Wortenia Senki (LN) - Volume 29 - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: The Dawn of the Purge

Around past three in the morning of the following day, before dawn had broken, a group advanced down the luxurious red carpet covering a corridor of the royal castle. Leading them was Grahart Henschel, the captain of the Xarooda’s Royal Guard, accompanied by four elite knights under his command. Behind them walked Joshua Belares, the young hero of the Kingdom of Xarooda and a man the nation took great pride in. Beside him followed Lione, a redheaded mercenary.

Up to this point, nothing seemed particularly unusual. It was late at night, but everyone present was either a person of great influence within the Kingdom of Xarooda or a high-ranking ally dispatched by the noble Mikoshiba Grand Duchy. However, the presence of the figure trailing them shattered that impression like a mirage dissipating in the heat. He was a strikingly handsome man with long silver hair flowing over his dark skin. His beauty and air of strength would undoubtedly draw the gaze of all who saw him. Despite that allure, few would dare approach him of their own volition, for he was not a being of this world. Eventually, Grahart came to a halt.

“This is the place... Enter,” Grahart instructed.

He ordered the guards on either side of the door to open it, ushering the group inside. The room was quite large. Every piece of furniture placed within had been handcrafted by master artisans, a testament to the high status of the room’s owner. Amid the opulent setting, Joshua strode toward the bed positioned at the room’s center.

“Lord Joshua! What brings you here at this hour? What in the world is happening?” fretted the maid who had been sitting beside Julianus’s bed, rising to her feet. Her reaction was natural because her duty was to be vigilant in Julianus’s presence.

However, Joshua raised a hand to silence the maid’s protest, gesturing for her to stand in the corner of the room. His demeanor left no room for argument.

“Nelcius, can you really heal him?”

Joshua glared at Nelcius, who stood by the bedside. In his eyes flickered the embers of deep-seated distrust that could only belong to someone who had placed his faith in doctors, only to be betrayed time and time again. Under normal circumstances, this emotion had no place in the relationship between a healer and the loved ones of the afflicted. If one did not trust a doctor, there was no need for hesitation. One could simply seek another. Yet, Joshua’s reaction was not entirely unreasonable.

Since the beginning of the O’ltormea Empire’s second invasion of the Kingdom of Xarooda, countless renowned physicians had examined the bedridden Julianus. Medical professionals from the Kingdom of Xarooda, the Holy Qwiltantia Empire, and the Holy City of Menestia had been summoned at great expense. And yet, every single one of those so-called master healers had admitted defeat. The reason was painfully simple. None of them could explain the abnormality afflicting Julianus’s body. At first, poisoning was suspected. However, medical examinations had already ruled out arsenic or other known toxins. Moreover, Julianus had always taken precautions against assassination. He dined using enchanted tableware designed to detect poison, and his meals were always tasted in advance by a maid. Considering this, the possibility that he had been poisoned seemed highly unlikely.

If not poison, then what? The doctors insisted it was not an illness either. At the very least, no known treatments had proven effective, rendering even the greatest physicians powerless. All they could do was attempt to ease his suffering, but the results had been nothing short of tragic. What had begun as a mild cough gradually worsened. His breathing grew labored, and before long, he could no longer even eat properly.

By now, Julianus could no longer even rise from his sickbed. His already slender frame had withered away to the point of resembling a mummy, a direct result of his inability to eat properly. His daily sustenance consisted of nothing more than grated apples and other fruits diluted with water and trickled down his throat. Given such circumstances, his skeletal appearance was inevitable.

Julianus had already fallen into a critical state, completely unconscious. Even in his extreme frailty, his abdomen remained unnaturally swollen—an eerie and unnatural sight.

“Well? Nelcius, can you heal him?” repeated Joshua.

Ignoring Joshua’s sharp gaze, Nelcius quietly placed his hands on Julianus’s body as a form of physical examination. After a moment, Nelcius finally spoke.

“Hmm... Just as I thought.”

From his expression, his suspicions had been confirmed. Nelcius reached into a prepared leather pouch, retrieving a tobacco pipe, an unfamiliar wooden branch, and dried leaves from some unknown plant. Under the watchful eyes of Joshua and the others, he drew a knife from his waist and shaved the branch into fine slivers. Once he had reduced the wood to small chips, he crumbled the dried leaves in his palm and packed them into the pipe’s bowl.

“There. Now, let’s begin the treatment.”

With a silent incantation, Nelcius conjured a small flame at the tip of his right index finger and brought it close to the pipe’s end. He then raised the mouthpiece to his lips, inhaling deeply until his lungs were full of smoke. As he leaned over Julianus, he exhaled the stored smoke directly into his mouth. It was, in essence, a form of artificial respiration by modern standards. In this world, where no such concept existed, Nelcius’s actions appeared nothing short of madness.

