WeTried Translations
Translator: Hydrogen B
Editor: Hydrogen B
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
Chapter 178: The Red Banquet (17)
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After leaving Adrian's office, Kyle immediately stopped a servant passing nearby. The neatly dressed man had been glancing at Kyle ever since he emerged from the office.
“Are you busy?”
“N-No, sir. Is there something you need?”
“I'd like to go to the underground prison. Show me the way.”
“The underground prison?”
“Yes. I have business there.”
The man looked at Kyle with an odd expression. His sidelong gaze shifted toward the closed office door. The servants of the estate Gilbert had purchased knew that the Ash Knights, including Kyle, were closely connected to the Grand Duke. They also knew that Philip, the King of Russel, was imprisoned underground.
“Understood. Please follow me.”
The man did not deliberate for long. Kyle had just come out of the Grand Duke's office, so the matter must have already been settled. Having reached that conclusion, he readily nodded. Kyle followed closely behind him with quick, short steps.
“Here we are.”
After passing a stair landing and descending to the first floor, the servant stopped at the corner of a hallway. Kyle looked at the small wooden door before him. Its stained surface felt out of place against the estate's antique elegance. If anything, it seemed ominous.
“Once you open it, you'll find stairs leading underground. Just keep a hand against the wall as you go down.”
“I see.”
“Shall I bring you a Magic Stone Lamp? You could easily trip in there...”
“It's fine. Thank you for showing me. You may go.”
At Kyle's dismissal, the perceptive servant did not add another word. He bowed and quickly left. Kyle watched him go, then carefully opened the old wooden door.
Creeeak.
The old hinges let out an unpleasant sound. A stale smell of mold pricked his nose.
The space beyond the open door was unlike an ordinary room. Stairs descended into darkness with no visible end. Kyle took one last look at the first-floor hallway, bathed in morning sunlight, then stepped into the darkness below. Once he closed the door, everything went completely black.
Slowly, Kyle drew up Prisia's mana.
Whoosh!
Mana rose at his will, forming a white sphere over his palm. He sent the pure white orb floating ahead, illuminating the area around him. As he descended the stairs, the sound of his footsteps echoed eerily off the walls.
At the same time, he thought.
How far did the Emperor's influence reach?
It was something he had thought about for a long time. It had been the same during the Northern War, which ended four years ago. Kyle longed for the Empire's destruction, yet he knew little about the Emperor himself.
He was no ordinary human. He was a monster who had survived for over a thousand years, taking over the bodies of his descendants since Elandor had still been a kingdom. He was the unknown being who had suppressed Prisia. For reasons unknown, he endlessly repeated wars of conquest and massacres.
What else was there? How far into the future had Prisia seen? Had she seen the Empire's destruction as well?
Kyle knew the Empire would have planted spies and carried out all kinds of schemes within the Federation. Even so, he had never expected most of the knights, including the commander of Russel's Royal Knights, to be from the Empire. Nor had he expected a wyvern knight to have infiltrated Russel so long ago.
That was why Kyle could not help worrying. Hailen had fallen, but the north itself had not disappeared. The north had returned to the chaotic era before Asherad, Hailen's first king, united it. There was no telling how deeply the Emperor had involved himself there.
Even Hermann and Walter did not seem to know the details.
The Federation itself had nearly been split in half. There was no way the north could be untouched.
In the worst-case scenario, the Emperor might have won over the surviving northern nobles and ruled through them indirectly.
That barren land was difficult for anyone but locals to live in. It would be more efficient to recruit northerners than to oppress the region directly. More people must have survived the war than died in it.
The stairs ended. Solid ground met the tip of Kyle's foot. He raised the sphere floating before him higher.
At the end of the underground passage was a wine cellar that appeared to be over ten meters wide and long. Yet there were no oak barrels where they should have been. There were only stone walls, arched pillars stretching out here and there, and a ceiling. This seemed to be the underground prison Adrian had mentioned.
No wonder the estate had not seemed strange when he first entered. They had converted a wine cellar into a prison.
Magic Stone Lamps hanging around the walls cast a soft reddish glow. Kyle dismissed the sphere of light above him. Prisia's mana scattered white light through the air before melting away.
