Chapter 6 – The Royal Capital, Under Thunder and Dragon
The King’s Brother’s Perspective
The Valley of Death.
The tribe’s stronghold, and my present lodging. The former Duke Alcott’s coup failed, and I met the misery of exile to an island… well, that too is a diversion.
“Stop, please, stop!”
In the cavern, its passages and rooms threaded through the sheer rock like an ant’s nest, a woman’s screaming carries well again today.
“Learn first that if you behave, we won’t hurt you, that’s the lesson!”
“Stop, stop it, aaah!”
The tribe are hard at it night after night. Every night the screams of some woman carried off from who-knows-where echo from who-knows-where, well, well, a fine performance as ever. Eat, sleep, drink, and violate. The tribe put on no airs. They mind no fine points. They live simply as they wish to live, and do as they please to do.
—Yes, this is how a human being ought to be.
Well, an inn done up as a cavern with the bare rock left showing is a touch beneath me, but set that aside and it’s a splendid lodging. The orchestra of screams each night is a particular favorite. Want a woman, and women bubble up endlessly from the cells; want a meal, and I can eat it without minding manners. To my surprise, the tribe’s food is better than I’d have thought. Or perhaps it’s only that, in my thirst for freedom, I take pleasure in a meal where I tear at meat straight off the bone.
As a candidate for the succession, I was born and raised amid the nagging of greybeards—dignity, and what a royal must be. The coup failed, I was exiled, and the cramped life there was beyond imagining. Even those I might meet were limited, and with anyone of some rank, every word of conversation was recorded… truly, even now, nothing but a nightmare. That I, a royal, should be placed under management, that I, born to a special station, should writhe in the loss of freedom, such things must not be.
And while I passed my days on the island, near forgetting the very concept of freedom, that red-haired boy drew me out into the wider world. It was he, they say, who granted the tribe this land, and the protection of the War-Maiden of Aegis, besides. That the boy is worshipped as a god among the tribe I learned only recently. The devotion runs fervid; when the War-Maiden of Aegis broke a subjugation army two hundred years ago, the celebration is said to have swelled so out of hand that it left a heap of dead and wounded.
In any case, the boy gave me vast sums, and connections with the tribe and other well-behaved sorts keen to rough work. And on top of it, a chart of the court’s present balance of power, and a list of upright nobles who’d take a bribe. As payment, he says, he’ll take his fill in the form of the people’s suffering, once I am king. I feel a faint chill at it, but very well. The boy laughed and called it a devil’s bargain, selling the people down the river, but that suits me.
—I am content so long as it goes well for me.
However the people suffer, their voices don’t reach the court. Let the people starve, and the court overflows with food all the same. That is the truth of this world, no different in the least from this dwelling of the tribe, where the strong rule all. Yes, I, who am royal, who am a vessel of the true king, have the right to sit the throne and revel in freedom, as the tribe do. To set the kingdom to its proper shape, the people’s suffering isn’t worth weighing in the scale.
“But, is this truly all right, Your Highness the King’s Brother?”
The one who spoke was Orgren. A baron, the lowest rank of noble, but the clever fellow who bowed his head to me first of all. Just now he’s charged with guarding some frontier fort, I hear, but a proper act deserves a proper reward, and I mean to make heavy use of him hereafter.
“All right in which respect?”
“Both. A raid on the royal capital by the tribe, leading an army of the undead. In concert with it, an armed rising by the nobles who back Your Highness… truly, with this we could bring the capital down. But…”
“Ha, come to think of it, the tribe are pitiable creatures, aren’t they. Descendants of past felons though they are, a people who can live only by pillage on barren ground… if they lend a hand to fulfilling my dearest wish, ceding a quarter of the realm is cheap. No, it’s proper payment for their labor.”
“Well, for my part, however much the realm shrinks as a whole… so long as I’m raised from baron to duke, I’ve no complaint. But House Alcott is said to be this kingdom’s talisman blade, you know? Your Highness surely knows the old saying?”
“The words left by the king of four hundred years past, the benevolent King Arvine?”
“Just so. The Thunder God’s protection is not with the nation. It is with House Alcott. That saying… catches at me a little.”
At that I burst out laughing. I’d thought I knew this man for a coward, but I hadn’t dreamed he was this far gone. Well, that’s exactly what makes him an easy subordinate.
“Don’t be a fool. What is there to fear in the ravings… of a four-hundred-year-old ghost? That House Alcott was truly the nation’s talisman blade is a tale of four hundred years ago, when the Thunder God Emperor yet lived.”
“W-well, that’s so, but.”
“In any case, use that commoner-born Ephthal you saw at the fort to corner the ducal house. Among the Crown Prince’s faction, the current Duke Alcott, Fraser, seems oddly well-liked.”
“A warning to the Crown Prince’s faction… you mean?”
“That you couldn’t work the men I arranged to send from the capital to the fort into an army of the undead was your bungle. Botch this any worse, and the talk of making you the successor to House Alcott may come to nothing, hm?”
At that Orgren went pale and bowed his head, over and over.
“A-as you command! Leave it to me! I’ll bring House Alcott down in fine style!”
And Orgren rose and left the room. And there the white-haired dotard who attends at my side opened his mouth, worn utterly thin.
“Your Highness… at this rate the nation will perish.”
“What is it, greybeard? If it’s your nagging, I’ll not hear it.”
“Luring the tribe into the realm… what you are doing is the inviting of foreign aggression. Royal or no, you’ll not escape a death sentence!”
“A pity. I found you a nuisance, yet never sent you off as an aide. Because as my tutor in childhood… we have a bond that runs deep.”
“A pity, you say?”
“To think you were a spy of the Crown Prince’s faction.”
“What foolishness! I was charged by the late king to watch over you. That whatever happened, in any circumstance, I alone was to protect you! And so, and so! Aghast to the depths of my heart, I have yet never cast you off…!”
And there the dotard, as if resigned, sat himself down cross-legged before me.
“Your Highness! Watch well!”
Then the dotard stripped off his coat and bared himself to the waist. As I looked on, curious what he meant to do, the dotard drew a short blade and glared at me.
