Wortenia Senki (LN) - Volume 17 - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: The Day of Separation

A bailiff led Ryoma back to the hall where he’d conducted his battle of words that morning. The same nobles were seated before him, and like last time, fully armed knights lined the wall. The only difference was that the witness stand now had a chair next to it, which wasn’t there that morning.

I guess they’re implying I should sit there.

It was a fine chair too. It was made of wood, but it looked sturdy and large enough to accommodate Ryoma’s hulking physique. Be that as it may, one had to wonder if it was worthy of a noble.

Not a bad chair, in and of itself, but...

It was not cushioned and without any ornaments to speak of. One might even wonder where the House of Lords had found it. A stubborn noble would absolutely refuse to sit on this kind of chair.

But I wouldn’t do that.

An not cushioned wooden chair wasn’t the most comfortable, but it was still an improvement overall. Nonetheless, taking a seat without the director’s permission would be rude. In fact, this might even be a trap.

I want to believe I’m just being overly cautious, but things are very different compared to this morning.

It was just a question of whether he should take a seat or not. Normally, if he’d just sat down in the chair, it wouldn’t have been much of a problem. Despite the difference in their ranks, Ryoma still had a noble title. At most, the other nobles would cock an eyebrow at his impoliteness. But things were different now. Giving the enemy any excuse to get back at him could very well spell the end of Ryoma’s life.

Ryoma stood in the same position as yesterday and bowed his head to the nobles leading the hearing.

“The time you’ve given me to rest was quite valuable. I thank you profoundly for allowing this.”

Marquis Halcyon clicked his tongue. He was no doubt annoyed to see the hearing resume the same way it’d started that morning, but the only ones who heard him do so were the highest-ranking members of the House of Lords, Count Eisenbach and the marquis himself. Marquis Halcyon had kept his voice down lest he be heard, but his annoyance had gotten the better of him.

Ryoma, with his keen sense of hearing, did hear him.

Well, I guess Marquis Halcyon would be annoyed. A low-ranking noble got one up on him and forced him to take a break in the hearing. And seeing things play out the same way they did this morning is going to make him cautious.

Ryoma didn’t mean anything by starting things the same way he had earlier, and if the opposition was that wary of him, it would be unwise to act blindly. Creating needless misunderstandings could send things spiraling the wrong way.

Ryoma raised his head, and the first thing he saw was Marquis Halcyon wearing a very bitter expression. Sitting beside him was Count Hamilton, who had been glaring at Ryoma with anger and bloodlust, but he’d only displayed these emotions while Ryoma kept his head bowed.

As nobles, the marquis and the count knew how to mask their feelings, but the fact that Ryoma had requested they hand over Douglas Hamilton and leave Douglas’s punishment to him in exchange for assuaging his suspicions of the trial’s impartialness must have truly annoyed them. No noble appreciated having to hand over their relatives. Even if said relative was involved in a crime, the rules of nobility dictated that the matter fell to the family head. Count Hamilton allowing Ryoma to handle the matter was unusual.

He probably figured I couldn’t dispose of Douglas within the House of Lords anyway. Plus, he didn’t really have a choice, since if I’d have kept grumbling, it would have invalidated the entire hearing.

As far as Ryoma could tell, the House of Lords wanted to settle the score with him during this hearing. He’d woven his plans around this assumption, and the events of the morning all but convinced him that this was indeed the case. Of course, “settling the score” didn’t mean negotiating a compromise; they wanted to settle things conclusively—by legally executing Ryoma Mikoshiba.

They’d never planned to let Ryoma leave this place alive. With that in mind, it made sense that they broke the established rules of nobility to basically place Ryoma under house arrest here. And it also made sense that the situation turned against them when they were questioned for doing so. Marquis Halcyon’s claims that this harassment hadn’t been initiated by the top brass of the House of Lords was likely true, yet the top brass weren’t entirely unrelated to it either.

He probably figured they’d be executing me either way, so he may as well look away while his subordinates let out some pent-up aggression against me.

This was just proof that they’d already decided how this trial would end, but even if they knew Ryoma’s fate was sealed, the human heart didn’t always abide by one’s plans. Although they were mere hours away from getting what they wanted, the nobles couldn’t restrain their hatred and anger toward Ryoma, even if that outburst was entirely momentary.

In comparison to Marquis Halcyon and Count Hamilton, Count Eisenbach looked composed, as one might expect, but Ryoma could keenly sense the hatred brewing inside the man.

He’s crossing his arms, but they’re shaking. He must really be suppressing a lot of anger at me.

The count was able to maintain a calm smile. Perhaps this was indicative of his superior self-discipline, or maybe, unlike the other two, he hadn’t been as involved in the verbal dogfight that morning. Either way, any hearing spearheaded by these people couldn’t possibly be impartial.

“Now, with your misgivings cleared, I would like to begin today’s hearing,” Marquis Halcyon said and struck his gavel against the sounding block.

This kind of gavel wasn’t used in Japanese courtrooms, but it was used in American ones. It produced a satisfying clacking sound that echoed through the hall and changed everyone’s behavior at once. They had all shifted gears, preparing to begin the hearing.

Yeah, I can see why that’s effective at times like these.

Maybe someone who’d come from Ryoma’s world had introduced the usage of a gavel in court, or maybe the people of Rearth had come to the same idea on their own, but using a gavel wasn’t strictly for appearances.

As that thought crossed Ryoma’s mind, Marquis Halcyon said, “Now then, let the hearing begin.” He looked around the room and paused, then turned his eyes to Ryoma with a severe expression. Behind his gaze was hatred burning with enmity and scorn, but that hadn’t changed since the first moment Marquis Halcyon had laid eyes on Ryoma. What had changed was that this hatred was now charged with bloodlust.

I guess he’s ticked off at me for having caught him with his pants down and for striking a blow on his dignity.

Nobles prioritized appearances and dignity. To those living in the modern world, it felt like nothing more than absurd and empty pride, but for the nobles of Rearth, they were important factors for maintaining their family honor.

There was a comparable example of this in Japanese religion—a portable shrine called a mikoshi. Mikoshi were usually stored in a Japanese temple. The gods said to reside in those temples would then temporarily inhabit the mikoshi so that they could be taken outside the bounds of their temple. Mikoshi were sacred, and they were necessary for maintaining the gods’ might and holiness. A monument made of scrap wood or plastic wasn’t a proper mikoshi, and no person would hold a ritual using one like that. Normally one would carry the most extravagant, dignified mikoshi possible.

Nobles maintaining their family honor was much the same. They only had power and authority as long as they had vassals and citizens to support them. Regardless of whether they achieved that through terror or affection, nobles were only nobles because others saw them as such. No vassal would follow a house head who didn’t have some kind of pretentious air to him, and the same held true for their constituents. As a matter of fact, some nobles had been abandoned by their commoners and vassals, after which they hadn’t been able to maintain their family honor.

An influential family like House Halcyon, which was one of the most prominent houses in Rhoadseria and served as director of the House of Lords, wasn’t going to lose its standing that easily, but the fact remained that a hated upstart had pulled the carpet from under his feet, and this was something Marquis Halcyon couldn’t stand for. There was only one way to ease the pain of that blow.

I guess they’re getting serious.

So far, Rhoadseria’s nobles had just viewed Ryoma as an enemy, but things had now changed. Today, for the first time, Marquis Halcyon marked Ryoma as a personal enemy. His gaze was full of bloodlust that glinted with the sheen of a blade.

Faced with such eyes, no one could be foolish enough to expect a fair, impartial trial—Ryoma had prepared for this to begin with—but when Marquis Halcyon spoke next, Ryoma doubted if he’d heard him correctly.

“That said, I personally feel there’s no need to hear your side of the story, Baron Mikoshiba.”

The nobles around Marquis Halcyon hummed in agreement. There were no doubts anymore concerning the investigation that Marquis Halcyon and the House of Lords were conducting. Whether that was a valid observation or a foolish statement was another matter altogether, but that wasn’t the biggest issue here.

Wow, so that’s their angle.

Ryoma sighed. The House of Lords’ intentions had been obvious from the very beginning, and Ryoma had little trust in this world’s legal system to begin with. However, their blatant partiality naturally made Ryoma feel disgusted. It meant that they’d cast aside any and all pretense of a just cause.

This world is a land of survival of the fittest, and on top of that, its class system is much more rigid than any in modern society. Most of the House of Lords’ nobles are from old families that have been around since Rhoadseria’s founding. By comparison, I’m a nobody who came from nowhere. In their minds, I’m not even in the same arena as them. I guess when you think about it that way, what Marquis Halcyon just said would be obvious to any other noble in this kingdom. Still, if he were to say what he just said in front of a judge or jury in Japan, the attorney would impeach him right away. 

Without a doubt, this had all been to maintain the illusion of a just, impartial trial. What many people who didn’t work in the legal system seemed to misunderstand was that the law didn’t necessarily equal justice. Justice was merely an ideal that existed in the hearts of individual people. And though people’s ideas of justice had some points of commonality, it differed by the individual based on factors like their environment, ideology, religion, and history.

Meanwhile, the legal system was made from the average values formed by a group of individuals. And indeed, most people would accept the legal system’s judgment. Or perhaps one could say that its judgment was within the boundaries of what they found acceptable and correct.

It was natural that they’d feel this way; people with brilliant minds spent an inordinate amount of time and effort to tune the system’s average values into something most people would agree is okay. The law was a measurement of what behavior was acceptable while maintaining the group known as society. That said, even though law and justice weren’t the same thing, there was a great deal of overlap between them, so much so that a lawyer’s badge was fashioned after a scale—the scales being the symbol of the goddess of justice, Themis, the embodiment of impartialness.

But although there was overlap between law and justice, they weren’t exactly the same. There was a subtle discrepancy between them, and a justice system’s credibility depended on how much it could minimize this discrepancy. Of course, a judge was still human, so completely separating the law from one’s preconceptions and sense of personal justice was incredibly difficult. Even gods in myths were prone to becoming emotional and making errors in judgment, so if the gods couldn’t be expected to never make a mistake, a flawed human surely couldn’t be expected to remain perfectly fair and neutral.

For example, it would be difficult to completely remove one’s personal emotions to forgive the culprit in a trial for a crime as heinous as the killing of an infant. Nevertheless, saying that to the defendant’s face was a different matter. If one was about to embark on an act as haughty and patronizing as judging a fellow human being, they had to maintain the appearance of impartial fairness, even if it was just a facade. One had to avoid the implication that a third party was somehow involved in the trial. Whatever one’s feelings were, there were times when being upfront about your thoughts wasn’t the right thing to do.

In that regard, Marquis Halcyon’s behavior was unacceptable, but this was from a modern standpoint.

I guess that even if their positions are similar, the director of the House of Lords isn’t technically a judge, and trials in this world don’t really care much for ethics and the like.

While the ideas of fairness and justice did exist, they weren’t the same as modern society saw them. Even in modern times, the ideas of what justice was varied by time and place, so expecting a different world to carry the same ideas would be pointless.

Not that this means I’m just going to roll over here and let them go ahead with their idea of justice, though.

Ryoma wouldn’t call this world evil altogether, nor would he denounce Marquis Halcyon’s idea of justice, but he had no intention of talking to him in order to smooth over this difference in their ideals. True, dialogue was crucial for understanding one another. People in disagreement could come to a compromise through conversation and put an end to conflict. But in this world, Ryoma also knew that this was nothing but naive idealism.

