Reincarnated as a Sword Vol. 4

by Yuu Tanaka

  “I shall inform the prince and princess.”

  I thought about going straight to the Count, but maybe a little consultation with Fult and Satya was in order. The Count was more likely to grant the Phyllian royalty an audience, after all.

  “Fran…you have another sack with you?” Fult said, sighing.

  Satya mirrored his exasperation. Their past experience with Fran and burlap bags told them exactly what to expect.

  “Just so we’re clear, what is in that bag?”

  “This guy.”

  “Oh! Goodness, I knew it…”

  “Mmphhh!”

  Satya let out a small yelp when the bound man rolled out of the bag, although she wasn’t as startled as before. She probably had built up some resistance.

  “And this is?”

  “Bad guy.”

  “If you have to tie him up and gag him, I suppose he is.”

  “One of the Count’s middle son’s cronies.”

  The other children were asleep, leaving only Fult, Satya, and Sellid to listen.

  Fran told them what had happened, and I mentally thanked the Phyllians for hanging on her every word. In the end, they understood that Tormeo was helping Brook in some sort of evil conspiracy.

  “This is…terrible!”

  “Young Brook, you say…” said Sellid. “Not only is he an accomplished tradesman, but he holds council over the trade affairs of Bulbola. He would have the capacity for as many underhand dealings as he wanted.”

  Sellid was right. What happened to the orphanage was probably his doing as well. After all, the orphanage was his main competition in the contest.

  “We must tell Lord Rhodus.”

  “Yes, but will he believe us…?”

  Fult was right. Even with Tormeo as our witness, it was doubtful that the Count would believe his own son was plotting to overthrow him.

  “Still, we must act.”

  “You’re right.”

  The royal twins looked at each other and nodded. While the matter had nothing to do with their kingdom, the lives of countless civilians were still at stake. They weren’t the type to sit on their hands and watch. Their royal dignity wouldn’t allow it.

  Sellid watched them with a thoughtful look. He understood the risks of interfering with another kingdom’s family matters. Seedrun was still fresh on everyone’s minds, after all.

  “Your Highnesses,” he said, knowing his advice would likely be ignored. “I understand that you wish to use your authority for good, but this might escalate into an international incident. You must let Bulbola take care of her own.”

  “It’ll be too late by then.”

  “Indeed.”

  Watching the exchange made me think that Fult and Satya must have inherited their sense of justice from Sellid. It was as if his objections actually strengthened their resolve. It was such an effective way of instilling strong values, I almost thought Sellid was doing it on purpose.

  “In any case, we shall discuss this matter with Count Rhodus.”

  “Hm.”

  “There is one thing we must do before that,” Fult said, glaring at Tormeo.

  The intense look was unexpectedly intimidating on such a beautiful face.

  “Urgh…”

  Tormeo was uncomfortable. Keeping up the pressure, Fult leaned in and whispered:

  “We are the heirs of Phyllius.”

  “Mgh?”

  “Understand? You have already been put under the curse of our Godsword.”

  “Hrngh!”

  Those who brought harm to the House of Phyllius were cursed by the Godsword. Tormeo was aware of this rumor. The prince stared into his fearful eyes.

  “We are going to have an audience with the Count now. Make sure that your testimony is true. Or else.”

  Fult let out a short burst of demonic energy. To an untrained layman like Tormeo, it felt murderous. He knew then that the prince had some supernatural abilities. As soon as the tradesman’s gag was removed, he screamed.

  “All right! I’ll do anything you say! Just please, not the curse!”

  “Very good. So long as you don’t make an enemy out of us, you shall not suffer its consequences.”

  Tormeo would be less inclined to pull any funny business now that he believed the curse of the Godsword was on him.

  “I shall call for Count Rhodus.”

  “Please.”

  Sellid let out a resigned sigh as he left the room.

  The Marquis came soon after.

  He had a grave look on his face today, quite unlike the annoyed expression he wore the last time the prince called for him. Sebastian must’ve told him about the sack. He was expecting something now.