“Wait, what the hell are you doing, Nelcius?!”

“What is that supposed to be?! You call that a treatment?!”

Both Lione and Joshua erupted in outrage. Grahart, who stood nearby, had already reached for the hilt of his sword. They had remained silent, watching Nelcius’s actions under the assumption that it was all part of the treatment. But at last, their patience had reached its limit. Joshua placed a hand on Nelcius’s shoulder, ready to stop him. Just as he was about to act, his hand froze. Julianus’s body had begun to tremble violently.

“Guh... Argh!”

All of a sudden, Julianus’s body convulsed, and he erupted into a fit of coughing. Nelcius had been waiting for this exact change. Without hesitation, he brought the opening of a prepared leather pouch close to Julianus’s mouth.

A torrent of water gushed from Julianus’s mouth, flowing straight into the pouch. The amount was overwhelming, as though an entire bucket had been overturned. Yet, the phenomenon did not end there. Even after Julianus had expelled the water, his throat convulsed. It was as if something within him was struggling to crawl its way out. Finally, that “something” emerged from his mouth.

“There it is. This is the cause of the illness.”

Nelcius pinched the creature between his fingers and held it up for all to see. It was a worm that eerily resembled an earthworm. Roughly five centimeters in length, its slimy, grotesque appearance made it something no one would want to touch with their bare hands.

“What the hell is that?” Lione asked, hugging herself in visible disgust. She had finally realized that all of Nelcius’s strange actions had indeed been part of the treatment. The outrage from earlier had completely vanished. When Nelcius saw their reactions, he held up the parasite for them to inspect.

“It’s called a bloodworm, a parasitic creature. When it infects a host, it first causes symptoms resembling a common cold. But over time, it gradually drains the host’s blood. In the end, it eats its way out of the host’s body, killing them in the process,” Nelcius explained, tossing the bloodworm onto the ground and crushing it under his foot. He wanted to erase every last trace of the vile parasite from existence, and few creatures were as insidious as this one.

Yet, Joshua furrowed his brows and asked, “But how? How did such a parasite end up inside His Majesty?”

“If it was in its egg stage, it could have slipped past the enchanted tableware designed to detect toxins. Most likely, it was mixed into a dish that didn’t require heat during preparation.”

“Impossible! It’s true that if the parasite was in its egg stage, it could have bypassed the enchanted tableware. But His Majesty’s meals were always tasted for poison beforehand. If you’re correct, then the food taster should have shown the same symptoms. Isn’t that right, Jane?”

At that moment, every gaze in the room turned toward a single person, the maid who had been tending to Julianus I. The girl called Jane had remained silent in the corner, merely observing the unfolding events. But under the weight of countless stares, she finally opened her mouth. Her expression was filled with fear and anxiety, especially since she was standing at the precipice of being accused as a poisoner.

“Yes, I was the one who performed the poison tasting under the supervision of the head maid. You can confirm this with her directly.”

Jane had made a desperate cry, a plea for her innocence that made logical sense. However, Nelcius simply shook his head.

“If a person ingests bloodworm eggs but regularly drinks a decoction of Anemujina fruit and Muldran leaves, the eggs will never hatch and will be expelled from the body. Isn’t that right?”

Jane’s face twisted at his words. That reaction alone was proof enough that Nelcius had hit the mark.

Without a word, Jane lunged toward Julianus, who had collapsed on the carpet. A dagger had suddenly appeared in her grip, its blade blackened with poison. Her movements were swift and merciless, a stark contrast with the innocent-looking maid she had seemed to be. Despite her humble appearance, this girl had clearly undergone extensive and rigorous training. Unfortunately for Jane, her attempt was far too reckless. Before she could reach her target, Nelcius, empowered with martial thaumaturgy, intercepted her.

His knife flashed through the air. A spray of red blood scattered through the room as Jane’s body collapsed onto the carpet.

“An instant kill...” Joshua murmured as he knelt beside her and placed two fingers on her neck, checking for any sign of a pulse. Then, he slowly shook his head. No one in the room looked surprised by the statement based on how Nelcius’s dagger had left a gaping wound in Jane’s throat. Judging by the sheer amount of blood soaking into the carpet, it was obvious she had died instantly.

“I apologize. I had no choice but to kill her,” Nelcius said after a pause, bowing his head toward Joshua.

But Joshua slowly shook his head in response.

“No. Given the circumstances, it’s enough that His Majesty is safe,” Joshua replied, a deep sigh escaping his lips. “To think an assassin had been hiding right beside His Majesty all this time... Who sent her?”

