Chapter 6 - Double Ingenuity
It was the day after the banquet.
A gloomy vibe hung over the entire office.
The source of it all was Wein, who was splayed out on his desk, oozing misery. To his side was Ninym, whose face was plastered with a pained look.
“…Hey, Ninym,” he called out, face firmly planted on his desk.
“Yes?”
“Hear me out. Let’s say, for example, that the son of an aristocrat from the country next door was beckoned to our kingdom by a letter that’s super suspect.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And that he died there.”
“Uh-huh.”
“How would it look to everyone else?”
Ninym paused for a beat. “Like he was assassinated. Without question.”
“I KNEW IIIIIIIIIIIIIT!” Wein howled, snapping his head up and banging his hands against his desk.
“Like, come on! Why?! Why’d you have to die, Geralt?! You get all riled up with envy and challenge me to a sword fight—that you have no chance of winning, at that! And then you try to take out your anger on me for losing—by launching a friggin’ surprise attack! But that somehow leads to you fall out of a window…and snap your neck? You—you’re impossible! Come oooooon!”
“He really just up and died, huh…”
“And I’m probably next! Our plan didn’t just fall through—it’s in smithereens! At this rate, we’ll probably be at war with Antgadull, not to mention the Empire!”
Which made sense, since Geralt had been the child of Marquis Antgadull, a well-known household in the Empire—honest-to-goodness nobility.
Considering how Geralt had died in a foreign country that had requested his presence, the two forces had more than enough justification to invade them.
“Oh, why… Why did it turn out this way…? I just wanted to butter him up and get him to go home with Lowellmina…” Wein moaned to himself, as if casting a curse, and buried his face in his hands.
Even Ninym sympathized. How could they have predicted the tables would turn?
But they couldn’t leave the situation as is.
“I promise to listen to your rants when this is over. But right now, we have to switch gears. Let’s think of a plan from here on out,” she reasoned with him.
“Guuurgh…” He let out a loud grunt like a wandering spirit before pulling himself out of his melancholy look. “—First things first. I don’t think the Empire will make a move anytime soon.”
“Agreed. Right now, they’re divided into the three factions in the fight for the throne. They don’t have the leeway to invade Natra immediately.”
“Then there’s Marquis Antgadull… Have we secured the servants that accompanied Geralt?”
“Secured and placed under house arrest, for the most part. But we’re missing two of them. According to the testimonies of the other servants, those two were new hires.”
“Quick on their feet for servants of that moron…”
“Do you think news of his death will promptly reach his father?”
“The odds are high. Plus, Lowellmina’s envoys are eyewitnesses. They’ll want to report his death back to the homeland. And it’s not like we can place them under house arrest, too. Which means Marquis Antgadull will hear about it sooner or later. But,” Wein went on, “he won’t act right away after he finds out. I’m gonna bet he’ll waste time thinking, debating, fretting over the motives of his son’s assassination.”
“And he’d never guess that it was an accidental death. Not in a million years.”
“Yeah, no shit! Me neither! AAAAAAAAAAA,” Wein wailed.
Ninym attempted to pacify him. “There, there. Relax. We’ve got to take action before then.”
“You’re right…” Wein heaved a huge sigh. “My thoughts, Lowa’s thoughts, Antgadull’s thoughts, and everything in between… It’s all a jumbled mess right now. Whoever takes the initiative will gain a huge advantage. In other words, the playing field is even…!”
“More like we’re all backed into a tight corner.”
“Shut it! Don’t be all doom and gloom. I know hindsight is twenty-twenty. But if I stay in the lead, I’ve got a good shot making those conspirators sorry… I think…!”
A knock came at the door of the office. The official in charge of hosting the Imperial delegation appeared in front of them.
“Pardon me, Your Highness. Princess Lowellmina has just requested an emergency meeting.”
HGWAAAAAAAAAAA?! Wein was about to internally burst into tears.
“What do you wish to do?”
“………We can’t refuse a request from the princess. Bring her here.”
“Understood.” The official departed, clicking the door closed from behind.
A few moments of silence passed between them.
Ninym whispered, “And she’s taken the lead.”
“NNGHAAAAAAAAAAAA!” Wein yowled. “This is real bad! I haven’t figured out what she’s up to…!”
“Maybe she’ll lodge a formal complaint against you for letting Imperial nobility die on your watch?”
“Possible. And if she does, I bet she’ll toss in a few of her own demands…”
But Wein’s thoughts didn’t race fast enough because another knock came at the door before he could reach a conclusion.
“Princess Lowellmina has arrived.”
Damn it all! You could have taken your tiiiiime! He mentally berated the official.
Lowellmina came in and bowed toward Wein. “Apologies for taking time out of your busy day.”
“…There isn’t a single door in Natra that’s closed off to you, Princess,” Wein replied with a stiff smile. “But we’ve been dealing with the incident from last night. I would appreciate if we could keep this brief.”
He’d find his move while he kept her in check. Wein was fueled by sheer determination.
Give it to me. Give it to me good. I vow to myself that I’ll fend you off…!
He couldn’t let Lowellmina take the lead here. He didn’t know what her demands would involve, but it didn’t matter because he’d turn them down. That was the only answer.
“I’ll keep it short.” Lowellmina cleared her throat.
Wein steadied his breath.
“I surrender.”
“—I’m sorry, what?” Wein couldn’t stop a discomposed squeak from coming out of his lips.
“Geralt…is…dead…?”
Grinahae dropped the documents in his hands when news from his steward registered in his brain.
“Wh…What?! Why’d he have to die?!”
“U-um, Sir Geralt’s servant just rushed in and informed us that he fell to his death at the palace in Natra…”
“Don’t be ridiculous! This must be a mistake!”
“That’s what I thought…until they gave me this…” The steward passed a dagger to Grinahae.
He’d never mistake its inlaid jewels.
“According to the servant, who just barely escaped, all other members of his entourage were captured by Natra soldiers…”
Grinahae felt as if his legs might give way. He placed his hands on the desk nearby to steady himself.
He spoke in a tight voice. “Where is that servant now…?”
“Resting to recover from extreme weakness. They haven’t had anything to eat since fleeing Natra, after all…”
“…I understand. Ask for the full details when they’re up. And leave me be. I need to think alone for a while. Don’t let anyone come near this room.”
“Yes sir…” The steward slunk away and left.
When Grinahae was all alone, anguish crawled on his face.
“What’s going on…? Why did this…” Grinahae unconsciously let spill from his lips.
These questions had taken control of his heart.
Geralt was dead. He’d died in foreign territory.
From illness…? From an accident…? No.
Geralt had been assassinated. Of that, there was no question.
Then why? Why did they have to kill him?
It all started with that letter. It was a trick to lure him out!
After finding out Geralt had fallen in love with Princess Lowellmina, the enemy had timed the letter to arrive when he was back at the mansion and lured him. In other words, it had all been a scheme by Natra. The fact they had captured his servants was proof. It had to be to silence them.
Why did Natra need to kill him?
They could’ve held a grudge against him… But would they go this far? I mean, we’re Imperial nobility…and he’s my kid—the son of a marquis.
Call him out and assassinate him? That’d be reckless.
Even if they could keep the servants silent for now, the truth would come out eventually. It was tantamount to picking a fight with the Empire.
That’s when Grinahae realized something. Yeah. My son was murdered. That’s enough reason to invade. Then, Princess Lowellmina will be…
Grinahae was stating his problem in reverse to think through it when a doubt popped into his head.
…What if she knew about this assassination plot the entire time?
After all, though the letter had been sent under the crown prince’s name, its contents were written according to her will. If the prince hadn’t worked alone but sent the letter with her permission…that would mean they were conspiring together.
Why would the Imperial Princess and crown prince join forces to assassinate an Imperial aristocrat?
“ No way.” Grinahae’s body shivered with premonition.
They must have…caught on to our rebellion.
