I Don’t Need a Guillotine for My Revolution

Chapter 66: Directory Government - Concealed Discourse

We set out for the capital, Lumiere, with Hassan and Shandra.

It was late at night.

The group had lit campfires around the area and sat as I talked to Hassan, their bureaucrat.

"So you're saying you've already taken control of about half of the Iberian Peninsula?"

Hassan has a calm and serious personality, befitting his position.

Despite his different skin color, his stylish beard and slight forehead wrinkles suggested he was in his 40s.

"That is correct, Marquis. Our brothers are already fighting united under King Kroxx."

Hassan didn't say it outright, but it couldn't be easy to stand against the port of Porto, which is supported by the Abyss Corporation, and the barbarian tribes.

Food shortages must be the biggest problem for barbarian tribes, especially given their chronic issue of relying on hunting and looting, because they lack proper ports and trade routes.

Still, if barbarian tribes, amounting to half of the Iberian Peninsula, are following him, it's clear that Kroxx has proven his ability.Judging by the way these two treated Kroxx, he seems to have their respect as well.

"Hyaaah!"

I heard a shout and the sound of a sword cutting through the wind, and I turned my head.

Gaston's greatsword sliced through the air, and Shandra, who jumped back to avoid it, leaped forward again as soon as she landed.

The blades of the curved swords, held in both of Shandra's hands, crescent-moon shaped, glinted in the light of the campfire.

Gaston struck with force, but Shandra used that force to jump up, somersaulting and swinging her swords in succession.

It's a fast and light dual-wielding style, completely different from the way Francia's knights fight.

With that kind of skill, she could easily overwhelm one or two ordinary knights.

"Haap!"

"Uwaaat-!"

But Gaston was no ordinary knight, and Shandra, who was somersaulting with every swing of his sword, was startled and parried Gaston's sword, only to be flung far away.

She's quite good, twisting her body in mid-air to land.

That aside, I remembered the expression Kroxx used and asked.

"Which of King Kroxx's confidants is this warrior named Shandra?"

"The seventh, Marquis."

Seventh confidant. She is the seventh most skilled of Kroxx's subordinates.

As I was thinking that, Hassan added.

"I am the second, Marquis."

...?

I glanced at Hassan.

He doesn't look trained in any way... Ah.

"Being a confidant of King Kroxx is not limited to warriors?"

"That is correct, Marquis. The King values not only strength but also knowledge and other talents."

I discarded all my previous perceptions of barbarians based on Hassan's answer.

Barbarians are perceived as being close to beasts and only worshipping strength.

Either we were completely wrong, or if we were right, it's irrelevant to the new kingdom Kroxx has established.

Ah, but I'm curious about that.

"Then, among your warriors, how strong is Shandra?"

"Fourth, Marquis."

I roughly gauged the difference in skill between Gaston and Shandra and asked.

"What is the difference in strength between the confidants and King Kroxx?"

Hassan smiled deeply.

"Four of them, including Shandra, would have to attack simultaneously to barely stand a chance against the King. King Kroxx values wisdom as well as strength, but traditionally, only the strong can claim to be the leader of the orcs."

His face showed respect and trust.

"That's impressive."

It might be an exaggeration, but Kroxx's strength might be comparable to that of the Blue Knight.

The clergy and noble-born council members will be strongly opposed to them, but the more I learn about them, the more I think it's better to have friendly relations.

Besides their strength, if they really take over the Iberian Peninsula, Porto will also fall into their hands. So for Christine's sake, we need to build a good relationship with them to maintain the Aquitaine Company's trade routes.

Above all, they are enemies of the Abyss Corporation, and the Holy Theocracy is unlikely to interact with these heretics, so once we become trading partners, we can have a fairly close relationship.

"The more I hear about you, the more interested I become. I hope we can get a good result from this negotiation, if possible."

Hassan smiled slightly and bowed to me.

"King Kroxx was pleased that the person in charge from Francia was you, Marquis, and I think I understand why."

Kroxx said that? That's a little unexpected.

"Our brothers are well aware of the prejudices that human nations have against us. So, we did not expect to meet someone like you, Marquis."

Indeed, Kroxx seemed to know quite a bit about human nations, and Hassan, as a human bureaucrat, would know even more.

Perhaps Kroxx didn't expect much from peace and trade with Francia, but rather tried to probe Francia's intentions in advance while carrying out the war to unify the Iberian Peninsula.

