Chapter 260: The Tin Knight and the Imperial Banquet (10)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 260: The Tin Knight and the Imperial Banquet (10)
[‘The Tin Knight’ complains that whenever he gets a quest like ‘Hunt 30 wild boars,’ the boars that are usually everywhere suddenly disappear!]
“Enough of your nonsense. Just focus on the battle.”
The Tin Knight grumbled, and Dorothea chided him.
The two were making exceptionally smooth progress.
No opponent could withstand the Tin Knight’s god-like martial prowess, and any participant who dared to target Dorothea, who walked nonchalantly by his side, was met with the despair of a powerful barrier created by her staff.
Without their other teammates of the same color needing to lift a finger, or Dorothea having to use her necromancy, more than three teams had already been crushed simply by letting the Tin Knight roam free.
It reached a point where they spent more time searching for enemies than they did fighting them.
Of course, that wasn't a bad thing.
Whatever the Tin Knight thought, Dorothea preferred simple and convenient battles over difficult and arduous ones. In fact, it would be even better if she didn't have to fight at all.
However.
Even Dorothea couldn't help but feel perplexed that, despite the test being more than halfway over, there wasn't even a shadow of the Lion Duke's bloodline to be seen.
"...Where did they all go?"
No matter how powerful the Tin Knight was, it was impossible to defeat an enemy he had never even met.
To say they simply hadn't crossed paths because the field was large was becoming less plausible; the pillars of light surrounding the arena were gradually closing in, a mechanism to prevent the test from dragging on for too long.
In other words, the structure was designed to make encounters with other teams more likely as time passed, yet they hadn't seen a single trace of a Lennart.
There were two possibilities.
Either they were just unlucky and hadn't found them yet, or they had already been eliminated by another team.
The latter wasn't entirely impossible, especially since there were other powerful teams like Adelaide's or Algind's who were also targeting the Lion Duke's bloodline.
How much time had passed since then?
When they finally located members of the Lion Duke's bloodline, the fierce battle the Tin Knight had anticipated once again failed to materialize.
“Push forward! There aren't many of them left!”
“Tch, these bastards, one after another…!”
Surrounded by other participants, the young men of the Lennart Ducal House were being cornered.
The young men were clearly superior in terms of individual skill, but while the Lennart side numbered five at most, their enemies were just shy of a hundred. It seemed two teams of different colors had formed an alliance, and with such a disparity in numbers, even the Lion Duke's bloodline was helpless.
This was especially true since the participants who had made it to the third test were all talented individuals who ranked among the top echelons of the Empire.
In the end, without the Tin Knight or Dorothea needing to intervene, the members of the Lion Duke's bloodline lost their brands and were eliminated. The victorious alliance, riding their momentum, then tried to eliminate Dorothea's black team, only to have the tables turned on them completely. It was the price they paid for messing with a walking, tin-can-shaped disaster.
And similar incidents occurred several more times.
“There! The Lennarts are over there!”
The members of the Lion Duke's bloodline, who should have been the powerful contenders sweeping through the test site, were instead being hunted like prey—an abnormal situation.
The reason was clear.
The Lennarts were not in complete teams; they were scattered and torn apart, huddled in small groups.
Since even the largest group didn't exceed ten members, it was no surprise that other participants were hunting them with fire in their eyes.
If their performance in the test was to be evaluated based on merit, there was no clearer "merit" than defeating members of the Lennart family.
“Sir Knight, Lady Witch!”
[‘The Tin Knight’ reports that someone with features similar to the target is approaching at high speed!]
[‘The Tin Knight’ expresses his will to face off against that mysterious Lennart Mask!]
“Don’t you dare, you idiot.”
After smacking the back of the Tin Knight’s head with her staff, Dorothea’s party, finally reunited, began to exchange information.
“All the Lennart guys are either scattered all over the place or have already been knocked out. Adelaide, was this your doing?”
“No, I thought you and the Knight did it.”
[‘The Tin Knight’ complains that he hasn't even had a proper fight!]
“Was it that Algind girl? Or were there other skilled fighters? …Sophia, what’s wrong?”
Dorothea questioned Sophia, who was lost in thought.
Sophia seemed to choose her words for a moment before spitting them out.
“Those who have a way out, and those who don’t. When cornered, which side is more desperate?”
“What?”