To him, this was the worst possible scenario.
Lowellmina couldn’t possibly know everything. If she’d discovered the entirety of their scheme, she wouldn’t act in this roundabout way. That said, the smidgen of intel she had must have continued his involvement. That was when she’d started sketching out a plan, making a deal with the crown prince to lure Geralt. And from there, they’d tried to get him to spill the details about the revolt.
And if they killed him…that means they’ve gotten what they wanted… How much did Geralt know…?
When it came to the revolt, even Grinahae hadn’t said a peep to any third parties—not even his own son. But there was a possibility that Geralt had seen the soldiers and weapons that his father was collecting. He must have felt something was amiss. If Geralt had known the full details and disclosed them, then they couldn’t waste time fighting Natra. There was a chance that the Empire had received news and dispatched their troops to confront him.
Get a move on and put up our defenses… Wait. Or think of an excuse…? Or maybe I should capture the princess? …Um… But…
His thoughts whirled around in his head, but he couldn’t come to a conclusion as he felt impending doom weigh heavily on him.
The situation had completely pushed Grinahae beyond his limits.
With no choice but to think of something, he continued wandering through a mental maze that had no exit.
“What in the world…!”
Grinahae hadn’t been the only one to receive news of Geralt’s death.
There was a servant who’d escaped captivity—sent secretly by Owl. It was one of his underlings, and this information had just now reached his ears.
“Geralt died, huh… Shit. At a time like this.”
“The crown prince and Geralt were demonstrating their swordsmanship for Princess Lowellmina when he passed on, but…”
“I’m guessing he was assassinated? Though there’s a good probability it was an accident.”
“It has to be more than that. Not even Geralt would be stupid enough to just up and die in a foreign country.”
But if that was the case, what was their motive?
Of course, Owl reached the same question as Grinahae—though unlike the marquis, he knew there was something more important than finding the right answer.
If Natra and Antgadull go to war, it’ll attract all eyes and ears. Our scheme to rebel isn’t complete. We must avoid any unwanted attention.
Owl ran through the possibilities and arrived at a decision.
“—Tell everyone. We’re switching strategies.”
Before Lowellmina had headed to Wein’s office, she’d faced Fyshe and groaned.
“This is a problem…”
She’d been planning to use Geralt to drag Natra into her schemes and accuse Marquis Antgadull of high treason. But that ploy had been smashed into a million pieces. Wein wasn’t the only one clutching his head and lamenting that all hope had been dashed.
“Fyshe, are you absolutely positive that he’s dead?”
“Yes… I inspected the body myself. There is no mistake or doubt about the cause. He snapped his neck. Instant death.”
“I see… Which makes me think he hasn’t been assassinated. It was clearly an accident.” Lowellmina exhaled long and slow.
Fyshe had on a grave look. “With all due respect, Your Highness, we should consider returning home for the time being.”
The princess’s gaze sharpened, but Fyshe did not falter.
“Our plan has been on thin ice since the very beginning. For it to work, we had to guarantee that no one knew of this scheme. But the prince saw through it, and our plan to use Lord Geralt has amounted to nothing. While your brothers’ vassals may be shaken by his death, they will be suspicious if you try to extend your stay. I advise against forming any new strategies here. It will only bring more trouble.”
Her argument was sound.
They’d been able to convince the delegation to remain in Natra by citing Geralt’s death, but most had no idea why he’d shown up or why Wein and Lowellmina had both warmly received him. There was no doubt that she’d be the target of their suspicions soon enough.
“I’m aware of your desire to save the Empire and inherit the throne. I know that this plan originally had the biggest potential of realizing it. But—”
“…That opportunity is now lost.”
“Yes…” Fyshe nodded with great distress.
Even she was tortured by their situation. Fyshe owed Lowellmina for lifting her out of obscurity after she’d lost her position as ambassador. She’d granted her another opportunity to serve the Empire with her blessing.
And Fyshe was drawn to Lowellmina for fighting for the throne as a woman, especially because she’d slammed into the glass ceiling herself as a successful diplomat. She wanted to aid Lowellmina in overthrowing this whole system.
Plus, the princess’s wisdom and love for her nation were absolute. How many members of the Imperial family would willingly place themselves in a foreign country as bait?
If only the plan had worked.
But there was nothing they could do.
“Fixating on our missed prey will only leave you in danger. Let’s return to the capital and sketch out our next plan.”
In this situation, the safety of the princess took priority. Even if Lowellmina resisted, she would ultimately return safely to their homeland. This was Fyshe’s job, and she would make certain that it was carried out.
“…Fyshe,” Lowellmina called out, sonorously yet coldly.
Fyshe’s heart constricted.
As a vassal, she knew it was a great dishonor to keep silent out of fear of displeasing her superior. She may have been appointed to her position only a few months prior, but she already understood that Lowellmina deserved her honesty.
Fyshe was going to put her foot down—without going back on her warning, no matter what.
Out of nowhere, Lowellmina hugged her, squeezing her tight.
“Ah, uh, Y-Your Highness?” Fyshe stammered, eyes wide in bewilderment. “Wh-what, umm, is the meaning of this…?”
“To tell you the truth, I’ve always wanted this. To be admonished by a trusted vassal. No one has ever put me in my place.”
Oh, how childlike, Fyshe thought when she realized something: The princess was a teenager. Her resourcefulness made it easy to forget at times.
But now wasn’t the time for this. Fyshe hardened her heart.
“All right, enough dillydallying. We’re in a race against time. This must wait until later.”
“Yes, I understand.” Lowellmina let go of Fyshe and beamed. “Every word of your warning was true. If we stay any longer, my life will be in danger.”
“Then,” she started.
“But my life is trivial.”
Fyshe went bug-eyed.
Lowellmina continued. “With my path to the throne thwarted, I must prioritize peace in the Empire—as the Imperial Princess and as a patriot.”
“And you’ll risk your life to see that through?”
“If I know that’s for the best.”
The two gazed at each other in silence.
Their eyes reflected their determination, their wills clashing against each other.
It went without saying that Fyshe was the one to give up.
“…You’re the rightful princess of the Earthworld Empire. You cannot just throw away your life. You must never forget that.”
“Thank you, Fyshe.”
“There’s no need to thank me. I’m your vassal. And it’s not as though we’ve solved our conundrum,” Fyshe reasoned.
Even if the princess’s will was set in stone, it wouldn’t get them past the difficulties standing in their way.
“About that… I intend to visit Prince Wein.”
“Can we rely on him?”
“We both wish to preserve the Empire. If I give up on my personal goals and work solely for the sake of the Empire, I’m willing to bet he’ll cooperate.”
“In theory. But people have emotions. From his point of view, we’re sworn enemies who have brought calamity upon Natra. To think he’ll readily agree…”
“No need to worry. He’s the type of person who can disregard his personal feelings when it benefits him,” Lowellmina declared with a wry smile. “Well, if he does refuse, we’ll flatter him best we can—though I don’t know how far that’ll get us.”
“If it comes down to that, I shall accompany you.” Fyshe gave a low bow in the face of her master’s resolve.
“ And that’s where things stand.”
Lowellmina took a sip of the black tea that Ninym had brought out as she finished explaining the situation.
“It was my hubris that led me to think I could put one over on you if given the chance. But I’ve given up on taking this opportunity to rise up in the world. From now on, I’ll focus on crushing the rebellion. Join me in devising a strategy?”
“……” Wein sat directly in front of her.
He shot Ninym a look. Thoughts?
She doesn’t seem to be lying, she replied in silence.
Wein pouted and groaned. “I’m honestly having a hard time believing you.”
“What? Doubting a friend? Do you think I’d try and trick you two?”
“I get the feeling you’re asking us to cooperate because your dirty ploys didn’t work out. Isn’t that right?”
“Well, yes, you’re not wrong.” Lowellmina cocked her head to the side with a blank look. “And what can I do to get you to believe me?”
