Wortenia Senki (LN) - Volume 17 - Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Opening Act of the Farce

The carriage rolled over a rut carved into a cobblestone path as it advanced toward the castle. Ryoma glanced out the window.

I don’t think I’ve ridden in a carriage since my first visit to Count Salzberg’s estate in Epirus. Back then, I wasn’t in a position to care, but...

The carriage was furnished with only a wooden seat, and in terms of comfort, it was as bad as it could get. It did have a seat cushion, but it did very little to absorb the carriage’s movement. It was merely a lacy pillow that looked like a high-class item but was a terrible cushion.

I don’t know if this world doesn’t have anything as effective as suspension and shock absorbers, or if this carriage is just of poor quality, but damn, my butt and legs hurt.

Ryoma reached for his backside, feeling a different kind of pain than he did when riding a horse. This was a rather crude gesture for a noble, even a minor one, but there was no one in the carriage but Ryoma. The Malfist sisters, who normally never left Ryoma’s side as his maids and bodyguards, were riding in a different carriage.

I don’t know if this is just how they do things, or if it’s some kind of harassment, but... Well, either way, I’m all alone for the first time in forever. I should relax until we arrive. I don’t imagine I’ll get attacked right now.

Ryoma thought of his comrades who served as his right hands riding in separate carriages and smiled. He’d considered the possibility that he might be attacked while alone, but given the farce that was about to play out today, the House of Lords would have to keep up appearances. They sought to pass judgment on Ryoma, a famed national hero, so any unnecessary hiccups in the legal process would just make things more difficult for them. Attacking Ryoma on his way to the trial would be detrimental to their goals and would result in rumors that they’d assassinated a hero, further disrupting the public peace and casting more oil on an already burning kingdom.

The House of Lords wanted to hold a legitimate trial against Ryoma, so Ryoma figured an attack now would be highly unlikely, but sometimes people could ignore reason and act recklessly.

Especially considering that some in the House of Lords see me only as a man who killed their relatives.

Ryoma knew the Rhoadserian nobles loathed him. Quite a large group of them had gathered at his dinner party, but considering the sheer number of nobles in Rhoadseria, only a minority had turned up. In addition, blood relations between nobles played a major role. Nobles would kill their own kin without a second thought if it suited their ends, but if an external foe threatened their relatives, they would join forces to fight them off at once.

Regardless of how thick the blood between them was, House Salzberg had many relations, as it was a bloodline that had continued uninterrupted since the kingdom’s founding. The count’s relatives would seek revenge on Ryoma, and they would do it one of two ways: by violence or by the law.

Choosing to exact revenge on Ryoma through violence proved to be too difficult. Things would have been different if all of Rhoadseria’s nobles had united to bring him down, but challenging Ryoma, whose domain was a natural stronghold and who had enough might to defeat Count Salzberg and the ten houses of the north, was a daunting task. Compared to such a risk, bringing him to trial for breaking the law and launching a private war on other nobles was much safer and easier. Plus, the nobles’ idea aligned with Queen Lupis and Meltina Lecter’s plan.

It’s hard to tell how much of this is coincidence and how much was planned by Lupis and Meltina.

Given what Lady Yulia had told Ryoma after the war, the royal order for Count Salzberg to spy on the Mikoshiba barony was standard practice to drive a wedge between their two factions. Nonetheless, Ryoma had a hard time believing that Queen Lupis had been planning to mobilize the House of Lords against him at that time. If nothing else, she hadn’t implemented this vile, crafty scheme back when she forced Ryoma to accept the governorship of Wortenia. If she was that smart, she probably wouldn’t have been so terrified of Ryoma to begin with.

If I had to say, things only really changed during the expedition to Xarooda.

Queen Lupis had sent Ryoma to the frontier lands of Wortenia, hoping that the no-man’s-land would be the death of him. Instead, Ryoma had defied her expectations and built up a solid footing with military might. He’d effectively revealed himself as a new faction that Queen Lupis could no longer ignore, and her natural reaction was to dispose of him. Still, even with the country’s entire might at her command, disposing of Ryoma wasn’t that simple. If she were to use her authority as monarch to forcibly remove Ryoma from the domain he’d developed with his own resourcefulness, she would make enemies of the nobles who protected their own vested interests. Gaining enemies now, when internal affairs were so unstable, would be fatal to her regime.

This was why Queen Lupis had intentionally chosen not to interfere with the growing rivalry between the Mikoshiba barony and the Salzberg county. Instead, she’d set the two houses against each other so that they would injure and exhaust each other.

As Ryoma mulled this over, he felt the carriage begin to slow down.

Looks like we’ve arrived.

The carriage stopped. Ryoma picked up Kikoku, which was lying at his side, and rose from his seat.

“Now, I must ask that you leave any weapons with me,” Douglas said, extending his hand as Ryoma stepped out of the carriage.

Ryoma cast a probing glance at the bailiff. “You want me to hand over my weapons, eh?”

The House of Lords occupied a section of the palace. The details seemed to differ from case to case, but from what Ryoma had heard, the rules were basically the same there as everywhere else in the palace. And as far as he knew, nobles had the right to enter the palace with their weapons on them. Such was Rhoadserian law, in place since the founding of the kingdom. That said, from Ryoma’s perspective as a modern Japanese man, the palace was like the prime minister’s office, an exceedingly secure place that served as the core of politics. Hearing that nobles were allowed to enter the palace with weapons struck him as very strange.

I guess the concept of security differs based on the time period.

Perhaps for this world, where one’s security equated to one’s own strength, this was entirely reasonable, but even within the castle, there were times when nobles were required to disarm themselves. One such instance was during an audience with the king, and the other was during trials held by the House of Lords. In both cases, it was a fair compromise.

For obvious reasons, it made sense to forbid carrying weapons when one was in the presence of the king. In the case of a trial, the House of Lords mostly dealt with judging criminal acts and arbitrating disputes between nobles. They were essentially the country’s supreme court. Since situations where the accused was displeased with their verdict and turned violent weren’t unheard of, the House of Lords naturally barred bringing weapons into their jurisdiction. The sole exception were the knights who served as guards directly under the House of Lords.

In that regard, Douglas’s demand that Ryoma relinquish his weapon was correct and in line with his position as bailiff. However, even though Douglas was justified, legally speaking, Ryoma’s status as a national hero changed things.

