Wortenia Senki (LN) - Volume 16 - Chapter 4

Chapter 4: A Deadly Trap

At the edge of the forest surrounding Pireas’s outskirts, a carriage departed the back gate of Count Salzberg’s detached estate. The sound of its wheels grinding against the flagstones echoed in the capital’s streets.

Sitting within this carriage emblazoned with House McMaster’s emblem, Diggle McMaster sighed heavily as he looked out the window. He could see the pale moonlight shining outside, but soon thick clouds shifted to block the glow.

It feels like a symbol of Rhoadseria’s state.

When the evening party concluded, Viscount Orglen had mediated a conversation between Viscount McMaster and Ryoma Mikoshiba.

Thinking back on it, Viscount McMaster sighed again.

So that’s Ryoma Mikoshiba...

He’d heard many rumors about Ryoma before now—some good, some bad—but rumors were simply that: baseless words and nothing more. Ryoma was known as a hero and a master swordsman, but Viscount McMaster had seen many knights on the battlefield lose their heads to soldiers. He saw leaders invite so-called capable people to develop their domains, only for their foolish policies to create large holes in tax revenue.

In this world, communications were limited to runners and letters, and as such, rumors were often far from the truth. Glory could inspire fallacy too. But even with that in mind, Diggle McMaster knew that the man he met tonight was a monster who exceeded all possible expectations. There was no other way to describe him.

“I can see why Rhoadseria’s Ivory Goddess of War would side with him,” he muttered. “You don’t think he investigated us too, do you?”

“Yes,” said Rosetta McMaster, who sat opposite him. “He didn’t say anything directly, but based on his tone, I believe he knows.”

Rosetta looked like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Viscount McMaster saw a natural smile on her lips, a smile she hadn’t shown since the day she’d discarded her life as a woman.

I really did place a great burden on you, didn’t I? Viscount McMaster thought, his heart shaking with guilt.

Ever since her twin brother Grad passed away from a sudden illness, Rosetta McMaster had been forced to stop living as a woman. That didn’t mean merely adopting a mannish personality either. She changed her hairstyle, her attire, her manner of speech, and even her personality. She discarded her life to live in her brother’s stead.

A woman masquerading as a man was quite the gamble. In most people’s eyes, no matter how well a woman acted like a man, she was still a woman. She could maintain the facade for a few days or a few weeks, but doing so for years was impossible. The slightest gesture could ruin the disguise.

Nevertheless, being twins made the impossible possible, aided by the fact that Grad had passed away before reaching adolescence. So long as Rosetta minded her hairstyle and attire, she could pass as Grad.

For House McMaster, which prided itself on being warriors, an “effeminate man” was a shameful title, but this time it acted in Viscount McMaster’s favor. Of course, Rosetta hadn’t wanted to take her brother’s place, but after long deliberation, she’d concluded that they had no choice. At the time, Viscount McMaster’s only children were Grad and Rosetta.

Given how most nobles had multiple concubines, if not mistresses and lovers, to ensure their bloodline continued, this was altogether unusual. Perhaps the practice came entirely from the nobility’s arrogance and drive to expand, but it was difficult to write it off as just that. To maintain one’s family name, one needed to produce heirs who would carry on the bloodline. To do so, one had to stoop to any means necessary.

In a sense, it was like an insatiable survival instinct. Commoners, who were neither royalty nor nobility, couldn’t understand this feeling, but when it came to ensuring one’s house continued to exist, there was no better means of going about it.

Had Diggle McMaster decided not to honor his love for his legal wife and instead taken a concubine like a typical noble, Rosetta wouldn’t have to live a man’s life. But this was all a thing of the past now, and their meeting with Ryoma Mikoshiba tonight could change their entire lives.

“How much do you think he spent on this evening party?” Viscount McMaster asked.

“Probably more than our domain’s yearly tax revenue,” Rosetta replied. “The dishes and alcohol were all top-notch. And the orchestra...they were wonderful. We probably wouldn’t receive hospitality like that in the queen’s palace.”

“Yes, I doubt we would. But he didn’t just do this to welcome us, did he?”

Rosetta flashed a nasty smile. Ever since Viscount McMaster inherited his title, they’d attended many parties, but tonight was the first time they had seen so many luxuries lined up like that. Spices from the central continent had washed away the stench from monster flesh and accentuated its flavor. The patterns on the plates indicated that they were imported from the eastern continent, and they had a smoothness that added a flair to the food. To top it all off, the dessert served at the end of their course was simply perfection.

Serving sweets in an edible vessel made of sugar is an amazing concept. 

Viscount McMaster wasn’t much for sweets, but not even he could stop eating it. Fruit picked from across the continent were submerged in jelly and served in a vessel that looked like glassware crafted by a master’s hands. In addition to its vivid appearance, its flavor was beyond description.

Unlike most wealthy upstarts, who only made a show of the riches they had, there had been no obscenity or vulgarity in Ryoma’s gestures. Yes, it was a show of overwhelming economic prowess, but there was a purpose to it, and it wasn’t limited to just the food. The servants waiting on the guests were all attentive and well trained. It had been a perfect banquet and an exemplary event.

Truth be told, the fine food and drink had washed away much of Viscount McMaster’s daily fatigue, and he was still a bit high from the comfort. None of the nobles invited to tonight’s party, however, were foolish enough to openly admit that. In fact, Viscount McMaster got the feeling that only nobles smart enough to know better had been invited.

“This is obviously a threat, right?” Diggle asked.

“That probably goes without saying. What matters, father, is how you feel about it,” Rosetta answered.

Their eyes met, and it was clear that there was nothing more to be said.

By using moonlight herbs and evening dew mushrooms for the food, he implied he had an abundance of them and, by extension, a supply of nostrums. And he applied endowed thaumaturgy to the cutlery and dinnerware not just to retain the food’s warmth and flavor, but to imply he can apply thaumaturgy to items too.

Viscount McMaster had heard the rumors that the Mikoshiba barony’s soldiers were all equipped with high-grade equipment, and after tonight, it seemed that was true. With all that in mind, it felt evident that the Kingdom of Rhoadseria would eventually fall into his grasp. Viscount McMaster felt that they had no way of stopping that future from happening.

Viscount McMaster sighed and once again looked out the window, bemoaning his own future and that of his country, but the next moment, something hit his carriage and sent it flying through the air. A sense of weightlessness overcame the viscount, after which the carriage crashed into the ground with a shaking thud.