“I mean, you’re the one making the request. Shouldn’t you come up with something?”
“You’re right. Let’s see… How about I take off my clothes?”
“I won’t stop you if you think trust can be taken as lightly as fabric.” Wein shrugged his shoulders. “But you’re underestimating me. I’m not so stupid that I’d fall for womanly wiles. Anyone with eyes can see what you’re trying to do.”
“Fyshe will join me. She’s waiting outside.”
“Gimme more details…!”
“—Hyah.” Ninym’s pen stabbed the back of Wein’s head. “Wein, we don’t have time to play around.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Wein grumbled, rubbing the sore spot. “To confirm, Lowa: Are you willing to do anything to stop the revolt?”
“Of course. I’m no longer in a position that grants me any other choice.”
“…All right. Then tell me everything you know about Grinahae and Antgadull.”
Lowellmina nodded and divulged as much information as she could. And she knew a ton, seeing as she’d originally planned to have Natra defeat Antgadull for her. She had a deep understanding of their military power and geography.
“At max, they have four thousand men, huh…” Wein parroted. “I know the Gairan State would be able to gather twice as many, but I guess that sounds about right if we’re talking about Antgadull. And all their weapons are from the West. That said, they’re short on commanders—and their current bunch have low proficiency.”
“They also have an insufficient number of horses. If it comes to war, I take it that their main force will be composed of foot soldiers.”
“True. If it comes to war,” Wein declared.
Lowellmina tilted her head to the side. “You did suppress a feud between tribes without spilling any blood. Could it be that you’ve actually become a philanthropist?”
“As if. I just didn’t want to waste manpower. It would’ve been a lose-lose to use my troops to battle my own people. As for our current situation, I want to avoid war for one simple reason…because we’re broke.”
“Okay, but how broke are we talking?”
“Prepare to be amazed. Let’s not think about defense for now. With our current budget, we can deploy about five hundred soldiers.”
Lowellmina’s eyes practically popped out of her head. “…You’re joking, right?”
“True story. We haven’t recovered from our war with Marden at all. Right, Ninym?”
“If we mobilized any more, we’d risk affecting government affairs.”
“And I’m not confident I’ll win against four thousand soldiers with five hundred. We might have a shot with Hagal in command, but we’ve got no time to call him back from his post along the western borders. Which means there’s no way for us to challenge Antgadull, at least not head-on,” Wein laid out.
Lowellmina reluctantly nodded. “…I see. I understand why you have to avoid war at all costs. But if that’s out, how should we resolve this problem?”
“Let’s take another look at the issue. Is our goal to take down Grinahae with military force? No. We want a verbal confession about the revolt, putting a stop to this plot at once. In other words, we make Grinahae lose his mind and surrender without wasting a single cent.”
Wein grinned. “Besides, we’ve been doing the impossible since our school days. Come on. Let’s think of a ruse.”
It had been about ten days since Grinahae received the news of his son’s death.
Winter was just around the corner. Even those in urban areas far from the mountains had announced sightings of snow.
“Master, the townspeople have submitted petitions asking you to admonish the soldiers for their violent and raucous behavior.”
“And those very same soldiers have become disgruntled by how the townspeople are treating them. At this rate, it’s only a matter of time before we have deserters…”
“We have correspondence from the State governor and magistrate, master. Please look this over.”
The problems in his territory kept cropping up, refusing to come to rest, even if he’d just lost his own son. And in any normal situation, he should have prioritized the reports that rained down on him in rapid-fire succession. But Grinahae couldn’t spare the mental energy.
“Shut it! You take care of the small stuff! Natra comes first! How are the investigations on their kingdom coming along?!”
These past ten days, Grinahae hadn’t taken any action. Or more precisely, he couldn’t. He’d been thinking of invading and capturing Princess Lowellmina. But just as he was about to mobilize his army, he feared the Empire’s own soldiers might come. He never issued the order.
Well, there was one thing that he did do: Put the mansion under strict guard. He ordered the townspeople to heighten their surveillance, but there hadn’t been enough people to handle the matter. Since Grinahae wasn’t on top of things either, nothing changed.
“We haven’t received any word of the investigation…”
“You useless fools! Shit! What about the servant who escaped?!”
“They just recovered, and…”
“Fetch them! I’ll ask what happened myself!” Grinahae roared at his subordinate, taking his anger out on his underling in a fit of rage.
His dignity had been meager to begin with. By now, it had been all but chucked out the window, offering him respite from the constant fear that danger would find him.
A servant came flying in the room in a fluster. “M-Master! Terrible news!”
“Quit your blustering! What’s going on?!”
“I-I’m sorry. We…we have guests at the front gate.”
“Guests? Idiots! Send them away! I don’t have time to entertain!”
“I understand that you have your hands full, but it’s—”
“ ”
Grinahae scrambled out of the room the moment he heard the name.
He sprinted through the hallway, booked it down the stairs, and skidded to a stop at the front entrance of the building. He saw a few people huddled together.
“ It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Marquis Antgadull.”
And in the center was one boy with a regal countenance that signified noble lineage. His youth and features agreed with the description that Grinahae had heard.
“You’re… You’re here.”
“Indeed.” He turned to Grinahae with a bold smile.
“I am the crown prince of the Kingdom of Natra, Wein Salema Arbalest.”
All right. Time for our main match, Wein thought.
Grinahae gaped at him in surprise, confusion, and fear—a whole assortment of emotions. Wein evenly met his gaze.
How could he break Grinahae’s spirit and spend as little money as possible?
The answer was both simple and obvious. Go crush him himself. That was why Wein had arrived in Antgadull.
But of course, he was shouldering great risk.
“Guards! Attack!” Grinahae shouted, and soldiers quickly rushed to his side with weapons.
Sounds about right.
Grinahae wasn’t just like a moth to a flame. It was a bigger deal than that.
But Wein had already accounted for this. And he had a predecessor who’d marched into enemy territory with a small entourage of her own. Wein had no reason to be worried—
…Crap, I might die.
Or maybe he did, based on the soldiers gathering in droves and looking like they were ready to attack at any moment. This made even Wein take a step back.
“Your Highness.” Raklum was among the guards he’d brought along, and his hand grazed his sword.
“Wait. Not yet.” Wein held up his own hand to stop them before projecting his voice. “Marquis Antgadull. I’d appreciate it if you called off your guards. I’m not here to fight.”
“How dare you tell me that! You killed my son Geralt…!”
“That’s why I’m here. There appears to be a huge miscommunication between us. I’ve come myself to explain and make concessions.”
“A miscommunication, you say? And what would that be?!”
Wein made a face laden with an unspoken intent. “If you wish, I’ll divulge the details… But is that what you what? For me to tell you here?”
Apprehension flashed across Grinahae. Wein saw right through his reaction.
He’s got something in mind. And he isn’t surprised that I know about it. Which means he thinks Geralt’s death has something to do with the revolt. Great.
Wein decided on his course of action with a speed that Grinahae couldn’t even dream of matching.
“Marquis Antgadull, don’t you think it would be mutually beneficial for us to sit down and talk? I have a message from Princess Lowellmina for you. And I’d like to hand over your son’s remains.” Wein pointed outside.
There was a wagon loaded on top with a coffin fit for an aristocrat. Inside was Geralt’s corpse.
“And wouldn’t you want to avoid bloodshed in front of your son?”
“Ngh, Grr…”
This wasn’t to appeal to his emotional side. But by invoking Geralt’s name, Wein had given Grinahae a reason to call his guards off—or a way out.
And sure enough, Grinahae nodded begrudgingly. “…Fine. I’ll arrange a meeting.”
Wein grinned. “Wonderful. I promise it will be productive.”
“The crown prince of Natra is here?!” Owl instinctively shouted in astonishment at the shocking report.
“There’s no mistake…! He arrived at Antgadull’s mansion just now.”
