Chapter 169

Translator: Willia

The weather had grown noticeably chilly. As dusk began to settle, distinct trails of white smoke curled up from all across Adelun. It was the smoke of meals being prepared.

From a window in the royal castle, Ricardt watched the smoke rising into the air. It looked as though beacons of hope were finally being lit.

He wasn't particularly worried about the winter. They had already secured ample food and firewood, and more importantly, the people here were tougher than one might expect after enduring four or five years of civil war.

But Adeloron's circumstances did not represent the Empire as a whole. Looking back, perhaps they had simply been the ones to take the beating first.

The Empire's civil war had only just begun.

"The man's name is Baldur. The Second Prince entrusted him with military command, and Baldur led the army in his place. He seems to be quite capable."

Standing behind Ricardt, Paolo told him about the recent battle between the Second Prince and the Fifth Prince.

"This Baldur fellow must have had his hands full just recovering from the defeat. If he managed to turn around and beat the Fifth Prince after that, then he must be exceptionally capable."

When Ricardt had once faced Second Prince Rotarius across the river and gone to the bridge to find out what was happening, the first knight who had come forward had indeed been named Baldur.

Ricardt did not know whether this was the same man, but one thing was certain: whoever this commander named Baldur was, he was far better than his lord.

"It does seem the Fifth Prince was a little too hasty in pursuing them. Rather than losing in a proper head-on clash, I'd say he was caught by an unexpected counterattack. So in truth, his losses weren't that severe. The problem is that his vassals have begun to doubt his abilities. It looks like both the Second Prince and the Fifth Prince are in for an unusually harsh winter."

The Second Prince's greater problem wasn't the battle itself. Ricardt had stripped him of nearly all his supplies, so the real question was whether he could even maintain his army through the winter.

As for the Fifth Prince, he had expanded his power by sowing discord among his vassals and playing politics, but now people had begun to question whether he was actually capable of commanding a battle.

Even if he excelled at everything else, being unable to command well in battle made him like a plant without a flower. No matter how sturdy its leaves and stem were, without a blossom, none of it meant anything.

One option would be to follow the Second Prince's example and entrust military command to someone competent. But that was dangerous, because the person given control of the army might develop ambitions of his own.

The Second Prince had apparently managed it somehow because he was desperate, but it was difficult to imagine someone as suspicious as him willingly handing military authority to another person.

"After dragging things out for so long, the actual battle was rather anticlimactic."

The Second Prince and the Fifth Prince had spent four or five years doing little more than glaring at each other while maintaining an uneasy peace. Now that they had finally clashed, an outcome like this could only feel deflating.

When wars dragged on, the people who suffered most in the end were the innocent.

"This war looks like it's going to last. We should keep an eye not only on the princes, but on the other great lords as well."

Paolo said it, though no particular insight was required to reach the same conclusion.

There were dukes and margraves who had sided with either the Second Prince or the Fifth Prince, but there were others who continued to watch and wait.

When Ricardt had once left Adeloron for Nibelungen, he had met a knight named Winterlocken of Cohen, who had been on his way to join his lord, Duke Frederia, after being summoned.

Duke Frederia was one of the most prominent great lords who had chosen to watch the imperial succession war from the sidelines. With things turning out like this, it would hardly be surprising if he thought, ‘What? So the princes aren't anything special after all?’

He had publicly declared that he would support neither side, but there was no telling what people might do.

"We should focus on our own affairs."

Ricardt said it. The whole affair was clumsy beyond belief, pathetic, and tragic, but it wasn't something he could change simply by worrying about it. Keeping Adeloron in order was difficult enough. How was he supposed to concern himself with the Empire's tangled affairs as well?

"But Commander. Just because we don't want to get involved doesn't mean it'll leave us alone."

"What won't?"

"The war. That's how war works, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Grantz. There haven't been any particular signs yet, but if his situation worsens, he may lead his army out of Adeloron and make contact with the two princes. He'll raise his own value between them. Neither the Second Prince nor the Fifth Prince is a fool, but when people get desperate enough, they'll use anyone."

Was that so? Hearing it put that way, it did seem possible. Grantz's specialty was betraying people and running away, so there was little he wouldn't do.

Grantz had no land now, and no money. All he had left was his army and his spite.

There were sometimes armies that wandered the world without a country, and those were the most dangerous kind.

With nothing left to lose, they roamed from place to place, massacring people, taking everything they could, and committing acts too vile to put into words without hesitation.

Grantz was already heading down that path.

