Chapter 42 The Marquis of Saint-Pierre (3)
Hall of Heart.
The center of the Imperial Palace, in other words, the emperor's office.
The sunlight that pierced through the window was engraved on the marble floor. The crest of the round table, which decorated the center of the flooring, was brilliant. While symbolizing the Platinum Round Table Orthodoxy, it was also a symbol that represented the Holy Numeros Empire.
Abel stood upon it. The pommel of his beloved sword held a faint radiance. It was because the brilliance that adorned the Hall of Heart was immense. So much so that even a weapon whose lifespan had ended would faintly shine.
“──Yo, Abel.”
But the emperor's voice was small.
“It's a pity we have to meet like this.”
The 117th Emperor of the Holy Numeros Empire, Luine Numeros, waved at Abel.
With a boyishly mischievous smile.
“An ingrown toenail has been bothering me.”
Luine had his legs up on the desk.
His right big toe, among them. He wiggled it, which was wrapped in a bandage, and let out a sigh.
“It looks fine to my eyes.”
Abel said in a stoic tone.
“Compared to Your Majesty's other wounds, that is.”
“Ha, a very appropriate admonishment.”
Khahat, and.
Luine, who burst into a hearty laugh.
Rubber hoses were connected to both of Luine's arms. It was to inject divine power 24 hours a day. A magic device, with various healing spells input, was operating beside Luine. Without it, he would have had to lie in bed without moving.
Though he had just passed thirty, his body was truly frail.
To support the strongest nation in Epezeria.
“Yes……, Abel. Shall I apologize first?”
Luine sat up straight. His long blond hair, long enough to drag on the floor, stirred. Though his face was pale, Luine's green eyes became clear, holding a playful glint.
“My invitation must not have been welcome. Since I called you in the middle of a banquet. Am I right?”
“Of course. You must have called me with that in mind.”
“Don't think too badly of it. You're my friend. How many people do you think can carry a weapon by my side? Friends can play a few pranks on each other.”
“I see. Were you satisfied?”
“I couldn't sleep a wink. Imagining your expression as you walked among the nobles. It was truly satisfying.”
“Please stop with the bluffs.”
Abel brushed back his hair.
“Weren't you unable to sleep because you were in pain?”
“Don't be like that.”
Luine waved his arm.
“I have no intention of dying. Not yet. I have to endure, even if I vomit blood from time to time, and often struggle with phantom pain. Of course, today……”
That's right.
It's a good day to die with no regrets.
Luine muttered, shrugging his shoulders.
“My disciple is waiting for me.”
Abel took a step towards Luine.
Standing facing the desk, he bowed his head and met Luine's gaze.
“I apologize, Your Majesty. I do not have the leisure to talk. My disciple is a commoner. It will be difficult for her to mix with the air of the imperial palace.”
“I've heard the story. That you took in a girl from the slums as your personal disciple?”
Luine laughed, baring his teeth.
To think that Abel of the Margin has taken on a personal disciple…….
It's an event where I could die with no regrets. That was what Luine thought. To think that a man who doesn't even blink when pierced by a sword has singled out a personal disciple. Though Abel's expression was steadfastly indifferent, Luine had the stratagem to see through its inside.
Emptiness. The driving force of Sword Saint Abel Argento must be that.
That man is different from an ordinary human. He is different from an orc, an elf, a dwarf, and a troll.
He was not talking about his body. He was pointing out his heart. Abel of the Margin has no heart. No. The word ‘no’ is somewhat strange. He must have a steadfast mind that can press down and kill all emotions. His heart is so strong that he can kill his heart.
And so, a madman. Abel of the Margin called himself a madman. It was truly appropriate. How can one kill their heart with their heart without going mad? It was truly a contradiction.
Like a beast that chews on itself.
“Let's get straight to the point. I can't be disturbing the time with your cute personal disciple.”
Luine propped his chin on his hand.
“I will talk about three things, Sword Saint.”
On the desk that Luine was facing, three bundles of documents were placed. They had been prepared before Abel's visit. Since he knew well enough that they were both lacking in leisure.
“First.”
Luine held out the leftmost bundle of documents.
“The invasion incident that occurred a month ago. The investigation on it has been roughly completed. Duke Orléans was of great help. How about you take a look?”
Abel scanned the bundle of documents.
