Wortenia Senki (LN) - Volume 27 - Chapter Ep

Epilogue

The port town of Birminghen in the Kingdom of Brittantia was close to the border with the Kingdom of Tarja. Among the ports scattered along the Brittantian coastline, it was one of the foremost fishing hubs and was a supply station for maritime trade in the southern region of the western continent, making it a vital economic pillar of the kingdom. Naturally, Birminghen boasted one of the highest populations in the southern territories. The location was also known for the intense battles fought over it. For Brittantia, the town was strategically significant both economically and militarily.

In the bustling streets, sailors from trading ships roamed, seeking solace in alcohol and women. From time to time, the off-key singing of drunken men and the coquettish laughter of barmaids echoed through the air. In contrast to this lively atmosphere, an inconspicuous inn stood quietly in a back alley of Birminghen. Few ventured to visit this dilapidated establishment, but there were always those with peculiar tastes. One man, in particular, ascended the creaky wooden stairs of the run-down inn. Each step he took elicited a loud protest from the worn wooden stairs. One might generously describe them as “well used,” but most would likely call them old and rickety; they were on the verge of splintering with every step. The man was Kusuda Tomohiro, and fate had somehow summoned this police officer to this world. Now, he worked covertly as a member of the Organization operating in the western continent.

Despite Kusuda deploying a trump card known as Alexis Duran, secretly nurtured by the Organization, he had failed to accomplish his ultimate mission of eliminating Ryoma Mikoshiba. Kusuda was now disgraced. His destination was a room on the third floor, where Akitake Sudou, a senior member of the Organization, awaited him. His footsteps grew heavier with each step.

“Still, this level of disguise is quite meticulous,” Kusuda muttered. The only response to the unremarkable comment was the creaking of the staircase beneath him. Or perhaps it’s less of a disguise and more a case of just acquiring an already decrepit inn?

Kusuda lightly ran a finger along the banister, pulling it back to inspect the white dust clinging to it.

But if they don’t even bother to clean, no one’s likely to come here.

The Organization had prepared several bases in Birminghen, including The Sea Dragon’s Rest. Although the name evoked strength and valor, the inn itself was anything but. Nestled in a remote alley where even locals rarely trod, the inn offered no distinguishing features like a tavern or a brothel. Its most notable trait was its sheer lack of redeeming qualities.

Its deficiencies are endless.

In its grimy state, the inn ranked several notches below its competitors on the main street. The only apparent merits were its low fees and the consistent availability of rooms. Yet these traits held little appeal for most visitors to Birminghen.

Merchants, their hired guards, or sailors from trading ships are the typical guests at inns in this port town.

Most visitors carried substantial sums of money from completed transactions or freshly received wages. Sailors, in particular, rarely had opportunities to spend their earnings while at sea.

After all, there’s little to spend on when you’re living aboard a ship. That much is obvious.

Regular crew members rarely enjoyed private quarters. They typically slept in hammocks strung in the hold or wedged their bodies into gaps between cargo. Privacy was a luxury unheard of in such conditions.

This world’s currency is also coin-based, which adds to the trouble. Unlike paper bills, coins are bulky.

Carrying around months’ worth of wages while working aboard a swaying ship wasn’t practical. Should a sailor fall overboard, the weight of the coins would certainly seal their fate. Hence, sailors typically received their wages upon reaching port, allowing the ship’s owner to settle payments with the proceeds from selling goods. This arrangement was both logical and practical. Recognizing the sailors’ circumstances, Birminghen’s residents eagerly awaited the arrival of trading ships. They prepared tirelessly to welcome the seafarers, offering temptations ranging from alcohol, warm meals, and gambling to the comfort of soft, warm beds.

For sailors who had endured the grueling hardships of sea life, these indulgences were irresistible. And so, it was unthinkable for such men to willingly lodge in a shabby, desolate inn like The Sea Dragon’s Rest.

This world’s voyages are said to be especially grueling.

Hard biscuits, salted meat, and bean soup were the only foods available on ships, unlike the luxurious cruises of modern society. Occasionally, pickled cabbage made an appearance. Such monotonous meals could last weeks or even months for intercontinental traders.

Of course, knowing how to prevent scurvy makes it somewhat better than Europe’s Age of Discovery. Still, I wouldn’t want to live like that.

The twentieth century had unveiled the mystery of scurvy; but centuries earlier, sailors had only a vague understanding that fresh produce prevented the disease. In comparison, sailors in this world possessed slightly more advanced knowledge.

Why am I even thinking about this? Kusuda questioned himself as he climbed, realizing he had no reason to care about the inn’s success or the economic prosperity of Birminghen. Still, such idle thoughts distracted him from the reality of his situation. Like an office worker headed to their manager to report a major blunder, Kusuda sought escape in trivial musings to keep himself from bolting. Another loud groan from the stairs interrupted his reflection, startling him. This staircase is practically an entire haunted house on its own. But then again, they clearly aren’t trying to attract customers.