Finding Philip was not difficult. He lay limply at the very end of the wine cellar, his back against the stone wall and his eyes closed. Chains running from the wall were tightly wrapped around his hands and feet, forming cuffs and shackles.
“You...”
Perhaps sensing someone approach, Philip's trembling eyelids rose. Surprise crossed his face when he saw Kyle approaching.
“Did you come to laugh at me?”
It lasted only a moment. Philip's gaze turned resigned as he let his body slump again.
“I suppose you did. You're on the Grand Duke's side, after all. You may have wanted to see a defeated man's face at least once.”
“Are they treating you well?”
“Treating me well?”
Philip gave a dry laugh at Kyle's changed manner of speaking. He still wore the clothes from the banquet, and he was clearly not in good condition. They were filthy and torn, with dark, dried blood splattered across them from when Kyle had killed the knights. Nearby, a bowl containing leftover food lay discarded like a corpse.
“Ah, yes. Very well. It's not bad. The food comes on time too...”
“That's good to hear.”
Kyle replied flatly and stopped in front of Philip. Without looking up at him, Philip asked,
“What happened to the others?”
“The others?”
“The moderate nobles. Are they safe?”
“You don't need to worry about them. Unless their crimes are severe, they'll keep their lives.”
“What about Sebastian?”
“He'll be deposed. His eldest son, the crown prince, will take the vacant throne.”
“So you won't kill him.”
“The Federation falling apart would benefit your side. At least until the Empire falls, there will be a grace period.”
It was not that they would go unpunished. They were simply being given time. Just as Renavik's citizens did not fully know what had happened at the banquet, the Grand Duke and the hardliners' leadership did not want the Federation to split apart yet. They had chosen to secure their cooperation by holding their lives hostage.
A cornered rat bites the cat.
“Will you spare even the paladins of the Theocracy?”
Philip curled his lips as though mocking Kyle.
“If necessary.”
“You slaughtered my knights without mercy.”
“They weren't knights of the Federation. They were knights of the Empire. They weren't men who swore loyalty to you either.”
“So is that why you came? To mock me? Or to show some cheap mercy?”
For the first time, Philip looked up at Kyle. The man who had fallen from king of a nation to a prisoner wore an expression beyond description.
His eyes held a jumble of emotions, anger, sorrow, and regret. It was impossible to guess what he was thinking. Yet Kyle knew one thing. Philip was close to resignation.
He resembled Kyle from four years ago, wandering like a corpse that could not die after losing everything.
“I'm sorry, but your friends have already come by several times. There was hardly any interrogation to speak of.”
Philip muttered in a fading voice.
“I've already told them everything I know, so unfortunately, I have nothing else to tell you.”
“No. You do.”
“...What?”
“I came to hear the full story from your own mouth, not someone else's.”
Kyle kicked a bucket of water nearby toward Philip. Philip stared at it for a moment, then gave a short laugh.
“Are you threatening me now?”
“You could call it that.”
“You're saying you'll torture me?”
“Do you think I can't?”
Kyle glared at Philip with a cold, settled gaze. Philip's shoulders flinched for the briefest moment.
“I won't ask twice. Tell me everything you know, from why a wyvern knight was at your side to when the Empire began infiltrating Russel so deeply.”
Philip's dry fingers twitched. It did not last long. After hesitating, he lifted the bucket before him to his lips.
“Ha... The first time is always hard. The second is easy.”
“...”
“It began over several hundred years ago. Our Merkan Dynasty...”
After drinking for a while to ease his thirst, Philip slowly began to speak. Following Kyle's command, he searched through his hazy memories and continued.
The relationship between Russel and the Empire stretched back well over several hundred years. A wyvern knight had disguised himself as a royal knight before rising to Commander within a few years. Even before that, countless Imperial knights and spies had been scattered throughout the Kingdom of Russel. Its geography had made it inevitable.
“Unlike the others, trade with the Empire was our main source of income. The Federation's high nobles pretended to want to destroy the Empire, but they accepted goods and culture from Archandia without hesitation. They even preferred them over goods from the south or north.”