Joshua’s mind was already racing with thoughts about the next course of action. This was an assassination attempt on the king, meaning the culprit had to be identified and dealt with immediately. Beyond that, there was the issue of how to respond to the O’ltormea Empire. But just as his mind threatened to spiral into chaos, a hand of salvation reached him.

“What is this?”

Joshua’s eyes widened as Nelcius suddenly handed him a sealed letter.

Nelcius merely shrugged at this confusion and said, “A proposal. From Lord Mikoshiba to you.”

Joshua’s expression darkened with bewilderment. But if it was a letter from his ally, he couldn’t simply ignore it. He broke the wax seal and immediately began to read. When his eyes reached the final line, a long, heavy sigh escaped him.

“I see... So that’s the game plan. Use this situation to our advantage.”

Nelcius grinned and gave a firm nod because he knew this was the only chance left for the Kingdom of Xarooda to turn the tables. 

Four days had passed since Nelcius treated the king and Jane’s assassination attempt failed. Julianus listened to the entire story in silence, his expression increasingly grim. Yet, the fact that he did not interrupt even once was proof of his restraint.

“I see... So that wretched parasite was inside my body. And the one who planted it was Jane, the very maid who had been tending to me all this time.”

He sighed heavily. Jane had been a sharp-witted, reliable servant—perhaps even a favorite. When he learned she had been an assassin all along, it was difficult to remain composed. A hollow emptiness filled his chest, not unlike a grandfather mourning the loss of a grandchild. However, he had no time to dwell on such feelings. There was something far more pressing than the mere fact that Jane had been a traitor.

“My fierce young hawk, whom I have placed my trust in... I acknowledge the severity of this situation, but must we truly go this far?” The fortunate old man, who had barely escaped death’s grasp, questioned the young man standing beside his bed.

Was there anger in his words? Even though he was still too weak to leave his bed, his spirit remained unbroken. His sharp gaze bored into the young man, filled with a clear, unwavering will. And yet, deep within his eyes, there was the faintest trace of hesitation in King Julianus I Xaroodias.

This ruler was often dismissed as either a dullard or a fool. But with the sheer force of presence radiating from his words, it was clear that such opinions were misguided. The quiet, unassuming king was nowhere to be seen.

Even as Julianus I glared angrily at Joshua Belares, the man called the Hawk did not flinch. Instead, he simply nodded.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Do you truly understand how much blood will be spilled as a result of this decision?” Julianus’s voice was barely above a whisper, yet it carried the weight of a storm. His fists were clenched tightly, his shoulders trembling ever so slightly. This was the same question Joshua had once agonized over, but the answer had already been decided. It was simply Joshua’s turn to relay to Julianus the very same response Nelcius had given him. The facts remained unchanged, and the course of action remained the same. Only the participants and their roles had shifted. With Nelcius’s reasoning and the letter from Ryoma Mikoshiba in hand, there was only one possible conclusion.

Logically speaking, there’s no alternative. The only question left is whether His Majesty will make that choice... Or let his emotions dictate otherwise.

While disregarding human emotion was a mistake, clinging to it too tightly often led to even greater tragedy. That was why Joshua spoke plainly, leaving no room for hesitation.

“If Xarooda is to survive the next hundred years, this is a necessary sacrifice. Or do you intend to prolong this unwinnable war with the O’ltormea Empire? Shall we continue piling up the corpses of our people for a futile cause?”

Julianus’s face twisted because he already knew. Even the people of Xarooda had little faith in victory against O’ltormea. The kingdom was already at a disadvantage in terms of both national strength and military manpower. To make matters worse, their strongest ally, the Kingdom of Helnesgoula—leader of the four-kingdom alliance and the only power capable of rivaling O’ltormea—had yet to enter the war.

Still, the people fought on. Not because they believed in victory but out of loyalty to their nation. They fought because, despite his critics branding him as mediocre or foolish, Julianus’s rule had been accepted by his people. Therefore, Joshua would not hesitate to admonish his king, even if it meant earning his displeasure. Because he believed that the reign of Julianus I Xaroodias was worth defending—no matter the cost.

Indeed, they have secured victory in the recent Battle of the Ushas Basin. They have also successfully annihilated the enemy forces that had attempted a direct assault on the royal capital. The commanders sent by the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy have demonstrated formidable prowess. However, defeating the O’ltormea Empire will be difficult, even with their strength. At the very least, the kingdom has to unite as one, or we will have no future.

It was only a matter of time before the overwhelming numbers of the O’ltormea Empire crushed them entirely.

On top of that, there is the question of how the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy will act moving forward, thought Joshua.

