Chapter 493
There’s Something You Need to Do. (2)
There is no one in this world without ambition. Whether great or small, humans naturally desire to achieve something.
Zwalter was no different. He, too, had a dream.
To stabilize the North and ensure his people lived happily. And beyond that, to live peacefully with his loved ones without great hardship.
That was enough for him.
‘My dream was coming true.’
Thanks to his son, the territory had prospered, and the North, which had long been a thorn in his family's side, had been pacified. The remaining savages were slowly integrating with the people of Ferdium, and new villages were steadily forming.
Zwalter, who had lived his life shouldering responsibility, was finally seeing his dream realized.
He only felt a little lonely because he missed his wife, who had passed away before him. Other than that, he lacked nothing.
‘I thought that was enough.’
He truly did. Once this war was over, he planned to pass down his position to his son and enjoy the rest of his days in peace.
Having spent his entire life in worry, he felt he deserved that much.
But now, they were telling him to become king? Was it something he could just agree to and make happen?
Suppressing his turbulent thoughts, Zwalter asked in a trembling voice.
"I... I am a noble who has pledged loyalty to the kingdom."
"You know that it no longer holds any meaning."
"……."
The king had allied himself with a heretical cult responsible for countless deaths. If they remained passive, they would all be doomed.
So yes, Zwalter’s loyalty has lost its meaning.
"But... I do not wish to be king."
Zwalter truly had no such ambition. Becoming the great lord of a prosperous territory was already more than enough for him.
A king? That was something he had never even considered in his lifetime. To be honest, he just wanted to retire early and rest.
Ghislain, still watching Zwalter, who was in a daze, spoke.
"The people of the kingdom and the nobles need a unifying figure."
"Does it have to be me? You could take that role."
Whoever aimed for the throne would have to overthrow the kingdom by force. And the only person with the strength to do that was Ghislain, who led the Northern Army.
By that logic, it was only natural for Ghislain himself to ascend the throne.
But Ghislain did not see it that way.
"No. Not yet. You are still a better choice than me, Father."
"Why?"
"I will have to continue fighting on the frontlines with my retainers. I must also aid our allied nations. If I were just ruling a single territory, perhaps I could manage, but governing an entire kingdom would be too much."
"Hmm…"
"And the other nobles would prefer you over me."
In terms of reputation alone, Ghislain was overwhelmingly superior to Zwalter. However, the nobles found Ghislain unsettling.
If they did overthrow the kingdom, they would have no choice but to follow him out of fear. But no one would want to serve a young and fierce warlord.
Zwalter, however, was different. His noble rank was high, and he was of considerable age. His dedication to protecting the North was well known.
The only reason Ferdium had been looked down upon was because of its past poverty. No one had ever spoken ill of Zwalter's character.
For the nobles, he was the most acceptable choice the one they could bend the knee to without completely wounding their pride.
Zwalter understood what Ghislain was implying.
"…I see."
This was a momentous decision, yet no one outright objected as they once might have. Because if they did nothing, they would be the ones to die.
In the awkward silence, Homerne, the Chief Overseer, cautiously asked.
"If we succeed… would that make me the Chancellor?"
Everyone glared at him. Was that really the most important thing right now?
Even Ghislain, who had not considered the finer details yet, blinked a few times before answering.
"Uh… well… for the time being?"
Until the kingdom stabilized, key positions had to be filled with people from Ferdium. The retainers of Fenris had to continue fighting alongside him in the ongoing wars.
At Ghislain’s response, Homerne chuckled sheepishly and looked at Zwalter.
"Brother… I mean, my lord. If we want to live, we don’t have much of a choice. Looks like we have to do it…"
"……."
This time, Albert, the Treasurer, hesitantly asked.
"Me… too? Would that make me the kingdom’s Treasurer?"
"Uh… well… for the time being…"
Even Albert, who always maintained a cold demeanor, suppressed a smirk as he turned to Zwalter.
"My lord, we have no other option. The Young Lord is right."
"……."
Randolph, looking hopeful, stepped forward.
"Then… does that mean I get to be Supreme Commander of the kingdom’s military?"
"No, I will be taking that position."
Ghislain answered firmly. All military forces needed to operate under his direct command.
Randolph’s face fell slightly.
"I’ll give you the position of Royal Knight Commander instead."
Randolph’s expression brightened again. That position was just as prestigious as Supreme Commander.
"Brother! The king and the Duke of Delfine won’t leave us alone anyway! We might as well overthrow them all at once!"
