by Ryota Hori
And indeed, looking at the body, it did seem like it was dispatched by unarmed means.
“There’s another thing that bothers me...” Another soldier said timidly as the two glared at the corpse.
“What?! Be clear with it!” The normally calm Rolfe was unable to hide his irritation.
But that was only natural. This incident could shake the country, and there were few clues remaining.
“Yes, sir!” The soldier gave his report, shivering in fright of Rolfe’s anger. “This corpse we presume to be the otherworlder has its face burned off, and also has finger marks on its neck. And, erm... The belt for the body’s trousers is...”
“What?! Hurry up with it!”
“Yes, sir!” The soldier flinched at Celia’s annoyance. “The belt is missing! The trousers are slipping off the corpse. I cannot imagine him trying to fight in that manner...”
Hearing this, both Celia’s and Rolfe’s expressions changed, and they hurried to the corpse.
“He’s right...”
“They couldn’t possibly fight like this... So how?”
The corpse lying before them seemed to be properly dressed at a glance, but upon closer inspection, there were some discrepancies. In particular, the sleeves of the outfit were far too long. The cuff of his trousers was also too long for his legs, making it hard to believe he could walk in them without tripping. And the biggest issue, as the soldier said, was that the trousers were also loose.
Impossible. They wouldn’t be able to walk right in these.
At that moment, everything suddenly became clear to Rolfe, and Celia as well.
“Oh, no. Sir Rolfe, the soldier you sent to the infirmary! He’s the otherworlder!”
All the color draining from her face, Celia strengthened her legs with martial thaumaturgy and tore out of the room like a gust of wind.
“Put the castle on high alert! Understood? The enemy is disguised as a soldier. I don’t care if you have to arrest any suspicious-looking soldier you find.”
Giving his orders in rapid succession, Rolfe took after Celia, leaving the room behind him. After putting everything together, they realized everything that took place.
“The worst outcome truly has come to pass... Hopefully he is still here.” Rolfe called out to Celia, who was running ahead of him.
“Yes. For now, we should check the infirmary... But he’s probably gone by now.” Celia hastened her run with a bitter expression.
The terrible villain who slew her grandfather was right in front of her eyes, and she didn’t even notice. Rolfe could only guess at how frustrated she must have felt.
“In that case, the otherworlder had a means of fighting...” He said to her running back, between heavy breaths.
“Yes, and he was skilled enough to face four armed soldiers and a thaumaturgist on Grandfather’s level... It seems.”
“To have this much skill when he’s only just been summoned...” Celia’s answer sent shivers down his spine.
An otherworlder with this much power could be prowling the palace, and he harbored clear animosity towards the empire. The scars on Gaius’s corpse stood as proof of that hatred.
He’s a dangerous man, but we won’t let him get away. He’ll rue the day he foolishly dared to defy the empire.
“Orlando!” Celia shouted as soon as she caught sight of a young man, standing in charge of the soldiers cleaning up the mess.
“Celia, Sir Rolfe. Did word of the fire bring you here?” The young man turned to the sound of Celia’s voice with a surprised expression, and gestured towards the infirmary as he spoke. “In that case, do not worry. I’ve taken care of it. There is no danger of the fire spreading any further.”
“I can see that for myself.” Celia ignored Orlando, and proceeded to question him. “More importantly, I have something to ask you. There should have been a soldier carried into the infirmary just before the fire started. Where is he? Is Ronbert present? Can anyone here explain the situation?”
Celia’s question made Orlando’s speech trail off into stuttering. He was present here purely by coincidence, having just happened to be walking by the courtyard when he overheard the shouting about a fire, which led him to rush over. He was not fully informed about the situation.
“W-Wait just a moment, Celia. I’m not following what is happening. Why are you in such a panic? It is very unlike you.”
Orlando could none too well hide his confusion at Celia’s uncharacteristic lack of calmness, but Celia herself didn’t seem to be in the right state of mind to answer Orlando’s question.