“What? So you truly were a spy? You mean to harm me with that blade?”
“No. As my last loyalty to the late king, I stake my life… and persuade you!”
“Ho, persuade, is it?”
“Your Highness, you mean to make of your lands a war, a hell. This is the last work of your old tutor! You, think far too lightly of a person’s living and dying! Because you’ve never seen death before your eyes! Because you’ve never seen a man’s blood! Then this greybeard will show Your Highness death!”
And the dotard drove the short blade into his own belly.
“This… is a man’s death. You kept me… at your side… this long. Then… let my death… not be… in vain… and this meaning…”
“Come to think of it, in the East there’s a custom called seppuku, isn’t there.”
The dotard moved the driven blade sideways, cutting his belly open. By the natural course of it, blood and viscera came bursting out.
“Con… sider it… I beg… let my… life… not go… to waste…”
Eyes flung wide, to the dotard with his death’s-resolve face, I gave a small nod.
“Aye, I’ll not let it go to waste.”
“…Thank… good…”
“The tribe king was saying so, you see. Your life won’t be wasted, henceforth you’ll live on inside a Minotaur.”
“Wh… at…?”
“A monster, the tribe king’s favorite pet. It’s fond of lively feed, it seems. He and I are sworn friends… now there’s a fine gift I can give. You there—someone! Is no one about?! A fine, fresh live feed here!”
And the dotard, saying this at the last, closed the nagging mouth he’d opened at me every day these last decades.
“To think… you were… this far… a fool…”
To the corpse that crumpled with a thud, I gave a “hmph,” a snort of the nose.
Ephthal’s Perspective
“A noble’s inquisition is to be held against me?”
Woken by a knock at the door, summoned to my brother’s study, I let out a thoroughly bewildered voice.
“Yes. This afternoon an inquisitor visits the house. At the least, we can’t avoid submitting to his questioning… I’m afraid.”
“Wait a moment, what does this mean?”
“The truth is—” And my brother laid out the situation, and it was an ugly one.
The fort where we’d fought alongside Angus-san had that baron’s man commanding it as captain, and it seems the fellow was a piece of work. In the thick of that battle he fled, alone, himself, but it appears he’s sent all manner of reports to the court, true and false, about me, the quasi-noble who took part in the fighting. By my brother’s account, the charges laid on me are desertion before the enemy and assault on a superior officer. The tale runs that, terrified of the monster-horde the tribe wielded, I fled alone, cut down the baron who tried to stop me, and ran off by myself.
“…What an outrageous story. He was the one who fled to begin with.”
“Yes, and of course… you’d do no such thing, Ephthal. Your magic is in a realm beyond human ken, after all.”
“Ah, keep that part quiet, would you, Brother.”
“That, of course. From your account, most of it is him spouting true and false alike to muddy his own crime of desertion, I’d say?”
“But I’ve brought a nuisance down on you at a hard time for the whole ducal house. I’m sorry, Brother.”
At that my brother smiled.
“You’re not at fault, so there’s no need to mind it. In any case, let’s tell the noble inquisitor the truth.”
“…Mm.”
“But, Ephthal. The palace now is a nest of vipers. There’s no telling what may happen… in the worst case, pay no mind to my position, and use your true power if you must.”
“What do you mean?”
“If it looks as though you’ll be hauled off and thrown in prison, escape by force. You’re able to.”
“Well, that’s so, but I can’t do a thing like that and leave you behind.”
Well, in any case, there’s nothing for it but to tell the truth, as my brother says. I’ve a bad feeling about it, but whatever comes, it depends on how the enemy plays his hand. And I let out a deep sigh.
⁂
“There’s no explaining your way out of this, Duke Alcott!”
In the drawing room, a portly man, a short-sword in hand, cried out with a lofty air. Or rather, it was Baron Orgren, the fort’s garrison captain, doing the crying.
“This is the sword, a treasure of our house, that was stolen during the fighting at the fort! And it turned up from the room of that quasi-noble there, Ephthal!”
Fraser nii-san and I traded a look, our heads filling with question marks.
“This boy Ephthal cut down me, who tried to stop his desertion, and made off with this treasured blade! And the blade turned up in Ephthal’s room, there’s physical evidence, so it can only be said that Ephthal’s guilt is now beyond all doubt!”
Once more, Fraser nii-san’s head and mine filled with question marks.
“No, first of all, why is a garrison captain serving as inquisitor?”
It had been my question all along, but he’d only ranted one-sidedly, so there’d been no chance to ask. And at my words the baron gave a great nod.
“By the arrangement of an influential figure at court, I was granted the chance to clear the wound and disgrace I suffered.”
Ugh… whatever else, this is atrocious. An inquisitor is granted judicial authority too, a being feared even by great nobles. To make private use of it… truly, the court’s situation looks near its terminal stage.
“I see, that much I follow. Then, why do you hold what turned up from my room?”
“A maid who grieves for the nation carried it out of this mansion, and made a brave denunciation to us together with the evidence.”
At the words, Fraser nii-san tilted his head, all how so?
“A maid, by what name?”
“A maid called Emelda, I’m told.”
“No, we employ no such maid in this house… surely there’s some error?”
“Hahaha, your little jokes. There’s my testimony as a baron, and the evidence is assembled. What error do you call this?”
“No, as I say…”
And there the inquisitor smirked.
“Well, well, to cut down the on-scene commander who tried to stop your desertion… a rather valiant younger brother you have there, Duke Alcott.”
“Might you lend our side of it an ear, Inquisitor Orgren?”
As if he’d no ear to lend, the inquisitor went on.
“But, Ephthal-kun? Far too shallow an act. In the end it’s the doing of a low, commoner-born wretch—coveting a bit of pocket money, you stole the treasured blade and left the evidence behind…”
“As I keep saying, will you hear us out!”
It’s rare for my mild-mannered, courteous brother to raise his voice. Well, I’m quite irritated too. But there’s no point trading words with this man here. Because—
“Fraser nii-san, talking is a waste. The conclusion came first, and they’ve prepared the scenario and the evidence both. Words change nothing. The groundwork’s long done, and the sentence itself was surely settled from the start.”
