WeTried Translations
Translator: Hydrogen B
Editor: Hydrogen B
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
Chapter 170: The Red Banquet (9)
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Kyle twisted this way and that in front of a large mirror. Reflected before him stood a tall, black-haired man dressed in a neatly pressed, pitch-black formal outfit.
I never thought it would come to this.
Kyle clicked his tongue inwardly. On the day of the banquet, he had risen a little earlier than usual. There was much to prepare from the morning onward, most notably the clothes he would wear to the banquet.
Ahead of the Grand Assembly held in Renavik every five years, nobles from across the Federation gathered for a banquet without fail. Naturally, it was bound to be a grand affair. There was no official dress code, but an unspoken rule dictated that no one could arrive looking too disheveled or shabby. That was how Kyle had ended up in formal attire, something he would never normally wear.
Thanks to turning in early yesterday, I don't feel too bad.
Though I can't do anything about how uncomfortable these clothes are.
Kyle kept grumbling as he looked at his reflection. He had deliberately chosen the plainest, most modest formal outfit possible, without a single decoration, but it was unbearably uncomfortable, as though he were wearing clothes that did not fit.
It was only natural. Over the past four years, Kyle had not attended a proper banquet or party even once. He had always worn clothes suited for work as a mercenary. Yet today, he wore clothing focused entirely on appearances, without even his black cloak. With no sword at his waist, he could not shake the uneasy, empty feeling in his chest.
If this had been before, before he had lost everything, things might have been a little different.
Knock, knock.
Kyle had been lost in idle thoughts before the mirror when a quiet knock suddenly sounded. A moment later, a large, middle-aged man entered.
“Are you ready?”
It was Hermann. Unlike Kyle, he wore clothes similar to what he usually wore. They were practical, not formal attire meant to impress others. His beloved star iron sword hung at his waist.
“Yes.”
“It suits you.”
“Don't say things you don't mean.”
“No, I mean it. You're tall and well-proportioned, so anything looks good on you. Cecilia would have been very pleased to see you like this.”
Hermann spoke with a bitter look in his eyes. A heavy silence settled over the room. Kyle looked down at himself.
“...Is that so?”
The north was not a place where people fought every day. Banquets were held there regularly as well. Kyle had disliked such occasions, but Cecilia had been different. She enjoyed them.
Even now, Kyle could remember it clearly. Their ordinary conversations. The cold night wind brushing against his skin. The brilliant lights of the banquet hall. Even the hems of dresses flowing beneath them like waves.
“More importantly, where is my sword?”
None of that mattered anymore. Kyle quickly pushed the thoughts from his mind and asked. His sword was nowhere in the room because he had handed it to Hermann the night before.
“Walter has it.”
“Did Walter leave first?”
“Yeah, with the rest of the members. Walter will give you your sword later.”
“It's troublesome that anyone who isn't a Royal Palace knight isn't allowed to carry even a small blade. They even inspect us beforehand.”
“They're probably being cautious in case of a terrorist attack.”
“Wouldn't it be better for you to serve as the Grand Duke's guard instead of me, Deputy Commander?”
“Me?”
Hermann let out a short laugh. It was Kyle, not Hermann, who would accompany the Grand Duke as his guard at the banquet. That was why he had been forced into this uncomfortable formal outfit.
“There shouldn't be a problem, though.”
“Then...”
“But you're still better suited for it than I am. As you can see, my northern accent stands out. You, on the other hand, can speak with a perfect Imperial accent. Everyone knows that the nobles and knights under the Grand Duke are exiles from the Empire, so you'd look far more natural.”
Kyle could not bring himself to argue. Only one person could accompany the Grand Duke. Since Gilbert, the Grand Duke's right-hand man, had remained in Rier, Kyle was the best choice. He had the skill to respond with force if necessary, as well as the manners and accent required.
“What, are you tired already?”
When Kyle's expression darkened, Hermann teased him.
“...No.”
Kyle shook his head. Hermann had led the members who had survived over the past four years. It was only right for him, the Deputy Commander, to clear out the Royal Palace before they raided the banquet hall. Before carrying out the operation, it was more efficient to remove as many variables as possible.
“If it gets too tiring, just go eat something. You don't need to talk to anyone. The Grand Duke will handle everything.”
