Water Magician

Vol 3. Chapter 680: Bonus Part: Ryo and Abel’s Journey Home (7)

0680 Visit to the Grand Duchy of Atinjo V

Clang.

Lukiya sharply knocked back Zuruma’s strike.

“You should still be blind and your hearing should still be wrecked, and yet you’re enduring even this blow.”

At Zuruma’s astonished words, Lukiya gave no reply.

His hearing still had not recovered from the trap’s thunderous blast.

His sight had been taken by the flash, and his hearing sealed by the roaring detonation.

And yet even so, Lukiya kept defending against Zuruma’s sword.

“As expected.”

Zuruma’s straightforward praise.

Though they had ended up on opposite sides, they were men who had once honed one another together in their clan’s village.

No one knew better than Zuruma how capable Lukiya was.

Which was precisely why...

“Surrender, Lukiya.”

He raised his voice and called on him to surrender.

“You’re joking, Zuruma.”

It seemed Lukiya’s ears were gradually recovering as well.

“You were soft-hearted even back then. Hasn’t changed even now, has it?”

Lukiya answered with his mouth twisted in a crooked line.

The content of his words was mocking, but his tone was not.

They had both reached middle age, and neither had lost his strength. There was pleasure in seeing a former rival still standing at such a level, and at the same time bitterness in having such a troublesome opponent standing as an enemy.

And more than that, Lukiya could not help but admire what Zuruma had done on a completely different level from mere individual combat—preparing a trap like this, then actually stopping their infiltration with the forces he himself had raised.

Even so...

“Surrender is impossible.”

“Look around you, Lukiya. More than half the men you led in here are already down.”

“The flash still has me blind.”

“You’re making jokes at a time like this?”

Zuruma frowned.

But in that instant, a sense of wrongness ran through his mind.

Lukiya had been raised from youth to become a commander later.

He was highly capable not only in individual combat, but in command as well.

And high command ability did not simply mean carrying out an operation perfectly.

It meant being able to command in a way that kept losses to a minimum.

He was not the sort to let his men die for nothing.

And yet why would he not surrender?

No, more than that—why was he not retreating?

Why... was he staying here? Drawing Zuruma and the others in...

A diversion?

“Damn it, he’s bait! Lord Bashu!”

The grand conference chamber of the main palace.

That was the command post for this defensive battle.

Grand Duke Bashu was there, along with the supreme commander of the national army and others.

Naturally, the area was ringed by the Grand Duke’s Guard.

But then the doors burst open and several shadows leaped inside.

“Enemy atta—ugh!”

The Grand Duke’s Guard fell one after another without even having time to raise a proper cry.

“Protect His Majesty!”

“Sound the alarm bell!”

Voices flew through the chamber.

But the ones who had attacked were the Gyuga clan.

Men and women who made their living through assassination.

They were not about to let their enemies ring bells or blow whistles.

Utter silence was impossible, of course, but compared with the fighting outside the walls, the battle inside unfolded with terrifying quiet.

Even so, the Grand Duke’s Guard who had been attacked were elite troops.

As time passed, they gradually restored their formation.

And then, working in coordination with the Grand Duke’s Guard, curse talismans began to fly.

The one sending them was the very person they were protecting—Grand Duke Bashu of Atinjo.

That gave the Grand Duke’s Guard a sliver of breathing room.

Piiiii!

At last a whistle was blown.

That meant word had now spread through the palace that something had gone wrong around the Grand Duke.

“Hurry! More enemies will gather!”

At last a voice rose from the Gyuga clan, who had carried out the assault in silence until now.

The one who spoke was the old woman.

The Elder herself had personally led the attack on the Grand Duke.

But that also meant the commander’s position had been revealed.

Eight curse talismans flew at the Elder.

The one controlling them was Grand Duke Bashu.

“You little whelp, and you can control eight curse talismans!”

The Elder muttered bitterly.

A curse-arts user controlled curse talismans.

Most could only control one.

When one reached an advanced level, one could control two at the same time.

And if one could control four...

That person could be called one of the foremost curse-arts users in the nation.

For a mere human to control eight curse talismans was not normal.

Of course, there was no one in the Gyuga clan who could do that.

Even the Elder’s limit was four.

This was the result of Bashu’s desperate effort to close the gap between himself and his great father and uncle.

From the time he first became aware of the world, Bashu had understood that his father and his uncle were beings entirely different from himself.

