Chapter 170

Translator: Willia

Snow seemed to carry so many meanings. Emptiness, sorrow, and death. Snow fell from the gray sky.

If a day ever came when one could look at falling snow and find it beautiful, perhaps that would be when heaven had descended upon the earth. Snow that clung to life itself could never be beautiful.

Snow fell even upon the lonely ruins where atrocities had been committed. On the roofless buildings, and on the temple as well.

Snowy days tended to make people feel somber, but the atmosphere inside the temple was a little different.

To anyone who did not know what was happening, it would undoubtedly have looked like a group of bad people bullying someone weaker.

“Don't focus only on swinging. I told you to control the space first.”

“You're slow because you wait for your opponent to move and only then react.”

While someone was fighting with his life on the line, there were people calmly watching from the sidelines and offering advice. They were Bori and Marie.

The ones engaged in this life-and-death duel were Roy and Grantz, but looking at what was actually happening, it did not seem much like a duel at all. That was because Grantz did nothing but run away.

Roy was quite skilled with an axe, but catching someone who did nothing but flee in a single blow was no easy task.

Whenever Roy gradually drove him into a corner and chose his moment to swing, Grantz threw away every shred of noble pride he possessed, nearly throwing himself flat or scrambling away on all fours to escape however he could.

Yet he could not flee altogether, because Ricardt, Bori, and Marie were blocking the entrance to the temple.

The sword he had been carrying had long since been left lying on the floor because it only got in the way of running. In other words, he had neither the nerve nor the will to stake his life in a fight against someone.

Grantz kept whipping his head around, looking back and forth between Roy and Ricardt, then desperately shouted at Ricardt.

“Treasure! I'll tell you where the treasure is! I gathered all the kingdom's treasure! W-wait! I'm talking to you! You don't care if people die!? How can you guarantee victory!? Even now, right this instant! Wait!”

He tried to win Ricardt over with treasure and tried to threaten him with people's lives. In his desperation, he threw out anything that came to mind, but Ricardt paid none of it any mind.

He was merely irritated that this duel-that-wasn't-a-duel was taking so long.

Whoosh!

“Eek!”

“Ah, that was close.”

When the blade of Roy's axe narrowly missed Grantz, Bori gave a brief sigh of disappointment.

The fight followed the same pattern. Roy cut off Grantz's escape routes as much as possible, drove him toward a corner, then swung his axe whenever he found an opening.

The same situation kept repeating itself, and at this rate Roy might tire out first. So while keeping his attention fixed on his opponent, Roy tried a different tactic.

He drove Grantz toward the entrance.

That way, Grantz would have no choice but to pay attention to what was behind him, and Roy figured his reactions would be slower than when he had a wall at his back.

It was a fairly good idea. Perhaps Ricardt had gotten fed up watching, because he abruptly lashed out and kicked Grantz in the leg.

Thud!

“Aagh!”

Grantz felt as though he had been struck with an iron club. His knee buckled, and he collapsed heavily onto the floor. The pitch-black ash carpeting the ground puffed up around him.

Roy moved in to kill him at once, but Grantz squeezed his eyes shut, thrust one hand forward, and shouted at the top of his lungs.

“You coward! You interfered in the duel! The duel is void! Void!”

Roy had already raised his axe over his head, but he hesitated. Now that he heard it, Grantz did have a point.

Roy looked toward Ricardt, and Ricardt spoke.

“Do not misunderstand. This is not a duel. It is an execution. The thought of how many people have suffered because of the likes of you is enough to make me sick.”

“Why should I care about commoners!? That's right! Come to think of it, that brat's a commoner too! The duel is void!”

Normally, a duel was only valid between people of equal standing. Duels between nobles in particular were governed by strict forms and procedures. They were not something conducted in such a slapdash manner.

But as Ricardt had said, this was not a duel. Grantz was merely trying to exploit Ricardt's honor in order to stay alive.

Ricardt had no obligation to explain that to Grantz. Nor did he have any reason to convince him. So, as coldly as the snow settling upon his cheek, he said,

“The only thing void here is your life. What point is there in keeping you alive? You would surely do nothing but harm the world with your underhanded schemes and betrayals. Roy, bury the axe in his chest first. Then pin him down with your foot and strike at the base of his head. You should be able to decapitate him cleanly.”

“Yes.”

“W-what? W-wai......!”

Whoosh! Thunk!

“Ghk!”

The moment Ricardt gave the order, Roy buried his axe in Grantz's chest without the slightest hesitation. Grantz's body went rigid at once.