Ever since the start of the conflict, the forces of the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy had faithfully upheld their obligations as part of the four-kingdom alliance. If the Kingdom of Xarooda fell, the O’ltormea Empire’s next target would undoubtedly be the Kingdom of Rhoadseria. Inevitably, that would mean that the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy, a vassal of Rhoadseria, would not remain unscathed either. In that sense, Rhoadseria and Xarooda mutually depended on one another.

However, that does not mean we can demand unconditional aid from that man. After all, his grand duchy is not the ruling nation of this alliance.

As the leader of the four-kingdom alliance, the Kingdom of Helnesgoula should have taken the initiative in aiding Xarooda. In reality, the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy—merely a noble house of Rhoadseria—had made the greatest sacrifices thus far.

Besides, the individuals that man dispatched are all incredibly skilled.

Simply put, the fact that they had managed to hold back the O’ltormea Empire’s advance spoke volumes about the extraordinary abilities of the three commanders Ryoma Mikoshiba had sent. At the forefront was the fierce General Robert Bertrand, who had stationed himself at the Ushas Basin defensive line and relentlessly repelled the O’ltormea Empire’s advances. Lione the Crimson Lioness, who had remained in the royal capital of Peripheria, was dedicated to securing supplies and providing crucial logistical support. Signus Galveria assisted her, acting as a mediator among the nobles, but he also accomplished the critical task of eliminating a separate enemy assault force that had attempted to strike the capital.

The Kingdom of Xarooda would have already fallen had even one of these three been absent. If we miraculously emerge victorious in this war, there is no doubt that they will receive the greatest credit.

Of course, the Kingdom of Xarooda did not lack talented individuals. Joshua led figures such as Grahart Henschel, the captain of Xarooda’s Royal Guard, and Orson Greed, the captain of the Monarch’s Guard, who had dedicated themselves entirely to their duties, exerting every ounce of their strength day after day. But compared to the achievements of Robert and his companions, the accomplishments of Joshua and his men were utterly insignificant.

Perhaps it was more accurate to say that Robert and his companions had simply achieved too much. Adding to the problem, more than a few shameless nobles within the aristocratic circles of Peripheria had made disparaging remarks about the three commanders who had come as reinforcements.

To judge from their arguments, they believed, “If foreign reinforcements achieve such great military success, it is a disgrace to the people of Xarooda.”

That belief was true, in a way. Compared to the battlefield results that Robert and the others had delivered, Xarooda’s own forces had accomplished relatively little. For a nation renowned for its martial prowess, it was not surprising that many would see it as humiliating. Nevertheless, such words were never meant to be directed at the three reinforcements who had come to aid them. Instead, they were words that should have been used for self-reflection and to spur the warriors of Xarooda to rise up and reclaim their honor.

And yet, far too many had no regard for such reason or principles. Worse still, the very people shameless enough to voice these complaints were the ones who refused to leave the safety of the royal capital.

If they were so ashamed of the situation as citizens of Xarooda, they could march to the front with their own soldiers. It was, in truth, an incredibly simple solution. Should they meet an unfortunate fate and die in battle, their actions would align with their words and restore their dignity in the most direct manner possible. If that happened, the morale of the struggling Xarooda army would surely surge. Commoners of the capital, seeing such determination, might even rally behind the cause and offer their full cooperation, willing to make sacrifices for the kingdom. And yet, those nobles refused to take even that simple course of action out of nothing more than jealousy.

Or perhaps it was a deliberate act of sabotage by those who had secretly allied themselves with the O’ltormea Empire. Someone wanted to sow the seeds of discord between the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy and the Kingdom of Xarooda.

Even so, Joshua did not hold back his praise for the military achievements of Lione and her companions. Their accomplishments were truly remarkable, and no amount of denial could change the reality of the situation. If he foolishly attempted to align himself with the envious voices criticizing them, the man backing those three would never remain silent.

If all he did was withdraw his troops now, he would still have done us a tremendous favor, Joshua mused. At worst, that man was capable of pulling off something as audacious as negotiating a separate peace treaty with the O’ltormea Empire and then turning his forces against the Kingdom of Xarooda. Instead, that man has proposed a desperate gambit.

Certainly, one could not openly praise such a plan. Joshua understood all too well that war was not a place for naive ideals, but that did not mean he wished to willingly bear the shame of being called a coward. Still, the warrior’s intuition that had once been recognized by Arios Belares whispered to him, telling him that this was their moment.

Most likely, this is the last opportunity to turn the tide of war in our favor. Even when faced with Julianus’s sharp gaze of criticism, Joshua refused to take a single step back.

“But do you have any proof of their crimes? Are you telling me to punish innocent men for the sake of our kingdom’s survival?” asked Julianus I.

“No, Your Majesty, they are by no means innocent. We cannot prove their crimes, and they are not foolish. They would have already destroyed any evidence that could definitely implicate them.”

“Then the answer is clear!”