“I was under the impression that the summons was merely to confirm what happened,” Ryoma said.

Sensing the meaning behind Ryoma’s words, Douglas cracked an obscene smile. The fact that he didn’t retract his extended hand showed he had no intention of budging.

“Yes, I’ve heard the same, but kingdom law demands that you disarm yourself, my lord. Even a renowned hero such as yourself is not above the law.”

Douglas cited the law with a straight face, yet he’d just accepted a bribe earlier. Ryoma was, in a way, impressed with how utterly shameless Douglas was. Regardless, everything had gone as Ryoma had expected.

I see... So he doesn’t view it as if I bribed him. He just took advantage of my giving him money. Efficient, I suppose.

The requirement to discard one’s weapons before entering the House of Lords’ jurisdiction was indeed the law, so the bailiff’s actions were justified. Except, unlike having an audience with the king, there was room for leeway in this situation. If Ryoma had been summoned as an accused defendant, he would be required to disarm himself, but since he was just a witness, the bailiff could allow him in without handing over his weapons. In other words, one could bribe their way out of the prohibition or simply convince a person with authority to relent.

Despite that, Douglas insisted Ryoma disarm himself. Moreover, a dozen to two dozen of the House of Lords’ knights were surrounding the carriage. Though they didn’t draw their swords, they had every intention of mercilessly forcing the issue depending on Ryoma’s response.

“Or do you intend to resist here?” Douglas prodded.

At that, the knights took a step forward. Ryoma glanced at Kikoku, which he gripped with his left hand.

I guess drawing Kikoku here would be a pretty bad idea.

If he were to bring Kikoku’s power to bear, he could possibly break through this situation with brute strength. Due to his battle with Count Salzberg, Kikoku had absorbed a great deal of prana and had come to accept Ryoma as its master to some extent. While he couldn’t wield it to perfection yet, Ryoma could draw out the cursed sword’s hidden powers. If he were to use Kikoku alongside the Igasaki ninjas he’d placed to guard him from the shadows, he could cut down any number of knights, who were only capable of using martial thaumaturgy, and break through their encirclement.

Nevertheless, this route would make Ryoma a criminal, and that would render all his preparations so far meaningless. The House of Lords upheld Rhoadseria’s laws; if he were to reject their demands and draw his blade on them, no excuse would exonerate him. Queen Lupis would surely mobilize a large-scale army against the Mikoshiba barony, and with that kind of just cause at her side, even the nobles who weren’t loyal to her would be hard-pressed to defy her demands.

If I just agree and disarm myself, that’s fine by them. But if I resort to force and we make our escape, it would give them legitimate cause to attack us. The House of Lords are pulling this guy’s strings, and that’s probably what they’re going for here. Not a bad plan, all in all.

From Douglas’s perspective, his objective was to provoke Ryoma to get him to rebel—an orthodox and guaranteed method to eliminate an opponent.

I don’t have a choice. I’ll have to comply and leave Kikoku here. The issue is what comes next. I’ll just have to rely on the Igasaki clan.

If Ryoma left Kikoku with Douglas, how would he get it back? If it was just an ordinary katana, he could easily have it replaced, but Kikoku was a one-of-a-kind weapon passed down in the Igasaki clan for generations. He couldn’t leave it behind. Still, given the situation, the only people he could trust with the sword were the Igasaki ninjas guarding him from the shadows.

Sensing Ryoma’s apprehension, Kikoku trembled gently in his grip. It was either displeased with the idea of leaving its master’s side or, perhaps, disgusted with the prospect of an unfamiliar man touching it. Ryoma had no choice, however, so Kikoku would have to put up with it.

Don’t be like that. I knew this was possible, but you wouldn’t hear of it. I’ll pick you up as soon as I can, so just be patient.

Maybe the sword read Ryoma’s thoughts, because it stopped trembling.

Ryoma handed the katana to Douglas. The bailiff’s provocation wasn’t over yet, though.

“Yes, very good. That just leaves...the body check, and then we’ll be done.”

Douglas’s words were the final thrust to gouge out his opponent’s heart.

“A body check? Are you really going to go that far?” Ryoma sighed, exasperated. He realized just how palpable the enmity Douglas and the people pulling his strings had for him truly was.

“My apologies, my lord, but we’ve heard tales of you wielding projectiles called chakrams. I must ask that you submit to this check, as disrespectful as it may be,” Douglas said, bowing his head collectedly.

Hearing this, Ryoma couldn’t very well refuse the bailiff. He took the leather bag that contained the chakrams out from his clothes and handed it to Douglas. The law only prohibited bladed weapons, but one would assume that included other armaments too, such as spears and battle-axes. The question was whether chakrams counted as well.

I doubt this country has laws for weapons like this.

The law likely didn’t list them, since chakrams were rare in this world, so one could claim that the law didn’t classify them as weapons. Despite this, it was clear from the situation that arguing his point wouldn’t work, so Ryoma concluded that there wasn’t a point in protesting any longer. He spread his arms to the sides and held them at shoulder length. He felt like he was being inspected by clerks at the airport after triggering a metal detector.

Douglas gave Ryoma a dubious look, but he soon realized Ryoma’s intentions and signaled with his eyes to the nearby knights.

“If you’d like, I could change into another outfit?” Ryoma mused in displeasure as the knights’ hands groped about his body. “As far as I know, there’s no law saying you have to change outfits before visiting the House of Lords, so I didn’t bring a change of clothes. If you have any that fit my size, I’ll gladly put them on.”

As he spoke, intense indignation and bloodlust rolled off of Ryoma. He wasn’t serious, of course; this was merely a taunt. “Make me do it, if you have the courage to dare.” But his provocative words and the bloodlust coming from him made everyone around him freeze. They had all remembered just who they were dealing with. The knights giving him the body check took a few steps back, and Douglas went pale as Ryoma gazed straight into his eyes.

After several seconds of silence, Douglas finally said, “No, we won’t have to go that far. And I want you to understand we are doing this out of duty to the House of Lords.” Douglas then bowed his head respectfully to Ryoma.

After the argument at the drop-off point, Ryoma passed through a sturdy gate leading into a large, spacious garden. Standing ahead was a white three-story building. Looming behind it were two spires serving as watchtowers. Rows of fully armed knights were lined up on both sides of the trail.