“Ho,” Orgren nodded, as if impressed.
“Well, resent your having a brother who can’t read the times, siding with the Crown Prince and all, Ephthal-kun.”
Yes, they’re conducting this on a foregone conclusion, gone so far as to fabricate evidence. Naturally, whatever’s said is beyond doubt a waste.
“I see. So you don’t even mean to hide that it’s a false charge.”
“As you gather, it’s already decided within the court… fufu, no, that was rather a slip of the tongue, wasn’t it?”
Then the inquisitor cleared his throat, and, with a coarse grin, leaned back on the drawing-room sofa and crossed his legs.
“Now then, a message from the noble council. The last chance for your brother’s crime to be overturned, you’ll lend an ear?”
“…If it’s only talk, I’ll hear it.”
“In short, change sides. It’s said the former Duke Alcott and His Highness the King’s Brother were sworn friends beyond mere lord and vassal, and congenial companions besides, so there’s no reason you two can’t come to an understanding.”
Right, for the moment, it’s settled that the King’s Brother is no good at all. Seeing as he’s the congenial companion of that man.
“You may take it that within the court the King’s Brother’s banner already flies. It’s no exaggeration now to call the duke’s a lone, embattled stand.”
“…And?”
“Shall we have done with the stubbornness about here? If you, young yet well-liked, change sides, the last scattering of the twisted holdouts will switch over to us in a body as well.”
“…In that case, what becomes of the Crown Prince? He’s still a child, you know?”
“The thoughts of the exalted are beyond a lowly sort like me, but… well, it’ll be this, I’d say.”
The inquisitor held up one finger and, playing the fool, made a throat-cutting motion.
“The son of the late king is, by his very existence, a bomb that breeds strife. His Highness the King’s Brother has mercy too, against a child he’ll not bother with torture, and do it clean in one stroke, I should think… so rest easy on that.”
Then the inquisitor smirked and held up three fingers.
“I’ll grant you three days’ grace. Convert your allegiance and Ephthal-kun too goes free and clear. If not…”
“If not?”
“Then, by the court’s will, every manner of calamity will rain down on House Alcott. Its reach: your family, your kin and retainers, and your people. The fangs it bares choose no target… well, cool your heads and think what profits you.”
Then the baron rose, and, waving a hand behind him, said:
“Ah, yes. Should you switch sides, when His Highness the King’s Brother is crowned you’ll be stripped of your title all the same, as one of the forces that resisted to the last. Shall you be a gardener at my house, as a commoner? A most rare thing, a former duke for a gardener… fufu, splendid! For so precious a talent I’ll pay you double the other gardeners’ wage, hahaha! Ahahaha!”
And, laughing, the baron took his leave.
⁂
That night—
Having called Merlin to my room, I was gazing at the moon.
“Honestly… neither of us is blessed in our descendants, are we, Arvine.”
A lord I once served, a friend I once had, and one of the few benevolent rulers I’ve judged worthy of my respect. Quick to tears, somehow unreliable, deep in mercy, and yet a man who did what had to be done when the time came. Laying his troubled profile, the one he always showed me, over the moon, I sipped my tea.
“Ephthal-sama? What did you call me for?”
Seating the Merlin who entered with a knock on the sofa, I poured her tea. As she made to rise—the chores are mine—I stayed her with a palm, and, grudgingly, she settled onto the sofa.
“Merlin. There’s a thing I want to ask of you… no, of all of you.”
“Something to entrust to me? If it’s within my power, command me as you will.”
“Thank you. First, let me lay out the situation—”
As I told it, thus and so, Merlin’s expression dyed by degrees with exasperation and anger.
“I see. I have the picture.”
“So, I no longer think the court can be set right by ordinary means.”
“A noble inquisitor… private use of a part of the judiciary. Whatever measure one took, it’s too late in the day, as you say.”
“So it’s rough medicine… to put it plainly, a thorough house-cleaning.”
At the words house-cleaning, Merlin’s ears gave a twitch.
“Merlin, and… with the two of you, you and Svetlana, it should be possible.”
The instant Svetlana’s name came up Merlin made a sour face for a moment, then at once turned it to something bright and glad.
“Not me alone, but me and Svetlana, is it?”
“Aye, that’s how it is.”
“Let me confirm. That is an order to crush a nation flat, is that right?”
“I told you, didn’t I. A house-cleaning.”
“I see,” Merlin said, and broke into a delighted grin.
“You’re finally coming to sound like yourself again, Ephthal-sama.”
“The situation being what it is. And there’s the promise from a past life, to protect this nation.”
“The benevolent ruler… King Arvine?”
“In any case, we do it the day after tomorrow. At the noble council, they’ll make a spectacle of me and denounce Fraser nii-san, the Duke Alcott. There, the two of you… well, I leave the method to you.”
“And… what will you do, Ephthal-sama?”
“Go and cut out the cancer at its root. Crush that, or it’s round and round in circles forever.”
“There’s said to be the War-Maiden of Aegis… a guardian, at the tribe’s stronghold?”
“That’s part of the house-cleaning too.”
“…I see. Understood.”
And there the ducal mansion suddenly went loud. The clatter of running feet, and raised voices from here and there.
“His Grace the Duke… where is His Grace?! The tribe… in our lands… the tribe have appeared!”
As I made in haste for my brother, another shout reached me.
“Word from the harem! Miss Cecilia, captain of the Royal Guard, was set upon by persons unknown and wounded!”
Trembling… my body shook. From the pit of my belly, something black beyond any likeness rose as a dragon into my head.
—Enough already, you rotten filth.
And to me, gone silent, Merlin spoke.
“Before the ducal house gives its answer… they’ve thrown a scare our way, it seems.”
I nodded at Merlin’s words. I’d considered leaving the King’s Brother alive, but no more. Exiled once and still not chastened, back on his feet, rotted this far, there’s no treatment but to cut it out at the root. And so we made for Fraser’s room.
⁂
“This is… a larger number than I’d reckoned.”
Merlin knit her brows over the map. Reports from every quarter were coming into the ducal study one after another, and in small villages across the domain the tribe’s pillaging had begun.
