Wortenia Senki (LN) - Volume 15 - Chapter Ep

Epilogue

It had been two months since Ryoma Mikoshiba took over northern Rhoadseria. He was gradually growing used to the paperwork and was slowly becoming confident in his abilities as a governor.

One afternoon, a man appeared before Ryoma. The man had ridden out from Pireas, pausing for neither sleep nor rest, and his body reeked of sweat. Despite this, he was ushered to Ryoma’s office as soon as he arrived.

The man looked to be in his thirties. His appearance was quite average—he had the sort of face one could find anywhere—and his most striking feature was that he was a bit full, though by no means fat. One could pass him by and not notice his presence. That made him the perfect candidate for delivering secret messages.

The man took out a letter from his pocket and handed it to Ryoma.

“I was wondering when I’d get this,” Ryoma said after a long pause. “It definitely came later than I expected.”

The letter was sealed with a black-colored wax. Ryoma didn’t need to check its contents, though. In truth, the letter was probably meaningless.

The messenger didn’t understand what Ryoma meant. “It was late?” he murmured, taken aback.

Ryoma glanced at the man, his eyes seeing right through him. Ryoma was, in fact, judging the value of this reserved man. Was he really just a mere messenger, or was he something more?

Well, if the count picked him, it must mean that he trusts this person. But...is he really trustworthy?

The man did seem honest and reliable, and Count Bergstone wouldn’t have entrusted such a precious letter to a vassal he didn’t swear by. Nonetheless, the man didn’t seem very intelligent. No one would call him dumb, but he couldn’t read the room.

Despite being trusted with important information, he openly displayed interest in the letter he’d delivered. Ryoma could understand a messenger being curious as to what they were carrying, and had this been an ordinary letter, Ryoma wouldn’t have minded this plain, ordinary courier.

But he came here secretly, meaning he’s probably a spy or an operative for Count Bergstone’s family. He should be more than an amateur, if nothing else.

Count Bergstone had given this man work that needed to be done discreetly and behind the scenes, and judging by the man’s appearance, it was clear that he’d been ordered to deliver this message as soon as he could. He’d chosen not to rest at an inn and fix his appearance before he showed himself to Ryoma, so he must have known the letter he carried was of the utmost importance.

On the other hand, people in the underworld thought it was careless to ask about a letter’s contents.

They say all things are good in moderation, and that’s exactly right.

One should always be aware of how far to take things, and knowing too much could cost one their life.

No, maybe I’ve got it wrong. Maybe he’s pretending to react while knowing this?

The man had a sincere, frank face, but on closer inspection, it was the face of a beast lying in wait to pounce on its prey. Perhaps Count Bergstone had sent him for good reason.

Still, why did he ask that?

If it was simple curiosity, Ryoma could understand that. It threw his validity as a spy into question, but Ryoma could simply report this to Count Bergstone and make sure that this man wasn’t trusted with any more important information going forward. But if it wasn’t just curiosity, it was a major issue.

Did he do it on a whim? Did Count Bergstone order him to say it? No, the chances of either of those are slim. And moreover...

Ryoma may have conquered northern Rhoadseria, but his control of the region wasn’t stable yet. He couldn’t afford any unplanned situations, especially not when he knew that an organization manipulating the continent from the shadows was at large.

Caution is necessary.

In his short exchange with the messenger, Ryoma concluded that, considering what was to come, removing any uncertain factors could be crucial.

“I’ve received the letter,” Ryoma said, thanking the man with a smile. “Give Count Bergstone my regards.”

♱

“Mr. Sudou told me about him, but that man truly is something else. I’ve heard jokes of how the Japanese are all descended from ninjas, but maybe there’s some truth to that. I can’t believe he acclimated to this hellhole of a world this easily.”

After leaving the estate, the man, whose name was Karl Ackerman, glanced back at the large castle looming over him. His eyes shone with a cold intelligence much different from the plain expression he’d worn earlier.