It was not about whether he himself was lacking.

Those two were simply abnormal.

What arose from that realization was not rejection of them, but admiration.

I am different from those two.

I cannot become like them.

That much he understood. That much he accepted.

But even so...

He wanted to draw closer to them.

So he strove.

Wisdom, martial skill, courage... and curse arts.

A level that would not shame a prince—that sort of thing he had long since surpassed.

He had never aimed for anything so low.

When he inherited the Grand Duke’s throne in the future, what the people would compare him against was the gap between him and his father and uncle.

That was why he wanted to narrow that gap, even if only a little.

During his father’s rule, the Grand Duchy of Atinjo had grown into a great power.

And because of that, what was demanded of the one who would inherit the grand ducal throne also became greater.

He held nothing back in anything and continued striving in everything.

The result of that was now before them.

Control of curse talismans surpassing even the Elder of the Gyuga clan.

Even so, the Elder was still the Elder of the Gyuga clan.

Bashu immediately understood that he could not defeat her in a contest of curse talismans.

So Bashu shifted the focus of his curse talismans from attack to the defense of his allies.

Bashu’s curse talismans protected the Grand Duke’s Guard, and the guards—free to focus on offense—struck down members of the Gyuga clan.

“Boy, I’ll acknowledge your effort. But as a curse-arts user, you’re still far from enough.”

With that muttered remark, the Elder retrieved the curse talismans she had been controlling and drew two new talismans from inside her robes.

Had anyone been observant enough, they would have noticed at once that these were not curse talismans.

The two talismans stuck to the ceiling.

And from there, something was “born.”

“Something grotesque—from the ceiling!”

“Spirit talismans!”

At the Grand Duke’s Guard’s shout, Bashu was startled, but he identified them in an instant.

Yes, not curse /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ talismans, but spirit talismans.

Spirit talismans did not unleash curse arts. Rather...

“Undead!”

“Undead in armor? They keep appearing...”

From the two spirit talismans stuck to the ceiling, armored undead emerged one after another.

They wore armor and held swords, but their eyelids were shut, as though sewn closed with thread.

And they were appearing directly above Bashu.

“I’ll deal with the undead! Grand Duke’s Guard, focus on the assassins!”

Bashu shouted and at the same moment drew his sword.

Saint Sword Tattien.

He slashed once at the undead falling from above.

With that single flash of Tattien, the undead dispersed into mist.

“So in the end, are magic and curse arts the same at their core?”

Bashu murmured.

The effect of Saint Sword Tattien was to “ignore magic.”

The undead born from the spirit talismans were, in effect, things generated through curse arts.

If magic and curse arts were fundamentally the same thing... then it stood to reason that a single slash from Saint Sword Tattien would erase them.

It was not only in curse arts that Bashu had exerted himself.

He had trained with the sword as well.

That was why his swordsmanship was solid.

But...

“Even so, your control of the curse talismans will falter.”

The Elder murmured with a grin.

As Bashu cut down the undead dropping from above with his sword, he also had to control his curse talismans and protect the Grand Duke’s Guard.

Controlling curse talismans required extremely delicate technique, and even the slightest disturbance of mind had a major effect.

In fact, it was something far more delicate even than a magician handling magic.

Even for someone like Bashu, who had never neglected his efforts since childhood...

Simultaneous control of sword and curse talismans was impossible.

“This is the subtlety of battle between curse-arts users. It is not decided merely by how many talismans you can control. In the end, little whelp, you are still just a little whelp.”

The Elder’s mutter was heard by no one.

The disturbance in Bashu’s curse talismans was only the slightest one.

But his opponent was the Gyuga clan led by the Elder.

That was more than enough of an opening to exploit.

The curse talismans Bashu had been using for defense wavered just slightly, and the Grand Duke’s Guard began to fall.

By the time he had cut down five descending undead, Bashu realized it too.

“So that was your aim!”

He gritted his teeth in frustration, but there was nothing he could do.

The difference in combat experience between curse-arts users had shown itself.

The fall of the undead did not stop.

The Grand Duke’s Guard were struck down, and the gap widened at an accelerating pace.

Clang.

Bashu’s sword deflected not only an undead strike, but also a thrown knife aimed at him.

At last the attacks of the Gyuga clan had broken through the Grand Duke’s Guard.

“Tch.”

Bashu understood what that meant.

Collapse was now very near.