Yet Marquis Halcyon was too confident in his superiority and had no way of knowing Ryoma’s thoughts. With a vulgar smile that certainly wasn’t appropriate for his high social status, he said, “Baron Mikoshiba, I think you have some misunderstandings about the House of Lords. We take pride in having protected this kingdom as guardians of the law since the country’s founding. And so, before we opened this hearing, we spent months investigating the matter. At this point, hearing the subjective opinion of those involved is unlikely to be meaningful. When all is said and done, there can be no denying the facts. You broke national law and destroyed House Salzberg and the ten houses of the north.”

His words were what everyone in attendance was thinking from the bottom of their hearts, but at the same time, they were inappropriate for the director of the House of Lords who was running this hearing. After all, a hearing’s purpose was to question witnesses and determine if there was a reason to go to trial. Like Marquis Halcyon said, the opinion of those involved was subjective and biased, but that wasn’t a reason to simply do away with questioning the witnesses. If nothing else, doing so would reflect badly on the country.

It was then that another voice spoke from Marquis Halcyon’s side.

“Marquis Halcyon, I think what you say is absolutely true,” started Count Eisenbach. “However, formally speaking, that could be problematic...”

Marquis Halcyon cocked his head curiously. He was apparently pondering if there was any meaning in spending time on a hearing whose verdict was a forgone conclusion, but sensing the truth in the count’s words, he conceded, “No, you’re right. I may have been impatient.”

Clearing his throat, Marquis Halcyon turned to Ryoma again.

“Let us begin the hearing in earnest then, Baron Mikoshiba. Do you have anything to say in your defense with regards to this case?”

Marquis Halcyon’s expression was that of a man confident in his victory. It made sense he would feel that way too.

The facts being what they are...

Ryoma wasn’t going to deny that he’d killed the heads of the ten houses of the north, but that didn’t mean he was going to act the way the House of Lords expected him to and accept the blame for what happened.

“In my defense, you say... It’s true that in this last war, I defeated and destroyed the Salzberg county and the leaders of the ten houses of the north. However, I’m afraid I don’t understand why the House of Lords beckoned me here to this hearing as a result. All I did was act on my debt of gratitude to Her Majesty, Queen Lupis Rhoadserians. I abided by my duty to this kingdom.”

Ryoma’s words echoed loudly within the room, and when he finished, silence settled over the hall. It took everyone a few moments to fully understand what Ryoma had said, but once they did, the hall filled with angry shouts and jeers.

That’s absurd. What is he saying?! Marquis Halcyon thought as he turned to Count Eisenbach, who was seated beside him. None of them could mask their confusion or their shock. Ryoma, on the other hand, was perfectly calm.

That man admitted to starting the war and destroying the Salzberg county and the ten houses of the north. How can he be so calm?!

Marquis Halcyon’s disbelief was understandable; Ryoma had basically admitted to the crime he was accused of, but he’d called into question whether his actions were actually crime or not.

Surely he’s not so oblivious that he doesn’t understand what he just said? No, we’re dealing with this upstart, so that can’t be.

The marquis glared at Ryoma with a composed expression, like he was trying to peer into Ryoma’s heart. Ryoma’s apology was unimaginable, and Marquis Halcyon had to ask himself what Ryoma was trying to achieve with his reply.

“I’m ashamed to admit that I may be too ignorant to understand your meaning, Baron Mikoshiba,” said Count Eisenbach, who was harboring the same doubts as the marquis. “Could you perhaps explain it in simpler terms?”

The count remained as calm and polite as possible and didn’t brush off Ryoma’s reply as the rambling of a simpleton. Maybe he believed that provoking Ryoma at this point would get in the way of the hearing’s progress, and he didn’t want a repeat of what had happened that morning.

Carrying on the conversation and poking holes in my arguments would be much more effective, Ryoma thought. And here I was, expecting them to get emotional and deny everything I say. Ryoma’s opinion on his opponent was improving.

This hearing was effectively a battlefield. Only one thing set it apart from a real battle: to defeat his enemy, Ryoma couldn’t depend on violence, but on his rhetoric.

Strategically speaking, charging at one’s opponent and trying to deny their words out of sheer emotion was a fool’s errand. It was akin to running one’s army into enemy territory without any tactics in mind. It would just lead to a war of attrition.

To the House of Lords, the outcome of this battle was all but decided, so rather than needlessly wasting time at this junction, it was easier to hear Ryoma out and find flaws in his reasoning. Ryoma was just a commoner to them, but his achievements in the civil war and the expedition to Xarooda had made him a hero to the people of Rhoadseria, so letting him speak also made the House of Lords look more respectable.

Unfortunately for the House of Lords, Ryoma had included this in his calculations already, so he recited what he’d practiced ahead of time.

“Even if you ask me that, I’m not sure how to explain it any simpler. I must admit, I’m not sure if I can make you understand.” Ryoma scratched his cheek, acting like a parent embarrassed by his child’s prank.

Count Eisenbach ignored his provocation and said, “I see. I suppose plain men like us can’t hope to understand the intricate ways in which a national hero such as yourself works. Nonetheless, if you do not tell us, how are we to ever understand? Or are you trying to insult us, claiming we are too stupid to understand your meaning?”

Ryoma smiled sarcastically. Honestly, he wanted to nod in the affirmative, but doing so would prompt Count Eisenbach to criticize him for openly mocking them. It would be one step too far from the roundabout provocations he’d used so far, so he had to deny the implication.

“Of course not. That isn’t my intent at all.”

“That’s good to hear,” Count Eisenbach said. “We are, after all, both nobles devoted to serving the royal family. We can’t very well defend this kingdom if we keep arguing over petty misunderstandings, can we?”

The count then scowled hatefully at Ryoma. He was probably hoping to trip Ryoma up with his own words and cut him down in one fell swoop.

“Baron Mikoshiba, you said earlier that you only acted to repay your debt of gratitude to Her Majesty. However, Count Salzberg and the ten houses of the north were distinguished families charged with defending northern Rhoadseria. We are all in consensus that in locking blades with them, you have left the region without leaders and placed the northern borders in crisis. It is also in violation of Rhoadserian law, which forbids private wars between nobles, yet you clearly brought about this situation, Baron Mikoshiba. And you, yourself, admitted to that much earlier. Correct?”

“Yes, it’s true.”

“And despite that, you still claim you don’t understand why you have been called here?”

There was a dangerous edge to Count Eisenbach’s voice that implied he wasn’t going to permit Ryoma to talk his way out of this. Ryoma, in contrast, merely shrugged, as if the count’s menacing tone was nothing but a light breeze.

“To be honest, I haven’t the foggiest clue,” he said boldly.

Ryoma was acting arrogant and brazen. Count Eisenbach looked daunted for a second—he likely hadn’t expected Ryoma to deny his accusations so openly—but he couldn’t very well just drop the matter now.

Count Eisenbach cleared his throat and gave Ryoma a mocking smile. “You’re being oddly ignorant for someone whom the people regard as a ‘national hero,’ aren’t you? Or do you think yourself above the law, being the hero that you are?”

Those words were what Ryoma was waiting for.

“Yes. I do.”

His voice echoed loudly through the hall once again. No one had expected him to actually answer that question in the affirmative. Everyone was rendered speechless, then the next instant, the nobles erupted into angry shouting.

“That’s rubbish! What are you saying?!”

“Did the commoners praising you as some kind of national hero go to your head?!”

The room filled with voices criticizing Ryoma, but he remained completely unaffected by their tempers. He’d just stated his rights, as if to pressure everyone around him.

“I think you’re under some kind of misunderstanding, gentlemen,” Ryoma said, his voice echoing sonorously through the room. “I’m not boasting of my achievements and saying they give me license to break the law. What I’m saying is that I had no duty to obey the law in the first place.”

His words, loaded with the vigor of a skilled warrior, forced everyone to fall silent. After a moment, Marquis Halcyon, who’d held his tongue during Count Eisenbach’s verbal duel with Ryoma, spoke up.

“What do you mean?” he asked, justifiably confused.

“I mean exactly what I said. When I was named governor of the Wortenia Peninsula, Her Majesty granted me unique exceptions. I’m sure that as director of the House of Lords, you’re aware of that, right, Marquis Halcyon? Or did you, as a man in a key position within this country, truly not know about that?”

Ryoma spoke like this was all a trifling affair, but Marquis Halcyon and the other members of the House of Lords went quiet.

“That can’t be...”

No one was sure which of them had said that, but whoever it was, he’d spoken for everyone present. If what Ryoma said was true, the very reason behind this hearing was rendered moot.

Seeing their reactions, Ryoma continued, “When my achievements in the civil war earned me the peninsula, I made several requests of Her Majesty so I could fulfill her order to develop a barren land swarming with monsters and teeming with pirates. I am but a lowly upstart, though. I have no family to depend on, and I lacked any considerable fortune. In order for me to develop the peninsula, I had to ask Her Majesty for all manner of assistance.”

The instant he heard Ryoma’s words, Marquis Halcyon’s expression changed. “Freedom of legislation, military, diplomacy, and finances,” the marquis whispered, guessing at what Ryoma was about to say. The other nobles stirred.

“And exemption from taxation and military duty,” Ryoma appended.

This was something of a famous story among Rhoadseria’s nobles. After the civil war concluded, Queen Lupis had awarded Ryoma with this dubious honor. Having received lordship over an undeveloped frontier land, he’d made a few demands that exceeded all precedents that the nobles, who stressed the importance of history, valued. Still, not even the nobles, with all their hate for Ryoma, could oppose the queen’s choice to give him Wortenia. If they were to do so, the queen would have replied, “You develop that land, then.”

Besides, Wortenia had been a wasteland at the time and incomparable to the lands these nobles ruled over. Queen Lupis couldn’t have ordered any of them to carry out such a reckless request. Doing so would risk breathing new life into the weakened nobles’ faction. Still, she could have given that order anyway.

Even if she didn’t ask us to give up our territories for Wortenia, Marquis Halcyon thought, she could have demanded we contribute the funds necessary for its development.

Marquis Halcyon thought back to the state of the country back then. It would have taken a large sum to develop an ordinary domain, to say nothing of an undeveloped one. All of the nobles knew that. And the land in question wasn’t just any undeveloped land; it was the infamously untamed Wortenia Peninsula. Currently, it was the goose that laid the golden egg, but at the time, it was nothing short of a no-man’s-land. Ryoma was said to have requested one million gold coins from Queen Lupis to fund the development, but the nobles all agreed that even if she’d supplied him with that much money, it would have all gone to waste. No noble wanted to sink money into that land.

At worst, he might have plotted for us to speak up about it, only for us to get dragged into it.

Marquis Halcyon knew of the discord between Ryoma and Queen Lupis now, but back then, he couldn’t have guessed that things would turn out this way. Ryoma had helped Queen Lupis when she was at her weakest, and he’d contributed to her taking the throne after the civil war. No one had suspected that she was trying to lock this hero away in the Wortenia Peninsula with the intention of keeping him there until he died. To Marquis Halcyon, it had all looked like some kind of ploy. The nobles had merely watched on, hating the boy but not daring to speak up. When the expedition to Xarooda began, Marquis Halcyon became convinced his suspicion was correct.

But he accepted the order to join the expedition. He did that out of obedience to the queen, right?

From Marquis Halcyon’s perspective, he didn’t want to go to a neighboring country as reinforcements. His soldiers wouldn’t be allowed to pillage, and he likely couldn’t acquire any new land this way. At most, one would earn the allied army’s gratitude and perhaps a treasured sword from the other kingdom’s king, but at worst, all one would get out of it was a word of thanks. It was an honor, but there was little profit from joining an expedition.