A few decades ago, Karl had been a normal medical student, but when he was summoned from Berlin, Germany, to a small country that had once existed in this world, any sense of normalcy disappeared.

A month after Karl was summoned, the O’ltormea Empire destroyed the country that had summoned him. Karl had honestly contemplated suicide after that. Had O’ltormea eradicated this country a month sooner, he wouldn’t have been pulled into this world. It was enough to make him want to end it all. Of course, that country had only gambled on summoning someone because O’ltormea had threatened to invade, but that didn’t give Karl any comfort.

After fleeing the burning castle with nothing but the clothes on his back, Karl had moved from place to place for safety. He didn’t engage in sports or martial arts, instead doing all he could to escape the winds of war. One day, as he squatted in an alleyway in a small town along the O’ltormean border, he met Sudou. Through him, Karl became involved with the organization made up of otherworlders and their descendants.

Ever since then, despite not being good at dirty work, Karl had used his plain, unassuming appearance as a weapon. Some ninjas in Japan’s Warring States period had used the same tactic. Their activities had been incredibly varied, but they’d lived covertly within enemy territory, gathering information as they participated in the day-to-day life there. Occasionally they would engage in sabotage or assassination.

That said, my work isn’t anything like one of those spies in the movies.

Karl had seen German spy films before, where the protagonists honed vast, versatile skill sets; engaged in exciting firefights; mastered martial arts; and, perhaps most important of all, charmed the ladies. Karl had once admired such movie characters, but he’d eventually realized that they didn’t reflect reality whatsoever.

To begin with, Karl’s job was nowhere near that dangerous. He’d been ordered to infiltrate the Kingdom of Rhoadseria, one of the three kingdoms in the east of the western continent.

Looking back on it, those days were dull and boring. And I used to hate that tedium.

The Organization primarily operated within the O’ltormea Empire and its surrounding countries, but that didn’t mean it was cooperating with the empire per se. The Organization saw O’ltormea as a useful tool, and that tool required daily maintenance. After all, constant use could wear out its parts and even break it. Sometimes, in that instance, one could just exchange it. But some tools weren’t so easily replaced, and after investing so much money and time into the empire, the Organization felt that O’ltormea was irreplaceable.

Honestly speaking, Karl’s job wasn’t to infiltrate the heart of Rhoadseria and expose its secrets. He was merely there to gather intelligence. He wasn’t even supposed to sniff out secret information, but rather miscellaneous news and tidbits from Rhoadseria’s everyday life—the weather on certain days, the market prices, the marriages among nobles, and the like.

Karl served Count Bergstone, yes, but after House Bergstone lost a power struggle in the court years ago, it was doubtful if any information Bergstone had would be valuable. In fact, Karl had only chosen to serve Count Bergstone’s house because it was on the verge of collapse and the background checks they performed on new hires were cursory.

After all, who would snoop around a failing noble house? There was no reason for any of the family to be cautious. No one would reinforce the security on an empty vault. Plus, any talented people in service to a failing noble would pursue greener pastures. Indeed, most of Count Bergstone’s servants had abandoned him like rats fleeing a sinking ship.

This had given Karl the perfect chance to gain Count Bergstone’s trust despite being a new hire and the maneuverability he needed to do his job. Once he’d gained a solid footing, the rest had been simple. He only relayed the information he’d gained once a month, so all in all, it was easy work.

That was all a thing of the past, though. His situation had changed and become much more stressful over the last few years.

The reason for that is clear as day.

It was Ryoma Mikoshiba.

Having spent more than a decade serving Count Bergstone, Karl had gradually built up trust with him. To demonstrate how trusted he was, just six months ago, he’d been allowed to marry the daughter of the family’s housekeeper, who had served the count for many years. For a relatively new servant, this was quite generous. After all, the housekeeper managed Count Bergstone’s estate in his place. Compared to Japanese history, this was like a wandering warrior marrying the daughter of a great daimyo’s retainer.