It’d be optimistic to assume this is all to guard an important figure.

Nobles were VIPs in this world, but that wasn’t to say they were all treated equally. A count was only one rank above a viscount, but that difference was significant. It affected where one’s carriage could stop, how soon one could get an audience at the palace, and countless other circumstances. Above a count were higher titles, like a marquis and a duke. When it came to the highest rank, royalty, there was no comparison with a baron.

That said, not even royals would have such a large host of guards for an escort, so the fact that Ryoma did meant one of two things. The first was that Ryoma was more valuable than a royal. He was famously known as the Devil of Heraklion, and many people looked up to him as a national hero. Such a man was visiting, and while his title wasn’t that of a major noble, some might have considered him worthy of special attention.

They say even major VIPs can be criminals. Looks like they’re right.

Ryoma was being sarcastic, but his assessment wasn’t wrong. In any country, prisons were guarded closely at all times.

Ryoma advanced down the trail lined with knights. It seemed the House of Lords were very wary of him, but what was the intention behind their caution?

From the looks on their faces, they don’t seem very welcoming. Which means...

The host of guards were there because of the second option—they saw Ryoma as a threat.

Not that I was expecting a warm welcome, but it looks like I have a very difficult hearing ahead of me. 

As Ryoma continued to analyze the situation, he walked calmly toward his destination.

♱

How much time had passed since?

Three hours? It can’t be that little...

Based on his rumbling stomach, it must have been roughly five or six hours.

Ryoma had been led to a room without any windows, where he now lay on a sofa, glaring up into the air. As soon as Douglas had seen Ryoma settled, he’d made himself scarce and went off somewhere.

The way Ryoma was lying down was uncouth for a noble, but no one was around to see him anyway. Besides, when he asked to go to the toilet, a knight had handed him a bedpan of sorts. Fortunately, the bedpan in question was presentable. It was presumably made for nobility to use, because it was made of porcelain and adorned with a floral design. It was pretty fancy, as bedpans went, and unlike the plastic and glass chamber pots used for medical purposes, it was opaque. Even so, Ryoma was rather opposed to doing his business with this thing. He didn’t remember ever having used a bedpan before either.

I don’t know if it’s true or not, but they say the Palace of Versailles in France had no toilets, so nobles had to either use bedpans or do their business out back, in the dark.

This was just something he’d read online before being summoned to this world, so Ryoma had no way of knowing if it was true, but if this information was to be believed, then Ryoma’s image of the cultured French nobility was markedly different from reality. Of course, Ryoma’s impression was the skewed perception of a foreigner who didn’t know the reality of the time and place.

Plus, it makes sense that the standard of living and ways of thinking would differ between the modern day and the sixteenth century.

Either way, this world was perhaps an improvement over sixteenth-century France. If nothing else, this world had toilets. They didn’t flush, though, so they used cesspools and privies similar to the ones found in the countryside of Ryoma’s world. Also, they were limited in number. They weren’t on every corner like in modern society. Still, there was a world of difference between something being presently unusable and it not existing outright.

It’s fine. I didn’t really want to go to the bathroom, but... I mean, they won’t even serve me anything to eat.

Ryoma hadn’t come to the House of Lords for leisure, so maybe expecting food was entitled of him. Plus, considering that they might have poisoned it, he wouldn’t have eaten anything they served him anyway.

Any ordinary noble would throw a tantrum and demand to speak to the person in charge.

He was, after all, left neglected in this small, confined room, without any food or even a glass of water. Ryoma was all alone here, which was unusual in its own way.

The carriages behind his had ferried Lady Yulia, as well as Robert and Signus, who were likewise called in as witnesses. The Malfist twins, dressed as maids, had accompanied him as well. The fact that he was placed in separate rooms from Lady Yulia and the other witnesses was understandable, since they didn’t want witnesses coordinating their testimonies, but if this was the reason, they would have called into question the fact Ryoma and the others had been staying in Count Salzberg’s estate before the hearing. They didn’t, however, so placing them in separate rooms at this point was meaningless. Furthermore, separating a noble from his personal caretakers and servants, who were no different from their very limbs, was quite problematic.

Is this just an attempt at harassing me?

Many of the nobles belonging to the House of Lords had blood ties with House Salzberg and the ten houses of the north, so they were hostile toward Ryoma. But while many of them were aristocrats, they didn’t have any influence or power. If they were up against a commoner, they could oppress them to no end, but they couldn’t do much to another noble. Very few of them could resort to assassination or other such forceful measures.

But, well, so be it. I predicted all of this. 

Ryoma wasn’t harboring any kind of expectation that the House of Lords would treat him fairly. The chances of that were at best ten percent. He also had countermeasures in place for such possibilities.

From the looks of it, we’ll have to go with... Hm, plan B... No, maybe plan C.

Depending on how the House of Lords would act, Ryoma had prepared three plans ahead of time, and each plan branched based on whether the nobles were friendly, neutral, or hostile toward him. That said, of the several plans he had, he wasn’t very keen on resorting to plan C. It struck him as extreme, yet he couldn’t deny it might be necessary if he was to protect himself and his allies.

I already had the Igasaki clan handle recovering Kikoku. That just leaves...

Ryoma continued to assess the situation as he waited for time to pass.

♱

They could hear the sound of someone whistling inside the room. The tune was melancholic and rhythmic, the register shifting from low to high to low again. Some people claimed that whistling didn’t qualify as music, but a skilled whistler could produce a tone indistinguishable from an orchestral instrument. But the quality of the tune and the instrument being used wasn’t the issue right now.

“Hey... There it is again,” said a knight standing by Ryoma’s door to his partner. His voice was muffled because of his helmet, but it was easy to imagine that his expression was contorted in confusion. His partner probably felt the same.

“Yeah, what’s that boy thinking? I mean, he might be an upstart, but he’s still a noble.”

“Maybe he doesn’t know why he’s here?”

“I doubt that. Question is, what do we do about him?”

Would they stop him, or would they overlook his impromptu performance? There weren’t any rules against whistling, and it wasn’t a crime, so did the guards have any right to stop him? On the other hand, the situation being what it was, it was inappropriate, and common sense dictated that given the place, the knights should stop his whistling right away.