There was no unexpected information. After the Mirror War, the returnees who had followed each prince had planned an uprising. In short, it was a rebellion caused by the madmen who had been deluded by war.
‘And Felix Christian…….’
No, facts related to the nameless Holy Knight were also recorded. It was a personal history obtained under the leadership of Iris. The cause of his daughter's death was illness. The cause of his spouse's death was suicide. His history up until his return was neat. If there was anything outstanding, it would be his name. The real name of the nameless Holy Knight was as cliché as it could get.
A common male name.
That was why it stood out even more.
“War is truly strange. Isn't it, Abel?”
Luine stroked his chin.
“They say even the main gods cannot bring about its end. And so, the God of War repeatedly harms himself? It's a truly sad thing.”
“I agree.”
Abel placed the bundle of documents down.
“How do you plan to announce it to the public?”
“What can I do.”
I'll have to borrow brother Cherkio's name.
Luine whispered so.
“I plan to announce it as a rebellion caused by the remaining forces of the 2nd Prince. I'm sorry to my brother, but what can I do. It's all thanks to you. It would have been troublesome if the corpses had remained.”
Abel nodded his head.
He picked up the bundle of documents placed in the center and turned the cover.
“Second.”
Luine's voice lowered.
“When the capital was being invaded, Grand Duke Marchand came to see me. He threw me some artifact. Saying he was wishing for my safety. But wasn't it strange?”
Abel quickly read the information written on the document.
The artifact that Grand Duke Marchand had given him. Information related to it was written.
“It was a truly precious item, but……, it seems the Grand Duke underestimated me.”
It was as Luine had said.
Abel recalled Grand Duke Marchand. The slick old man he had met at the White Night Ball. He had a clear tendency to look down on Luine, who was from the 4th Prince's line.
Was that why? It seemed Grand Duke Marchand had not expected it. That Luine would personally trace the import route of the artifact.
“It was an item with a rather dirty history. Grand Duke Marchand said he had purchased it at a foreign auction house, but my thoughts are a little different.”
Abel nodded his head.
He turned the document and looked at the rest of the content. It was not difficult to grasp Luine's intention.
Apostates.
The artifact that Grand Duke Marchand had given was something that the apostates had possessed. The further back one went along the import route, the more suspicious circumstances were captured.
Had he joined hands with the group of apostates? Abel thought quietly. If the apostates had supported the commotion that had occurred a month ago, and were even influencing the deep parts of the empire…….
“Abel, if you hadn't been there, a great chaos would have occurred.”
Luine said with a sigh-laden voice.
“Dozens of warships surrounded the skies of the capital. Though it was averted thanks to your achievements, concerns about the imperial family must be going back and forth in the shadows.”
“I agree. You must have organized the banquet knowing that.”
“I have to prove the steadfastness of the imperial family. My, the position of an emperor is truly uncomfortable. It's like a swallowtail butterfly stuck in a spider's web.”
“I also did not expect this situation.”
“Who would have expected it. It was an unimaginable thing. Teleportation magic is a spell with poor fuel efficiency. I've never heard of a case where so many warships were teleported. What kind of means could have been used?”
Not mages, but……,
It must be seen that they borrowed the power of something else.
Luine whispered so.
“So, Abel, I want to see the root of this incident.”
“Do you have any guesses?”
“Well……”
A smile spread across Luine's lips.
“It seems the apostates have created some kind of religious group. The eastern border area……, it seems they are expanding their power from there.”
The eastern border area.
Is it the place that borders the old territory of the Vianchiel Kingdom?
Abel's gaze sharpened. The cursed artifact that had deluded Dante. That sword was also made using steel from the Vianchiel Kingdom. All the incidents must be related. There was no room for doubt.
“As you would know, I cannot interrogate Grand Duke Marchand.”
Abel lifted his head.
He met Luine's gaze.
“He is a relative of the imperial family. It's not that I particularly have any affection for him, but if I were to rashly lay a hand on him, the aftermath would be considerable.”
“It is not an incident worthy of Your Majesty's intervention. It would be fine to leave it to the Duke of Orléans.”
“Of course. It seems she has already taken action. So, Abel……”
As for you.
I'm thinking of asking you for another favor.
Luine whispered so.
“Do you know of the Marquis of Saint-Pierre?”
