Chapter 128

Translator: Willia

Ricardt did not take the same path he had come with Roy's family, but instead chose a route where he could ride freely, even if it meant taking a detour, heading toward Nibelungen.

This was because one of the branches of the Order of the Flame Knights was located in Nibelungen.

He followed the path that ran along the hills upstream of the river and encountered a knight riding slowly from the opposite direction.

The man had a shaved beard but a thick mustache and was accompanied by about ten soldiers.

Once they were within a certain distance, the man raised his palm beside his face, and Ricardt did the same. It was a kind of signal indicating that they were not enemies.

After confirming that there was no hostility between them, they slowly approached each other. The man greeted first.

“I am Vinterroken, a manor knight of Cohen. And you are?”

“Ricardt of Stormhertz.”

“Stormhertz? Ah, from the Caldebern Family, I presume?”

Nobles were generally expected to memorize heraldry and noble lineages, so by hearing the name of a region, they could usually deduce the family it belonged to.

Of course, this only applied to those who studied diligently. Many couldn’t even read and had no clue. That was why nobles frequently held banquets to become familiar with one another’s faces.

This man, Vinterroken, judged Ricardt’s noble status based on his tall and handsome appearance, healthy hair, neat attire, and the sword at his waist along with the horse he rode.

Though not always the case, commoners typically had crooked teeth, signs of malnutrition, shabby clothes, and especially couldn’t afford horses, making it easy to discern their status at a glance.

“That is correct.”

“Judging by your appearance, you’re not traveling under summons, are you?”

“I have business in Nibelungen. And you, Sir Cohen?”

“I was summoned. Last autumn, in fact. After finishing the harvest and stockpiling supplies, I’m finally setting out now. But these days, heading to Nibelungen might not be the wisest idea.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Since Prince Bellator declared himself Crown Prince, I’ve heard he’s been purging the nobles. If you go there for no reason, you might get caught up in something.”

Bellator was originally the Fifth Prince, with four older brothers above him.

The eldest had been the Crown Prince but died young, and his young son was made the new Crown Prince. The Second Prince had been sidelined early on and sent far away to become a count. The Fourth Prince was killed by a commoner during the Order of Judgement incident.

In the midst of this, Bellator killed his nephew, the Crown Prince, framed the Third Prince and disposed of him, then took control of Nibelungen and was now in a standoff with the Second Prince over the throne, that was the current state of the Imperial Family.

Ricardt had no way of knowing such secrets. He had fainted from poison during the swordsmanship tournament and had been carried off by Marie.

“Rumor has it that Prince Bellator personally killed the Crown Prince. Then he framed his older brother, the Third Prince. If you stay close to that cunning fox, misfortune will find you.”

People sometimes believed baseless rumors, but occasionally, those rumors turned out to be accurate.

The reason such rumors spread was due to Bellator’s behavior over the past four years. He had shown great skill in purging nobles.

No matter how powerful a king or emperor, nobles couldn’t be executed carelessly. But if enough justification was built and they were arrested by surprise and charged, it wasn’t impossible.

Building that justification was the hard part, but Bellator excelled at it, very cunningly so.

However, Ricardt simply laughed off Vinterroken’s words.

“Ha ha ha, I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“Hmm, perhaps I spoke out of turn. But that is how I truly feel. Still, if you must go, I won’t stop you.”

“In any case, does that mean you support the Second Prince?”

“No. We of Freddern have decided to survive on our own.”

“Ah…”

The term “Freddern” was a remnant of the old tribal days. Like “Adeloron”, “Bering”, “Nibelung”, these were all terms referring to people living in certain regions before the Empire was established.

Though feudal society had erased much of the tribal culture, it remained strong in people’s minds. Even within the same Empire, people often regarded each other as strangers because of this.

The great tribal chieftains of that time were now the dukes, border counts, and kings. Of course, in the case of Adeloron, it had been a kingdom since much earlier.

Anyway, it seemed the Freddern people that is, Duke Frederia and the lords under him, had decided to survive among themselves at the first sign of civil war.

In short, they didn’t care who became Emperor. Anyone who caused them harm would be considered an enemy.