The upstart was in the jurisdiction of Rhoadseria’s House of Lords, essentially a supreme court and a solemn symbol of the kingdom’s authority second only to the palace’s audience chamber itself. Whether it was normal to whistle, decorum and appearances mattered here, and they required that people remain silent. Not to mention, no noble would whistle in the House of Lords to begin with, so this issue was without precedent. Unfortunately for these two guards, they had to deal with such a situation.

It’s one irregularity after another...

The knights guarding Ryoma had been secretly ordered by their superior, the House of Lords’ director, to keep a close watch on him. Making a noble wait for so long, and in a room like this, was very unusual, to say nothing of separating him from his entourage. Plus, from what the guards had heard, his sword had been confiscated too. When it came time for him to go to the assembly hall where the hearing would be held, he would have to leave his weapons behind anyway, but that was much different from leaving them behind at the entrance to the House of Lords.

Of course, the knights had their own opinions about the man they were guarding. He’d gained the title of baron at such a young age and was famous for his skills as a warrior, so the knights admired and envied them. They were reaching their midlife years and weren’t likely to ever achieve either of those things, but they didn’t detest Ryoma or want to entrap or harass him.

“Let’s wait and see for now. I’m sure the higher-ups will say something if it’s not allowed,” one of the knights said.

The other knight nodded and replied, “Right.”

The knights had a vague idea of what the House of Lords’ top brass were planning, but that didn’t mean they were going to help the man they were watching. They weren’t willing to take the brunt of the fire either way. They simply stood in front of the room, listening to the whistling and waiting for the hearing to start.

♱

While Ryoma was pleasantly whiling away the time in his suffocating room, a heated battle of words was taking place in the House of Lords. Located on the far end of the first floor of the palace was a room otherwise known as the Grand Courtroom. There, the twenty members of the House of Lords, including the judges and prosecutors, were engaged in an exchange with Robert Bertrand.

“Lord Robert Bertrand,” one of the judges cried, his voice full of surprise and dread. “Are you saying you have no intention of criticizing Baron Mikoshiba for the atrocities he committed in his private war against Count Salzberg? You do not blame him for the death of your father and brother?”

Needless to say, the judge wasn’t dreading Robert’s response. Robert was a terrifying warrior, but this was a hearing at the House of Lords. It was basically—although not officially—a trial, meaning that martial might had little worth here. This judge had no reason to fear Robert. Realistically speaking, though, he was scared of Robert. The fact that Robert wasn’t blaming Ryoma for his actions was incomprehensible, and that worried him.

Blood ties were important to Rhoadseria’s nobility, so a child was expected to show absolute obedience to their father and to seek revenge should their parents be killed. It was much like how it’d been in ages past in Ryoma’s world, when seeking revenge for the death of one’s parents was expected. This idea might seem old-fashioned, anachronistic even, but it was prevalent in this world still—on the surface anyway. One was expected to at least act as if revenge was their intent.

This half-hearted commitment was to be expected, perhaps. After all, other factors, such as pedigree and reputation, also greatly mattered to the nobility; morals and honor were secondary. It wasn’t that they didn’t care for those things, though. They wouldn’t hesitate to use them as a pretense to corner their foes if it suited their ends, but as long as their family name remained untarnished, they could compromise on anything else. If there was one hill a noble would die on, it would be the preservation of their family’s honor. This was why, to the nobles present, Robert’s words were utterly incomprehensible.

People like them will never understand how I feel, Robert thought.

Robert wasn’t going to argue against the idea that children ought to obey their parents, but he believed that they didn’t have to tolerate everything their parents did to them. A child shouldn’t have to consent to being treated like a slave. Even slaves had the right to resist—though they did get whipped for their insubordination.

“I ask you once more, Lord Robert Bertrand. Are you saying you acknowledge and support Baron Mikoshiba’s private war?”

Honestly, Robert wished he could snap, shout at them to shut up, and then sink his fist half a dozen or so times into this man’s smug face. Robert had fashioned his fists as weapons on the battlefield, and they were just as lethal as any armament. Plus, he was up against nobles who’d never known the battlefield, so his punch could very well rupture their heads like watermelons.

That would feel good, that’s for sure...

If this hearing were about Robert himself, he probably wouldn’t have restrained himself from attacking. These fools were intolerable, and Robert wasn’t a tolerant man to begin with. He could feel his stress building, but he knew he couldn’t lose his temper. Not yet.

Serving under a master isn’t easy...

In the past, Robert had never imagined a day would come when he would swear his service to another. Even when he’d worked under Count Salzberg, he’d never thought of him as his master. He’d felt indebted to the man, and while others might not have had the best opinion of the count, Robert was fond enough of him to call him his “old man.” But in the end, it had merely been a transaction between equals. He’d lent Count Salzberg his martial strength, and although Count Salzberg hadn’t paid him for it, their relationship had been similar that of a mercenary and a client.

Things were different now. Robert did serve a master—a man burning with ambition and ideals. A man he was willing to die for. A master who, considering how young people married in this world, was young enough to be his son. Ryoma’s youth made it difficult for some people to believe in him, but his age was inconsequential to Robert. What mattered was that he’d finally found a master he was willing to give his life for as a warrior.

Robert finally answered, repeating his words once more, though he knew it was likely a meaningless gesture.

♱

Pale moonlight seeped through the window into the director’s room on the second floor of the House of Lords. It was nearly midnight. Sitting in the room was the director, Marquis Halcyon, and the other officials of the House of Lords. They were seated on sofas, their expressions full of confusion and doubt. The same could be said of Marquis Halcyon. He was resting his elbows on his desk, and his chin on his hands, and his features were contorted in annoyance.

The vice director of the House of Lords, Count Eisenbach, sighed. “This is quite a troubling development, isn’t it, Director?”

During the hearing, there had been one unexpected development after another. The inquiry had dragged on longer than expected, and though it was supposed to end today, it had to be extended for another day. It was highly unusual for a trial to continue like this when the House of Lords’ verdict was all but decided already. Most unexpected of all was that the witnesses were so uncooperative.

“Robert Bertrand and Signus Galveria... I heard those two were both difficult sorts, but I didn’t think they’d be this difficult.”

