Divine Power MAX
"Gregory. How is the tournament progressing?"
"Extremely smoothly, Your Majesty. Participants have gathered from across the nation, and the examination sites are practically festival grounds."
"Excellent news."
Emperor Eberhardt smiled with satisfaction.
The tournament had two objectives. The first was to find a capable prophet. The second was to drive out the incompetent imperial prophets.
The more people who gather, the higher the odds of finding someone truly gifted.
The tournament was proceeding smoothly, so now it was time to achieve the other goal. He needed to root out the talentless frauds clinging to the imperial court.
"Have all the imperial prophets entered the tournament?"
"Most have, Your Majesty. However, a few claimed personal circumstances — illness and the like — and declined to participate."
"Haha… So there were those who refused."
I made my preference for participation clear, and still some prophets stayed away.
Tap, tap. Eberhardt drummed his fingers irritably against the desk.
This was the emperor's opinion. Calling it an "opinion" was a formality — it was effectively a command. And yet some brazen prophets had dared refuse the emperor's will and skip the tournament.
"Investigate whether those who failed to appear used false pretenses to avoid the tournament."
"Yes, Your Majesty. I shall investigate every last one of them thoroughly."
Aide Gregory read the emperor's true intent. Before long, the leech-like nobles parasitizing the imperial court would lose their positions.
"Your Majesty. What shall we do about the prophets who were eliminated in the first preliminary round?"
"The moment the tournament ends, they will be expelled. I would throw them out this very instant if I could, but for the sake of a smooth tournament, I shall endure for now."
"A wise decision. Then I shall prepare a list of the eliminated imperial prophets in advance."
It would not do for people to discover that the tournament's purpose was to purge the nobility.
I'll simply invent other pretexts to drive them out.
Eberhardt laid plans to find fault with the incompetent imperial prophets and cast them out.
"Gregory. Were there any participants who stood out?"
"With only the first preliminary completed, it is difficult to single out anyone exceptional. That said, many renowned figures have entered."
Gregory brought over documents summarizing the key participants and presented them to Eberhardt.
"First, the head of the imperial prophets and the guildmaster of the Prophets' Guild have both entered."
"Oh? The Prophets' Guildmaster himself entered the tournament."
The empire had many guilds. The Blacksmiths' Guild, the Merchants' Guild — professionals of every trade gathered to build their own spheres of influence. The Prophets' Guild was one of the great guilds with influence across the entire realm.
"Any other participants of note?"
"Saintess Angelica Evangeline has entered the tournament."
"The Saintess entered?"
"Yes. She successfully passed the first preliminary."
The one and only Saintess of the Cariel Church. Angelica was said to be able to commune with the gods, and even the emperor himself could not treat her carelessly.
Why would the Saintess enter the tournament?
The Saintess was a figure far removed from worldly affairs. What on earth had she written as her desired prize for winning? Eberhardt felt a strong curiosity and read through the Saintess's registration materials.
A large quantity of gold coins.
That was what was written on the list of desired prizes.
"Gregory. These materials contain no falsehoods, correct?"
"We investigated thoroughly. Everything is true."
"According to this, the Saintess wants money. And you still claim there is no falsehood?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. Saintess Angelica Evangeline stated that she needs a great deal of money to aid the poor."
"Ah… So that's what it was."
He had been momentarily flustered at the idea of the Saintess wanting money.
Wanting to save the poor with the championship prize. How very like a Saintess. It would certainly be fine if someone like her won, but…
Eberhardt felt that he would like the Saintess to win. At the same time, his rational judgment told him she must not.
I intended to bring the winner into the imperial court as a prophet. If the Saintess becomes the final victor, that plan falls apart.
The Saintess belonged to the Cariel Church. No condition he could offer would pull her into the imperial fold.
…Perhaps it's premature to worry about that just yet. The Saintess could still be eliminated.
Eberhardt set his concerns about the Saintess aside for now.
"Gregory, are there any other promising contenders?"
"W-well. There is one, though his status is nothing remarkable."
"Did we not agree that status would not matter in this tournament? Even a street beggar would do — speak."
"The eastern examiner reported that a man named Rix seems rather extraordinary."
"Rix?"
Eberhardt rapidly combed through his memory.
The name is familiar… but I can't quite place it.
