battle steed toward the royal palace.
“I will do everything in my power to help.”
“I shall look forward to it.”
“Even though everything has gone splendidly, I still feel uneasy…”
“When you feel uneasy, dwarven ale is the best remedy, brother.”
“Hah! You’ve become quite the drinker yourself!”
Gulp gulp!
Thud!
“…”
Rodrick the Iron Mace gazed out over the city from a secluded balcony. The warrior queen, returning in triumph amid universal acclaim, waved to her people.
The demon-slaying massacre maiden no longer existed.
Nor did the cursed parricide who had stabbed her own mother.
“It is all thanks to you.”
“You have said the same thing a hundred times already.”
“I still do not know how to repay this debt.”
“You are my benefactor as well, so let us call it even.”
Rodrick tilted his head.
“I am your benefactor?”
“You trusted me and supported me.”
“If I could not trust you, I would be a fool.”
At that, Tellorian silently clinked his cup against Rodrick’s.
“It seems the time has come to tell you the truth, brother.”
“About what?”
“The real reason I sought you out.”
He conveyed the prophecy of the end.
“…What became of me in the original timeline?”
“You were slain by Blacktusk and turned into a drinking cup.”
“And my daughter?”
“Belladia had many possible futures.”
Yet none of them had been as bright as the one she now enjoyed. Rodrick did not need to ask to understand.
“…What must be done to prevent the apocalypse?”
“We must consolidate our forces and gather heroes.”
“No different from what you have been doing all along.”
“It will simply be on a far more systematic scale from now on.”
“…”
Rodrick the Iron Mace fell into thought as he watched the queen’s triumphal procession. Regardless of what Tellorian said, he would follow in silence. After all, this man had turned dreams he had never dared imagine into reality.
“Just tell me what I should do.”
“There is nothing in particular I need to ask of you.”
“Hm?”
“Simply continue as the respected elder of the royal family and serve as deputy commander in wartime. And if you could father many children, that would be ideal.”
Rodrick’s expression turned puzzled.
“Many children?”
“Yes. The Harrington dynasty may appear to stand upon solid ground, but in truth it remains extremely fragile. I believe you understand what I mean.”
For the kingdom to stabilize, the dynasty itself must first be stable, and for the dynasty to be stable, it required an appropriate number of members—neither too few nor too many.
“Fortunately, there are already many houses eager to form marriage ties with the Harringtons. They are all desperate to present their finest daughters.”
He handed over a list of noblewomen, complete with portraits.
“They are all far too young.”
“Then how about the second option?”
He presented another list—this one of widows, also accompanied by portraits.
“Half of these women are widows I myself created.”
“Noblewomen are the sort who can embrace their husband’s enemy for the sake of their children’s future.”
The people of this medieval land were ruthless, and the nobles who ruled them were even more so. Women were no exception.
“Hmm…”
Rodrick examined the personal details of the widows with meticulous care. Occasionally, he lingered longer before particularly beautiful portraits.
“…Well. Thank you for your consideration.”
Yet Rodrick returned the catalog of widows. Neither the beautiful young widows still in their twenties nor the wealthy widows whose lands contained gold mines had managed to hold his gaze.
“But I believe the time is not yet right.”
“So there is already a woman in your heart.”
“How does my younger brother know about my private affairs?”
“Realistically, however, it will be difficult to achieve.”
“…There truly are no secrets before you.”
[Magic Enchantment: Ring of Infinite Possibilities]
[Attempting 1 magic enchantment]
[Supreme-grade spell enchantment]
[7th Circle, Lore of the Beast]
[Transform Monster]
The Lore Master’s spell settled into the crafted gemstone ring. Whoever wore it could transform into any monster of their choosing.
“Take it.”
“!”
“I have also prepared a matching ring for your partner. It should help the two of you get to know each other.”
Rodrick wore an awkward expression and tried to feign indifference, but in the end he accepted the ring from Tellorian.
“Ahem.”
“There is no need to feel embarrassed.”
“…This is precisely the sort of thing one ought to feel embarrassed about.”
Rodrick was a rather old-fashioned man. That was precisely why he was suited to be a ruler of this medieval land.
“And what about you?”
“?”
“You should give me grandchildren as well.”
“That will not be necessary.”
“Then anyone besides Belladia is fine. Marry and settle down. A man only truly becomes an adult once he builds a family…”
…Tellorian silenced his sworn brother’s nagging with his cup. Memories of the time he had spent with the Harringtons surfaced in his mind.
Just for today, getting drunk should be acceptable.
He had achieved no small number of accomplishments.
He had earned the right to rest this week.
“Wake up, burn victim.”
“…Mm?”
“How much did you drink that you cannot rise no matter how many times I call?”
Along with the silver serpent’s voice came the aroma of goat soup tickling his nose. The hangover soup Aeltanar prepared was always delicious.
“Stop waking me. This week is my vacation.”
For the past four years he had not enjoyed a single night of deep sleep. So this week he would catch up on all the rest he had missed, then decide what to do next.
“A friend has come to lodge a complaint.”
“?”
“They are demanding the return of the spoils you stole.”
Oh dear.
The bidding deadline had already passed.