The judges and prosecutors of the House of Lords had applied a great deal of pressure on them, but Robert and Signus wouldn’t budge from their stances. Robert had continually taunted Marquis Halcyon and his aides, whereas Signus had calmly and indifferently repeated the facts. The two of them were like fire and ice, but their animosity for the House of Lords was clear to all.

Robert and Signus weren’t the only issues either. The other nobles had given equally unacceptable testimonies.

“Those two are a problem, but Lady Yulia Salzberg is even worse. Who could have expected she’d brazenly defend Baron Mikoshiba after he killed her husband. No wonder they call her a vile woman. She’s shameless.”

The other men in attendance all hummed and nodded in agreement. When it came to Robert and Signus, they’d heard the rumors and suspected that the Twin Blades would side with Ryoma, especially since their relationships with their families had been so strained. In Signus’s case, it wasn’t merely that he’d been mistreated by his family; he’d been abused.

If only they hadn’t rejected us like this, I might have welcomed them into my family as son-in-laws. But we’re long past that point now, it seems...

This thought had crossed not only Count Eisenbach’s mind, but also the minds of most of the nobles in attendance. Robert and Signus were both bachelors—healthy, virile men in their midthirties. Robert was a legitimate son, but he wasn’t in any position to inherit the headship of his house, and Signus was a bastard. As far as the nobility was concerned, they were by no means desirable mates, but that was assuming that they were unremarkable men. Instead, the two of them stood out from their peers with their impressive martial prowess. They were known to be two of the strongest men in the kingdom, having earned the title of Count Salzberg’s Twin Blades. With such glory on their side, many noble daughters would be inclined to marry them.

In fact, many members of the House of Lords had been interested in having Robert or Signus marry into their families, and both men had had plenty of chances to rise to fame. Be that as it may, their families had time and again squandered those chances, which was ample reason for these two to resent their relatives.

Blood relations run deep, but grudges between family members can run even deeper.

Children could end up loathing their parents, and parents could end up detesting their children. Of course, such scandals were a stain on the family name, and for that reason, House Bertrand and House Galveria had tried to stifle the rumors around them. To those who’d achieved a certain degree of power and influence, however, neither family’s efforts did anything to keep the rumors from spreading.

Everyone present in this room knew about Robert’s and Signus’s plights, so they weren’t terribly surprised that the Twin Blades had defended Ryoma after he’d reached out to them and saved them from their circumstances. However, they had not expected Yulia Salzberg to testify as she did. While she was known as a vile woman who yielded to no man, there had been no open discord between her and Count Salzberg. That she’d exposed her husband’s corruption and his disloyalty to the kingdom was a painful blow for the House of Lords. Her testimony could potentially support Ryoma’s claims that he’d gone to war in the name of Rhoadseria’s order and prosperity.

“But since we approached this as a hearing...” began Viscount Therese, one of the officials.

Even if the witnesses refused to blame Ryoma Mikoshiba, there was nothing the House of Lords could accuse them of. This hearing was meant to be fair and neutral, so they had to keep up that front, although everyone present knew that this was only a pretense.

“Yes, but with the way things are proceeding, our initial plan will go awry,” Count Eisenbach said with a sigh.

What they needed was proof that Ryoma had destroyed Count Salzberg and the ten houses of the north for personal reasons. So long as they had that, they could finish this affair easily, but gaining even a single bit of incriminating evidence had proved harder than expected.

We may as well resort to torture, Count Eisenbach thought, irritated.

Just then, they heard a knock on the door.

“Who’s there?” called Count Eisenbach, the vice director of this council.

“My apologies,” answered the director’s secretary from behind the door. “I have an urgent report.”

Recognizing the secretary’s voice, Count Eisenbach turned his eyes to the room’s owner. Usually, the director would be shouting at his secretary for intruding during such a busy time, but if they still came even after being told to not disrupt their meeting, it must be an urgent report indeed.

Count Eisenbach nodded at Marquis Halcyon, hoping that this interruption would bring a development that would help them break this stalemate.

♱

As the House of Lords’ top brass were discussing their policy going forward, a woman was entering a mansion in one of Pireas’s wealthy neighborhoods. The pale moonlight shining down on the city was the very opposite of sunlight overflowing with the vigor of life. It was a softer glow, filled with a mother’s tender love, yet it did little to give the woman’s heart any peace.

The woman was Helena Steiner, the Kingdom of Rhoadseria’s fabled general and a knight of valor hailed as a goddess of war. But right now, this war hero’s face was strained with sorrow.

Should I really have come here? The Igasaki clan’s report says things are going as planned...

Helena would have normally refused to come, the occasion being what it was. No matter how meticulous Ryoma’s plan was, it would be meaningless if the people involved didn’t follow the script. She should have been occupied with ensuring all went as planned, with no time whatsoever to get involved in other business, yet knowing this, Helena still chose to come here.

I can’t believe anything this man says, but on the off chance he’s telling the truth, I...

She thought back to what Akitake Sudou had told her during their meeting yesterday. Helena didn’t fully believe him. For starters, the timing was too good; the news had come just as Helena had resolved to choose a new future for herself. In addition, Akitake Sudou and his offer were extremely suspicious.

Sudou was the same person who’d operated in the shadows for Duke Gelhart in the civil war, and she’d heard whispers that he secretly advised Mikhail, who was by now an enemy to her side. It wasn’t clear what Sudou’s endgame was, but Ryoma was so wary of him that he employed his intelligence network to keep full tabs on Sudou.

Helena wasn’t naive enough to accept anything Sudou said, but given the nature of what he’d told her, she couldn’t ignore his words altogether.

It’s all because of this pendant. It’s the real thing. There’s no mistaking that.

Her eyes fell to the pendant in her hand. The locket’s fastener had been removed.

Just then, Helena heard a knock at the door. “May I come in?” someone asked.

It was a man’s voice—the exact voice she wanted to hear least right now. But her personal feelings aside, she couldn’t move past this unless she saw where it took her.

“Yes, come in,” Helena prompted.

At that, Akitake Sudou entered the room. “I apologize. Did I keep you waiting?”

The fact that the first thing he did was apologize indicated that he was being very considerate of Helena’s state of mind.

Even so, it’s likely this is all just a sham.

Akitake Sudou looked like the kind of middle-aged man you could find anywhere—nothing about his looks even hinted at a warrior’s mettle or ambition—but that was just how he appeared on the surface.

