Chapter 76

Chapter 76: Chapter 76

Long ago, there were times when the people had no choice but to unite their strength. Such were the invasions of the Salamans, the orcs, and the Nords.

The tribes, divided into dozens or even hundreds of separate groups, joined forces to fight, endure, and at times accept the invaders in order to overcome those crises.

In the end, they survived and formed the Empire.

Among those numerous tribes, the Nibelung tribe played the central role. The name Nibelinger, borne by the current imperial family, meant "descendants of Nibelung."

The Empire had no official capital. Wherever the Emperor resided simply served as the capital.

The Emperor’s city, Nibelungen, was where the Nibelung clan had once lived and was a place of great historical significance.

However, many cities throughout the Empire were as old as the Emperor’s city, if not older.

Consequently, the Emperor’s city was neither the largest nor the most populous or magnificent city in the Empire. It was merely one of several well-developed cities.

Nevertheless, as the residence of the King of Kings, it functioned to some extent as an administrative center. Its public safety was more stable than that of other cities, and goods were abundant.

One distinctive feature was the absence of defensive walls around the city. It was believed that the surrounding imperial domains and the territories governed by the Emperor’s relatives would serve as its walls.

Nibelungen was notable for its hunting grounds, which were as vast as a respectable small or midsized territory, the Main River winding around the city, its broad farmland, and its orderly buildings.

Like any other city, this imperial city had a pleasure district that became livelier at night than during the day.

Although it was still midday, far too early for the district’s nighttime trade to begin in earnest, a carriage drawn by two horses entered the pleasure quarter.

The carriage traveled along the paved road. After passing several large and lavish buildings, it stopped before a shabby brothel.

When the coachman announced their arrival, the carriage door opened and an old man stepped out.

For an elderly man, his skin was remarkably clear, his posture straight, and his eyes full of vitality. The sword at his waist suited him well.

The old man was none other than Hellauman, Count Palatine of Kelbron and Champion of the Emperor.

He entered a brothel called the Spinster’s Secret with familiar steps. The furniture, curtains, carpets, and other decorations made an obvious attempt to embellish the interior, but they could not conceal how cheap everything was.

Several prostitutes with caked makeup and disheveled hair wandered around inside. Even after seeing Hellauman, far from showing him respect, they scarcely acknowledged him. Their expressions suggested that they had seen him many times before.

Hellauman likewise treated them as though they did not exist. He strode toward the innermost room.

A man wearing a sword stood outside the closed door and glanced impassively at Hellauman. He was another of the Emperor’s Champions and served as the Emperor’s personal bodyguard.

"His Majesty?"

"Inside."

"Has he still not awakened?"

The bodyguard merely shrugged.

Only then did Hellauman release a quiet sigh. Even a Sword Master who had achieved a high level of discipline seemed to find the Emperor difficult to endure.

He opened the door without knocking.

The Emperor lay sprawled naked and facedown upon the bed, sleeping like a corpse.

This was Claudis, the ninth Emperor of the Empire. His nicknames were the Virile Emperor and the Debauched Emperor.

Three women shared the enormous bed with him. All three seemed far too vulgar and unattractive for women embraced by an emperor.

That was because Emperor Claudis was not particular about women. He had once said that he had grown tired of beautiful women with shapely figures.

Among the countless women he had embraced was even Hellauman’s great-great-granddaughter. The Emperor took women regardless of their status, beauty, or age.

Emperor Claudis did not even know that his daughter Martelia existed. Her official recognition as his daughter had merely been the result of an administrative procedure, not a decision he had personally made.

In its own way, that was impressive.

No one knew how many illegitimate children he had. Only God could possibly know.

Hellauman prodded the prostitutes awake with his foot.

A Count Palatine personally waking prostitutes was preposterous enough. More astonishingly, they did not even awaken immediately.

They squirmed and tossed around for a long while before finally dragging themselves upright. Even after seeing Hellauman, they openly displayed annoyed expressions.

The prostitutes roughly gathered their clothing and left the room. One of them even had the audacity to slap the Emperor’s buttocks.

Claudis flinched in surprise while lying facedown and grumbled.

"Hey, you crazy bitch. I haven’t recovered my strength yet."