"I hope it's not rude, but just as you find us curious, so do we. You are so different from the knights of Francia we knew. Perhaps our god has prepared you, Marquis, for our brothers."

It's kind of funny to hear a heretic who doesn't believe in the God of Light say this.

"I've already experienced having my beliefs overturned."

"For someone like you, Marquis, to have such an experience, it must have been quite something."

I just smirked at him.

Having your head chopped off by the guillotine after a revolution is certainly not ordinary.

I learned very well how flimsy my values and prejudices were.

"Uwaaaat!"

I thought the scream was close, and Shandra, who had been flung into the air, fell a little beside us.

"Ooooh..."

Seeing Shandra, who had dropped both her swords, clutching her waist and writhing on the ground, I smiled at Gaston.

"It seems the match is over."

Gaston, slightly out of breath, approached me, bowed, and extended his hand to Shandra.

"That was a good match."

Shandra, who had been wriggling, took Gaston's hand, stood up, and then shouted at Hassan.

"Brother, I like this man!"

Gaston froze with his eyes wide open, and Hassan frowned and put his hand on his forehead.

...Wait, brother? Not father?

I glanced at Shandra. She looks about the same age as me or Gaston.

"I apologize, Marquis. That child is ignorant of Francia's etiquette..."

"No, that's fine. I'm sorry, Hassan, but your age..."

"...Twenty-six, Marquis."

Twenty-six with that face? Am I supposed to believe this?

He looks like he's at least in his mid-30s, no matter how you look at it.

Seeing my expression, Shandra burst into laughter. Hassan, as if used to it, sighed with a half-resigned look and answered.

"It's twenty-six, Marquis. You don't have to look at me with such pity."

-

The capital of the Republic of Francia, Lumiere.

The soft light of candles surrounding the statues illuminated the dark chapel under the stained glass, which was unlit by the setting sun.

The Countess of Aquitaine, Christine Aquitaine, entered the chapel with elegant and slow steps.

Wearing a black dress reminiscent of mourning clothes and with long black hair flowing down, she walked past the empty chairs of the chapel.

As her steps entered the darkness that the faint light of the candles could not reach, she seemed to blend into the shadows.

At least, that's how Bishop Arnaud Richelieu, standing on the preacher's podium, felt as he watched her.

Reaching the front of the preacher's podium where he stood, the lady closest to darkness lifted the hem of her dress and bowed.

"Christine Aquitaine, Countess of Aquitaine, owner of the company, and member of the Central Party of the National Assembly, greets the esteemed Bishop Arnaud Richelieu."

"Arnaud Richelieu, a humble servant of God, greets you, Countess Aquitaine."

Having received his greeting, Christine raised her head and slowly opened her eyes.

The Countess of Aquitaine's eyes were said to be lifeless, like a dead person's abyss, but Bishop Richelieu received a completely different impression upon meeting her gaze.

The eyes, which at first glance seemed cold, naturally contained a brilliance that only humans of a very dangerous kind can possess.

Is this the kind of eyes a young woman of only 22 can have?

Arnaud Richelieu inwardly shuddered and offered her a seat.

"It may not compare to the reception room of a noble, but if the chairs of the chapel are acceptable, would you please sit?"

"Thank you for your consideration, Bishop."

Christine naturally unfolded a black fan, held it to cover her mouth, and sat down on a chapel chair.

Bishop Richelieu slowly descended from the podium and sat down next to her.

"So, what brings you to seek an audience with this humble servant of God?"

Christine lightly fluttered her fan and answered calmly.

"It has been quite some time since I came to the capital, but I was disappointed that I could not have the opportunity to meet the Bishop, whom I have always respected, as he was in seclusion. However, recently, the chaos in the capital has subsided, and the Bishop has returned to the fold of the faithful, so I, as a believer, sought to meet you."

Richelieu swallowed hard.

It was a perfectly innocuous statement, but depending on how it was heard, it could sound like an accusation that he didn't care for the faithful during the chaos of the capital and only showed up now.

"...I see. I did not know that Countess Aquitaine was so devout."

"Even if I don't look it, the Aquitaine Company, with the help of Marquis Lafayette and the Saintess, has done much charity work. It is only natural to be interested in the Bishop, who has gained high renown by comforting the citizens of the capital."

Lafayette and the Saintess.

Richelieu narrowed his eyes slightly at the deliberate mention, and then, with a light sigh, opened his mouth.

"Countess Aquitaine, this humble servant of God is tired of aristocratic speech."

