WeTried Translations

Translator: Hydrogen B

Editor: Hydrogen B

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

Chapter 165: The Red Banquet (4)

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After reuniting with his comrades in an alley on the outskirts of Renavik for the first time in four years.

Having dealt with the Empire spy, Kyle immediately returned to the Grand Duke's estate with Hermann and Walter. Thanks to their brisk pace, they made it back before darkness had fully fallen.

The six knights, including Gerant, did not come with them. They still had work to do. More importantly, there was still a chance that more spies might approach. Kyle regretted it, but did not show it.

He would see them on the day of the banquet anyway.

He knew they had not died. He had seen with his own eyes that they were alive.

No, even if that were not the case, he could visit them whenever he wanted.

He was no longer left agonizing without even knowing whether they were dead or alive.

The Grand Duke's estate in Renavik was fully furnished for guests to rest whenever necessary, perhaps because servants lived there year-round. Thanks to that, Kyle and the other two were able to recover from the fatigue of their several-day journey.

The Grand Duke had still not returned late into the night. Kyle had initially worried that something might have happened, but soon stopped thinking about it. This was the heart of Renavik. No one would be insane enough to assassinate a member of the Council before the banquet had even begun. The Grand Duke likely had mountains of matters to coordinate as well, so being delayed a day or two was hardly strange.

The next morning after arriving in Renavik.

“Phew...”

Kyle slowly breathed in and out. Dawn had only just broken. He sat beneath the shade of a small tree in the estate's front garden.

The estate in central Renavik was much smaller than the Grand Duke's estate in Rier. Even so, it had a garden suitable for meditation. After sleeping deeply the night before, Kyle rose early, brought his sword outside, and began training with Prisia's mana. With the banquet so close, he wanted to become as accustomed as possible to handling mana beforehand.

Is spring finally coming?

With his eyes closed, Kyle had that idle thought as the wind blew past him. Unlike before, the breeze brushing against his skin carried a faint warmth.

It's still not enough. It's improved a lot compared to before, but...

Kyle muttered inwardly as he felt Prisia's mana circulating throughout his body. Every Dragon possessed its own innate Authority. Prisia's Authority, as the Progenitor Dragon, was especially difficult to control. Simply glimpsing the future for a brief instant nearly drained all his strength. Worse still, he could not control when it happened.

How long will it take before I can use it freely at a crucial moment, rather than falling into it unconsciously?

It did not feel impossible. He simply could not do it yet. Time would solve it, but that did not stop him from feeling impatient.

It's overwhelming power, but it isn't invincible.

What he had told Hermann then was true. He was only glimpsing countless possible futures, not deciding them. No matter how many times he saw it, it meant nothing if his body could not keep up. More than anything, Hermann had held back considerably because of Kyle's injuries at the time. If they fought at full strength, Kyle could not guarantee victory.

At least, not yet.

Kyle opened his eyes. He had apparently meditated for quite some time, as the bluish sky had become tinged with morning light.

If I become more skilled at handling mana... If I can weave Prisia's mana into Sword Aura...

Kyle rose to his feet. He drew the sword resting on his knees and carefully set its sheath beneath the tree. Morning sunlight shattered white across the flawless star iron blade.

Holding Yurian's sword, Kyle began to perform the seven forms of Asherad Royal Swordsmanship, now engraved into his instincts, one by one without mana.

First Form, Rising Flame.

Second Form, Dance of Embers.

Third Form, Piercing Frost.

Fourth Form, Flowing Moonlight.

Fifth Form, Ashen Storm.

Sixth Form, Repose of the North Wind.

And the final Seventh Form, Brand of Ash.

The more his sword cut through the air, the clearer his mind became. He was not using mana, yet his Sword Path seemed sharper than before. If he added Prisia's mana to this, could he kill not only Cassius Mortein, but the Emperor as well?

“You're up early. Sleep well?”

A familiar voice came from nearby at that moment. Kyle stopped swinging his sword and steadied his slightly quickened breathing. When he turned, Hermann was walking toward him from the estate. Like Kyle, he wore a star iron sword at his waist.

“Deputy Commander.”

“You're diligent. Rowen could nag at you all he wanted in the past, and you'd still sleep in.”

“Did you come out to train?”

“No. Even if I wanted to, I have to head out soon. I'm a pretty busy man, you know. I saw you were already out here, so I came to talk. How's it going?”

Hermann looked directly at Yurian's sword in Kyle's hand. At some point, Kyle had grown used to wielding it.