Roy's axe work was extremely precise, so once Grantz's body had locked up, pinning him beneath his foot and cutting off his head was not especially difficult.

In the end, the man who had brought war to Adeloron was beheaded by a young boy.

Whooosh! Thunk!

Grantz's severed head rolled across the ash-covered floor. Instead of pure white snow, pitch-black ash covered his head.

“How did a bastard like this manage to make such a mess of everything?”

“Wasn't he originally the strategist for the second son's mercenary company? I heard he killed the mercenary captain from behind and seized control of the company.”

“Before that, I heard the mercenary captain killed the prince, and the prince killed his own father, the king. In the end, Adeloron brought this war upon itself.”

Ricardt, Marie, and Bori spoke in turn. As with every tragedy, if one traced the causes far enough, there was incompetence and greed.

Dig deeper still, and there was a struggle for survival and a demand for change. After all, it had begun with a peasant revolt.

So there was no point in blaming anyone now. If there was any meaning left to draw from it, it was as a cautionary lesson.

Ricardt put Grantz's head in a sack and returned to Adelun. It was roughly half a day's journey away, so the round trip took a full day.

When he returned to Adelun on a snowy night, the city was pitch-dark except for one patch of firelight where a bonfire burned. The guards had gathered around it to warm themselves.

Ricardt headed for the royal castle with the others. After climbing the hill and passing through the castle gate, he found Markwin waiting for him.

Markwin was the mayor of Adelivari and oversaw all of Ricardt's administrative affairs, making him effectively the Chancellor, if one had to put a title to it. Paolo was more capable, but precisely because he was too capable, Ricardt could not entrust him with the Chancellor's seat.

Markwin was just right. He was from Adeloron, reasonably capable, and from his usual conduct, it was clear that he genuinely had Adeloron's best interests at heart.

“You have returned, Commander.”

“Why are you waiting out here in the cold?”

Ricardt dismounted and handed the reins to a stable hand as he spoke. The others dismounted as well.

“Matters are urgent. You were away, Commander, and the enemy is approaching. The Financial Comptroller told me not to worry and went to bed ages ago.”

The Financial Comptroller was none other than Paolo. Since Ricardt was not a king, the people who effectively served as his royal advisory council did not use formal titles such as Treasurer. For now, Ricardt was, after all, only a Knight Commander.

“Paolo's judgment is sound, though I find him a little irritating for it. Let us go inside at once.”

Ricardt entered the royal castle with those who had accompanied him and with Markwin.

Once inside, the air was hardly warm, but it was certainly warmer than outside, and seemed to thaw the frozen muscles of his face. It was not yet midwinter, but riding a horse at speed quickly left one's face numb with cold.

“The Order waited for the enemy to emerge from the gorge, then ambushed them the moment they came out and drove them back inside. They split their forces and sent a detachment on a wide detour to block the enemy's retreat. At present, they are awaiting your orders, Commander.”

“What orders?”

“Whether we should kill them all.”

“......How many enemies are there?”

“We only broke the enemy's vanguard, so we do not know the exact number, but they said there are roughly ten thousand.”

Ten thousand was a considerable number. Of course, they were troops scraped together from wherever they could be found, so their quality as soldiers was poor.

But poor military quality did not make the weight of their lives any lighter. Defeating them in battle and deciding whether to kill them all were two different matters.

It was not that Ricardt had failed to foresee this situation. He had even made his decision in advance, yet now that the moment had come, the words would not easily leave his mouth.

“If the food you sent ended up in those bastards' bellies, Ricky, then I suppose it's only right to take it back out.”

Bori spoke as he pulled off his gloves.

Being pure-hearted, knowing the names of many flowers, and liking peace and quiet did not mean someone was kind. Bori's words sounded extremely cold, but the truth was that he simply had little interest in the matter to begin with. Whether ten thousand people died or one.

Ricardt took off his gloves as well and, for no particular reason, ruffled Roy's hair. After giving his cold cheeks a few squeezes, he said,

“At the very least, I ought to go there and give the order myself. It does not seem like the sort of order I should give from afar.”

“Understood. But could I speak with you alone for a moment?”

“With whom?”

“With me.”

“Very well. Wait a little.”

Ricardt said that to Markwin, who had followed him as far as the bedroom. With Roy's help, he removed his gear, then bathed with Marie in the warm water the servants had prepared.

Fresh from the bath, he returned to the bedroom and immediately felt weariness settling over him, but he quickly dressed again and stepped outside.

Two knights were guarding the bedroom, and farther down the dark corridor, Markwin stood waiting with a lantern in hand. He looked as though he were standing on the boundary between life and death.