Just a few days ago, the Organization had ordered Karl to look into the northern strip, which was now part of the Mikoshiba barony.

At first, I thought him burning down the ten houses’ domains and flooding Epirus with refugees was simply to create unrest and eat through the soldiers’ rations, but it seems he had some other reason.

Karl thought back to what he saw on the roads to Epirus—soldiers clad in black armor leading groups of farmers away. He’d only realized the meaning behind it when he stepped into Epirus proper.

He gathered them all there to take a census and organize the farming districts. Anyone who doesn’t accept his rule is banished from his domain. His aim is obvious.

Of course, since governors collected taxes, there was some form of registry in this world, but it was very basic. The most they did was write down the number of men and women living in each village, but they didn’t keep track of individual citizens’ names and genders. However, the system Ryoma Mikoshiba had in mind was far beyond that. It allotted each individual their own identification number, much like the countries of his world did.

It’s a fine idea. Any person who knows about modern society would have done this. But there’s a major issue with his plan. This isn’t our old world. Does Mikoshiba understand that?

Creating the world Ryoma sought was impossible with this world’s technology, which was much less advanced no matter how one looked at it. Except for thaumaturgy, its technology was comparable to the Middle Ages. There was no internet, phones, or radios. The only way to deliver information was by hand, messenger pigeons, or smoke signals. The communication infrastructure was just too primitive.

On the other hand, this world did have one way to fix this problem, and the technology was already implemented. Actually, it was so deeply ingrained in people’s daily lives that they completely overlooked it.

Well, I have a hard time believing he doesn’t have some idea. He’s probably looking to use the guild’s technology.

Ryoma would have to either steal it or negotiate for it. Given the guild’s vast influence, stealing it by force would be a bad idea. He might temporarily defeat and take over a single branch of the guild, but the guild spanned the entire continent. They would eventually crush him with sheer numbers.

Karl knew one thing for certain, though.

If he isn’t terribly stupid, he’ll opt to negotiate for it. But there’s one thing he doesn’t expect. Or maybe... No, that’s just meaningless conjecture.

Karl had a hunch, but nothing more. Either way, it was hard to tell at present which option Ryoma would pick, but sooner or later he’d try to contact the guild.

The big question was how the Organization would react. Unless they were ordered otherwise, the guild would probably assent to Ryoma’s request. The guild would earn a lot from the monster ingredients it would receive from Wortenia. And now that northern Rhoadseria was under Ryoma’s control, the Christof Company’s reach had expanded. The guild would be willing to negotiate if it meant they’d get a slice of that pie when it was still fresh. And if all they had to do was hand over their technology...

The Organization wouldn’t accept that, but the guild that served as their front might not feel the same way. All the same, there wasn’t much Karl could do about it on his own; he had no relation with the guild. There was only one thing he could do.

“I need to contact Mr. Sudou,” Karl whispered to himself as he hastened his steps. He soon passed through the walls of Epirus and began hurrying down the road south.

Karl failed to notice the gaze fixed on him from the shadows.

♱

Karl didn’t realize that he was being followed until about two hours after he left Epirus. Using martial thaumaturgy to reinforce his legs, he’d already traveled some forty or fifty kilometers to the south.

He was inside a forest covered in thick foliage. The sun was beginning to dip into the horizon, and there was no sign of anyone else walking along the highway. It was a perfect place to stage an attack.

Dammit... I let my guard down.

Karl had hurried so that he could report to Sudou as quickly as possible, but now he found himself in needless trouble. He’d neglected to mind his surroundings, and that had come back to bite him.

Blast! Who is this?! How long have they been following me? If they’re just bandits, I can fight my way out alone, but...

Karl hadn’t had any special training as a spy, but he’d seen his share of carnage since coming to this world. Thanks to his otherworlder physiology that allowed him to absorb more prana from anything he slew, he soon gained the power of martial thaumaturgy. He could only activate his first chakra, the Muldahara chakra, but that gave him enough to engage in battle. He could fight off four or five bandits with ease, and if there were fewer than ten, he could break through them and run. However, if his pursuers weren’t mere bandits, he could be in trouble.