“Yes. I think it's going well.”

“Really? What about that power you used last time, the one that lets you see several moves ahead?”

“If things go well, I think I can use it in actual combat. It consumes too much stamina, so I should avoid it unless I'm certain.”

“One use at a critical moment is enough. At that point, the margin is paper-thin anyway.”

The higher the level of the knights fighting, the more a split-second decision determined life or death. Depending on their condition that day and the surrounding circumstances, the outcome could be overturned even with a gap in skill. In that respect, Prisia's Authority was absurdly powerful. Even if it only showed him several seconds into the future, he could see every possibility with his own eyes in an instant.

“More importantly, has the Grand Duke returned?”

Kyle gently sheathed Yurian's sword as he asked.

“He's back.”

“When?”

“After midnight. He seems quite busy too. There are more hardline nobles than you can count, and he has to watch the neutral nobles weighing their options, as well as the movements of the moderate nobles. The deployment of the Council Knights is another problem.”

“Did the Grand Duke meet with the Commander of the Chevaliers?”

“That's what I heard. He plans to handle the aftermath until the day before the banquet.”

“What will you do, Deputy Commander?”

“I'll keep watching the situation as I have been. The odds aren't high, but I can't stop thinking about that spy disguised as a merchant, the one you killed yesterday.”

“...”

“What about you, Kyle?”

Hermann asked. Kyle thought for a moment before answering.

“I'll look around the city.”

“The city?”

“Just in case. Unlike the other knights, this is my first time in Renavik. I should at least get a sense of the layout.”

“But the city is overflowing with people right now.”

“Is that a problem?”

Kyle looked at Hermann with an innocent expression. Hermann gave a brief hum, then spoke as if it were no big deal.

“I suppose not. No one knows your face yet.”

“I won't go far.”

Hermann nodded once. In the past, no one in the order could rival Kyle's ability to handle mana or sense his surroundings. If he wished, he could identify structures and people hundreds of meters away. His instincts had always been sharper than anyone else's.

“Don't come back too late.”

“You too, Deputy Commander.”

“Hey, I'm not old enough to be worried about by someone else.”

“Neither am I.”

“True enough. We're both getting old. At this rate, we'll die of old age without a single child.”

They exchanged idle chatter for a while before Hermann waved and left. Watching his retreating back, Kyle raised his head and looked up at the sky.

Day had completely broken. The quiet estate was now lively, as was the city beyond it. Kyle left through the estate's main gate. Yurian's sword gleamed brightly at his waist.

* * *

Renavik, the capital of the Kalov Kingdom, was the Federation's largest city.

That same morning, as Kyle walked through the city himself, he saw things he had not noticed before.

A metropolis of one million people. It was not simply large. Countless landmarks stood throughout the city. Among them were the Federation Council's assembly hall and the royal castle at its very center. There were also endless shopping districts, broad plazas, bell towers that seemed to pierce the sky, and churches scattered throughout.

Seeing it in person, it really is very different from Archandia.

Archandia, the Empire capital, was orderly and uniform. Renavik, the capital of the Kalov Kingdom, was its complete opposite. The sprawling city stretched outward like a web from the royal castle and assembly hall, creating a discordant blend of the cultures of five kingdoms.

Yet it did not seem strange.

If anything, it suited the city.

The scenery likely differed so greatly from city to city because the Federation was not an ordinary single nation. People from different kingdoms had gathered from all over and naturally formed the city, creating this unique atmosphere. That was not bad for Kyle either. Disorder also meant there were plenty of gaps to exploit.

“Make way! Clear the road!”

A procession of lavish carriages passed through the middle of a wide street. The pedestrians gathered at the edge of the avenue frowned at the coachmen waving them aside, but stepped out of the way as much as they could.

Could there be nobles among them that I'll have to kill?

Kyle stood amid the crowd and examined each passing noble carriage and the family crests carved upon them. None were familiar. Kyle knew the Federation's most influential families well, so they were likely middling nobles rather than high-ranking ones.

There is still time before the banquet. They might not have arrived yet.

Or perhaps they had already arrived and were waiting.

Either way, it was probably better not to meet them right now.

Afterward, Kyle moved through the vast city and learned the important locations. He did not need to walk every street himself. He had become more skilled at handling mana than before.

Using Prisia's mana, he swept through crowded streets and other locations, leaving no alley unexplored. Escape routes and places where combat might break out naturally filled his mind. At this rate, there should be no major issue if a battle happened inside or outside the banquet hall. His control of Prisia's mana was solid, and he was in good condition.