Hellauman quietly looked down at the Emperor before speaking.

"Your Majesty, it is the Count Palatine of Kelbron."

Claudis remained still for a moment before scowling irritably.

"Ah, damn it... Why must you always barge in and embarrass me?"

"The sun is already high in the sky."

"Then come at night."

"...The Empress Dowager is looking for you."

The Empress Dowager was the Emperor’s mother. Because the Emperor was like this, she was the one governing the Empire.

"Why? Mother will do whatever she wants anyway."

The Emperor covered his lower body with a blanket and leaned against the bed, openly expressing his displeasure. With his hair sticking out in every direction, there was not a trace of imperial dignity about him.

"Receiving envoys while seated upon your throne is also one of Your Majesty’s important duties."

"You mean I should play the puppet?"

"No one would dare treat Your Majesty as a puppet."

"That doesn’t seem true. Is Mother the exception?"

Because you are incompetent and do nothing but cause trouble.

The words rose to Hellauman’s throat, but he barely managed to swallow them.

"An envoy has arrived from the Kingdom of Adelorn. A rebellion demanding royal authority has broken out, and they have requested Your Majesty’s protection in accordance with their sacred vassalage pact and marriage alliance. Even the Empress Dowager cannot handle this matter without Your Majesty’s presence."

"Adelorn? Where was that again?"

Although there were only five kingdoms within the Empire, the Emperor did not even know where the Kingdom of Adelorn was located.

"If one rides diligently toward the southwest and changes horses along the way, it can be reached within three days."

"Then isn’t it quite far away? What does that have to do with us? Why do we have vassals in the first place? Aren’t vassals supposed to govern their own regions properly?"

Hellauman was so dumbfounded that he could think of nothing to say.

"Preserving the Empire’s stable peace is the Emperor’s foremost duty, Your Majesty."

"Ah, yes. That again. Responsibility and duty. I’m sick of hearing about them. You just said that no one regards me as a puppet, but those invisible duties certainly seem to treat me like one. Fine, then. Let us do this instead. Have your illustrious Sword Masters go and wipe out all the rebels. Would that not solve the matter?"

"..."

"I have issued an order as Emperor. Stop bothering me and handle it yourselves."

"...Rebellion spreads like a plague, Your Majesty. No matter how distant it may be, if it is not suppressed early, seditious groups throughout the Empire may rise in support of it. Moreover, the blasphemous cult known as the Order of Judgment has recently been expanding its influence. If this is not properly contained, the vassals may dare to question Your Majesty’s strength. A tower built through years of effort can collapse in an instant. If that day should come, will Your Majesty be able to don armor, endure the wind and rain, and sleep in a military encampment?"

"What do you expect me to do, then? You aren’t making excuses merely because you don’t want to go, are you, Count Palatine?"

"Receive the envoy and announce that you will formally muster the army. At the very least, say that much."

"Fine."

Even a Sword Master over a hundred years old had limits to his patience.

Hellauman no longer wished to continue the conversation.

He had served five emperors before Claudis. One had commanded the princes with powerful charisma and conquered unknown lands. Another had established a stable foundation for governance through his brilliant intellect. A third, though inferior to those two, had at least protected the imperial family well.

The remaining two emperors had also understood the basic responsibilities of their office and had at least made an effort.

Claudis, however, knew how to do nothing.

No, he simply knew nothing.

He had neither ambition nor determination.

"...I shall take my leave."

Hellauman bowed his head and left the vulgar, foul-smelling room.

As the door shut with a click, the Emperor’s bodyguard—the fellow Champion waiting outside—spoke.

"You endure a great deal, sir."

In truth, Hellauman had been practically retired until recently.

The Empress Dowager had summoned him back to the imperial court, but upon returning, he found himself confronted with matters beyond his capabilities.

A Sword Master was neither a politician nor a soldier. He was a strategic and tactical weapon, closer to a diplomatic instrument. Sword Masters were used to threaten, intimidate, appease, or coax vassals.

But no matter how powerful the weapon, it was useless when the person wielding it was such a disgrace.

There was another, even greater reason the Emperor’s Champions could not move freely: they could not trust one another.

If one of them feigned madness and tried to harm the Emperor, who could stop him?

Only another Champion.

