Re:Zero - Starting Life in Another World as a Skeleton

Chapter 241 241: The House of Pass-Anger

The "Dual-Kings Championship" in the Iron Fortress Territory spread like a

wildfire, scorching every corner of the Empire.

The notices posted on the bulletin boards, written in the simplest language

imaginable, possessed a magnetic pull stronger than any King's call to arms.

Chess and Gomoku—two board games that most had never heard of—came with a

shimmering, golden champion's prize: ten gold coins.

Countless self-proclaimed masters of strategy sat in taverns, slamming their

fists on tables and boasting about how they once dominated the Courtier's Gambit

circles in the old kingdoms. They swarmed the regional branches of The Sunflower

Merchant Guild, shelling out a few copper coins for the crude wooden sets,

spending their nights obsessively studying the thin instruction pamphlets.

The very next day, these men gathered their savings and set out toward the Iron

Fortress with heads held high. They were convinced they were the "Chosen King"

of the board, and the ten gold coins were already as good as in their pockets.

Pete was one such man.

He had spent his life immersed in the Elven Astrolabe Chess. By relying on that

singular talent, he had managed to squirrel away a tidy sum of gold back in the

lawless days of the continent. Thanks to that coin, Pete lived a comfortable

enough life today.

Now, an opportunity to make his name echo across the Empire stood before him.

Pete tilted his head back, draining the last drop of spicy Dwarven ale from his

waterskin. The fiery liquid hit the back of his throat, prompting a long,

satisfied sigh.

"Hah! Giddy up!"

He snapped the reins, and his stubborn old mare reluctantly increased her pace.

To reach the capital as quickly as possible, Pete had even splurged an entire

silver coin to utilize the Empire's Rapid Official Highway.

The road was a marvel of engineering—smooth enough to roll an egg across without

it cracking. Along the way, at precise intervals, one could see the Skeleton

Knights of the Silent Extinction Legion and the Fearless Vanguard standing

sentry, providing a sense of absolute security.

Seeing the towering obsidian walls of the Iron Fortress on the horizon, Pete's

spirits soared. He had already planned his victory lap: the moment he held those

ten gold coins, he was heading straight to The Succubus's Dream to order the

"Imperial Grandeur" package.

Just then, his progress was halted. The road ahead was blocked.

Three knights from the Fearless Vanguard, mounted on their terrifying skeletal

warhorses, stood across the center of the thoroughfare. Beside them, a dozen

standard Skeleton Knights were weaving through a long queue of stalled carriages

and wagons.

Anyone attempting to pull a U-turn was promptly "escorted" back into line by a

pair of skeletons flanking them like jailers.

"What in the Blazes is this?"

Pete clicked his tongue in annoyance, stretching his neck to see the front of

the line. Directly ahead of him was a luxury carriage with heavy silk curtains.

Because of the carriage's bulk, Pete could only partially see a Skeleton Knight

approach the driver, holding a strange, glowing rod.

The knight held the rod to the driver's mouth, gesturing for him to blow. The

driver looked puzzled but complied, letting out a long breath. The rod didn't

react. The Skeleton Knight nodded and gave a crisp signal to pass.

But just as the carriage prepared to move, a young apprentice sitting next to

the driver spoke up.

"Officer! Sir! May I try too? I've been dying to see how the Arcane Legion's new

'Alchemical Breath-Analyzer' works!"

the Skeleton Knight seemed to pause, then handed the rod to the boy. The

apprentice took it excitedly, took a quick swig from a hidden flask, drew a deep

breath, and blew with all his might.

A second later, the crystal at the tip of the rod flared with a violent,

blinding red light.

"Whoa!" the boy gasped. "It actually lit up! Incredible!"

The driver leaned over to look, and the two of them marveled at the glowing

stick as if it were a legendary relic. The Skeleton Knight reclaimed the device

and, expressionless, signaled for them to move on.

The carriage rolled through the gates.

Pete, watching from his "blind spot" in the queue, was utterly bewildered. The

stick goes in, it turns red, and then they get a free pass? What kind of logic

is that? Before he could finish the thought, it was his turn.

A Skeleton Knight walked up to his horse, extending the rod. "Exhale."

Pete took the rod and blew. The crystal instantly erupted into a red glow even

more intense than the apprentice's. But Pete didn't panic. He had just seen the

carriage in front do the same thing and pass through.

However, in the next micro-second, the dozen patrolling Skeleton Knights

surrounded him in a synchronized clatter of armor. The soulfire in their sockets

locked onto him with predatory focus.