“Hey, sir! Aren't you hungry? Have one before you go!”

He had just entered a sizable shopping district when a nearby street vendor called out to him. Kyle slowly turned toward the vendor.

“Were you calling me?”

“That's right. You look like a capable mercenary. What do you say?”

The vendor was selling grilled meat skewers. Despite the crowd around the stall, there were no customers. As Kyle approached, he looked at the skewers roasting over charcoal and the price sign, then swallowed a sigh.

He could see why the stall was empty.

“Business isn't going well?”

As soon as Kyle asked, the vendor lamented as if he had been waiting for someone to do so.

“Don't even ask. There are plenty of people, but hardly anyone's buying.”

“You must be from out of town.”

“Huh? How did you know?”

“It's obvious. The meat isn't very good, but the price is high. Food is everywhere, so no one will spend that much money on this. You probably set up near the central shopping district hoping to make a quick profit, but then you should've prepared better food. Or you could go to the outskirts and sell it cheap.”

It was a common occurrence. People paid high fees for a good spot, then got greedy.

Unless the stall had already been famous, it usually ended in failure. There were far too many vendors from out of town like this, hoping to make a quick profit. Besides, it was not even evening yet, when street vendors selling food did their best business. Things might improve later, but for the time being, the vendor would keep seeing nothing but flies.

“You're saying I should lower the price? But then I won't even make back the fee for the spot...”

“Then hold out until evening. By then, you'll at least avoid a loss.”

“Urgh...”

Watching the vendor groan, Kyle ordered one skewer.

“Give me one.”

“Huh? Really?”

“Yes. Make it freshly grilled.”

The delighted vendor handed him a golden-brown skewer. Kyle paid with a silver coin the Grand Duke had given him, adding a generous tip to the original price. The vendor's expression brightened at once.

“Whenever I went to a festival, I always bought one of these grilled skewers. There were far better foods if you only cared about taste, but I still did. Looking back, I think I was swept up in the festival atmosphere. This sort of rough meat tasted so good back then.”

Elysia's remembered voice suddenly crossed his mind. Kyle, silently chewing the meat, froze on instinct. He turned his gaze to the side, but only people who had come to the shopping district that morning passed by.

There was no trace of Elysia anywhere.

Only Kyle stood alone amid the crowd.

“Uh... Sir, are you all right?”

When Kyle suddenly stood there in a daze, the vendor looked at him with concern.

“There's no problem. It was good. I hope your business goes well this evening.”

Kyle finished the remaining meat and left. As he pushed deeper into the stream of people, his suspicion turned into certainty.

Someone is following me.

Where did they start following me?

At first, he thought it was a simple mistake. Their presence was that faint. Yet the farther he went, the stronger the sense of unease became. To evade his senses this thoroughly meant they were using some kind of magic.

And they were a highly skilled mage.

Annoying. Is this what the Grand Duke meant when he told me to be careful?

He understood it even less because he had done nothing that would leave a trail. Had they discovered his reunion with the other knights yesterday? Or were they following him simply because he had left the Grand Duke's estate?

Kyle left the shopping district and entered a winding alleyway. The fewer people there were around him and the fainter the noise became, the more clearly he felt the trace of whoever followed behind him.

“Come out. I already know you're there.”

Kyle stopped in the alley and turned around. After a short while, someone appeared around the bend in the road. A green robe rippled into view from empty air.

“Oh. Your senses are sharp. As expected of one of His Grace's knights.”

Illusion Magic, Hallucination.

As the refracted light returned to normal, a mage appeared openly before him. A low voice drifted from beneath the deeply drawn hood. Kyle's brow twitched at seeing his own favored spell used against him.

They were quite powerful.

Are they alone?

“Please don't be wary. I did not come to fight.”

Kyle's left hand silently gripped his sword sheath. Seeing that, the mage's lips curved into a gentle smile. Kyle did not draw his sword, only stared at the mage, and the mage spoke again.

“Excuse me, but my master wishes to meet you.”

“Your master?”

“Yes. His Majesty King Philip has personally requested an audience with you.”

Kyle's left hand tightened around the sheath.

The mage's smile deepened.

Philip Merkan. The King of Russel, whose kingdom had suffered the greatest losses this time, and an Empire collaborator at the very top of Kyle's list of people to kill.

Kyle instinctively drew up Prisia's mana. The mage bowed deeply in flawless etiquette.

“Would you please accompany me?”

Footnotes:

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