All the same, refusing the queen’s order would have been difficult, and Ryoma hadn’t objected to drawing the short straw, even though he could have used the special privileges Queen Lupis had promised him as an excuse. Ryoma had agreed to the expedition out of consideration for the western continent’s state of affairs, but a noble like Marquis Halcyon, whose first instinct was to protect his own family’s honor, wouldn’t have thought to act that way.

Even now, Ryoma could read Marquis Halcyon’s heart, and he cracked a cold smile.

The Marquis is more or less correct. I did what I did to instill that idea in their heads, after all, Ryoma thought.

Ryoma’s compliance then had thrown a wrench in Queen Lupis’s and the House of Lords’ plans later down the line. His obedience had given the nobles the impression that he was subject to Rhoadseria’s laws like any other noble, and it was the biggest reason they’d never suspected otherwise.

Now was the time for Ryoma to play this trump card he’d kept hidden all this time. No one present could deny his claims. The queen had granted Ryoma those privileges, and none of them could argue against that.

After watching their reaction, Ryoma moved to twist the knife. “But, like I said earlier, I am honored to receive a noble title despite my lowly background, so I couldn’t stand by and watch as the kingdom careened on the edge of crisis.”

“Crisis? And you’re saying that was your reason for defeating Count Salzberg?” Marquis Halcyon asked, directing a hateful look at Ryoma.

Ryoma nodded back, then spoke to strike at the marquis.

“This country is currently overcome with unprecedented chaos, but I’m sure there’s no need for me to clarify the cause behind it.” Ryoma glared at everyone around him, his eyes full of criticism and condemnation.

Rhoadseria’s nobles were harsh governors. It wasn’t unusual for them to sell families into slavery after they failed to pay their taxes or for them to extort attractive commoners or their families after they’d caught the noble’s fancy, forcing them into their clutches. Some were even already betrothed to another.

Incidentally, during the Middle Ages in Europe and across the world, it was said that rulers could invoke the right of the first night, where on the wedding night, a man in power or a priest could bed the bride before the groom did. It was hard to tell if it was but a vulgar story or a reflection of mankind’s dark side, because there were no sources to validate the claim. There were also multiple interpretations of these stories, which contributed to obscuring the truth. Some said rulers only did so to show off their authority and power, while others said there might have been some kind of ritualistic aspect to it. Or maybe it was a sort of tax meant to punish the bridegroom. Morals and justice differed based on historical background and region, so it was hard to assign a reason.

From a modern viewpoint, this idea was barbaric. It was, of course, just a footnote in the history books, but to the people of this world, Rhoadseria’s nobles weren’t that much different from the rulers of the Middle Ages. They might have even been more hellish at times.

The people living in this world were neither saints nor fools. They didn’t openly rebel against the nobility, but that wasn’t to say they weren’t discontent or that they accepted the harsh, terrible reality they lived in.

They simply know that any weapon they use is powerless against nobles who wield the supernatural power of thaumaturgy. 

They were weak, so they had no choice but to keep their mouths shut and resign themselves to the ruling class’s tyranny and despotism. When it came to defending the lives and assets of their families, commoners just kept their heads down and waited for the storm to pass them by.

Nevertheless, patience could only last so long. Their dissatisfaction with the nobility, which remained without an outlet, smoldered deep within their hearts. It was the hatred and anger of the oppressed, passed down from parent to child, and from child to grandchild. The disorder in the kingdom, borne of precarious national politics, just fanned the embers into outright flames.

Question is, can these nobles even understand the consequences of what they’ve done? Honestly, I’m not holding my breath.

Ryoma believed that if the nobles had been capable of understanding their part in it all, then things wouldn’t have gotten this bad to begin with. The truth was that Rhoadseria’s current state was a direct result of the nobles’ tyranny, but it was unlikely they’d admit it just because an up-and-coming noble gently pointed it out to them. And sure enough, their reaction to Ryoma’s angry glare was a chilly one.

“Yes, our country is currently in a state of upheaval,” Marquis Halcyon conceded. “And like you said, Baron Mikoshiba, the cause for it is obvious. However, there’s no guarantee that what you claim is the cause is the same as what we believe.”

Marquis Halcyon cast a suggestive glance at the nobles around him. Everyone understood what he was implying.

When all was said and done, they were intent on shifting the blame. Marquis Halcyon wasn’t completely off the mark, though. In the end, what mattered was one’s position. Who would be taken more seriously, the individual or the noble? Most of the people here saw themselves as nobles before they saw themselves as mere individuals.

“I agree with Marquis Halcyon,” Count Eisenbach said. “And if I may state my personal opinion, regardless of if the country is in a state of turmoil, it does nothing to absolve you of responsibility for killing Count Salzberg and the heads of the ten houses. What say you to that, Baron Mikoshiba? If you claim that you were justified in your actions, please, share with us your hero’s perspective.”

As one of the most high-ranking members of the House of Lords, Count Eisenbach aimed to provoke Ryoma with a storm of vilification. It did not have the desired effect. Ryoma’s assumption had been right, but he only felt tired and resigned.

Guess I was right on the money about them.

Of the many countries in the western continent, Rhoadseria’s class system was particularly rigid. What set it apart from other kingdoms was how the king’s power was greatly restricted.

Queen Lupis’s father, the former king, had acted to have his authority gradually returned to him, but even with his efforts, the road to restoring the royalty’s power was a long one. Rhoadseria’s nobility was powerful, and the country stressed tradition and formality. Rhoadseria boasted four hundred years of history, and the nobility had no desire or intention to change the status quo. To most of them, commoners were merely an asset to make their own lives richer—no different from cattle—and they cared little if their livestock was displeased with how they were treated.

These nobles won’t change, will they? I guess they wouldn’t. Why would they want to change now?

The only time the nobles truly understood the commoners’ fury and resentment was when they erupted, when the commoners came to claim their and their families’ heads.

Sowing contempt of the nobility in the commoners’ hearts to spread chaos in this country is the invisible enemy’s goal. Though, I guess my seeing through that ploy and using it in my favor makes me no better than them. Still, their methods are dirty. I guess I’ll just be satisfied knowing that they get what they deserve.

Since being sent to the Wortenia Peninsula, Ryoma had devised multiple plans, yet not once had he lit the fuse of his own will. All he’d ever done was throw a spark into a vat of oil that had been boiling there beforehand. Even then, he’d never wanted to put those plans into action. He’d always acted to overturn the plans that those lurking and gloating in the shadows of Rhoadseria had set in motion. He’d always acted for one goal and one goal only: to protect himself and the allies under his wing from encroaching danger.

I feel bad for the commoners, being unwitting pawns in all this, but still...

Ryoma was sincere in his sympathy, but he had no other choice but to act the way he did. The commoners’ unrest toward the nobles had smoldered in their hearts long before Ryoma came into the picture, and the country’s ruling classes refused to acknowledge that fact. So once someone ignited that hatred, it would spread like wildfire in a field of thorns, consuming Rhoadseria to its core.

Ryoma didn’t want Queen Lupis or the House of Lords to see the truth of this outcome, and he seriously doubted they were at all capable of doing so. People believed what they wanted to believe, and they were helplessly blind to what they wanted to ignore, so when an upstart from nowhere spoke, the nobles refused to listen, no matter how correct he was. Even if Ryoma were to tell them the truth about the shadow group in the western continent that was pulling the strings from behind the scenes, they would never lend him an ear.

Not that it’s my problem at this point.

If that was what the nobles wanted, it saved Ryoma the trouble of telling them, but things were different if it infringed on the rights and profits of Ryoma and his companions.

The Organization... Whatever their endgame is, they likely want to spread war. I guess they’re like arms dealers and warmongers in my world. I remember reading about stuff like that in comics and books.

Truth was often stranger than fiction, and in this world, that was doubly true. The problem was that there was no telling who the Organization’s lackeys were.

If I’m to believe what King Julianus said, that old guy’s probably the best suspect.

A man’s face crossed Ryoma’s mind—a middle-aged man with a friendly, amicable smile. From the first moment Ryoma met him, he’d felt something was fishy about the man. He was Japanese, just like him, but Ryoma felt no affinity for him, only aversion. Ryoma’s warrior intuition caught onto the devilish aura he gave off. Ryoma had no solid proof about any of this. All he had was his gut, which was warning him that this man was almost certainly guilty. But if his gut was correct, then the Organization’s hand reached deep into the Rhoadserian palace.

No point in even trying to explain all of this to people who won’t listen. It’s about time I bring in the big guns and put an end to this.

Now would be the best time to turn the tides of this hearing, since the nobles’ jeering and mocking laughter had lost much of its intensity.

Ryoma heaved a heavy, theatrical sigh. “I understand. You’ve made your discontent with me quite clear, gentlemen. It seems you and I cannot come to an agreement. I don’t think there’s any point in continuing this discussion any longer.”

Depending on how one interpreted what Ryoma had just said, his words were careless. Indeed, one of the nobles lost his temper, rose from his chair, and shouted at Ryoma.

“What did you—”

But before he was fully upright, he stopped and swallowed the insult that had climbed all the way up his throat. He’d frozen because Ryoma had directed a look of such bloodlust at him that it was unlike anything they’d seen from the baron thus far. Such was the difference between a man who knew the field of battle and one who sat on his laurels and reaped the fruits of his social status. The surrounding nobles all sensed it too.

“Then why don’t we have our great queen take the stage and give us her take on this matter?” Ryoma suggested. “Isn’t that right, Your Majesty, Queen Lupis Rhoadserians?”

This was the final task Ryoma would take on as a vassal of the Kingdom of Rhoadseria.

Everyone in the room was shocked into silence. “What manner of nonsense is he talking about?” one of the nobles murmured.

Marquis Halcyon’s reaction differed ever so slightly from the rest, and Ryoma didn’t overlook it.

It was only a second, but his eyes flicked to the door he left from. So that’s what it means.

Sensing that his guess was correct, Ryoma thrust his blade deeper.

“Or what, you can’t bring yourself to be around me? Are you just going to admit your fault without even showing yourself?”

Those weren’t words one directed at their liege, but they had their intended effect. The door finally opened.

The first thing Ryoma saw was a knight with long black hair. She was clad in full armor, like she was about to engage in battle, and she carried a sword, which was forbidden for anyone who wasn’t a member of the House of Lords. Any knight who broke this rule would usually be sentenced to death for this transgression.

More troubling than the female knight, however, was the woman that followed her.

“Your Majesty? What are you doing here?” one of the nobles muttered.

His surprise was felt by all the nobles. While the House of Lords was part of the palace, the queen herself would never come here.

Marquis Halcyon paid no heed to his colleagues’ surprise and swiftly stood from his chair and kneeled, displaying fealty and respect to his queen. Seeing this, the other nobles snapped out of their shock and did the same. Ryoma, who had called her here, also kneeled.

“It’s been a long time since we last met, Baron Mikoshiba. You may raise your head,” Queen Lupis said, her tone slightly bitter.

Ryoma did as she said and slowly raised his head. His gaze clashed with Queen Lupis’s, and at that moment, the nobles saw red sparks flicker between them. Those sparks were but an illusion induced by the strangely tense air brewing between the two of them, but the nobles certainly did see it. Everyone held their breath. The pressure hanging over the hearing was so intense that one didn’t dare blink. Neither of the two seemed to have any intention of looking away from the other.

Oh, I see. So she’s not stepping down. I suppose she’s matured from the princess I knew back then.

Ryoma had to admit that Queen Lupis had grown. When they’d last parted ways, they had both decided how to evaluate each other. This evaluation had nothing to do with their social position—it was their impression of each other as people. And once someone decided on their impression of another person, it was hard to change it.

