Hyakuren no Haou to Seiyaku no Valkyria - Volume 24 - Chapter 4.5

“By overthrowing Babel and making up for your father’s misdeeds, you can restore your good name in the eyes of the people,” Arness replied.

“I suppose...” Nozomu muttered in response.

“Also, if we go with a story like ‘We recognized our father was a criminal, so instead of trying to avenge him, we simply left the country,’ that would provide a good explanation as to why we’re still alive today,” Arness added.

“Would it? I’d feel bad about lying to the people though...” He had moral reservations about lying to his subjects and telling them that his father was the one in the wrong, especially considering that Yuuto had exhausted every possible option to keep them fed and healthy.

“Well, it doesn’t exactly sit right with me either, but that’s honestly neither here nor there right now. It’s the best option we’ve got,” Arness said, effectively glossing over the details.

Nozomu knew he was right, but he couldn’t shake how gross it felt to him. He was honestly envious of Arness’s ability to keep his personal feelings from influencing his decisions. It was a skill Nozomu felt he’d always lacked.

“Well then, how about this?” Arness offered. “We can say ‘Babel has sown far more seeds of tyranny and suffering than our father Suoh-Yuuto. We could not sit idly by and let this happen, so we have returned! All who are fed up with the current regime, unite under our banner, for it is now Babel’s turn to receive his comeuppance!’ or something like that. People would probably change their opinion and come flocking to our cause, just as water gathers where it’s the most shallow.”

“I’m in awe that you were able to come up with a speech like that on the fly,” Nozomu replied with a wry smile. He felt a stir deep within his chest. “That ability to think on his feet was most definitely inherited from dad," he thought. “You know, I get the feeling you would make a better reginarch than I would.” He knew how lame it’d sounded even as he said it, but he couldn’t help but say it anyway. To Nozomu, Arness was the most like Yuuto out of all his siblings, and the one most fit to rule. On top of already being fit and incredibly athletic, he’d learned clerical work under Linnea, military strategy under Fagrahvel, and espionage under Kristina. Not only that, he had excelled in every one of them. There was nothing Arness could do that Nozomu was able to do better, so Nozomu’s inferiority complex flared up every time he was around.

“Nah, no way. You’re clearly far more suited for it than me,” Arness replied. He vehemently disagreed with what Nozomu was suggesting.

“Really? Sure doesn’t seem like it,” Nozomu said.

“You’re the only one who thinks that way, Big Bro. You’re undoubtedly reginarch material. Everyone knows it. Right, guys?” Arness glanced over at Rungr and Wiz. The two nodded emphatically as if they were just as certain, but Nozomu couldn’t see their reactions as anything but deference to Arness, and it did nothing to ease the unrest in his heart.

“What?! Dellingr Fortress has fallen?!”

His envoy’s report roused the man from his slumber, the shock of the news immediately jolting him awake. He was in his early thirties, and he had virile facial features, the most striking of which was a scar cut sideways across his cheek; however, his sharp, upturned eyes and permanent scowl were no less intimidating. His name was Babel, and he was the second reginarch of the Steel Clan.

“Is it those savages to the east? I suppose that Arete bastard was all talk in the end?” Babel snorted with a click of his tongue. Arete was one of Babel’s four Dragon Generals, handpicked and trained by Babel himself. He’d seen promise in the man and had entrusted him with defending the eastern border, but it seemed he hadn’t been worth a damn in the end.

“No, sir, the enemy didn’t come from land, but the sea...” the envoy replied.

“What?!” His expression, calm up until now, contorted into one of shock as he whipped around to face the envoy. The face of a certain black-haired man passed through his mind. “It couldn’t be... The Noah?'.”

“Yes, the vessel is identical to the one the previous reginarch used,” the envoy explained.

“I knew it!” Babel gritted his teeth hard. He’d heard from Jorgen that Yuuto and his family were using the ship to trade around the Orient. He must’ve heard about the situation here in Tarshish and come to investigate. “Well, I knew this day would come eventually.” After a long sigh, Babel regained his composure and grinned.

He was, of course, well aware that the current state of the Steel Clan wasn’t at all how Yuuto had envisioned it. However, there was a reason for that.

At first, Babel had had every intention of upholding Yuuto’s ideals. But in reality, ideals weren’t enough to run a country. In the first place, why did someone chosen by the gods like Babel have to worry himself with every little quibble of the ignorant masses? “It should be the opposite,” he thought. Wasn’t survival of the fittest supposed to be the universal, unshakable tenet of Yggdrasilian life? He was only following the natural order of things. Yuuto had been the odd one out for putting the needs of the people first.

