novelraw Chapter 175 : Chapter 175
Chapter 175 : Chapter 175
Chapter 175: Inquisition (2)
Clip-clop, clip-clop, and.
The hoofbeats echoed noisily.
Horses galloped, their reddish-brown manes streaming. They pulled a lavishly adorned carriage, cutting across a moonlit forest path.
"Inconvenient."
Inside the carriage, Grand Duke Marchand opened his mouth.
Even if the supply of Magestone vehicles had become smooth, the imperial frontier lacked proper roads. To conduct business in remote regions, one had no choice but to use a carriage. A mode of transportation that constantly jolted, where the coachman's shouts tickled one's ears, and which occasionally had to stop so the horses could rest. Truly inconvenient, and simultaneously—
"I like it."
Of course. Quite pleasing, actually.
Thinking thus, Grand Duke Marchand smiled.
"Do you not agree?"
"Of course, Your Grace."
A large-framed knight spoke.
Across from Grand Duke Marchand sat a knight clad in iron armor. Because he wore a helmet, his expression could not be discerned, but deep scar marks showed through the gaps. They resembled crumpled eye wrinkles.
"You may think otherwise, but—"
Dauane, a western border city of the Holy Numeros Empire.
Grand Duke Marchand was departing from there.
"The empire these days is too bustling. There is no such thing as order, I tell you. It is because development is too rapid. Horseless carriages traverse the capital, and teleportation gates are being erected everywhere. And what of magical techniques? Even commoners receive the benefits of magic."
Tsk, and.
Grand Duke Marchand clicked his tongue.
"It is lamentable."
"I agree."
"About what?"
"Pardon?"
"I asked what you agree with."
You cannot possibly fathom my thoughts, and.
Grand Duke Marchand whispered. With his eyes narrowed thin.
"I—"
"No need to concern yourself."
Grand Duke Marchand waved his hand dismissively.
"Your intellect matters not a whit. I did not keep you by my side because I needed a political ally. I merely required a knight skilled with weapons."
That is sufficient.
Grand Duke Marchand thought thus.
The man sitting across from him was a strong knight. Though dull-witted, if one discussed martial prowess alone, he would be acceptable even in the Imperial Special Forces. Political allies, after all, were already more than abundant—
"Your Grace, I have something I wish to ask."
Suddenly, the large-framed knight spoke.
Grand Duke Marchand's brow furrowed. His contemplation had been interrupted.
"Speak."
"The allies Your Grace has been associating with recently—"
They give me an unpleasant feeling somehow, and.
The large-framed knight muttered, while,
"What do you mean?"
"Pardon?"
"I asked what you find unpleasant."
Grand Duke Marchand pressed in a subdued voice.
A brief silence. It did not take long for Grand Duke Marchand to continue. After exhaling a quiet sigh,
"You cannot—"
Fathom my thoughts, and.
Just as he was about to mutter,
"There is no need to concern yourself."
Through the gap in the helmet worn by the large-framed knight,
The voice of a woman came from within.
"I can understand perfectly well."
Squelch, and.
The sound of flesh tearing.
"What, what in the—"
Grand Duke Marchand's eyes widened.
He scrambled to his feet and retreated. He thought perhaps the knight sitting before him had been a paper doll.
"Stop! Stop the carriage!"
And for good reason—the large-framed knight's body, which had been swollen with muscle, began splitting in half. The thick iron armor bent as if handling cardboard, and blood flowed abundantly, soaking the carriage floor. Using the scar etched on the knight's face as a foothold, the woman who emerged from inside the body as if shedding a cocoon—
"It has been a while, Grand Duke."
Iris René von Orléans.
Though she wrapped her body in a black robe, though she concealed her expression with a black veil,
Though she was covered in stringy flesh and viscous blood,
She could still be recognized.
"I received your help previously."
The pale pink eyes shining from beyond the veil.
How could one fail to recognize that gaze? It belonged to the young fox who fawned at the Emperor's side.
"Thanks to you, I was able to rally the nobles who attended the White Night Ball. I also stopped the rebels who intended to invade the capital without casualties. All because the Grand Duke provided assistance. I wish to express my sincere gratitude."
"Explain, Iris!"
Grand Duke Marchand shouted.
Forcing strength into his trembling lips.
"It is a Hallucination! It must be. Teleporting from inside a body is impossible. What trick are you playing?"
"My, this is not a Hallucination."
Iris made a laughing sound.
From the midst of the knight's bisected body sprawled out, sitting in a demure posture,
"Moreover—"
Iris removed her veil.
Then, instead of the consistently composed air she had maintained, an expression soft enough to convey benevolence was revealed.
"I should be the one questioning the Grand Duke."
Scritch, and.
The sound of a match scraping across its striking surface.
Iris lit a cigarette. She exhaled smoke directly toward Grand Duke Marchand.
"What trick were you playing?"
Grand Duke Marchand furrowed his brow.
Beyond the acrid tobacco smoke spreading out, he glared at the smiling Iris.