“I wish you good fortune. Ah, I’ve heard that monsters like goblins have been sighted recently. Since you’ve gathered your forces, it might be a good idea to eliminate them early.”

“I’ve seen them too. It is worrisome. I wish you good fortune as well.”

Ricardt and Vinterroken exchanged brief conversation about the state of the world, then said their goodbyes.

Ricardt rode past him and picked up speed again. Even when the wind blew, he didn’t feel much refreshed.

It was because the unease bubbling beneath the ground felt like magma that was beginning to break through the surface.

The journey ahead was long.

Ricardt rode continuously for two days and finally arrived at Nibelungen. The stars glittered in the night sky, matching the image of the large city, which had no gates.

Every city tended to be quiet at night, but Nibelungen now seemed unusually heavy in its silence.

There wasn’t much sound coming from inside taverns or buildings, and it felt like everyone was somehow intimidated.

Considering that a wave of bloodshed followed the Order of Judgement incident and purges continued thereafter, it was understandable.

Naturally, Ricardt also passed through the main street quietly. Only the sound of hoofbeats, clip-clop, clip-clop, echoed down the desolate road.

Eventually, he arrived at the temple building that served as the branch of the Order of the Flame Knights, where a soldier was guarding the front gate. As Ricardt approached, the soldier quietly looked up at him.

“I would like to see the branch leader.”

“...Which branch leader?”

“The Order of the Flame Knights.”

“Well, I think he died during torture.”

The soldier relayed the shocking news in a nonchalant tone. Ricardt, stunned, asked for the details.

“Why was he tortured?”

“He worshipped demons, so of course he had to be tortured.”

“What do you mean? Are you saying the Order of the Flame Knights are demon worshippers?”

“That’s what they say. If they weren’t, wouldn’t they have insisted on their innocence even under harsh torture? But several of them have already confessed. That they followed demons.”

Torturing someone into a confession and then using that confession as evidence to convict them? Ricardt couldn’t understand this nonsense, but in truth, this was the standard method of inquisitorial trials.

He had many doubts, but there was no point arguing with the soldier in front of him.

“So, are they all dead now?”

“No, one person remains. Edmund. He hasn’t confessed, no matter what. He’s no ordinary tough guy. It must be the power of demons that keeps him going.”

If it was Edmund, he was the one who had come to pick up Ricardt’s brother Vilter when he joined the Order.

It was possible it was a different person with the same name, since noble names were often repeated, but now was not the time to worry about that.

Ricardt had come to see if he could possibly receive help from the Order of the Flame Knights, but for now, he decided to set that aside.

“Is he here? Could I see him briefly? We were acquainted.”

“Eh? That’s not allowed. If you get involved, you could be in danger too, sir.”

“I’m asking you, as a favor.”

Ricardt dismounted and pulled out a gold coin, holding it out.

The soldier’s eyes widened, and he looked ready to reject him immediately, but the coin was too valuable.

As the gold coin shimmered under the nearby torchlight, the soldier quietly took it and slipped it into his pocket.

“Tie your horse far away.”

Ricardt went far off, turned the corner, tied up his horse, and returned to the temple. The soldier quietly opened the door for him. Then, he escorted Ricardt down into the underground prison.

He whispered something to the jailer, but since the place echoed, everything was clearly heard.

“It’s a gold coin, you fuck.”

“...You should’ve said so earlier.”

“I did say it, you moron.”

The soldier and the jailer exchanged a brief spat, but it seemed to be resolving smoothly. The jailer, overly deferential now, led Ricardt down the corridor. To them, money was everything.

“Right this way, my lord.”

Ricardt followed him and walked for a short while. The damp underground prison was filled with the stench of blood and filth. In the corners, rats squeaked as they freely scurried about.

The jailer stopped in front of an iron-barred cell. It was too dark inside to see clearly. Ricardt took a torch hanging nearby and held it up to check. A wretched figure emerged faintly in the dim light.

“Open the door.”

The jailer hesitated briefly, then simply opened it. After all, there was no way the prisoner could escape.

