Permanent Occupation (4)
Chris stared out the window with a haggard expression, starlight pooling on the sill. He extended a finger toward the glass and muttered under his breath.
"Collapse."
Nothing happened. With both wind and mana lying dormant, the clouds simply drifted by, indifferent. Chris bit down hard on his lip and clenched his fist. He tried to summon a word vile enough to curse his younger brother, but no fresh vocabulary remained.
Raking a hand through his orange hair, he slumped into the chair. The desk was buried under a mountain of crumpled paper.
MIREN PORT OPENS! SOUTHERN FRUITS POUR IN!
THE LIZARDMAN DELEGATION'S ADORABLE MISCONCEPTION!
ONWARD TO LESTER CITY, EVER ONWARD!
Each sheet was stamped with propaganda trumpeting his brother's achievements, all of it churned out by the publicity bureau under the intelligence agency.
'Insidious little bastard.'
Not a single word in those printouts would hold up as truth. He was certain they'd been fabricated by hired writers for the sole purpose of driving a man locked in a tower to madness. Did people know? How much filthy scheming festered beneath that angelic face?
A sudden flutter of wings. A crow landed on the windowsill. Chris glared at it without so much as blinking. The crow beat its wings again and hopped closer to the bars.
Caw-caw-caw-caw───
Black smoke billowed from the crow's body like fog. Shrouded in the haze, it transformed into the figure of a clean-featured young man. He swept his glossy black hair back and tied it, his entire frame wrapped in clothing dark as a funeral shroud.
"You're here early, Stanis."
Chris said with a sneer.
"My apologies, Lord Chris. There was much that required my attention."
"More important than your master rotting in a cell, I see. Is that it? A man who can't even hold his title as duke is of no further use to you?"
Chris seized the bars and shouted with raw fury. Stanis bowed his head in silence.
"That is not the case. I wished to remain at your side as much as possible, but I was summoned by the Lofty Will, and the delay was unavoidable."
"Then break me out."
"..."
"What are you waiting for? Get me out of here."
"..."
"Hey, don't screw with me. I've done everything you told me to. You said kill that bastard, so I tried to do it myself. You said open the gates, so I opened them. And after all that obedience, what do I have to show for it? Has even one of your plans actually worked?"
Chris's voice grew rougher with every word.
"And Andrassy! Why did that great demon duke run away without even fighting? He calls himself a demon duke, and if that bastard had actually fought, would I be in this miserable state?"
His final words bordered on a scream.
"Lord Chris."
Stanis spoke in a tone devoid of feeling.
"To give you the conclusion first, I do not possess the power to extract you from this prison."
"...What?"
Chris's mouth trembled.
"Don't joke with me, you bastard. You can do anything."
"This is no joke."
Stanis extended his hand forward. His fingers stopped against an invisible barrier just before the bars.
"It's just a warding field. Smash it."
"This is no ordinary ward."
"Simple or complex, I said smash it!"
"Do you happen to know Lord Iden's epithet?"
"Do I look like I have time to gossip?"
"Myriad."
Stanis's cold voice cut through the night air.
"It means one who commands ten thousand abilities. Lord Iden wields power truly unbound by the constraints of Awoken Abilities. The variety of abilities he deployed at the Battle of Andrassy was beyond counting on both hands. He is believed to possess a genuine understanding of the essence of mana itself. That is the Lofty Will's answer to why he withdrew without fighting."
"...What?"
"It is a relief to see your face after so long."
Stanis gripped the brim of his hat.
"I shall take my leave. May fate bring us together again."
He gave a slight bow. Chris's eyes went wide.
"W-wait!"
Stanis froze mid-turn.
"You're really not going to get me out of here?"
"As I said, my talents are insufficient to stand against Lord Iden."
"But you always... you always did something for me, didn't you? If it's beyond your ability, then ask that Lofty Will or whatever it's called for help!"
"Lord Chris."
Stanis's gaze cooled.
"The one I serve is not your god. He always demands a price for every blessing. And that price is, at times, cruel beyond measure."
"...I don't care."
Chris murmured with a hollow voice.
"Look at me. Stripped of everything by my own brother, locked in a cell the size of a closet, wallowing in humiliation. My life is already hell. Whatever price I have to pay, it means nothing to me."
"Whatever price, you say."
"That's right. I'm more worried about whether there's anything left of me worth taking."
"You need not worry about that."
Stanis declared with a cold smile.
"You still... the young master still possesses a great deal worth taking."
― Death is coming for you.
When Loki had boarded the cruise ship, a man had warned him that the King of the Seas would soon meet his end.
In truth, Loki was a rigid man who lived and died by regulation. He certainly had the skill to justify his hefty bounty, but he was never the cruel monster the rumors made him out to be.
How could the legend and the man be so different?