Queen Lupis’s resolve in being here was so intense that it changed Ryoma’s impression of her, but their expressions were still opposed. One of them wore a brazen smile, while the other spoiled their beautiful features by letting their expression contort with hatred and anger. Needless to say, the former was Ryoma and the latter was the queen of this country.

I guess it only makes sense, since she can’t choose peaceful reconciliation at this point. She could have ignored my provocation, but she chose to show herself anyway. She must want to put an end to this personally.

There was no need for Queen Lupis to come here. In fact, she shouldn’t have come at all. In times of strife, people sought heroes, and after Ryoma ended the civil war and helped protect the Kingdom of Xarooda from the O’ltromea Empire’s invasion, he became a subject of awe and fear, even if temporarily, and at the same time, a hero.

The queen personally involving herself with judging such a renowned hero would cast an unfavorable light on her. As the queen, she would have to sign off on the verdict either way, but it would have still maintained appearances if she’d merely affirmed the House of Lords’ judgment.

Queen Lupis knew this better than anyone, so she’d watched the entire proceedings from a separate room. Even if she herself didn’t realize it, her aide, Meltina, would have stopped her from interfering, but the fact that she stood here despite all of that could only mean one thing.

She’s going to decide this right here, right now, while she’s prepared for the risks involved. Not an unexpected development. I presented this opening to draw her out and get her to exploit it, so it’s a good thing she fell for it.

Ryoma could sense the conflict growing under Queen Lupis’s mask of animosity and loathing. If one had to fault someone for all of this happening to begin with, the blame lay with Queen Lupis and her decision to lock Ryoma away in the Wortenia Peninsula.

Ryoma had been intent on leaving Rhoadseria after the civil war, but she’d thrust a noble title and a domain upon him in the form of a reward, forcing him to stay in the country. Queen Lupis was certainly the perpetrator for making up this reason, and Ryoma was a victim forced to act in self-defense.

Had Queen Lupis remained as she was a couple of years ago, the guilt would have paralyzed her, preventing her from taking any extreme measures, no matter how much personal dislike she harbored for Ryoma. Despite that, the fact that she’d shown herself—even if it was because of Ryoma’s provocation—proved that she was willing to brave hardship for the good of her kingdom.

You can’t rule over a kingdom with just pretty words and ideals. I won’t say sticking by ideals is wrong, but she just doesn’t...or rather, didn’t understand that you need overwhelming power to act on those promises.

Being a king or leader charged with a country’s future meant they couldn’t waver in their decisions. They couldn’t appear to be indecisive. Of course, even kings were human beings, and they were as susceptible to regret and reflection as anyone else. Nonetheless, a king’s role was to be decisive. If they wavered in their decisions, those working under them wouldn’t know how to act. And at long last, Queen Lupis had no choice but to come to that realization.

It was often said that people grew into their roles. After much hardship, Lupis Rhoadserians had realized what being the leader of Rhoadseria meant.

It’s sad. If she was like this to begin with, she might have been able to...

Ryoma truly believed this, but it was too late by now. The die has already been cast.

“Let me ask you one thing,” Queen Lupis said, breaking the silence. “Why?”

Her question was sorely lacking in context, but to Ryoma, it was clear what she meant.

“You ask why? Does this question even merit an answer at this point?”

Queen Lupis lowered her eyes. She knew that after all this time and all that had happened, it was a meaningless question. Having realized that, she had to once again ask herself why she’d asked him that.

Meltina, who stood at Lupis’s side, directed a concerned glance at her queen. Sensing her gaze, Queen Lupis gently shook her head at Meltina and turned to Ryoma. Her eyes glinted with a stern will.

“Yes, I know that question was nothing but sentimentality. But...but I do need to ask it now, at the very end. I am the queen, after all.”

This was the final respect she would direct to the hero she was about to judge as a criminal. Knowing this, Ryoma answered honestly.

“Well, simply put, I did it because it was necessary for me to survive, I suppose.”

“Necessary to survive?” Queen Lupis cocked her head.

It was a rather pessimistic answer coming from a young hero. If he’d have said he did it all to become king of a country, it would have felt more appropriate. And indeed, the onlooking nobles all gave Ryoma dubious looks. They were all under the impression that Ryoma’s war in the north stemmed from the inappropriate ambition of an upstart who didn’t know his place.

But Ryoma spoke from his heart, paying no heed to the gazes fixed on him.

“Well, a detailed explanation would be time-consuming, and I don’t expect any of the nobles with their fixed, anachronistic ideas to understand, so I’ll just cut to the chase,” Ryoma said with a serene smile. “Put simply, your regime is inefficient and absurd, and I don’t want to get involved in or die because of it. For better or worse, I’m just not that attached to this kingdom.”

To the House of Lords’ nobles, Ryoma’s answer was treasonous, something that human trash who only cared about their own skin would say. However, if one were to think of a country as a company, his words weren’t all that exceptional.

Ryoma was like an employee that the company known as Rhoadseria had picked up in the middle of his career. But no company, no matter how powerful, had a future if the senior staff took bribes and embezzled funds. The company would eventually be criticized for its management policies, the public would lose all trust in it, and it would go belly-up or get bought out.

A new employee who wasn’t used to the company’s politics could advocate for change, but the company would be too fixed in its traditions to do anything, leaving no room for reforms. And with Lupis Rhoadserians sitting at the top with an unsteady rule, staying aboard this sinking ship was all the more abhorrent.

A dictatorship was by no means acceptable, but an indecisive leader warped everything in their own way. At times like this, a new worker with no stakes in the company had just two options: run or fight. While this made sense to Ryoma, these nobles, fixed as they were in their ways and unwilling to feel remorse, couldn’t understand that.

The nobles who’d held their tongues up to this point yelled so loudly that it shook the hall, but their cries meant nothing to Ryoma, nor did they do anything to shake his smile.

“Oh, I just want to clarify something so there are no misunderstandings. I’m not criticizing the way you run things here. I think your methods are foolish and ineffective, but if this is how you run things in this world, it’s not my place to deny or criticize you. You can buy your commoners’ ire all you want, and I won’t say a word, so long as it’s got nothing to do with me. But if the way you act is going to get me or my comrades killed, or jeopardize the fortune and assets my people need to live, that makes it my problem.”

Ryoma’s tone was neutral, but it held within it the stern might of tempered steel. It was the voice of a man confident in the justice of his actions but, at the same time, prepared to accept that others would not understand and oppose him.

“And that’s why you went to war against House Salzberg?” Queen Lupis asked.

“Yes. That man’s greed was too unrestrained, and his people were suffering under his tyranny. With Lady Yulia’s management skills, and with Epirus controlling the economy through its trade union, he was able to maintain a delicate balance, but it was too fragile to last. Any outside pressure would have made it fall apart. Since his territory neighbors mine, I couldn’t overlook that. True, Wortenia is undeveloped land and my population is small, but even so, I couldn’t forsake my duty to them as governor.”

“Yes, it’s a governor’s duty to defend their territory, this much I’ll grant you,” replied Queen Lupis. “But if you knew Count Salzberg’s administration was that terrible, why didn’t you appeal to the House of Lords instead? The laws of this country dictate that the House of Lords is to serve as arbiters in disputes between nobles, and the monarch passes down the verdict!”

The surrounding nobles started jeering at Ryoma.

“That’s right! Why didn’t you turn to us?!”

“This is all an excuse! You just wanted Count Salzberg’s domain for yourself!”

Seeing their reaction, Marquis Halcyon, who’d remained quiet so far, added, “Her Majesty is right. If you truly acted in the favor of the people, why didn’t you report Count Salzberg’s tyranny to us instead of resorting to attacking him of your own volition? Does this not prove that the war was brought on by your ambition?”

It was natural for a citizen of a country to obey its rules, or at least try to, but not even this justified criticism fazed Ryoma.

“No, that’s not why,” Ryoma explained. “I didn’t report it to the House of Lords because doing so would have been a waste of time. You’re all cut from the same cloth as Count Salzberg.” Ryoma then took out a sheet of paper from his pocket and extended it toward Meltina. “I apologize, but could I ask you to have Her Majesty read this?”

Meltina stared at the paper Ryoma held out, and though she glared at him with some bloodlust, she finally accepted it, if only out of respect for the place. Queen Lupis appeared to be interested in the paper’s contents, though. She took it from Meltina’s hands and swiftly unfolded it.

The paper listed the names of the House of Lords’ nobles, as well as countless numbers next to them. At first, Queen Lupis didn’t understand what she was seeing. She glanced at Ryoma, who was still smiling placidly, and tried to glean what meaning she could.

This paper lists the names of Marquis Halcyon and the other nobles in the House of Lords, with numbers allotted to them every month. The only noble listed who isn’t part of the House of Lords is Count Salzberg, at the top here. It’s no use. I can’t make sense of this on my own. But whatever it means, he wouldn’t bring it up unless it was important.

The numbers must have been something that would lend legitimacy to Ryoma’s actions, or at least back them up. A few possibilities came to Queen Lupis’s mind, and one of them was...

“No... Is this...?” The second she thought of it, her features tensed.

“It’s exactly what you think it is, Your Majesty,” Ryoma said, nodding. “These are the sums that Count Salzberg paid to the House of Lords’ nobles every month as support funds. Or, more simply, the bribes he paid them under the table.”

Ryoma’s voice echoed loudly through the room and lingered in the air long after the sound died out. Everyone remained silent. They all looked calm on the outside, but inside their hearts they racked their brains for a way to strike back against this surprise attack.

One of the nobles finally broke the silence. “That’s absurd... What are you saying?”

“A desperate trick to weasel your way out of this, I say!” another noble called out.

“Now, now, everyone. I too have no idea what this is all about, but let’s have Baron Mikoshiba explain this so-called evidence of his.”

“For the time being, I’d like to see what this paper says. We can confirm its validity after that.”

The nobles shouted out in turn, most of them speaking in denial and confusion. Maybe they really had no idea what Ryoma was talking about, or perhaps it was all just acting. Whichever it was, they were either claiming to be unaware or questioning Ryoma’s intentions.

Their reactions were just what one might expect from the monsters infesting Rhoadseria’s nobles. Despite how surprising Ryoma’s words were, the nobles didn’t show any signs of panic, nor did they insist that they were innocent. This wasn’t a movie where the culprit lost his temper and incriminated himself.

Some of them are third-rate actors at best, though, Ryoma thought.

They remained composed on the surface, but Ryoma still caught a few of their faces contorting, a mark of their inability to repress their agitation.

I mean, this isn’t going to stand as evidence in court anyway, so it doesn’t really matter in the end.

The real issue was the nobles who could completely restrain themselves. It was said that being a politician required one to use both one’s true intentions and falsehoods, and that was the same in this world as well. Skilled politicians were, in a sense, highly talented actors who had to maintain perfect control over their emotions. Of those nobles, Marquis Halcyon remained the most collected, and he made his move quickly.

“I wouldn’t want to impose, Your Majesty, but if I may see it too?”

Marquis Halcyon took the paper out of the queen’s hands and scanned it. The nobles around him all watched on nervously. A long moment passed, and eventually Marquis Halcyon snorted derisively.

You fool, this isn’t going to serve as evidence, the marquis thought.

If this document were stamped with House Halcyon’s emblem, things might have been different, but as far as the marquis could see, it was just a sheet of paper with names and numbers on it. Though the marquis had remained composed, Ryoma’s words had still struck panic into his heart. Now, however, he saw that he had nothing to fear. Maybe this was why he was able to expel his anxiety. He sighed, preparing to cut down this upstart’s attempt at resistance and seal his sentence.