“…Well, shit! One problem after another!” Owl kicked a nearby chair, sending it flying across the room.
Owl vented about these unwelcome developments as he gathered his thoughts.
“And how large is his party?”
“Just five.”
“……”
How stupid! To think a crown prince would come to a foreign nation with such a lacking entourage!
At the same time, this was how he’d managed to keep this visit on the down low, since he’d done the unimaginable. If he’d dragged along a group of hundreds, they would have detected him before he’d reached the town.
But Owl was sure this ballsy move would cost the prince his life. After all, Grinahae’s pawns weren’t the only ones in town.
“And how many of our men are ready to go?”
“Around ten.”
“Gather everyone. If the prince survives and leaves the mansion, we’ll be there to bring him down.”
“What about our people involved in the other situation? We could call them back.”
“…No need. We’ll work in tandem.”
“Understood!”
As Owl spat his orders at his underlings, he had the keen sense they were falling behind. There was no question that the crown prince of Natra had taken the initiative.
That’s why I’m going to…!
With newfound resolve, Owl began making his preparations.
“First, I wish to extend my sincerest apologies over the death of Lord Geralt.”
In the room arranged for them, Wein expressed his regrets first as he sat face-to-face with Grinahae.
“You may find this hard to believe, but I did not intend for him to die.”
“There’s no way I could trust you!”
Yeah, I figured. Wein could sympathize with Grinahae’s vitriol. If he hadn’t seen it firsthand, he would have thought it was premediated murder, too. Who would have thought the guy would fling himself out of a window?
“Let’s say I believe you. Why did he die?”
It was the question Wein had been waiting for.
“Because it was the Imperial Princess’s will.”
“What…?!”
“I’ll be frank, Marquis Antgadull… Her Imperial Highness knew everything.”
Those with a lot to hide can’t help feeling antsy when others say that they know everything. This was particularly heightened when they have authority over you, and the look on Grinahae’s face showed that the attack had been effective.
“Knew…what?” His voice trembled as Grinahae did his best to play the innocent.
Wein mercilessly gave chase. “About your involvement in the upcoming revolt, of course.”
“Wh…!”
“A word of advice?” Wein stopped Grinahae, who looked as if he were about to object. “Any chance to weasel your way out of this is long gone. I have proof. Even if I happen to die here, I’m guessing the Imperial forces will come here sooner or later.”
“D-don’t be stupid… I would never…!”
It had to be a bluff. Wein had no evidence. Grinahae could theoretically talk his way out of it.
Go on, take the bait…
Wein knew a bluff wouldn’t be enough to take him down. He was dropping breadcrumbs to lead Grinahae on.
“There’s no way I… That’s it! If you’re telling me the truth, then why are you here? Are you saying you’ve come to deliver Geralt’s body and hand me my death sentence?!”
Hook, line, and sinker.
Wein wouldn’t let this moment pass him by. “Would you laugh if I said I’ve come to save you?”
“Wh…what do you mean?”
“Princess Lowellmina intends to crush your household. As a true patriot, she’s merciless to enemies of the Empire. I’ve cooperated with her plot since we became friends when I was studying in there, but…it seems our goals are slightly different.”
There was no way for Grinahae to notice.
He hadn’t noticed that he was getting lost in Wein’s completely believable account where fiction piled upon fiction. He began to see those fabrications not for what they were but as absolute truth.
“It’d be great for our kingdom if the Gairan State could remain an understanding neighbor. If you’re defeated, the land will be confiscated, and the State governor will come to inherit its power. That would be a pain. That man has no respect for royal blood.”
“Hmph…”
“I mean, though you’ve become a vassal of the Empire, you carry the blood of the royal family. A future where nobility are expelled; ensuing days where the masses get their way, ignorant of proper bloodlines. Isn’t that a dreadful one?”
Needless to say, Wein didn’t actually believe this one bit.
He always thought lineage didn’t matter all that much. However, a great deal of people throughout the continent thought it had value, and he knew this belief was especially prevailing among the aristocrats. If that’s the case, he had no qualms about exploiting it. Wein was a politician—not a philosopher.
And the topic of lineage lowered Grinahae’s guard.
“That… That’s true. You’re right. But ‘save me’? What do you plan to do…?”
“No need to fear…for the root of all evil, Lord Geralt, is dead after all!”
“Come again…?” Grinahae was dumbfounded.
Wein faced him with a grotesque smile. If anyone else had seen, they would have sworn they were looking into the face of a devil.
“A harrowing tale! Oh, haunting! He forgot his loyalty to the Empire, kept his own parent locked in this house for the sake of his cause, and took advantage of the revolt out of a desire for independence! A beast in human form!”
“…W-wait, you can’t be…”
“But when you consider his reputation in the Empire, many will agree—or even sympathize with you! Princess Lowellmina managed to sniff out his villainous nature, lay down the trap, and slay him! Nothing short of magnificent!”
“Damn you! Pinning everything on Geralt—”
“I mean, of course!” Wein interrupted Grinahae. “Of course, the blame would be put on you! It’s your duty as a parent to atone for your child’s deeds! But the princess vows to resolve the matter by reducing your territory in size—if you bring proof of your participation in this plan and testify that you were unable to stop your son from attempting to enact his scheme…!
“Ngh ” Grinahae trembled, shuddering in response to Wein’s fearsome energy.
“That’s just how it is, Marquis Antgadull. You’re a victim. Bear the dishonor with distinction and beg for the clemency of Princess Lowellmina in Natra.”
Wein was letting his venom sink in bit by bit as he led Grinahae to an escape route. When humans are driven into a corner, they tend to lash out. But if there’s anything that resembles an escape, they tend to make their way out of there.
“Which means Geralt,” Grinahae started in a tight voice, “really was assassinated…”
“It came at the end of a bitter road. But it was a necessary act of justice.”
That was a huge lie. He died in an accident. But now that he was gone, Wein would twist everything at his disposal to his advantage, including Geralt’s posthumous reputation and cause of death. The dead can’t talk. They could only be lauded by the living.
“A necessary…sacrifice…huh…”
“I understand you’re mourning the loss of your child. But the survival of your lineage takes precedence. Continue the Antgadull name, and I assure you you’ll see the light of day in another life. Come. It’s time to make a sensible decision…as your late father would have wished.”
“……” Grinahae was silent. His mind must have been racing faster than ever before.
Come on! Come on! Come on! Wein prayed as he waited for Grinahae to come to a decision.
There was a long, long pause before he spoke.
“…I’ll prepare for departure. Give me some time.”
OH YEEEEEEAH! Wein pumped his fist vigorously in his mind. On the outside, he nodded in satisfaction and held out his hand.
“You’ve made a fine decision. I’m sure everything will be settled.”
Wein firmly refused Grinahae’s offer to have a room prepared for him, leaving the mansion with his guards. His destination was the town inn.
When nobles went out on excursions, it wasn’t as if they could leave with nothing but the clothes on their backs. They had to choose guards and attendants to care for them, prepare funds and supplies that would need to be brought for the trip, and carefully select the route to their destination and plan out any rest stops. Only then would they depart.
Grinahae had insisted he needed a few days of preparation.
But Wein shook his head. “Didn’t I tell you? The princess is aware of everything.”
After all, Grinahae had been on the verge of invading Natra, which meant he had everything in place to leave at a moment’s notice. And when Wein made a comment on her omniscience, Grinahae completely retracted his statement, announcing he’d be done the very next day.
Grinahae had a few reasons why he wanted to buy himself time.
One, because he never knew when to give up.
Two, because he needed to mentally prepare for their meeting.
And three—
“Your Highness,” called out Raklum, one of Wein’s guards, suddenly from next to him.
“Yeah, I know.”
The town was filled with an eerie silence even though it was the middle of the day.
They’d heard that the people had locked themselves away as a result of the debauchery of the stationed soldiers. They were disgusted by Grinahae’s hands-off attitude, but—
This is different.