“Never mind.” Her thorny tone made it clear she’d given up on asking him. “Is there anyone here who can explain what is going on?”
Celia’s sharp gaze scanned over everyone present, but her question was succeeded only by a lengthy silence. Everyone seemed to stop working and looked away uncomfortably, trying to escape her gaze. For all they were concerned, they had only rushed over to help put out the fire.
Finally, one man’s voice disrupted the uncomfortable quiet.
“You’re quite right. That soldier you’re looking for was definitely here.”
It was a man dressed in white, bald at the very top of his head, with the hair surrounding his exposed scalp as white as snow. His unkempt, unshaven beard gave the impression of a sloppy person.
“Ronbert... There you are.”
The old man came out of the burned remains of the infirmary, reeking of alcohol as he advanced through the group of people to reach Celia. Under normal circumstances, she’d probably be criticizing him by now. Although he was quite skilled as a court physician, walking around the castle with the stench of alcohol about him was preposterous. But Celia swallowed the anger in her throat, for the flames of anger in his eyes riveted her in place.
“I just checked the infirmary, but that man’s long gone by now.” He said in a low, dark voice. “He probably managed to escape amidst the panic of the fire. If you’re going after him, best get a move on. He’s a dangerous man.”
His voice lacked all traces of his usual cheerfulness.
“There’s three corpses inside. Must’ve had some pretty impressive skill to kill ’em like that. Doesn’t seem like there’s any signs of hesitation, either.”
“Then, Alan...” Celia guessed at the reason for Ronbert’s anger.
“Yeah... His collarbone was smashed.”
Those words rendered everyone present speechless. Alan was Ronbert’s beloved son, who had been expecting a child of his own soon. Everyone who knew just how much Ronbert was looking forward to his first grandson struggled all the more to think of words of consolation. Out of everyone, though, Orlando was the only one who seemed incapable of picking up on the situation.
“Celia, what is going on here?! What is Sir Ronbert talking about? Who killed Alan?!”
Orlando had thought that everything was settling down now that the fire had been extinguished, so Celia and Ronbert’s words were all too unexpected to him.
“Orlando, go and gather the thaumaturgist unit at once.” Ignoring his inquiry, Celia started giving orders. “Sir Rolfe, please organize the imperial guard. I will go to His Grace and ask for permission to deploy the troops! We shall regroup at the courtyard.”
“Understood!”
“W-Wait, Celia, I have no idea what’s...”
Contrasted with Rolfe, who knew the situation well, Orlando asked for an explanation timidly, in fear of Celia’s anger.
“Never mind that, Sir Orlando! For the time being, abide by Lady Celia’s orders!”
“Please, Orlando, we don’t have time for this! He might get away!”
Orlando’s expression changed on hearing Rolfe and Celia’s words. Orlando Armstrum was a third-seat palace thaumaturgist, and a warrior who had lived through quite a few battlefields. Though he may have appeared unreliable at first glance, he had the right stuff when it came to handling these kinds of situations. Celia’s voice caused his mind to make the switch from peace
time to the battlefield.
“How many troops?” He asked in a deep, icy voice that didn’t seem to belong to the shaken man from earlier.
“As many as you can muster! The enemy is a dangerous man. We are in a state of emergency, so I approve the use of teleportation!”
Celia had given the thaumaturgists permission to make use of thaumaturgy which was forbidden in the castle. That was a prime indicator of just how pressing this emergency was.
“Acknowledged.” Nodding at Celia’s words, Orlando swiftly began to chant an incantation. “God of Light, Meneos. I invoke my contract with you, grant unto me speed to rival light itself.”
The next moment, he was transported to the front of the thaumaturgists’ barracks. The sight left Rolfe astonished.
“I would expect no less of a third-seat thaumaturgist. Being able to teleport with such a short incantation is most impressive.”
The greater the caster’s skill, the shorter their incantation could be. The fact that Orlando was capable of verbally abridging a spell as advanced as teleportation stood as evidence of his skill.