It hovered on the tip of his tongue, but he could not recall. In the end, he asked Gregory.
"Does this Rix have a family name?"
"He does not."
"A commoner, then? A participant well suited to the spirit of this tournament."
Eberhardt said it naturally enough. Then he immediately realized something.
Why do I know a commoner's name?
Rix was definitely a name he had heard before. For a commoner's name to stick in his memory — that was exceedingly strange.
"Your Majesty, if I may be so bold — Rix is not of common birth."
"Hmm?"
Eberhardt's eyes narrowed slightly. People without family names who were not commoners came in only two varieties.
"An exile, or a bastard. Which is it?"
"Both."
"…Hah."
Eberhardt let out a laugh of pure disbelief. A bastard being cast out of his family was hardly unusual, but he had never expected to hear such a person's name himself.
"Do you know which family he comes from?"
"Yes. Rix is said to be a bastard of the Valentier family."
"Ah, that jogs my memory."
The Valentier family was a renowned house controlling the majority of the empire's financial industry. Their bastard son was famous for enjoying his father's favor.
"Isn't he the one who caused a scene at the Robbins family's banquet?"
He was even more infamous for ruining Silvia Robbins's engagement announcement.
"No wonder the name rang a bell. A notorious scoundrel, then. And that fellow caught the eastern examiner's eye?"
"He is said to have prophesied the eastern examiner's death."
"…What?"
"The details are as follows."
Rix had made a prophecy, and because the eastern examiner believed it, he avoided an accident and escaped death. Gregory explained the incident.
"…The eastern examiner wasn't bribed, was he?"
"Most likely not."
"If that account is true, then the gap between him and the existing prophets is enormous."
Prophets, for all their claims, spent most of their days spouting vague nonsense. If they got it right, they took the credit. If they got it wrong, they made excuses about fate having changed. That was the breed known as prophets.
"To think someone who prophesies with such specificity would appear."
Rix. Eberhardt silently mouthed the name.
The Imperial Capital.
With the main rounds of the Prophets' Tournament approaching, I had come up to the capital.
The preliminaries were all easy.
After clearing the first round, there had been a second, a third… more preliminaries kept coming. The preliminary events never rose above simple tests of luck, so I passed them without difficulty and advanced to the main rounds.
"Young Master Rix! Over here, over here!"
Right in the middle of the path leading to the main examination hall, Wangcho the Beggar King waved at me. Whether it was sharp instincts or pure luck, Wangcho had somehow cleared every preliminary and advanced to the main rounds alongside me.
"Main-round contestants, please come this way!"
Following the guide's instructions, I headed toward the main examination hall. During the preliminaries, only the guards had been properly armed while the guides wore shabby clothes. Here in the capital, even the guides were outfitted in full gear.
"Man, I never thought I'd make it to the main rounds! It's all thanks to you, Young Master!"
"…Haha. Thank you for the compliment."
I laughed off Wangcho's sudden praise and looked around at the other main-round participants. Almost all of them were nobles. They glanced my way in turn, sizing me up. Everyone was probing everyone else. The psychological warfare had begun before the matches even started.
As that peculiar atmosphere hung in the air—
"Th-the Saintess! Angelica Evangeline has arrived!"
"Gasp. So the rumors about the Saintess entering the tournament weren't empty after all!"
Townspeople outside the examination hall were shouting.
The Saintess. I think she was supposed to be able to hear the voice of the gods.
A woman walked into the examination hall. She had brightly shining silver hair and emerald-green eyes.
"Greetings, everyone."
The Saintess surveyed the other participants with an exceedingly benevolent expression. Wearing a gentle smile, she leisurely studied her rivals — until—
"S-Saintess? Is something the matter?"
One participant noticed the change in her and grew flustered. The Saintess's benevolent smile had vanished. Her emerald eyes gleamed coldly.
"You. What are you?"
"…Excuse me?"
She was asking me. The atmosphere turned frigid. No one dared move.
"What is that enormous divine power?! How did I not know about you? Which branch are you from? Don't tell me you're not affiliated with any branch? In that case, I'm taking you to the central branch right now!"
The Saintess rattled off the words like a machine gun without so much as a change in expression. Apparently, the Saintess had gotten the wrong idea entirely.