Almost simultaneously, Zuruma burst into the grand conference chamber.

But too late.

Bashu’s eyes met the Elder’s.

“Die!”

“Damn—”

Bashu steeled himself for death.

Then—

Clang, clang, clang...

Every thrown knife hurled toward Bashu was knocked away.

“What?!”

The air changed.

In that instant, no one could move.

Clack. Clack...

Footsteps could be heard.

But no one wanted to turn toward them.

Because in an instant, all understood that these were the footsteps of death.

Clack. Clack...

Without even the slightest hesitation, the footsteps came closer.

If one moved one’s neck even a little, one could see what those footsteps belonged to.

But no one wanted to move.

No one wanted to know.

Why would anyone want to know the identity of the one who was about to take their life?

And yet Bashu turned his face with certainty.

A man in pale purple clothes, his long black hair neatly bound up and fastened with a small crown that gave off a faint violet gleam.

The owner of the footsteps was Duke Helbe.

“Uncle!”

“Lord Bashu, you have grown wonderfully. Brother... no, if the former Grand Duke were here, he would be greatly pleased.”

Duke Helbe’s expression was as cool and composed as ever.

Then he also addressed the man who had just burst in through the door moments before.

“Zuruma, you held them well.”

“Yes, sir!”

Zuruma hurriedly dropped to one knee as he answered.

Up to that point, not a single member of the Gyuga clan had been able to move.

It was not because of reason.

They understood that if they seized the initiative and moved, they might improve the situation.

They understood that with their heads.

But only with their heads.

Even understanding it, their bodies would not move.

No—depending on the person, some could not even think that much.

They could think of nothing at all.

Their minds were filled completely with fear...

They could only pray that time would pass without incident, and that the “death” before their eyes would spare them.

It is said that when death approaches right before a person’s eyes, all the experiences of their life race through their mind like a lantern-slide show.

A lie.

That kind of thing is a reward granted only to those who are at least somewhat satisfied with their lives.

Ordinary people are granted no such reward.

What remains is only fear.

Fear that leaves one able to do nothing.

Even so, there are a few who can still force words out while fully aware of that fear.

“So...the monster has awakened.”

The Elder’s mutter.

She did not mean “monster” in the sense of some nonhuman thing.

But whether human or not, how much did that distinction matter?

In the end, it changed nothing about the fact that it was something no one could possibly defeat, and something that brought absolute death.

“A monster? Heh. There are two true monsters staying in this palace who far surpass someone like me... though I suppose not knowing that is its own kind of happiness.”

Duke Helbe looked toward a rooftop a little way off.

There, while secretly hiding themselves, was a pair peeking into the grand conference chamber—a swordsman and a magician.

They had likely meant to intervene in Bashu’s battle if things truly turned dire.

Duke Helbe gave a faint smile and bowed his head slightly.

“For now, let us prove that there is no problem at all before the true monsters decide to intervene.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Exactly what you are imagining.”

Duke Helbe answered the Elder’s question without changing expression.

“Die.”

At that instant, every member of the Gyuga clan in the grand conference chamber died and collapsed.

Something thin had pierced them all through the back of the neck.

Every one of them.

How many there were who understood that what had pierced them was an astonishingly thin curse talisman, and that it had struck them all simultaneously, was another matter.

At the moment he pierced them, Duke Helbe drew one large breath.

In truth, he still had not fully returned to his original condition.

Even so, he had forced a great many things into place at the very edge of possibility...

Still wearing a faint smile, Duke Helbe walked forward, came before Bashu, and bowed his head.

An astonishingly graceful, beautiful bow.

“Duke Helbe Plak has arrived.”

“Uncle...”

“Your Majesty, please command me to suppress the rebel scum attacking the palace.”

Still without changing expression, Duke Helbe requested an order.

Bashu took one deep breath.

That completely reined in both his mind and body.

The words that left his mouth did not waver by even a millimeter.

“I command Duke Helbe. Exterminate those attacking the palace. This is an imperial command.”

“Your imperial command has been duly received.”

This was the first command the new Grand Duke Bashu had ever given Duke Helbe.

Duke Helbe bowed deeply, then began walking toward the outside of the grand conference chamber.

A smile spilled unconsciously from the corner of his mouth.

What appeared on his face was the expression of a teacher rejoicing in the growth of his pupil.