He had started all of this despite lacking even the ability to govern a country, and when things failed to go according to his plans, he clung tightly to his army and treated ordinary people brutally in order to increase his own strength.

He knew better than anyone what would happen to him if he lost even his army, and so he obsessed over the army itself above all else.

"Then do you have a good solution?"

Ricardt turned away from the window and looked at Paolo as he asked.

"Military operations are difficult in winter. What if we tried assassination instead?"

"Do we have anyone who could handle it cleanly?"

Ricardt himself was no good for an assassination. His face was far too well known by now.

"You have your friends, don't you? The White Sword and the Black Sword, and the head of the Viola Clan. As I understand it, they're all friends of yours, Commander. A good card you never play is no different from a worthless one."

Ricardt shook his head.

"No."

"It could save a great deal of money and a great many lives."

"This isn't about morality or conscience, Paolo. They aren't assassins to begin with."

Paolo did not press the matter further. He knew how to deal with a ruler and understood that repeatedly trying to persuade someone after his will had been made clear was foolish.

Ricardt turned back toward the window and fell deep into thought. More precisely, he was debating whether to act on something he had already been considering for some time.

Below, in the kingdom's capital, Ricardt could see trails of cooking smoke curling upward.

Whether or not the sight influenced his judgment, the decision Ricardt reached was not one Paolo had expected.

"I'll give them a chance. Give them the food we have left over this winter. Free of charge. In return, tell them that if they haven't surrendered by the time winter ends, I'll kill every last one of them. Not just Grantz. All of them."

Ricardt knew that killing Grantz alone would not neatly solve everything.

The subordinates and soldiers under Grantz had already grown accustomed to plunder. They raped women in occupied territories without a second thought, murdered the elderly and children, dug up graves to steal burial goods, and committed countless other such acts.

Even if Grantz were killed and his army collapsed, where would those bastards go? Obviously, they would scatter in every direction like the spores of poisonous mushrooms and get up to all manner of vile things.

Ricardt intended to give even them one last chance. But it did not come from compassion. If anything, it was cold calculation.

It was the price of a great many lives.

Ricardt did not know whom he had learned it from, but he was trying to build a justification of sorts.

"Understood. I'll see it done."

Paolo understood Ricardt's intentions perfectly well.

And so Grantz really was supplied with food. It wasn't an enormous amount, but for men who had spent all this time being chased by Ricardt and going hungry, it was like rain after a long drought.

Of course, the warning was delivered just as clearly: if they did not surrender, every one of them would die. It was almost like a king granting one final act of mercy.

Then, surprisingly, word came from that craven coward asking to meet Ricardt in person. Grantz added that he would choose the time and place himself.

The proposal reeked of suspicion. Naturally, Paolo objected.

"You mustn't go. For a moment, even I wondered whether something this obvious could really be a trap, but as I see it, Grantz already has a track record. We shouldn't expect good faith from him."

Ricardt merely grinned at that.

"When did I ever give that bastard food because I expected anything from him? If he wants to kick away his last chance, that's his choice. I'm going to confirm it for myself."

No matter how strong Ricardt was, he held a position of importance now, yet he decided to go personally. Roy, who was almost always at his side, went with him, and this time Marie and Bori accompanied him as well.

He did not secretly bring an army along either. Only Raimund and a handful of knights followed to provide support.

Grantz set the date. The location was a ruined village, and the man who had reduced it to ruins was none other than Grantz himself.

The sky was a biting blue, and the grass across the fields had withered yellow. On the appointed day, Ricardt rode his beloved Red Comet toward the meeting place with Marie, Bori, and Roy.

As for armor, he wore only a cuirass underneath, and instead of a tabard, he had thrown on a thick fur coat. The wolf fur around its collar was particularly striking.

Ricardt stopped his horse at the outskirts of the village. He dismounted and handed the reins to Raimund, who seemed somewhat uneasy about the whole situation and kept carefully scanning the horizon and the nearby wooded areas.

Ricardt, Marie, and Bori, on the other hand, showed little sign of tension. If anything, traveling together like this reminded them of the old days and left them feeling slightly excited.

"Don't you trust me? I told you, if you're interested in men, just say so."

"Seems to me you're the one who doesn't trust me, Marie. I told you I'm not."

"Then why is it always this woman isn't good enough, that woman isn't good enough? What's your problem?"

"Maybe I just don't have as much of a sex drive as you do."

"W-what?"