“And yet, Your Majesty knows as well as I do that a lack of proof does not mean they are innocent.”

Julianus’s face twisted with emotion. Even so, he understood it all too well.

Among the Xaroodian nobility, there were indeed traitors who had secretly aligned themselves with the O’ltormea Empire. Such an act amounted to high treason, a crime punishable by death. Their family names would be erased from history, and every direct descendant would be sentenced to execution.

Indeed, they should have been dealt with long ago. And yet His Majesty refused to act.

They had known about the traitors for some time. When the O’ltormea Empire’s first invasion of Xarooda ended in a ceasefire, even Ryoma Mikoshiba had warned them that this issue would become a decisive factor in the kingdom’s future.

Based on Julianus’s perspective, his decision not to go after the traitors had been entirely reasonable. After all, they had not been able to obtain any concrete evidence of the traitors’ crimes. Even if they knew these men were guilty, they could not prosecute them without definitive proof. From the standpoint of modern legal principles, that reasoning was not necessarily incorrect. Even if someone belonged to a criminal organization, they could not be convicted unless their crimes were proven—a concept deeply rooted in modern law. The principle of “innocent until proven guilty” was a widely recognized doctrine familiar to anyone with a passing interest in legal matters. However, that principle was only possible in a society that recognized human rights and upheld the rule of law. Such a perspective existed solely within such a framework.

By that standard, Julianus was an exceedingly rare figure in this world—a man of remarkable virtue and a progressive thinker. This was by no means a bad thing; it was something to be admired. However, when considering the governance of a nation, such an approach was a dangerous misstep.

At the very least, it severely restricts the range of available options, Joshua mused. For a mid-tier nation like the Kingdom of Xarooda, such restrictions were a crippling disadvantage. Our homeland is weak... Calling it weak might be somewhat misleading, but the unfortunate truth remains that we are not among the strong.

For someone commanding a national army, this was a reality he would rather not acknowledge. But no matter how bitterly Joshua resented it, this would not change. Only by confronting that bitter reality head-on could they find a path forward.

Compared to the O’ltormea Empire, one of the three great powers of the western continent, our kingdom is undeniably weak. In our current state, we do not have the luxury of choosing a path for survival. We should consider ourselves lucky to have been offered a way out.

The ability to choose from multiple options was granted only to the strong, and not only those with physical strength. The principle stayed the same whether one excelled in beauty, intelligence, or wealth. For instance, no one would argue against the idea that physically attractive individuals had an advantage in marriage and romantic relationships. Of course, just because someone was beautiful did not mean that everything would always go their way.

However, they had more freedom to set conditions for their potential partners than less attractive individuals. People often called them “those in a position to choose.” If one were intelligent, they could select their preferred school or job. But if they lacked intelligence, they had no such privilege. If a student had their heart set on a particular school but performed poorly on practice exams and begged their teachers for help, they might receive words of encouragement. Yet, in the end, the teachers would simply tell them, “Study harder.” Teachers might also advise the student to change their target school.

What about financial wealth? A wealthy person who visited a luxury clothing store, where a single outfit cost the equivalent of a gold coin or more, could freely choose a design they liked—so long as their budget allowed it. If they had ten gold coins in their wallet, they could spend all of them or walk away if nothing suited their taste. A person with only ten copper coins could not afford even a single gold-coin-priced garment. No matter how much they desired such an expensive piece of clothing, purchasing it simply was not an option with only ten copper coins.

Still, this was nothing more than a simple reality. There was no injustice or unfairness, and everyone understood this wholeheartedly. Those who lacked the right to choose would have to pay the price if they tried to overreach.

Yes, O’ltormea understood it perfectly.

In terms of marriage and romance, someone who aimed too high beyond their means would be met with ridicule, and their chances of finding a partner would plummet. If one was not intelligent, one’s lifetime earnings would differ significantly from those who were. The definition of intelligence could vary, but having an education or qualifications usually resulted in higher wages.

The same applied to the dire predicament in which the Kingdom of Xarooda had found itself.

Changing the tide of this disadvantageous situation would require a price. If we do not wish to bow before the might of the O’ltormea Empire, we have no choice but to bear the hefty and bitter price.

What needed to be done was simple and clear. The only question had been whether Xarooda had the resolve to bear the cost. Fortunately, Julianus seemed to possess that determination and resolve.

“Your Majesty... Please make your decision.”

“Very well, Joshua Belares, the young hawk who will carry this kingdom forward. I shall accept your proposal.”

Julianus’s voice reverberated as if wrung from the depths of his soul. As Joshua deeply bowed in response to Julianus’s decision, he quietly left the room.