  He let out a surprised cry at seeing Tormeo laid out on the floor.

  “What is Tormeo doing here…?”

  “You know him?”

  “Of course. He is the owner of a popular line of beauty products in Bulbola. Our nobles love his goods.”

  “He is on friendly terms with your son, is he not?”

  “Yes. Brook, my second, is on the board of his trade association.”

  Rhodus knew that whatever Tormeo was here for, it wasn’t good. He sat down to prepare himself for the revelation.

  “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

  “Yes. Tormeo will tell you everything you want to know. Go on, then.”

  “Y-yes, lord!”

  Leave it to royalty to master giving orders. Tormeo showed no hesitation when he exposed Brook’s plans. The Count’s countenance fell as the conversation went on.

  At first, he was angry at the preposterous notion, but turned pale as he realized that Tormeo was telling the truth. I felt sorry for him. As much as he took the side of his own flesh and blood, the old aristocrat knew truth when he heard it.

  “I thought he would rebel against me, but to put the lives of our citizens at stake…” the Count mumbled. “Oh, my son…”

  The hardest thing for a father was to suspect his own son of wrongdoing.

  “N-no,” he said. “We need proof. More evidence…”

  “We have just heard the testimony of Brook’s trusted confidant. What further proof do we need?”

  “Given the man’s circumstances, surely…”

  Surely we were threatening him into speaking falsely. But the Count didn’t say it out loud. Finishing his sentence would’ve meant accusing the prince and princess of lying.

  “I apologize. This is hard for me to take in.”

  “I understand.”

  “I’ve known… I knew that either Phillip or Brook was using my seal without authorization…”

  I almost forgot about that. The Count’s investigation was quite thorough, but he couldn’t bring himself to suspect his own son.

  “Phillip is as simple as he is straight forward. He isn’t capable of conspiring in the shadows. Which leaves the culprit as…”

  Marquis Christon hung his head.

  Inner conflict tore at him. On one hand, he must see to it that justice was done. But, on the other, he wanted to keep the whole thing under wraps. The incident would bring shame to the family. But insisting on obfuscation was difficult with Phyllian royalty around. Not taking immediate action would offend the Phyllians and also harm the lives of civilians.

  He was weighing his options, trying to find the best possible solution.

  Eventually, he came to his decision.

  “Very well. I shall mobilize the Night Guard to apprehend my son along with his co-conspirators, the mercenary and the alchemist.”

  “And we move tonight?”

  “Yes. However, because of the festival, it will be difficult to mobilize the whole guard.”

  It would’ve been nice to call in the entire cavalry to arrest Brook, but it was better than nothing. The Count still looked hesitant, but at least he was taking action.

  Less than an hour later, the city guard gathered at the manor and were told they were to arrest Brook and Weint on sight.
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  Fult and Satya would stay at the manor. If they got hurt meddling in another kingdom’s business, Sellid would literally lose his head. They agreed to this plan only after his strong protests.

  Of course, we were part of the strike team. Someone needed to lead the way.

  Jet, can you feel where Brook is at?

  “Woof!”

  I see.

  Brook wasn’t in the house where we captured Tormeo but in the YTA estate. Jet pointed his nose in its direction.

  “Brook’s over there.”

  “That mansion…”

  Marquis Christon gazed at the manor in the distance. He was hesitating, wondering why this strange girl had brought him here and accused his son of treason without solid evidence. All he had to go by was the testimony of a man who was clearly under duress.

  We had no choice but to take the lead.

  Fran.

  “Hm.”

  “H-hey! Where are you going?!”

  Fran dashed forward, ignoring the Marquis’ complaints. Our target was the gatekeeper. Wasting time on polite questions might mean informing the people on the inside. The Count would be reassured once he knew Brook was in the building.