“I do.”
“Then this will be quick. The research achievements of the Marquis of Saint-Pierre are exceptional. They are of great help to the empire. The public opinion in noble society is also not bad. The new nobles revere him ardently.”
“What does Your Majesty think?”
Abel's blackish-blue eyes sank coldly.
“About the Marquis of Saint-Pierre, I mean.”
“Well.”
Luine shrugged his shoulders.
“I didn't want to keep brother Cherkio's close aide alive. But should I say that the grounds to accuse him of his sins were insufficient, or that he was too useful? It's not like an emperor can just act as he pleases. The throne is nothing more than a golden cage. But he seems to be crossing the line. Rumors are also circulating that he has colluded with the apostates.”
“Are you saying I should investigate the Marquis of Saint-Pierre.”
“You got it right.”
Tak, and.
Luine snapped his fingers.
“How about it? You were getting bored just in time, right? To be a Sword Saint and teaching kids. Wouldn't it be a good source of vitality?”
“……Teaching children is also quite a handful.”
Abel recalled the students of CIAR.
Traps, duels, interrogations. The things that had happened so far went through his mind. Finally, he let out a long sigh, and,
“The only daughter of the Marquis of Saint-Pierre is my student. I will accept your command.”
Abel examined the third bundle of documents.
It was thinner than the previous two bundles.
“Finally, third.”
As he turned the cover, listening to Luine's voice,
“It's a message from the Pope.”
A messily scribbled letter was revealed.
Howcouldyounotsendmeasingleletter?
I'mspeechlessAbelIreallydon'tunderstandhowmuchIcherishedyouhowcouldyounotsendmeasinglemessageassoonasyouleftforCIARsad,sad,sadbutthat'swhyit'sfunthisyou'vecausedanothergreatincidentbythewayI…….
“Ahahat! It seems my wife cherishes you greatly.”
Luine laughed, clutching his stomach.
All emperors shall take the Pope as their official wife. It was one of the customs that encompassed the Holy Numeros Empire. Because only a woman was appointed as the Pope, and only a man was appointed as the emperor. It was a process where the two powers that supported the empire formed an allied relationship.
Of course, it was nothing more than a nominal marriage. It was frequent for the emperor to take other wives. That was why Luine was a rare emperor. Because he was not taking any other wives besides the Pope.
“Your Majesty is……”
Abel placed the Pope's personal letter down.
Then he asked Luine.
“Do you love Her Holiness.”
“Of course. Is there any doubt?”
Luine answered without hesitation.
“I was born with an incurable disease. It wouldn't be strange if I were to die at any time. Today, tomorrow, and the day after. To me, every day is a good day to die.”
So I can't help but find her lovely.
Isn't that right, Abel?
Luine asked so.
“An emperor born with a terminal illness is in love with a Pope who enjoys an eternal life……”
It's a truly fitting thing, isn't it?
Luine thought, nodding his head.
For a mayfly was a law that was extinguished under the light.
* * *
“It's been a while. Marquis of Saint-Pierre.”
Iris said with her arms crossed.
A sneer was on her coolly extended lips.
“Your face is still unpleasant to look at. It's like looking at the head of a snake rolling in a snowfield.”
“Thank you, Iron-blooded Maiden. It seems you have been well in the meantime.”
The Marquis of Saint-Pierre, Deserick, nodded his head.
A game board was placed between the two. The game was chess. Servants were setting up the chess pieces. A game board honed from limestone, and pieces carved from jewels. They were absurd items to be used for a game.
- How truly fortunate. It seems today's prey is the Marquis of Saint-Pierre.
- What do you mean, uncle? Prey. They're just playing chess.
- Oh dear, you don't know the social world well. A game of chess with Duke Orléans is truly a time of reprimand.
- That's right. After setting up a game board to prevent them from leaving their seat, she pokes at their weak spots while facing them.
The murmur of the nobles decorated the banquet hall.
The ball had been over for a long time. The nobles who had been continuing their small talk formed a crowd. It was to watch the game of chess between Iris and Deserick.
- Look. That gaze that seems to have fangs. Iris René von Orléans. She is the real power of the capital.
A certain old noble laughed hollowly.
