19
They walked back directly toward the Crystal Palace, showing themselves on the main thoroughfare of the capital of Lupghana. It was Vincent’s choice, his declaration of victory: Balleroy Temeglyph had fallen, the Insect Cage Clan had been vanquished, and the rebellion had ended in failure.
“ ”
The first reaction of the denizens of the capital who saw the emperor coming down the main street was one of disbelief. That was to be expected. For His Imperial Majesty, despite his composure, was drenched in blood, and his already pale cheeks were nearly bloodless. If it had not been broad daylight, people might have taken him for a lost, wandering hollow.
But the citizenry soon recovered, kneeling before the emperor as he walked along at a casual pace. The impulse spread, person by person, until everyone in the vicinity of the main street had come to bow their head or bend their knee.
“Wow” was Ferris’s very succinct summation of the feelings evoked by this display.
Vincent nearly smiled before his expression shifted to his customary sneer instead as he turned to Ferris. “This is the fear of an emperor, the way my realm ought to respond to me.”
“The way they ought to respond? You mean the way they’re all cowering because they’re so afraid of you?”
“If one seeks to rule others, power and fear are the fastest and most certain methods. Even in this bloodied state, no one would dare do so much as pitch a rock at their emperor.”
“…No one would have thrown a rock at the king, either—because they loved him too much,” Ferris said, quickly looking away, but Vincent just snorted. Anyone listening to them might have thought their differences of opinion went all the way to the very tops of their respective nations. The king of Lugunica was loved by his people, while the emperor of Volakia was feared by his. Which was really the better way to rule, only history would tell. One thing was certain, however: Vincent, appearing before his people with barely enough blood in his veins and hardly any strength in his muscles, still cut an impressive figure. The slender man showed no hesitation and refused to lean on anyone.
“I’ll let you entertain His Majesty,” Reinhard murmured, largely ignoring the conversation as he scanned the area vigilantly. “Though, I doubt even the emperor’s enemies would make a move with so many witnesses around.”
Reinhard had fought a rearguard action against more than fifty Insect Cage Clan members, yet he had emerged without so much as a bruise to speak of on his body, nor a stain worth mentioning on his outfit. When he had rejoined the others, his report that he had not killed a single assassin was both heartening and terrifying. Those feelings were, of course, airy and fleeting when compared with how encouraging it was to have him for an ally.
“Balleroy had to be our foes’ trump card, and he has fallen. I would be surprised if they had anything or anyone more powerful in store, but…I wouldn’t be surprised if they were racing to eliminate all traces of their treachery at this very moment,” Julius said.
“You believe they would recuse themselves now?”
“I believe this is their last opportunity to do so, if they want to minimize the damage. With Your Majesty as our ally, your enemies risk turning the entire empire against themselves.”
Speed had been of the essence in this rebellion. With Balleroy defeated and what was known of their plans in shambles, it would not advantage whoever was behind this to persist in trying to seize power. They could either destroy the evidence of their misdeeds or flee to a foreign country. It seemed likely to be one of the two.
“Ferri would not be happy about that after he got shot because of them.”
“Without your brave deed, we would never have avoided war. I am proud to call you my friend.”
“And that’s supposed to be my reward, Julius? Ferri hears a lot about friendship from you, but you ought to know you can’t be Ferri’s friend that easily.”
Julius caught the desolate whisper, as well as its true meaning. For Ferris, the word friend was a heavy one. It was not a declaration to be made lightly.
As they spoke, they went along a roadway thronged with citizens showing their loyalty, then through the castle gates. They pushed past a crowd of trembling imperial soldiers and at last returned to the Crystal Palace, whereupon…
“Is it true? His Majesty has returned?!” When the group entered the great hall of the palace with Vincent at their head, they heard a bellowing voice. On the second floor of the room stood a fearsome man in golden armor, a scowl on his battle-scarred face. When this man saw the emperor there below him, he descended the steps with a speed that belied his size and came to kneel before Vincent. “Your Majesty, thank the heavens you’re safe! The vassals are here! The foot soldiers are here! I have been overseeing them with all my heart!!”