“Of course. He is Grandfather’s pupil, after all. It would be inexcusable for him to not have that sort of skill.”
Rolfe’s words made Celia’s hardened expression soften just a bit. She was pleased to hear her fellow student receive praise. But the next moment, that emotion faded from Celia’s mind.
“Sir Rolfe, we have to move. There’s no time to waste.” She raised her hand towards Rolfe. “I will use a spell to send you to the Imperial Guard’s barracks. Please gather the troops.”
“Understood. Go and gain His Grace’s approval.”
He may have been the captain of the royal guard, but he still could not deploy those forces without the Emperor’s explicit approval.
“I will! God of Light, Meneos. I invoke my contract with you, grant unto this man speed to rival light itself.”
After confirming Rolfe was gone, Celia recited yet another incantation, all to corner the shadow of that escaped killer.
When Celia teleported herself to the doors of the audience chamber, the guards turned their halberds menacingly in her direction.
“How dare you use teleportation within the castle’s boundaries?!”
“Do you intend to spit in the face of national law?!”
Their shouts of anger lashed out against Celia.
“This is an emergency! I must relay the situation to His Grace!” Celia ignored the guards’ interrogation.
Realizing the assistant court thaumaturgist had teleported in, the guards standing at both sides of the doors leading to the audience chamber lowered their halberds respectfully. But along with their embarrassment at shouting at such a figure, their expressions were thick with confusion.
“It’s you, Lady Celia. My apologies! But why did you teleport...?” One of the guards asked. “You’re aware of the law, are you not? Did you do this with Sir Gaius’s approval?”
Their confusion was plain to see. Usually, using thaumaturgy in the castle was forbidden, and its usage was hampered by a barrier set around the building. This special barrier prevented teleporting into the castle from the outside, and also weakened the use of thaumaturgy within the premises. As such, using it within the palace required performing a special ritual ahead of time, which was reserved for the court thaumaturgist and a handful of high ranking knights. It was an obvious measure they had to take in the name of security.
In addition, only the court thaumaturgist was allowed to use thaumaturgy within the palace itself, and even then, he was not permitted to use it freely. On the contrary, the law explicitly stated it could only be used in a state of utmost emergency; rare situations where lives were at risk.
That wasn’t a law which could be easily broken, either. All those who broke it were sentenced to death, with very small exceptions. The guards’ doubts were correct, but Celia didn’t have the time to answer to them.
“Silence! I told you, this is urgent! We are wasting precious seconds here! If you will not open the door, I shall force it open with my spells!”
Celia’s eyes flickered in what bordered on madness. Her beloved grandfather’s death and her hatred towards his killer evaporated all traces of calmness from her heart. The court etiquette that was beaten into her since she was young were fading from her thoughts already. All that remained in her thoughts was the craving to corner and slay the killer.
“P-Please wait one moment, Lady Celia. We shall usher you in at once!”
Overwhelmed by Celia’s anger, the guard shivered as he nodded to his comrade, who moved back into the doors. They probably instinctively realized her resolve was true from her words and demeanor. It didn’t take ten seconds from when the guard went into the doors for them to silently swing open, this time to welcome her.
“What is the meaning of this, Celia Valkland?! How dare you show such disrespect before His Grace!”
As Celia entered the audience chamber, she was met with the angry shouting of the iron-blooded Prime Minister, Durnest.
Tch, the minister is here, too... I’m already short on time to explain things as it is... Celia clicked her tongue while thinking to herself.
This wasn’t something she could be happy about, given that every second counted. Prime Minister Durnest was a fiercely loyal aide to the Emperor, and a vassal with influence over O’ltormea’s fate, but he was also an extremely unreasonable man. His visage, especially over matters of upholding the law, was what earned him his reputation as a man of steel.