“...”
“It'll all be over by the end of today anyway.”
Kyle silently nodded. Once they had finished preparing, the two left the room.
Everything was already prepared in the estate courtyard for their trip to the Royal Palace. Kyle stood still and looked around. Renavik, now in March, was gradually filling with the warmth of spring. One by one, spring flowers began to bloom on the dry branches throughout the garden. The sun, which had been directly overhead only a short while ago, was slowly setting.
“Deputy Commander.”
“Go on ahead. I'll meet up with Walter separately inside the Royal Palace later.”
“...Please be careful.”
“Yeah. It's too early to die now. At least on this land.”
“...”
“See you this evening.”
Hermann lightly patted Kyle on the shoulder. With Hermann silently seeing him off, Kyle walked toward the carriage waiting before the estate's main gate. The servants bowed deeply as they saw him approach. Kyle stepped into the carriage where the Grand Duke waited.
* * *
Central Renavik was in complete chaos on the day of the banquet.
An endless line of carriages, overflowing crowds, and noise.
Kyle narrowed his eyes as he looked out the window. Streetlamps powered by Magic Stones stood at regular intervals along the neatly maintained main roads of the city center. Ornately decorated carriages traveled down the middle of the road. People who had come to watch packed both sides of the street.
The estate was not far from the Royal Palace, but the journey took a long time because the carriages had slowed to a crawl in the congestion. For a while, Kyle examined the family crests engraved on each passing carriage. Some clearly belonged to prominent houses he recognized at a glance, but most were unfamiliar. Nobles from every region had gathered here.
“It suits you.”
Adrian, seated across from him, spoke at that moment. Kyle slowly turned his gaze away from the window.
“At least it looks much better than when you're wrapped in that gloomy cloak. Do you prefer subdued colors?”
Adrian wore a white formal outfit accented with gold and red. It was the complete opposite of Kyle's clothing, which was mostly black. Kyle answered without emotion.
“I don't like anything flashy.”
“So it seems. I think black suits you better than white too, Sir Kyle.”
“...”
“Is your mind still troubled?”
Adrian studied Kyle as he asked. After a brief pause, Kyle replied.
“A little.”
“You don't need to make it complicated. We aren't killing all of them. We'll only deal with the collaborators who are too deeply involved with the Empire. Those deserving leniency, or those who got tangled up in this by accident, will be bound instead. They will no longer enjoy the same influence as before, of course.”
If every royal and noble connected to the Empire were killed, the Federation would inevitably fall into chaos. Even considering the aftermath, the Grand Duke intended to cut down only a minimum number of people, including the King of Russel. Maintaining the system was essential for the coming war with the Empire.
“Leaving them a way to survive...”
“A cornered rat will rush in without fear of death, but a rat with hope will not. By then, even the neutral nobles who have been watching from the sidelines will change sides. If we're too harsh, it'll only provoke resistance.”
There were more than one or two nobles involved in this matter. Even those who could not openly be called collaborators all had one or two things to feel guilty about. Those who openly opposed the Empire were rarer. Excessive measures could drive all the neutral parties away because none of them could be certain that they would not be next.
“Has the Commander of the Chevaliers already arrived?”
A thought suddenly occurred to Kyle, and he asked. Adrian readily nodded.
“Most likely.”
“He was quick. I thought someone in a position equivalent to the Commander of the Council Knights would make an appearance at the end.”
“That sly old man has been desperate to crush Russel and Selaine for a long time. The Empire's invasion handed him more than enough justification, so he must be burning with excitement by now. They were the ones who constantly interfered with military expansion for the Federation Army and with every action the Chevaliers took.”
“Even when troops were sent to Hailen?”
Kyle asked again. Adrian was silent for a moment before finally answering.
“...Yes.”
“Then that's enough.”
Nothing else mattered. From Kyle's perspective, those who collaborated with the Empire were no different from Imperial nobles.
“I'll see him soon, then.”
“Many people want to meet you, Sir Kyle. Godfrey, the Commander of the Chevaliers, is one of them. Armand, the King of Valone, is another.”
“What about the Council Knights?”
“They are already waiting near the Royal Palace.”