“Silence, you ape. Or have you forgotten how I told you that every time you open your mouth, you embarrass the empire? You were to keep it shut. My imperial dignity is at its lowest ebb this day.”
“Sir! But—Your Majesty! There is still unrest in the castle…”
“This is twice now. Shut your mouth, Goz Ralphone.”
Thus, Vincent silenced the burly giant, Goz Ralphone, one of the Nine Divine Generals. The gold-armored man seemed to shrink into himself as the emperor regarded him with a cold, cutting gaze. “To trust this matter to you lot would bring any authority the empire has crashing to earth. Therefore, I myself declare: The purported death of Balleroy of the Nine Divine Generals and all that has happened to my person were the work of plotters who sought to pin everything on the Royal Knights of Lugunica. Balleroy joined forces with these shameless traitors and sought after my life. Though, he has since shuffled off this mortal coil.”
“…! Balleroy—did he really do such a thing?” Goz said, trembling.
“It pains me to say it, but all is as His Majesty has told you.” This assurance came from someone stepping forth from behind Vincent—an old man who had come from outside the Crystal Palace. Several imperial soldiers were with him, and at his appearance, Vincent crossed his slim arms.
“So you’re here, Belstetz. How unusual to see the Imperial Prime Minister leading men under arms himself.”
The old man met Vincent’s venomous tone with a calm shake of his head. “How could I fail to rouse these old bones to action, Your Majesty, when I heard you had been kidnapped?”
Given what had been heard of his name and title, there could be no mistake that this man was Belstetz Fondalphon, the Imperial Prime Minister. If the Nine Divine Generals were the zenith of the nation’s military, the prime minister similarly stood at the height of its bureaucracy. As the man who oversaw the country’s entire administration, he was truly second in power only to the emperor. Which made it all the stranger he hadn’t been seen in the audience chamber before…
“First and foremost, Your Majesty, let me express my boundless joy at your safe return. And to these knights who surely exerted every effort to see you here safely, my equally boundless gratitude.”
“Enough with the pleasantries, old man. Tell us what you’re really saying and tell us quickly,” Vincent said.
Belstetz looked as bothered as if a cool breeze had blown past him. “You are indeed a man who prizes brevity, Your Majesty. But undue haste may work against that for which we have striven. I urge you to remember as much.”
“You dare to admonish your emperor? Know that it will be your last act of public service, you senile dog. I shall tell you a second time. Speak, and quickly.”
“Far be it from me to admonish your revered personage, Your Majesty.” Vincent’s gaze grew colder, but Belstetz met him with cunning. “I tell you only that we have here the conclusion of rushed plans.”
As the emperor furrowed his brow at this response, the prime minister motioned one of his personal guard forward. He held a wooden box in his arms, which he offered up to Vincent. Reaching out toward the container, Belstetz opened the lid.
“Urgh!” The exclamation at the box’s contents came from Ferris. But it was an understandable reaction. Julius, standing beside the demi-human, frowned at what he saw.
Inside the box was the head of a middle-aged man. It had been severed at the neck, the face contorted into a look of profound regret. Vincent, inspecting the pale and bloodless face, looked at Belstetz with one eye closed.
“I humbly present Your Majesty the head of Viscount Glamdart Holstoy, a retainer whose heart brimmed with treachery. All that has happened was at Holstoy’s instigation. He confessed to everything in a written note before throwing himself on his sword at his private residence.”
“You do indeed work quickly, Belstetz.”
“I confess there were some rather intense moments after the report of General Temeglyph’s death arrived. When I heard a sky dragon had arrived at Holstoy’s mansion shortly thereafter, it was only natural to question one of his people about the goings-on at the house. I apologize to Your Majesty for acting on my own initiative.”
“Your initiative was very much in view when I praised your quick work.” Vincent took a piece of paper that Belstetz offered him. He glanced at it, then looked back at the head in the box. “You say everything that has happened was conceived inside this head?”
“Indeed. Regicide, to be blamed on the knights from Lugunica; followed by the seizure of the throne in the name of punishing the killers. His ambitions were, one might say, imperial—they lacked only the proper forethought.”