Is he like a snake or a scorpion? Or maybe he’s more like a poisonous spider, lying in wait in its web? Either way, I’d never come anywhere near him unless the situation necessitated it.

What scared Helena the most weren’t warriors like Signus and Robert—ferocious lions who lorded over the jungle—but tricksters with fake, vile smiles like Sudou’s. He was a serpent that crept in the underbrush, but despite her fear, Helena had no choice but to deal with him right now.

“No need to let that bother you. I’m the one who asked you to spare some of your time tonight,” Helena said, motioning for Sudou to take a seat on a sofa by the window.

It was strange for Helena, the guest in this scenario, to ask Sudou to sit, but Sudou nodded eagerly and sat down.

“Oh, don’t mention it, my lady. Meeting Rhoadseria’s Ivory Goddess of War is a great honor. I’m actually quite beside myself.”

“No need for flattery. I’m just an old woman. People who call me a goddess of war only think of my past achievements. Besides, I did meet you already yesterday, and now you say you’re nervous? You take your jesting too far.”

As she spoke, Helena elegantly covered her mouth and laughed. She was obviously being sarcastic, but Sudou wasn’t fazed by her response.

“Oh, that’s not true. After all, you’ve been making quite a few moves recently...”

Helena wasn’t nearly oblivious enough to miss the implication behind his words.

I can’t let my guard down around him. He’s sharp. A match for that boy, even.

But, at the same time, she knew better than to let her emotions show on her face.

“Well, since I’ve decided to return from retirement, I figure I may as well do my best for this country’s well-being.”

“Of course. I completely understand that any decisions you’ve made, you did so out of the deepest love and concern for the kingdom.”

They glared at each other, invisible sparks flying between their eyes, but it lasted for only a moment before Helena eventually sighed and shrugged. Sudou was a serpent of a man, the kind one should never let down their guard with, but Helena had come to this mansion for a different reason tonight.

“Let’s do away with the verbal jabs and cut to the chase, shall we?”

“Yes, let’s.” Sudou smiled. “Whiling away the hours in an intellectual discussion with you would be a delight, Lady Helena, but our time is limited. Now then...”

Sudou picked up a bell from the nearby desk and rang it. Almost immediately, someone gently knocked on the door. They’d been standing outside the door, waiting to be called, it seemed.

“Come in,” Sudou said.

“Excuse me.”

The door opened, and Helena immediately rose from the sofa. Seeing the features of the woman who walked in, Helena felt her breath catch in her throat. The woman had short, wavy blonde hair, and she stood slightly taller than Helena. Based on the leather armor she was wearing, she was either a mercenary or an adventurer.

The woman stood wordlessly beside Sudou, but from how she conducted herself, it was clear she was an experienced warrior. What shocked Helena the most, though, wasn’t the woman’s combat experience.

She looks like...me, like what I looked like in my youth...

Their hairstyles differed, but she was the splitting image of Helena’s younger visage.

“S-Saria...?” Helena couldn’t stop the name from slipping out of her mouth. “Are you really Saria?”

Saria was the name of Helena’s daughter, who’d been dragged into Helena’s political conflict and died. This shouldn’t have been possible, yet the woman gave Helena a curt nod.

“Yes, mother.”

The instant she heard those words, Helena’s eyes filled with tears. At the same time, Helena’s warrior instincts raised an alarm.

This is...too good to be true.

The daughter she’d believed dead turned out to be alive. She ought to have rejoiced. Given the portrait in the locket Sudou had delivered to her the day prior, it was highly possible that this woman was her daughter. Still, there was no absolute proof. This world had no blood or DNA tests, so Helena tested the possibility in the best, most certain way she could.

“Then, could you show me your shoulder?”

This was an inappropriate request to make of a young woman, especially with a man present in the same room, but Helena didn’t ask Sudou to leave, and the woman didn’t seem offended by her request either. She acted as if this had all been planned ahead of time.

The woman did as she asked, undoing her leather armor and exposing her left shoulder. Just this single gesture melted away all of Helena’s caution. Helena had asked the woman to show her shoulder, but she hadn’t specified which one. If this girl was an impostor pretending to be Saria, she surely would have been confused by Helena’s request, yet she said nothing.

Not so much as a doubt...

Helena wordlessly approached the woman and lovingly patted her shoulder. There were three moles there, positioned in a triangular shape.

Aah... It really is her...

Faced with the unmistakable proof that this was really her daughter, Helena’s suppressed feelings of joy finally erupted, and she burst into tears.

Sudou simply watched, the devil’s smile on his lips.

♱

Morning already...

Ryoma slowly opened his eyes, awakening from his slumber faceup on the sofa. Without any windows or a watch, he had to rely on his internal clock, and since he knew it was accurate, he could tell that he’d spent an entire day and night in this room. Based on how his stomach was rumbling, there was no doubting that.

So they left me unattended here for nearly a day.

The House of Lords had called Ryoma for a hearing, only to leave him all alone in a tiny room with hardly any furniture. Any other Rhoadserian noble would have lost their temper after such mistreatment, but Ryoma remained calm. The sofa, no different from the recliner chairs one could find in a manga café, was large enough to accommodate his large frame and serve as a makeshift bed. Apart from his legs dangling a bit off the edge, Ryoma didn’t mind sleeping on it. He’d have appreciated a pillow and blanket, though.

In any case, this was certainly no way to treat a noble. Ryoma wasn’t sure if the House of Lords was just harassing him or if something unexpected had happened.

Either way, today should be different. If it’s not and nothing changes, will I have to use the Igasaki clan?

Ryoma had sent the Igasaki ninjas beforehand to infiltrate the House of Lords, so he could have them procure food and tell him what was going on outside, but if he sent them on incursions that weren’t part of the initial plan, he’d run the risk of the House of Lords discovering their movements. When it came to Kikoku, that was both his personal weapon and the Igasaki clan’s prized sword, so he had no choice but to order them to retrieve it, but he couldn’t afford to take any further risks. Compared to the plan’s success, hunger was something he could endure.

But if I’m too obedient, that might cause problems too. It’s hard to maintain a balance in this situation.

Acting like an unassuming, docile prisoner would seem suspicious to his captors. To be convincing, he had to look at least somewhat defiant, then disgruntled once his complaints fell on deaf ears. Still, the House of Lords wasn’t going to let him starve to death.