“What just...happened...?” Viscount McMaster hissed in pain.

Viscount McMaster’s back had slammed into the carriage’s canopy, knocking the air out of his lungs. It seemed he’d banged his head too.

“Rosetta... Are you all right?”

Though his vision was hazy, Viscount McMaster caught sight of Rosetta lying as still as a corpse. Just then, he heard someone forcefully tear off the carriage’s door. His mind still in a fog, Viscount McMaster reached out for his daughter, who was masquerading as his son. Then everything went black.

♱

Several silhouettes clad in leather armor and brandishing swords approached the overturned carriage. There were roughly twenty of them. Having appeared from within the woods surrounding the highway, they could’ve been bandits, but anyone who saw the way they moved would know they had military training.

“This is the crest of House McMaster, all right...” one of the men said, inspecting the emblem carved on the carriage’s door. “Just like he said, they’ve been pushed against the wall.”

A man standing next to him nodded. “Yes... Damn traitors. They forgot the dignity and pride of the nobility.” His words were steeped in hatred.

To these men, Viscount McMaster was nothing but a filthy traitor, the same as the nobles occupying the other carriages running along this highway. They had an absolute—and, in their eyes, justified—reason to attack Viscount McMaster’s carriage.

The nobles who’d attended Ryoma Mikoshiba’s evening party tonight were all fairly well-known, and taking down any of them would do, as long as they attacked the carriage in a spot isolated enough that no other noble houses would get involved. Plus, in Viscount McMaster’s case, the fact that he had no guards with him made him an easy target. He’d likely decided not to bring any along because Count Salzberg’s estate was close to the capital and because he was confident in his own strength. Unfortunately, in the end, that was what had decided the outcome. His carriage looked like an easy target, and that was all there was to it.

The men knew that embarking on such a poorly planned operation could result in a difficult situation—only the gods could produce complete coincidences, after all—so they had to do all they could to keep the situation in hand.

“Make sure you kill the viscount,” one of the men said. “His being alive would be trouble for us. And make sure you kill the driver and the effeminate man with him, you hear?”

In the next instant, something whizzed through the darkness, and the man felt something cold stab into his neck. Something hot climbed up his throat, and soon his mouth was filled with the taste of iron. His body went limp.

The shrill sound of a whistle tore through the air. More whistles came blowing from the trees all around them.

“Form a circle!” one of the men called out.

The men instantly realized that they’d just gone from the attackers to the victims.

“Who’s there?!” another yelled into the dark, demanding that their attackers show themselves.

He wasn’t seriously expecting an answer, but much to his surprise, a woman’s voice replied from the woods.

“You ask us ‘who’s there’? Very cheeky, coming from assassins sent to kill our lord’s guests.”

As soon as the voice finished speaking, something came raining down on the men, tearing through the wind. The men swung their swords, trying to deflect the attacks approaching them, but they were swatting at the dark. The only sources of light were the moon and stars. Even with martial thaumaturgy reinforcing their sight, they could only see so much.

“Dammit!”

There were screams all around, but based on how the men had immediately formed a circle, it was clear they were very disciplined. Even so, having some combat skill didn’t mean they could break through the Igasaki clan’s firm encirclement.

Having heard the Igasaki clan’s whistles, Lione’s detachment approached from another direction. The men were like bugs caught in a spider’s web, and before long they’d have nowhere to move.

We’d have it easier if they’d turned tail and fled after our surprise attack, Sakuya thought to herself as she watched the men and sent a hand signal to her subordinates. Still, the lord’s discerning eye is impressive.

That wasn’t to say that Ryoma had known an attack would happen, and he hadn’t known Viscount McMaster would be targeted either. He’d just predicted that if an attack were to happen, it would be one of two scenarios. The first was that the enemy would raid Count Salzberg’s estate, and the other was that they might go after the party’s guests. That was why Ryoma had ordered Lione and her troops to lie in ambush, while he had the Igasaki clan stationed in the mansion. The men had just blindly acted right in the middle of their patrol lines.

And now Viscount McMaster owes us a favor.

Ever since the men walked into the woods, Sakuya and her team had kept a vigilant eye on what they were doing. When they attacked Viscount McMaster’s carriage, Sakuya and the others had swooped in right in time to stop them. Of course, if they had wanted to prevent the attack altogether, they could’ve done so.

But that wouldn’t be quite as profitable.

Ryoma was responsible for his guests’ lives for as long as they stayed in the mansion, but that didn’t apply when they were on their way back home after the party.

And we’ve learned of Viscount McMaster’s personality from Viscount Orglen. He’s no ingrate. 

Viscount McMaster was as arrogant as Rhoadseria’s nobles came, and obstinate at that. He looked less like a noble and more like some kind of bandit leader, and he scorned Ryoma for being an upstart. Nonetheless, as a warrior and a governor, he had decent moral fiber. He was a righteous man who insisted on repaying those to whom he owed debts of gratitude.

Knowing this, Sakuya had allowed the men to attack the carriage, only to swoop in and save the viscount in the nick of time. She did it so the viscount would owe her master a debt he’d be compelled to repay.

Next, we just need to confirm who sent these men.

They already had a fairly good idea of who’d ordered these assassins to act.

But they needed definite proof, so Sakuya decided to provoke them.

“So who are you? From the looks of it, I’d say you’re thieves. Failed mercenaries struggling to earn enough to get by, maybe? Your empty stomachs probably pushed you to seek help from the nobles. If that’s the case, I could ask my master to help you. I’m sure that he, the merciful lord that he is, would be kind enough to share some food with you. Well, it’ll be scraps from tonight’s evening party, but you’ll have to make do with that. I guarantee you it’ll be delicious!”

Sakuya’s words belied what she really thought about their identities, of course. The men looked like mercenaries, yes, but their organization and swordsmanship—they’d cut down the shurikens flying at them in midair—indicated they were as adept as knights. However, revealing that she knew that would get her nowhere. Instead, Sakuya chose to mock their inflated pride and egos, and from the way the men’s expressions changed, her words had had the intended effect.

“Thieves! You call us thieves?!” one of the men shouted back at her, losing his temper. He could tell they were being mocked, and that was exactly what Sakuya was going for.

“Stop it! Don’t be stupid!” another man rebuked him.

Unfortunately for them, the first man’s outburst was enough to distract the group from their enemies lurking in the dark. The next instant, another shower of shurikens rained down on them.