“Looks like I’m going to have to make him regret this choice.” He’d been in Yuuto’s service for nearly ten years, and he knew the man’s personality well. After Babel had come to learn how things should be and began setting things right, he had anticipated Yuuto would eventually emerge to scold him for not following his predecessor’s ways. Babel had already prepared thoroughly for the occasion.

A vicious grin crept across his face, revealing his canines, as he issued his order. “Send word to the patriarchs in every region to mobilize. We’ll crush Suoh-Yuuto with everything we’ve got!”

“Oh, what do we have here? A pair of manifestos, huh?” the elderly man said in amusement, rubbing his now-bald head. To anyone who had known him in the past, he might have seemed thinner and more fragile, but the glint in his narrow eyes was just as sharp as it had been in his prime.

The man’s name was Botvid—the biological father of Albertina and Kristina. He was a wily master of information-gathering and the former patriarch of the Claw Clan. Although he’d been an invaluable member of Yuuto’s team, he was the kind of man that Yuuto had never been able to let his guard down around. Not even for a second.

With his advanced age finally catching up with him, he’d stepped away from the front lines and was currently enjoying a leisurely life of retirement—at least, he was until his solace was rudely interrupted. The current Claw Clan patriarch, Bavorr, had suddenly burst into his quarters in a panic, carrying two clay tablets.

“It seems one’s from Babel, and the other is from Lord Nozomu,” Botvid murmured.

“Right. I’d already received word that Dellingr Fortress had fallen, but which side should we take?” Bavorr asked. “In the first place, is this really from Lord Nozomu? Someone could’ve used his name to falsify...”

“It’s real,” Botvid said without hesitation, pointing to the insignia etched on the bottom of the clay tablet. He’d seen it so many times, he could never mistake it for anything else or forget what it signified. “This is the genuine seal of the Jijodann. Moreover, I’d already heard from Jorgen and Kris that Lord Nozomu was here.”

“What?! Then why didn’t you inform me?!”

“Because you didn’t ask. I’m just an adviser, Bavorr, and I have no interest in getting involved with topics I’m not asked to advise on,” Botvid replied with a cackle.

Bavorr’s shoulders went slack with defeat. “Normally, I’d welcome that stance, considering the trouble it’d cause me otherwise, but I can’t deny I’m a bit upset that you kept something this important to yourself.”

“If it was important enough, I knew you’d come to talk to me about it anyway,” Botvid said dismissively.

“So, everything was within your predictions.” Bavorr shook his head as if to say he couldn’t hold a candle to Botvid. “What should we do then?!” He seemed desperate, as though he’d been worrying himself over it all this time and was now at the end of his rope.

“Hmm... Let’s see,” Botvid muttered. He put his hand to his chin as if he were seriously thinking about it, but inwardly, he smirked in satisfaction. Bavorr was a perfectly capable man when everything was going smoothly, but he was woefully indecisive in a crisis. However, that was precisely why Botvid had appointed him as his successor. By taking advantage of Bavorr’s weakness, Botvid could manipulate him, allowing Botvid to retain his hold on the clan’s reins even from behind the scenes. He wasn’t the sort to relinquish his power so easily, and it was times like these that justified that decision. “I’d put my money on Lord Nozomu. It’s the Claw Clan’s mantra to always get behind the winning horse, remember?”

“So you think Lord Nozomu will win? Is that because of the authority he holds as the Jijodann?” Bavorr asked.

“Well, it’s certainly a factor we should keep in mind, but not the deciding one,” Botvid replied. The position of Jijodann had already lost the reverence it had enjoyed in Yggdrasil. Even in light of that, making a claim to the seat of the Jijodann still functioned well enough as a justification for war. However, if merely bearing the title was enough to win, then it would be considered a much larger military threat and not just an ornamental piece.

“Then is it because Babel rules with an iron fist, ignoring the well-being of the people?”

“Not especially. Father Yuuto was a bit odd in that regard. It’s far more typical to rule using intimidation to instill fear in the people’s hearts,” Botvid explained in a flat and uninterested tone. He didn’t especially hold any affection for the masses—he only really saw them as tools to gain wealth. The only reason his own rule had been a benevolent one was because he knew if he’d squeezed the Claw Clan’s population too hard, their dissatisfaction would have escalated into a rebellion, which would have been disadvantageous to the clan as a whole. From Botvid’s perspective, Babel had done a marvelous job striking a balance, keeping his subjects’ dissatisfaction at bay just enough to where they weren’t inclined to revolt.

“Then, Lord Nozomu’s skill...?” Bavorr asked.

“Not that either. In terms of raw talent, Nozomu pales in comparison to his father,” Botvid replied. Up until Nozomu had turned fourteen, Botvid had been thoroughly observing him in secret, evaluating him to see if he had the stuff to become the next Jijodann. While Nozomu was the likable sort—honest and diligent, with good morals—he’d shown no signs of possessing the talent his father had.