  “Wha—”

  Fran punched the guard in the solar plexus before he could utter a word. I had Identified him earlier to make sure and saw he was under the Criminal and Possessed status ailments. We caught him as he crumpled to the floor and brought him back to Count Christon and his troops.

  We gagged and bound him, just in case. The man regained consciousness after a quick Heal.

  “Mmmphh!”

  “Quiet.”

  “Hurgh!”

  After a quick kick to the gut, the man curled up. After several more administrations, he finally knew enough to stop struggling.

  “Wh-what are you doing with him?” the Count interrupted, his voice tinged with fear.

  “Hm? Interrogation, of course.”

  “It looks like torture to me… Who is he?”

  “I dunno. He’s one of them, though.”

  “And you have proof of this?”

  “I know one when I see one.”

  “So you don’t.”

  The Count held his head in exasperation. Lacking Identify, he had no way of verifying the truth. I didn’t blame him for his lack of faith.

  “I’m going to ask you some questions. Answer honestly, and I’ll stop hurting you. Make noise, and I’ll kill you.”

  The gatekeeper nodded, turning pale at the graveness in Fran’s voice. We took off his gag, and he cowered in fearful anticipation.

  “Who owns this mansion?”

  “The Ythra Trade Association! I’m just a scrub! I don’t know anything, I swear!”

  He wasn’t lying so far.

  “The Ythra Trade Association?” a guard next to the Count muttered to himself.

  He was an old veteran named Danan. He had excellent command over his squadrons, was as strong as a D-Rank adventurer, and had received many accolades in his day.

  “The YTA works under the Tormeo Trade Association, meaning that it is tied to Master Brook. A dastardly organization.”

  “I see… Brook…”

  Marquis Christon seemed completely oblivious to this fact, but his soldiers knew about the YTA. They were cunning but also had the protection of crooked aristocrats and trade associations. Any attempt at investigating the YTA never came to fruition.

  This was clearly Brook’s doing, but we had no hard evidence. Bringing the subject up would probably end with his saying, “I’ll look into it,” followed by a temporary halt of the YTA’s shady activities.

  “Is a man called Brook inside?”

  “Yes, he is! The head of the YTA always sucks up to him! He’s been in there for hours, he passes through those gates all the time!”

  “Last question. Do you do bad things?”

  “W-well, I…”

  “Hm.”

  Fran’s kick sent jolts up the man’s spine. He struggled to answer, in tears from the pain.

  “I-I’m sorry! I’ll talk! I’ll talk, just please no more!”

  “You should’ve done that from the start.”

  “We do bad things! Illegal things! Selling contraband, women, setting our competition’s houses on fire, you name it!”

  The YTA dealt with any illegal violent act outside the realm of the Tormeo Trade Association—TTA. They operated like the mob. Despite having different names, they were definitely the shadow arm of the TTA.

  Even if their crimes ever came to light, Brook could just cut ties with them at his convenience. The crooked trade association was the perfect scapegoat.

  “Does Brook know?”

  “He must know, considering how much he frequents this place. Not to mention his ties to the TTA.”

  “Oh, Brook… How could you do this…?”

  The Count was still in denial.

  “They told me to take care of the body of one of Brook’s sex slaves. He went at the girl too hard!”

  “Such fool talk… My son would never…”

  The Count uttered a weak defense. He knew it was true, but he didn’t want to believe it.

  “I told him he had no right to be my heir as long as he kept looking down on the common man… I thought it would change his mind.”

  “I guess all it did was make him throw a tantrum.”

  “Oh, Brook… My son…”

  A tantrum? I didn’t think he’d plot to kill his own brother in a tantrum.

  “Very well. If Brook is indeed here, I shall ask him personally. The testimony this man gave was sufficient. Arrest anyone who resists… Brook, as well.”

  “Yes, Lord Count!”

  The soldiers stormed the gates. Half of them surrounded the estate while the rest charged through the mansion.