Fools.

The men were experienced and skilled, but their strength wasn’t absolute. A moment’s distraction was all it took to keep them from blocking the Igasaki ninjas’ barrage. The attack took down another two men.

“So? If you’re not thieves, what are you? Surely you won’t say you’re commoners with a grudge against this country’s corrupt nobles. That leaves just one option. You were sent by Queen Lupis Rhoadserians to eliminate any nobles who get in her way. Am I right?”

Sakuya laughed mockingly; hinting at the queen’s involvement was quite a malicious accusation. The men all went quiet.

No response... I guess they won’t fall for that.

The men knew that arguing back or trying to deceive her would be admitting that they were acting on the queen’s orders. If anything, the other party could make the queen’s involvement public through their actions.

But staying quiet is meaningless at this point.

If they really were just bandits or thieves, they would have been confused at the mention of the queen’s name. And if they’d tried to lie, using the queen’s authority to get themselves out of this bind, it would’ve been the same as confessing. The men couldn’t afford to answer her question, but at the same time, their silence was just as damning. Sakuya could easily read their hearts.

“Lady Sakuya, they’re almost here,” one of the Igasaki ninjas behind her whispered into her ear.

“Yes, it’s almost time,” Sakuya said, picking up on the sound of galloping in the distance.

Let’s wrap this up before Lione gets here, then.

These men would not speak either way. The glint in their eyes conveyed that they were all resolved to fight to the bitter end and wouldn’t hesitate to take their own lives if need be. Trying to capture them alive would mean more risk than it was worth.

Sakuya raised her right hand, then slowly swung it down as if she were sweeping through the men’s lives with an invisible blade.

♱

“Lady Sakuya, what do we do with them?”

Dead bodies littered the ground. They were covered in stick shurikens thrown by twenty Igasaki ninjas, making them look like pincushions, yet some of them still drew breath owing to their leather armor.

Practiced shuriken users could throw stick shurikens with enough force to penetrate a frying pan, but that still wasn’t enough to instantly kill a person wearing armor. They’d need to hit their targets in the right spot too. Stick shurikens were more lethal than star-shaped ones, but their penetrating force was limited when it came to clothes or armor. Just two of the men had died instantly from the attack, and that was only because they’d been unlucky enough to get hit in the eye and the throat.

Sakuya didn’t mind, though, because the shurikens’ blades were laced with poison, making them lethal anyway. The men’s bodies soon started to spasm, and red froth leaked from their lips.

Unlike the spy from a while ago, we don’t need to keep them alive.

Sakuya had previously eliminated a spy who’d infiltrated House Bergstone, and in order to catch him alive, she’d intentionally used a nonlethal, four-sided star shuriken laced with numbing poison. She had needed to capture the spy alive in order to discover who he was working for, but this time, there was no need to keep these men alive.

Lione appeared, her horse neighing as she reached the scene. Despite being the commander of her unit, she arrived ahead of her force, implying she’d come in a hurry.

“Aye, sorry for runnin’ late. Looks like the party’s over already,” Lione said as she jauntily dismounted from her horse. She moved like a feline that had just discovered its prey, invoking her moniker as the Crimson Lioness.

“Don’t let it bother you, Lady Lione,” Sakuya said with a grin. She regarded Lione with the respect and kindness one would have for a colleague. “Eliminating people like this is our specialty.”

Lione lightly shrugged, then looked to the men lying on the ground. “I see... And how are ya gonna handle them after this, by the way?”

Sakuya tilted her head quizzically. “You mean their bodies? Well, leaving them on the highway might be bad, so we were going to move them into the woods. I assume the animals will handle the rest?”

Sakuya had no intention of digging graves for these criminals, but leaving them to rot on the highway could lead to trouble. There might still be carriages leaving Count Salzberg’s estate, and come morning, travelers and merchants would pass through here on the way to the capital. They needed to remove the carriage’s wreckage and the attackers’ bodies before that happened.

To that end, dumping the bodies in the woods was the easiest solution, but Lione shook her head.

“Dumpin’ ’em in the woods isn’t a bad idea, but we may as well put ’em to good use. I say we put a little twist on this situation.”

“A little...twist?” Sakuya parroted, unsure of Lione’s meaning.

Lione gave Sakuya a nod and sent her lieutenant, who was waiting behind her, a hand signal.

“Aye. It’s customary to either hang or behead criminals, ain’t it?”

Lione’s soldiers and the Igasaki ninjas went on to hang the bodies from the trees on the side of the highway. They dangled from the branches like overgrown fruit. Next to them, they placed a sign explaining that these bandits had been sentenced to death by the Mikoshiba barony for attacking Viscount McMaster’s carriage.

“That oughta do it,” Lione said, satisfied.

“I see,” Sakuya muttered. “It’ll serve as a warning to the people passing through, and stand as proof of the lord’s martial might.”

“Yup,” Lione muttered as she watched the men hanging from the branches.

In Ryoma’s world, what they’d done to these men would be viewed as sadistic and even illegal. Not even criminals would be executed without a trial just to set an example. In this world, however, this punishment wasn’t unusual. In fact, even in Ryoma’s world, pirates had been publicly hanged until relatively recently. This world had hardly any police influence, and people’s kindness and good conscience amounted to little, so in order to maintain public order, one needed to demonstrate their military might.

♱

An hour or so before Sakuya killed the bandits...

The meeting with Viscount McMaster ended well. I’ll have to thank Viscount Orglen, and Count Zeleph, for introducing me to them.

The evening party had ended, and the guests were all in the process of leaving Count Salzberg’s estate. Ryoma, smiling in satisfaction, watched them board their carriages from his office window, then glanced behind him. The room was dim, and the only source of light was a candlestick sitting by the window.

“For the time being, this concludes the first act,” Ryoma said.

Laura nodded from the corner of the room. “Everything went as planned. I’m sure they’ll be weighing their options carefully. I think welcoming them with things they couldn’t ever afford was a good way of applying pressure. Bringing out that fish dish was especially effective. Just that forced the nobles to acknowledge your wealth, whether they liked it or not.”

“Well, yes. After all, actively threatening them would’ve had the opposite effect on some people. General Albrecht’s fate made that clear.”