Later that day, there was a commotion among the nobles. News of the king’s demise had spread from the spies hiding within the palace, which would set off a slew of conflicts among the nobles. After all, the demise of their leader did not bode well for the nation of Xarooda. The traitors thinking of cozying up to the O’ltormea Empire all raised their glasses to celebrate the news of Julianus’s death. At the same time, the patriots who had called for all-out resistance against the empire’s invasion wept over the king’s passing. The news had indeed split the Kingdom of Xarooda in two.

“So, that half-dead old fool finally kicked the bucket?”

This took place in a corner of the royal capital, Peripheria, where the mansions of powerful noble families stood side by side. In one such mansion, a man burst with joy upon receiving news of the king’s passing. He must have fervently wished for the death of Julianus I. Since he was in his mansion’s study, he savored his delight without a hint of restraint.

The man was Marquis Ernest Almholt, the current head of the House Almholt and the grandson of Alegria, the sister of Julianus I. He appeared to be in his early thirties. Perhaps due to years of indulgent living, the top of his head had gone bald, and his body had grown quite corpulent overall. His height was approximately one hundred seventy centimeters. While he had likely been handsome when younger, that image was nowhere to be seen.

He was considered a rather unusual figure in Xarooda—a kingdom famed for its martial spirit, where most nobles were warrior types who never neglected their training. Regardless, it was not entirely without reason. Of the two legs that supported his massive frame, his left was a prosthetic. Indeed, Ernest’s body had grown fat. From the perspective of the Xarooda nobility, who valued the warrior’s path above all, it was natural that Ernest was derided behind his back as a lazy swine. However, he could not bear the entire blame for his condition, and looking down on him as a person because of it would have been a mistake.

Moreover, his lack of warrior training did not mean he could be dismissed outright as unfit for nobility. In fact, no one in Xarooda’s noble society dared to underestimate Marquis Almholt. Why? Misfortune always befell those who mocked or insulted him. Sometimes, it was the sudden, accidental death of a family member. Other times, it was the exposure of corruption that ultimately led to the ruin of an entire house. There had never been any proof that Ernest Almholt had orchestrated these tragedies. But when people considered who had benefited from those outcomes, the culprit was often all too easy to guess.

Ernest had deliberately acted in ways that made others think he was guilty. It had been a form of intimidation and coercion. His actions had not been the most praiseworthy; that much was certain. As a result, no single person within Xarooda’s noble society dared to mock Ernest Almholt or his house. In that sense, no one in the Kingdom of Xarooda embodied the essence of nobility more than him.

He was greedy, self-serving, and, above all, someone who prioritized the survival of his own house. That might have made him a proper noble, but he wasn’t exactly the sort one would want to get too close to. In stark contrast to that unpleasant nature, Ernest Almholt possessed remarkable political skill as a feudal lord. Governance within the Almholt marquisate had remained highly stable. At the very least, he had been a good lord to his people. In light of the significant profits earned through mining and forestry, he could be counted among the most capable lords in the entire Kingdom of Xarooda. Despite his lack of martial prowess, his mind was exceptionally sharp. In particular, his talent for diplomacy and for plotting the downfall of political rivals far exceeded the ordinary.

One could consider Marquis Ernest a rare and valuable asset in a kingdom like Xarooda, where martial temperament was the norm. If Ernest Almholt had one flaw, he might have seen too far ahead.

Foolish great-uncle... Why did he make such a reckless decision to oppose the O’ltormea Empire? If not for that, I wouldn’t have had to stoop to the shameful act of selling out my country, thought Marquis Ernest.

Nonetheless, it was little more than a convenient shifting of blame. Ernest Almholt had chosen to secretly communicate with the O’ltormea Empire, leaking information from within Xarooda. He had formed the prosubmission faction—the Allegiance Party—alongside like-minded nobles eager to curry favor with the empire, promoting surrender and manipulating public opinion. Deep resentment and a long-standing grudge existed between Ernest and his great-uncle, Julianus I, born from a decision Julianus made in his younger days.

Even after decades had passed, that decision had remained deeply etched into the core of who Ernest Almholt was. It was precisely because of that lingering resentment that he had gone so far as to purchase the eggs of the deadly “bloodworms” from the southern continent and hire a seasoned assassin. That alone stood as undeniable proof that Ernest Almholt had truly wished for the death of Julianus I Xaroodias.

And yet, they were still bound by blood. Conflicting emotions swirled within Ernest.

But now, everything will change. If that’s the case, there’s no need to agonize over it any longer.

For Ernest, nothing was more important than the survival and prosperity of the Almholt marquisate. In particular, the continuation of the family name was an absolute imperative. He also desired prosperity if it could be achieved. Developing the territory and attaining economic wealth were important goals in their own right. However, when forced to choose between prosperity and the survival of the family name, the latter clearly took precedence.