Things might be difficult with just this weapon.

He carried a longsword strapped to his waist for self-defense. If he’d known that he would need to fight, he would’ve brought a bow or a short spear. He would’ve at least worn leather armor or chain mail, but his current mission didn’t call for that. His job was simply to deliver an urgent message, so he’d decided to travel light. That decision now worked against him.

Just as that thought crossed his mind, Karl felt something skirt by his cheek.

“They attacked without warning?!”

He didn’t know what had flown past him, but the intention behind it was clear. The enemy realized that Karl had noticed their pursuit and decided to preemptively attack.

For now, I have to hide.

Karl broke into a run, moving from the highway into the trees. Since the highway was built for traveling, it was open and offered plenty of visibility, but if his attackers could see where he was going, Karl would never manage to escape.

Here’s to hoping I got away. Please don’t let there be any monsters around!

Leaving the highway meant stepping outside of the barrier pillars’ protection. And Karl had run into the woods, where monsters might be lurking. They weren’t as ferocious as the ones on the Wortenia Peninsula, and they weren’t a threat to someone who could use martial thaumaturgy, but there were no guarantees. At worst, he could run into a monster that equaled a natural disaster. Nonetheless, leaving the highway to hide in the forest was his only way to survive.

Having run into the woods, Karl quickly took cover behind a large tree.

Who sent these people? Are they from the Mikoshiba barony?

He slowly looked around. The silence hanging over the woods was palpable, and his labored breathing sounded terribly loud in his ears.

Unfortunately, it seemed his hope that he’d escaped was wishful thinking, because something else skimmed past his face with a whistling sound. He somehow deflected it with his sword, but a second shot hidden behind the first gouged into his arm.

Sensing a third shot on its way to finish him off, Karl somehow managed to avoid it. The projectile, which looked like two cross-shaped blades stacked together, pierced the large tree. The weapon itself was unfamiliar in this world, but Karl knew what it was. He’d never seen it in real life before, but he’d seen it many times on the silver screen.

Isn’t this a shiho shuriken?!

Karl felt a chill run down his spine. His body shivered, and he felt the strength drain from his limbs. He leaned against the tree, desperately trying to stay on his feet, but little by little, all the strength left his body and he collapsed to the ground.

Right. Shiho shurikens usually mean...

The most famous shiho shurikens, also known as flat shurikens or windmill-shaped shurikens, were mostly known as weapons ninjas used. In anime and manga, they were mostly depicted as spinning projectiles. Yet the truth was that flat shurikens were hardly lethal. Rod shurikens had more penetrating power. Still, flat shurikens were preferred because they were accurate and easy to master. After all, the rod shuriken only had one sharp point—the tip. Some variants had tips on both sides, but flat shurikens had four, making them four times more likely to damage their target. Nevertheless, given its shape, a flat shuriken didn’t penetrate flesh that deeply, making it less lethal than the rod shuriken.

Because of the weapon’s limitations, those who wielded flat shurikens often applied poison to them. Karl knew that, but he’d never imagined he would experience it firsthand. Before long, his entire body went numb.

As Karl started spasming, a shadow wearing a face mask appeared behind him. Based on the outline of their body, the figure was a woman. Another black figure emerged on her right, and two others appeared to surround Karl.

Judging by their physiques, the last three were men, and based on their attitude, there were more waiting in the forest. Apparently, a large number of people had been sent after Karl.

“Lady Sakuya...” one of the shadows said to the woman standing behind him.

The woman nodded briskly and began rummaging through Karl’s clothes for something that might clarify his identity.

I know the lord has keen intuition, but is this man really some kind of spy? Sakuya thought.