Due to a vicious plot, one woman’s husband and beloved daughter had been slain in the most terrible way, despite the fact that she’d climbed to the rank of general through sheer talent and effort. It had warped her heart from that of a proud, glorious goddess of war to that of a vengeful demon. Her rage led her to not only kill General Albrecht for being behind that plot, but to take the lives of his family in retribution as well.

Direct threats had both advantages and disadvantages. Cornered people might strike in retaliation regardless of their odds, much like a mouse biting the cat hunting it. Ryoma was aware of this, so he’d prepared a dish with ingredients imported from afar for the express purpose of displaying his wealth even through the food he served to his guests.

Threatening one’s family can be effective, assuming you don’t care about morality or how it would warp people’s opinion of you once word of your actions got out. But if you use that card poorly, it could prove fatal not just to yourself, but to your own family too.

That was Ryoma’s impression, anyway, but he couldn’t say that to Helena, who’d lost her family to such malice. A careless remark like that could drive a wedge between them. Still, going after another’s family wasn’t a bad play if one merely wanted to eliminate someone in their way. The fact that it was such an immoral and unreasonable act was exactly what granted it coercive power. If nothing else, Ryoma wasn’t going to deny it could be a useful tool in certain situations.

In fiction, the villain holding the hero’s family hostage was a hackneyed trope, but just because it was cliche didn’t mean it was ineffective. It was overused precisely because it was such an effective motivator.

Of course, if Ryoma could avoid stooping to such means, he would, but if it was necessary, he wouldn’t hesitate to go that far. Being a leader meant he couldn’t afford to let his emotions influence his decisions.

But even an effective play needs to be used wisely, or else it will be completely meaningless.

The deceased Hodram Albrecht’s actions could only be summed up as sloppy. Yes, putting Helena’s husband’s head on display and abducting her daughter to make Helena retire from her position as general had garnered the outcome he desired. The moral implications of selling her daughter to a slaver who drove the girl to her death were irrelevant.

At the time, Hodram Albrecht had no way of becoming Rhoadseria’s general. Helena was superior to him.

The question was why General Albrecht pursued that position and whether his actions were appropriate.

“You call General Albrecht foolish, master... Do you say that because he kept Helena alive?” Laura asked.

“Simply put, yes,” Ryoma answered.

Ryoma didn’t think General Albrecht was a likable person, to say the least. He would even go so far as to call him the scum of the earth, but that was just his take on the general. In terms of Albrecht’s capability, there wasn’t much of a difference between him and Helena. After he drove her to retirement, he’d maintained his rank of general for over a decade, controlling Rhoadseria’s military affairs and fulfilling his duties.

His shameful defeat in the civil war could be attributed to his terrible reputation. Years of tyranny had earned him the antipathy of those around him. That wasn’t to say he’d been an inept leader, but the fact that he’d served as general well enough didn’t necessarily mean he was worthy of the role. General Albrecht didn’t have the qualities required of a commander, and it was obvious to everyone around him.

Besides, there wasn’t much of an age gap between Hodram and Helena. He would’ve started to consider retirement at roughly the same time she would have, meaning the chance of him being her successor and taking over the role of general after her was highly unlikely. He had to give up on inheriting the role through legitimate means. His only option was to remove Helena from the equation, and going after her family was one way of doing it. Nonetheless, even though he’d been willing to dirty his hands—even if indirectly—to get what he wanted, in the end, Albrecht failed to finish the job.

“If he was willing to kill Helena’s husband and daughter, he should have found a chance to eliminate her too,” Ryoma said.

Therein lay the general’s biggest mistake in Ryoma’s eyes. Albrecht had left behind someone with a grudge against him. If he’d wanted to use Helena’s family to get her to retire, he didn’t have to physically attack them. He could have extorted Helena, sowing in her the fear that those closest to her might be taken away if she didn’t do as he said. In other words, in taking away all she held dear, he left her with nothing to lose and no other emotions but anger and hatred for him. Killing Helena’s husband had made his threat credible, but all it really did was make Helena resent him.

It was a risky choice. Abducting her daughter on top of that, only to never return her was more than just the worst possible thing he could’ve done. It ventured into utter stupidity. Moreover, given Hodram’s relationship with Helena at the time, he would’ve been the most obvious suspect, even if there was no evidence pointing directly to him. It was apparent that Helena would eventually bare her fangs at him.

In the end, the slaver who was behind the abduction revealed his involvement anyway.

“You think General Albrecht didn’t understand that?” Laura asked.

Ryoma shook his head. “I can only speculate now, but I think he did it less as a threat to extort the position from Helena, and more out of envy for the fact a commoner like her became general. He didn’t kill Helena, but it wasn’t because he feared her fame and popularity. He just wanted to see her wallow in sorrow over her loss, and to gloat. At least, that’s what I think.”

Physically eliminating Helena was risky in its own way, but in Ryoma’s opinion, Albrecht hadn’t so much feared that risk. His dark obsession had simply kept him from killing the woman he hated. He’d wanted to see her squirm.

He prioritized his personal feelings.

Resorting to coercion to have his way... Nothing could be more foolish.

“The conditions this time are pretty different from Albrecht’s, but we’re dealing with authority figures who have a great deal of pride, so I had to be careful about my choices. Luckily, the evening party was a success.”

The nobles scorned Ryoma for being an upstart, but after receiving such amiable and generous treatment during his evening party, it was likely their disgruntlement would fade a little.

So far, so good. That just leaves...

The evening party had been a resounding success, but the day wasn’t over yet.

“It’s late. We shouldn’t keep him waiting. Laura, call Viscount Gelhart over.”

Laura nodded and left the room. The moon peeked out from the clouds, casting its pale glow into the room like a light guiding Ryoma on his correct path.

♱

Furio Gelhart sighed. By now, he’d lost count of how many times he’d sighed that day. The time was late, and he’d already taken off the wig and fake beard he’d worn to disguise himself. He’d also changed out of his clothes, which were quite outdated as far as fashion went. Anyone looking at him now wouldn’t guess that he was, in fact, a shabby, impoverished noble.

Viscount Gelhart was currently in Count Salzberg’s estate—or rather, former estate—in the woods outside of Pireas.

I watched the party from the sidelines, but it was well managed. I’m sure some of the servants have worked in this estate since Count Salzberg’s days, but they didn’t seem to have any doubts or qualms. Ryoma’s having killed the count didn’t seem to influence the way they acted.