At last, he reached the door of the corner room on the third floor and hesitated for a moment. Summoning his resolve, he lightly knocked.

“Come in. It’s unlocked,” replied a calm voice from inside.

Taking a deep breath, Kusuda opened the door.

“Excuse me,” Kusuda said, stepping inside as he was immediately struck by the opulence of the room. What the...?

The contrast between the inn’s decrepit exterior and this resplendent chamber was staggering. Plush red carpets, possibly Persian, covered the floor, while a chandelier hung from the ceiling, and velvet curtains adorned the windows.

It’s like stepping into a royal office. How much money went into this? Kusuda could scarcely believe the sheer luxury. Despite the grandeur, the decor felt harmonious rather than ostentatious.

“Ah, Kusuda,” said Akitake Sudou, breaking Kusuda’s reverie. Sudou, seated leisurely on a sofa by the window, gestured warmly. “Come, sit. Let’s wet our throats a bit before we get to your report.”

Kusuda hesitated.

The man seems calm, perhaps even cheerful. But that makes it all the more unnerving.

Suppressing his anxiety, Kusuda took a seat across from his superior. The weight of the impending conversation hung heavy in the air.

Sudou cast a probing glance at Kusuda, akin to a cat toying with a mouse. Caught by that gaze, Kusuda involuntarily gulped. He must have felt, in his very skin, that he had reached a crossroads that could literally determine his life or death. A heavy, oppressive silence filled the room. When Sudou let out a cheerful laugh, that atmosphere dispersed like mist.

“And as for the evaluation results, which I’m sure are your biggest concern... Well, I believe the outcome is more than sufficient to pass.”

Kusuda sighed and slumped his shoulders at those unexpected words.

“Sufficient to pass, you say...”

It was hard to tell whether he was relieved that his life had been spared or lamenting that he only managed to achieve a passing score.

In response to Kusuda’s reaction, Sudou nodded as if pleased and said, “Even though you were once a police officer, Kusuda, you have practically no experience with nationwide strategies or schemes. Despite that, you successfully separated the Kingdom of Myest from the four-kingdom alliance, clearly achieving the strategic goal. In fact Duran’s report highly commends you. Things didn’t go exactly as we had planned, so I can’t say you earned a perfect score. But we were able to confirm a few of their hidden cards, and overall, the outcome was either breaking even or being slightly profitable.”

Upon hearing those words, Kusuda’s face twisted in discomfort. It was a relief that his abilities weren’t being judged solely on the outcome of his schemes, but Kusuda’s pride wouldn’t allow him to simply take advantage of that fact.

And besides, Sudou’s evaluation is accurate...

Kusuda understood the reason for the lack of a perfect score better than anyone else.

“Yes, I never expected Ryoma Mikoshiba to abandon the defense of Jermuk so quickly and retreat from the Kingdom of Myest’s territory. What’s more, he used the pretext of evacuating Jermuk’s residents to slow down General Duran’s march toward it... I had considered the possibility that Ryoma Mikoshiba would see through our intentions and retreat, but I never imagined he would so decisively abandon the rescue of Myest.”

“From Mikoshiba’s perspective, it’s natural. He couldn’t afford to fall before sending reinforcements to the Kingdom of Xarooda, so it’s only to be expected, I suppose...” responded Sudou.

Kusuda nodded deeply.

In truth, Kusuda honestly wanted to ask Ryoma Mikoshiba what reasoning had allowed him to recognize General Duran as an enemy. Sudou seemingly shared the same thought.

“Ryoma Mikoshiba’s ability to make quick decisions and take bold actions is almost abnormal. Is it talent or something from his education? Either way, I’ve had my fair share of trouble with him myself.”

Kusuda said, “His grandfather, Koichiro Mikoshiba, is no ordinary man either...”

“Yes. You may not know this, but Koichiro Mikoshiba was a hero who made tremendous contributions to the Organization and is well-known to the current elders. He shouldn’t have been able to return to Rearth after escaping, but somehow, he did. He’s one of those lucky individuals. Given that he was summoned back to this world, maybe ‘lucky’ isn’t the right word.”

“That’s true. I don’t know the details, as I only heard a little about it at the time... But I wouldn’t be surprised. When Tachibana and I were summoned to the Kingdom of Beldzevia with Asuka Kiryu, I witnessed that old man’s greatness firsthand. To think someone was raised by such a monster...”

“Like father, like son. I suppose the grandson of a monster would also be a monster,” said Sudou.

Kusuda nodded deeply.