“What do you mean to do, Duke Alcott?”
At Merlin’s words Fraser wore a face like a man biting a bitter bug.
“The mage corps the ducal house once prided itself on is gone now, and our own hands are few. Against the tribe on this scale… subduing all of it will be difficult.”
“The ducal house’s situation, understood. So, three villages are under attack, correct?”
“Yes. Leave them and the damage grows worse and worse. We must act quickly, but… still, our hands are few…”
And there a rough, hammering knock rang through the study.
“Another word of a tribe raid?!”
My worn-out brother, but his face eased at the person who entered.
“Principal… Moria?”
“Former principal, mind.”
“But why are you here?”
“There’s a fellow named Angus down south, well, an old subordinate of mine, posted now at a border fort. He confirmed the tribe on the march and came to me with his own troops. I hustled over here, and sure enough…”
“Er, I don’t follow?”
Snatching it up, Moria took the map Merlin and Fraser had been studying.
“The eastern village, Angus and I take.”
“No, but you can’t just use border soldiers on your own say-so?!”
“The nation’s a mess right now. Reading the convenience and the moods of the high-and-mighty while the people suffer, what kind of a knight-commander is that?! Former, mind.”
Unchanged, I thought, and gave Moria a wry smile.
“In any case, Ephthal seems to be here too, so it’ll work out somehow! North and west you handle yourself, Fraser!”
And as Moria made to leave, Merlin called to his back.
“Wait, Moria, or whatever your name is.”
“The hell’s with this lady?”
“Alone, there are things you can and can’t do. Struggle single-handed as you like, the fort’s soldiers alone likely won’t subdue the tribe. Anastasia, Maria, you two, go with him!”
Thrown into it suddenly, the two froze an instant, then gave great nods at once.
“You want me hauling two brats along?”
“Their strength I’ll vouch for. Magic included, they’ll serve well enough as your right arm.”
Merlin had seen through Moria’s caliber in an instant, it seemed. Well, the same as my own read.
“I said brats are dead weight, didn’t I?”
“I vouch for them, so I say.”
The two glared a while, and when Merlin let out a pulse of magic power, Moria nodded at once.
“I see, there’s a monster in this house besides Ephthal. Right, I’m taking you along, so get ready, chicks!”
“Chicks…? However much older you are, ordering us around out of the blue is a bit much, don’t you think?”
At Maria’s words Principal Moria broke into a grin and, delighted, began roughly ruffling her head.
“Ha, I don’t dislike a mouthy firecracker!”
And Moria left through the door with Anastasia and Maria.
“…An unlooked-for reinforcement, that.”
“So, Duke Alcott. The remaining two?”
Just then Mother, who’d been turning worried eyes our way, wore a fragile little smile.
“Lead all the ducal house’s hands and go to the rescue, Fraser-san.”
“No, but then the men to guard this mansion… you’d be in danger…”
“It’s all right. You are a duke before you are my husband. You have a duty to protect the people’s safety.”
“But Ephthal is here. The enemy has numbers… there’ll be harm to the people, but victory itself is a settled thing, you know?”
“Because Ephthal-chan is here, we win? What do you mean?”
Fraser turned my way with a face that said I’ve said something I oughtn’t. Well, said is said, no help for it. He’d surely never imagined my own mother didn’t know, and there was no ill will in it. I gave a small nod, and Fraser nodded too.
“Ilya-san, hear this without alarm, would you? Your son is… the strongest fifteen-year-old in the world.”
Leaving Mother blinking, blank, I gave Merlin her orders.
“The west, best left to Fraser leading every hand the ducal house has.”
“But the Duke Alcott is lame in one leg from a wound, isn’t he?”
“Sheryl, go as Fraser’s guard.”
“…Mm. Understood, Ephthal.”
That settles east and west. Now the northern village, and the guard of this mansion, but—
“Say, Merlin?”
“Yes, Ephthal-sama.”
“I’ll go raise hell in the north. You stay here… I’m counting on you, Merlin. She’s precious to me. Keep her safe.”
“…As you command. I’ll not let a single finger touch this lady, whoever they be.”
“Ephthal? To guard Ilya-san, no, this whole mansion, from the tribe alone… that’s reckless, surely?”
At that, Merlin spoke to Fraser and Mother.
“You may rest easy, Duke Alcott. Once I’ve said I’ll protect, I protect without fail. Keep your word, that was the very first teaching of my master.”
“…You mean to say you’re a considerable adept?”
“When I went east on a warrior’s pilgrimage, I was even called the Thunder God Emperor. Well, to bear the same title as my master was too great an honor, so I had a ‘Lesser’ tacked on.”
“The Lesser Thunder God Emperor… no, I’ve heard of that. Her signature was, I think… a fierce barrage at Level 7…”
“Here in the West some call me the Thunder God of Flashing Chains. Well, that’s from the great war of a hundred years past.”
“Merlin… don’t tell me you’re…?”
“Aye. The first and foremost disciple of your ancestor, the first Thunder God Emperor.”
Mother seemed not to have grasped the circumstances at all, but Fraser, by the look in his eyes, was starting, dimly, to piece together his brother’s situation.
“Ephthal? For the hero of the demon race to serve you… you… and that air about you…”
And there I stayed Fraser’s words with a hand.
“Brother and younger brother, mother and son, that’s enough, isn’t it?”
At the words Fraser thought something over, then shrugged, exasperated.
“Yes, best not to ask further. Ask, and we might not be able to remain brothers.”
“Aye, that’s fine.”
Now then, and I cracked my knuckles and made for the door.
“Ephthal-sama? Where to?”
“As I said, the north. And along the way I’ll head for the capital and carry off Cecilia. Once I’ve sent her somewhere safe, the tribe’s stronghold, the Valley of Death.”
“I see. The old Duke Alcott style, is it… then leave the rear chores to me.”
“Aye, I’m counting on you.”
From long ago, when rough business broke out at the ducal house, it was always this way. I charge in solo, wreck the place to ruin, and after that, Bridget and the aides run about tidying up whatever’s left. Slam a Level 10 in at the outset to decide the whole thing, and the mopping-up, the post-battle bargaining, the wringing of reparations, all of it: I rage, I tear through. And the tedious remainder… I dump wholesale on someone I trust.
