Chapter: 212
According to the standards of Krasilov, the sweltering heat typical of summer, or the lush forests reminiscent of a vibrant spring day, one might find humans regaining their wildness while sprinting through it.
Surrounded by an abundance of green, verdant, and deep colors, as they get lost in the thrill of running—
Bang—!!
“Ah, damn!!”
Every time Isabel tried to master the skills of a wild stallion while dozing off, the sound of gunfire echoed like a whip. She reflexively ducked her head, startled.
With a *pop*, the cheerful noise of splinters flew from a tree nearby. Without knowing what they were shooting at, Ivan responded with return fire almost simultaneously after the gunshot.
When asked how to handle this situation, he would say,
“If you assess the hit area based on the direction of the gunfire, you can read the trajectory, and by comparing the size of the sound to the caliber of the bullet, you can determine the distance. If you detect the echo of the gunfire, you can pinpoint the location.”
When pressed for ‘so what does that mean,’ he would silence himself with phrases like,
“Repeat, master, train.”
Ivan nodded, thinking it was a truly satisfactory training, but Isabel and Ecdysis, listening in, could only clutch their chests in frustration.
Several hours had already passed. Not in their wildest dreams did they anticipate they would be dashing through the forest on foot, pursued by assailants who were shooting at them from a distance, so conserving stamina was utterly meaningless.
Finally, when they exited the forest—
Hoooorrr…
They all collapsed, completely exhausted. Even superhumans have limits to their mana and stamina.
With bleary eyes, Isabel peered ahead at the distant prairie where cavalry and a group of people could be seen.
*We survived—.*
It must be the rescue team. It has to be.
Just as Isabel fervently hoped, a group of roughly six cavalrymen came trotting leisurely towards them.
And Ivan stepped a couple of paces forward. He threw Ecdysis to the ground, let the Saint down, and went barehanded.
“We need to run for another full day from here to Ebron. Can we do that again like today?”
“Just kill me already…”
“Then we’ll need to get some horses.”
As Ivan nodded, he looked toward the approaching cavalry.
*
Count Escarlon anxiously chewed on his lips atop the castle wall. It had already far surpassed the expected time for the soldiers to return, and not a single messenger had come back.
“Is it not already evening!!”
“Your Royal Highness, please do not worry too much. I hear it’s a mercenary group formed with about six knights.”
“And that’s what’s making it strange! They couldn’t have overlooked anything, right? Damn it, this was exactly why I didn’t want to do this!”
When he received the order to assassinate the Saint, he had seriously considered whether the king had lost his mind. It was far too big of a matter to undertake based on the words of a lunatic.
Even more suspiciously, the king’s secret order came down in a very ambiguous tone: Do not let the Saint leave the forest. Depending on the interpretation, it might mean to detain her for a while.
But knowing that a council was to be held, it was not a simple detainment. It meant to make the very fact that the Saint was there “nonexistent.” In other words, it was a command to silently behead her.
He couldn’t say no. He was not simply a border noble. Norvik Fortress wasn’t just an ordinary countryside territory; it was a military stronghold. He was a military commander, not just a territorial noble. His family was being held captive in the capital…
Whether the operation succeeded or failed, if the assassination of the Saint came to light afterward, his neck would be on the block. If the operation failed, he would bear the disgrace alone and lose his head. If he disobeyed the orders, he would be accused of treason, and his family would lose their heads. Being called a count was just a fancy title; it was more like being a houndsman.
When Count Escarlon was nervously tapping on the castle wall, a lone infantryman appeared galloping on the horizon. From the northern border.
“Just one? Infantry? What on earth…?”
“Is that not a messenger?”
“If it is a messenger… Did they miss them?!”
“If they had completely failed, they would have retreated. It’s fortunate, Your Royal Highness. Allow me to go down and ascertain the situation.”
“No, let’s go together. What can we do here?”
Forgetting his decorum, the Count immediately headed for the castle gates. Soon, the drawbridge lowered, and a weary soldier came panting through the gates. He collapsed to one knee, gasping for breath.
“What’s happened? What is going on!”
*Hah— Hah… Your Royal Highness…*
“Someone give this man water! Speak! Quickly!”