"……."
The other retainers stared at Ghislain in disbelief. He was casually distributing the kingdom’s key positions as he pleased.
Was that something that could be decided so easily?
Still, if they truly succeeded, they would all secure high-ranking positions.
Managing Ferdium at the same time would be a challenge, but they had significantly reinforced their administrative staff, so it wouldn’t be a major issue.
More importantly, governing a kingdom took precedence.
Everyone accepted the idea of claiming a position for themselves as a given.
‘If the Young Lord says we’re doing it, then we’re doing it.’
‘Yeah. If we fail, we just die. Simple as that.’
‘Besides, there’s no point in arguing. He won’t listen anyway.’
If they succeeded, a new dynasty would rise. If they failed, they would die as traitors.
But they had no choice in the matter.
So, instead of dwelling on the risks, they all chose to entertain hopeful thoughts.
With one voice, they spoke to Zwalter.
"My lord, you must make a decision. The king and the Duke of Delfine will attack us regardless."
"The Young Lord is right. If we are to fight, we must be fully prepared from now on."
"We can’t just sit back and wait to be struck down, can we?"
"This is a king who has sided with a heretical cult. We cannot follow him."
That sentiment spread like wildfire among them.
In the past, they would have trembled in fear, worrying endlessly about what to do. They would have fought reluctantly, simply because they didn’t want to die.
Even now, they fought to survive, but the atmosphere was completely different.
‘With the Young Lord leading us, we can win.’
‘The Northern Army is the strongest in the kingdom.’
‘When have we ever lost?’
All of this was thanks to Ghislain. Because of him, the people of Ferdium had found their confidence.
And so, one after another, they turned their eager gazes toward Zwalter.
‘Hah…’
Zwalter let out a deep, wry chuckle as he looked at his retainers.
These men, who had always been poor and timid, were now revealing their ambitions, all because they believed in Ghislain.
If they remained passive, they would die. So they might as well overturn everything.
That his son could make them accept such a grim reality so naturally…
His son had truly become someone great.
Zwalter was proud of him, but that pride did not ease his dilemma.
‘Do I really have to do this?’
He had always taken pride in being a loyal servant of the kingdom.
Honor, loyalty, and responsibility those were the principles that had shaped his life.
If this were nothing more than a struggle for power, he would have rejected Ghislain’s proposal without hesitation.
‘Why would His Majesty make such a choice?’
The Salvation Church had created rifts, waged wars, and slaughtered countless innocent people. And they would continue to do so.
By siding with them, the king had effectively condoned their atrocities.
‘This cannot be allowed. If the Salvation Church triumphs, every citizen of the kingdom will become a sacrifice.’
Zwalter could not stand by and watch that happen. Hadn’t he spent his entire life defending the Northern Fortress to protect the people?
‘The other kingdoms and the Four Major Temples will not let this kingdom be. Eventually, they will tear it apart and divide the spoils.’
He was loyal to the kingdom for the sake of its safety, not to help destroy it.
Even if he tried to stand by the king’s side and shield him from criticism, the king and the Duke of Delfine would still try to destroy the Northern Army.
In the end, there was no choice.
‘My love, I never thought I would see a day like this.’
Zwalter had never known that his wife, Annette, had once served to protect the royal family.
And Annette could never have imagined that her husband and son would one day seek to bring down that same royal family.
Sometimes, the tides of history moved in ways no one could predict.
After a long moment of contemplation, Zwalter nodded.
Retirement would have to wait a little longer.
"Very well. We’ll do as you say."
At Zwalter’s decision, the retainers’ expressions brightened. Though they were nervous, the thrill of making history outweighed their fear.
Belinda, who had followed Ghislain, clenched her fists.
‘Our young master is really going to become the Grand Duke of the North!’
Before, they had only pursued the title out of necessity. But if this plan succeeded, he could claim it rightfully.
While it was rare for a king’s child to bear the title of Grand Duke, it wasn’t unheard of for a regional ruler. If they wanted, they could simply declare it themselves.
And she would personally see to that.
Zwalter turned to Ghislain and spoke.
"When do you plan to act?"
"Soon. We’re gathering intelligence on the capital as we speak."
The spies were more active than ever. The information Ghislain wanted would soon arrive.
Zwalter nodded a few times before rising from his seat.
Looking around at his retainers, he spoke slowly.
“Inspect all supplies and muster the troops. When Count Fenris makes his move, we will march on the capital together.”
“Yes, my lord.”