Sakuya had direct orders from Gennou to go after Karl. Without a doubt, if Gennou was right and an enemy spy had infiltrated Count Bergstone’s ranks, it would be a major issue. However, Sakuya had some misgivings about the fact that Karl was under suspicion because of Ryoma’s gut feeling.

I’ll fulfill my orders no matter what, of course...

As soon as that thought crossed her mind, her hand touched something.

There’s something hidden in his clothes, around the stomach.

She pulled the object up, revealing an inner pocket. She opened it and found a piece of rolled up parchment—a map. It was a highly detailed map of the northern regions with notes jotted down in letters Sakuya didn’t recognize.

I see. These letters are probably some kind of cipher. If he’s hiding something like this, the lord was right.

Feeling guilty for doubting Ryoma, Sakuya reached into a sack hanging from her waist and took out a small pill. She pulled Karl’s body up from the ground and forced the pill into his mouth. One of the other figures handed her a leather water sack, and Sakuya used it to force Karl to ingest the pill.

“We have a lot to ask you,” Sakuya said. “And we’ll ask you over and over until you start being honest.”

Karl went pale with fright. He was scared of the torture ahead of him, but he was more worried about the fact that they were outside the barrier pillars. The scent of blood could draw monsters.

“S-Stop... This is...the middle of...the forest...” he muttered, trying to warn them of the danger even though his lips were numb.

“Don’t worry about that,” Sakuya said with a cold smile. “There are ten to twenty trained Igasaki ninjas spread out around the area. Forget the monsters. Even if your people tried to attack us and take you back, we’d defeat them.”

Her smile was much more menacing than anything Sakuya had ever shown Ryoma.

“So rest easy,” she said softly. “We’ve got plenty of time to loosen your tongue.”

With that, Sakuya drew a dagger from her hip.

♱

That night, Ryoma felt the faint presence of someone approaching him, which roused him from his sleep. It was two hours past midnight, a time when the world was fully asleep. Confirming that the dagger and chain he left under his pillow were still there, Ryoma quietly waited to see what his unknown visitor would do.

That said, even though Ryoma didn’t have Epirus fully under his control yet, he was in Count Salzberg’s estate, the single most heavily defended place in the city. He also had the Igasaki clan’s skilled ninjas keeping watch on his room. Not even Ryoma’s closest aides, like Lione and Boltz, could enter his room that easily. His guards would intercept any invader, so the possibility that the intruder was an assassin was absurdly slim.

But despite all the security, Ryoma remained vigilant. No matter how well guarded he was, carelessness could render it all useless. History had taught Ryoma that very well.

I wouldn’t want to meet the same end as Nobunaga Oda.

Nobunaga Oda was a grand conqueror in Japan’s Warring States period who’d etched his name into Japan’s history. But just as he was on the verge of unifying Japan, he met a tragic end in Honnoji Temple in Kyoto at the hands of one of his lieutenants, Mitsuhide Akechi.

There were still many mysteries surrounding the Honnoji Incident. It was said that, at the time, Nobunaga’s army—including the forces of his son, Nobutada—was fewer than a thousand men, a force too small for a man on the cusp of unifying the land. House Oda had half of Japan under its control, so if Nobunaga had wanted, he could have had tens of thousands of soldiers guarding him.

It was hard to tell if Nobunaga had predicted Mitsuhide’s treachery. House Oda controlled Kyoto at the time, so perhaps he had. But then again, he might not have seen the betrayal coming, so it was difficult to determine if his choice to keep his force small was careless. Still, one could handle even unforeseen developments by preparing for any contingency beforehand, so the fact that Nobunaga didn’t see it coming was no excuse.

Ryoma saw it as conceit and carelessness on Nobunaga’s part. It was proof that there was no such thing as impenetrable security. Nobunaga had probably thought to the very end that no one could possibly oppose him.

The only one who can keep me totally safe is me.

The important thing was to never rule out any possibility.

A shadow stirred in the corner of the room, and Ryoma heard someone say, “Milord, my apologies for coming in so late.”