The general atmosphere had changed from when they’d first entered the town. Someone was intentionally driving the people away. Wein had an inherently perceptive eye to see this, as did Raklum with his natural intuition.
“And can we evade it?”
“…No, I sense them behind and in front of us. They’ve boxed us in.”
As he calmly walked along the cobblestone road, Raklum turned to the other guards and gestured his orders. They huddled around Wein.
“I’m guessing they’re positioned along those side streets, too.”
“They’ve covered all their bases.”
These weren’t Grinahae’s subordinates. This plan had worked out a route ahead of time, cleared people out, and staked an ambush. None of his pawns could ever pull that off.
So, who could?
Before they could figure out the answer, human silhouettes appeared from all angles, blocking their advance and retreat, plugging up escape routes.
“We’ll cut through. Don’t lag behind.”
“Got it. Let’s go!”
With his guards, Wein unsheathed his sword and raced toward the attackers.
There was a chapel near Antgadull’s mansion. Grinahae had it made at the citizens’ request, since he wasn’t deeply religious or anything.
But there he was now. Together with the coffin that held his son’s corpse.
“……”
Geralt looked peaceful in death. Grinahae could tell Natra had been respectful in the handling of his body. As he gazed upon his son, he looked the part of a parent wandering aimlessly in life upon the loss of his child.
But that was far from the truth. There wasn’t an ounce of sadness in his heart.
“…Stupid until the very end,” he murmured with disappointment and a self-deprecating chuckle. “No… I shouldn’t be surprised. You were my son, after all.”
He thought back on his earlier conversation with Wein. It was Grinahae who had been grilled under pressure. He was a marquis of the Empire, and yet he’d been overtaken by the drive of someone twenty-four years his junior.
Oh, it’s all coming back to me. The same thing had happened when meeting with his father, King Antgadull.
Just like Father. Or maybe even greater than him…
March into enemy territory. Persuade the enemy with eloquence. Calmly return home. These would seem the actions of a foolish hero, but Wein accomplished them. He had all the markings of greatness. Just like King Antgadull. Hereafter, he would grow into a man of significance and become a driving force in the history of the continent.
Grinahae had always wanted that for himself. He’d wanted to become as great as his father. Even greater.
And yet when up against that young boy, he was faced with the cold, hard truth.
It would never happen. Such a feat was far beyond him.
“Heh—Heh-heh-heh.”
What could he call the feeling rising up in his heart?
It wasn’t anger. Or resentment. It wasn’t beautiful like a flame nor splendid like water. It was clumsy and plain. Like a boulder.
“Now that I think about it, I don’t think I praised you even once.”
Grinahae and Geralt. Father and son. The child had lost his life, and the parent wasn’t far off from sinking into the sea of history.
“I know sobbing for you won’t cheer you up.”
Obstinance. Yes. That was the name of the feeling.
He was about to place an all-or-nothing bet for the first and last time. This was all he could do as a pebble on the wayside.
“Think of this as an offering. I’ll challenge that young hero for you.” Grinahae turned on his heel and gave orders to the servants waiting outside.
“Gather up any soldiers who can fight. We’re capturing the crown prince of Natra and then seizing Princess Lowellmina…!”
The shrill sound of swords clashing against each other resounded in the back alley. Wein and his guards were locked in battle against their assailants.
This is bad… Wein internally clicked his tongue as he assessed the situation.
There were ten attackers, while Wein had five guards. The enemy held the advantage.
But his soldiers were elites, handpicked from Natra’s top troops. They didn’t back down, continuing to hold their ground as they secured the area around Wein.
We’re being lured.
As they were busy staving off their attackers, they were being driven into the alley. He could tell this was intentional.
It won’t be long before the townspeople overhear this scuffle and report it to the authorities or the patrols catch on and come running to the scene. Which means our enemies want a short, decisive battle. And there must be a trap waiting for us at the end of the alleyway.
Where was it? As he backed up against a wall to prevent any attacks from behind, his eyes did a quick sweep across the area. The backstreets were narrow, making a large-scale trap impossible. It had to be a trick that was simple and sudden, one shot to take them down—
“ Oh snap!”
In that moment, the wall that Wein had trusted would protect him was penetrated by a spear from the opposite side—busting right through it to stab at him.
“WHAAAAAAAT?!”
At the very last second, Wein flipped over to dodge the tip of a spear, which grazed and shredded his overcoat.
“Tch!” The assailant who’d bumbled his thrust—Owl—clicked his tongue. He lunged again, but Wein repelled his attack with his sword.
“Your Highness!”
“I’m fine! Focus on the enemy front of you!” he urged Raklum, who’d grown increasingly panicked.
Wein never once broke his gaze with the man before him.
“Managed to escape, huh. Lucky move.”
Wein snorted. “Did that look like luck to you? This may be our first time meeting but I think you might need to get your eyes checked.”
Hooooooly smokes! I can’t do that a second time! No way! No how! Wein thought, forcing himself to keep it together, but his heart was ready to leap out of his chest.
They kicked it into high gear when this guy showed up. There’s no doubt he’s their emotional anchor. If I take him down, the others will go down with him. But…
He glanced at Owl poised with his spear and knew he’d be a formidable enemy. There were no visible gaps to rush in on. And who knew how long he’d last on defense?
Which means…
Wein smiled brazenly. “You’re the guys who got Marquis Antgadull mixed up in the revolt.”
“……”
“I should have guessed you wouldn’t reply. Then let me take a stab at it. Your real identities? Survivors from the conquered countries in the former alliance—” His voice was piercing. “Officially, anyway. You’re actually spies from the West.”
Owl thrust his spear. With the flat side of his sword, Wein knocked it off its trajectory in a heavy hit. Pins and needles shot though his hand.
“I’m guessing you’re a persistent bunch if you’d go out of your way to recruit a marquis in the boonies. But I gotta tell you. You picked the wrong candidate. A stroke of bad luck. That’s why your plans fell through, right?”
“……”
“Your face is telling me you think you’ve got a chance at fixing things. But do you really? I bet you’ve got some other pals in town. But they’ve got their hands full with something else and can’t help out. Am I wrong?”
For the first time, trepidation flashed across Owl’s face.
“I’ll answer for you. Their job is to silence Grinahae for good by assassinating him. Then, they’ll erase all proof of the uprising in the mansion. Since the mansion is bustling with activity right now, I’m sure they think they’ll have an easy time enacting their little scheme.”
This boy…! Owl shuddered internally.
Everything that Wein had guessed was the truth.
The young crown prince had read through his every move while he’d been in Natra.
However, that was the extent of it. It didn’t matter if he was an open book. Their men had already infiltrated the mansion. And Wein was being held up here, which meant—
“—Who said these were my only soldiers?”
Owl went bug-eyed in disbelief.
The mansion of Marquis Antgadull was in a flurry of activity from top to bottom. Soldiers hurried back and forth to carry out their orders, which were occasionally barked out in a raised tone. It was as if a storm was blasting through the mansion, yet a few people stood on the sidelines, watching with no concern at all.
“What’s going on?”
“Who knows? I bet the master has come up with another idea.”
Chatting over a pleasant conversation were lowly maids. Their duties were related to the upkeep of the mansion, and they had no interest or role in partaking in anything beyond that.
“Anyway, here you go. Make sure that young’un gets their meal.”
“Right, right.”
With that, a maid headed toward the sickroom with a tray of food to where one of Geralt’s servants was resting. They had arrived ten days ago in critical condition.
“But, hmm,” she talked to herself as she walked down the hallway. “I saw Master Geralt off before his departure, but I don’t think that child was among the servants… I would have remembered seeing someone so cute, after all,” she mumbled, heading toward the sickroom.
She suddenly saw a human silhouette down the far end of the hallway.
“Huh? But that’s where…”
In the mansion, there were a number of rooms that the servants were never allowed to go near, let alone enter. She’d heard they stored treasures and important documents, but she had no way of knowing the details. The important thing was that one of those rooms was at the far end of the hall where she had seen the shadowy figure.
