WeTried Translations
Translator: Hydrogen B
Editor: Hydrogen B
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
Chapter 169: The Red Banquet (8)
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“Where the hell is that bastard wandering around at this hour?”
The early evening sun had set, and dusk had already settled over everything.
Walter and Hermann paced in front of the Grand Duke's estate. The night air was still chilly, but they waited all the same. Someone who should have returned long ago was nowhere to be seen. More than thirty minutes had passed, yet no one had come back to the estate.
“Deputy Commander, Kyle really went sightseeing around the city, right?”
Unable to bear it any longer, Walter spoke with a frustrated expression. It was already past dinner, but there was still no sign of Kyle.
“Probably. He said so himself. He also said he wouldn't go far.”
“And still no word from him?”
“I told him not to come back too late. He'll be here soon. Wait a little longer.”
Unlike Walter, Hermann remained calm. Or rather, he appeared calm.
Four years ago, during the Northern War, he had always been composed in every situation.
A commander could never lose his composure. Emotions were contagious, especially in desperate situations. Even when there was no solution, even when he had been driven to the edge of a cliff, he had to hide his feelings. That was why Hermann never grew anxious or afraid, no matter what happened.
He was the complete opposite of Walter.
“I hope he hasn't gotten caught up in something troublesome.”
“It’s possible.”
“Aren't you worried, Deputy Commander?”
“He's not the sort to go off and die somewhere. Dying alone in some foreign place is even less likely.”
“That may be true, but...”
Walter trailed off. He knew Kyle's skills well.
It was no coincidence that Kyle had been chosen as the new Commander instead of Hermann, who had been the Deputy Commander after Rowen's death. Even then, Kyle had been skilled enough not to be overwhelmed if he fought Hermann. And he had achieved that despite receiving proper knightly training for less than five years.
It was overwhelming talent.
Every member of the Knights of Ash had been called a genius since childhood, which only made Kyle stand out more. He had been Rowen's first, last, and only squire. He also had the respect of the others. There was nothing strange about a young man not yet thirty being chosen as Commander.
Though Kyle himself did not seem to accept that.
“I wouldn't be worried if this were in the past. But it isn't.”
Walter complained again, deep concern seeping into his voice.
“What if he's struggling because that curse suddenly disappeared?”
“You saw it too. The curse was gone.”
“But we don't know if it'll come back. Honestly, I still find it hard to believe. That Prisia's mana drove out the thorn, or that he absorbed the Progenitor Dragon's Dragon Heart.”
“But I lost to him in a spar. It was so absurdly one-sided that it was almost ridiculous.”
Despite what he said, Hermann understood Walter to some extent. In truth, he had been thinking the same thing.
Kyle's story was simply too unreal.
The claim that he had absorbed Prisia's Dragon Heart, which should have been guarded as one of the Imperial family's most important treasures, was unbelievable enough. So was the claim that the terrible curse that had driven Rowen, the previous Commander, to his death had been lifted.
No one would believe it without seeing it with their own eyes.
“Maybe I should've given him the prince's sword later...”
Walter muttered to himself. His gaze kept shifting between the brightly lit estate and the main road beyond the open gates, where Magic Stone streetlamps stood at regular intervals.
If only he had not given him the sword then.
Would Kyle have been a little more careful?
It was meaningless to think about it now, but regret kept rising within him. It would not have been too late to give Yurian's sword to Kyle just before the banquet. The moment he considered the possibility, he could not keep still.
What if Kyle died?
Before the banquet even began?
“There he is.”
Walter was imagining the worst when Hermann's calm voice reached his ears.
“Really? Where?”
Walter's eyes widened as he looked where Hermann pointed.
Beneath the Magic Stone lamps, a lone figure was staggering toward them. A black cloak and a sword hanging at the waist.
It was Kyle.
But he did not look normal.
“...Kyle?”
“What happened to you?”
Walter and Hermann spoke one after the other when they saw Kyle covered in blood. Kyle reached the open gate and answered with exhausted eyes.
“I'm sorry. I was late because I was checking whether I had a tail.”