“Gennou?” Ryoma asked as he turned in his bed.

“Yes. I come bearing a report.”

“About what I asked you to handle? How did it go?”

“Your suspicions were correct. We dealt with him as per your orders.”

Ryoma clicked his tongue.

It’s the hunches you hope are wrong that end up being right on the money.

Ryoma understood why Gennou hadn’t waited until morning and instead came straight away to make the report, but at this rate, he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep without first hearing what Gennou had to say.

Dammit. They say a lack of sleep damages your looks.

“I see,” Ryoma replied. “I’m sure Wortenia’s monsters are happy to have something to snack on for a change. So, what did you learn?”

Gennou, who was kneeling in the corner of Ryoma’s room, got to his feet.

“Is now a good time?” he asked.

“Yeah, give me a minute.”

Ryoma got out of bed and lit the candle sitting on his bedside table.

“We found this on him,” Gennou said, handing over a roll of parchment.

Ryoma scanned it. It was a map of the roads in Rhoadseria’s northern regions, with Epirus at its center. It was highly detailed—good enough for military use, even. An ordinary man wouldn’t be carrying a map like this one.

Ryoma sighed. “Well, would you look at that? He really was a spy.”

Ryoma had sensed something off about the man’s words, so he’d had the messenger followed. As it turned out, he was right to do so.

I swear, they keep popping up like cockroaches.

Ryoma couldn’t be blamed for being so exasperated. Ever since he conquered Epirus, he’d been fighting a long and seemingly endless war with assorted spies skulking about the city. On top of that, O-Ume of the Igasaki clan, who was in charge of Sirius’s security, had said that the number of spies attempting to infiltrate Wortenia had almost doubled. Thankfully, Sirius’s topography was perfect for setting up a counterintelligence network that could stave off spies, but the same could not be said of Epirus and its surroundings.

Epirus’s security is fine because I have Gennou’s people taking care of it, but...

No matter how cautious and meticulous they were, information was bound to leak from somewhere. That didn’t mean they couldn’t take steps to counter it, though. An imperfect defense was no excuse to stop striving for perfection anyway. That included deciding ahead of time what they would do should any intelligence leak.

Now, the question is, who sent him?

The most likely suspects were Queen Lupis or nobles loyal to her. Be that as it may, the letters written on the map bothered him.

This is a mix of Roman and Arabic numerals.

This world’s common language was entirely different from Rearth’s. The letters and numerals were nothing alike. Thankfully, people who were summoned had some kind of translation power instilled in them, so they could speak and read. When Ryoma was summoned by the O’ltormea Empire’s court thaumaturgist, Gaius Valkland, Ryoma had been able to converse with Gaius like normal. However, this world’s people would only ever use this language.

Which means one of two things...

Ryoma suspected that people from his world were involved.

♱

Seven days had passed since Count Bergstone’s messenger went missing. A splendid carriage rolled through Epirus’s gates, guarded by knights in decorated armor. The carriage’s entourage was holding up the banner of the Rhoadserian royal family. The reason for their arrival in Epirus went without saying. Everyone across the northern regions knew why.

As the carriage advanced toward the Salzberg estate in the city’s center, the residents looked on with anxiety and fear, praying that the sparks of a new war wouldn’t blow their way.

♱

“So, this is their subpoena?” Lione asked, seated at a round table. She started reading through the document. It was written on white, high-grade paper that was pleasant to the touch.

This seems like overkill. Paper like this costs one silver for a single sheet, and they could’ve just used parchment. I guess they’re determined to stand on ceremony.

The primary writing material in this world was parchment similar in feel to tanned leather. This kind of refined paper was rare, and even parchment could be a luxury. Depending on where one lived or what their financial standing was, they might use thin sheets of wood in place of paper. It wasn’t unheard of, at least. Only the guild, a powerful presence throughout the continent, had the financial means to use paper on a day-to-day basis.