“Right, a good thorough house-cleaning of the nation, all at once… let’s have at it.”
Merlin’s Perspective
The royal capital.
Two days on, the Duke Alcott and I were summoned to the capital’s council. As for the villages, the moment the Duke Alcott and Moria reached them they drove the tribe back, and the harm was held to the least. As for Anastasia and Maria, “These two are something else; lend them to me a year and I’ll train them up!” Moria snorted with eagerness, but by the pair’s own firm will it seems they declined.
“I will absolutely never study under you!”
“Ha, I really don’t dislike a firecracker! How about becoming my daughter-by-adoption?”
“Absolutely not!”
By the time they returned to the ducal mansion, it had come to you and you. They’d struck up an oddly good rapport, and I half thought she really ought to take him as a master, but…
As for Miss Cecilia, Ephthal-sama plucked her from the capital, and she’s sheltered now at the ducal mansion. Wounded in the assault, she was in a state where she might be taken hostage at any moment. There was no leaving her alone in a harem where no one knew where the enemy lurked… a sound judgment.
But that aside, the capital’s council. Within, the impression was of a magic-university group lecture hall enlarged, a circular tiered classroom, one might say. The Duke Alcott and I stood at the center, and over a hundred nobles looked down at us from desks ranged up the steps.
—Well, a public execution by rhetoric is on the program, I’d say.
Beginning with Ephthal-sama’s false charge, every manner of quibble is to be piled on from here, so the scenario seems already settled.
“For a noble’s son to desert before the enemy, worse, to cut down his superior, is unheard of!”
“House Alcott, ringleader of the late upheaval, we ought to have stripped the title after all!”
“…”
That Fraser says nothing is as we arranged. If they mean to force it through by the court’s viper’s-way, then whatever’s said is a waste; words are needless. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, then I’ll force through Ephthal-sama’s way.
“I’d have you wait! I am Merlin, direct disciple of the first Thunder God Emperor. By the compact with my master four hundred years past, I would guard House Alcott!”
No, there’s no such compact, but a bluff has its uses. In any case, the position of hero of the demon race, which usually only stiffens my shoulders, is fairly useful in a place like this. In proof, the whole assembly has fallen dead silent. And there, without delay, I snapped my fingers. Then Deputy Captain Angus, whom we’d met at the fort, appeared in the council chamber.
“In the fighting against the tribe at the fort, the boy Ephthal acted together with this Deputy Captain Angus, is the story.”
At the words Angus gave a great nod.
“I’m told the boy Ephthal cut down Captain Orgren, it is groundless! He fought bravely, I testify, as one who was on that battlefield!”
Still deeper the hush, but—
“Is this Deputy Captain Angus a noble?”
“No, I’m of common birth, but…”
At the answer, sneers leaked out here and there in the chamber, and the nobles began to speak up, each in turn.
“Which are we to believe, a baron’s word or a commoner’s? Merlin-sama asks the unreasonable.”
“To summon a commoner to a noble council is beyond common sense, is it not?”
“There’s physical evidence, they say, now, at this late hour, to be told a thing by a commoner’s word…”
Looks of contempt were sent Angus’s way, but this too is as expected. Among these people it’s settled that they’ll use the chance to strip the Crown-Prince-faction House Alcott of its say. There’s even a line to be supposed where the title itself is stripped here, as scripted. Yes, to these people fact is a matter of no importance, and we’ve not the least intention of humoring it.
“Still, for one playing at defense counsel, isn’t this a touch clumsy, Merlin-sama?”
Seated as witness facing me, Orgren smirked.
“You, what have you mistaken?”
“Hm? Mistaken?”
“What talk is this of defense counsel?”
“No, you appeared in this place to protect the Duke Alcott, descendant of your old master, did you not?”
“Aye, I am here to guard House Alcott, true enough.”
“So it’s to make a defense, isn’t it?”
Now then, about here’s the turn of the tide.
—From here I’ll do it in Ephthal-sama’s way.
“I said I would guard, not defend. And what guarding needs is not eloquence, but—force!”
“What are you saying, you?”
Turning my palm to the ceiling, I smirked.
“The nobility of this nation seem poorly ventilated. Shall I air the council chamber out a little, at least? Level 8: Thor Hammer!”
KRA-KOOOM!
A thunderous roar, and the ceiling, blasted by the lightning strike, came crashing down. Fragments of the building scattered down toward the nobles—
“Hiiii!”
“L-lightning?!”
“The ceiling, the ceiling’s coming dowwwn!”
The nobles screamed. In their midst I loosed Level 6 wind magic and shoved the falling debris back up toward the sky. Well, killing them isn’t the aim.
“Now then, a great hole in the ceiling, and the ventilation’s improved, it seems.”
“Y-you, you! Do you understand what you’re doing?! Hero of the demon race or no… to destroy the capital’s council chamber… have you come to declare war on this nation?!”
Orgren glared at me and went on.
“You mean to pick a fight with a nation? However rare the strength you hold as an individual—”
“If you want a fight with me, shall we have one?”
“—yes, to pick a fight, one against a nation, is a thing impossible at the root… wait, what did you just say?”
“Shall we have one, I said.”
Orgren’s eyes flung wide, struck dumb, cold sweat on his face. And the assembled lords, hearing my words, fell silent, and the chamber was wrapped again in stillness.
“It seems you’ve finally grasped that I’m in earnest.”
“Th-this is… beyond sane.”
And there Orgren, as if he’d caught on to something, smirked.
“But hero of the demon race though you are, you’ve the entanglements of demon society, surely? Now head of a prestigious school… and the title promised you in time, the pinnacle for a mage, one of the Four Emperors. You don’t wish to throw away the road of advancement, do you? What you’re doing now is a grave matter of foreign relations!”
“Well, entanglements I won’t deny. I am, for all that, the most senior of the Ephthal school.”
“But—” I declared, sharp and flat.