The lead knight raised a gauntleted hand, pointing toward the side of the road.

"Dismount. Proceed to the detention area."

Pete froze. "For what reason?!"

"Intoxication," the knight vibrated. "Imperial Security Code, Volume Three,

Article Seventeen: The operation of any vehicular or mounted transport while

under the influence of alcohol is strictly prohibited."

Pete's brow furrowed into a knot. "When was this decreed? I've never heard of

such a thing!"

"Promulgated on the day of the Empire's founding. Posted on every public board.

You failed to review the laws." The knight's tone carried a hint of mechanical

impatience. "Dismount. Do not obstruct the citizens behind you."

The fire of indignation flared in Pete's chest. "Then explain this! Why was the

carriage in front allowed through? The light from his wagon was redder than a

dragon's heart!"

He pointed a shaking finger at the carriage disappearing into the city. The

Skeleton Knight tilted his skull toward the gate, then looked back at Pete.

"If you sat in that position, you could pass too."

Pete was struck dumb.

In the Evernight Empire of today, the Sovereign was wise, the Seven Generals

were diligent, and the laws were supposed to be absolute. He had believed this

was an era of unprecedented clarity and justice.

And yet, here at the very gates of the Capital, he had witnessed naked,

broad-daylight corruption!

Just how powerful must one be to have even the iron-faced Fearless Vanguard look

the other way?

Pete felt his heart bleeding for his lost ideals. In a trembling whisper, he

asked, "What... what manner of title is that? What 'position' allows such a

thing?"

The Skeleton Knight seemed to contemplate how to explain a basic logistical

concept to the confused old man.

"The Pass-Anger," the knight stated. (Note: He meant 'Passenger.')

Pete's brain felt like it had been struck by lightning.

The House of Pass-Anger!

He had heard rumors from the old Human Kingdom days of ancient, shadowy

lineages—families so entrenched in power that they could sway the succession

of kings. He never imagined that such a cancer would persist under the Great

Sovereign! From the looks of it, the influence of the Pass-Angers was even

greater than the nobility of old!

"The... House of Pass-Anger..." Pete murmured, his world-view crumbling into

dust.

The Skeleton Knight watched the old man's soul-shattered expression with

confusion. "What house? I told you to dismount. Wait by the curb until the fumes

dissipate, or find a sober citizen to ride your mare in for you."

Pete tumbled from his saddle, moving with a frantic speed that defied his age.

He stood by the road, watching the expressionless skeletons, his heart filled

with a bitter, cold desolation. He lamented that even this "glorious" Empire had

such deep, dark shadows.

"The House of Pass-Anger... what a long, reaching hand they have!"

He shook his head and trudged toward the detention area, where a few other

unlucky souls were already waiting. There was a Dwarven blacksmith, an Orc

hunter, and a human who looked like a mercenary.

Pete sat down with a heavy sigh. "Brothers, don't look so grim. We didn't lose

to the law; we lost to our bloodlines."

The Dwarf, already irritable because he was being kept from his ale, snapped,

"What are you rambling about, pops? We got caught drunk-riding. We take the

fine. What's blood got to do with it?"

Pete looked at them with the pitying gaze of a man who knew too much. He lowered

his voice. "Didn't you see? Right ahead of us, a carriage—the boy blew a light

so red it was practically purple! And what happened? They let them right in! No

questions asked!"

"Why?" the Orc asked, scratching his head.

"Because they are members of the Pass-Anger clan!"

"The Pass-Angers?" The group exchanged bewildered glances.

"Exactly!" Pete slapped his thigh. "I asked the knight myself. He admitted it!

He said as long as you're a Pass-Anger, you can be as drunk as a sailor and

they'll practically applaud you through the gates!"

The group sat in stunned silence. "Is that true? The Empire has a family like

that? And what kind of weird name is 'Pass-Anger' anyway?"

"It is the absolute truth!" Pete declared with righteous fire. "The House of

Pass-Anger is the rot at the heart of our Empire! We weren't stopped today

because we drank; we were stopped because we weren't born with the right name!"

His impassioned speech successfully ignited the fury in the hearts of his fellow

detainees.

"Dammit! That's not right!" "We can't let this stand! we have to report this to

the Sovereign!" "Yeah! Down with the Pass-Angers!"

And so, at the gates of the Iron Fortress, a ragtag group known as the

"Anti-Pass-Anger League" was formed in a state of total, utter confusion.

☆☆☆

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