Cromwell Staviana (2)
Cromwell Staviana (2)
“I’ll accept all of your demands. In return, I ask just one favor.”
The Count’s gaze was calm and steady. His appearance was immaculate. There was a sense of composure in his overall demeanor.
Even though his wife had been taken from him, and he should’ve been driven mad with anxiety, not a trace of it showed.
His love for his wife felt almost fake.
‘Typical Cromwell.’
He was a veteran of the political arena, who had clawed his way to victory over decades. He was a master of the poker face and emotional control.
No matter how urgent things were, he would never show impatience.
That stance had become second nature to him.
Johan sat across from the Count and spoke.
“Seems you’ve already forgotten the warning. Cromwell, you don’t get to ask anything of me.”
The Count lifted his teacup to his lips, expression still composed.
“That’s precisely why I used the word favor.”
“So in other words, you’re saying I can reject it.”
“If you do, then I’ve no choice. As I said, this is merely a request.”
After a moment’s thought, Johan replied.
“I’ll hear it first.”
The Count answered without hesitation.
“Give me back my wife.”
Johan scoffed.
“Impossible.”
Eriyan’s remains were the leash that kept the Count in check.
There was no way he could simply hand them over.
The Count said,
“If you need insurance, take the Heavenly Womb.”
The resurrection of Eriyan was only possible through the Heavenly Womb.
“That’s a tempting offer, but I’ll decline. Who knows? You might find another way to bring her back without it.”
The moment such a method was found, the leash holding the Count would vanish.
Johan had no need to take that risk.
“I’ve searched for a way to revive the dead for decades. Sacred texts, forbidden scriptures, I’ve scoured them all. And I can say with certainty—there is no way to bring Eriyan back besides the Heavenly Womb.”
Johan shook his head.
“What you know is not the entirety of this world. Again, I cannot return Eriyan.”
The Count spoke in a low voice.
“……In that case, I’ll devote myself to the Thirteenth Apostle of the End. If I become a servant of the Apostle, I’ll have no reason to betray you.”
Johan clicked his tongue.
“You’re someone who needs to move between the Sacred Nation and the Empire. And now you’re saying you’ll brand yourself with a demon’s mark? That’s absurd.”
The Sacred Nation and the Empire had far more intense systems of demon detection than the Kingdom.
The moment a demon-worshipper stepped foot in the imperial capital, they’d be exposed.
The Count knew that well, which was why he had never formed a formal contract with either the Hyungshin Society or Belzarak.
As the Chancellor of the Kingdom, international diplomacy was indispensable.
Even to fulfill Johan’s requests, the Count had to maintain freedom of movement.
For both Johan and Mapheltan, making a contract with the Count was unthinkable.
The Count spoke again.
“There are plenty of ways to bypass detection. In fact, some noblemen of the Empire…”
Johan cut him off.
“That’s enough of that. If you want Eriyan back, do what I told you before—make me Crown King. The moment I become Crown King, Eriyan will be revived.”
The Count swallowed dryly and took a sip of tea.
His aged hand trembled faintly.
“…Then at least, her face.”
“What?”
“Let me see her face from time to time.”
After a brief consideration, Johan responded.
“Fine. I’ll grant you that much. See her before you leave.”
The Count needed a breathing room too.
If he were to break down, it would become a serious problem for Johan.
The Count took a deep breath and said,
“Thank you for your generosity. Now, let’s move on to the main issue. Is your ultimate goal to become Crown King?”
The Crown Kingship was only a stepping stone.
“Well, for now, let’s say yes.”
“Then once the Miyatro Territory becomes a Principality, our partnership will be over.”
By that time, Eriyan would be revived too, so the Count was right.
There would be no remaining connection between them.
Johan smirked.
“What, don’t want to stay tangled up with me?”
“It’s not a matter of want or not. In the end, we’re destined to become enemies.”
Was that a hint of revenge? No. The Count was the type to hide hostility, not reveal it.
There had to be another reason for such words.
“What are you getting at?”
“Think about it. Eriyan will return as an angel, while you walk alongside the Apostle. Naturally, as an angel, she’ll stand with humanity. And I will have to fight the End for Eriyan’s sake. Structurally, we’re fated to meet again as enemies.”
Johan said,
“To me, it sounds like this—why are you so set on bringing Eriyan back as an angel instead of a demon?”
The Count nodded.
“Anyone can see it’s contradictory. You, walking with demons, trying to birth an angel into this world—it makes no sense.”
By corrupting the Heavenly Womb into a vile object, Eriyan could be revived easily.
Countless human sacrifices would be required, but Johan wouldn’t care.
He was a heretic anyway.
Or so the Count believed.
Johan opened his mouth.
“As I’ve said before, I have a cause. Reviving Eriyan as an angel is part of that. That’s all I’ll say.”
The Count replied,
“Understood. I won’t ask further. From now on, I’ll focus solely on making you Crown King.”