She assumed it was a soldier unfamiliar with the layout of the mansion.
Because she was in the middle of delivering a meal, she thought it best to leave it be—but that might sour Master Grinahae’s mood. And that meant running the risk that he’d criticize all the servants.
It can’t be helped. She trotted down the hallway and peeked around the corner.
“Um, we’re not supposed to enter in…” She halted mid-sentence.
When she’d turned the corner, she was confronted by two men dressed as soldiers, and they turned around in shock at her calling.
And she was just as surprised—for one of the soldiers kneeling in front of the door was trying to pick the lock open.
“Um, what are you—aaaaah!” she shrieked as one yanked her arm, forcibly dragging her into the corner.
The tray slipped from her hands and clattered to the floor.
“I told you to keep a close watch…!”
“Sorry. I’ll take care of it.”
It was here that she finally realized what was and would be happening to her. These two were thieves—and she was now a witness.
She had to call someone. But her decision came much too late. Just then, one man’s hand clamped over her mouth as the other gripped a dagger.
Ah, s-stop. She writhed and thrashed around, desperately trying to escape.
But they’d overpowered her, and she was unable to wiggle out of his grasp. The bare blade drew closer, sliding across her neck and—
“…Huh?”
The dagger that used to be in his hand was sticking out of his head.
She didn’t understand what was going on. Strangely, the man and girl adopted the same expression before he crumpled on top of her. And while she struggled to process these events, a boy had appeared beside her before she had a chance to notice. She recognized his face. He was the servant who’d come rushing into the mansion a little over a week before.
“The food. You brought it all this way. Sorry about that.”
At the same time, she was even more stumped than before. When she’d seen him, he’d had black hair. But the one before her now had hair as white as snow.
“Don’t worry. It’ll be over soon,” he said curtly.
The boy was Nanaki Ralei.
“Protect Grinahae?”
On this day, Wein had called Nanaki to his office to issue an order. The Flahm couldn’t hide his confusion.
“Why do I have to do that?”
“Because I’m almost certain Grinahae will be assassinated,” Wein answered, no bullshit. “The culprits are Western spies who drew him into their plan to revolt. They want to kill him to prevent him from spoiling the scheme any further. I want you to protect Grinahae and make sure he doesn’t die.”
“…What a pain. Who cares if he dies?”
Wein shook his head. “We can’t have that. If he dies now, it’ll be a huge problem. We need him to live, so we can get him to confess.”
Nanaki groaned in dissatisfaction. “But Falanya is my master. I can’t leave her.”
“I understand that. While you’re gone, I intend to up her security.”
“…Why can’t you get anyone else?”
“It has to be you,” Wein asserted. “This job requires a master of disguise. Only one person fits that bill. And that’s you, Nanaki.”
The Flahm are good at makeup. This was an ancient saying in the Western continent that came about due to their characteristic red eyes and white hair.
A persecuted people in the West, the Flahm usually had appearances that were dead giveaways of their racial origin. To circumvent this, it’s said they began trying to deceive others by changing the color of their eyes and hair.
The saying was originally created out of spite to mock them. But this tradition became an essential skill to the Flahm. Parent passed it on to child, who went on to teach it to their own child. Legend has it that the skill passed on through generations is alive and well throughout the continent.
And so, Nanaki made for an excellent choice as a master of this talent.
“…Guess I’ve got no choice. Okay, how should I sneak in?”
“Through the front door,” Wein said as he took out Geralt’s dagger. “Bring this with you, call yourself Geralt’s servant, and tell them he’s died. Act as weak as possible. They’ll let you rest in the mansion as Grinahae tightens security around him, jumping at shadows. This way, assassins won’t be able to waltz right in.”
“Which means I don’t have to do anything after I get in?”
“Not quite. I plan on arriving shortly after. It’ll probably result in a huge uproar. The assassins will take that opportunity to take out Grinahae and dispose of the evidence. Stop them and secure the proof.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“Isn’t it? For you, anyway.”
Without answering, Nanaki took the dagger and put it in his breast pocket.
Before turning on his heel, he asked, “One last thing. Will this help Falanya?”
“Of course. Have I ever lied to you?”
“Yeah, a bunch of times.”
Wein looked away, and Nanaki snorted.
“Well… I guess you’ve never lied when it comes to Falanya.”
Nanaki left the room. His figure melded into his surroundings, and without anyone noticing, he departed for Antgadull’s mansion—
“Wh-who the hell are you?!”
Which brings us back to the present. He confronted the assassins.
“Can’t you tell by looking at me? We’re in the same business.” Nanaki kicked off the ground, aiming for the man.
Even though he hadn’t recovered from the shock, the man tried to reach for the dagger at his waist, but it was too late. Before his hand could reach its hilt, Nanaki closed in soundlessly, snatching it out of his hands and piercing up through the man’s jaw.
“Gah…?!” The man groaned, clawing at his face to yank the dagger sticking out of him, but he lost all strength and slammed into the floor.
“……” Nanaki took a momentary glance at the silent corpse then turned around. “See? Told you it wouldn’t take long… Hey.”
When he called out to the girl, he realized she’d fainted before she was able to pull herself out from under the corpse that pinned her down. Watching two people get killed right before her eyes had been too traumatic for her.
“…Well, whatever. Saves me time.”
Now that he’d stopped the assassins, Nanaki had to get evidence of the rebellion next. That meant hiding the bodies and getting a move on.
“I wonder if Wein is at his wit’s end right about now, too,” Nanaki murmured as he gathered the unconscious girl to place in a room to rest.
Just as Nanaki suspected, Wein was reaching the climax of his own scene.
“You’re telling me you have men hidden in the mansion—”
“A bit late, but thanks for noticing.” Wein faced Owl with a brazen smile that seemed to leer at him. “I have excellent soldiers. I’m hedging my bets that they’ve stopped the assassination and gathered all the evidence in the mansion right about now. Well, what are you gonna do? Do you have time to dillydally with me?”
“Ngh…!” Owl griped as uncertainty started to bubble in his heart, which he managed to suppress. “If that’s the case, I’ll just hurry up and kill you so I can rush over there—!”
He roared, letting out a battle cry as he threw all his strength into a single attack.
“Yeah, that’s true—I knew you’d try that!”
Wein had anticipated his movements, managing the spear deftly and swinging his blade at Owl’s throat.
Owl was not to be underestimated, either. He evaded the perfect counter by a hair and used that opening to follow with an attack, unleashing his strength—when he noticed something.
In Wein’s other hand, something was glimmering in the light.
A concealed weapon?! But he’s aiming for my shoulder. Even if he managed to strike, it wouldn’t be—
—fatal, he thought.
That’s when a voice shot through him. “Poison.”
When he heard that, Owl moved as though possessed, forcefully contorting his body and dodging just as the concealed weapon was about to strike him. If it hadn’t been Owl, this would have been impossible. But even for him, it was a miracle that came at the cost of all else.
“—I can’t have any assassins getting away.”
Without missing his opportunity, Wein sliced off one of Owl’s arms.
“GYAAGH ?!”
If it had been anyone else, they would have howled and collapsed to the ground, but Owl rolled away to distance himself from Wein. The wound was obviously severe.
Compressing the hemorrhaging stump with his other hand, Owl shouted in a rasping breath, “Damn royalty, using a concealed weapon…!”
“Call it underhanded, but since I’m the son of the king, that makes it royal decree.” Wein flashed an impudent smile.
But there hadn’t been any poison in it. That would have made it difficult to wield, and Wein would have been in a tight spot if it was used against him.
“Urg…!”
Owl realized everything had been a setup. By reminding Owl that he’d need to get evidence from the mansion, Wein had created a mental wall that stopped his opponent from doing anything too risky. He mentioned the poison with exquisite timing—and it was toxic to his psyche. One could say Owl was lucky that it had only cost him his arm.