Philip twisted his lips again. His voice held contempt and mockery for every noble in the Federation.
“When did the Imperial knights first enter?”
“Two hundred years ago. No... Three hundred years ago. More than half of Russel's Royal Knights have always been from the Empire. Even our reputation for having weak military strength was a kind of disguise, because that was what the Emperor wanted. Tiberon, whom you killed, was originally a high-ranking knight of the Celestial Knights, though he had returned his Wyvern to conceal his identity.”
“Is Selaine the same?”
“No. Not to our extent. They don't directly share a border with the Empire like Russel does, and they lie deep in the Federation's rear. Still, Archandia's culture has greatly influenced them. There were countless artists who received direct or indirect support from the Imperial family.”
After that, Philip faithfully answered Kyle's questions and laid out everything he knew. Most of it fell within Kyle's expectations, so he was not surprised.
At the end, Kyle asked one question.
“Do you know the secret of Dawn, the Emperor's sword?”
“Dawn...? You mean that treasured sword passed down through the Imperial family, along with Prisia's Dragon Heart? Why do you ask?”
Philip looked at Kyle with a puzzled expression. Kyle silently turned his gaze toward a Magic Stone Lamp hanging on the wall. As expected, Philip did not seem to know the First Emperor's secret.
Of course. They would not entrust that level of secrecy to a disposable chess piece.
“May I ask one last thing?”
“Go on.”
“Are you... an Ash Knight? No, are you truly the Blue Wolf of the lost north?”
As though Philip had prepared that question long ago, he lifted his head. The resignation in his eyes flared like fire as he met Kyle's gaze directly. There was no fear or terror in his eyes, only doubt.
“Yes.”
Kyle did not deny it.
“I am Kyle Baldrick.”
“Ah...”
“Are you certain now?”
Philip did not answer right away. He only smiled blankly, as though he had lost his mind. He bent over, almost curling himself up on the floor, and let out a choked sound.
“So that was it. That's why... Even when you rejected my offer back then...”
“...”
“Ha ha ha! From your perspective, it must have been absurd. How did it feel? When we strutted before you while heading toward a losing battle?”
“...”
“Were we laughable? Pathetic? Or did you simply pity us? Like moths rushing into flames, unaware they were doomed?”
“If you have any last words, say them.”
“Am I... going to die?”
Philip, sprawled before Kyle, slowly raised his head. His eyes looked as though they were crying, but his mouth was smiling.
“I am, right? There is no reason to keep me alive.”
His face twisted with anguish.
“But what was I supposed to do! I... I had no choice either!”
“...”
“Imperial knights were around me from the day I was born. Russel's Royal Knights have been reduced to the Emperor's tools for hundreds of years. Wherever I went, the Emperor's eyes followed. What choices was I ever given? To hang myself and die? Or to live as the Emperor's puppet?”
“...”
“What guilt could a mere lackey of the Emperor possibly bear?”
Shing.
Philip's scream of despair rang out. Amid it came the clear metallic sound of a sword leaving its sheath.
“This can't be happening. This can't be.”
“...”
“I...!”
The moment Kyle raised his sword, Philip struggled, rattling the chains around his limbs. Philip's eyes suddenly turned red. The veins in the whites of his eyes burst all at once, and everything except his pupils turned crimson. Philip shuddered and let his upper body droop.
“I... am...”
“...”
“Cough, cough! Hrk, urgh...”
Philip gasped harshly, then vomited blood through his lips. Bright red blood rose from his throat and spread thickly across the wine cellar floor. His ragged breathing stopped completely.
Then.
“This is the first time we have faced each other, Blue Wolf.”
He raised his upper body again. His blood-soaked lips curved into a gentle smile. The whites of his eyes were still red, and his unwashed body still looked ruined from his imprisonment.
Everything was the same.
Yet the feeling he gave off was entirely different.
Kyle instinctively stepped back. Prisia's mana spun fiercely through his entire body. In the suffocating silence, something wearing Philip's face stared directly at Kyle and murmured lowly.
“No, Prisia.”
Footnotes:
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