Chapter 7
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 7
Chapter Title: Imperial Scum
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‘I hope he doesn’t pull any more weird stunts.’
Gilberton found himself worrying as he watched the annex Adrianna had entered.
“Hmm, should I chop off his head, or carve out his heart?”
Just then, a petite woman with her hair in two braids tilted her head irritably. It was Mardian, who was pathologically obsessed with Adrianna.
“No, I will be the one to crush his head.”
A man as massive as a bear, Hermun, muttered in a low voice. The air around him seemed to grow heavy.
“Get lost. I’m going to rip out his guts and spread them on bread.”
“You’re the one who should get lost. Dealing with the bastard who insulted Adrianna is my job.”
Gilberton clicked his tongue at their pointless squabbling.
“Galahad, what kind of man is he?”
Lunabern asked in a calm voice. All eyes turned to Gilberton.
“That's right! Gilberton! I told you to kill him on the way here! Just say some bandits or wolves got him!”
Mardian chided in a sharp voice. Her obsession with Adrianna was famous. She wasn't called 'Mad' Mardian for nothing.
“What kind of man is he?”
As for what kind of man Galahad was—.
“A con man.”
Galahad told pointless jokes and boasted that he was a brilliant mage.
But seeing him struggle against a lord with just a bit of demon blood, he was clearly a bluffing con man.
“I have to kill him! He’s bound to deceive the innocent Lady Adrianna with that wicked tongue of his! I have to pull it out!”
“A con man, you say. A nobody, then.”
The murderous conversation resumed.
‘Though he seemed to have something more to him.’
Every time he saw him, the man was disquieting, like a fishbone stuck in his throat. Gilberton swallowed the rest of his thoughts.
The annex door opened, and Adrianna emerged. Mardian twitched like a dog desperate to relieve itself.
“What did that bastard do? I’ll go chop off his head right now. Or at least an arm—.”
Adrianna subtly hid one of her hands behind her back. At that slight reaction, Mardian’s face hardened.
“He held my hand.”
For a fleeting moment, Adrianna wore an expression they had never seen before. But just as quickly, her usual impassive face returned as if nothing had happened.
The atmosphere instantly grew sharp, but Adrianna didn't seem to notice.
She never paid attention to anything that wasn't the front lines.
“But wasn't he a mage? It would be even more painful for him, then—.”
Adrianna nodded at Lunabern’s question.
The fact that Adrianna burned mana was known to everyone here.
Even non-mages would often faint from the excruciating pain the moment they made the slightest contact with Adrianna.
And that pain grew more severe the larger one’s mana was. For a mage to hold her hand—.
“He must have screamed in agony! Ahaha! The fool! That’s what he gets for daring to touch Lady Adrianna!”
“He probably pissed and shat himself! Stupid bastard! A shame I didn't get to see it.”
Everyone raised their voices, mocking the foolish mage.
Knowing the pain involved, no one questioned it.
As the story grew more exaggerated, with some claiming the bastard had bitten off his own tongue and died in agony, Adrianna opened her mouth.
“He interlaced his fingers with mine. Said he was curious about the principle behind it—.”
At Adrianna’s calm voice, the ones who had been chattering so loudly fell silent.
Even the mad Mardian had only ever managed a brief, light touch.
But for a mage to interlace his fingers with hers—.
A variety of expressions appeared on everyone’s faces. Anger, irritation, disbelief—. The expressions differed, but they were all rooted in shock.
Even Mardian could only open and close her mouth, speechless.
‘He really is a madman.’
He’d created a bizarre atmosphere when he killed the lord, and now he’d interlaced their fingers, claiming to be curious about the principle—.
Gilberton laughed out loud before he could stop himself.
Adrianna’s gaze turned to him.
“Gilberton, you will remain here and protect him.”
It was an unexpected command.
Adrianna always prioritized the front lines. Even she herself never left them. To assign a key soldier like Gilberton to guard duty—. It was an uncharacteristic deployment for her.
“...Yes, understood.”
Though he had his doubts, Gilberton simply nodded without asking.
“The rest of us will return immediately.”
“Will you not see the Grand Duke before you leave?”
“A report came in about suspicious demon activity. We’re returning at once.”
Adrianna shook her head at Lunabern’s question.
“Isn’t it because your power has weakened, Lady Adrianna? There’s no way he could endure that pain!”
Just then, Mardian shouted, her eyes full of disbelief.
Adrianna shook her head, but it was no use with the crazed Mardian. Her hand was already on the back of Adrianna’s.
They all had similar thoughts. How could any person endure that pain? A mage, no less—. The idea that Adrianna had grown weaker seemed plausible.
“I will show you that my love is greater than that of a bastard like him….”