“Your Majesty, do not be taken in,” the marquis said quietly. “This is all his pathetic attempt to set us up. I’m sure you’ll see it too if you just calm yourself and think it through.”

Marquis Halcyon chose his words carefully and meticulously, so as to remove the thorn of doubt tormenting Queen Lupis. His long experience had taught him that at times like this, letting his emotions take over while trying to argue his point would only backfire on him.

“Baron Mikoshiba has submitted this to you as evidence, Your Majesty, but as far as I can tell, this is just rows of numbers. There’s no seal or anything of the sort to prove this paper’s validity. Can you really call this evidence, Your Majesty?” Marquis Halcyon asked, pressing on her.

Queen Lupis replied, “That might be true, but...”

As a matter of fact, there were only names and numbers on the paper. There was no telling who wrote it, and it might as well have been written on a scrap of paper someone found on the floor. It wasn’t any more useful than a child’s scribble; it was ineffective in a trial.

Even so, Queen Lupis felt there must have been some significance to Ryoma’s producing this paper at his hearing. After all, it was Ryoma Mikoshiba she was dealing with here—a man she knew to be thorough and meticulous. He wouldn’t present something so laughable as evidence.

Ryoma looked like he’d fully anticipated both Marquis Halcyon’s argument and Queen Lupis’s doubts. “Set you up? I can’t say I appreciate the implication, but I guess this really is weak as evidence goes,” Ryoma said with a serene smile. He then turned to Queen Lupis, who still looked confused. “The paper itself doesn’t mean much, but the numbers written on it are important.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“They were calculated by cross-referencing documents collected by a man, who did so out of disgust with the nobles’ corruption, and documents gathered by Count Salzberg’s wife. It’s a transcript of the sum of gold Count Salzberg sent to the nobles every year.”

Queen Lupis tilted her head in confusion, unsure of what Ryoma meant. Of course, she understood what Ryoma said on a basic level, but she didn’t understand why he’d transcribed it onto this scrap of paper.

“Why not submit the documents themselves, then?” she asked.

It went without saying that an original document was much more useful as evidence than a transcript. In modern society, one could use photographs or photocopiers to produce facsimiles of evidence that were perfectly valid, but that wasn’t the case in this world. The only way to copy something was by hand. Be that as it may, this could lead to falsification and human error, so copies weren’t accepted as valid evidence.

With all that in mind, if Ryoma had the original documents for these figures, there was no reason he couldn’t submit them as evidence. In fact, submitting something this absurd just harmed his reliability. But that was all assuming he expected a fair trial.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Ryoma said with a mocking smile and a shrug. He then glared sharply at the nobles.

The most frightening and foul criminals of all were those who maintained a facade of justice. In modern society, that could include officers of the law, public prosecutors, judges involved in legal institutions, and referees in sports. Either way, justice was meaningless unless it could maintain impartiality.

Not that any society out there is completely impartial. I can’t claim to be unbiased either. No one can, Ryoma thought.

It was akin to referees making calls that favored athletes from their country or hometown. Still, that couldn’t be written off as absolutely wrong. People found peace and a sense of unity in being part of a group, and perhaps that was why living in society meant fighting a constant battle against unfairness and partiality. The question was how one faced up to the unfairness. Should one submit to reality and resent its callousness, or should one fight against the partiality and do everything necessary to win?

In the end, what matters is whose justice is stronger—mine or theirs?

Marquis Halcyon was challenging Ryoma to a verbal battle. While no swords would be swung, it was much like real combat; the objective was to make the opponent submit. In battles like this, tarnishing the opponent’s honor was exceptionally effective, like exposing their bribery, tax evasion, and other forms of corruption.

“I do not believe the House of Lords is impartial or neutral,” Ryoma added. “After all, the House of Lords took sizable bribes to look the other way while Count Salzberg lined his pockets using a salt vein he discovered in the Wortenia Peninsula and mined illegally from for years—even when the peninsula still belonged to House Rhoadserians. I couldn’t possibly bring such important evidence to this den of corruption, could I now?”

This was the biggest bombshell Ryoma had in his arsenal. The moment Marquis Halcyon heard him say that, his expression, which had remained confident and composed, warped at once.

Judging from his face, he didn’t expect me to dig that deep. Well, this is much bigger than just accepting a bribe.

In all developed countries, Japan included, offering and accepting bribes was illegal, but there were still regions in continents like Africa or South America where bribes were a daily occurrence. If this was true in Ryoma’s modern world, then it went without saying that it applied to this less advanced world too. Even Marquis Halcyon and the other nobles must have known that accepting bribes was criminal, but since they’d been doing it for many years, no one was blamed for it.

Nevertheless, the fact that they willfully ignored Count Salzberg’s misappropriation of the salt vein for years in exchange for those bribes changed everything. Rhoadserian law dictated that all resources mined from territory belonging to the royal house were to go to the royal family, and breaking that law was a lèse-majesté, a crime punishable by death.

More specifically, there were forests dotting the country that belonged to the royal family. Hunting in them or even chopping the wood for lumber, which was essential for the people’s daily lives, was strictly outlawed. With that in mind, appropriating a resource as expensive as a salt vein would merit both a death sentence and the wiping out of one’s family, even for major nobles and houses that had existed for as long as the country had.

The question is whether she understands what I’m saying, but she reacted about like I’d expected.

Ryoma turned his eyes to Queen Lupis. Sure enough, what he’d told her hit her like a bolt from the blue, and it was obvious she wasn’t sure how to process it.

“Judging from your expression, I’m assuming you had no idea about the salt vein in the Wortenia Peninsula, Your Majesty. I see. Despite it being such a major case of misappropriation, not a single noble reported it to you.”

According to Lady Yulia’s estimates, the salt vein had generated a revenue of nearly ten thousand gold coins a year for Count Salzberg. Considering that Ryoma was able to squeeze fifty thousand gold coins from Queen Lupis in the name of developing the Wortenia Peninsula, it became clear how large that sum was. And, in this case, the ten thousand gold coins went into the Salzberg county’s revenue. Several companies had worked as go-betweens for the count, so the final sum brought in by the salt vein was probably several times larger. The fact the vein was still not depleted made it even more valuable.

If Queen Lupis had known that this salt vein existed, she’d have gone to any lengths to place it under the royal house’s control. She needed any source of money she could get her hands on to further her policies.

“And that’s why you decided to kill Count Salzberg?” Queen Lupis asked.

“Yes but I had other reasons too. While I don’t imagine the House of Lords is likely to believe my claims, I’m curious to know what you think. Do you understand my motives now, Your Majesty?”

That was an extremely uncomfortable question for Queen Lupis, who wanted to use this trial to eliminate Ryoma. Still, his words were convincing, and even she couldn’t write them off as mere lies.

“Yes, well... Assuming what you say is true...”

“Thank you kindly, Your Majesty.” Ryoma bowed his head reverently to her.

Queen Lupis gave him a terribly sour expression and nodded. She looked aloof on the outside, but she must have been terribly upset. That much was evident from how hard her trembling hands were gripping her seat’s armrests.

But is her anger directed at me or at the nobles?

The answer to that question would sway the outcome of this hearing.

Meltina stood next to the queen, watching her with concern. She also knew Queen Lupis’s personality very well.

She’s definitely conflicted, Meltina thought.

Even from Ryoma’s perspective, it was obvious that the queen was backed against the wall. Logically speaking, Ryoma’s motivations were understandable and clear-cut. Queen Lupis knew this, and if she had any proper sense for politics, she would have canceled Ryoma’s hearing right then and there and thoroughly investigated and denounced the House of Lords’ corruption. If nothing else, she should have paused the hearing so Ryoma could submit the documents that would exonerate his name.

Queen Lupis held her tongue as two emotions tugged her heart in different directions. One was her hatred for Ryoma, and the other was her sense of justice as queen. However, Queen Lupis’s inner conflict was abruptly disrupted.

“This farce ends here,” Marquis Halcyon said, rising from his seat and snapping his fingers.

At his signal, doors on both sides of the room opened, and a group of ten or so knights in full armor filed in, their swords drawn. They silently encircled Ryoma. The air about them indicated that they were prepared to slay Ryoma at Marquis Halcyon’s order. Based on the way they carried themselves, these knights were quite skilled and obviously stronger than even the knights standing guard in this room.

Ryoma merely smiled in amusement. “What is this supposed to be?” he asked, not a hint of fear in his voice. “From the crest on their armor, I assume they’re knights in service to the House of Lords.”

Marquis Halcyon clicked his tongue, a rather rude and disrespectful gesture given that he was in an official setting with the queen present. He was no doubt annoyed by the fact that Ryoma remained completely composed, and he had no intention of answering Ryoma’s question.

The queen, on the other hand, couldn’t hide her confusion. “Marquis Halcyon, what is the meaning of this?” she asked, her voice full of fear.

“I simply thought there was no need to continue this hearing,” he said loudly and calmly. “We could go on, but he will continue insisting that he was in the right. And I’m afraid I haven’t the free time to keep arguing with him forever. I wish to see this concluded within the day.”

“But...it’s worth looking over those documents,” Queen Lupis said weakly.

“Are you going to believe this man’s claims and bring this trial back to square one? You are this country’s queen, Your Majesty, and should you give the royal order to do so, I won’t argue against you. But if that happens, we’ll need to reconsider how we act around you.”

Marquis Halcyon said this with a dark smile, one full of confidence from having occupied a seat of power for many years. He’d already had a minimal cover-up prepared ahead of time, and while his tone was still that of a reverent vassal, his intentions were crystal clear.

Understanding Marquis Halcyon’s implication, Queen Lupis bit her lip. Meltina hurriedly leaned in so no one else would hear her.

“Your Majesty, we should do as Marquis Halcyon says this time.”

“But...” Queen Lupis muttered.

“No, we need to take this chance to eliminate him here and now. The allegations of Count Salzberg’s misappropriation should be investigated, yes, but that’s a separate matter. We can’t afford to turn Marquis Halcyon and the other nobles against us.”

Meltina knew that the correct course of action would be to pursue the truth, but doing so would result in the House of Lords antagonizing Queen Lupis. That could have repercussions on the entirety of Rhoadseria’s aristocracy. The hearing wasn’t worth stopping if that was the risk.

More than anything, we need to put an end to this man right here and now, Meltina thought.

Meltina was willing to brave some risks if it meant seeing this plan succeed, and so was Queen Lupis. They were acting to defend their country from Ryoma, and they couldn’t make mistakes when they were this close to checkmating him.

Queen Lupis nodded gently, averting her gaze from Meltina and turning her back on her own conscience.

Seeing that their exchange had come to an end, Marquis Halcyon nodded deeply, a hint of relief in his expression. He’d expected this outcome. Like Ryoma suspected, this hearing was a facade made up by the House of Lords and the queen to ensure that he was eliminated. Marquis Halcyon knew as much and was relieved to see the last-minute obstacle resolve itself. He was confident that he’d won.

Seeing the marquis rejoice, Ryoma couldn’t help but pity his opponent.

He might be cooperating right now, but this was something of a gamble for him. That woman is just too unpredictable, I suppose.

Lupis Rhoadserians was kind to a fault, and she had a strong conscience, which was why she always ended up losing her nerve whenever the time came to make a political decision. And Ryoma’s words had shaken her heart. Meltina’s actions to suppress the queen’s doubts and spur her to remain firm in her decision was a show of decisiveness. Ryoma honestly praised Meltina for that.

I guess they’ve matured too, but that’s not unexpected.