With a creak, the iron door opened, and Ricardt stepped inside. The prisoner sat slumped miserably, his wet hair hanging down, his head deeply bowed.

Traces of methodical torture were evident. First, the fingernails had been pulled out, then the finger joints cut one by one. The tendons behind his heels, knees, and elbows had been scorched with hot irons and ruined.

Even so, a faint breath could be sensed. It was astonishing that he was still alive in such a state. Perhaps it was the power of demons, or of the gods.

“I am Ricardt of Stormhertz. Eight years ago, my brother Vilter joined the Order of the Flame Knights. The knight who came for him then was Edmund. I remember thinking he was rude to my father and talking back a bit. I didn’t like him, but I could tell he was a proper knight. Are you that Edmund?”

A silence passed. Could he not hear? Or could he hear but was no longer in his right mind?

Then, at some point, Edmund began mumbling. Ricardt leaned in to hear. In a voice so faint it was barely audible, he spoke desperately.

“...I am innocent...”

Ricardt slowly pulled away from him again.

“I’m not a jailer, nor a torturer. I am Ricardt, son of Abelich, younger brother of Vilter. I will remember your words. Do you have anything to say, to someone, or as a last message?”

At that, he exhaled a few faint breaths, then slowly lifted his head. Where his eyes should have been were only black holes. The blood that had poured from them had long since dried and hardened.

Ricardt did not flinch, nor avert his gaze. He looked calmly at the man’s horrific appearance.

“The reliquary... to the main order...”

Leaving behind those words, he lowered his head again. It seemed he had died, but stubbornly, cruelly, he still lived.

Ricardt wanted to end his pain, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He didn’t know what he should do.

He stood up, left the cell, and asked the jailer,

“Where is the knights’ reliquary?”

“The reliquary? Well, I think all confiscated property’s been taken. Ah, but if you’re interested, would you like to take a look?”

The jailer grinned, revealing dirty teeth. Ricardt didn’t want to exchange words, so he just nodded.

The place the jailer led him to was where the knights’ belongings had been skimmed off and stashed. It wasn’t just a few items, there was quite a lot.

Conspicuous items like silver candlesticks or goblets hadn’t been taken, but most of it seemed to be things pried off from some decorations.

Of course, these couldn’t be kept by one person. The soldiers and their acquaintances sold the stolen goods and shared the proceeds among themselves.

Whether it was fortunate or unfortunate, a small box decorated roughly with gems, commonly called the Seven Treasures, caught Ricardt’s eye.

It was made of wood, gilded and adorned with gold, silver, glass, crystal, pearls, agate, and coral. There was a keyhole, so it couldn't be opened without a key or by breaking it.

It seemed the jailer and his associates were planning to sell it whole. Ricardt grabbed the reliquary without hesitation and simply walked off with it.

“Hey, hey! You there!”

The jailer quickly tried to stop Ricardt, but when Ricardt turned around, the tip of a dagger was already pressed under the jailer’s chin. His cold gaze was sharper than the blade itself.

“Since it’s stolen property anyway, I’ll steal it too. Do you have a problem with that?”

“...Though I may be a lowly man, I do have a bit of wisdom, you know? What treasure in the world is more precious than life? Take it with you, sir.”

Surprisingly, the jailer didn’t tremble and spoke fluently. It seemed he’d been robbed more than once before.

Ricardt withdrew the dagger and left without looking back.

After leaving the temple, Ricardt untied the reins and headed toward the palace. He booked a room at an inn nearby.

But there was no way he could sleep. So he lit a candle and spent the night watching the reliquary, its surface dulled by wear and dimly glowing.

At daybreak, he headed straight for the palace. He intended to ask Bellator directly what had happened.

Naturally, as someone approached with a sword at his waist, the palace guards stopped him. Ricardt spoke calmly.

“I am Ricardt, champion of the Imperial Swordsmanship Tournament. I have come to see Prince Bellator.”

“He is not a prince but His Highness the Crown Prince. Watch your words. You could be punished,” one of the guards warned, glaring coldly.

Ricardt met the gaze with an equally cold look. A slight tension lingered in the air.

However, the guard silently sent someone to report Ricardt’s arrival.