“It doesn’t say anything about what you’re charged with,” Boltz said, peering over Lione’s shoulder.

The letter just stated that Ryoma was to present himself before the House of Lords, as well as the date and time he was to do so. It was so concise that had it not been stamped by Rhoadseria’s sigil and delivered by a group of elite soldiers under the House of Lords, Lione would have doubted its authenticity.

Lione nodded. “Yeah. Honestly, I don’t know much about letters like this, but considering they’re callin’ a baron over, you’d think they’d be less...terse, I s’pose?”

As an adventurer, Lione received all manner of requests, both on and off the battlefield. She had experience patrolling noble territories and guarding aristocrats, and she’d even taken dangerous jobs like serving as a revolting noble’s private army. But she didn’t know much about society’s underworld, nor was she knowledgeable about legislation.

The only time I can remember something like this was when I was a kid and my parents couldn’t pay their taxes. The tax collector thrust a writ of execution in their faces.

She couldn’t remember the contents of the writ, just the smug, greedy smile on the tax collector’s face, as well as her parents’ tormented expressions. Lione’s parents had been forced to give away both their home and the crops they’d stored, so they’d eventually left their village to become refugees.

This was how Lione ended up becoming a mercenary. And since she’d never had a permanent residence in any one village, she wasn’t familiar with the laws. She wasn’t even registered as a citizen anywhere.

Signus Galveria had the answer to Lione’s misgivings.

“This summons is merely calling for him to serve as a witness,” he explained.

“So they’re not calling him to punish him as a criminal?” Boltz asked, surprised. “The letter Count Bergstone sent the other day said the House of Lords was now hostile toward him because of the war.”

Being called to a trial as an offender and being summoned to testify as a witness were two different things, and it went without saying which of the two was better for Ryoma.

Robert Bertrand shook his head and sighed. “Don’t make me laugh,” he spat. “There’s no way that would happen after everything Ryoma has done.”

Boltz simply shrugged. He knew it wouldn’t happen that way, not after Ryoma slew Count Salzberg and seized northern Rhoadseria. After all, almost half of the ten houses of the north—including Signus’s and Robert’s families—were wiped out. Even in this war-torn world, power struggles among governors rarely went that far.

“Robert’s right,” Signus said. “It’s unlikely the House of Lords will sit back and watch. Bonds of blood mean everything to nobles. And with all due respect, my lord, you’re a nobody who rose to status. No noble alive would ignore someone like you killing their relatives and wiping out entire noble lines, not even if they were gutless cowards who only cared about saving their own hides.”

Signus was probably resentful of the nobles, because while his tone was calmer and more polite than Robert’s, his words were almost outright insults. Signus had lived his entire life on the battlefield, so he thought that the nobles who lived safely in their domains off the tax money of their subjects were nothing more than parasites.

“So this letter is meant to lure the lad to the capital?” Boltz asked.

“It’s safe to assume that that’s exactly what it is,” Signus answered. “They probably thought that if they summoned Ryoma as the accused, he might resort to force right then and there. At that point, it would stop being a skirmish between governors and snowball into something else. Queen Lupis doesn’t want that. In which case...”

Signus turned to his new lord, who’d remained silent throughout this meeting.

“You mean they called me to the capital as a ‘witness’ so they could execute me as a criminal?” Ryoma asked.

Signus nodded gravely. “That’s probably it.”

The House of Lords was essentially the body that governed and administered justice within Rhoadseria. It was both the court and the prosecutor. The only one who could oppose their decisions was Queen Lupis. Also, they didn’t operate on any notions of fairness or true justice. They would rule Ryoma guilty no matter what, so whatever Ryoma said to defend himself in trial would be meaningless.

Nonetheless, despite the gravity of the situation, neither Ryoma nor Signus looked the slightest bit bothered.

“That’s what we expected, right?” Ryoma asked.

Everyone at the table nodded.

