Chapter 221: The Tin Knight and The Tower of Greed
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 221: The Tin Knight and The Tower of Greed
The eastern part of the continent was, in name, land ruled by the Ionia Kingdom, but the reality was quite different.
The royal family was certainly the largest power in the east, but their base was situated too far on the eastern edge. As a result, even a short distance to the west lay vast territories beyond the royal family's reach.
The cities in such places had become semi-warlord factions, their lords wielding power equivalent to that of a king within their own domains.
The situation in the Friedel domain was much the same.
They pledged loyalty to the royal family and paid their taxes diligently, but this was entirely a matter of the lord's personal disposition.
The administration of the domain itself was completely independent of the royal family. Friedel was not protected as a member of the kingdom; it defended its territory solely through its own military strength and the reputation of being a collateral line of the Lion Duke’s bloodline.
However, perhaps the royal family had a conscience after all. Or maybe it was a calculated move, knowing that if they took everything they could and then turned a blind eye in a time of need, the other nobles wouldn't stand for it.
After Friedel's main forces were annihilated and the domain became a prime target for bandits, the royal family began sending aid in its own way.
This continued even after Giselle took over as acting lord. But instead of using the kingdom's support, Giselle had it neatly stacked in a warehouse, treating it as the private property of the lord's family.
Not only was the support from the main Lennart family more than sufficient, but she also didn't want to see the royal family use this aid as a pretext to exert their influence.
If she had her way, she would have sent it all back, declaring it unnecessary, but she couldn't very well refuse support sent with the king's own seal, no matter how she felt.
There was also the calculation that designating these assets as the lord's family's share would help stabilize public sentiment.
But now, Giselle found herself in a rather difficult situation.
“You wish to… take the lady of the domain with you?”
“That is correct.”
The man, whose impressive mustache curled slightly at the ends, nodded with a rather dignified air.
Giselle knew who he was.
Marquis William Hemming.
He was the head of one of the most distinguished and historic noble families in the kingdom. Once a giant of the noble faction, he was now a key figure of power in the Ionia Kingdom, even called the king's right-hand man.
With the Lennart Ducal House backing her, Giselle possessed enough power to look down on most lords in Ionia. But when facing one of the top five most powerful men in the kingdom, her influence inevitably fell short.
This was especially true given that her official position was that of a vassal to the Ionian royal family.
Thus, she was flustered.
“This is all too sudden, my lord. The lady is currently unconscious, her mind and body weakened from the shock of successive tragedies. She requires absolute rest, so it is impossible for her to be moved about carelessly.”
“Indeed. That is precisely why I have come myself.”
Marquis William Hemming continued with an exaggerated gesture, as if giving a speech.
“His Majesty was deeply grieved by the deaths of the proud sword of the kingdom, Lord August, and his men, and he has spared no support in comforting the bereaved family. But upon hearing that the lady has yet to regain consciousness, His Majesty even shed tears of sorrow, so great was his grief.”
Giselle’s expression remained perfectly business-like, determined not to show a hint of agitation, but inwardly, she was in turmoil.
The rational part of her mind denied William’s words, thinking, ‘Surely he wouldn’t go that far,’ but knowing the king’s reputation for eccentric behavior, it wasn’t entirely impossible that he had.
“His Majesty originally intended to send his personal physician and private priest to heal the lady, but dispatching those responsible for his well-being, even temporarily, poses numerous problems. Therefore, I have come to escort the lady to the royal capital instead. Of course, we are perfectly prepared for any unforeseen incidents that may occur during the journey.”
“…Is that so.”
Giselle realized she was in checkmate.
When the king of a nation sends his own right-hand man to see to the healing of his vassal’s wife, refusing to let her go would be problematic in many ways. In the worst-case scenario, dishonorable rumors could spread, such as, ‘The acting lord seems to resent the idea of the lady’s recovery.’
‘…Still, for a man considered the head of the court nobility to come all this way himself, even if it is an order. His loyalty to the king must be truly profound.’
As Giselle was reassessing the loyal subject (?) before her…
Marquis William Hemming was thinking to himself.
‘Damn it, that blasted witch!!’
He was the link between the Ionia Kingdom and Dorothea’s party.
He had never wanted to be, but somehow, it had turned out that way.
Receiving the witch’s letter from an incredibly ominous crow (a biased statement, perhaps, but there was no other way to describe a crow that moved with the cold, lifeless body of the dead), he had to scream at its contents.
「Secure the lady of the Friedel domain. Under the pretext of an escort and retinue, take a knight named Ronnie Roxly and anyone she recommends with you. Time is of the essence, so you must act as soon as you receive this letter. You must not, under any circumstances, hand the lady over to the Lennart side until you hear from us.」
It was a demand that was as sudden as it was unreasonable.
Go to another's domain, one currently occupied by the Lennart family, and extract the lord's wife?
Did this damn witch mistake him for some kind of phantom thief instead of a nobleman?
If he could, he would have ignored the letter and everything else, but like any good fairytale villain, the witch was cunning.
「If you accomplish this task successfully, in return, I will settle our past ill-fated connection and nullify the Blood Oath.」
The reason William had to continue playing the part of the king’s confidant, a role he didn’t even want.