Shortly after, someone came out from within.

“Lord Ricardt, come in.”

Ricardt followed him. He was already familiar with the palace, having visited before. It was a place where the natural forest had been preserved as much as possible, simply refined and tidied up.

But the guide was not leading him to the palace. Instead, they kept walking deeper into the forest. As expected, it was the same watchtower where Marie had once been imprisoned.

Bellator was sitting on a rock nearby, eating food freshly brought by a cook.

Everything had been sourced from the forest, wild berries, truffles, hunted venison, freshwater crayfish, and the like.

Four years had passed, and Bellator, now fifteen, was a grown adult. As a young man, he had matured into a proper figure. Perhaps because he and Marie were half-siblings, he had snow-white skin, bright blond hair, and above all, jewel-like blue eyes that gleamed vividly.

When he saw Ricardt, he smiled slightly, washed the seasoning off his hands with water, and wiped them with a handkerchief.

Ricardt greeted him first.

“It has been a while, Your Highness.”

“It’s been some time, Master.”

Ricardt had briefly instructed the Crown Prince before, and during that time had also taught Bellator. It wasn't anything significant enough to warrant calling each other master and student, but Bellator seemed to think of Ricardt as a mentor.

“This place is full of memories, isn’t it?”

Bellator said as he glanced around the watchtower.

Ricardt recalled the time when Marie had been locked up here, and how the former Crown Prince and the Third Prince had tormented her. Ricardt had stepped forward and stopped them, and Bellator had silently watched from a distance.

“Yes, it is.”

“When people share memories, they tend to feel a sense of connection. Do you feel that way too, Master?”

“A little, yes.”

“I see… That’s a relief. I had to meet some other important people, but I postponed all that to see you. Because you’re one of the few people I like.”

“Thank you, Your Highness. But I’ve come to ask you something about the Order of the Flame Knights. Who accused them? Are you certain they committed a crime?”

Bellator, still smiling, looked at Ricardt calmly and said,

“No. They committed no crime. There was no accuser either.”

Ricardt was speechless, unable to comprehend what he had just heard.

“They needed to die. And I needed to stain them with disgrace, so I did. That’s all. Does that answer your question?”

“Why… would you do that?”

“A creditor who’s too easy to handle doesn’t live long. You need a lot of money to wage war. It’s better to get rid of the debt in advance.”

The more Ricardt listened, the harder it became to understand.

“The Order of the Flame Knights funds their operations through finance. That’s a right granted to them by Bellator I, when he tasked them with guarding the borders. Now I’m going to take that right for myself. And while I’m at it, I’ll erase the debt the Imperial Family owes them.”

Ricardt had no idea what to say as Bellator uttered these words so casually, so indifferently, and so openly.

To fabricate crimes, subject them to horrific torture, rob them of their honor, and kill them, simply because it was necessary?

“There will be backlash. The Order of the Flame Knights is the strongest assault force in the Empire.”

“So what? No matter how skilled a servant is, a servant is still a servant. They have no capacity to carry out an operation all the way here. And besides, they refused my summons. In times like these, there’s no middle ground. If you’re not with me, you’re the enemy.”

It seemed Bellator had requested the Order of the Flame Knights to join the war, and they had refused.

However, it wasn’t simply out of personal resentment that he decided to eliminate them; it seemed he had made the decision for a number of reasons. The financial issue was the biggest one.

In fact, from a political standpoint, it was a brilliant tactic. But Ricardt was not a politician, and it made him feel sick inside.

“Do you also think I’m a sly and devious fox, Master?”

Bellator still spoke with a smile. He clearly knew how the world referred to him.

“One of them is still alive. A knight named Edmund, what will happen to him?”

“If he had confessed earlier, I would’ve given him a clean beheading. But since he kept denying it to the end, he’ll be burned at the stake. I’ve received reports that he’s near death already, so it’ll be done today. But I’m not planning to go and watch.”

“Let me ask you just one thing. Do you feel nothing at all? No regret, no guilt?”