He could hear the sound of footsteps coming from the corridor outside, and before long, they stopped before his door. He then heard the tinkling of someone rummaging through a key chain...and the door opened.

Standing there were three fully armed guards. One of them carried a tray with what looked to be a meal on it. The two guards behind him were apparently his escorts. They stood there, looking much too imposing and pretentious given what they were delivering. It was obvious they didn’t trust Ryoma at all. They placed the tray on the table and left without a word.

“Huh.” Ryoma glanced at the tray and smiled. “So they finally decided to give me something to eat.”

This was his first meal in the last twenty-four hours. That said, the meal they’d delivered was wholly unappetizing. The bread looked several days old, and the bowl of soup was cold. It wasn’t simply a modest meal; they were giving him leftovers and scraps.

I mean, I wouldn’t eat anything they gave me even if it was a delicacy, so I guess you could say they made it easier for me.

Ryoma dumped the meal into the bedpan sitting in the room’s corner, but he wasn’t throwing a childish tantrum over the food’s quality. He was in the middle of a battle right now, and he was in the House of Lords—the heart of enemy territory. He wasn’t brave enough to eat any food the enemy served him. It was too risky. In truth, they didn’t even have to poison him to death. All they’d need to do was slip in a paralyzing agent to render him immobile.

If Ryoma were in modern Japan, suspecting that his food had been poisoned would have made him seem mad. Unless one had substantial proof to back their claim, they would mostly be ridiculed for being paranoid. But Ryoma was a warrior in this world and therefore had to be wary of poisoning.

Knowing not to touch any food or drink your enemy served you was a basic understanding that one had to master before they even began practicing martial arts. Poison was an effective way to eliminate enemies, after all. Take, for example, western silverware. Silver utensils were beautiful, to be sure, but back when rulers had to be constantly wary of poisoning, they served as a warning bell—silver turned black when exposed to arsenic.

It was a historical fact that this had occurred in both the western and eastern sides of the world. Unless Ryoma was on the verge of starvation, he would never touch any food they served him. Nonetheless, he wasn’t angry or dissatisfied that he couldn’t eat. In fact, he was pleased they’d served him anything at all.

So things are finally starting to move.

As terrible as it was, this meal indicated that the House of Lords intended to act. If Ryoma’s estimate was correct, knights would shortly arrive at his door. The question was whether they’d be calling him to a hearing or stepping in to execute him without question.

Whichever it is, it’s fine by me, but...

As he lay on the sofa, Ryoma gently massaged his right wrist. Confirming the sensation in his left palm, he smiled in satisfaction and closed his eyes once more. Not long after, Ryoma sensed someone’s presence outside the door—someone besides the guards—and opened his eyes. He once again heard a key chain jingle, then a familiar figure opened the door.

“Oh, Mr. Hamilton,” Ryoma greeted the man. The bailiff was escorted by two guards. “Good morning. It’s been, what, a day?”

Being a baron, Ryoma didn’t need to address someone like Douglas, but he did so knowingly. His loafing on the sofa dispelled any politeness the greeting might have had, but Douglas didn’t react with anger. Instead, he humbly returned Ryoma’s greeting.

“G-Good morning... My apologies for having kept you waiting...”

Douglas must have felt uncomfortable to be acting so awkward. Ryoma even sensed some dread in his demeanor.

I see... They must have put him through the wringer.

As per Ryoma’s instructions, the Igasaki clan had threatened Douglas. Based on Douglas’s attitude right now, Ryoma assumed that they must have taken his family hostage. The Igasaki clan were ninjas, after all, and wouldn’t hesitate to resort to torture to complete their mission.

This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t gotten greedy with me.

The tactic the Igasaki ninjas had used wasn’t a peaceful way of getting things done. To Ryoma, it was outright vile. Even so, it was extremely effective on greedy people like Douglas, so they’d had no choice but to employ this method. Those types of people were extremely callous toward their peers, frighteningly so, and they were arrogant and merciless to those weaker than them. On the other hand, they were often extremely fearful and easily swayed by the threat of bodily harm to themselves or their families.

Besides, given Douglas’s attitude, it was clear that he was on the enemy’s side. The idea of coercing people who were only going about their duties made Ryoma pause, but hesitating to strike at your enemy by hurting their families was both foolish and hypocritical.

You just gotta know where to draw the line.

Using assassination and blackmail to solve an issue might have been effective, but neither were easy to carry out. Actually, it was much like modern medicine. Assassination and blackmail were akin to cutting out the disease’s source and stitching up the wound, whereas medication was a different method.

Medication was, in most cases, more appropriate and safer. By comparison, surgery was much riskier, but avoiding going under the knife wasn’t always the right decision. The objective of medicine was to save lives, and both surgery and medication were viable options.

The same could be said of assassination and extortion, but one still had to be careful. When those methods worked, people tended to cling to them, and once they’d crossed a certain threshold, they found it hard to choose any other option. More than anything, choosing such violent means lowered one’s quality as a human being and created friction between oneself and those around them. Not many people could make these calm distinctions like Ryoma could. If nothing else, he didn’t want rumors to start circulating about him resorting to such methods.

When all is said and done, it will come down to who I am as a human being.

Could he act without regard for good or evil? Ryoma believed that a ruler’s true worth was decided by their ability to accept everything, be it good or bad.

Ryoma glanced at Douglas, who was still standing by the door, and said, “So, what brings you here, Mr. Hamilton?” He was taunting Douglas—asking if Douglas came to escort him somewhere or to kill him.

Hearing Ryoma’s question, Douglas shivered. After a moment, he finally spoke, his timidity greatly contrasting with his arrogance from the day prior.

“Why...I’ve come to escort you, of course...”

Ryoma stood from the sofa with a smile. “I see. Well, let’s get going, then.”

Douglas led Ryoma through the halls of the House of Lords. The building was spacious, albeit not quite as large as the palace, so Ryoma had to walk for nearly ten minutes. The whole time, Douglas kept sneaking glances at him, which made Ryoma feel awkward.

Douglas’s behavior made sense, all in all. With the Igasaki clan holding his family hostage, he was probably beside himself with anxiety. He’d returned last night to an empty home, with nothing but a letter informing him of what had happened. His heart was probably full of doubts. Who took his family? Why? And right now, he was staring at the person with the most probable cause to do something like that.