Adrian gestured toward the street. After glancing at him, Kyle looked out the window again. At the same time, he slowly drew upon Prisia's mana.
People crowded along the main road.
At first glance, they looked like ordinary spectators who had come to see a procession of nobles rarely seen in public. Yet some were different. As Kyle spread his senses wide, he noticed several unusual figures mixed into the crowd. When he shifted his gaze slightly, he saw a man disguised as a mercenary.
One of the Chevaliers?
The man, sensing Kyle's presence, looked toward the carriage Kyle was riding in. For an instant, their eyes met. After confirming the crest on the carriage carrying the Grand Duke, the man's eyes flickered almost imperceptibly. Council Knights were stationed throughout the area as well.
At the corners of alleyways. On rooftops. Or mingled among the crowds.
There shouldn't be any major problems.
Adrian had said that, in addition to the Council Knights, the private forces of other hardliner nobles were present as well. They could not openly move troops within Renavik, so if it came down to a fight between small groups, this side would have the advantage. The moderate nobles had made no notable moves over the past few days.
Prisia's mana had also become far easier to control than before. The same was true of the Authority that allowed him to glimpse the near future. Thanks to training his mana in his room for several days, he could now use it consciously. It still consumed a great deal of stamina, but it seemed more than useful enough as a trump card at a critical moment.
Kyle slowly closed his eyes as he watched the passing scenery.
The Royal Palace was already close at hand.
* * *
By late afternoon, the grand banquet hall of Renavik's Royal Palace was crowded with countless people. Every one of them was someone rarely seen under ordinary circumstances.
The five kingdoms of the Federation. The great nobles of those kingdoms. Merchants who were not nobles but held power greater than most houses. Famous knights and mages, as well as priests of the Church.
Groups naturally formed throughout the hall. Those attending Renavik's banquet, held once every five years, conversed with people they knew. Yet whether they were great nobles recognizable at a glance or low-ranking nobles with quiet estates in the distant countryside, they all spoke of the same thing.
War.
“They say the King of Russel is running around everywhere to secure a truce with the Empire...”
“Wouldn't His Majesty Armand of Valone oppose it?”
“Everyone knows Sir Godfrey, the Commander of the Chevaliers, is His Majesty Armand's most loyal subject. If the two join forces, it may not be impossible.”
“I heard he met with the Grand Duke privately...”
“Selaine won't sit still either.”
People gathered throughout the banquet hall whispered as they looked toward one particular place. The kings of the Federation, who had appeared near the end, stood there alongside Godfrey, the Commander of the Chevaliers.
As if proving their cold relationship, they stood apart from one another. The Kings of Valone and Rustin stood with Godfrey, the Federation's greatest knight. Far from them, the Kings of Russel and Selaine gathered with the moderate nobles. Those who remained neutral watched the situation from between the two sides.
“It feels like something's going to happen today...”
“What do you mean, something?”
“Isn't the Grand Assembly of the council just around the corner? They still haven't reached a proper truce agreement with the Empire. It wouldn't be strange for either side to take drastic action soon...”
A noble whispering in a distant corner of the hall suddenly fell silent. At that moment, another noble across from them looked on in confusion.
“A member of the Federation Council and Lord of Rier, His Grace Grand Duke Rivelius, enters!”
The noisy hall fell silent in an instant. Everyone turned toward the grand doors of the banquet hall. The tightly shut doors slowly opened. Accompanied by the servant's booming announcement, two figures appeared.
“Good heavens...”
“Hah...”
Gasps rose from every corner of the hall. The two men who had arrived near the end drew that much attention. One had blond hair and wore white formal attire. The other, in complete contrast, had black hair and wore black formal attire.
Most of those in the hall looked at the handsome blond man leading the way. A few, however, were different.
The kings of the Federation. High-ranking nobles, including Godfrey, the Commander of the Chevaliers. They glanced once at the Grand Duke before turning their eyes to the tall man behind him. The gazes of the high-ranking nobles among the moderates were especially sharp.
Philip, the King of Russel, stared directly at Kyle. The doors that had opened behind them finally closed. After slowly looking around the hall, Kyle turned his gaze toward one side of the room.
In the silence, Philip and Kyle's gazes tangled intricately in the air.
Footnotes:
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