Thus, if even one Champion left the city, the balance of power would collapse.

It was a dilemma.

The Champions were both the Emperor’s most powerful weapons and his greatest danger.

The only reason this arrangement had appeared problem-free for so long was that Hellauman had protected the imperial family throughout his long life.

Keeping Sword Masters under control, soothing them, inspiring their loyalty, and employing them appropriately were solely the Emperor’s responsibility.

"Take good care of His Majesty."

Hellauman patted the shoulder of the Champion he trusted most. The man nodded.

Hellauman left the cheap brothel and climbed back into his carriage. When the coachman cracked his whip, the horses began to run.

Inside the slightly rattling carriage, Hellauman became lost in thought.

In truth, he did not possess much loyalty toward the imperial family either.

He outwardly pretended to be loyal, but his relationship with the imperial family was purely one of mutual interest. What mattered most to Hellauman was himself, his family, and his sword.

The Count Palatine was a hereditary title responsible for administering the Emperor’s direct domains. If anything happened to the Emperor personally, Hellauman and his family would also suffer the consequences.

And now, he could hear the imperial family beginning to shake.

With an emperor like Claudis, there was no need to think deeply about the cause.

Nevertheless, Hellauman was not an ambitious man. He had no intention of doing anything to the Emperor or the imperial family.

He merely believed that he should begin determining his future course of action, little by little, in preparation for the worst.

Hellauman’s carriage crossed the drawbridge and entered the Imperial Palace.

He climbed out again and headed toward his office.

A scroll sealed with wax lay upon his desk.

He broke the seal and unrolled it. It had been sent by the Beringen Adventurers’ Guild.

The message stated that Rickart and Ice had slain a high-ranking vampire and completed the special-rank commission.

Remarkable.

Truly remarkable.

His innate combat instincts and courage were extraordinary.

But that was precisely why Hellauman considered it such a pity.

The boy possessed no mana.

He rolled the scroll up again, then selected another document from the scrolls stacked on a bookshelf and unfolded it.

It was a list.

The Sword Masters concealed by the various kingdoms and great nobles, along with the special-rank adventurers belonging to the Empire’s numerous Adventurers’ Guilds, were all recorded upon it.

There were more of them than expected.

It was almost as though they were deliberately avoiding revealing themselves to the world.

What were they waiting for?

Every name on the list represented both a threat to the Emperor and the imperial family and a potential tool.

Handled properly, they would become useful instruments.

Handled poorly, they would become sharp swords that cut the hand attempting to wield them.

In truth, suppressing them all with only four Champions of the Emperor would be impossible.

Yet they could not appoint too many Champions either.

That would be dangerous.

Hellauman’s gaze lingered upon Rickart’s name.

Ever since killing Clan Master Lorenz, Rickart had been building an absurd record as an adventurer. He had distinguished himself in a guild war, and now he had even slain a high-ranking vampire.

Even Hellauman would have found that cunning monstrosity troublesome to face.

Power could not simply be weighed upon a scale. Maintaining an appropriate balance was exceedingly difficult.

Yet among all those names, Hellauman found Rickart particularly appealing.

It was unfortunate, but the boy’s lack of mana imposed a clear limit upon him. At the same time, he lacked neither skill nor courage, which made him seem easy to handle.

Useful enough, yet not a threat.

"It is about time for a change of blood."

Lost deeply in thought, Hellauman murmured to himself.

First, he decided to dispatch two of the Emperor’s Champions to the Kingdom of Adelorn.

If they fought well there, all the better.

If they died, he could simply select new Champions.

They were unlikely to die immediately upon arriving, so while they were deployed far away, he intended to cultivate new talent.

Naturally, Rickart was his first choice.

Thinking of Rickart made Hellauman feel as though he had found a clue to resolving the problem that had been frustrating him.

Once one thread unraveled, another followed, and one thought led to the next.

Eventually, he devised a plan.

He would hold a swordsmanship tournament.

He could use the tournament as a pretext to eliminate those who needed eliminating, nurture those worth nurturing, and observe those who merited attention.

As for the prize awarded to the champion, an engagement to Marie, his great-great-great-granddaughter, ought to be sufficient.

What use was there in having so many illegitimate children?

This was precisely what they were for.

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