No matter how dangerous Misha Fontaine, the assistant court thaumaturgist of the Kingdom of Beldzevia, had been in her attempts to harm Asuka Kiryu, the act of severing a person’s arm without hesitation was far from something a normal person would do. In modern society, very few people could attack others without hesitation to such an extreme. This behavior was not because of the so-called peace bubble and criticism aimed at Japanese people or their inability to cope with such situations. When faced with the extraordinary situation of being summoned to another world, how many people could make the best decision and act on it in the shortest amount of time?

But it seems that his grandson did something similar in the O’ltormea Empire. Kusuda had heard about this after joining the Organization. With the limited means of communication in this world, it would be difficult to judge how accurate the information was. Even if the more impressive stories were taken with a grain of salt, the fact remained that grandfather and grandson were extraordinary individuals. Are they madmen or heroes? Either way, they aren’t ordinary people.

At this point, Kusuda had no idea which category Ryoma Mikoshiba belonged to. The answer would arrive on the day of history’s judgment. Kusuda was forced to acknowledge this, though it rankled his pride to do so.

That said, I can’t imagine myself doing what that man did. At least, it’s clear that my power didn’t allow me to escape from the Kingdom of Beldzevia.

Kusuda’s rigorous training as a police officer included techniques like judo and kendo, which were necessary to fight criminals. In that sense, he could resist more effectively than a complete amateur who knew nothing of combat. The judo and subdual techniques that a police officer learned were martial arts, but their primary purpose is to restrain criminals, not to kill or maim enemies. A strike might accidentally hit vital areas like the eyes or the groin, but officers wouldn’t intentionally aim for those parts of the body. When they applied joint locks, they didn’t go so far as to break bones. Law-abiding citizens and human rights lawyers would subject a police officer to harsh criticism if they were to kill or maim a criminal.

A police officer must apprehend a rebellious and dangerous criminal as safely as possible, even if it means putting their own life in danger.

This was the common sense and justice that everyone believed in within modern society. In order to achieve that ideal, officers must take on unnecessary risks. Some individuals thought they could disregard public servants’ human rights. This idea had undoubtedly permeated into the core of the people who held such public service positions, like police officers. Due to the nature of Kusuda’s profession, he tried to subdue the soldiers of the Kingdom of Beldzevia without harming them when summoned to this world.

Upon reflection, it was nothing but foolishness.

Violence wasn’t a cure-all, and one should avoid using it if possible, but there were situations in which violence was the only solution. In avoiding the use of violence, one could put themselves or their friends in danger. Most people either turned a blind eye to this fact or refrained from voicing it due to fear of opposition, even if they understood it. But Koichiro Mikoshiba and his grandson were different.

They choose the actions they believe are necessary without hesitation, even if those actions go against ethics or morals, thought Kusuda. This undeniable fact forced him to realize that those two were fundamentally different from him. I don’t want to believe it’s just a difference in talent or capability.

The difference was understandable with Koichiro, but Ryoma was younger than Kusuda. Although he understood that looking down on a younger person was a petty matter of pride and ego, it was undeniably difficult to admit that a younger man had accomplished something that he himself could not. Kusuda knew that even if he were in the same position as Ryoma, he would not have been able to overcome such dire straits in the same way. He refused to accept this despite understanding the matter logically, which was the troubling nature of being human.

Well, I can only do my best with what I have.

Kusuda knew he lacked the dragonlike claws or tigerlike fangs to mercilessly strike down enemies as Ryoma Mikoshiba had. But he also had his own irreplaceable weapon, which he wondered when to use. So, he asked Sudou about his role going forward.

“By the way... Since I passed the test, may I confirm my next steps? Should I continue monitoring and obstructing the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy?” asked Kusuda.

Sudou, likely sensing Kusuda’s conflicted feelings, nodded and smiled.

“Yes, that’s the plan. I arranged for you to meet with General Duran to prepare for this. With the recent developments, he has returned to the public stage, which will inevitably restrict his actions. I would like you to assist in managing that situation. Knowing Ryoma Mikoshiba, he will likely make his next move very soon.”

Because Kusuda anticipated this answer, he voiced his current expectations.

“I see. There are two likely outcomes: either he collaborates with Cassandra Hellner through Ecclesia Marinelle to seize control of the Kingdom of Myest, or he abandons it and moves to reinforce the Kingdom of Xarooda... Right?”

Sudou nodded with satisfaction as though Kusuda’s assessment matched his own.

“Indeed... Logically speaking, those are the only two viable options. Of course, if the Kingdom of Helnesgoula were to take action, Mikoshiba’s choices would expand. Unfortunately, it’s almost impossible for that nation to dispatch reinforcements to another country at the moment,” said Sudou, grinning with a hint of malice.

Kusuda cast a probing glance at him. “I heard that the reason Helnesgoula hasn’t shown any movement is because the Organization has been buying up food supplies, making logistics untenable. Kikukawa managed a trading company tied to the Organization and bought a significant amount of food, yes?”