“When the moment of life and death comes, a version of myself I don’t even know appears. What matters then is not to hesitate. That’s what you told me, Master. Regret is something common men feel. It’s not something for those who must make decisions and give orders. It’s nothing but a hindrance.”

“...Do you want to become Emperor so badly that you would go this far?”

“No. I see beyond being Emperor. Human history is the process of projecting a monarch’s dominion far and deep. I don’t know if you’ll understand. The imperial authority reached its peak during Martellus II. It’s been in decline ever since. My foolish father nearly brought it to ruin. My duty is to restore and strengthen it. Only then will the world have order and peace, don’t you think? You may not be highly educated, but you’re intelligent. I believe you understand what I’m saying.”

“...”

Though Bellator was legally an adult, he was still young, but he had a thoroughly developed philosophy. And that firm ideology left no room for interference.

So what was the point of saying anything?

“I will take my leave.”

“Before that, when you’ve settled Adeloron, come swear loyalty to me, Red Prince. Promise me here and now.”

Ricardt lowered his head and stood in silence for a moment, then looked up and replied.

“No. I can’t promise that.”

Ricardt refused firmly. But unexpectedly, Bellator’s smile only deepened.

“Do you know why I like you, Master?”

“I don’t.”

“Because you speak plainly. So honestly it’s almost unsettling. I think we’re really different from each other, don’t you?”

“Well, Your Highness, your eyes are still the same.”

“Mine? How so?”

“Arrogance. The arrogance of believing you're above all others. You had it even before, the former Crown Prince was alive, the Emperor was alive, yet you saw no one as your equal.”

“Is that so? Haha...”

When seen up close, Bellator simply seemed calm and easygoing. Almost like Ricardt had been in his youth.

But their roots were completely opposite. Bellator treated everyone the same only because he looked down on all humans except himself.

At Ricardt’s words, which pierced straight to the core, Bellator gave a satisfied laugh, not the mask-like smile from before.

And after savoring his former teacher’s words for a moment, he spoke again.

“If you wish to become a king, remember this, being a ruler is a lonely position. Even the closest friend in the world, your beloved wife, or your own child, can become an enemy.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever become king. But if I must, I’ll take off the crown without hesitation.”

“Well, if it’s you, Master, I suppose that might be possible. Go. It was a pleasant conversation for the first time in a while.”

Bellator spoke, turning his head. The smile had already vanished from his lips.

Ricardt left the Imperial Palace, returned to the inn, gathered his belongings, and set off on horseback once more. As he departed, he saw Edmund’s execution being carried out in the plaza.

People had gathered like clouds. Firewood was stacked, and Edmund was bound to a stake.

A priest asked him one last question.

“Do you confess your sins?”

Then Edmund, who had been hanging limp like a corpse, slowly lifted his head.

The tongue they had spared just to force a confession, and his lungs, now flaring with their final spark, moved with strength.

“I am! Innocent! I! Have committed no crime!”

“Carry out the sentence.”

The flustered priest hastily gave the order. But the last testimony of a man who was no true criminal had not yet ended.

“I am! Innocent! I! Have committed no crime!”

Even the spectators who had merely come to witness a gruesome execution began murmuring at his firm cries. But soon the wood was lit, and the flames surged up in an instant. His flesh sizzled as it cooked.

Edmund trembled violently and shouted to the end.

“I am a Flame Knight! Let the flames rise! Burn high! Carry my wrath to God! O Lord! Sing of wrath! Bring down your judgment…!”

Ricardt bowed his head. His cries pounded against Ricardt’s heart. To the very end, he had declared his innocence and prayed to God for vengeance.

Since the birth of the universe, an eternity had passed, and an eternity would continue to pass, but Edmund’s final cry branded this moment forever. That he was innocent.

So no matter what sentence was passed on him, no matter what disgrace was thrown upon him, it would be crushed and erased by that searing brand.

Even if he could no longer receive the help of the Order of the Flame Knights, Ricardt vowed to deliver the reliquary to their main order.

And with it, both his fire-like fury, and the branded cry of innocence.

Chapter 26 - The Duty of a Monarch. The End.

****

For more chapters, you can check out my Patreon here –> https://patreon.com/warriorsballad