“A tail?”
“Who did you fight?”
“Philip Merkan.”
Silence fell at Kyle's words.
“Philip Merkan...”
“The King of Russel. This has become troublesome.”
Hermann clicked his tongue. Along with the King of Selaine, the King of Russel was one of the leading moderate council members opposed to war with the Empire. He was also the most important target of the operation the Grand Duke had prepared for so long.
With the situation taking an ominous turn, Hermann asked with a stiff expression.
“You fought him?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“Well...”
In response to Hermann's question, Kyle began explaining everything that had happened.
Thinking back over the day, a great deal had happened.
He had left the estate and looked around the city in advance. He had encountered a mage in green robes. He had been invited to a gathering of Philip, the King of Russel, and leading moderate figures, where they had tried to win him over.
Then, after he refused and left, he had been ambushed and killed all of his attackers.
“Are you hurt?”
“No. This is all their blood.”
Once his explanation was roughly over, Hermann first asked about Kyle's condition. Kyle raised his arm, stained with dried dark red blood, to show that he was fine.
“I'm sorry. This is all my fault. I was too careless.”
Hermann lowered his eyes as if ashamed. Even if Kyle's face had not been recognized, leaving the Grand Duke's estate had been enough to make him a target.
Kyle shook his head as if it were nothing.
“No. It was my stubbornness that made me want to look around the city. It's my fault for wandering around defenselessly without realizing I was being followed.”
“...”
“Is the Grand Duke inside?”
Changing the subject, Kyle gestured toward the brightly lit estate. This time, Walter answered instead of Hermann.
“He is. He's probably finished dinner by now and is handling the rest of his work.”
“I see.”
“Are you going to see him right away?”
Kyle considered it, though not for long.
“No. Knowing that he's at the estate is enough.”
“Are you tired?”
“A little.”
“Then go rest for today. We'll speak with him.”
Kyle gave a small nod of thanks at Walter's consideration. After giving Hermann one final glance, Kyle walked heavily into the estate.
The smell of blood followed him with every step.
Reminded of the past from four years ago, Hermann and Walter silently watched Kyle's retreating back.
* * *
Leaving Hermann and Walter's worried gazes behind him, Kyle returned straight to his room, washed himself, and lay down on the bed. Between the fatigue of battle and the excessive use of Prisia's mana, he fell asleep not long afterward.
Drowsiness washed over him. His consciousness sank.
Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, he did not have a nightmare. Nor did he see Prisia's illusion.
When he opened his eyes, the unfamiliar ceiling he had seen yesterday filled his vision. Kyle felt refreshed after a deep sleep, but he could not hide a trace of disappointment. It had been quite some time since he had last seen Prisia in a dream.
After a simple breakfast...
“I heard you returned late yesterday. Are you all right?”
Kyle met with Adrian. Even after arriving in Renavik, Adrian spent every day overwhelmed with work.
“There's no problem. I fear I caused unnecessary concern.”
“Sir Kyle is central to this operation. It would be troublesome for me if you came to harm. I'm glad you're safe.”
Despite his words, Adrian did not look particularly worried. It was not that he did not care what happened to Kyle. Rather, he seemed never to have considered the possibility that Kyle could lose.
That was not a bad thing from Kyle's perspective.
It meant they had at least a minimum level of trust between them. Considering they would likely maintain a long relationship after this was over, it was all the more necessary to keep things smooth. If the council was reorganized, Adrian's influence would clearly become second only to the King of Calorf, the council's chairman.
The scale of support for the north would also be decided then.
“Philip Merkan...”
Adrian, sitting on the sofa, let out a low murmur. His blue eyes darkened as he looked toward central Renavik beyond the window.
“I didn't expect the King of Russel to act personally.”
“Did you hear from the Deputy Commander?”
“To some extent. In truth, I had considered that they might approach you. Even if they don't know Sir Kyle's true identity, the fact that you're my direct knight gives you sufficient value. I thought they would use moderate nobles under their command to persuade you indirectly, but I didn't expect him to come himself. Are they that desperate?”