“Aargh!” Mardian shrieked and fainted. Her eyes rolled back, and she drooled from the mouth.
Lunabern sighed and tended to her.
‘Just how crazy is that bastard?’
Gilberton quietly clicked his tongue.
“I’m not fully recovered yet, so I’ll stay a little longer before I leave.”
At that moment, Hermun spoke, his face so murderous it was obvious he was planning something. His face was filled with rage.
Hermun was as sturdy as a demon, yet he claimed he wasn't fully recovered—. It was a clear excuse. He didn't even seem to be trying to hide it.
However, as always, Adrianna paid it no mind.
Hermun was of no importance to her.
“Understood. Return when you have fully recovered. Your health is the top priority.”
‘This is going to be a pain.’
Gilberton clicked his tongue as he watched Hermun readjust his grip on his axe.
Then it occurred to him that it might be nice to see Galahad take a punch.
Just one punch should be fine, right?
Yeah, that seemed fine.
***
‘…My mana is burning.’
Galahad lamented, looking at his tingling hand.
The sensation of his mana burning was truly, indescribably awful. It felt like every single one of his blood vessels was being meticulously roasted with a blowtorch.
‘Burning mana with a mere touch. How is that even possible?’
It wasn't a metaphor; his mana was literally burning.
Even Galahad, who had attended the Academy and then the Intelligence Bureau, had never heard of such a thing.
If he told this to any mage in the capital, he'd surely get beaten with a staff.
In the study of magic, mana was considered immutable. Magic was simply the act of humans adding properties to it through formulas or incantations; it did not alter the mana itself.
Because pure mana was noble, sublime, and unchangeable.
But Adrianna had literally burned pure mana.
This was a historic discovery. As a mage, Galahad had no choice but to take Adrianna’s hand.
‘There’s something here.’
With a trembling hand, he took out a cigarette and placed it between his lips. He flicked his fingers out of habit, but there was no reaction.
‘No mana left. If I’d held on a little longer, I might have died.’
Galahad smiled bitterly.
“Is anyone there?”
“Do you need something?”
The reply came from behind him. He looked up to see Gilberton looking down at him with an expression of pity.
How long had he been there? The alarm magic didn't go off—. Ah, right. I have no mana.
“Don’t you know how to knock?”
“I did.”
It seemed he had been too engrossed in magic to hear.
It was Galahad’s chronic problem. Whenever magic was involved, he had a hard time controlling himself. It was both his weakness and the driving force that had brought him this far.
“Got a light?”
“Doesn’t fire come out of your fingers?”
“My mana’s all burned up.”
With a small click of his tongue, Gilberton took something out. It was a small flint.
“How barbaric. Don’t you have a lighter or matches?”
“This is the North.”
Barbarians. He clicked his tongue at Gilberton’s reply. Gilberton struck the flint in front of Galahad.
*Click, clack.* It was a little dangerous, but it lit the cigarette perfectly. The refreshing scent of lemon filled the air.
“You have a lot of cigarettes.”
“They’re mana cigarettes.”
Gilberton looked like he didn't understand, but Galahad didn't bother to explain. It was a difficult concept to explain to a non-mage anyway. There was no need. Gilberton didn't ask any further.
“How was it?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Lady Adrianna, I mean.”
At Gilberton's question, Galahad's thoughts drifted back to Adrianna. The property of burning mana—. Ah… His thoughts began to race again.
“I asked how she was.”
Gilberton's disgruntled voice broke his reverie. The cherry of his cigarette had gone out. Galahad clicked his tongue and put another one in his mouth.
Gilberton held out the flint again. Galahad shook his head and flicked his fingers. A faint flame sparked to life at his fingertip.
“Didn’t you say you were out of mana?”
“That’s why I smoked a mana cigarette, isn’t it?”
Gilberton narrowed his eyes. Galahad took a deep drag from the cigarette.
“So, how was she?”
Impatient, aren't we? Galahad clicked his tongue and answered.
“She was damn beautiful.”
“I told you she was the most beautiful on the continent.”
“Yeah, prettier than the princess.”
“...You’ve met the princess?”
“It just happened. If you ever meet the princess, avoid her at all costs. She’s a crazy woman.”
“Such bravado—.”
Gilberton clicked his tongue. He clearly didn’t believe him. Galahad didn't bother to explain.
“So, is that all?”
Gilberton pressed again, as if there was a specific answer he wanted.
Galahad thought for a moment. Adrianna’s beauty was certainly the best on the continent, but that wasn't what interested him.
It was her mana-burning property.
“I want to touch her again. This time, for a little longer—.”