“You said exterminate. Heh... as expected of Lord Bashu. Brother, your blood has without question been passed down to Lord Bashu.”

Naturally, no one heard that murmur.

“Not drive them back, not remove them—exterminate them. Then let us exterminate them thoroughly enough that they will never again have the will to rise in rebellion.”

After that, in less than ten minutes, the noble troops attacking the palace—centered on House Bubly—were completely annihilated.

It is said that four thousand corpses lay scattered there.

The swordsman and the magician who had secretly watched the battle in the grand conference chamber were, needless to say, Abel and Ryo.

They had not watched the moment of Duke Helbe’s “extermination” outside.

They had assumed it would be a dreadful sight, and if Duke Helbe himself had come out, then they judged there was no longer any chance of the worst happening.

But they did see the scene after everything had ended.

“This really is the way of dominance.”

“The dominance of the kingly way and the way of dominance?”

“Yes. That.”

Outside the palace, countless corpses lay strewn across the ground.

The attackers had been exterminated by Duke Helbe alone.

Seeing that, Ryo used the phrase “the way of dominance.”

“It certainly makes the image easy enough to grasp, but...”

“The way of dominance isn’t just about displaying power. And it also isn’t just about solving everything with force.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No. That would just make you a blunt instrument.”

“O-okay...”

Ryo declared it flatly, and Abel more or less accepted it.

There was no particular reason for him to argue.

“To display power, and to make people captivated by that power—that is the essence of the way of dominance.”

“Power captivating people? I won’t deny that people are drawn to overwhelming power, but...”

“Would it be easier to understand if I said that it’s when that is expanded all the way to governance on the national level? Every citizen, each one of them, is captivated by that power. And because of that, they come to feel comfortable being ruled by that power.”

“They feel comfortable being ruled?”

“Yes. The desire to be ruled by someone overwhelmingly strong is part of human nature. In some worlds, that may take the form of what people call a ‘god,’ perhaps... but I think that’s the essence of the way of dominance.”

Ryo, who had set only the tip of one foot into the world of historiography, had once become interested in the very act of “governance” across all times and places and studied it.

To study governance was also to understand the essence of “the masses.”

Why had Athens, which practiced democracy, lost its strength?

Why had republican Rome shifted into imperial Rome?

Why, even when Western countries tried to establish democracy, did it fail to take root in the Middle East and Africa?

Of course, there were dozens of correct answers to each of those questions.

The shape of the answer changed depending on which angle one looked from.

This was simply one possible answer—one that emerged when attention was turned toward “the masses.”

“Abel, you should follow not the way of dominance, but the kingly way.”

“O-okay.”

“The way of dominance doesn’t suit you.”

Ryo said it with certainty.

“Is it really a matter of what suits someone and what doesn’t?”

“Of course it is. Personally, I don’t think the kingly way and the way of dominance are matters of one being right and the other wrong.”

“Oh?”

“I think whether they fit or don’t fit comes out of an enormous knot of complex factors—the ruler’s own aptitude, the people’s aptitude, the historical tendencies of the region those people have lived through...”

Ryo explained.

Abel tilted his head.

He did not seem able to agree completely.

“You think the kingly way is better?”

“Yes. More or less.”

“If that’s what you think, then that’s exactly why the kingly way suits you.”

“I see. So that’s what you mean.”

Perhaps something had clicked into place for Abel, because he nodded several times.

“The world is made out of diversity. What is justice for one group of people may be injustice for another. And if you forcibly impose one side’s justice, backlash is inevitable.”

“That much is certainly true.”

What was correct in the Central Countries was not necessarily correct here in the Eastern Countries.

One week after the Grand Duchy of Atinjo’s royal palace was attacked, Ryo and Abel were set to depart Camphor, the capital of the Grand Duchy of Atinjo.

“Duke Rondo, Sir Abel, thank you very much.”

“No, Your Majesty Bashu, we are the ones who should thank you for your hospitality.”

Bashu expressed his gratitude, and Ryo returned it.

“And thank you for delivering Saint Sword Tattien.”

“It’s good that Duke Helbe recovered too.”

Duke Helbe and Abel also exchanged thanks.

“From the port town of Hoian, one of our Grand Duchy of Atinjo’s ocean-cruising warships will escort you as far as Darwei.”

“Yes, thank you very much.”

And so Ryo and Abel, mounted once again on Andalusia and Feiwan, resumed their journey home to the Knightley Kingdom.