When Yuuto had been fourteen, Botvid had heard that he’d gotten into an argument with the higher-ups of the Wolf Clan despite having just been whisked away to an unfamiliar, foreign land. That dogged stubbornness and combative personality of his was, of course, unsuited to being a member of a group. His sworn father and instructors had probably written him off as useless back then, but Botvid had learned firsthand over the years that the ability to believe in one’s own convictions and have the confidence to convince others as well—to the point that it could even be confused with arrogance or pride—was an indispensable skill for a leader. As far as Botvid had seen, Nozomu showed no signs of possessing anything similar to that.

“Then what on earth could it be?” Bavorr asked.

“I’ve been called many things over the years, Bavorr. ‘Heartless,’ ‘underhanded’. . .‘oath breaker’ on a number of occasions. Well, anyway, there are more than a few people who’d relish seeing my head on a pike.”

“Uh-huh...” Bavorr affirmed vaguely, his eyes not meeting Botvid’s gaze as though he was unsure how to respond. It was as if he couldn’t deny it, but he was too concerned about their respective positions within the clan to agree. “That’s why you’ll never be a proper patriarch,” Botvid thought to himself, a subtle smirk creeping onto his face.

“But,” Botvid continued, “even an unscrupulous bastard like me had an ironclad rule I made sure to uphold at all costs.”

“And what would that be?” Bavorr inquired.

“Never antagonize Suoh-Yuuto,” Botvid replied, his lips curling up into a sly grin. Naturally, he didn’t do so out of loyalty—that was far too admirable a trait for Botvid to possess. No, the reason he’d never made an enemy of Yuuto was much simpler—he wouldn’t be able to win against him.

“The war god Suoh-Yuuto wins every battle he fights,” Botvid explained. “Even during the war against the powerful Flame Clan, he strategized to improve his chances of winning; then, when he saw his moment, he clinched the victory.”

“I am well aware. I was also present at the time and witnessed the feat in all its splendor. I remember the genius of it all made me tremble in my boots,” Bavorr replied, nodding strongly in agreement. At the time, he’d been in Gladsheimr, commanding the Claw Clan Army in Botvid’s stead. Since he’d seen it up close, he had to have known Yuuto’s strength firsthand, which saved Botvid from having to explain and meant they could move on with the conversation.

“Anyway, that war god, who is well-known for being disgustingly sweet on his friends and family, sent his own son out here. What do you think that means?”

“...Now that you mention it, that’s pretty solid proof.” After a gasp of realization, a grin crossed Bavorr’s face. It seemed he was convinced, and as long as he was, that was all that mattered to Botvid.

“Yo, Lord Nozomu. Longtime no see.”

“Haugspori?! Is it really you?” When Nozomu saw the unexpected guest who had come into his office, Nozomu stood up so fast that he sent his chair clattering to the floor. 

Haugspori was the current patriarch of the Horn Clan and was at one time the Steel Clan’s best bowman. His deeds in the wars of Yggdrasil were still talked about even to this day. Nozomu had received archery lessons from Haugspori every now and then as a child, and Haugspori’s casual, cheery attitude had been a source of respite for Nozomu on more than a few occasions. In short, Nozomu was quite fond of Haugspori.

“I just came here to tell you that I’m placing a thousand of our finest Horn Clan men under your command,” Haugspori explained.

“Really? Wow, that’s a big help!” Nozomu was so grateful that he ended up taking Haugspori’s hand. At present, Nozomu’s army was woefully sparse and at a major disadvantage. His authority as Jijodann was inconsequential with that in mind. Despite the odds being stacked against Nozomu, however, Haugspori had come running to Nozomu’s rescue without the slightest hesitation. That in itself made Nozomu glad beyond belief.

“Ha ha, looks like you’ve grown quite a bit since I last saw you, Lord Nozomu.”

“Well, it’s been five years, after all. Unfortunately, about the only aspect of me that’s grown is my height.”

“Nah, it’s not just your height. Just by looking at your face, I can tell you’ve matured quite a lot too. Looks like you’ve gotten some good life experience under your belt.”

“I...hope that’s true.” Nozomu smiled broadly. Haugspori was always frivolous with women, but not with men, so Nozomu knew it wasn’t just lip service. Nozomu had tried as hard as he could over the past five years. If all that effort was evident just by looking at his face, that honestly relieved Nozomu. “What about you, though? You haven’t changed a bit. You still look just as young as ever.” Haugspori should’ve been pushing fifty by now, but his face still looked just as young, his body just as muscular, and his skin just as healthy as it had when they’d first met. If someone had told Nozomu that Haugspori was still in his thirties, he’d believe it.

