Chapter 4: First Companion (3)
First Companion (3)
Swish, rustle—
I slid low along the steep incline of the stone roof on the third floor of Eisen Castle's main building.
The blade-like northern wind bit sharply through my leather collar. With my cheek pressed against the cold tile surface, I quietly suppressed the magic power in my dantian. Though I'd poured a recovery potion into my mouth, the aftermath of using an ancient artifact with my pitiful 3rd Class dantian to breach the fortress's defenses still made every fiber of my body ache.
"Haa..."
I swallowed the metallic taste lingering in my mouth.
Channeling a thin stream of magic power from my dantian through my meridians, I eased the pain in my shoulder tendons. Though this was a circulation method perfected over decades of battlefield experience, my current body's absolute lack of magic reserves meant even operating this minor illusion artifact made my flesh scream in protest.
'This rookie body right after regression really is hard to adjust to.'
I quietly drew the cheap sword at my waist to inspect the blade.
The edge had chipped slightly when cutting down the guards earlier. Taking out a whetstone fragment from my pocket, I infused it with trace magic and began quietly honing the blade.
Scritch, scritch. The soft metallic rasping dissipated into the night wind. In real combat, even a millimeter's difference could cost lives. The less perfect my physical condition, the more flawlessly my equipment needed to be maintained.
Yet as I felt the weighty bundle of ledgers and secret treaties pressing against the inner lining of my leather coat, the corner of my mouth curled into a dry smile.
It would have been easier to smash through the window of Eleanor's quarters in the annex below right now, grab her by the scruff, and leave this fortress. Combining the illusions from the 'Seal of Projection' with my assassination techniques from my past life, slipping past a few dull-witted guards would've been child's play.
But that wouldn't solve anything.
Eleanor Bernice was a woman who lived and breathed the code and honor of being a 'knight' down to her bones.
If I dragged her away without showing her the ugly evidence of how her country had sold her out, she'd spend the rest of her life tormented by guilt—'Because of me, the remaining Reinhark Knights might have been branded traitors and slaughtered.'
A broken sword has no value on the battlefield. She needed to shatter that hollow shell of patriotism herself to be reborn as a perfect blade at my side.
"She needs to see it with her own eyes. How filthy the royal family and country she served truly were."
Quietly suppressing my dantian's magic, I flattened myself against a roof beam overlooking the imperial envoy's office.
Same time. Imperial envoy headquarters, Duke Eisen's private office.
Bang—!
"W-what in the...!"
Duke Eisen, who had returned in high spirits after drinking heavily at the banquet, now stood pale-faced.
The fine oak desk drawers had been ruthlessly ransacked. The hidden compartment behind the decorative cabinet stood empty. Only a single sheet of paper with ink still glistening wet bore crimson letters like blood:
[I've taken the secret treaties. Don't strain your old brain—just wait.]
"The secret treaties... The treaties personally signed by the Empire and Crown Prince Brünnhilde are gone?!"
The Duke's bulging eyes shook uncontrollably. Disgustingly clammy cold sweat poured down his sagging cheeks like rain, soaking his silk collar.
Those documents weren't merely contracts handing Eleanor Bernice over as some old Duke's concubine. They contained the ugly corruption of [secretly poisoning 12 key Reinhark Knight officers and confiscating their lands three months after taking custody of Eleanor].
If those papers fell into the hands of the White Tiger Knights...
'Forget signing ceremonies—those insane northern gascon knights would draw their swords and take my head first!'
At that thought, the Duke's legs began trembling violently. The military might of the Reinhark Knights—called the Dragons of the North—was so fearsome even imperial knights avoided direct confrontation.
"Your Grace! What's the commotion?!"
The door burst open as the armored imperial knight captain and his retinue rushed in.
The Duke crumpled the paper in his shaking hand, his voice shrill: "Issue a search order for the entire—no, cancel that! Call off the search!"
He hastily reversed his command. A careless search might alert the sharp-eyed knights. With no way to know whether the thief was an inside traitor or external spy, reckless action would be suicide.
"Don't let anyone notice! If even a single word reaches those White Tiger Knights' ears, I'll have your heads!"
"Y-yes?"
"Move the signing ceremony scheduled for morning to before dawn! We'll take custody of Eleanor Bernice before first light and depart for the Empire immediately! Understood?!"
"By your command!"
The moment the order was given, the clanking of imperial plate armor filled the corridors. Thud, thud, thud. The busy footsteps of armored knights preparing torches and defensive formations. The tense noise rose clearly to the rooftops.
Watching this unfold from the beams above, I let out a quiet chuckle.
'Walking right into the trap.'
Having lost the secret treaties, the Duke now feared provoking the Reinhark Knights above all. The more desperate he grew, the more hastily he'd act—and haste always exposed fatal flaws.
Approaching dawn. Lower fortress, Reinhark Knights' barracks.
A single candle flickered precariously in the stone-walled chamber.
Slick, slick.
Eleanor Bernice, her silver hair neatly tied back, silently adjusted the finger joints of her leather gloves. Her waist was conspicuously bare—the Dragon Slayer Gram, symbol of a knight commander, had already been confiscated by the imperial envoys under the Crown Prince's orders.
Knock knock.
"Commander. Entering."
The door opened as Vice-Commander Raven entered. The bloodshot eyes and bone-white clenched fists betrayed his state of mind.
"Commander. Must... must it truly come to this?"
"Raven."
"It's the Crown Prince and those sycophants' scheme! Driving us to our deaths while selling you to that lecherous old Duke!"
"Lower your voice, Vice-Commander."
Eleanor's tone was dry. But the faint tremble in her gloved fingertips betrayed her.
"If I refuse and draw my sword, what comes next?"
"......"
"The Crown Prince will immediately brand the entire White Tiger Knights as traitors. The families you left behind in your territories—all hunted down. We'd fall from national heroes to the continent's most reviled bandits."
"But your sacrifice alone is meaningless! Better we all die fighting—!"
"Just one needs to endure."
Eleanor flatly cut him off.
"If I go to the Empire, the Crown Prince loses all pretext to touch the Order. This is my final command as your Knight Commander. Not a single one of you draws steel."
Raven bit his lip until blood flowed but spoke no more. After the Vice-Commander left, bowing so deeply his head nearly struck the floor, silence reclaimed the room.
Alone, Eleanor studied her reflection—silver hair and red eyes. After rolling through the Ten Years War for her country, her reward wasn't medals but becoming a political sacrifice.
She exhaled sharply and covered the mirror.
Choosing to sacrifice herself to save her comrades. Unaware it was the perfect trap laid by the royal family.
Outside on the roof.
Maintaining the Seal's illusion, I lay buried in the cold tiles.
'How frustratingly noble.'
Memories from my past life flashed by. After being taken to the Empire, she endured as best she could. But three months later, when news came that the Crown Prince had broken his promise and poisoned the remaining knight officers, she completely snapped.
When she realized her sacrifice had been a farce. When she slit the Imperial Duke's throat and escaped, then took a branding iron to ruin her beautiful face.
The tragedy of being shackled to the hollow illusion of patriotism.
On the distant horizon, bluish-purple dawn light began brushing the fortress clouds. The time approached.
"Dawn, is it."
I looked up at the night sky. The deepest darkness before daybreak enveloped the fortress.
No need to wait for morning. The signing ceremony the Duke had foolishly moved to predawn.
The moment the Crown Prince's envoy and imperial dogs triumphantly produced their contracts, the perfect stage for their downfall—which I'd prepared—would open.