Viscount Gelhart sighed once more. As head of the nobles’ faction, it was far too dangerous for him to attend Baron Mikoshiba’s evening party openly, but it had proved well worth the risk to go covertly. If nothing else, he got to witness the Mikoshiba barony’s demonstration of financial and military might.

The party was a masterpiece, and after he showed off like that, any noble will have to acknowledge the Mikoshiba barony’s overwhelming economic superiority.

Ryoma had served them food of such quality that it had made even the nobles, with their refined palate, race to the table for more. These were the same nobles who’d gossiped in the palace’s halls just a few days ago about the terrible food the upstart baron would probably serve at his party.

I can’t blame them. Just looking at that food made me salivate too. 

Viscount Gelhart had attended the party in disguise so as not to draw attention to himself. He simply hung back in one of the hall’s corners, looking on without being noticed. Thanks to that, he’d hardly tasted the food himself. He’d only sipped a bit of the wine and nibbled at a few of the dishes a considerate waitress had brought him, but that little indulgence was more than enough. The aroma of the food and drinks on the table had given him an idea of their high quality, and once he actually tasted them, he’d realized how talented the chef was.

From what Viscount Gelhart could tell, the food and drinks were all first class. Additionally, the food had been garnished with generous amounts of spices—spices probably worth their weight in gold—and he could only guess they’d been imported from other continents. That alone elevated this party to the same standard as the ones he’d held during the height of his power.

What’s more, the dishes were novel and original. Ryoma had served common culinary dishes like roasts and soups, but the nobles were all drawn to the other dishes next to them. For example, there were deep-fried foods, which were rare due to how much oil they consumed, as well as other unique dishes that demonstrated the chef’s skills. One extremely impressive moment was when a live fish was brought into the hall, where it was carved up and mixed with oil and spices.

Such dishes were uncommon in this world, since cooking mostly amounted to heating things, save for fruit, over a fire. Viscount Gelhart had heard that in some of the continent’s coastal regions it was customary to eat raw food, but this was his first time tasting anything of the sort. Still, the performance of it all was what had really tied the whole event together.

It’s hard to believe he had several fish of that size.

A bass large enough to shock even the nobles was brought out, only to be dropped on the floor. The nobles were disappointed at first, but their dismay turned to surprise when another fish of the same size was brought out immediately after. Ryoma had apologized for his waitress’s clumsiness, but Viscount Gelhart was almost sure the whole thing had been planned out ahead of time.

Maybe he even planned on people figuring out it was all a performance, to demonstrate he can get as many fish of that size as he wishes.

At that point, Viscount Gelhart shook his head.

His domain in the Wortenia Peninsula is surrounded by the sea, and since he built a port to trade with the neighboring countries, he has more chances to get seafood compared to people like us who have inland domains. But that doesn’t mean...

Pireas, Rhoadseria’s capital, was far from the coast, so most of its cuisine was based on meat and carbohydrates, like potatoes. Fish dishes weren’t unheard of, but they were limited to freshwater fish and shrimp caught in rivers. Some gourmets insisted on eating fish caught from the sea, but since it took days to carry fish to Rhoadseria, the trip impacted their freshness. It was enough of a problem that people joked about nobles dying every year because they ate something bad.

Be that as it may, all the food served today had been fresh, and based on how the nobles eagerly ate it, nothing had smelled rotten. That wasn’t the only issue, though.

The dishes and bowls they gave people... They were made of ceramic fashioned by a craftsman. They were fine too, good enough to be used in my own household. But that’s not the problem.

Food degraded as time went by, same as how hot soup became stale when left to cool, but that wasn’t an issue when the containers had endowed thaumaturgy applied to them. When a practitioner fed them prana, they would keep warm food warm or, alternatively, keep cold dishes from melting. However, this was easier said than done.

Endowed thaumaturgy users were rare, and in addition to the knowledge required to use it, carving complex thaumaturgical seals required time and labor. Since endowed thaumaturgy demanded this technical knowledge, mastering it was even more difficult than mastering martial and verbal thaumaturgy. Not to mention, most endowed thaumaturgy users kept to themselves. They mostly passed down their art to their families, and since endowed thaumaturgy was typically used on armor and gear, the seals were usually for hardening or weight reduction. One exception was the seal of coercion used on slaves. Either way, endowed thaumaturgy users were few and far between.

Those plates were set to activate even without their holders filling them with prana. They’re probably very efficient when it comes to prana consumption. Whoever made those seals is very skilled.

Endowed thaumaturgy was a type of thaumaturgy that consumed the user’s prana to activate a certain effect, and it was primarily used by wielders who could control the flow of prana in their bodies. Ordinary humans had prana as well, but their reserves weren’t enough to activate a thaumaturgical seal. Yet, somehow, the party’s tableware had ignored that logic. The glass of wine Viscount Gelhart held had been freezing cold, and it had remained that way even after he drank all the contents.

I don’t know how he managed it, but he must have used a great deal of funds and connections to get enough tableware to accommodate nearly two hundred guests.

Viscount Gelhart realized what that must have meant and sank into thought. He couldn’t tell how long he’d spent pondering it all, but he eventually heard a gentle knock on the door.

“My master requests that you come to his office,” a woman’s voice called from behind the door.

Viscount Gelhart nodded and got to his feet. He then picked up the glass on the table in front of him and gulped its contents down to rouse himself.

A young woman in maid’s clothing and striking silver hair led him to a room. There, Furio Gelhart exchanged words with Ryoma Mikoshiba for the first time. Perhaps deciding that glossing over things would be meaningless at this point, the viscount spoke honestly. When Ryoma asked him what he thought the fate of this country would be, he didn’t hold back.

“You think it’s fated to fall to ruin,” Ryoma stated. “A very radical answer.”

“Yes. Even though I know that the changing times brought this upon us, seeing this five-hundred-year-old kingdom perish weighs on my heart. Especially since House Gelhart draws on the blood of the first king’s younger brother...”

If Ryoma’s asking that question bordered on disloyalty, then Viscount Gelhart’s answer went past that and into outright treason. Nevertheless, there was no doubt or sorrow on the viscount’s face, and given the meaning of his words, that was very unusual. This proved he’d accepted the facts for what they were.

Viscount Gelhart took a sip of water from the glass he was holding and placed it on the table before carrying on.

“At this point, it goes without saying, but Her Majesty Lupis Rhoadserians’s regime is in its dying days. The queen’s retainer, Meltina Lecter, is scrambling to keep the country from tearing at the seams, but the way things are now, there isn’t much she can do. She tries to hold the castle’s bureaucrats firmly under her thumb, but honestly speaking, she’s just barely keeping the country alive.”