*Failure…. Hah… We have failed….*
“What? Where are the others? Are they in pursuit? Did you organize a pursuit team? Where are Otis and Montero? Why did you come back alone?!”
The soldier, with a terrified expression, looked up at the Count and let his head droop after taking a deep breath.
They’re all dead….
All six knights were dead, and the infantrymen had fled in fear.
The scattered infantry were nothing more than stragglers now. If even half of them manage to return to a stronghold, it would be considered a miracle.
Thus, the fact that somebody rushed back to report right after the battle ended was enough to cast no doubt on the Count’s command ability.
Before the soldier could finish, the Count leaned against the wall and collapsed.
*
Since there were six horses, the Saint still had to ride behind Ivan. Moreover, riding on a military steed was much less comfortable than riding on Ivan’s back, causing the Saint to fidget with her numb legs.
“Brother, don’t you blame me?”
“Blame you?”
“Coming to seek out a completely unrelated fight in a totally different country. Isn’t that enough of a blame?”
“Is it unrelated?”
“…What?”
Holding the reins and staring straight ahead, Ivan continued.
“Whether it’s unrelated or not, if we’re going by that logic, the question’s long overdue.”
Only then did the Saint realize that the man before her was an outsider. Maximilian and Ivan. If you really thought about it, they were both people who had nothing to do with this world.
While there may be shared civilization ties within this continent, they were beings whose very concepts originated from entirely different worlds.
At the Saint’s silence, Ivan shook his head briefly.
“Don’t overthink it. Patricia. Just concentrate on what you need to do.”
“Yes, I should do that. But….”
The Saint clenched her small fist and lowered her head. Why do these outsiders make us feel so ashamed?
Even though there’s no reason to risk their lives or fight for this world, with no connections or roots in this foreign land, they continue to engage in fierce battles nonetheless.
*Lord, have mercy.*
The Saint offered a small prayer. That these outsiders may receive the proper rewards.
*
An irrelevant battle. Ivan clicked his tongue at the Saint’s shortsighted analysis of the situation.
If the Papal Enclave officially excommunicates the Saint, how would that affect Krasilov, who was protecting her? Obviously, they would be lumped together as participants in heresy.
If the Saint’s charges led to her losing her sacred power, then Krasilov, which had evidently allowed the Saint to commit such acts, would be utterly devastated.
What if the Saint doesn’t actively respond or fails to arrive at the council safely, resulting in an excommunication judgment?
‘Tylesse and Drovian would have no choice but to sever ties with Krasilov.’
If the entire civilized world turns hostile, that’s what it implies. Similarly within Krasilov as well. Various government officials and domestic nobility would also become adversaries of the royal court.
This is an issue that cannot be handled even with the domestic intel network of the Counterintelligence Command. Essentially, civilized nations had a single state religion, which wasn’t that different from Earth’s medieval Europe.
Back in those days, what was the Pope doing leading the Crusader Knights to make the Emperor kneel? The important thing isn’t authority or national power.
In other words, this situation is rather…
‘We must manipulate the Saint safely to the council and prevent an excommunication from being ruled against her at the very least, for Krasilov to be secure.’
This doesn’t mean he recklessly followed behind the Saint’s lead, traipsing around foreign borders and slaughtering foreign knights.
Rather, even if the Saint herself gives up her own defense or admits her guilt, it’s his duty to sustain her with healing potions or whatnot.
‘Especially since Krasilov has even defended a vampire and allied with dwarves.’
There was considerable backlash from the Papal Enclave when Enrique joined the Hero Party. Essentially, vampires weren’t much different from monsters, and they had even harmed sacred power in the process.
Why would a lineage that sucks human blood, infects humans, and is weakened under the symbol of sunlight, lead the representatives of humanity?
However, Krasilov, being an extremely rational nation, adhered to a meritocratic policy and valued Enrique highly. After all, he had indeed killed the Demon King, making this somewhat understandable.
Yet dwarves… They were plainly of demonic lineage. During the Great War, they had been the forefront of plundering civilized nations.
Just being allied with them alone places Krasilov in a highly compromised position. There was a good reason they hadn’t established official diplomatic ties yet.
Even after the situation subsides, dwarves should not appear in the official diplomatic line for a time. It may be akin to the needed stability where royal power surpasses divine authority in a world where sacred powers have vanished.