Adrian tapped the table with his fingers.
Hermann had already told him the rough details that morning. Kyle had encountered the King of Russel while walking through the city yesterday and had been offered a place on their side. Then he had been attacked on his way back after refusing.
None of it was something that could be easily overlooked.
“Still, it shouldn't be a serious problem.”
Yet Adrian continued as if it were no great matter.
“According to you, there won't be any evidence. Even if they try to accuse you based on suspicion, they would effectively be confessing to ordering the assassination of Sir Kyle, who is publicly my knight.”
“Won't they flee?”
“Flee?”
Adrian scoffed.
“That's impossible. At the Grand Assembly, every council member has one vote. The moderates are trying to prevent war through an unfair agreement with the Empire. With me included, the side in favor has one more person. They will be desperate to win over the King of Calorf, the neutral chairman of the council. Why would they withdraw in that situation?”
Once war resumed, the Kingdom of Russel would suffer near-ruinous damage. The same went for Selaine directly behind it.
After losing their influence in the council, there was no telling what retaliation the Empire might inflict on them. Useless tools were discarded.
Russel and Selaine would both suffer enormously if the Empire simply cut off trade and the funds being sent behind the scenes. For its part, the Empire did not want the war to drag on either. The Northern War had greatly reduced the number of wyvern knights.
“The Kings of Russel and Selaine are no different from the Empire's dogs. They'll remain until the end and struggle desperately, if only because they fear the Emperor's wrath. It's an open secret among those who know that they have been secretly colluding with the Empire.”
“Will there be any changes to the operation?”
“No. It proceeds as planned. Did you hear that I met Duke Servier, the Commander of the Chevaliers, the day before yesterday?”
Kyle nodded, and Adrian continued.
“The Council Knights have already infiltrated all across Renavik disguised as mercenaries. Twenty of them. There are also the mages and elite soldiers of other hardline nobles, so we have enough strength to stop anyone heading for the banquet hall from outside. Inside, Duke Servier himself and your Knights of Ash will deal with them. The only concern is that this may make them more vigilant...”
“That won't be a problem.”
Kyle spoke firmly. Adrian raised an eyebrow with interest.
“Do you know that Sir Hermann and Sir Walter captured additional spies?”
“Yes, I do.”
“I heard they have brought in Gold-rank Mercenaries and even paladins from the Crescent Theocracy. If my guess is right, their resistance may be stronger than expected.”
“It doesn't matter.”
Kyle answered without the slightest hesitation. There was no arrogance in his voice. He simply sounded as if he were calmly stating a fact.
“Is that so?”
Adrian's lips curled into a long smile.
“The banquet is close. Go and rest.”
“...”
“I'll take care of the rest.”
* * *
After meeting with the Grand Duke, Kyle returned to his room and spent several peaceful days.
He sampled the varied dishes the servants brought him. He steadily practiced controlling Prisia's mana. He went to bed before midnight and slept soundly.
Since killing Philip's retainers in that alley, he had not left the estate even once. There was no need to. Everything he needed was in the estate Gilbert had prepared for the Grand Duke in central Renavik. The Grand Duke, Hermann, and Walter also came by whenever they had time to see to Kyle's needs.
Thanks to that, Kyle further sharpened his dulled swordsmanship and control of Prisia's mana. Every day, he trained in the garden. Once, he felt the urge to leave the estate, but he gave up on it. Philip and the other moderate nobles already knew his face. There was no need to go outside and put them on guard.
There was only one thing important to Kyle now.
Overwhelming power that surpassed his prime, and the strength to destroy the Empire.
In the past, it had been a vague goal. Now, things were different.
The curse was gone. He had Prisia's power. The surviving members were with him.
He was drawing closer and closer to a dream that had once been impossible.
Kyle no longer dreamed of Prisia, but he could always feel the Progenitor Dragon's mana racing through his body. At times, a sense of omnipotence wrapped around his entire body. Kyle lost himself in meditation at every opportunity.
Several days passed while he stayed at the estate in Renavik.
The day of the banquet arrived.
Footnotes:
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