The reason he had to endure being called a traitor by his former comrades and continue to defend the witch.
That horribly unequal contract, which would immediately turn his body into a frog if he ever hindered or acted against the witch!
Faced with the temptation of being freed from the tightest, most cursed noose around his neck, William had no choice but to submit meekly.
In the process of spinning various sweet nothings to get an official order from the king, he seemed to have created a strange misunderstanding—‘Is this a gesture for a fallen friend! How could I, the king, ignore such a passionate and beautiful display of manly friendship! Do as you wish!’—but it was a minor issue if it meant getting the curse lifted.
After all, his relationship with the former lord of Friedel had been, at best, a few exchanged greetings when they met.
‘I don’t know why she made such a sudden request, but once this is over, I’ll finally be free! Hahaha!’
Marquis William Hemming smiled.
He laughed heartily in his mind.
Until the rumors of the Singing Bone Flute traveled from the Magic State, through the Empire, and reached the kingdom, he could laugh all he wanted.
After they arrived, well…
He probably wouldn't be laughing, would he?
*
When people use the word ‘witch,’ the connotations are more often negative than positive.
This might be because witches frequently appear as villains in old fairy tales and legends, or conversely, witches may have been depicted that way because there were many evil ones throughout history.
One scholar, claiming that the two professions became muddled when necromancers began dabbling in and absorbing various aspects of witchcraft, angrily declared that "the witch's craft was tainted by necromancers," but whether that is true is now impossible to know.
In that sense, the Witch of the North, Orin, was a most unwitch-like being.
Her character was virtuous, and unlike other arrogant mages, she held the rather open-minded belief that ‘magic should be used for the people.’
Nor was her head simply in the clouds. She didn't just preach idealism; she was an outstanding leader who created a virtuous cycle where opening magic to the public also benefited the mages.
It wasn't for nothing that the mages of the tower revered her as one of the founding parents of the Magic State.
But the exploits of the Witch of the North, Orin, dwindled as time went on.
The number of her disciples, who once emerged by the dozens each year, gradually decreased, and her appearances at official tower events became increasingly rare.
Some said she had grown weak with age; others claimed she had fallen into a state of lethargy after her old acquaintances passed away.
And the disciple produced by the Witch of the North after decades of seclusion declared it.
All of those answers were wrong.
“A long, long time ago, long before I became my master’s pupil, she fought another witch.
The witch’s name was Mombi. She was an evil witch who had lived for far longer than my master.
A master of transformation magic, she lived by stealing the appearances and identities of others, and the next target she set her sights on was my master.”
A great mage who was showered with respect and love from many.
A mother of the Empire who played a major role in the birth of the powerful Magic State.
For an evil witch who lived by hijacking the lives of others, there was no more tempting prey.
The two witches fought fiercely. The battle itself was Orin's victory, but the price was steep.
The evil witch Mombi, even in death, succeeded in inserting a part of her will and soul into Orin.
Influenced by Mombi, Orin’s personality and character began to warp. As a countermeasure, Orin split her own mind in two, drove Mombi into one half, and sealed it away.
This seemed successful at first, but it had a major side effect.
It wasn't a big deal when the seal was stable, but when it became unstable, the Mombi on the other side began to absorb Orin’s ‘bad aspects.’
“Wait.”
Dorothea, who had been listening to the story, interjected.
“It absorbed her bad aspects, and that’s a side effect?”
“Hmm. How should I put this?”
Gale seemed to ponder for a moment before speaking to Dorothea directly.
“Dorothea, let’s say I have a serious illness and need money. Could you lend me your entire fortune for a moment?”
“Are you crazy?”
“That’s exactly it.”
Gale placed a card on her fingertip and spun it.
“Suspicion, caution, denial… each of these may be a ‘bad element’ on its own, but that doesn't mean they should be eliminated. Just as a card needs a front and a back to be whole, negative things have their own uses.”
In other words, a person stripped of all their negative aspects was, in their own way, deeply flawed.
So much so that a witch who understood both the clean and the sullied, who pursued good while maintaining a balance of both, would be reduced to a half-wit capable only of good.
Dorothea, seeming to understand the meaning, muttered with a serious face.
“So, that thing over there is the result?”
“She’s not usually this bad, but it seems this incident has shocked her quite a bit. The seal wavers more when my master is psychologically unstable. I suppose it was quite a shock to see a once-cherished disciple become a villain who would casually gamble with the lives of others.”
“What’s the solution?”
“Time.”
The answer was simple and clear.
“Once she regains her composure and the seal begins to stabilize, her mental state will return to normal. That’s why she’s been living in semi-seclusion in the first place.”
“…Well, as long as it doesn’t seriously affect our plans, I guess that’s fine.”
In truth, now that they had received public confirmation that the ‘evidence’ they brought was real and had delivered the skull—a gift from her master—the party had no further need to involve themselves with the Witch of the North.
They didn't, but for some reason…
Dorothea, and the rest of the party, couldn't shake a strange sense of unease.
To put it in the Tin Knight's terms, yes.
It was a bad omen. Or, a ‘flag.’
“…Let’s go see your master again for a moment. Something feels off.”