When Ryoma first met Meltina Lecter, she was by no means a capable aide to her queen. She was fixed on her knight’s ideals of justice with no regard for how other people felt. She was a skilled warrior, and her exceptional loyalty to Queen Lupis made it so no one questioned her place as the queen’s close attendant, but that was all she had going for her. As a commander and a leader, she was utterly inept.

During the civil war, she’d tried to persuade Count Bergstone, who was neutral at the time, to turn to the princess’s side. She brought up the legitimacy of Lupis’s claim to the throne and demanded his loyalty to the crown, but without proposing any recompense for his service. This was enough to illustrate the kind of woman she’d been, but the Meltina Lecter who was only driven by knightly honor and loyalty was gone now.

“Marquis Halcyon...” Meltina rose to her feet and nodded at him. The intent behind her gesture was unmistakable.

Marquis Halcyon noted Meltina’s nod. “It appears we’ve decided. In that case...” He turned to Ryoma with a victorious smile, elated to finally dispose of this troublesome upstart. “All your tricks and your eloquence were in vain, Baron Mikoshiba. The result of your hearing has been decided.”

Given Queen Lupis’s attitude, the outcome was clear. She has made her decision; she would remove this fearful presence, even if it meant turning a blind eye to injustice and corruption.

“So it seems.” Ryoma shrugged indifferently. “It’s a pity, really.”

Ryoma was blessed with a sharp mind and the ability to read into people’s hearts, so he could tell that appealing to Queen Lupis to turn this around would be wasted effort.

Now that the hearing was concluded in the presence of the queen, Ryoma Mikoshiba was liable for his actions. Of course, a hearing was to decide if there should be a trial. Rhoadserian law dictated that the way he and his house would be dealt with would be decided by the palace at a later date, but this was all just a formality. The House of Lords proposed, and the monarch made the final decision. The verdict they would decide was all but carved in stone. Even so, Ryoma remained unperturbed.

“Hm...” Marquis Halcyon studied Ryoma curiously, noticing his composure. “You don’t look as disappointed as you say. But either way, it’s all decided. No more need for bluffing, is there?” Marquis Halcyon nodded briefly at the knights around Ryoma.

“May I ask what you intend to do next?” Ryoma inquired, tilting his head.

“Well, this is just a hearing. We’ll decide how you and your clan will be punished at a later time. Until we do, you will be held prisoner in the castle’s northern tower. That’s all.”

“You mean the tower for holding prisoners?” Ryoma asked.

Marquis Halcyon gave him an amused smile. “Yes. I see you’re already familiar with that tower.”

“Indeed. They say that once you’re sent there, you never see the light of day again, I believe?”

When nobles were deemed guilty of a crime, as long as it wasn’t severe enough for a death sentence, they were typically ordered to surrender themselves to another noble house. On a surface level, they were prisoners, but they were effectively treated as guests.

The nobility was a privileged class, with many families having blood ties to each other, so other nobles were, in a sense, relatives. Indeed, when a death sentence was handed down, even nobles were restrained. No filial connections could alleviate that, especially if there was a chance they might try to escape their punishment. Then where were those nobles imprisoned?

There were two prisons in Rhoadseria for the nobility. One of them was a tower at the south end of the castle, which was different from a normal prison. One couldn’t bring their family or retainers there, but exclusive maids would be appointed to prisoners to look after their daily needs. The food wasn’t the finest cuisine available, but the castle’s cooks still prepared palatable meals. The outfits weren’t extravagant, but they were of good enough quality to retain the nobles’ dignity. To those used to living mansions, where all their needs were tended to, it would have felt like they were in hell, but it was basically as accommodating as the average inn. It was less of a prison and more of a guesthouse for VIPs.

But the northern tower is a whole different story.

Ryoma had asked the Igasaki clan to collect information on it, and as it turned out, the northern tower was basically an execution ground. Nobles weren’t sent there unless they had committed crimes so atrocious that even the nobility couldn’t tolerate them. For example, if a noble killed their house’s legitimate heir in order to usurp the headship, they would be sent there. Succession disputes were a day-to-day occurrence for the aristocracy, but even so, they weren’t tolerated when it became public knowledge. Blood ties were everything to the nobles, after all. Conversely, this meant that such matters were overlooked so long as they weren’t publicly exposed.

Being charged with treason against the kingdom was another case where a noble could be sent to the northern tower. At that point, it didn’t matter if the person in question actually sold out the kingdom or not; all that mattered was that they were suspected of treason.

Those two cases had one thing in common: they were intolerable threats to Rhoadseria’s order and regime. Very few people were actually sent there, though. Some were executed after an official trial, but the majority of them passed away while incarcerated. No one knew the truth as to how they died, whether it was the prison’s unsanitary conditions or a secret execution during torture. The only ones who knew were the House of Lords’ top brass, who managed the northern tower.

By the look in Marquis Halcyon’s eyes, it was easy to imagine what end he had in store for Ryoma.

“I see,” Ryoma whispered.

“Does it displease you to hear that?” Marquis Halcyon asked, tipping his head to the side. “If anything, I’d like to ask you something. Did you really think you’d be able to absolve yourself here? If so, I’m afraid your reputation as a wise, shrewd man was quite misplaced. If anything, the fact that you walked in here to begin with is laughable. Or what, did you think you’d manage to slip away?”

Marquis Halcyon signaled to the knights surrounding Ryoma. The knights all stood at the ready, prepared to cut him down if he did anything suspicious.

“You might not know this, Baron Mikoshiba, but this room has a thaumaturgical seal on it that impedes the activation of thaumaturgy. One cannot invoke martial or verbal thaumaturgy in this hall. On top of that, the knights outnumber you, and you are unarmed. Now, you being the skilled warrior that you are, you might be thinking of a final act of resistance to escape, but let me warn you now. That is impossible.”

The room did have multiple thaumaturgical seals applied to it. As Marquis Halcyon had said, one impeded the activation of thaumaturgy, making it impossible to transport into this room from the outside, and the other seals increased the walls’ hardness. Even mighty warriors like Robert and Signus were stripped of thaumaturgy here, and for how monstrous their strength was, they were still human.

“Very well, then. As Director of the House of Lords, I declare, under the sanction of Queen Lupis Rhoadserians of Rhoadseria, your actions are unlawful and unjustifiable. Your future punishment will be decided in an official trial, to be set at a later date. Until then, your title and rights as a noble will be suspended, and you will be held in the northern tower.”

At that point, Marquis Halcyon fell silent for a moment and examined everyone’s reactions with a smile.

“Lastly, I have a thought. I’m sure Lord Mikoshiba has things he’d like to tell us, but what say you, gentlemen? It’s not likely we will ever meet this young hero of ours again. Should we take this chance to hear his last words to us?”

All the nobles laughed out loud.

“I see! A fine idea,” one noble said.

“Yes, I think we should hear him out, despite his grandiose delusions, if only to ensure a case like his will never occur again.”

Asking Ryoma for his thoughts wasn’t wrong in and of itself, but they were clearly doing it maliciously, out of a desire to mock him. They didn’t believe Ryoma would actually answer anything they asked. All they wanted was to humiliate the man who criticized them and ignored their customs. They wanted to hear a defeated man speak of his frustration and anger and laugh at it.

However, though Ryoma only heard sneers and jeers, his attitude didn’t change. He merely shrugged.

“I don’t have much to say right now, but I think you made a few mistakes, Marquis Halcyon, so I’ll take this chance to correct you.”

“Mistakes? Me?” Marquis Halcyon frowned, looking puzzled.

The onlooking nobles reacted much the same. Ryoma paid them no heed and raised an index finger.

“Yes. Here’s your first mistake. Even without martial thaumaturgy, at your level, I can still easily kill every single person in this room.”

Saying this, Ryoma walked toward one of the knights holding their sword at the ready. His movements were smooth and natural, neither fast nor slow. Having closed the distance, Ryoma held up his right palm against the knight’s armored stomach.

This wasn’t a blow, of course. All he did was touch the knight’s body. But one thing was out of the ordinary. Just as his palm was about to touch the knight, the knight’s large body sank ever so slightly. Everyone who watched, Marquis Halcyon included, only saw Ryoma touch the knight and nothing else, but the next instant, the knight let out a groan and collapsed to the floor, coughing up a startling amount of blood.

Everyone was speechless. It was all too sudden for them to keep up. Indeed, with his large physique, Ryoma could have possibly punched out the knight, but in terms of damage, that wouldn’t have achieved much. Even if he’d landed a blow on his armor, it wouldn’t have been fatal.

But the reality that just played out before the nobles’ eyes proved otherwise. Only one man in the room maintained his composure.

“Oh, pardon. I shouldn’t have said ‘easily.’ That was a bit of a lie. I mean, my grandfather could probably slay amateurs like you with one blow. I just don’t have his experience, I’m afraid. Either way, his stomach is ruptured, so if you just leave him here or don’t get him the right treatment, he’s going to die. But I guess I should show him a warrior’s compassion and put him out of his misery.”

Saying this, Ryoma scratched his cheek awkwardly, looked at the knight writhing in pain and coughing up blood on the floor, and stomped on the back of his head. He crushed the man’s neck—like he’d just squished a bug.

No one could utter a single word. Their minds couldn’t understand what had just transpired, their thoughts grinding to a halt. They were like deer, transfixed in place by approaching headlights.

The knights surrounding Ryoma slowly inched away, distancing themselves from him. They could tell on an instinctive level that compared to the man smiling calmly before them, they were nothing but pitiful prey to be devoured.

Ryoma raised another finger. “And, as for your second mistake... You’re right in that I don’t have my personal sword with me. The bailiff confiscated it. But that doesn’t mean I’m unarmed.”

As he finished speaking, three of the knights holding Ryoma in check dropped their swords to the floor and grabbed their faces. Agonized gasps escaped their mouths as blood leaked from between their fingers, dripping to the floor.

“Wh-What is... What’s gotten into you?!” Marquis Halcyon called as the knights sank to the floor, groaning.

Ryoma had attacked the knights in some way; that much was obvious. But the marquis had no idea how Ryoma had done it. As far as he and the other nobles could see, Ryoma’s body hadn’t moved.

Just then, one of the knights hurried over to one of his kneeling comrades and picked something up from the floor. “This is...an iron ball? And the way it’s colored... Is this made of gold?” He held up a metallic sphere, roughly the size of a marble.

“There’s one over here too,” another knight said. “And it’s wet with something?”

It wasn’t blood. It was some kind of viscous, transparent fluid. The knights were confused by this fluid, which wasn’t something they often encountered. Sadly, they would never find out what the fluid was.

Ryoma casually approached one of the knights who’d failed to grasp the situation, his right hand dangling at his side. He then swung his arm up, like he was cracking an imaginary whip, from the lower right to the upper left. Its trajectory was that of an upper left slash in fencing.

At this point, the distance between Ryoma and the knight was nearly two meters apart. A sword or a spear would have connected with his opponent, but his bare hands wouldn’t reach their mark. Nevertheless, the moment Ryoma swung his arm, the knight’s skull shattered with a sickening sound. It was like watching a pomegranate rupture.

“What’s more, no one said I only had one weapon on me.”

Ryoma revealed the weapon in his hands—a long chain with counterweights on each end. Its length was just short of a meter, and it looked to be an ordinary chain at first glance. Not many would assume it was a weapon for the simple reason that the chain’s links were rather small. It didn’t look like a boorish weapon, but rather like a refined accessory. The atrocious force it packed, however, was as demonstrated. Its strike was equivalent to being beaten with a war hammer.

“What is that?!” Count Hamilton shouted, kicking his chair as he got to his feet. “Where did you get that?! You were stripped of all your weapons before coming here!”