“My standing in the present magical society… means nothing to me. What worth is there in a Four Emperors’ title won by political struggle? Unluckily, I know the real thing. Not one whit of my heart is drawn to the present-day counterfeits.”
“Then you truly are…?”
I gave a great nod. And, so all in the chamber could hear, I called out, loud and long.
“If you’ve complaint against House Alcott, say it to me! If it’s a fight you want, I’ll take it up in their stead!”
Dead stillness, deeper yet. Not the rustle of cloth, not even the sound of a person breathing. From the very start, behind the scenes, these people know which side holds legitimacy. And they know, too, why my anger stands bared. Now then, about here, the finishing blow. And with this, the King’s Brother’s whole strategy of ensnaring the nobles comes to nothing.
“Svetlana!”
When I looked up through the hole in the ceiling at the sky, the nobles too looked up as one. What showed there was an overwhelming mass shining jade and silver.
—The figure of the Dragon Princess. Reigning over the great sky, a colossal dragon.
“Th-the… the Dragon Princess Svetlana?!”
“Wh-why is such a thing in the capital’s sky…?!”
“Svetlana and our nation are in alliance… surely!”
The whole assembly’s color went to a single hue of terror. Svetlana lowered her altitude and, forming a human shape amid light, came down from the sky into the center of the chamber. Then, turning once about and sweeping her eyes over the chamber, she laughed a low, mocking laugh at the nobles.
“By nature Big Sis is stronger in human form. Well, the greater or lesser of an overpowering one’s strength is beyond the likes of you to tell, I suppose.”
Then Svetlana set her rear on a desk and gave a yawn.
“In any case, to you who understand nothing, the lizard shape looks the more fearsome, truly absurd. Now then, boy over there?”
To Orgren, with a look of contempt, Svetlana spoke.
“You do understand why Big Sis and the others are angry, don’t you? Spare me the excuses and pull your hands off House Alcott.”
“The hero of the demon race Merlin, and the Dragon Princess Svetlana… two deeply bound to the Thunder God Emperor… to have dragged out figures this great, Duke Alcott. But, Svetlana-sama? By the old compact you and we are in alliance, an equal relationship. Meddling in domestic affairs is uncalled for, this is interference in internal matters.”
“Fufu, fufu, fufufu! Ahaha! Hahahaha!”
And Svetlana began to laugh, clutching her belly.
“A human… equal to me, you say? If you’ve mistaken it, I’ll correct you. This is a command, backed by force. Four hundred years ago might be another matter, but a human nation cannot be a threat to the blood of the Dragon Emperor.”
Svetlana snapped her fingers, and just above Orgren’s head an explosion went off. No, not Orgren’s alone, but above the heads of every noble in the chamber.
“Hii!”
“You do understand, I trust, next I put it dead in the center of the skull. I don’t recommend it; I’ve no wish to see a great blooming rose-garden of filthy brains and blood.”
“B-b-but from four hundred years ago you and we are bound by treaty—”
“The alliance Big Sis made with you in the past was a personal promise struck not with the nation, but with House Alcott.”
“Wh—?! That’s sophistry! The treaty does read so, but it must be an alliance with House Alcott—and, thereby, with the royalty who hold House Alcott in their power—with this nation!”
“Do be quiet. From the start Ephthal-sama never became the underling of this nation’s king. Four hundred years ago, at this nation’s king’s entreaty, he merely came to reside here.”
“B-but—”
And Svetlana rose, spread both arms, and turned once about on the spot.
“Oh my, the medicine still seems short. Then this time, not just the ceiling as Merlin-chan did, shall I blow the whole of this place, you lot and all, sky-high?”
At the words the nobles’ faces froze over. And toward Orgren—stop answering back!—pens and inkpots came flying from every side at once.
“Stop, stop it! Stop it, everyone, please!”
“My, my, a falling-out among friends? Fufu, it’s amusing, do carry on.”
Watching it merrily, after a while Svetlana abruptly went straight-faced, as if the interest had drained out of her. And then—
“Feeble, flabby, spineless, wispy, frail, poor… and at the last, a falling-out among friends. Ah, truly, weak humans are a dull sort of creature. Then at least, know it. Cease being fools. Yes, what you should know is—”
Throwing out her chest, with a challenging air she went on.
“—The Thunder God’s protection is not with the nation. It is with House Alcott… that, and only that.”
And, as if to say this is the end, Svetlana clapped her palms together.
“Well, in short, there’s just one thing I want to say. In short, if it’s a fight—”
Svetlana looked my way, so I’ll answer this eye-signal, no help for it.
“—this Merlin and Svetlana… we’ll take it up any time.”
Then, to Orgren, I put the final question.
“So, Orgren? Any complaint left in you?”
“N-n-nothing whatever!”
Backside gone to jelly, he sat down hard on the floor, and on all fours Orgren began fleeing for the doorway. And there Svetlana smiled and, with the eyes of a lion hunting a rabbit, went slowly after the baron.
“Mm, a good answer. An honest boy is to Big Sis’s taste. But… I’m not so fond of villains, hm?”
She trod on Orgren’s hand, and the crunch of pulverized bone rang out.
“Big Sis has been doing a little investigating, you see. There were plenty who talked entertainingly at the breaking of just two or three fingers. Isn’t that so, boy? You were up to all sorts, it seems, but if you’re going to keep hirelings, you should keep ones who can hold their tongues.”
And I set the documents I’d prepared beforehand on the dais.
“The flow of bribes, the threats and violence against Crown-Prince-faction nobles, and the whole account of the tribe being ushered into the domain, the evidence, you see, is already assembled. Oh? Many of you gentlemen seem to have gone pale on hearing that; has something happened?”
Well, for lack of time only a few cases were gathered, and this too is a bluff. In any case, dig from here and it’ll come out endlessly.
“Er, Fraser-chan… is that right?”
“Y-yes…”
“Fufu, cute. A little like that person, perhaps? But you, you look a touch too gentle. To stand above others, gentle alone won’t do. Because, when Big Sis does a garbage-clearing, she does it thoroughly… so Ephthal-sama taught me.”
Svetlana clapped the Duke Alcott on the shoulder.