“Your silence tells us nothing. What even brought you here? What of Sir Gaius? It is the duty of the court thaumaturgist to come in case of trouble. Assistant court thaumaturgist, Celia Valkland! I order you by my authority as prime minister of this Empire, answer!”
His questions came in rapid succession, all of them obvious ones. But in a situation where every second counted, Durnest’s justified questions were nothing but a nuisance. However, there was one person in this room to whom Celia could not afford to show disrespect; the Emperor, seated on the Throne.
“Enough, Durnest. Celia asked for an audience with us in extreme urgency. Surely something unusual has happened.”
“But, Your Grace...” Durnest insisted that excusing her would not serve as a good example.
Durnest himself realized Celia’s actions likely had a reason behind them, but that was a different matter. He was a protector of the law, for better or for worse.
“Cease your obstinance.” The Emperor’s voice was cool and collected.
Even Durnest was incapable of protesting against that voice. The Emperor’s eyes narrowed, their gaze stabbing into him.
“As you wish, Your Grace. Please forgive my disrespect.”
Even the Prime Minister was incapable of going against the Emperor’s direct word. The current Emperor was more than just a nominal title for show. This man was the supreme ruler who had brought the center of the western continent to its knees by sheer strength, after all. Durnest lowered his head and took a step back, standing behind the throne. The will of the Emperor stood above all laws. That was both the strength and weakness of a despotic dictatorship.
“Good. Now, Celia Valkland. What brings you before me?”
As he spoke these words, a wave of pressure emanated from his body towards Celia. The pressure forced her to kneel.
Truly, one would expect no less of His Grace...
The First Emperor of the Empire of O’ltormea and the man known by the surrounding countries as the Lion Emperor— Lionel Eisenheit.
He was born the third prince of the old kingdom of O’ltormea, located in the mountain range in the center of the western continent. The old kingdom of O’ltormea had little territory and a struggling economy. In addition, the internal affairs of the kingdom were in a state of turmoil, and the power struggles between the nobles and the royal house had brought the country to the brink of decline. It seemed the fate of the kingdom would be to be absorbed by the surrounding co
untries.
But, lamenting the state of his country, young Lionel aspired to restore its strength. He won the succession wars, and through purging the opposing nobility, he restored power to the royal house. In the process, Lionel himself fought through many battles.
And forty years ago, with the invasion and takeover of the neighboring Kingdom of Thene, he changed the name of the country to the Empire of O’ltormea. Ever since then, he had been committed to fighting for sovereignty over the center of the continent.
Even at the age of 68, this Emperor, who had known the bloody battlefield, was covered in virile muscles and had enough strength to overwhelm most commanders in battle. Having slain many warriors and absorbed their prana over many years, he still boasted the strongest body in the Empire in terms of raw strength.
“Hmm. What is the matter, Celia?” Lionel slowly asked Celia, who hung her head. “I will not understand unless you speak. You wished for an urgent audience with me. You may answer me, promptly.”
His serene voice undid the pressure in her heart.
“Yes, Your Grace! I humbly request that you grant me command over the Imperial Guard!”
Steeling her resolve, Celia made her request, but her words were far too sudden and unexpected. Silence hung over the throne, as Lionel’s gaze remained fixated upon Celia’s face.
“What are you saying, Lady Celia?!” Durnest shouted, recovering from the shock. “An assistant court thaumaturgist asking for command over soldiers, and the Imperial Guard meant to protect the Emperor himself at that? Is Sir Gaius aware of this?!”
Silence reigned again. Durnest shouted, red in the face, demanding answers from Celia. His anger was justified; Celia held no such authority, though she was allowed to offer her opinion, as palace thaumaturgists also doubled as civil and staff officers. But that was only in the scope of verbal advice. She had no right whatsoever to command soldiers, much less the elite Imperial Guard stationed to defend the Emperor’s person.
“Command over the Imperial Guard, you say... very well.” Lionel’s voice, however, was calm in contrast to Durnest’s. “Depending on the reason, I may permit it. Use them as you will.”