His surprise and anger only made sense; he was charged with the House of Lords’ security, and the failure of his subordinates reflected on him. Be that as it may, his responsibility in this was no matter when his life was presently in danger.

“Yes, I was disarmed and was even subjected to a body check afterward.” Ryoma shrugged. “I suppose the ones doing the check didn’t see this chain as a weapon.”

When Ryoma marched into the House of Lords, which was effectively enemy territory, he’d already taken every possible precaution. One such preparation was ensuring that he always had some means of protecting himself.

Not bad. And the endowed thaumaturgy seems to be working properly.

Ryoma had known ahead of time that no one but the knights working in the House of Lords were allowed to bring in weapons, so he’d crafted a few countermeasures for that. For instance, earlier he’d used a weapon called a finger projectile—a hidden weapon used in Chinese martial arts—to shoot through a knight’s eye. The spherical projectiles were hidden on a bracelet on his right hand. In other words, they were beads on a rosary. Such rosaries weren’t typically worn by men in this world, but since it was fashioned out of gold, the ones conducting the body check had assumed it was an ornament.

If I were to say I got it from an eastern-continent merchant, no bailiff without a noble title would be able to confiscate it. Conversely, the fact they put me through a body check at all was pretty dangerous for them.

The bailiffs must have known, on some level, what the House of Lords’ top brass had planned for Ryoma. Nevertheless, they were dealing with a national hero, so the prospect of provoking him too much had been frightening. Indeed, it was difficult to forbid a noble from bringing in ornaments like this. Even if they were to follow regulations and forcibly confiscate them, it could cause them trouble later down the line. After all, nobles were given preferential treatment. Of course, as security for the House of Lords, the right thing to do would be to confiscate such ornaments, but to do so in this situation, the bailiffs needed guarantees that the House of Lords would protect them from the nobles’ retribution.

This wasn’t unlike how police officers in Ryoma’s world had to be cautious with using their firearms. It was part of their job, but the mass media and citizens’ groups could blame them for using excessive force, prompting the police’s top brass to issue an official apology. Most of the time, improper use of their firearm ended in demotions or a lowered merit rating, but some officers had been forced to resign or dismissed for disciplinary reasons. Some cases were even treated as criminal offenses. Police officers in Japan were only allowed to fire their weapons in emergencies where their own or a third party’s life was in danger, but faced with such an extreme life-or-death scenario, they had to bear the risk of a demotion or a dismissal.

In this world, on the other hand, mistakes on the job weren’t written off with just a dismissal or a demotion. One’s life hung in the balance, and not just their lives, but the lives of their families and loved ones. The gulf between the nobility and the commoners was that vast, and even within the aristocracy, there was a difference between having noble blood and holding a noble title.

As far as Ryoma knew, none of the bailiffs held noble titles, but assuming they wouldn’t confiscate these things was still a gamble. Maybe that vigilance would have earned them some kind of compensation from Count Hamilton, but what would happen if the count hadn’t offered any? The brutal conclusion would have been beyond description. No one was so loyal to their work that they would brave that much danger for it.

In the end, if a workplace won’t protect their subordinates, those subordinates will run to defend themselves. People are all the same, even in this world. Still, I can’t assume something like that absolutely wouldn’t happen.

For how selfish and self-serving people could be, they would sometimes risk their lives for justice and their responsibilities. Realistically speaking, though, cases like that were few and far between, which was why they made such impressive tales.

With this thought in mind, Ryoma increased the speed with which he spun his weighted chain. The whistling sound of it cutting through air filled the room.

This feels right. There’s always a difference between training and real combat, so I was a bit concerned, but it looks like there won’t be any problems.

Marquis Halcyon didn’t know this, but for a hidden weapon, a weighted chain was quite long. All the same, since each link was small, it could be folded up and carried in one hand, making it both compact and easy to spin. This also meant it was lightweight.

These were major advantages for a hidden weapon—by design, they were made to be difficult to detect so as to catch the enemy by surprise—but their disadvantage was their lack of lethal force. Swords were much more effective for killing, so many hidden weapons employed poison in an attempt to increase their lethality.

To that end, no matter how shaken the knights were by Ryoma’s words, a normal weighted chain would not have been able to smash a knight’s skull through his helmet with such ease. The one Ryoma wielded, however, compensated for its lack of lethal force by other means.

I’m sure my many specifications for making this put Nelcius through a great deal of trouble, but it was worth it.

Holding the chain in his hands, it certainly felt like it packed sufficient weight as a blunt weapon. By consuming Ryoma’s willpower and prana, it reached a maximal weight that was, at most, twenty times its original weight. Needless to say, this was thanks to the endowed thaumaturgy applied by the Wortenia Peninsula’s dark elves.

“So, what are you going to do?” Ryoma asked as he paced toward Marquis Halcyon and the other nobles. “It looks to me like you’re getting cold feet here, but don’t tell me you actually expected me to go along with your orders.”

Ryoma advanced with a monarch’s stride. Something overflowing from his body overwhelmed the people around him, leaving them awestruck.

Marquis Halcyon, who’d frozen in place from terror, suddenly lashed out as Ryoma approached him. “Wh-What are you doing, you fools?! Kill him! Kill this man!” he shouted hysterically—an unsightly scream completely devoid of the composure he’d had just minutes ago. No one mocked Marquis Halcyon for it, though; the other members of the House of Lords all felt the same way.

Nonetheless, the knights showed no signs of obeying the marquis. They might have wanted to obey, but their bodies simply refused to move.

“Get away! Get some distance from him and regroup!” one of the knights called out, aiming his sword at Ryoma.

Perhaps spurred by his sense of duty and purpose, the knight stepped forward, but the next instant, his face caved in with a dull wallop. He crumbled and clattered to the floor, his gaze fixed upward.

One by one, the remaining knights met the same end, blood and flesh spurting from their bodies. The counterweighted chain whirred as it spun through the air, its movements almost performative in their gracefulness.

The counterweights spun in a small circle around Ryoma, forming a barrier of sorts. A perfect balance of attack and defense, it created a typhoon made of human malice, and any who dared enter the typhoon’s range would meet the same gruesome end. That didn’t mean that staying outside its range ensured one’s safety, though. The typhoon could easily change its range in accordance with Ryoma’s wishes. At times it wasn’t a spherical barrier at all; Ryoma could launch it like an arrow through his opponents.

“Damn monster...” someone muttered.

Those two words embodied what everyone in the room, besides Ryoma, was thinking. Their complete superiority over Ryoma had been spectacularly overturned, and the House of Lords’ nobles all shuddered in fear.

They had assumed Ryoma would resist to some extent, but they’d figured it would have all been weak, laughable, and in vain. He was a so-called “national hero” and a famous warrior, so some resistance was to be expected, but that was exactly why they’d used this room, which prevented the use of thaumaturgy. This was why he’d been subjected to a rigorous body check, although most nobles were not. Yet despite all their assumptions and planning, they hadn’t expected him to resort to such brutal force.

It was then that Marquis Halcyon’s eyes turned to the sentries standing against the wall.

“Dammit! What are you just standing there for?! Stop this man! Stop him!”

Marquis Halcyon’s anger was understandable, considering that he couldn’t have the sentries merely stare at Ryoma slack-jawed, no matter how unexpected Ryoma’s actions were. But even though Marquis Halcyon barked orders at them, the sentries didn’t budge. They remained there, standing at attention. One almost had to wonder if they were wax dolls.

“What’s wrong with you?! The marquis gave you an order! Are you deaf?!” cried a noble who’d watched in silence so far. He got to his feet, outraged, and grabbed one of the nearby sentries menacingly. “What are you just standing there for?! Hurry up and stop him!”

For all the noble was concerned, the marquis had issued an order. The other nobles in the room likely felt the same way, but all their expectations were betrayed in a most unexpected manner.

“Your voice is so irritating.”

The words had leaked from Ryoma’s lips, but it wasn’t apparent to whom he was whispering. In less than a second, the head of the noble grabbing the sentry went flying through the air.

“Wh-What?!” one of the onlooking nobles exclaimed.

They watched in disbelief as one of their own fell to the ground, dead and bereft of their head. Standing beside him was the sentry he’d grabbed onto, and the bloodstained sword the sentry gripped in his hand told the story of what had just transpired.

Though it was obvious what had happened, the reality of it wasn’t any clearer. This was more shocking than the brutal murders Ryoma had committed earlier. After all, the sentries standing at the walls were on the nobles’ side, yet one of them had killed a member of the House of Lords, so they couldn’t grasp the situation.

On top of that, fear for their own lives was now brewing in their hearts. They were faced with a demon who cared nothing for their status as nobles, and the ones who were supposed to defend them stood still as statues.

Reveling in their fear and confusion, Ryoma laughed loudly. “Oh, this is amusing. Seeing the way arrogant men like you go from being confident that you’re at the top of the world to having your hopes crushed to dust.”

Ryoma raised his left hand high in the air, showing it off to the nobles. With that signal, the sentries near the wall drew their swords. This alone was proof that they obeyed Ryoma’s orders, which demonstrated just how far Ryoma had gone to actualize his resistance.

Did he bribe them? Blackmail them? No, that’s not what’s most important here. This man, he’s really going to betray Rhoadseria!

The second Marquis Halcyon arrived at this conclusion, he felt something cold run down his back. The other nobles came to the same conclusion too.

“You curs... You wouldn’t...”

“The damn upstart is thinking of...”

The answer to that question went without saying, but no one could bring themselves to finish that sentence. The nobles then screamed in anger, many of them prepared for what was to come. While they were human trash, they were no fools. They’d received the finest education in this world, and maintained their might as the select few to serve as members of the House of Lords. They knew that raising their voices was meaningless now, but their pride as nobles wouldn’t let them acknowledge that fact.

Ryoma then lowered his hand, as if swinging the blade of judgment down upon them.

As the nobles kicked their chairs away and attempted to flee, the sentries thrust their swords into their backs. The nobles had some combat experience, and they tried to snatch the sentries’ swords and fight back, but they were cut down and sank lifelessly to the floor.

As this took place, Marquis Halcyon prioritized his survival. He ran off in an attempt to protect himself. He was headed for the door to the adjacent room, where Queen Lupis had waited before entering this hall, but just as he was meters away from it, his path was blocked and he was pressed against the wall.

“Lady Lecter! Do something to stop that man! That...monster!” Marquis Halcyon yelled, seeing Meltina standing faithfully at Queen Lupis’s side.

The marquis was already surrounded by sentries with their blades drawn, but for all his cries for help, Meltina didn’t so much as flinch. All she could do was protect her liege, who was shivering in terror at the atrocity Ryoma had enacted.

“Now, let’s end this,” Ryoma declared. “Kill them.”

The next moment, countless swords gouged into Marquis Halcyon’s body.

Nobles and knights lay lifeless on the hearing room’s floor. Some were missing their heads, while others were missing chunks of their chests. The ways they’d perished were different, but they all shared the same outcome.

The only ones still alive were the man behind this tragedy and the Igasaki clan members who were disguised as the sentries. And in the corner of the room was the sound of labored breathing—the breathing of the highest-ranking person to survive this brutality, Queen Lupis.

The storm of violence she’d just witnessed had likely scarred her heart and mind. The way she was holding on to Meltina, who stood nestled against her, and refusing to let go spoke to her mental state.

They call her a princess general, but she doesn’t carry out the true horrors of the battlefield. If anything, the fact that she’s not running and screaming means she’s calmer than I expected.

Ryoma had no intention of disposing of Lupis Rhoadserians at this point, but they had no way of knowing that. The fact that Ryoma had rebelled so openly against the Kingdom of Rhoadseria made it seem like there was no reason he wouldn’t kill Queen Lupis right here, right now.