“Now, Fraser-chan? Big Sis takes all responsibility. Full authority over this nation’s judiciary, I, with my personal force behind me, knowing full well it’s interference in internal affairs, grant to you on my own say-so.”
And Svetlana smiled brightly and said it.
“The nation’s house-cleaning, it’s yours to handle.”
Ephthal’s Perspective
—Racing across the gravel wastes.
—Through the Valley of Death, on toward the tribe’s stronghold.
The wilderness wind on my cheek, and I caught it: a faint charge of lightning off the quarter of the capital. About now, things’ll be under way over there too.
Anyway, the ringleader is going to pay in full for the contempt they’ve shown me. But first—
“…The tribe’s guardian god, is it.”
Ahead on the path, at maybe twenty meters, stood a chimera that looked nothing like any war-maiden. The War-Maiden of Aegis exists, in truth, not to protect the tribe but to guard an ancient ruin uncovered three hundred years back.
By the look of it, five meters tall or so. A giant’s torso, a griffin’s wings, and the lower half… a horse? And crowning that great body, from the neck up, sat the upper half of a slim, pale-faced woman.
In a word, an ugly piece of work.
“Some breed of magitech bio-weapon, I’d guess.”
Strip it down: a giant centaur grown wings, the human part a woman. And what it holds is no bow. A sword and a shield, that shield being where the name Aegis comes from.
“Level 10: Thunder God Emperor Ephthal!”
A full-power strike to open. I’d known from the start this thing would be waiting, so the spell-work was built and ready long ago. A full blast, half to gauge what that great shield could do, and, as I’d figured, the lightning that landed dead-on scattered to nothing.
“Not going to be a walkover, then.”
There’s variance among the guardians. But not one of them is a half-measure, and even four hundred years back they gave me real trouble. There’s a doubt in me whether I can break through alone, without the Ice God Emperor.
Still, no damage from a Level 10. I’d faintly hoped a little might get through; the magic resistance is beyond belief, as ever. Well, Aegis by name, and a guarding power that doesn’t shame it.
For now, judging that magic won’t crack the shield’s defense, I moved to my next attack. Not leaping up, but bounding level, like a flat stone skipped across a river, and closed the distance in one go.
—CLANG!
A shrieking clang, and my kick burst against the shield. As its frame buckled I swung my right leg high in the air. Axe-kick style, I dropped the heel onto the upper rim of the shield and rode the rebound up. The kick knocked the shield from the war-maiden’s grip, and, still airborne, I set my sword high, aimed down at it below.
—Got it.
Falling with gravity, driving the cut down, and yet, I thought.
Slower than I’d expect, this thing. The magic resistance that shrugged off a long-range Level 10 had me impressed, sure. But at close range, at this level of strength, how did it drive off a large human subjugation force, weakened as those armies were? This sluggishness, this opening all but begging to be struck, like I’m being lured in…?
There, I triggered wind magic and flung myself back in an emergency dodge.
“You have got to be joking!”
No good, that was bad. This isn’t a thing you dodge by trying to. Might’ve been the right call to take the trade and drive the cut home after all. Because—
—from all over the War-Maiden of Aegis’s body, countless metal gun-barrels bristled out like a porcupine’s quills.
“Anything goes, does it, ancient civilization!”
Well, the ancient magic civilization ran a hybrid of science and sorcery. An attack like this might not be impossible after all. In any case, how do I dodge an all-directions barrage?
—Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat.
From the mouth, from the shoulders, the back, the belly, the wings, the horse’s barrel. From more gun-barrels than I could count, rounds fired off in every direction faster than sound.
“Level 8: Material Guard!”
Gathering the iron-sand in the earth, I threw up a wall of iron in an instant. Magic defense only ever works against magic. But this Material Guard is a wall of pure physics in the plainest sense.
“—?!”
Krak-krak, krak-krak-krak, krak-krak-krak!
A wall of iron ten centimeters thick, ground down bit by bit under the sheer brute number of rounds.
“Level 8: Material Guard!”
I hurried a second wall over the first, but an instant before it set, rounds that had bored through caught me. Two in the shoulder, one in the thigh, near enough.
“Level 10: Perfect Heal.”
I clicked my tongue. The flesh didn’t knit at once; the healing came slow. Some strong curse laid into the rounds, it seemed, resisting the holy power of the recovery magic.
There, the sound of rounds grinding the wall stopped.
“Out of ammo?”
With no resupply out here, that’d mean losing a whole weapon outright, for it. So I can stop worrying about the all-directions fire, no. Wrong. Temporary, maybe, but by the nature of a thing like this as a weapon, no way it’s spent for good.
I put my face out from the side of the wall and took a glance. Sure enough, the thing was picking iron-sand from the dirt too, absorbing it, refilling its rounds. Looked to be running something close to Material Guard itself. No idle boast, a solo autonomous weapon built to run without maintenance; scrounging resupply on the spot is second nature to it.
“But I’m not giving you the time!”
An all-directions barrage I can’t easily heal from isn’t a thing to eat twice. And I’ve no intention of eating it twice. My opponent’s a living weapon built to resupply itself; my recovery magic works poorly, and dragged into a war of attrition I’m at a certain disadvantage. A long fight’s a fool’s move too.
—So I settle it here.
I strengthened my body to the limit. If the enemy’s a monster of magic resistance, then I’ve no choice but to write my answer in the language of the flesh.
Another level bound, another flying kick.
—CLANG!
A shrieking clang, my kick bursting against the shield. To go into an axe-kick from here is a repeat of before. —So what do I do?
Using the rebound off the shield-kick, I sprang backward and swept the blade level in a single stroke.
“Level 7: Magic Sword—Sword of Möbius!”
Space manipulation and wind magic, making a blade of wind appear all at once at a target a short way off and cut it to ribbons: Level 9 magic, Dimension Edge. This is a minor variant that lowers that spell’s difficulty. Put plainly, a magic sword that bends space to send the blade’s edge itself to a spot a short distance off. A technique I picked up recently, and the highest-difficulty magic sword I can manage as I am now.
The war-maiden boasts absolute magic resistance thanks to the shield. So, an attack that passes clean through the shield?