“Captain! —Aaack?!”
As soon as their leader crumbled, the other assailants started to feel the effects. And once that happened, it was impossible for them to recover.
“Well, what now? Do you want to continue?”
Owl gnashed his teeth as if to crush them. “I’ll come for your head…Wein Salema Arbalest.”
“No need to drop by.”
Owl shouted. “…All forces, stand down! Retreat!” he barked.
The attackers drew back like a wave. The guards pursued them for a moment, but Wein held them off.
“Leave them be. There’s something more important…”
Upon exiting the backstreets, Wein gazed out toward the mansion. He could sense a cluster of people coming in their direction.
“They’re…not…here to help us.”
“It’s come down to this…”
There were three reasons why Grinahae had wanted to buy time.
There was stubbornness. And the need to psych himself up.
The third reason was to figure out whether he could capture Princess Lowellmina and if it made sense to break off the deal with Wein.
Because Wein had sensed this ulterior motive, he’d pressed Grinahae to be ready to leave as soon as possible. Since this was the indecisive marquis they were talking about, Wein had figured he’d run out of time before he could come to a decision. However, that assumption had been turned on its head. Wein didn’t know the reason, but an invisible hand was steering Grinahae out of Wein’s sight.
“Your Highness, what shall we do?”
“Not much else we can do. We’ll have to go with Plan B.”
“Which means?”
Wein shrugged his shoulders. “Run away with our tails between our legs. We’ll steal some horses on the way out and put distance between us.”
“Understood!”
Following in Owl’s footsteps, Wein scurried from the scene with his soldiers in tow.
Once he started trying to move things along, Grinahae was struck by the extent of his incompetence.
First, he couldn’t gather the soldiers he’d planned to mobilize.
They’d never really had any sort of discipline or rules. When he’d called upon them, most didn’t bother responding. And the ones that did show up were unfocused because he didn’t have enough commanders. Even as Grinahae raised his voice and warned them to obey him, it was obvious they were patronizing him.
As he was trying his absolute best to whip them into shape, the soldiers sent to capture Wein had sent him a message.
“My lord. We have confirmation that Crown Prince Wein and his guards did not return to the inn.”
“On a related matter, we have reports of people matching their physical descriptions stealing horses and leaving town. I assume it was them.”
“Ngh…!”
This was a hard blow to Grinahae. His plan had been to throw Natra into chaos by capturing their pillar, Wein. Next, he would have used that opening to invade and capture Princess Lowellmina.
If this had happened before Grinahae got a taste of the real Wein, he would have faked confidence, stating that this was no problem. However, now that he’d witnessed Wein’s capability for true greatness, it only confirmed to Grinahae that if the boy led an army, it would be more threatening than he could ever imagine. He mustn’t be allowed to escape, no matter what.
Grinahae raised his voice. “Lock down the checkpoints on routes heading to Natra! Foot soldiers, prepare to head out! I will lead the cavalry myself and pursue Wein!”
“Y-you’re going to lead the pursuit?”
“Problem?!”
“N-no…”
The subordinate had hesitated to say it, but even Grinahae realized this was an act of desperation. If he left home base to be a captain, it would not only put him in harm’s way, but also delay any of his commands and strategies for the greater scheme.
However, Grinahae had decided he would take up the reins as captain and lead the pursuit. In part, there were no other subordinates capable of handling this task, and also he wanted to capture Wein himself, just to prove he could do it.
In any case, he selected fifty of the fastest riders from the four hundred cavalrymen that he’d managed to scrape together and led them out of town.
Their opponents, five in total. Fifty cavalrymen should have been more than enough. The problem was whether they’d be able to catch up. Their targets must have covered considerable distance since their departure. But Grinahae was confident on that point. The checkpoints along the border of Natra were sending smoke signals to notify them of prepared blockades. Of course, there were other ways to circumvent them—but that would eat up time.
And they had a report of a sighting at the second checkpoint. Just as they received the signal to put up a blockade, a couple of riders had tried to push their way through. They were in a gridlock about letting them pass or not. It had taken some time for the riders to force their way through. They’d only just left.
“Chase them with everything we’ve got! Capture them alive!” Grinahae raced forward on his horse as he issued his manifesto.
Straight along the horizon, their targets came into view.
“There! Over there!”
He figured Wein would prepare soldiers just beyond the border. If their opponents took refuge on the other side, there would be nothing else he could do. But his finest selection of horses could catch up at this distance. And when they did, their numbers would determine the outcome of the battle without question.
We’ll make it! We’ll definitely make it…!
With his group, Grinahae approached a low hill. Once they crossed, there’d be a basin waiting below them. That was Wein’s destination.
Just watch me, Geralt. I’ll catch the brat who killed you with my own hands!
As they went up and over the hill in one go, a formation of hundreds of Natra soldiers waited in the basin before them.
“There’s a fifty-fifty chance that negotiations will break Grinahae’s spirits,” Wein had said at the meeting with Ninym and Lowellmina to discuss their battle strategy.
“Which means we’ll have to plan ahead in the event it doesn’t work out.”
“Obviously. But can we afford to fail in the middle of enemy territory?” Lowellmina asked.
Wein answered. “Let’s say we fail. Grinahae isn’t the type of person who can do anything to me with a snap judgment. We’ll skip town while he’s still freaking out.”
“Will you be able to escape all the way back to Natra?” This was Ninym’s question.
He shook his head. “Doubt it. Which is why we’ll send a few soldiers to infiltrate the marquis’s territory so that we aren’t caught. Based on the speed of the horses, the position of the checkpoints, and the geography…let’s gather near this basin.”
Wein pointed to a single location on the map spread across the table. Lowellmina had offered the detailed map to aid in Wein’s victory, and the geography of enemy territory was now laid bare. It wouldn’t be difficult to sneak in the soldiers.
“Once Grinahae knows I’ve booked it out of there, he’s sure to chase me with his soldiers. But if he’s prioritizing speed, he should only be able to take a hundred cavalrymen with him, max.”
“…I see. That’s how you’ll whittle down his army of four thousand to one hundred. That way, even our small group can take them down,” Ninym commented.
“All to make Marquis Grinahae lose his will to fight. He’ll think he only has a few opponents and select only his most elite force, as hundreds of your soldiers will be lying in wait.”
Ninym and Lowellmina nodded in admiration, but Wein wasn’t finished yet.
“Hey, hey, you two. Isn’t it a bit early to be satisfied? That’s not all.”
“‘Not all’?…You don’t just intend to arrest Grinahae afterward?” questioned Ninym.
“Didn’t I tell you? My goal isn’t to take him down: It’s to break his will. If I capture him, he’ll just get more stubborn and refuse to cooperate.”
Wein smiled maliciously.
“I’ve got one more thing in store.”
“Ri… Ridiculous.” Grinahae couldn’t help but shudder at the scene before his very eyes.
These were the lands of Marquis Antgadull. Why were the soldiers of Natra here?
It was a natural question for Grinahae to ask, but he didn’t have time to seek out an answer.
“Let us retreat, my lord!”
“We should be able to pull back if we make it to the checkpoint!”
His subordinates’ tense voices rose up. Their admonitions were right. The difference between them was as clear as night and day. Natra numbered around four hundred, and their battle formation was beautiful even from an enemy standpoint.
On the other hand, he came in with fifty cavalrymen who were already tired from the journey there. It affirmed that challenging Natra to a battle would be reckless—even if they stayed in this territory.
But Grinahae didn’t come to a decision. Or rather, it’d be more precise to say that he couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t win. But fleeing here essentially meant giving up on capturing Wein. He could almost hear his plans come crashing down, leaving him dumbfounded.
If Natra attacked right then, his team would collapse faster than a castle made from sand.
But that isn’t what happened.
What actually occurred was even further from his imagination.
“ Hmm?”