Ryoma was a fair man, but he was merciless to those who bared their fangs at him. Queen Lupis and Meltina knew this about him, so they naturally feared for their lives. Yet despite this, they didn’t try to run, nor did they criticize Ryoma for his actions.

Ryoma found this quite unusual. He was surprised that Meltina Lecter hadn’t drawn her sword and tried to attack him, even if she knew that doing so would put her queen in danger. If she was wise enough to understand that and not attack him, he’d expected her to at least hurl an insult or two.

So she’s not doing it, because she knows it’s pointless. I guess she’s matured a little, in the end? Or maybe...

Unfortunately, he had no time to pursue this doubt.

“Well, now that we’re done cleaning up the trash, I think it’s about time we leave this place,” Ryoma said as he wound the counterweighted chain around his arms. “From the looks of things, I doubt you’re in the state of mind for peaceful conversation.”

He bowed deeply to Queen Lupis—a perfect, exemplary bow that would shame no noble—then raised his head and flashed her a provocative smile.

“Now then, Your Majesty. I look forward to the next time we meet.”

While his court mannerisms were perfect, his words were a declaration of war. He’d told her to her face that the next time they met would be when they locked blades on the battlefield.

Ryoma turned around and walked out of the hall. The Igasaki clan members disguised as sentries followed him like shadows. The sight of him leaving was the very image of a new conqueror’s march.

Queen Lupis could only watch his departure. From her perspective, all she wanted was for him to get away from her as soon as humanly possible. Upon confirming that Ryoma and the sentries had left, she let out a deep breath, all the stress draining from her body.

Seeing her liege like this, Meltina embraced her. “Your Majesty, rest easy.”

“Meltina... I’m sorry...” Queen Lupis muttered, looking up at her with tears in her eyes.

Her tears were neither from the fear of losing her life nor from the relief at the threat being gone. Her tears were ones of guilt. Meltina had told her not to come here today, but she’d insisted on having her way, placing both herself and Meltina in harm’s way.

Meltina shook her head. “No, Your Majesty. You have nothing to worry about.”

“But...our collaborator, Marquis Halcyon... This means...” Queen Lupis whispered, looking at the corpses piled up around them.

The House of Lords, the most prominent members of the nobles’ faction, were now dead. They weren’t Queen Lupis’s subordinates, but they were influential collaborators in this incident. It only made sense that she would be wary of what was to come with them dead.

Meltina, however, smiled. She didn’t think there was any reason to panic.

“True, Marquis Halcyon’s death is a painful blow, but after this atrocity, all the nobles who haven’t declared their stances with regards to that man will grow to hate him all the more. Of course, some might join his side, but the majority of them will loathe him for it. In other words, Rhoadseria will be divided between those on your side and those under his banner.”

“But that...that would bring a conflict bigger than the civil war,” Queen Lupis murmured fearfully.

Meltina nodded. “Yes. In all likelihood, this war will be much bigger than the civil war. It will be a great war, with Rhoadseria’s survival hanging in the balance.”

All the color drained from Queen Lupis’s face. If such a war were to break out, the conflict would ravage the land, and the commoners would get caught in the cross fire.

Meltina had predicted Queen Lupis’s terrified reaction. “You have nothing to worry about, Your Majesty,” she assured her liege. “If anything, this is a chance. A perfect chance for you to seize the initiative.”

Queen Lupis stared at her, confused.

“We must return to the palace right away and declare that he is a traitor. We’ll then issue a manifesto, calling for the organization of an expedition force to eliminate the traitor.”

“You’re saying we should...take the initiative and strike first?” Queen Lupis asked. “But, it’s him we’re dealing with here. I’m sure he’s calculated how we’ll act and made his own plans.”

“Yes, but with this, we can turn all the indecisive nobles against him. And now that most of the key figures of the nobles’ faction are dead, it’ll be easier for you to take charge of the situation.”

“You...” Queen Lupis felt the breath catch in her throat. “Did you...predict this...?”

The queen’s eyes settled on Marquis Halcyon’s dead body lying on the floor. She then looked at Meltina, her eyes accusing and reproachful. Yes, she had clashed with the nobles over government affairs, but she had allied with them concerning this matter, even if only temporarily. She couldn’t tolerate the idea of planning things around the death of these allies.

Despite Queen Lupis’s accusatory stare, Meltina seemed perfectly calm. “Not at all. I wouldn’t plan something like this.”

Meltina denied the idea, but the dark smile that momentarily flashed on her lips told the entire story. It rendered the queen completely speechless.

Queen Lupis understood that Meltina was right. Because the nobles had held on to their local authority, Queen Lupis had never really been the ruler of this country in the truest sense of the word. Winning the civil war had earned her the crown, but in truth, she was neither a monarch nor a tyrant. She was a supervisor who struggled to keep her subordinates under control.

In that regard, it was by no means bad news for her that the selfish, self-serving nobles who’d made light of and looked down upon her were gone. While it would be difficult to take command of the other nobles when they were so blind with rage and a desire for revenge, they would definitely remain fixated on Ryoma Mikoshiba until they’d conquered the Wortenia Peninsula.

That much was fact, and Meltina’s suggestion was a good decision overall, but it was also too calculating and self-serving. Queen Lupis didn’t know Meltina to be this kind of woman. What’s more, she didn’t know Meltina to be this good at adapting to the situation. Meltina wasn’t incompetent, but she was impulsive and imprudent, so watching her propose such a precise countermeasure on the spot was strange in and of itself.

I know Meltina’s matured over the years, but...

Meltina was currently charged with managing Rhoadseria’s public order. If one wanted to be optimistic, they could assume that Meltina had grown exponentially due to this role, but viewed with a healthy dose of pessimism, the answer took a much darker turn.

So she knew this was going to happen? Or she at least considered it as a possibility?

Meltina had either thought of it on her own or someone had given her the idea. The real issue, though, was that Meltina hadn’t told Queen Lupis.

Meltina... Not you too...

This thought wiped away any terror Queen Lupis held for Ryoma. She understood why Meltina hadn’t told her about this possibility; it was because she wasn’t one hundred percent sure it would happen. Queen Lupis could tell that much from how Meltina had reacted to the incident, and it was evidently why Meltina hadn’t refused her queen’s wishes.

If she knew this was going to happen for sure, she would have definitely stopped him. Even though it was my choice to come here...

An indescribable sense of loss gripped Queen Lupis’s heart. She couldn’t quite understand what it was, but it felt like she had just lost something very precious.

Meltina had no way of knowing what her queen was feeling. “Besides, we had no way of knowing whether another rebellion might break out,” Meltina whispered softly as she gazed at the door like she was gazing at prey in the distance.

♱

The corridor seemed to extend into the darkness. The air was thick with the smell of dust and mold, indicating that it hadn’t been used in a long time. The sound of countless footsteps bounced off the stone walls and floors as Douglas Hamilton led the group as a guide. Ryoma Mikoshiba followed him, protected by the Igasaki clan members disguised as knights. They’d already walked several kilometers, using a torch to light their way, but even with their bodies reinforced by martial thaumaturgy, this was still a long trek.

This corridor had been built during Rhoadseria’s founding as an escape route for the royalty and nobility in case the castle was attacked. It was an underground tunnel that led from the House of Lords to the forest north of the capital.

“We should be there soon,” Douglas said, turning around to look at them, his expression strained. After having been driven past the point of no return, he had no choice but to obey Ryoma.

I guess it’s still not easy for him to just accept that, though.

Douglas had waited for Ryoma outside the hearing hall’s door to lead him to the escape tunnel, meaning that he’d witnessed the bloody tragedy that had taken place. The image had been seared into his mind, but he hadn’t stepped into the room and confirmed the corpses one by one. He’d merely caught a glimpse of it when Ryoma came out. Nevertheless, as a mere bailiff, the sight of his colleagues’ and his superiors’ dead bodies must have been a shock to him.

Still, it’s not as important as his daughter’s life.

Douglas Hamilton was a textbook example of someone who accepted bribes, but that didn’t mean he was scum completely bereft of human empathy. He simply needed more money than his position in the House of Lords afforded him. His daughter was afflicted with an incurable disease, so he needed funds to extend her life and was willing to stoop to any low to obtain them. That was all there was to it. That was why he’d taken Ryoma’s deal.

Even if it meant giving up his pride and glory as a noble. That’s some impressive resolve, in a sense.

Douglas cast everything away for his daughter’s sake. That was easier said than done; few people would truly go that far. The intent of their actions aside, people like that could be useful.

As that thought crossed Ryoma’s mind, Douglas stopped in his tracks. It appeared that they had reached a dead end.

“It’s this way. Wait a moment,” Douglas said and approached a pillar to the right.

He operated something on the pillar, then the wall that blocked their path forward noisily parted to the left and right, opening to reveal a path ahead. They climbed up the staircase for what felt like a hundred or so steps before running into another dead end. Hamilton then operated another contraption, which opened another passage in the wall.

“Oh, I see. This path connects to a cave in the forest,” Ryoma noted.

The exit led into a natural cave of moderate size. The cave extended for a few dozen meters, after which they stepped out into sunlight.

“Master Ryoma, we’ve been waiting for you,” said Laura and Sara. They had changed out of their usual maid outfits and had instead donned leather armor, like they were prepared for battle.

“I see you made it out of the capital safely,” Ryoma said as he walked toward the exit. “So, were there any problems?”

Ryoma had prepared everything meticulously, but there were no absolutes in life, and nothing mattered more than a constant supply of information, especially at times like this, when the situation was changing by the minute.

“Lione has the soldiers on standby outside the cave, as planned,” Laura replied promptly. “Lady Salzberg has already escaped the capital and is headed east.”

The shortest path to the Wortenia Peninsula from the capital was to go straight northeast, but of course, the enemy was well aware of that. Instead, all the noncombatants—like Lady Yulia, the maids, and the cooks—had boarded a Christof Company carriage that would take them to the Kingdom of Myest, where they’d sail into Sirius.

“I see. What about the Counts Bergstone and Zeleph?”

“They’ve already vacated their domains and taken their families north.”

“And what about their guards?”

“Sir Ryuusai and Lady Oume are guarding them from the shadows, and they have Lady Dilphina’s unit backing them up as well. They should be fine.”

Ryoma nodded.

Count Bergstone’s and Count Zeleph’s domains weren’t particularly large, but their vicinity to the capital was proof that the kingdom had trusted the two houses. However, if they were to break away from Rhoadseria, this advantage became a disadvantage.

It’s only a temporary affair, but it’s still impressive that they decided to do this.

These were the lands they’d governed carefully for many years. Leaving them behind to join a nascent faction required a great deal of resolve. After all, they stood to gain if Ryoma won this war, but if he lost, they would lose everything. The only thing that would remain to their names would be the dirty label of foolish traitors who tried to sell out their country. But Count Bergstone and his party had decided to bet everything they had on Ryoma’s success nonetheless.

“Yo, boy. From the looks of things, everything went according to plan.”

When Ryoma left the cave, Lione spotted him and gave him a friendly tap on the shoulder. She treated him like one might treat a friend from school, but no one found fault with it. Ryoma liked that she treated him this way.

“Yeah. For the time being, anyway,” he replied, accepting the leather armor Sara handed him. He put it on, then climbed onto a horse prepared for him.

Their objective was the Cannat Plains, located half a day’s ride to the northeast of the capital. There, they would regroup with an army led by Helena Steiner under the pretext of a regular exercise.

Unfortunately, Ryoma had no way of knowing what would happen when he got there...