The answer lay hidden in the stories Alkaraz refugees whispered among themselves.
To the citizens of the Empire, Loki was nothing more than a pirate. But to the displaced people of Alkaraz, he was a hero of their nation. For refugees drowning in the helplessness of a stolen homeland, how exhilarating must it have been to hear of Loki's exploits, picking off imperial nobles one by one?
They passed his stories from mouth to mouth, and in doing so, they forged the terrifying image of the King of the Seas. In the end, that title was a collective vessel for the hopes and longing of an entire displaced people.
And how did I know all this?
...I didn't. I had no idea this many people would show up just from hearing Loki's name.
"At this point, aren't you basically their rallying point?"
I asked, watching the refugees stream into Miren Port. Loki responded with an awkward smile.
"You flatter me. I'm nothing but a worthless pirate."
"What's wrong with being a pirate? Who else fought as hard for their country as you did?"
"Plenty of people. I just happened to get lucky and become famous."
"Well, all these people came looking for you, so don't let them down."
"When you say don't let them down, what exactly..."
"Lord of Stormrock."
Loki's eyes went wide.
"I-I'm with the Maritime Bureau. According to regulation... the Codex states—"
"Temporary. Once we find a proper lord, I'll send you back to sea, so relax."
Loki visibly relaxed. I grinned at his flustered expression.
Reclaiming Stormrock would be no easy task. The priests had only purified the land. Fields to till, walls to raise, houses to build, an army to organize—an endless gauntlet of hardship awaited them.
Building a city from bare wilderness demanded trustworthy leadership more than brilliant administration. Administrators could be hired after the city existed.
"Lord Iden."
I was on my way back from parting with Loki when a brown-skinned girl latched onto my arm.
"Island Lord Taman. What brings you here all of a sudden?"
"What do you mean, all of a sudden? This is where I work."
"You weren't following me?"
"Actually, I was."
Taman beamed. I silently thanked every star that I hadn't brought Uld along. A demon could be dispatched with a talisman, but what exactly was the cure for a flirtatious girl operating under diplomatic credentials?
"By the way, Lord Iden, don't you owe me one?"
"What exactly am I supposed to be grateful for?"
"Did you maybe notice that the merchant fleet got a whole lot bigger?"
"...Ah."
I made a displeased noise.
"What kind of reaction is that? Hilarious! Ahaha!"
Taman doubled over laughing. King Virgir had placed her in charge of the trading post linking the Esterzy domain with Sirakos. I had wondered why merchant ships kept arriving in numbers far exceeding the agreed quota, and it seemed she'd been throwing her weight around at the trading post.
"I was demonstrating how useful I am."
Taman winked.
"You're doing a political marriage with Uld, right? So that means I could—"
"No. Not a chance."
"...Tch."
Taman pouted, then flipped into a somersault and landed on the roof of the adjacent building. She vaulted nimbly from rooftop to rooftop and vanished from sight in an instant.
I was about to thank her, and she didn't even give me the chance.
With the nuisance gone, I headed toward Miren's city hall alongside my guards.
"Form a line! Form a line!"
"There's land for everyone, it's not first come first served!"
The city hall was in chaos from the flood of refugees. Soldiers were struggling to maintain order, but it was easier said than done. These people had crossed the open ocean all the way to the North Sea on nothing but Loki's name and a few bundled belongings. Desperation was written into every step.
Groll was waiting in the city hall conference room. Seated among a sea of pale-faced civil servants, he created a comedic level of dissonance.
"L-Lord Duke, we are honored by your presence!"
"Reports first."
I raised a hand to stop the officials from rising to bow.
"Yes, my lord! Submitting our report!"
The most senior among them sprang to his feet and read from a document.
"The total number of arrivals thus far is 654. Of those, roughly 420 are of working age, and 34 are suffering from prolonged voyage sickness. Priests have been dispatched to attend to them."
"Six hundred and fifty... still a long way to go."
A barony needed a minimum of three thousand residents to function properly. And given that the territory was expanding even as we spoke, three thousand was nothing. Even thirty thousand wouldn't be enough.
"Two more ships are expected within five days... but a problem has arisen."
The official spoke in a grave tone.
"The Empire has noticed us siphoning away their people and has dispatched warships."
To the Empire, the Alkaraz refugees were nothing but rebels to be subjugated. To a lord, they were laborers who would pay taxes. But now those rebels were whispering among themselves and vanishing into thin air, and the Empire had a fire burning under its feet.
"Well, we expected this, didn't we?"
I turned to Groll with a smile. He curled his lips upward and pressed his captain's hat down onto his head.
"Later than expected. Those bastards have never once moved on time."
"...Oh, right."
I called out to Groll as he moved to leave the conference room.
"Don't forget to fly the black flag."