Ricardt was exhausted after spending the entire day on horseback, but Markwin must have been tired as well after waiting all day. Ricardt wondered what could possibly be important enough for the man to request a private audience.

“This is a private audience. I shall go alone.”

Ricardt said this to the knights. Then, without even buckling on his sword, he walked toward Markwin.

“Please follow me.”

Markwin did not explain what he wanted. He simply turned and led the way. They descended the stairs to the first floor, passed through the servants' quarters, and moved toward a secluded corner of the royal castle.

When they reached a defensive tower connected to the castle, there was a staircase leading underground. Markwin descended it.

Ricardt followed Markwin down the narrow spiral staircase. The steady tap, tap of their footsteps echoed around them.

The stairs led to an underground burial chamber. It resembled the catacombs Ricardt had seen in Harlen before, with the walls covered entirely in skulls. Beyond them lay the royal tomb.

Stone sarcophagi belonging to generations of kings and queens lined the chamber, but every one of them had either been opened or smashed. They were traces of Grantz's looting.

Perhaps because it was a tomb, there seemed to be an eerie quality mixed into the cold air. Even someone as strong as Ricardt might have felt a little afraid, yet he showed no sign of it whatsoever.

“What could be so important that we must hide ourselves away like this?”

“We are almost there.”

Markwin approached one of the sarcophagi with the lantern in hand. Then he bent a torch bracket mounted on the wall to one side, and the wall shifted aside with a grinding rumble, revealing a secret chamber.

Kings' tombs had been frequent targets for grave robbers since ancient times, so hidden chambers like this were common. Ricardt did wonder how Markwin knew about this particular one.

<Dragonslayer Ilya. I shall not die. Cast my heart into the storm, offer my liver to the heavens, and burn what remains of my flesh. Yet whenever God calls me, I shall rise again.>

Markwin hung the lantern on the wall and looked down at the sarcophagus as he spoke.

“Adeloron was originally a colony of the ancient empire. After long years of suffering under the tyranny of the imperial governor, the hero Ilya arose, led the people, and drove the empire out. Every king of Adeloron is descended from Ilya.”

To be honest, Ricardt did not put much faith in things like this. How could anyone be certain that the person buried here was truly Ilya? But neither did he dismiss it outright as a lie. He simply did not know. That was all.

“Do you not think the path he walked, and his fate, resemble yours, Commander?”

“Coincidence, most likely.”

“Perhaps. But one thing is certain. Adeloron, which everyone thought was doomed, has risen again.”

Grantz was dead, and his army stood on the verge of annihilation. There were other warlords, but by this point, the civil war was as good as over. All Ricardt had to do was reach out, and Adeloron would rise again.

It had taken less than a year. That was how much time had passed since Ricardt came to Adeloron. He had reached Adelivari around spring, traveled the world during the summer, returned with the Order of the Steel Knights, and finally defeated Grantz.

When one thought about it, bringing the Order of the Steel Knights here had been far harder than settling things with Grantz.

Markwin took something from inside his clothes. It was a crude-looking iron crown. There was no delicate craftsmanship to admire in it, only a certain intangible sense of power.

“Do you know why Grantz was so obsessed with Adelivari? Because of this. The Adeloron Iron Crown, worn by generations of kings. They say Ilya forged it with his own hands, placed it upon his head, pointed at the imperial governor, and said, ‘From this day forth, I am king, and you are the invader’.”

Markwin handed the Iron Crown to Ricardt. Ricardt simply accepted it without saying anything in particular.

Then, without warning, Markwin drew a dagger from his sleeve. He pointed it at his own throat and spoke in a trembling voice.

“I am Markwin. Markwin von Adeloron. The last direct member of the royal family. Ricardt, I cede the throne to you. In death, I shall confess my sins before my ancestors. I shall bear all the guilt, so you must go forward.”

Then he plunged the dagger deep into his own throat.

“Ghk! Khh! Grrrgh. Grrgh......”

Markwin shuddered, staggered, then collapsed heavily across Ilya's sarcophagus. His blood spilled over it as he breathed his last.

A deep, deep silence settled over the chamber. Truly, not a sound could be heard.

In the tomb of kings ravaged by enemy hands, Ricardt stood holding the Iron Crown as he looked down at the dead Markwin. It was a remarkably secret and unceremonious abdication.

He could have gone on living with his identity hidden......

Whether he was paying his respects or thinking of something else, Ricardt stood there for a long while with his head bowed.

Chapter 35 – The Death of a Coward. End.

****

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