For better or worse, he had always been a realist, prioritizing risk avoidance above all else. In truth, that way of thinking was by no means mistaken for the head of a noble house. But for a man so devoted to the preservation of his family name to go as far as to collude with the O’ltormea Empire and plot the assassination of his own king, there had to be reasons befitting such an extreme course of action.

“You are too soft, dear uncle... Too soft and far too weak to be king. And worse than that, a loathsome hypocrite.”

Those words might have captured one of the very reasons he had conspired to kill the king. Of course, Ernest acknowledged that his great-uncle Julianus was a good man. But to him, being a good man and being a good king were not the same, and goodness alone was not enough. There were times when cruelty and ruthlessness, more than kindness or mercy, were what could truly save a nation. It wasn’t a matter of one being right and the other wrong. Both were right. Both were necessary.

You never understood that...

Ernest had once been a young man who placed the prosperity of the Kingdom of Xarooda and the happiness of its people above all else. As such, he was mocked by those around him as a naive idealist. But for Ernest, such ridicule had meant nothing. As long as something firm and unshakable existed within his heart, the opinions of others held no sway over him.

What use are chivalry and patriotism if they can’t even avenge my mother? What value is there in a justice that can’t deliver that much?

He knew who the culprit was. The incident had stemmed from an escalating conflict over water rights in a village within the domain. Tensions had nearly ignited a full-blown clash with the neighboring Count Segroa’s territory. By then, Ernest’s father had already passed away from illness, and his mother, Consuela, had been managing the domain as its lady lord. But because she was a woman, the surrounding nobles had looked down on her, which had been most likely the root cause of the conflict.

Disputes between nobles were typically expected to be resolved through negotiation—an unspoken understanding among the aristocracy. But Count Segroa’s house had refused to make even the slightest concession.

To rein in the Segroa family’s tyranny, Consuela had set out with twelve-year-old Ernest in tow to petition her uncle Julianus, who resided in the royal capital of Peripheria. It was on that journey that the “accident” occurred.

The wheel of their carriage had snapped off and sent them plummeting over a cliff. Naturally, everyone suspected foul play by House Segroa. Clear, fresh saw marks had been found on the broken axle. Given the circumstances and the parties involved, most people had little doubt that the Segroa family was behind it. And yet, Julianus had declared it an accident. Contrary to expectations, House Segroa faced no consequences whatsoever.

Julianus I had clearly decided based on his own sense of justice and personal conscience. From a neutral standpoint, it had indeed been difficult to prove the Segroa family’s guilt. The saw marks merely indicated tampering, but no objective evidence linked the sabotage directly to Count Segroa or his people.

But Julianus’s decision had shattered young Ernest’s heart beyond repair.

An accident? Don’t make me laugh...

Every time he recalled that day, a flame of hatred ignited within him. Over the years, that hatred had twisted Ernest’s heart and turned him into a demon of vengeance. He had longed for the death of Julianus I Xaroodias, the hypocrite who had so callously abandoned him and his mother.

At last, that demon had fulfilled its wish. Telling him not to rejoice would have been impossible. On top of that, Ernest carried the blood of the Xaroodias royal line and held a legitimate claim to the throne.

This claim wasn’t guaranteed, but with the right maneuvering, the possibility of ascending as the next king of Xarooda was within reach. It truly was the springtime of his life and moment of triumph.

“Send word to Count Kilhorn and Viscount Voltaire. Gather the nobles who support our cause. As soon as the king’s death is officially announced, we will storm the royal castle!”

After Ernest fired a rapid string of orders to the waiting butler, he immediately turned toward his writing desk.

Mobilize the troops, secure provisions... No, perhaps I should report the situation to the empire first.

In any case, there was a mountain of tasks waiting to be handled. And so, Ernest threw all his strength into action, unaware that it would ultimately lead to his downfall.

Two days later, the news Ernest had so eagerly awaited finally arrived. Around thirty nobles of Xarooda who had chosen to remain in Peripheria had assembled in the audience chamber.

Given that the O’ltormea forces were rampaging through the countryside, and these nobles made their decision to be here instead of defending their lands, it wasn’t difficult to imagine what sort of men they were.

“Hmph... So the path of peaceful resolution is no longer an option, then.”

In a waiting room adjacent to the audience chamber, Julianus I sighed deeply as he listened to Joshua’s report on the scene. Was it disappointment that colored his voice?

Despair was the more accurate word.

Standing beside him as a witness, Lione cast a sorrowful gaze toward the despondent Julianus, who had been crushed by Joshua’s report. Of course, Julianus had already known. But understanding and accepting something with the heart were two very different things.