All the retainers bowed their heads. A solemn determination flickered across their faces.
The ducal family wanted them dead. Even the king had joined in. In the past, they might have trembled in fear.
But this was not the weak and impoverished Ferdium of old. It was no longer the Ferdium that simply endured injustice and oppression.
Things were different now. If their enemies wished to kill them, they would have to be prepared to die as well.
Though Ghislain had been the one to propose this course of action, deep down, they had longed for it themselves.
Watching them, Zwalter spoke again, his voice imbued with authority.
“We will be the ones to save this kingdom.”
* * *
The atmosphere in the capital was grim.
It had been that way ever since the king reclaimed his power.
Even within the Royalist faction, nobles who had been suppressed by the Marquis of Branford quickly pledged their allegiance to the king.
“Hahaha, to think there were still so many loyal subjects in this kingdom.”
The king was delighted, and he began distributing the authorities previously held by other nobles among his new supporters.
For the king, it was preferable to divide power rather than consolidate it under a single individual. Another figure like the Marquis of Branford could not be allowed to emerge.
The nobles were also pleased to receive even a fraction of the power that had once been concentrated in a select few.
A reorganization of authority was inevitable.
If only things had ended there, it might have been fine.
If only Berhem hadn’t done something so strange.
“There aren’t enough prisoners?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. There are not many death-row inmates in the capital.”
Now a newly elevated marquis, Viscount Domont wore a troubled expression.
Thanks to the Marquis of Branford, the capital had enjoyed excellent security. As a result, there were almost no criminals.
But to continue treating Berhem, an enormous number of ‘death-row inmates’ were needed.
“Did I not issue decrees to the provinces? Surely there must be plenty of prisoners with all the bandits roaming about.”
“They are being transported to the capital, but it will take some time.”
“Ugh! I do not have time! How long am I supposed to wait?”
“……”
At Berhem’s urgent outburst, Marquis Domont had no answer. How could he produce prisoners out of thin air?
It was then that Placus leaned in and whispered to Berhem.
“Strengthen the laws and arrest even those who commit minor offenses.”
“Hmm, would that be acceptable?”
“The people will welcome it. Fewer criminals mean a safer kingdom.”
“Indeed! A kingdom without crime is an ideal realm, is it not?”
“Precisely. Our church, too, dreams of such a world. Moreover, Your Majesty’s health is of utmost importance. You are the kingdom itself, and everything within it belongs to you.”
“Quite right. From today onward, I will strengthen the laws. Chamberlain.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“From this day forth, no crime shall be forgiven. There is no distinction between greater and lesser offenses. Punishment shall be unified under a single sentence.”
Berhem grinned cruelly.
“All criminals will be sentenced to death.”
Marquis Domont swallowed hard at the sight of the madness in Berhem’s eyes.
He knew better than anyone that the king’s mind was not sound. He had tended to him for years.
But the moment Berhem ascended the throne, all the twisted impulses he had once suppressed came surging forth.
‘Did I do the right thing?’
Their coup had succeeded, and now the Domont family stood at the pinnacle of the capital’s aristocracy. They had received vast amounts of gold and silver, and their titles had soared.
Yet it felt like walking on thin ice. The king was, at the very least, half insane.
‘There is no turning back now.’
Marquis Domont steeled his resolve. He had seized a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity; he could not afford to let it slip away.
“Yes, Your Majesty. I will see it done immediately.”
Berhem now held absolute power within the capital. Everything proceeded according to his will.
A world without crime it was an appealing notion. Perhaps some might even welcome Berhem’s policies.
But the real problem lay elsewhere.
“P-please, spare me! I have done nothing wrong!”
“Just come quietly. We will investigate, and if you are innocent, you will be released.”
Even those who had committed no crimes were arrested on the slightest suspicion. None of them ever returned home.
To inflate their records, soldiers began digging into people's pasts and arresting them for trivial offenses. Those taken away were all used as ‘offerings’ for Berhem.
“Ooooh… Strength… I feel strength surging through me.”
Deep within the royal palace, in a hidden stone chamber…
Berhem sat at the center of a massive, bloodstained magic circle.
Corpses surrounded him. Prisoners who had been dragged here were sacrificed to sustain the ritual.
The magic circle, filled with their flowing blood, glowed a sinister red.
Berhem burst into manic laughter.
“More! Bring me more prisoners! It is not enough! If there are none, then make some up and bring them in!”
His thirst was insatiable.
And to quench it, he needed people.
More and more blood offerings.