“You believe that despite the fact that he was able to turn one of the Nine Divine Generals to his cause?”
“What else could be said of a rebellion that has failed?”
Belstetz’s unflinching opinion seemed to conclude everything in Julius’s mind. The diplomatic mission from Lugunica had been cleared of all charges, their innocence proven. War between the empire and the kingdom had been avoided. The matter had been resolved. So why did his skin prickle so?
The source of unrest was unmistakably coming from Vincent. Without relaxing in the slightest, the emperor let out an audible breath. “Ahem—Belstetz.”
“Your Majesty,” Belstetz replied with a smile. “What is your imperial will?”
“I order you: Do not move.” With his right hand, the emperor silently grasped a scabbard that suddenly appeared, floating in midair.
“ ”
From the hovering scabbard, he drew out a sword, straight and true, crimson as a garnet from the hilt to the edge. It was a blade of blades, beautiful, so lovely as to captivate any onlookers. And without a moment’s hesitation, the emperor pressed it, of all places, against the neck of Belstetz, who stood still as a stone.
The sword’s speed and finely honed cutting edge could easily have sent the old man’s head flying. Yet the crimson sword tasted no blood. Belstetz, rather than being beheaded, continued to smile. The old man slowly touched a hand to his own neck. “Such a jest is most unlike Your Majesty.”
“The Bright Sword is not such a trivial thing as to be drawn in jest. It cuts what we wish to cut, and it consumes with flames what we wish to burn. Behold.”
Suddenly, fire erupted from the sword in the emperor’s hand and leaped to the box in the soldier’s hands. The man dropped the box, but it did not so much as singe the carpet, for the flames had not touched the wooden compartment but consumed only the thing inside. The head of the man who, the emperor had been told, was treacherous to his liege had been burned up completely, returned to ash.
“Truly, the Bright Sword shines only for those fit to occupy the imperial throne,” Belstetz said, his eyes narrowed. “It is indeed beautiful and terrible.”
“With its flames, the blade tests those who would wield it. But there is a way to handle it,” Vincent said, giving a flourish of the sword. Then he held it out to Belstetz, pommel first, smiling as the prime minister looked down at it. “Would you try it? Don’t you wish to know if your old bones could rule an empire?”
“…Again, you jest, Your Majesty. Such aspirations are beyond this feeble, aged flesh.” The prime minister bowed at the waist, pointedly not laying a finger on the Bright Sword and excusing himself from the opportunity to challenge the blade. “You may entrust me with cleaning up the mess that has resulted from these events. You, Your Majesty, should think first of your own health.”
Then with a word to his soldiers, Belstetz collected the ashes of the head and withdrew. Watching them go, Julius felt his shoulders slump. Beside him, Ferris was smiling with evident relief. “Wh-why were things so tense just now? Aren’t they suppurrsed to be friends?”
“Many things can happen within a castle’s walls. Perhaps outsiders like us will never be able to know exactly what. Reinhard… I admire you for not getting involved.”
“Because there was murder in His Majesty’s blade, yes, but I saw he did not truly intend it.”
“How could you tell…?” Ferris asked, furrowing his shapely brow.
Julius had likewise perceived that Vincent’s swing of the Bright Sword had contained the readiness to kill, but Reinhard, it seemed, had seen something more. Of those there, perhaps only he, Vincent himself, and Belstetz—standing still as a stone—had understood there would be no murder in that room.
“Hmph. And to think, I very nearly had the tiger by the tail,” Vincent muttered teasingly after the prime minister had disappeared from view. He casually released his grip on the Bright Sword, and the crimson blade disappeared as if swallowed up by the same thin air it had come from.
This legendary implement, said to be passed down from one leader of the Empire of Volakia to the next, was of considerable interest to Julius. However, at that moment, Vincent’s half-heard whisper was of even more concern. The exchange between the emperor and the prime minister, the viscount’s suicide—it all pointed to one person as the true culprit…
Julius took a hesitant step forward toward Vincent. “Your Majesty, please forgive me, as what I’m about to ask is a terrible breach of etiquette, but—”
“Yes, hello, I’m here! I didn’t mean to keep you all waiting so long for my grand entrance! Your Majesty’s humble servant, Cecils Segmund, has arrived at the Crystal Palace to seek revenge on Your Imperial Majesty’s behalf!”