“……”
Gilberton’s face crumpled in an instant. Seeing the disgust on Gilberton’s face, Galahad realized his words had sounded a bit strange.
However, he found Gilberton’s reaction amusing and didn't correct himself.
Galahad slowly exhaled a cloud of smoke. His dizzy mind gradually began to settle.
‘Burns mana—.’
Galahad took out his leather notebook and checked its contents. Gilberton craned his neck to see, but it didn't matter.
“What language is that?”
“The language used in my hometown.”
“Wasn’t your hometown the capital?”
“It is.”
“……?”
He gave a vague answer and checked the notebook.
[The Demon King was engulfed in flames and staggered greatly.]
‘So this was Adrianna.’
It was the most emphasized of the three crises the Demon King had faced. Probably—. He wasn't certain.
He had once dedicated himself to fire-based magic, thinking the Demon King was weak to fire. Even now, his specialty was fire magic.
‘I made the right choice coming to the North.’
To think I’d get such a big clue right after coming to the North, after all that time toiling away at the Intelligence Bureau with nothing to show for it—. He grinned, feeling as if a long-aching tooth had finally been pulled.
Adrianna was the key. He had to stick by her side somehow to study her—.
‘What’s the problem? I’m her fiancé.’
Galahad clapped his hands softly and laughed.
“I’d like to touch my fiancée. Would you guide me to her?”
“…?”
“Ah, I meant to say I wanted to see her. A slip of the tongue.”
Seeing the look of disgust on Gilberton’s face, Galahad changed his words.
“...Lady Adrianna has returned to the front lines.”
She's already gone back? Is this what they call playing hard to get?
Galahad shot up from his seat.
“Excellent! Then let’s go to the front lines. I was just getting curious about them.”
“Do you think the front lines are some backyard hill? And aren’t you currently under confinement by order of the Grand Duke?”
“Was I confined?”
“Don’t pretend you didn’t know.”
“Hmm, then to lift this ban on going out, I suppose I’ll have to meet the Grand Duke first. Take me to him.”
“...The Grand Duke is a busy man. If you make an appointment now, you might be able to see him in about a year.”
Gilberton stared at Galahad with a look that said, ‘Is this bastard an idiot?’
He didn't seem to be joking. A year was too long—.
‘Should I just tear the place down?’
He seriously considered it, looking at the wall beside him. He had already scouted the routes on his way here. He could think of about five ways to do it. Wrecking things was Galahad's specialty.
*Knock, knock.*
Someone knocked on the door. It was a polite knock, so it wasn't Gwen. Gilberton opened the door.
The person who had knocked was a middle-aged man with a stylishly grown goatee.
“Imperial scum! The Grand Duke summons you!”
The goatee’d man said in crude Imperial language.
At that, Galahad looked at Gilberton and grinned.
“Ah, actually, I made a reservation a year ago.”
Gilberton’s face soured.
He really was fun to tease.
“Ah, by the way, I’m not ‘Imperial scum,’ I’m Galahad.”
“Imperial scum! Follow me!”
This time, Gilberton snickered.
***
‘Why did the Grand Duke summon me?’
Galahad straightened his appearance in the mirror. His eyes were sunken from lack of sleep. As he put a cigarette in his mouth to clear his drowsy mind, the goatee’d man hastily stopped him.
“A cigarette! Imperial scum! Have you lost your mind?!”
His Imperial language was stilted, almost like a direct translation.
“It’s not a cigarette, it’s a mana cigarette. It has a very fragrant lemon scent that the Grand Duke will surely enjoy. No one dislikes the scent of lemon.”
“No! You must not! Refrain!”
Faced with such firm refusal, Galahad took one last drag from his cigarette and put it out.
The Grand Duke's summons was unexpected. To suddenly call for him after keeping him locked up all this time—. The most likely reason was Adrianna's visit.
‘She said she was visiting in secret, but it seems he knew everything.’
Unlike her perfect, cold appearance, was she a bit slow in the head?
“Imperial scum! Your hair! Slick it back!”
“It’s not Imperial scum. It’s Galahad—.”
At the goatee's scolding, he clicked his tongue and slicked his hair back with pomade. His handsome face was clearly revealed.
He winked at his reflection. Behind him, Gilberton made a small retching sound. Such petty jealousy.
He followed the goatee’d man to the Grand Duke.
The Grand Duke’s mansion was so vast it felt like you could walk forever and never reach the end. It was grand enough to understand his nickname, the King of the North.
The interior of the mansion was filled with soldiers and knights. It was hard to tell if it was a mansion or a military training facility.
Everywhere he went, sharp glares followed him. Some even hurled insults.
“Gilberton, those guys just insulted me. Go teach them a lesson.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“Not to me, to them.”