“Now, how’s this!”
The instant I touched down, the war-maiden tipped its massive frame, and with a heavy, grinding crash the great body toppled to the ground.
“Stronger than I bargained for, though.”
Without the power of the magic sword, whether I’d have broken through is an honestly doubtful thing, I’ve got to admit.
—The Fire God Emperor, Sasha, Svetlana, and the guardian of a relic left by the ancient civilization. Looking at this weakened present-day world, Sasha aside, honestly, I’d figured Merlin was about the only real article left. There was a time I wondered whether, even at my strongest, there’d be nowhere left to swing that strength. But that worry looks like it’ll come to nothing.
The pain in my shoulder and thigh, unhealed even by Perfect Heal, feeling something almost like comfort in it, I set off walking through the Valley of Death.
⁂
A scream, near enough, rang through the tribe’s cave.
“What the, who are you?! Appearing out of nowhere… and that sword… do you know whose room this is?!”
To the King’s Brother, backing away, I stepped in and closed the gap.
“S-stay back! You, do you know I’m of the royal blood?!”
“Royal blood? What nonsense is that?”
“Not the tribe’s royalty, the royalty of a whole nation!”
“And what world has a royal who runs riot through his own country, thick as thieves with the foreign tribe?!”
I drove a kick into his gut, and with a “Gwheh!” the King’s Brother crumpled where he stood. Then the door from the next room opened and four armed tribesmen came flying at me.
“Y-y-you bastaaard! At him, at him, cut him down! Kill him! Kill him! Tear him to pieces!”
The first to leap, an overhead blow down onto his skull.
—Fwoosh.
His head split, and as he dropped, blood and brains spilled to the floor. On, a one-handed level sweep of the blade. On again, my left fist into a tribesman’s cheek. Bone cracked, the fist sank in, the eyeball forced out like a ping-pong ball.
“Ah… ah…”
Three gone to corpses in a blink, and the last tribesman turned tail, showing his back to bolt for the room he’d come from.
“Showing your back on a battlefield, that’s no good.”
A Level 4 wind spell; I loosed a blade of vacuum. The next instant the tribesman’s head parted ways with his body, and a fourth corpse took shape in the room.
“That the end of it?”
The moment I asked, the King’s Brother laughed. “Hahaha!”
“You fool!”
“You’re the fool.”
I’d known there was a tribesman stuck up on the ceiling, using the confusion. I thrust my sword straight up, and it ran through the body of the tribesman dropping toward me, hatchet raised.
“Wh-wh-wh-whaaaa?!”
The King’s Brother’s legs gave out; he sat down hard, and yet threw his voice up in false bravado.
“Quite the swordsman, but you can’t beat the tribe king! His room’s near here. He’ll catch the noise in no time, and you—”
“The tribe king, you mean the owner of this?” I drew the spoils from my coat, a magic-crystal bracelet, and held it up. “Had some rare magic gear on him, so I borrowed it a while.”
The King’s Brother’s eyes flew wide—
“Wh-wh-wh-whaaa?! Y-you! To do this to royalty—!”
“Like I said, there’s no such thing as royalty that runs riot through its own country!”
I grabbed him by the collar and cocked my right fist back.
“Gbgyahpaaaah!!”
—Crunch. My fist sank into his nose. He blew back in grand style, rolling and tumbling to the far end of the room.
“A-a-agh! G-g-g… gooogh!”
Then the King’s Brother’s eye lit with glee at the gong hung on the wall.
“Y-you, you’re finished! The tribe run deep in loyalty to their king, and you’ve gone and killed the tribe king! You sneaked in this far well enough, but the sound of this gong will bring the whole guard swarming down on us!”
He took up the great beater set beside it and hammered the gong with all his strength.
—GONG.
—GONG.
—GONG.
—GONG.
Well, it just echoes, and to no purpose. The ones the gong should reach aren’t here anymore. Every last one set out for the land of the dead already.
“Why? Why does no one come?! Damn it, guards! Someone, is there no one?!”
The King’s Brother got up and, nearly tripping over himself again and again in his panic, made for the doorway. And the moment he threw the door open—
“Kah, kah, kah, kaaaaaaaaaaaah!”
He loosed a weird shriek at the heap of guard-corpses strewn along the passage.
“And, well. That’s how it is.”
Slow, I advanced on the King’s Brother.
“H-h-hiiii, stay away! Don’t come! Stay back!”
A pebble off the floor came flying my way, so, a single whistling stroke of the blade, and it split clean in two.
“A sore loser to the very last, this is the picture of it.”
“Th-the guardian?! Why is there an intruder here who isn’t of the tribe?!”
“Took whatever looked useful off the guardian’s body. That carcass is a parade of magic tools you can’t even make anymore, these days.”
Mouth gaping like he couldn’t believe it, the King’s Brother clapped his hands over his ears.
“There’s no way, no way a thing like that happens! Impossible, it’s a dream… yes, this is a dream, Agyu!”
A kick into his flank. Frothing blood-flecked foam, the King’s Brother writhed on the spot.
“Sorry to say, but there are the men who died because of you to think of. I’ve no mind to send you off dreaming.”
The fort’s guards, Angus’s men, there’s them, too. Unless I make the King’s Brother understand his own crime and the pain he dealt others, there are far too many who’d never rest.
“S-s-sp-sp… spare… p-p-plea… spare me… I-I’m… roy… roy…alty…!”
And with a feeling I couldn’t name, I set my blade.
“Four hundred years back, your ancestor was a benevolent ruler. A man who’d take the lead and till the fields alongside the farmers, for the country’s sake.”
I fixed the sword’s aim on his neck. This is about enough, now.
“A man who, when his own brother did wrong, wept as he passed sentence, because there’d be no keeping face before the people otherwise. I fell for that man, and came in under him. Yeah, not the title of king. It was the man, Arvine, I fell for.”
And then, the whistle of the cut.
At once the head parted smoothly, dropped, and rolled to the ground.
I wiped the blood from the blade with oiled paper and sheathed it.
“Still, having a poor descendant is a hardship, for us both. Eh, Arvine.”
And I let out a long, heavy breath.