Ryoma slowly looked around at those in attendance. Some, like Laura and Sara, had served him for a long time, whereas others, like Robert and Signus, had only joined his side after he’d defeated Count Salzberg. Yet all of their eyes were brimming with confidence.

“All right. Let’s begin then. We have a kingdom to take over,” Ryoma said with a coolness that didn’t reflect the emotion behind his words. He said it with the same nonchalant tone he might use to announce that he was going for a walk.

♱

“Isn’t it about time they arrived?”

Charlotte Halcyon nodded at her father. “Yes, assuming there were no setbacks, they should arrive today at noon.”

“Good. It’s getting to the point where I can’t keep the more vocal nobles in check. They are outraged, but I somehow stopped them from lashing out. It’s about time we resolved this.”

Charlotte’s father, Duke Arthur Halcyon, gave a satisfied nod. Serving as the head of the House of Lords had been tiring as of late, and the reason for that was obvious. It was because of that whelp who ignored all manner of aristocratic courtesy and honor and wiped out most of the ten houses’ families. And it fell to Arthur to handle his punishment.

I swear, Queen Lupis ordered me to handle one bothersome job. It would’ve been simpler if she’d just gathered all the nobles and crushed him.

There were several hundred noble families in Rhoadseria, some small and some large. Still, gathering all of them to unite as one was practically impossible, at least for the purpose of national defense. But Queen Lupis wouldn’t need that big of an army to crush one upstart noble.

While the majority of the ten houses were wiped out during the northern rebellion, over fifty other houses had blood ties with them. They would’ve gladly pooled their militaries to form an army of over ten thousand. And if the House of Lords had sent the knight order that served them to join that army, their victory would have been assured—even against a man praised as a national hero.

This was Duke Halcyon’s stance on the matter, but his own daughter, Charlotte, had put a stop to that idea.

Was I wrong to let her serve in the royal family’s court since she was little?

Having his daughter serve as a close aide to Queen Lupis gave him a significant edge in the palace’s power struggles, that much was for sure. Charlotte’s influence was a major reason the nobles’ faction wanted Duke Halcyon on their side so badly. But her influence also came at a price. Charlotte’s wit was sharper than he’d accounted for. Of course, he didn’t want her to be ignorant, but her intelligence struck fear into the hearts of those around her, so she couldn’t find a groom. This was a major cause for concern.

More importantly, if Charlotte wanted to keep her position at Queen Lupis’s side, she had to adhere to the queen’s requests and demands with absolute obedience. On paper, Charlotte was Queen Lupis’s head court lady, but on a more personal level, Charlotte was her good friend. They had known each other since infancy, and Queen Lupis felt Charlotte was as much a friend as Meltina was. She could turn to Charlotte for support in order to withstand the pressures of being sovereign. Queen Lupis wouldn’t turn down a request from Charlotte easily, but Charlotte couldn’t refuse Queen Lupis’s demands.

Well, I decided to accept Her Majesty’s demands this time on Charlotte’s recommendation, but...

At first, Duke Halcyon had merely been concerned. Ryoma Mikoshiba was nothing more than a man with luck on his side. But he’d changed his stance when Ryoma killed Count Salzberg during the northern rebellion. He now firmly swore that Ryoma Mikoshiba had to be eliminated. The problem, however, was how to eliminate him.

“Charlotte, I have to ask one more time. Are you sure this is for the best?” Duke Halcyon questioned.

Charlotte nodded. “Yes, father. You have my apologies for the many adjustments you had to make to accommodate for this, but...”

Duke Halcyon loudly scoffed. He knew she would answer like that, but it was still unpleasant to hear.

“Very well. Things need only go according to plan after this,” Duke Halcyon said.

“Yes. Father, Her Majesty is very grateful for your assistance.”

The Duke nodded in satisfaction. After all the effort and time he’d put into this, he couldn’t afford for Queen Lupis to be displeased with him.

A smile played on Charlotte’s lips as she watched her father. She looked at him as if he were an ignorant jester dancing on the palm of her hand.