“When a perfectly fine ship is about to sink, where do the passengers’ grudges turn? To the captain, I suppose?”
“What are you talking about all of a sudden?”
At Dorothea’s urging, Sophia replied.
“It means that, as always, our plans have gone awry.”
*
Sven von Lennart.
The twenty-five-year-old nobleman held immense pride in his lineage.
They were the inheritors of the blood of the Lion Duke, a hero counted among the strongest warriors in history.
They were the sword of the Empire, who had fought more bravely than anyone against foreign enemies, and the most distinguished of noble houses, having contributed the most to the Empire's growth into the great power it was today.
They were true nobles who, despite being born with superior physical constitutions, did not rely on it, but constantly repeated a cycle of competition and self-discipline.
What a great family.
What a glorious bloodline.
The young man, who had fallen asleep listening to the tales of the Lion Duke's valor since childhood and had trained relentlessly with the vow to become such a hero himself, found it all the more difficult to forgive the current state of affairs.
The Imperial Family, checking the Lennarts simply because they were powerful, even though they had never attempted a rebellion.
The vile false accusation that they had tried to maintain power by sacrificing a collateral branch, and the rabble who were swayed by it.
It was utterly absurd.
Without the Lion Duke, the Empire would not even be an empire, and without the Lennarts, the Empire would have long since fallen at the hands of foreign enemies.
This dreadful situation, where those who had attained their noble positions because of them, and those they had protected until now, were now denying the Lennarts.
Sven was furious.
Sven lamented.
Sven resolved.
He would prove their worth through skill. With this sword, he would protect his family's honor and brighten its future.
The other young men of the family, who were usually his rivals, now burned with fighting spirit, vowing to join him as comrades this one time.
Thwack!
And at this very moment.
Sven and his comrades were being brutally crushed, their past vows rendered meaningless.
Blood scattered. Teeth rolled on the ground. Comrades fell without even being able to scream properly.
The ambush was too sudden, and the attacker's strength was on a level they had never experienced before.
The sight of the renowned elites of the Lennart bloodline being hunted down one by one without putting up any decent resistance.
Am I dreaming?
The thought crossed his mind involuntarily; the events unfolding before his eyes felt utterly unreal.
But the training he had accumulated did not lie.
Unlike his mind, which had half-retreated into escapism, his body, which had undergone faithful training, thrust his sword forward without hesitation.
Clang!
Sven's sword clashed with the attacker's, and their bodies drew so close that their shadows overlapped.
Only then could Sven get a proper look at his opponent.
A robe covering them from head to toe. A mask concealing their face.
But it wasn't hard to guess their identity from their characteristically small frame, the brilliant golden hair that fluttered about, and the heavy sword strikes delivered with a two-handed sword.
Adelaide von Lennart.
The vile traitor who had dragged the main family's honor through the mud and joined hands with the Empress!
“Ooooooh!”
Fueled by a burning rage, Sven swung his sword like a madman.
The will not to lose, to never be defeated, pushed him on.
But the difference in skill was overwhelming.
The traitor, who parried Sven's all-out strike with far too much ease, kicked his ankle out from under him.
His body, over 180cm tall, flipped upside down like a light twig, spinning in the air.
It was a monstrous strength, unbelievable to have come from such a small frame.
And before his body could even hit the ground.
Thwack!
The traitor's sword swung, mercilessly slamming into his side.
Along with a dizzying pain, the air was forcibly knocked out of his lungs.
Whether she had struck with the flat of the blade or had done something to the edge, there was no blood flowing, save for some minor bleeding where his skin had been scraped.
Considering this was a real battle where they were fighting with real swords, it was an astonishingly light wound.
But Sven could not feel relieved by this fact.
Instead, he felt humiliation and rage.
After defiling and trampling on their honor, their pride, their self-respect.
How could it be called mercy to graciously leave only their lives intact?
After roughly tearing off the brand on his shoulder, the attacker vanished once more.
Left behind, Sven looked around for his other comrades, but it seemed he was the only one still conscious.
In truth, it wouldn't have mattered if other comrades were conscious.
They had already been eliminated.
That's right. Eliminated.
The moment he realized that fact, another emotion began to creep into Sven's heart, which had been consumed by rage and humiliation.
If we were defeated so one-sidedly, will the others from the main family be okay?
Of course, among the participants was Hilda, who was hailed as someone who would soon grasp the title of the strongest.