Julius, however, was interrupted by a voice like a bolt of lightning. A young man in a kimono appeared, rushing through the crowd in the great hall of the Crystal Palace so fast, it seemed he might scorch the ground beneath his feet. It was Cecils, a broad smile on his face and his thicket of blue hair waving.
When he discovered Julius and the others turning to him in surprise from among the ranks of imperial soldiers, he exclaimed, “Yah-hah! There you are, I’ve found you, I have located you at last! You certainly gave me the runaround—I was all over the capital looking for you after that escape. And then I get word that you’ve come back to the castle with His Majesty covered in blood. This I will not forgive, royal knights of Lugunica! To lay hands on His Majesty’s person! This rage shall be my fuel, the humiliation of my loss to you my catalyst, and together, they shall awaken the ultimate sword-fighting abilities of I, Cecils Seg—”
“Look over here, you simpleton.”
“What is this? I am at this moment delivering the greatest soliloquy of my life, such that even His Imperial Majesty could not stop—”
But even as he spoke, he turned toward Vincent, and their eyes met. When Cecils saw that it was the emperor who had spoken to him, his eyes went wide, and he stopped in midsentence.
“What?! Your Majesty, were you not lured into a cruel trap to suffer an ignoble death, your head then to be presented before me as a goad to inspire my greatest feats of swordsmanship?!”
“Truly, your clownery has reached new heights,” Vincent said with a sniff in regard to the swordsman’s dramatic outpouring. Cecils, though, was quick to recover from his shock, wheeling on Julius and the others.
“No, no, and again I say, no! It is the fortune of fortunes that His Majesty is still alive! Let us forget about the presentation of the head, then, and may Your Majesty take this opportunity to observe my technique at close range! For I will uproot these audacious royalists who make bold to appear before us—”
“ ”
“Ngha?!” The overexcited Cecils found his collar grabbed by a massive hand. It belonged to the huge, silent protector standing beside His Majesty, Goz Ralphone. Without a word, as the emperor had instructed, he shattered Cecils’s dramatic performance. The empire’s most powerful swordsman kicked his feet uselessly, like a cat held by the scruff of its neck.
“Just a moment, Goz, my friend! Why do you stop me?! Look there! Those knights stand before us, knowing the entire empire is arrayed against them! They know they would be better matched against me alone than against every man here, yet have they not chosen the dramatic, the mythical?!”
“ ”
“Why won’t you say anything, Goz?! Having that craggy face of yours glaring at me makes a body nervous, you know!”
Goz, unperturbed by Cecils’s midair struggle, glanced in Vincent’s direction. The emperor nodded, just. Permission to speak, one supposed.
“…This overheated talk of yours is nothing new, so I’ll let it go—but you need to calm down.”
“How can I calm down?! There they are, even the very red-haired one against whom I bear such a grudge! You can’t imagine the look the swordsmith gave me when I went to get my first- and second-best swords back. If I’m not to use them now, then when?!”
“I admire your enthusiasm, but His Majesty already has things well in hand. Read my lips: It’s all over.”
“Er?” Cecils had been so itching to draw his weapons that it looked as if he had received a most unexpected blow. The man appeared more and more shaken as he was given a broad outline of what had happened. Finally, he looked around at them vacantly, his gaze settling on Reinhard. “Um, then what about settling things between us?”
“I’m afraid I’ll have to ask that it be another time,” Reinhard responded with a wry smile. “Perhaps when I’m not in…this situation.” He tapped a finger against the collar around his neck.
“Ahh, yes indeed,” Cecils said, nodding. “But—doesn’t that mean I am wholly and truly outmatched?!”
The despairing cry of the empire’s strongest swordsman concluded the special diplomatic mission between the Empire of Volakia and the Kingdom of Lugunica.
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