Recently, whenever the subject of marriage came up, Marie and Bori spoke as though they were practically arguing. Whether they failed to understand the situation they were in or simply weren't interested in it in the first place was unclear.

"Keep it down. Don't forget Roy is here."

"You're the one who brought him. If you're going to blame us for that, you're being pretty shameless."

"I won't get in the way."

"Ah, fine. Just be quiet."

Only after Ricardt scowled, spun around, and snapped at them did things finally quiet down a little. Though he could still hear someone grumbling under their breath.

Ricardt started walking. He was heading toward the Temple that was supposedly somewhere to the south. But as he looked at the houses with their collapsed roofs and blackened walls, something came to mind.

"Makes me think of the Nameless One."

Bori's expression immediately darkened.

In any case, when they reached the entrance of the ruined Temple, as expected, they saw the charred bodies of people inside. Many had crumbled into ash, but a few still retained something resembling a human shape.

And there, one man stood with his back to them. He was slight of build, his shoulders drooped, and he held one arm with the opposite hand as though something hurt.

Ricardt, Marie, Bori, and Roy silently watched him. The man had surely sensed their presence, so there was no way he could be unaware of them.

The slight man slowly turned around. His bangs hung fairly long over his forehead, and there was something very strange about his eyes. He seemed frightened, yet at the same time, they appeared filled with resentment.

"......Grantz?"

Ricardt asked. The slight man nodded.

Ricardt was so shocked in an entirely different sense that he could not continue speaking. What was this? This scrawny weakling?

Just as people who had never seen Ricardt misunderstood him based solely on his reputation, Ricardt himself was perfectly capable of doing the same.

Considering the grandiose epithet ‘The Invincible’ and everything Grantz had done, Ricardt had imagined someone large, vicious, and cunning.

But appearances did not matter. At least, not here.

"I'm Ricardt. So, why did you want to see me?"

"You have two choices, Ricardt."

Grantz said it without preamble. His voice sounded hoarse.

"Speak."

"My army has reached Adelun. Depending on your answer, people's lives hang in the balance."

Ricardt could not understand what the man was talking about. He glanced back at his friends once, then looked at Grantz again.

"......And?"

"Didn't you hear me? I hold the lives of those ignorant peasants you're so fond of in my hands. You may be able to kill me. But countless lives will go with me. There will be a massacre. My army may not be good at much else, but that's one thing they're very good at. You could even say they're better at it than your Knight Order."

Once again, Ricardt had no idea what the man was talking about, so he looked back at his friends another time before turning to Grantz again.

"No, what I'm saying is, do you think I came here without knowing that?"

"......What are you talking about?"

"Exactly what I said. I knew they were coming through the gorge."

What was he talking about? This time it was Grantz who could not understand Ricardt, and confusion crossed his face. If Ricardt knew that, shouldn't he have stayed away from this place?

By all common sense, the fact that Ricardt had come here meant he didn't know Grantz's army was approaching Adelun.

But Ricardt had never been particularly bound by common sense when conducting military operations or getting things done. If he had been an ordinary man, he could never have achieved feats that defied common sense in the first place.

That was the blind spot in the cunning Grantz's thinking.

"Sure, sure. Whatever. Anyway, what do you want? Let's hear it."

Ricardt asked.

"......A guarantee of independence for the Moravitz region. Whether you become king of Adeloron or whatever else is none of my concern, so stay out of my affairs as well."

Moravitz referred to the southeastern region of Adeloron.

Ricardt stared silently at him for a moment, then spoke.

"You don't seriously think that just because I'm not there, you can kill the people in the capital, do you?"

"What do you mean?"

"The Knight Order was already a strong army without me."

"......Bluffs won't work here."

"We'll see whether it's a bluff or not. In that case...... let's have Roy take care of it."

"Excuse me?"

"You kill him."

"Me?"

"If you can't even kill the likes of him, don't go around calling yourself my disciple."

With that, Ricardt shoved Roy forward by the back.

Grantz blinked repeatedly. He simply could not understand Ricardt, who had heard everything he said and yet abruptly decided to kill him, nor the random boy who was stepping forward to do it in his place.

They had come to a meeting, yet no one there understood anyone else. Marie and Bori didn't understand each other, Ricardt and Grantz didn't understand each other, and neither did Roy.

Still, it was his master's order, so Roy took the axe from his back into his hands and stepped forward.

At that moment, white snowflakes began to flutter down. Everyone suddenly raised their heads and looked up to see snow drifting gently through the holes in the ruined roof.

It was winter.

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