Johan expected him to press further, but the Count was surprisingly quick to accept.
“Start with the Order. If they keep stirring up trouble in the south, things will get complicated.”
“I’ve already sent word. There’ll be no further investigation.”
The pace of his work was startling.
“Incredible. Not only did you travel from Central to the South in two days, you even contacted the Church?”
It was physically impossible.
Even riding a horse nonstop would’ve taken at least a week.
“Haha, it was quite the ordeal.”
A sudden voice rang out.
Johan looked up.
There was a man plastered flat against the ceiling of the reception room.
It was Hakain.
Icicles were stabbed into his armpits, groin, and the crevice between neck and shoulder.
He was twisted into a comically contorted position, desperately trying to avoid being impaled.
Illea sipped her tea with a calm expression.
Johan asked her,
“Your handiwork?”
“Don’t be too harsh. I showed a lot of restraint.”
Johan sighed.
“Let him down now.”
As soon as he said it, the icicles melted and scattered.
Hakain landed gently and looked at Johan.
“We meet again. I apologize for the offense last time.”
He had threatened Johan’s life just a few days ago, but Johan didn’t hold any particular grudge.
Exploiting a weakness was natural.
Johan said,
“I don’t care about that. But Count—what is this?”
The Count had brought Hakain to this territory.
Now, Hakain knew full well that the Miyatro Territory was connected to an Apostle.
This was a serious breach for Johan.
The Count spoke.
“I can’t always come to see you alone. I need at least one right hand. If not for him, I wouldn’t have made it here alive. I certainly couldn’t have arrived this fast. The south is far and dangerous. With Hakain, I was safe. Don’t worry.”
Hakain lit a long-stemmed pipe and added,
“My lips are sealed. They must be. You won’t have to worry about anything.”
Illea interjected.
“If he dies, he won’t be able to say anything. Johan, what should we do?”
The Count responded.
“Hakain is bound to me by an ancient spell. He cannot defy my orders in any way.”
Johan already knew that.
But he was still annoyed by the Count’s unilateral action.
He frowned.
“Cromwell, you should’ve told me first.”
“I will next time. I was in too much of a hurry this time. Please understand.”
Johan thought for a moment.
Was there some hidden scheme behind this? Suspicion crept in.
It was inevitable when it came to the Count.
Johan spoke.
“Hakain stays with me for the time being.”
Now that Hakain knew too much, Johan couldn’t just let him go.
He had to find a way to completely silence him.
Depending on the case, he might have to kill him.
The Count said,
“You want me to return to the territory alone?”
Impossible.
“I’ll assign someone.”
“Can they carry me across hundreds of kilometers in two days?”
It seemed Hakain had carried the Count on his back all the way to the south.
“That’s not possible, but they’ll at least ensure your safe return.”
The Count looked dissatisfied.
“…Hmph.”
“It was your mistake. You deal with it.”
“I accept.”
Hakain scratched his cheek with the end of his pipe.
“What about my opinion?”
Johan ignored him.
“Back to the point—so the matter with the Order has been resolved?”
“There are some loose ends, but there won’t be any more investigations for a while.”
Johan nodded.
“Then let’s move on. Recommend me to the Royal Council as soon as possible.”
He planned to seize control of the Kingdom’s light through the Council.
“Only the head of a noble house can sit on the Council. You’re not the head of your house yet.”
Was that part of the law? Johan didn’t know the kingdom’s legal codes in detail.
“I’ll need to get the barony first.”
That was a position he could seize whenever he wanted.
“By Kingdom law, only nobles who’ve undergone their coming-of-age ceremony can be heads of a house. Even if you earn a barony before that, you’re only considered a proxy. Naturally, you can’t join the Council.”
He’d have to wait five more years for a proper coming-of-age.
Johan didn’t have that kind of time.
He clicked his tongue.
“I need to be on the Council now.”
“There’s no precedent. It’s essentially impossible.”
“But you don’t deal with impossibilities, do you?”
The Count looked at Johan closely and said,
“You’re not seriously suggesting I change the law?”
A smirk tugged at Johan’s lips.
“Change the law, purge the dissenters—whatever it takes, just get it done. I’ll join the Council as the Watcher of the Abyss.”
The Count exhaled a breath of disbelief.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“Use your power. The faster you meet my demands, the sooner your wife returns.”
“You’re really using Eriyan to her fullest.”
“I’ll take that as an agreement. Let’s move on.”
Johan intended to squeeze every last drop out of the Count.
“What else?”
Johan spoke calmly.
“Adopt a girl as your daughter.”
“…Adopt?”
Johan nodded.
“Her name is Illea. She’s very clever—she’ll be a great asset to you.”
Illea, sipping her tea, suddenly spit water all over the table.
The Count, seated directly across, was soaked.
She turned to Johan in a panic.
“Johan?”
Her pupils were shaking.