The Kingdom of Helnesgoula, which held the largest military force among the four-kingdom alliance, had not taken any action since the O’ltormea Empire invaded the Kingdom of Xarooda again.

The main reason was simple: it could not secure sufficient food supplies. Despite this world’s unique logic and laws, the need to ensure food and armaments for army mobilization persisted.

“Yes, Helnesgoula has never been particularly strong in agriculture. While it hasn’t starved its citizens, sending a large-scale expeditionary force to another country requires preparation. They can defend their own territory without issue, but sending significant reinforcements abroad is impossible.”

One could say the military was like a massive, insatiable money-eating monster that constantly consumed food and weapons.

And if it couldn’t be fed properly, that enormous monster would soon starve, leaving it incapable of functioning.

During World War II, the Japanese military had failed to secure proper logistics, leading to the starvation and death of many soldiers. This was a simple enough concept for even Kusuda, who wasn’t knowledgeable about military affairs, to grasp.

Kusuda replied, “The vast Dorsch Desert occupies nearly one-tenth of that nation’s central territory. Right now, it’s the season when sandstorms are more likely to occur. Dispatching a force large enough to counter the O’ltormea Empire’s army to the Kingdom of Xarooda would be physically challenging, to say the least.”

In war, success depended on three factors: timing, terrain, and unity. However, the Kingdom of Helnesgoula currently lacked the element of timing. The First Princess of O’ltormea, Shardina Eisenheit, had received this information, which was especially valuable to her since she had been forced to retreat during the previous invasion of Xarooda. It presented her with a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. That was precisely why the O’ltormea Empire decided to break its armistice with the Kingdom of Xarooda and launch an invasion. Every decision had been based on the understanding that the Kingdom of Helnesgoula would be unable to act.

At this very moment, the fate of the western continent’s political landscape rested in the hands of an unremarkable middle-aged man.

“So, all of this was part of your plan. What a terrifying person,” said Kusuda. To him, Akitake Sudou was nothing short of an eerie and intimidating figure. Who is this man? Even though the question stirred uneasily within Kusuda’s heart, Sudou was his savior. I know he’s a high-ranking member of the Organization. The elders trust him deeply, and he wields considerable authority within the group.

Without such trust and authority, it would be impossible for him to maneuver so freely. After all, his schemes were significant enough to rewrite the power balance of the western continent. Unless he had unwavering support from the upper echelons, his plans wouldn’t have even been considered, let alone implemented. But Akitake Sudou was more than that. Sudou had infiltrated the upper ranks of the O’ltormea Empire and even served as an aide to Shardina Eisenheit. That level of achievement was beyond the reach of someone summoned to this world just yesterday or today. No matter how capable one might be, it would require a significant amount of time to earn a position such as aide to a princess. Even if someone could secure the role, gaining her trust would not come easily.

Beyond that, there’s the story about how he once infiltrated the royal court of the Kingdom of Rhoadseria. He’s also said to have been acquainted with Alexis Duran, who had spent decades undercover in Myest. Yet some of his remarks suggest he also possesses considerable knowledge about modern Japan. The timeline doesn’t add up...

Of course, Sudou might have merely heard such information from other summoned individuals. Perhaps due to his experience as a police officer, Kusuda was a man with sharp observational skills. From his perspective, Sudou’s knowledge seemed far too detailed to be something he had only heard secondhand. Yet when Kusuda voiced this thought, Sudou simply shook his head.

“Oh, it’s not as impressive as you’re imagining. Besides, while things have gone according to plan so far, there are still uncertainties.”

“Are you referring to Ryoma Mikoshiba?” asked Kusuda.

“Yes, him. Knowing him, there’s always the possibility he’ll devise a strategy that catches us by surprise. It’s best not to let our guard down.”

Kusuda found Sudou’s tone odd, prompting him to say, “It almost sounds like you’re hoping for something unexpected from him.”

In response, Sudou shrugged casually.

“Well, there’s some history between us. From the Organization’s standpoint, it would be better if he exited the stage sooner rather than later. Personally, I can’t help but be intrigued by his actions. There’s so little in this world in the way of entertainment or amusement, wouldn’t you agree?”

With that, Sudou poured the remaining Screaming Eagle wine from the decanter into his and Kusuda’s empty glasses.

“Well then, let’s end on a toast to your future success, Kusuda.”

He raised his glass lightly, inviting Kusuda to do the same.

“Thank you.”

The two drank from their glasses in one go as if savoring the beginning of a new chapter. Perhaps it was the confidence of those who held an overwhelming advantage. But what they didn’t know was that at that very moment, Ryoma Mikoshiba had already begun taking action to overcome the challenges ahead.