A religion that all its people believe in will naturally possess authority greater than that of the monarch.
*
“Religion is a drug for the people!!”
Elizaveta exclaimed dramatically, biting her lip. The officials listening flinched at her outburst.
Yet, nothing of the sort mattered. Elizaveta slammed the table furiously, pouring out her grievances.
“An ex-Saint who dares to take her man abroad after losing all her divine powers, and that decrepit Pope threatening the world to convene a council! They’re all high as kites on the same drug!”
“Truly, indeed it seems so, Your Majesty!”
Dmitri hastily glanced around as he spoke. Thankfully, the people present were those who knew his family background, so there was no need to silence him further.
“It’s difficult to mobilize military forces. Sending Vanka back is also a challenge. If both are impossible, then what else is there that’s easy for you?!”
“Your Majesty, please calm down! According to the latest intel….”
“Let me guess, it’s news of Vanka killing someone, destroying a city, and collapsing the nation again!!”
Dmitri silenced himself in response to Elizaveta’s shout. He had already heard the report that the train had derailed and yet to reach its destination, indicating some incident was clearly about to unfold.
And Ivan’s case was notorious for resolving problems with murder. Deductive killings. Following the previous premise, the instigators who confronted Ivan with “issues” were all dead.
“Your Majesty, Rundis Elevandi requests an audience.”
“…An audience?”
As Elizaveta made a puzzled face, thinking who Rundis was, she soon frowned. The daughter of the dwarf scribe, huh?
If she was not seeking out the Chancellor of Jan’s University, but rather finding the King of Krasilov, then that could be considered formal diplomatic envoy. Her standing was more of a diplomatic envoy than a hostage.
After forcing her indignation down, Elizaveta gave a curt nod, and soon the door to the audience chamber opened, revealing a short woman coming in hurriedly.
“I humbly greet the great monarch of Krasilov. I am Rundis, the daughter of Durandline Elevandi.”
Rundis properly exhibited old-fashioned courtly manners and bowed her head. She proceeded to speak while still deeply bowing.
“If you would enable the retrieval of our nation’s artifacts buried beneath Jan’s University underground, we may alleviate Krasilov’s worries.”
Looking down at Rundis, Elizaveta paused for a moment to gather her thoughts.
*Beneath Jan’s University…?*
“The Great Earth Digger. That artifact you refer to as a digging machine has yet to be retrieved from beneath Jan’s University. During the last civil war, our rebels brazenly attempted to seize that artifact and lost it in the process. Thus, we request the return of the artifact at a fair price.”
Elizaveta’s expression had already transformed into one befitting a monarch. She coldly nodded, baring her thoughts through a curt reply.
“What would that price be?”
Naturally, she had to ponder what the artifact could be. Whether it could be unearthed again or not depended on the dwarves. Although many dwarven artisans would flow into the country, it was all happening underground, making it unobservable from the outside.
A train already established connections directly with the dwarves’ territories beneath the city. The ongoing trade since last year had sufficiently expanded that railway.
The ancient artifact capable of boring through all earth and mountains; according to the report from the Cleanup Unit, it was said to be the last artifact still beneath this city. Everything else had been destroyed during the Great War.
One must always require rare compensation for rare items. Upon Elizaveta’s inquiry, Rundis softly smiled, recalling her father’s words.
“After all, authority originates not from the muzzle of a gun.”
The reason elves in aerial battles sailing across the skies go undetected is that human watchtowers and castle walls extend towards the ground instead of the sky.
This was similarly true during the Great War when the dwarves made rear strikes using the Great Earth Digger; humans found it hard to react due to difficulties in detecting operations occurring underground.
That meant infractions by elves and dwarves rendered human borders meaningless. They believed that whether above wide skies or vast lands, it was all theirs.
“We shall dig the tunnel ourselves. Fire when ready.”
If the path of advance is underground, dwarves can provide the most powerful supply and transportation routes in this civilized world.
“Oh.”
Elizaveta chewed on that thought, happily chuckling.
A consolidated supply line, minimized non-combat losses, and military mobilization without the need for consideration of information control or marching routes.
Just hearing that seems promising for significant military expense reduction, doesn’t it?