Even besides her, there were many kinsmen more skilled than Sven.
But what if even they were defeated?
What if no one passed the test?
What if the Empress's plan to cull them truly succeeded?
Sven trembled.
The third emotion, following rage and humiliation.
The name of the wedge that would turn the prideful and dignified lions into starving, ferocious beasts was fear.
*
Dozens of shadows gathered around the girl in the mask and robe.
The girl asked.
“Was it a success?”
The shadows nodded.
For those who had intentionally lost battles against other teams, ambushed their own allies under the guise of coincidence, and claimed to go out for reconnaissance only to lead the enemy to their allies' location, their demeanor was remarkably confident.
In a way, it was only natural.
Guilt wasn't something one felt for committing a shameful act.
It was something only those who knew their actions were shameful could feel.
There was no way those who genuinely believed this act was ultimately for the good of the family would feel any shame.
The Council of Elders had intentionally gathered only such people and entrusted them with the 'job'.
The masked girl.
Hilda von Lennart tore the brand from her shoulder.
The other shadows did the same, removing their brands.
It was done in a blind spot, away from the spirits and surveillance magic tools, but it didn't matter even if evidence somehow fell into their hands.
The evidence Dorothea's party had secured in the Magic State was meaningful only because the person who could vouch for its authenticity was the Witch of the North, Orin, who was neutral and whose skills were acknowledged by all.
But this was impossible for the Witch of the South, Glinda.
Not because her skills were inferior to the Witch of the North's, but because she was not a neutral figure.
No matter how plausible the evidence Glinda brought forth, to the Lennarts, it would be nothing more than a ridiculous slander.
Hilda's gaze turned toward the forest beyond.
And she thought of someone her age who would be there.
“—Don’t be too disappointed. If we’re going to do this, the real thing will be much more fun than this stuffy place.”
*
One hour and three minutes after the match began.
The test concluded, twice as fast as originally scheduled.
Among the 200 participants who passed the test, the only one with the name Lennart was Adelaide von Lennart.
Faced with this truly shocking result, people were aghast.
When the story spread that the members of the main family had not even fought to the end, but had been hunted down by other participants without putting up a proper fight, the astonishment turned to ridicule.
“They go on and on about the Lion Duke, but they’re nothing special, are they? Looks like it was all just hype, with no real substance.”
“I tore the brand off one of them myself, you know. Seeing him scramble to survive, he looked more like a rat than a lion. Hahahaha!”
“Once the new Imperial Guard is established, the Lennart family will probably have their military authority slowly stripped away. I should start lining up my connections early.”
“How dare these bastards run their mouths like that!”
The jealousy and discontent that had been suppressed under the brilliant radiance of the Lennart name bore fruit under the new public opinion that ‘the Lennarts are has-beens.’
If it was human nature to admire and praise a shining existence, it was also human nature to look down on and despise that shining existence when it fell.
Of course, a considerable gap existed between public opinion and reality.
The Lennart family still possessed a great deal of power and influence, and even with the creation of the Emperor's direct army, it was impossible for them to push the Lennarts aside so easily, at least not for the time being, though it might be possible in the distant future.
According to the original plan, the ones to be culled were supposed to be a select few within the family—the most hopeless extremists among the radicals and the members of the Council of Elders who incited them.
However.
With the entire Lennart family becoming a laughingstock, things took a strange turn.
The radicals were enraged.
The neutrals were also enraged.
Even the moderates could not hide their agitation.
The lions, their pride wounded and cornered, began to demand ‘countermeasures’ from their leader.
“I will inform you once more, Family Head. The Council of Elders requests that we issue a ‘stronger protest’ to the Imperial Family, who have ignored the loyalty our family has dedicated and are now attempting to cast us aside after we've served our purpose. And this is the list of signatures from those who agree with the Council's will.”
Rustle.
After frowning at the enormous pile of signature papers pouring onto his desk, the Lennart Duke asked back.
“A stronger protest… what specifically do you mean to do?”
“The abolition of the Imperial Guard's establishment. The punishment of those who spread malicious rumors about the ones responsible for the Empire's national defense.”
“That’s an absurd demand. There’s no way the Imperial Family will listen.”
“We must make them listen.”
The head of the Council of Elders spoke calmly, but with a dull flame burning in his eyes.
“—If they don't want to see the ducal house and all its forces secede to form their own duchy.”