Viscount Gelhart smiled at Ryoma.

“Especially now that she’s made an enemy of the Devil of Heraklion. Surely you realize why she didn’t interfere with your war against Count Salzberg, yes?”

The viscount’s smile harbored no malice or scorn. If anything, he seemed full of expectation and hope to see how one could survive this crisis.

Viscount Gelhart understood the country’s current state more than Ryoma had expected him to. He’d been demoted from duke to viscount and removed from his stronghold, Heraklion, in southern Rhoadseria to a rural area near the border, but despite that, he seemed to know a great deal about the situation within the palace. It made sense; he did control the nobles’ faction for years.

For a time, the nobles’ faction’s power had considerably diminished, but it seemed they really were making a comeback.

Although Viscount Gelhart’s domain and assets were limited now, it seemed the connections he’d formed over the years couldn’t be severed. The fact that he could discern Lupis’s plots within the palace despite being confined to a domain so far from the capital proved that.

At the same time, Viscount Gelhart was confident that the Devil of Heraklion would not sit idly by and wait for the queen to end his life.

“The Devil of Heraklion,” Ryoma muttered. “I know I earned it, but talk about a negatively exaggerated name.”

“Yet that name of yours cost me the civil war,” Viscount Gelhart noted. “And you can be away from your newly won territory without fear of rebellion due to that name too. The people in your domain know of your might and wouldn’t dare revolt against you. Of course, part of it is because you’re generous with your wealth, but if I had to say, you account for your infamy in all your plans. Or am I wrong?”

Ryoma answered Viscount Gelhart’s question with only a bitter smile. He knew well enough that the viscount was right.

If God was the absolute justice, then a demon or a devil stood in opposition to Him, becoming the eternal villain and antagonist. That belief remained just as true in this world. Those with such names were believed to call forth calamities, such as plagues and earthquakes.

The words “demon” and “devil” had commanding and compelling implications to them. In Japan’s Warring States period, Katsuie Shibata, one of the conqueror Nobunaga Oda’s vassals, was known as the Demon Shibata for his great deeds during his service. Likewise, Shimazu Yoshihiro was called Shimazu the Demon for the impressive way he broke through enemy lines in the battle of Sekigahara, during which his escape decided the way the battle ended.

Calling someone a demon wasn’t quite the same as calling them a devil, and from a Japanese point of view, “devil” implied more strength and intellect. Plus, few people in the modern world ever received this kind of appellation. In modern Japan, only athletes and people in very limited industries ever got those titles. It was a unique experience for Ryoma, to be sure.

In that regard, he was allowed to take a modicum of pride in his title. However, Ryoma had been an ordinary high schooler when he was summoned to this world, so from where he was standing, the title was more embarrassing than anything else. This was just his perspective as a Japanese teenager, though. In this world, where technology and science were underdeveloped, things were different. The power of thaumaturgy influenced all fields of reality, and belief in gods and mystical powers was still prevalent. Such titles weren’t bestowed lightly.

The cover of a certain book surfaced in Ryoma’s mind. Since there was no printing technology in this world, books were precious and expensive, but this book was even more valuable than that. Simone Christof had delivered it to Sirius on Ryoma’s orders.

The book described how what began as a small indigenous sect morphed into the largest religious group in the western continent. Through its dogma that mankind was created by the God of Light and was the true ruler of the world, the religion grew far and wide. The book detailed the aftermath of the war that broke out between that religion and the demi-human clans.

A devil hunt...

Around four hundred years ago, whenever famine or calamity struck the western continent, people would seek out the devil they believed had caused those hardships. At first, they’d blamed the demi-humans, but after they were expelled from the land, the humans had sought new enemies. Under the name of purification and salvation, they’d mark their fellow man as devils and hunt them down.

No matter what world you’re in, people still believe gods are good and devils are an evil that needs to be eradicated. It’s like the witch hunts in Europe.

From what Ryoma had read of the book, no actual devils existed. The book only contained a record of people who’d been dubbed as such and put to death for it. Other books he’d bought besides this one told the same story. What’s more, most of the people labeled as devils were those who’d criticized the Church of Meneos. They were mostly refugees and tenant farmers who’d been exploited out of their land by former governors—in other words, the lowest of the lower classes. To some people, they were merely pests.

If they had any demonic powers to begin with, like the book claimed they did, they wouldn’t have undergone a trial and allowed themselves to be executed, would they?

Besides, would monsters who could manipulate the weather and summon plagues even get caught? Even if they were captured, they certainly wouldn’t quietly await their verdict. They would rampage and use their supernatural powers to avoid death or, at least, take their captors down with them.

After all, the Church of Meneos painted them as devils hellbent on tormenting mankind with their destructive powers. In truth, all the church did was create an excuse to get rid of undesirable people and, at best, offer sacrifices to placate the families struck by natural disasters. It was similar to the witch trials that took place in Europe, but in that case, it was now a matter of historic record. Thankfully, such hunts were a relic of the past and didn’t occur any longer.

I don’t know if the Church of Meneos adopted this practice on its own to purge its ranks of dissidents, or if the idea came from otherworlders who warped the faith, but...

The problem was that the memories of this gruesome custom had been passed down the generations, and it still existed in the western continent’s collective memory. The people still held very extreme beliefs about the words “devil” and “witch.”

Ryoma’s achievements during the expedition to Xarooda—repelling the O’ltormean invasion with a small force—had changed the Rhoadserian people’s opinion of him to a national hero, but it seemed his good reputation had yet to fully eclipse his infamy. Unlike Helena’s title of Rhoadseria’s Ivory Goddess of War, and Lione’s sobriquet “The Crimson Lioness,” his epithet made him both feared and loathed.

I did it because I was driven into a corner, but I still killed that many people. I had to be prepared for some backlash.

During the civil war, when he built a bridgehead for his army to cross the River Thebes, Ryoma drowned an attack force led by Kael Iruna as they attempted to march on his encampment. On top of that, in defiance of Rhoadseria’s conventions of warfare, he’d slaughtered any surviving enemy soldiers rather than take them captive. That much was undeniable fact.

Furthermore, Ryoma had spread rumors of what he did to the villages around Heraklion so that the commoners would rebel against the conscription, thereby causing the nobles’ faction to fracture. That was all part of Ryoma’s tactic, and he’d personally told his mercenaries to exaggerate the rumors about him. With all that in mind, it was Ryoma’s own fault that he had such a bad reputation.