  Brook’s minions were still inside, but they were no match for fully armed soldiers. Try as they might, they were immediately subdued. I Identified them as we went and found they were all Possessed. I tried feeding one such aggressor some curry. I gave him the smooth kind, which Fran usually ate, instead of the chunky kind we used in our curry bread. We shoved a cup in his mouth and forced it down his gullet.

  “Gaah!”

  The man looked to be in pain. Choking on curry was preferable to staying Possessed, at least. The Fiend Water had produced this ailment and seemed to put its victims in a state of frenzy.

  Brook had even slipped some to his own men. Soon, we would know why.

  Now that I thought about it, the drunk who went berserk near our stall the other day was Possessed, too. Fiend Water might have made its way beyond the Noble Dish. The situation could be worse than I thought.

  Five minutes had gone since we began our raid.

  We reached the room where Brook was supposed to be.

  Is he here?

  “Bark!”

  There was no mistaking Jet’s Aura Sense. Brook should be behind this door.

  Fran kicked it in. Brook was rummaging through his desk as if looking for something. He had heard the noise and was preparing to escape with his valuables.

  “Wh-who are you?!”

  “Hm. I don’t need to introduce myself to scum like you.”

  “This is breaking and entering!”

  “It isn’t, son. This is an investigation.”

  “F-Father! Why are you…?”

  “I should ask you the same. What are you doing in this den of thieves?”

  “I have no idea what you are—”

  Brook began listing his excuses, but something else caught my eye. Brook was Possessed, as well. How? Did he drink the Fiend Water, too? If so, why?

  As I puzzled over it, a soldier came forward.

  “We’ve gained control of the mansion. We found some wanted criminals and have taken them into custody. They’re all gathered in the garden. We also found girls we suspect to be victims of illegal slavery and secured them.”

  Criminals and slaves. There was your solid evidence. No on
e could plead ignorance now.

  “Brook, tell your story to the Knight Guard. Your flimsy excuses won’t be of any help.”

  “No… No, no, NO!!! Why is this happening?!”

  Did he really think no one would notice? As far as covering up crimes go, Brook was pretty sloppy. The YTA were so brazen that it guaranteed someone would eventually expose them.

  He might be smart enough to plot, but he wasn’t cautious enough to cover his tracks. To begin with, it would be plainly obvious that any riot which caused the impeachment of his own father and the death of his brother would have to be conceived by one of the Christons. They were the rulers of Bulbola after all. He hadn’t thought this through.

  Well, we managed to avoid a coup because of his sloppiness. All we had to do now was arrest Weint, and we could prevent the Fiend Water epidemic from spreading. The city could even use our Cure Turmeric curry. Not that they had a choice, considering I used the entire stock of Cure Turmeric to make it.

  Anyway, we should start by feeding the people in this mansion to cure them of the Possessed status.

  What flavor should I go with? Ultra-hot turned out to be ultra-popular, so we didn’t have much leftover. I guess we could feed them Plain and Hot. I was about to take out my curry bread when Brook let out a menacing scream.

  “Graaargh!”

  What’s this? Was he becoming enraged out of desperation?

  “Gaaaarggh!!!”

  “B-Brook?! What’s the matter, son?!”

  Marquis Christon grabbed his son’s shoulders, but he was already foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog.

  “Garargggggh!”

  Still on his knees, Brook looked up and convulsed. Black mist rose out of his body. Things weren’t looking good.

  The effect looked similar to the Possessed status, albeit far more amplified.

  Fran, shove the curry down his throat!

  “Hm!”

  Fran took a plate of curry out of her Pocket Dimension.

  “Jet, hold him down!”

  Jet rolled the still spasming Brook over to his stomach and pinned him with his front paws. Fran took a spoonful of curry to his lips, but his rampage made it difficult to get anything into his mouth.

  “Jet, roll him over again.”

  “Woof.”

  Turning him over, Fran forced Brook’s mouth open and splashed curry all over his face. His symptoms were getting worse, and he showed no signs of being cured. Or maybe the curry just got into his eyes… Still, some of it must have gone in his mouth.