“Hah! Well, you know, gotta look good for the ladies. The minute they think I’m some decrepit old man, it’s over.” He flashed a grin, showing off shiny white teeth. It seemed his playboy nature was also alive and well. Nozomu was glad to see the man still so full of vim and vigor.

“Did you say Haugspori’s here?!” The door flew open, and Arness came barreling into the room.

“Yo, Arness! Good to see you, buddy! Wow, looks like you’ve grown too!” When Haugspori saw Arness, he looked elated—more so than he had when he’d seen Nozomu. Even his tone was friendlier. But there was nothing Nozomu could do about that—after all, Haugspori had been in the service of Linnea, Arness’s mother, for many, many years.

“I know, right?! Bet I’m even taller than you right now, shorty!” In response, Arness, who was always so polite, did an about-face with Haugspori and spoke candidly.

“Ha ha ha! So you’d think! But I’m still taller!”

“Oh yeah? You wanna find out for sure?” Arness shot back.

“It’d be my pleasure.”

The two grinned boldly at each other. They really did get along well—perhaps even better than Arness did with his father, Yuuto.

“All right, let’s save all that for later,” Nozomu cut in, clapping his hands to get them back on track. As great as it was that he’d just been given a thousand Horn Clan troops, they were still at a distinct disadvantage. He wanted to pick the great commander Haugspori’s brain about the next course of action they should take. It definitely had nothing to do with the fact that he was feeling left out—honest!

“So, it would seem the old clans like the Wolf and Horn Clans have joined Nozomu, and the former Asgardians and citizens of Jotunheimr are rallying to Babel’s side. Practically an even split,” Yuuto muttered, flipping through the report Kristina had handed him. He was currently at sea...or so he’d wanted Nozomu to believe, but he’d actually holed up in Jorgen’s mansion. After pretending to depart on the Noah, he and a select few of his allies had taken up residence here instead to watch over the situation as it developed. In the end, even though he’d done his duty as a parent and booted his children out of the nest, he cared for his family too much to completely abandon them.

“Nozomu has around four thousand troops, and Babel’s army is almost twice that at roughly eight thousand,” Kristina corrected.

“Basically what we estimated before the battle, then,” Yuuto replied, unconcerned. All had gone according to his expectations up until now. The problem was what would happen from here on out.

“Babel still has the upper hand in terms of numbers,” Yuuto continued. “Now then, it’s about time for Nozomu to show his stuff.”

“About that, Father. It seems Babel hasn’t made a move,” Kristina replied.

“Huh?” Blinking in confusion, Yuuto turned to face Kristina. He’d been certain Babel would head straight for Nozomu without hesitation. “But isn’t he the type to charge right in and flatten all who oppose him?”

“Honestly, it’s not really all that surprising that he’s being cautious. He’s up against the war god Suoh-Yuuto, after all,” Kristina said with a sigh of exasperation.

“But I’m not participating in this fight,” Yuuto replied.

“Babel has no way of knowing that.”

“Ah, right. I guess not.” Babel was likely holding off from making any big moves because he was too wary of Yuuto, who had not yet shown himself but who could appear anytime, anywhere without warning. Of course, it was the height of foolishness to fear an opponent who didn’t actually exist, but it wasn’t like Babel wanted to gamble with those sorts of odds. “Well, it makes sense, but that does make the situation a tad more complicated.” Yuuto groaned as he put a hand on his chin.

Truthfully, this development was outside his calculations. He didn’t think a short-tempered powerhouse like Babel would stand for the subordinate clans under him revolting, and Yuuto had figured he’d want to deal the decisive blow as quickly as possible. However, it seemed like the man had learned some restraint in the past five years.

“Yes, I think this deadlock will persist if things continue the way they are,” Kristina said.

“Hopefully not, if we can help it.” Even though he was strictly hands-off this time, Yuuto was still quite attached to this country and its people. It was common for wars to drag on for long periods of time, but the longer the chaos lasted, the more ravaged the land would become, which would cause the people to suffer. Yuuto wanted to wrap this up before that happened, if at all possible.

“Hmm. You think Babel’s afraid of me, Kris?” Yuuto asked.

“I would put money on it,” she replied.

“Well then, that makes this simple.” A malicious grin crossed his face.

“What are you scheming now, Father?”

“Scheming’s an awfully strong word. What do you think I am, a villain?”

“How many years do you think I’ve known you at this point? That expression on your face tells me you’re up to no good.” Kristina gave a resigned shrug. As he’d expected from his longtime partner in wit and wiles, she’d seen right through him. He merely smirked.

“Kris, if you don’t mind, can I get you to run a little errand for me?” he said.