Plus, Viscount Gelhart is right.

Being infamous meant people feared you, and terror translated to deterrence. Ryoma didn’t know what being called a devil meant on this continent, but he’d made good use of the title all the same—and Viscount Gelhart had realized that.

May as well commit to the title at this point. In for a penny, in for a pound...

Honestly speaking, joining forces with Furio Gelhart was a huge gamble. It would mean joining hands with a past opponent of his, and it could mean making enemies of Count Bergstone’s faction, which had just joined the fold. But as things stood, Ryoma couldn’t realistically subjugate the Kingdom of Rhoadseria with sheer military might, so he needed to use any play possible to do so.

Ryoma opened his mouth to ask Viscount Gelhart one last thing, but at that moment, he heard the shrill sound of a whistle.

That whistle... It can’t be!

That was the signal that the Igasaki clan had discovered the enemy. Viscount Gelhart appeared to have heard it too, because he glanced suspiciously at the window.

“My...whistling at this time of night?”

The mansion gradually came to life. Those who knew the meaning of the sound hurried to the armory to prepare for an attack. The nobles who still hadn’t departed sensed danger and moved about cautiously. They still didn’t know if the Mikoshiba barony was their ally or their enemy, and their entourages couldn’t afford to expose them to danger.

“Could you wait for a bit?” Ryoma called to Viscount Gelhart, who was frowning anxiously, and quickly made for the door. But before Ryoma could touch the doorknob, the door swung open, revealing Sara on the other side.

“My apologies for interrupting your meeting,” she said.

Normally, Sara’s actions would have been highly inappropriate. Opening the door to her master’s office without his permission would have been unthinkable, but it was apparent that this situation was an exception.

“Well, what happened?” Ryoma asked.

“I don’t know for sure yet, but the Igasaki clan reports that Viscount McMaster’s carriage was attacked by a group of what seems to be bandits. Sakuya’s currently fighting the attackers and stalling them, and Lione’s unit should be arriving on the scene soon.”

Ryoma had instructed them to blow the whistles in specific rhythms as a means of communication, not unlike morse code. As limited a method as it was, it bore fruit at this juncture.

I was right to prepare things ahead of time. But if there was an attack, who ordered it?

There were a few possible suspects, but the most likely ones were Queen Lupis and her loyal retainer, Meltina Lecter. That said, something about Sakuya’s report concerning the so-called bandits struck Ryoma as odd.

“The way you worded it...makes it seem like the attackers were few in number,” he said.

“The report says it was about twenty or so men,” Sara replied.

Ryoma fell silent.

Twenty? Why so few? If they wanted to kill someone, they’d send a military unit. And the fact that they picked Viscount McMaster feels off too. Why him?

If they’d wanted to attack nobles on the way back from Ryoma’s evening party, they’d have sent a hundred men to do it. Twenty men was enough to attack a single carriage, but in doing so while it was on the way back from a party, they ran the risk of encountering other carriages besides their target. Plus, they’d need to account for the party’s security too. Twenty was plenty to take down their target, but for any target larger than that, it was too much of a gamble. If they were unlucky, the other nobles would notice the attack and gather there, cutting off their avenue of escape.

The way they’re going about it is too messy. I can’t figure out what their aim is.

After a few seconds of silence, Viscount Gelhart gingerly said, “Baron Mikoshiba, if you don’t mind, I’d like to take my leave... May I?”

Ryoma glanced at him. The viscount’s face was contorted in terror. As a man of influence, he probably felt his life was at risk.

I can understand his wanting to scurry home, what with the way things are now, but...

But with the situation being as uncertain as it was, Ryoma wasn’t sure if it was wise to act recklessly. He didn’t want to jump to conclusions either way.

As these thoughts troubled him, Ryoma heard a tumult on the lower levels. He could hear people arguing. One of the voices sounded like Laura’s, but she was too far away for him to make out what she was saying, so he used martial thaumaturgy to reinforce his sense of hearing.

Who else is there? 

Listening in, he could tell that the other voice belonged to one of the knights on guard, who’d hurried up from the first floor. Then, the next instant, a man’s angered shout shook the walls of Count Salzberg’s estate.

“Impossible! What are you saying?! Our duty is to protect our lord, not help you with your stupid scheming!”

“Oh, that voice... It seems my guards have noticed the disturbance and have come for me,” Viscount Gelhart explained. “Lord Mikoshiba, if you could be kind enough to let them through?”

It seemed the viscount had also reinforced his hearing and had recognized the knight’s voice. Ryoma turned to Sara, who awaited his orders, and nodded. Sara nodded back and swiftly turned around.

A few seconds later, the shouting gradually died down until it was completely inaudible. Ryoma kept his eyes fixed on the staircase at the end of the corridor, and before long, five knights appeared, accompanied by the Malfist sisters. The twins led the knights down the corridor toward Ryoma’s office.

The moment Ryoma saw the knights, he felt an inexplicable chill run down his body.

What?

At first glance, nothing stood out about the knights. They wore full plate armor—metal clanked with every step they took—but since they weren’t wearing helmets, Ryoma could see their faces clearly. These were the guards Viscount Gelhart had come with to this estate. That much was obvious from Viscount Gelhart’s expression as well.

The viscount stood in front of Ryoma, greeting his guards, yet Ryoma couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off—an impression that was growing stronger with each passing second. However, since there wasn’t anything visibly wrong with them, he couldn’t put his finger on it. A murky emotion settled in his heart.

When the knights stepped closer, about twenty meters away from him, Ryoma suddenly realized what was tugging at his mind.

Right, their cloaks!

From what Ryoma remembered, the knights had been wearing white cloaks when they entered this estate, but they weren’t wearing them right now. That wasn’t all that suspicious in and of itself. They were guards, but they didn’t need to wear their cloaks when guarding their lord indoors. Still, there was one problem with this. These knights had been guarding the vicinity of the mansion and had never entered the building until now. If they’d hurried over to ensure their lord’s safety, surely they wouldn’t have the presence of mind to politely leave their cloaks with the servants. Even if one or two of them had remembered to do so, not all five of them would be composed enough to do it.