Ryoma figured that had it not been for the knights accompanying him, Douglas would have lunged at him by now. In Douglas’s eyes, Ryoma was a demon or a devil, yet Douglas never paused to ask himself why this was happening to him.

The letter should have specified that nothing will happen so long as he does his job properly, but judging by the way he keeps glancing at me, he probably has an idea who orchestrated this.

Douglas’s gaze momentarily met Ryoma’s, at which point Douglas looked away in a hurry. Ryoma sighed.

Look, I get how you feel, but can’t you trust me a little? God. I mean, my classmates knew me as someone with whom you could talk things out.

There was no guarantee that if Douglas followed the letter’s instructions, his family would be returned to him. Even if there was, it was doubtful he would believe it anyway.

Ryoma wasn’t one to renege on a promise, though. He might have resorted to the same means, but he wasn’t a heartless monster like General Albrecht, who’d abducted Helena’s daughter, only to go back on his word and sell her off to a slave merchant. Of course, since no verbal agreement had been made, Ryoma could be flexible with how he held up his side—he could capitalize on the gray zone between black and white, as it were. There was no guarantee he wouldn’t end up edging toward the black, regardless of whether it was a verbal promise or a ransom note like this time.

It was no different from a kidnapper or an organized criminal choosing to actually release their hostages once they received the ransom. Although many kidnappers killed their hostages after they got their ransom, abductions could happen for reasons other than strictly money. At the same time, there were plenty of cases where, as long as the ransom was paid and law enforcement wasn’t called in, the hostages were returned safely.

In the end, what determined such outcomes was whether the kidnappers were professional criminals or amateurs. Professional criminals never went back on their promises. They knew that sticking to one’s word was the strongest foundation for human relations. In a world of outlaws, this kind of trust and honor was the sole guarantee one had, and criminals only associated with those who shared their sense of pride and honor. Faith and trust had to be mutual, after all. Anyone who didn’t understand that was bound for an early grave—both themselves and their families.

In that regard, Douglas was lucky. His frivolous attitude had incurred Ryoma’s wrath, but he still had a chance to save his family.

Grandpa always used to say that it only takes a second to lose trust, but building it takes a long time. At the time, I thought he was just spitting out annoying platitudes.

Just about any Japanese person had heard that saying from their parents, and indeed, it was most important to interpersonal relations. As the old saying went, one couldn’t live on their own, so trust and reliability were imperative for living with others.

Reliability was a combination of one’s past actions and achievements, and trust was a future prediction based on one’s reliability. To that end, Ryoma would never trust Lupis Rhoadserians again because she’d used her authority to go back on her word.

I will use him to my ends, anyway.

Ryoma walked on, a wicked smile on his lips, and soon Douglas stopped before a large door. It seemed they’d reached the room where the hearing would take place. Based on the decorations on the door and the guards standing on both sides of it, there was no doubting that this was the place.

Douglas nodded briefly, and the knights pushed the door open.

I’ll leave him to the Igasaki clan. I’ve got my own job to do here.

Douglas looked like he wanted to say something, but Ryoma simply glanced at him as he passed through the door.

Inside was a spacious room so large that Ryoma honestly thought it looked like a courtroom. Ryoma had no way of knowing this, but it was the Supreme Courtroom, where just yesterday Robert and the other witnesses had been locked in verbal warfare with the House of Lords. In Japan, hearings were held in special hearing rooms, but it seemed that wasn’t the case in Rhoadseria.

“Baron Mikoshiba, please come this way,” said one of the knights lined up by the wall as he motioned for Ryoma to go ahead.

Ryoma moved according to his directions, swiftly glancing around the courtroom.

Yeah, looks like they’re very wary of me. I guess it makes sense a trial at a courthouse would have heavy security, but from a cursory look, there’s about forty or fifty guards here.

The House of Lords was a key part of the kingdom’s government, so it was expected that their courtrooms be manned with guards, but this time, the sheer number of them struck Ryoma as excessive.

“Please stand here.”

The spot the guard indicated was a platform set in the very center of the room. Before it was a small podium, perhaps for placing documents. It looked no different from a courtroom in Ryoma’s world.

Except there’s no seat. Dammit, my legs are gonna get swollen from standing up for too long, aren’t they?

Ryoma wasn’t sure if this was another show of harassment, or if he was just stupid for expecting that kind of foresight from these people. Either way, he’d have to spend the duration of the hearing standing.

Sighing, Ryoma walked to the platform, and the sound of a gavel beating against wood filled the courtroom. Twenty nobles sat before Ryoma. One of them, whose seat was more elevated than the others, began speaking.

“Now then, let us begin the hearing.”

They had no intention, it seemed, of apologizing for keeping Ryoma locked up in a suffocating room for the night. The man’s tone had indicated that he lorded it over others and saw it as his lot in life to order people around.

He is a key figure in the nobles’ faction, though. No noble in this country isn’t familiar with him.

The man was unpleasant, yes, but Ryoma couldn’t deny Marquis Halcyon’s authority. He was part of the nobles’ faction, the largest faction within the Kingdom of Rhoadseria, headed by the former Duke Gelhart and made up of Rhoadseria’s nobles. Though it was called the “nobles’ faction,” it wasn’t quite so monolithic. For example, some nobles were more concerned with their domain’s prosperity, while others focused on power struggles within the palace rather than their fiefdoms’ well-being. Nobles positioned closer to the border prioritized military affairs.

Among the members of the nobles’ faction, Marquis Halcyon served as the leader of the bureaucrats, those who were charged with matters of the state, and his influence was extraordinary. The House of Lords dealt with and punished those with noble titles; it was, for all intents and purposes, a courthouse reserved for the aristocracy.

Rhoadseria was a monarchy where the sovereign—Queen Lupis—held absolute authority. She had power over all matters of justice, legislation, and administration. Nonetheless, even if she had the right to decide on those matters, she couldn’t possibly handle the sheer workload of doing so. She had the final say, but she rarely had time for the practical work, so she had to delegate. The man in charge of those who handled the practical work for her was Marquis Halcyon—the very man sitting opposite Ryoma now with an arrogant smile on his lips.

Let’s see what the marquis is planning, then. Let’s fire the first shot and see how it goes.

Ryoma took a deep breath and then began to speak.