The Iron-blooded Maiden. The woman who had confined her father and slaughtered most of her siblings to inherit the family. There were few nobles who could point out Iris's past. Since she had become the emperor's close aide before reaching the age of thirty, and was also skilled in power struggles, assassinating the heads of rival families one after another.
- But she is truly beautiful. To think a woman of such appearance is still single……. Is it because she is that stern?
A certain young noble let out a small sigh.
Light pink eyes like the finest fruit. Purple hair that held the radiance of a chandelier. A clear voice like the ringing of an iron plate. Iris's appearance was truly beautiful. And above all, her expression. The strong expression on her beautiful face created a strange contrast.
“You have a great reputation, Duke Orléans.”
Deserick picked up a Pawn.
A white infantryman moved forward slightly.
“It is difficult to hear the news of the capital in the north. However, I have often received news of the Duke of Orléans. It seems you are active in various fields.”
“Well, as much as you?”
Iris moved a Bishop.
A black cleric crossed the diagonal of the game board.
“A strange rumor is circulating, Marquis.”
Tuk, and.
A black Bishop knocked over a white Pawn.
“They say your experiment is challenging a taboo. Is that true?”
“I am nothing more than a creature woven by the main gods. I am just serving for a better world.”
“How interesting. What is a better world to you?”
“It is difficult to put into words. The achievements of my family will testify.”
It was a close battle.
The pieces, divided into black and white, were knocked over one after another.
The murmur of the nobles who were watching the state of the game intensified.
- The Marquis of Saint-Pierre, you see. They say he's been living alone ever since his wife passed away. He must have loved her a lot. I heard she was a commoner…….
A certain young noble whispered in an excited tone.
Deserick's appearance was elegant. Though he had reached forty, he was as young as a young man. And was that all? Even when he extended his arm, even when he straightened his posture, he showed a noble air. And above all, his expression. The smile on his coolly honed face was so very warm.
- Shh! Quiet. That bastard is a madman.
A certain old noble shuddered.
- Don't even think of associating with Deserick. That man is one of the main culprits who led the Mirror War to a tragedy. Do you know how many people died because of him? Even if you were to build a mountain with their corpses, there would be leftovers. It's just that you can't see it because he didn't even leave a corpse…….
That's right.
The nobles who had been involved in the Mirror War knew.
A fragment of the tragedy that Deserick de Saint-Pierre had caused.
He had killed countless subjects, and did not feel even a sliver of guilt. He had committed a sin worthy of death, but his achievements as an inventor had only extended his lifeline. Even the nobles who were steeped in the status system shook their heads at Deserick's atrocities.
‘……Yes.’
Meanwhile, Monika stood leaning against the wall.
‘That man is the Marquis of Saint-Pierre…….’
Deserick's form was captured in the center of her amber eyes.
Her chest felt stuffy. It was as if her heart were being scratched by a fingernail with a deadly poison on it. Why is my mouth, which is dry of saliva, so stuffy? It was as unpleasant as if she were chewing on a piece of bone.
But no. Hold it in. Monika gripped her prosthetic arm. While holding her trembling prosthetic arm, she stared at Deserick's neck.
It's thin and white. That man's neck.
If I were to bury my ten fingers in it with all my might, and press down without mercy, it would surely crumble.
“Are you bored, Monika Lohengrin.”
At that moment, a voice from beside Monika.
“I understand. We cannot interfere between them. We don't feel it's worth interfering. A warrior's festival doesn't need any pretense. That's why you came in a uniform too, right?”
He was truly a huge man.
A man larger than an orc was standing side by side with Monika. The roughly swollen muscles seemed about to tear his formal suit, and what was on his face, decorated with a bushy beard, was a pure wildness. Is this what it would be like if a bear wore a suit? Monika stared at the man, dazed.
“Um……”
After hesitating for a moment, Monika opened her mouth.
“Who are you? How do you know my name……”
“We have met before.”
The man chuckled.
“This one's name is Drogo. Drogo von Babenberg le Zylon.”
One of the chairpersons of CIAR and the head of the Zylon family.
The duke who protected the northernmost tip of the empire, Drogo stated his name and then pounded his chest with his right fist.
“I wanted to meet you, Monika.”
It was the military's way of saluting.
Drogo had greeted Monika as a soldier.
“This one has something to apologize to you for.”
So I ask you.
Will you have a chat with me, and.
Drogo asked in a serious tone.