"I borrowed the Grand Duke's hand to stop the rebels, yet the Grand Duke must not be connected with the forces supporting the rebels. His Majesty would be disappointed. Was there perhaps some unavoidable circumstance?"
But that lasted only a moment.
The expression bearing murderous intent scattered, and Grand Duke Marchand's complexion turned deathly pale. Indescribable shock had assailed him.
"You need not answer. I shall obtain the answer myself."
Above Iris, who rose soundlessly,
A halo spread open, emitting radiance. Gazing at it, Grand Duke Marchard lost his senses. Surely a halo must be the mark of a Saintess—according to legend, it certainly should be.
"I must rightfully obtain the answer—"
Iris's palm reached out.
Then it directly enveloped Grand Duke Marchand's face.
Why? Why did a halo unfold above Iris's head?
Grand Duke Marchand wondered thus.
"As a representative of the Main Gods, or a vanguard of the Pantheon."
That was his last question.
* * *
Afternoon, the Brilliant Sun Royal Palace in the capital Naflansee.
Abel quickened his pace. He had just arrived, summoned by the Emperor. While Abel's footsteps inscribed themselves in the deserted corridor,
"Well, well, we meet again."
A man's voice suddenly rang out.
Gerhard von Farenheit. Demian's father stood with his arms crossed. Leaning his back against a marble pillar.
"Have you been well, Professor Argento?"
I sensed it the moment I crossed swords with you, and.
Gerhard spoke with a chuckle.
"That we would meet again someday. Though I did not expect to face you so soon—"
"I feel the same."
Abel gave a slight bow.
Then he stepped forward. There was no time to delay. The fact that the Emperor had personally summoned him meant preparations to confront the Parousia Sect in earnest were complete.
"My boy should have left the capital by now. Thanks to you. That Demian could depart on his pilgrimage in fine form—"
"Demian was already a complete student. I merely offered a few pieces of advice."
"My word! How humble you are!"
Gwahaha, and.
While Gerhard burst into hearty laughter,
'War must not be waged.'
Abel hardened his expression and thought.
The scale of the Parousia Sect could not yet be determined, but the direction of revealing them to the masses must be avoided. Since the era when the previous Emperor reigned, the empire had waged too many wars. When one points a blade outward, blades are pointed inward in turn. The more conflicts increased, the weaker the imperial authority would become.
Unlike the previous Emperor, numerous factions threatened the current Emperor, Luine Numeros.
"I am curious, though."
Gerhard spoke in a leisurely tone.
"From what I hear, the empire's power brokers have been summoned alongside us. Zylon, Sharma, and Orléans—"
Though laughter permeated his voice,
Gerhard's gaze following Abel had been honed sharp.
"All are people whose positions deserve reverence. So then—"
Allow me to ask with courtesy,
Should I perhaps revere you as well?
Gerhard questioned thus. It was a question posed to glimpse Abel's inner thoughts.
"Please do not."
Abel swept back his hair.
Understanding the intent contained in Gerhard's question was not difficult. Moreover, Abel could guess why Gerhard had been summoned. Not only the head of House Farenheit but all the knights belonging to the house were entirely loyal to the Emperor.
"However, I regret informing you so quickly."
Abel looked back at Gerhard.
Beyond such an Abel, tall iron doors were opening.
Blackout of Blade—the interrogation chamber prepared for the Emperor to lead and press criminals. Its interior began revealing itself through the gap in the iron doors.
"Though you seem to believe I could not possibly be the Sword Saint—"
A vast space constructed in a circular shape.
It resembled not merely an interrogation chamber but an elaborate theater.
And for good reason—seats for distinguished guests were arranged high on the walls like audience seating, and the pillar where criminals were bound rose up in the center of Blackout of Blade. As if a device composing a stage, oppressive in form rather than practical.
With such Blackout of Blade at his back, Abel spoke.
"I am the Sword Saint."
"That makes no sense."
Gerhard's expression turned blank.
He extended his index finger to point at Abel.
"You are just human. The Sword Saint I saw was a werewolf, I tell you. You should at least be that much. Half monster and half human, or even if a Golem were the Sword Saint, that would be quite impressive. In any case, you should transcend the category of human to be the Sword Saint—"
"A human can also become the Sword Saint."
Abel scratched the back of his neck and muttered.
With his gaze lowered, he seemed embarrassed. But that must be an illusion. Thinking thus, Gerhard raised the corners of his mouth.
Is that so? The Sword Saint? He was the Sword Saint? and.
Just as Gerhard was thinking with a satisfied smile,
"I have received the command and come to greet Your Majesty."
Abel moved forward.
Toward the center of Blackout of Blade.
"Abel Argento, shadow of His Holiness the Pope, and—"
The pillar where the criminal was bound.
Looking up at those who looked down upon it, he spoke, then,
"The Sword Saint granted the title of the Margin."
He gazed at the criminal bound to the pillar.
"I shall greet you with propriety."
An old man stripped bare and covered in blood.
Grand Duke Marchand was bound to the pillar.
Looking at such a Grand Duke Marchand, Abel asked.
"What assistance may I provide?"