The forewarning was the tremor of feet upon the earth, followed by a heavy, low sound from behind. When his soldiers turned around to see what was going on, a cloud of sand kicked up. Emerging from it were the troops, coming toward them.
“I-incoming! From the rear! Their numbers…are in the thousands!” a subordinate cried out in sorrow.
That was only to be expected. A secret force had manifested from behind them. Enemy forces were lined up at the front. They had blocked off every route of escape.
“Wh-whose flag is this?! Natra’s?!”
It didn’t matter who they were or how they got there. If it was Natra, the only two options were to admit defeat or die an honorable death. Grinahae was overcome by anxiety—it was as though his entrails had all turned to ice. He waited for the subordinate’s reply.
“I-it’s…not! It’s the Empire!”
“WHAT?!”
Was it the foot soldiers that he’d left in town who had followed them? He quickly shook his head. These men had arrived much too fast.
Then who could it be?
He didn’t know. But they had to be Imperial troops, which meant they were here to back him up. He was a marquis of the Empire, after all.
“Quick, merge with the army behind us! We’ll display our flag and make a full retre—”
“M-my lord! Please wait!” One of his subordinated interrupted him with a trembling voice and pointed at the center of the approaching army. “Look, those…those flags!”
Grinahae looked ahead and saw three flags raised.
One was for the Empire.
Another for the Gairan State.
And then, the last flag that billowed in the middle—
“The flag of Imperial Princess Lowellmina…?!”
Lowellmina. The one he’d been after. She was now leading her troops and drawing ever closer.
“Sheesh, I will not allow for this nonsense again.”
Many of the soldiers who made up their forces were from the Gairan State. In the center was an old man on horseback who spoke candidly, surrounded by elite soldiers who guarded him closely. He was the governor of the Gairan State.
“I understand. I’m eternally grateful,” responded the girl on horseback next to him, Lowellmina. “I will be certain to convey your thoughtfulness to my brothers.”
“And include Your Highness’s tomboyish ways.”
As his advice went in one ear and out the other, an envoy approached on horseback.
“I have a report. We’ve confirmed sightings of troops for both Natra and Grinahae in the basin.”
“I see. Well then, please invite the crown prince and the marquis over our way,” the governor responded.
“Understood!”
Watching him from the side as he issued orders, Lowellmina quietly murmured, “Well then, let us bring things to an end.”
Is this reality? Am I dreaming? Grinahae had started to mull over these extremes. This was his current mental state.
He was currently walking past State soldiers setting up camp. With Natra in front and the State in the back, there had been nowhere to escape. He’d been summoned by Princess Lowellmina, which he was unable to refuse. As they escorted him to her, his gait took on the heavy steps of a criminal about to face his execution. He began to think he’d rather walk down that road forever, but his prayers went unanswered. He arrived in front of a large tent.
“I’ve brought Marquis Antgadull.”
“Come in.”
At this beckoning, he entered the tent, where three people waited for him: Wein, Lowellmina, and the governor of the State.
“I, Antgadull, am at your service…” He took a knee before Lowellmina.
As he looked at the ground, in his mind, his future flashed before his eyes. There were many paths it could take. And most ended in his death.
What do I do? What in the world do I do…? His mind was spinning.
Wasn’t there some way out? Something. Anything—
It was then that he caught sight of Wein looking directly at him.
“Well then, let us get started—” Lowellmina began.
“Your Imperial Highness!” Grinahae cut her off forcefully. “Before that, please answer me just one question!”
“Marquis Antgadull! Know your place!” the governor reprimanded.
“I don’t mind… What is your question for me?”
Grinahae took a deep breath and looked at Wein. “Why is the crown prince of Natra here…?!”
He stubbornly pressed on. “This is Imperial land! And yet the crown prince of Natra is present with his armed forces! Doesn’t this display intent to invade?!”
He planned to verbally attack Wein. That was the means of escape that Grinahae had spotted. If Wein lost a legitimate reason to be here, Grinahae thought the prince would no longer be in a position to judge him.
Of course, if everyone here was conspiring together, it wouldn’t matter if it was legit or not—although he’d somehow managed to zero in on a sore spot, for Wein and Lowellmina were scheming together, but the governor was not.
“Of all the things to say.”
But of course, the pair weren’t the type to be negligent in laying groundwork for the governor.
“I’d been wondering why you would bring these soldiers and fail to send correspondence. Did you come here without knowing anything, Marquis Antgadull?” the governor asked.
“Wh-what do you mean…?”
The governor sighed, giving him a once-over with exasperation. “It’s obvious why His Royal Highness is here. Natra will be joining the Empire for a military exercise, after all.”
“ What?”
“I suppose they’ll be starting the exercise right around now,” Imperial Ambassador Teord Talum murmured in contemplation in the palace in Natra.
“If it’s going according to plan, the forces of Natra, Antgadull, and the State should be gathered together by this point,” Ninym responded. “We cannot thank you enough for your support.”
“Think nothing of it. It would be a great loss for Princess Lowellmina and Prince Wein’s meeting to come to nothing because of Lord Geralt’s accident.”
Talum had traveled across many of the provinces during his career as a diplomat. And during his time, he’d made the acquaintance of the governor of the Gairan State. Armed with this information, Wein had selected him as the middleman for negotiations with the governor and formed a plan to hold a joint military exercise. Because of this, Natra had been granted legal right to enter Imperial land. It was in no way grounds for censure.
And the pretext for this was to attend to Lowellmina’s selfish desires. In the public, she was known as a tomboy who’d invited herself to Natra, pining for Wein and even going so far as to follow him onto the battlefield. Which is why her insistence on coming all this way to see Wein in command didn’t seem particularly unnatural.
“About the gold mine in our earlier discussion…”
“Not to worry, Ambassador Talum. The crown prince is a person of action, not words. Your cooperation will be rewarded.”
They’d used the gold as a bargaining chip to rouse Talum. They’d planned for the Empire to take management of the mine sooner or later. It wasn’t exactly a tearful good-bye.
“I see. Well, in that case, all that’s left is to wait for his safe return.”
“You’re right,” Ninym agreed with a light smile.
“A…military…exercise…”
What are they going on about? thought Grinahae.
He hadn’t heard anything about that. But one look at the governor, and he knew he hadn’t told him a lie.
“Of all the ridiculous…”
It wasn’t something that could be achieved in a day or two. One would have to think ahead and prepare.
In other words, Wein had everything planned out by the time he’d arrived at the mansion.
Persuade Grinahae. Or fail and flee to attack Grinahae with the armies of Natra and the State. It was well scripted. Wein had even thought to use military exercises as a pretext.
“Could…this…actually…happen…?”
He considered retaliating. That alone was not a complete impossibility. However, everything was in the palm of someone else’s hand. A boy over two decades younger than him had seen right past his thoughts and actions.
No matter what I do, I’ll never win. And when he accepted this, all strength left his body.
Just as he was about to collapse, Wein grabbed onto him, darting to his side.
“…You look unwell, Marquis Antgadull.” Lowellmina’s voice was clear and beautiful yet cold as a guillotine. “My apologies, Governor. Could you prepare the military exercise with only the forces of Natra and the State?”
“With no soldiers and their commander in this condition, I suppose.” The governor nodded and left the tent.
As soon as he disappeared, Lowellmina spoke up. “Well, what do you intend to do now?”
“…What do I intend to do?”
“I don’t particularly care either way.”
Even Grinahae could infer that Lowellmina was telling him to choose if he wanted to live or die. She was asking him—the one who’d tossed out a deal like scrap paper, going back on his word to attempt to capture Wein.
She was extending him the last bit of compassion.
“I—I…”
I wanted to be a great man.
But he knew this was impossible.
Then, at the very least, he wanted to sully the history of heroes. But if even that was too much for him.
What was left?
“I ask for your benevolence, Your Imperial Highness—”
The only thing Grinahae could do was bow his head.
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