Ryoma’s caution spiked at once, and perhaps noticing this, the knights gradually sped up down the corridor. They passed the Malfist sisters and bolted toward Ryoma. Though their plate armor weighed dozens of kilograms, they moved as fast as the wind. They had evidently reinforced their bodies with martial thaumaturgy.

Seeing their beloved master’s expression coupled with the knights’ odd behavior, the Malfist twins realized something was wrong and quickly drew the daggers they hid in their maid uniforms. They then activated their fifth chakra, the Vishuddha chakra located in their throats. Their chakras rotated, filling their bodies with superhuman strength, but by the time they finished, the knights had already closed the distance to Ryoma.

Two of the five knights turned to face the sisters, intending to stall them, while the other three closed in on their target. When they were only five meters away from Ryoma, the three knights drew their swords from their sheaths.

These guys!

As spacious as the corridors were in Count Salzberg’s estate, they were by no means wide enough for Ryoma to effectively engage three knights at once. The three knights knew this perfectly well too.

The one in the lead is trying to distract me so that the other two can surround and finish me off. It’s a lethal formation, sacrificing one of them to take me down.

If Ryoma were to incorrectly dodge their first attack, the second and third knights would slash at him from behind, but retreating back into his office wasn’t a good idea either. Viscount Gelhart, who was standing motionlessly behind him, hadn’t grasped the situation yet. If his noble house had been a house of warriors, he’d have had the experience to know what was going on, but Viscount Gelhart was originally a duke at the peak of Rhoadseria’s noble society. He didn’t have any combat experience. He’d learned martial thaumaturgy as part of his noble education, and he’d indulged in swordplay as a high-society hobby, but he’d never fought with his life on the line. While Ryoma could fall back and retreat, Viscount Gelhart would stay rooted in place, and the attackers would certainly kill him.

I can’t get to Kikoku...

Ryoma had put his sword away for his meeting with Viscount Gelhart. Bringing a cursed sword to a discussion like that would have made quite the negative impression, after all.

The knights closing in on Ryoma counted on him being unarmed. The knight leading the charge swung his sword overhead, his face twisted into a confident smile. He was sure of his victory.

No choice, I guess... It’s a shame, given how much this shirt cost...

Ryoma tore off one of his shirt buttons and pressed it between his right hand’s middle and index fingers. He then swung his right hand forward over his right breast, which produced a snapping sound. In less than a second, the knight charging straight at him let out an animalistic howl that echoed through the corridor.

Ryoma had utilized the art of the arhat coin. Like its name implied, it was a form of Chinese martial arts that used coins hidden on one’s person as weapons. Basically, it was a throwing technique using a copper coin with a sharpened outer edge.

Ryoma had done the same with his shirt button. It wasn’t a bronze coin, so normally it wouldn’t be lethal, but a master martial artist like Ryoma, with his body reinforced by martial thaumaturgy, could propel the button at an opponent’s weak spots, such as the eyes.

The knight covered his face with his hand and tumbled to the floor. No one immediately understood what had happened. It looked to them like Ryoma had only swung his arm, so the knight’s reaction was startling. Everyone froze, unsure of how to process the situation.

That pause was exactly what Ryoma was hoping for. He used it to close the distance with the remaining knights.

First, I need to take out the knight on the left!

This was an all-or-nothing gamble, but considering that he was unarmed, he didn’t have any other options. Nonetheless, Ryoma was confident in his martial prowess.

Seeing Ryoma approaching, the knight on the left reflexively brandished his sword and swung it down, not knowing that he’d just made the worst possible choice. Sliding into the knight’s flank, Ryoma slammed his fist at his mentolabial sulcus—the spot between the chin and lower lip. It wasn’t a straight punch, but what was called a single-finger punch—a strike with the index finger’s second joint jotting out.

While the knight was dazed from the hit, Ryoma swiftly circled behind him. He grabbed the knight by the head, twisted it so as to crush his cervical vertebrae, and broke his neck with a snap.

Ryoma then lunged at the last remaining knight, who’d yet to grasp the situation. The knight thrust his sword out with all his might, having realized instinctively that his life depended on this. However, for all the knight’s desperation, his attack was nothing more than futile resistance.

To Ryoma, a thrust without any range, buildup, or feints—and with the soldier out of position, at that—looked the same as his opponent standing still. He easily dodged the blade aimed at his throat by casually craning his neck, closed the distance, and thrust the heel of his palm up against the knight’s jaw.

It knocked the knight down, and the back of his head slammed against the floor. The force of Ryoma’s strike, reinforced by martial thaumaturgy, as well as the knight’s own body weight, focused on the back of his head and crushed his skull. With what sounded like an egg cracking, a bloody flower bloomed across the floor.

“Master Ryoma, are you all right?!”

“You’ve got blood on your face! Are you hurt?!”

The Malfist twins hurried over to Ryoma, having defeated their own targets. Ryoma held up a hand to silence them.

“I’m okay. This is just blood splatter. No point wiping it off now either. I’ll just get dirty again in a second.”

Ryoma turned to the knight who was still alive and cradling his face on the floor. He then kicked the back of the knight’s head, and with a crunching sound, a dull tremor ran through the estate. The knight turned limp.

Looking down at him, Ryoma clicked his tongue. “Uninvited guests, eh? Cleaning the blood out of these clothes is gonna be difficult. I’m in for one hell of a scolding from Lady Yulia...”

Five corpses littered the corridor, but the two soldiers the Malfist sisters had disposed of were relatively clean kills. The ones Ryoma had killed, on the other hand, were in a markedly more gruesome state. The one that had his neck snapped was relatively clean, but the other two had cracked skulls—quite the grisly sight. Ryoma was also covered in blood.

“Lord Mikoshiba...” Viscount Gelhart muttered.

He was stunned speechless by this sudden sequence of events. In fact, it seemed he didn’t fully understand what had just happened.

“I think we’re going to have to hold a very different conversation now,” Ryoma said brightly. “Right, Viscount Gelhart?”

Ryoma smiled at him, his face still streaked in blood, like he’d done nothing more than stomp out an insect. Seeing Ryoma like this, Viscount Gelhart was seized with inexplicable terror.

He’s like...a devil in human form...

He felt something cold slide down his back, and at that moment, Viscount Gelhart realized that he couldn’t defeat the man standing before him. At the same time, the path he should take as a Rhoadserian noble became clear to him.

Dark clouds began to cover the moon hanging outside the window, just like the clouds of anxiety enveloping Viscount Gelhart’s heart.