Still, Christine, without changing her expression, fluttered her fan.

"I have served the old regime for too long, but that regime has fallen. Tell me what you want."

"It's nothing, Bishop. It seems you are busy because the capital has changed while you were in seclusion, so I thought I could offer you a little help, if you allow."

Christine spoke casually as if it were no big deal.

Richelieu narrowed his eyes to gauge her intentions, but he could read nothing from Christine's submerged black eyes.

Richelieu let out a small sigh.

"I appreciate the offer, Countess Aquitaine, but I will gratefully accept only your kindness."

The moment he felt Christine's face become a little languid, she snapped her fan shut with a 'clack' sound.

"It seems, Bishop, that you have some misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding?"

Richelieu chuckled hollowly, and Christine smiled back.

"Bishop. We are simply working for this country in the National Assembly."

Richelieu flinched, but then answered softly.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Countess Aquitaine. Why would I, a humble servant of God, care about you and the National Assembly or have a misunderstanding?"

Christine smiled languidly.

It's not a rough threat, nor is it many words to mislead him.

Just by facing the brilliant light in those black eyes that seemed to draw him in, Richelieu felt a deep fatigue.

Christine watched him for a long time, leisurely, and then spoke.

"While you were in seclusion, those who received help from you had to starve or take up arms themselves and join the ranks of the revolution. But even now that you have come out of seclusion, you are not paying attention to them. Rather..."

"Enough."

Richelieu's face crumpled.

He didn't know how much this woman knew, but the fact that she didn't even try to hide that she was monitoring his activities was gnawing at his patience.

"Do you want me to join the National Assembly?"

"We have already resolved the misunderstandings between the believers in the west and the National Assembly and lifted the suppression order on the church. If the Bishop would join us-"

"I have no intention of doing so."

Despite her persuasion being rejected, Christine only smiled faintly, and Richelieu's patience had reached its limit.

"I have no desire to become one of your Central Party's puppets."

"Puppets, for a devout person to say-"

"No? The National Assembly is unable to function properly because it is leashed by the plutocracy you wield."

"As a daugther of Francia, I only provided the help that the state and government needed."

"I hardly think that's something someone should say when they're engaged to a man who disregarded Francia's laws and carried out a massacre in the city center."

For the first time, the smile fixed on Christine's face like a mask vanished.

Seeing her expression, Richelieu felt a pang of guilt and offered an excuse.

"I know about the injustice you suffered, and I regret it. But even so, what Marquis Lafayette did is no different from the actions of those men. Ultimately, he simply used fear to control the National Assembly and cripple it."

Richelieu expected Christine to defend Lafayette. He anticipated a superficial argument—that there's a difference between indiscriminate terrorism against civilians and killing only the lawmakers and their accomplices who committed the crime.

But Richelieu was left speechless.

"In the Eastern Empire, there's a saying: kill one to make a hundred tremble. Marquis Lafayette repaid terror with terror, but the result is that no one in the National Assembly can even contemplate terrorism."

"Are you saying that the ends justify the means?"

"No, Bishop. But I am saying that it's unrealistic to demand justice solely from the other side when justice isn't functioning properly in a newly forming society. It's akin to trusting someone who is good and upright, but ultimately unreliable."

After speaking, Christine looked intently at Richelieu and asked,

"...Don't you agree, Bishop?"

Bishop Richelieu flinched.

To criticize Marquis Lafayette's morality in front of her, the work he was preparing could not be called moral either.

While a cold sweat ran down Richelieu's spine, Christine tilted her head slightly and opened her mouth.

"If you give up on correcting it and break the order, only eternal chaos will remain."

Richelieu narrowed his eyes.

"It is a saying of someone in the National Assembly. The chaos without justice and order was long, and enough blood has been shed. Now is a transitional period at the end of it, where everything is being rebuilt."

How much does this woman know?

"It's getting late. I hope there will be an opportunity to receive teachings from the Bishop without misunderstanding in a better atmosphere."

Bishop Richelieu could only nod without answering.

Richelieu only turned his head to look back at Christine after the sound of her shoes clicking faded away.

As she slowly walked away, Christine stopped when she entered the darkness beyond the candlelight, turned her head, and looked at Richelieu.

Her expression was hidden in the darkness, but Richelieu almost jumped back in fright when he met her eyes, which shone brilliantly even there.

Christine turned around again without a word and left.

But Richelieu could not forget her gaze.

It was extremely cold, as if judging whether he should live or die.