“All talk, you bastard.”
“Hmm, that’s enough. It seems your merciless insults have made them reflect on their actions.”
“Greasy bastard.”
Their military strength was greater than the intelligence reports had indicated. And this was just the Grand Duke's mansion, not the front lines. There were surely far more troops at the front.
So the Intelligence Bureau has its holes. Galahad was quietly impressed.
Soon, they reached a massive door. Two armored knights stood guard before it.
“Halt.”
A man with sharp, hawk-like eyes stopped them. His beard was white, but his build and aura were menacing. An old veteran.
The goatee’d man explained, but the white-haired knight ignored him and gestured to Galahad.
“Any weapons?”
At the question, Galahad chuckled. Asking a mage if he had any weapons—. The northerners certainly didn’t know much about mages.
Still, not wanting to make it awkward, he offered the cigarette butt from his pocket. The knight’s face contorted in disgust.
The knight produced a pair of thick shackles. They looked familiar. They were mana-suppressing cuffs.
‘They have these?’
Mana-suppressing cuffs were items that possessed the property of disrupting the flow of mana. They were made by applying the properties of high-ranking demons, something he had only seen back in his rookie days at the Intelligence Bureau.
Seeing them here brought back memories.
“Imperial scum! Mage scum! Put on! Cuffs!”
At the goatee's crude translation, Galahad put on the cuffs.
‘It’s been a while.’
He was suddenly reminded of his rookie days at the Bureau. They weren't particularly fond memories. *Tap, tap.* His fingers drummed against the cuffs.
“From here! Alone! You go! Imperial scum!”
“That… It’s not Imperial scum, it’s Galahad. And he’s already closed it.”
He clicked his tongue at the roughly slammed door.
The room was large and ornate. Its grandeur didn't come from luxuries like jewels.
Swords and spears were displayed everywhere, and the corpses of horrific monsters were mounted on the walls. If a demon taxidermy museum existed, wouldn't this be it?
‘So this is what demons look like.’
Since demons were rare in the Empire, he'd had few opportunities to see one.
Besides, the Intelligence Bureau mostly dealt with humans.
Occasionally, a demon would pop up, but handling them was another department’s job. Galahad’s department—.
The sense of a presence broke his train of thought. At the far end of the room, a man was seated on a massive chair, almost lounging.
Given the atmosphere, he had to be the Grand Duke. If not, things would be rather strange.
Perhaps it was a coat made from demon hide; on each shoulder rested a large head, baring pointed fangs. It looked quite warm.
He looked less like a nobleman and more like a very famous demon hunter. Even through the thick coat, you could feel the solid muscle beneath.
Added to that were his thick, tiger-like features and piercing gaze—.
The ruler of the North, the Grand Duke.
‘He doesn’t look that busy.’
Galahad hid his inner thoughts and paid his respects.
“I greet the eternal shield of the Empire.”
He heard the sound of the Grand Duke rising. The heavy footsteps, mingled with a metallic clang, sounded like those of an executioner.
Galahad fought the urge to scratch his neck.
There was no reason for the Grand Duke to cut off his head.
Not because Galahad’s head was valuable. On the contrary, it was because it was too light.
Compared to the political issues entangled with his engagement to Adrianna, Galahad’s head was infinitely trivial.
If the Grand Duke were incompetent enough not to know that much, the northern front would have collapsed long ago. Either consumed by the Empire or invaded by the demons—.
His calculations complete, Galahad slowly raised his head.
Piercing blue eyes looked down at him. Meeting his gaze felt like his own eyes were being seared.
‘He doesn’t look anything like his daughter.’
If even a fraction of that grim face had been mixed in, she could never have possessed such beauty.
Galahad forced a smile.
Just then, the Grand Duke’s shoulder moved. The moment he saw it, all calculations vanished from his mind, and trained instinct took over.
Galahad’s wrist twisted fluidly. Their hands brushed past each other in a blur.
The Grand Duke’s massive hand stopped beside Galahad’s head. A sharp chill tickled his temple.
“A wolf-like bastard, aren't you.”
The Grand Duke chuckled, looking at Galahad’s hand aimed at his throat. In that hand, a condensed blade of ice had already formed.
“An occupational hazard.”
Galahad replied, trying to suppress his tension.
*Thud.* The mana-suppressing cuffs tumbled to the floor.
“They said these could cripple any decent mage. What a piece of trash.”
The Grand Duke clicked his tongue, looking at the broken cuffs.
“That’s because I’m not just any decent mage.”
At Galahad’s reply, the Grand Duke’s smile widened.
“Insolent.”
But I was trying to be as humble as possible—.
Galahad forced himself to swallow his retort.