Until he had heard Joshua’s words, Julianus had likely held on to a sliver of hope somewhere deep within. He did not want to admit that traitors, eager to sell out their homeland, were crawling at his very feet.

Julianus I had undoubtedly been aware of their presence. And yet, he had believed that by showing them leniency and extending his mercy, time would eventually resolve the matter. But now, that faint hope Julianus had clung to had evaporated like mist. Nothing but beasts driven by naked greed remained, an unbearable sight for a man still recovering from illness.

Even so, Joshua did not soften his words. Without mercy, he delivered his ultimatum.

“Then, shall we abandon the plan? Lord Nelcius and the others should already be advancing their forces northward.”

Joshua’s voice was firm and cold, unlike normal. But that sternness was itself a form of loyalty. This reflected his devotion to his liege and the compassion that arose from understanding his burden. In truth, kindness had no place here.

Xarooda needed the resolve and the readiness to shed blood. And Joshua understood that well, to which Julianus I slowly shook his head.

“No... That’s no longer an option. If we back down now, this country truly will fall.” With deliberate motion, Julianus I rose from his chair. He took Lione’s hand, then bowed his head deeply. “Lady Lione, I entrust this to you. Please, I beg of you.”

Lione gave a small nod in return. “Aye. Leave it to me, Your Majesty.”

After making a graceful bow, Lione turned on her heel and left the waiting room at a brisk pace.

Just like Nelcius and his men advancing north, she had a vital role to play.

“It is time, Your Majesty,” Joshua said softly once Lione had disappeared, gazing at Julianus.

Joshua signaled the beginning of the purge of traitors who had sold out their country for personal gain and fleeting glory. When Julianus appeared before the assembly, the air in the audience chamber froze. After all, the king—believed to be dead—was alive and standing before them.

The gathered nobles experienced a metaphorical thunderclap from a clear sky. In that instant, a metallic tang spread like rusted iron across Ernest Almholt’s tongue. The king had faked his death to summon them here, and there could be only one reason for such a move.

So this is how he treats me... His own blood... Just like before, he’s casting me aside.

Even Ernest knew deep down that such thoughts were nothing more than misplaced resentment. He had decided to conspire with the O’ltormea Empire in pursuit of glory and power. And so, this was nothing more than the natural consequence of his choices—reaping what he had sown. Yet even with that knowledge, Ernest’s heart burned with fury and hatred toward Julianus, the flames of resentment raging uncontrollably within him.

But there was no longer any path left to change the outcome. Ernest’s fate had already been sealed when he entered this audience chamber. All that remained for Ernest was to glare at Julianus, seated upon the throne.

“You sanctimonious fool... May you rot in damnation!”

It was a pitiful act of rebellion, one final show of defiance from a man abandoned by his great-uncle and now staring death in the face. But even that muttered curse was drowned out, lost to the clamor of armored boots as the elite knights of the Royal Guard surged into the hall.

At that very moment, along the road leading to the northern gates of Peripheria, a massive army of over ten thousand was marching southward, kicking up clouds of dust as it moved. Robert Bertrand watched the procession from a hilltop overlooking the valley.

He tightly gripped his beloved battle axe, eagerly awaiting the signal to ignite the coming battle.

“Well, well... That’s a fine-looking force down there. Gotta hand it to them. Say what you will, the Kingdom of Xarooda is truly still a nation of warriors. Rotten at the top, maybe, but those soldiers look like they’ll put up a decent fight.”

At his side, Signus Galveria nodded in agreement.

“It seems the army is centered around House Almholt. On their flanks, you’ve got Count Kilhorn and Viscount Voltaire. The rest are filled in with lesser nobles. I’d estimate their numbers at around thirty thousand.”

Robert gave a low whistle at the report and replied, “Thirty thousand, huh... With a force like that, we could give those O’ltormea dogs a real beating. Can’t imagine what’s going through the heads of cowards who’d rather use that army to stab their own kingdom in the back.”

Indeed, Robert had a point. Thirty thousand troops could have relieved the fatigued Xaroodian forces who were fighting tooth and nail against O’ltormea’s daily onslaught. They could’ve been used to bolster the capital’s defenses or even reclaim lost ground. Either way, with a sizable host, they could have served the kingdom in countless ways.

Robert and his allies were about to shatter the army that was raised and moved out of personal ambition. There was no greater waste of human life than this.

However, Signus held a different perspective. “Well, it can’t be helped. The nobles are the kind of disgraceful lot who’d sell out their own homeland just to climb the ranks. Might be better to wipe them all out in one go. That way, the opportunists and defeatists will think twice before opening their mouths again.”

Such philosophy was rooted in the idea of punishing one to warn a hundred. That was precisely the intent behind this strategy proposed by Ryoma Mikoshiba, so it was hardly surprising.

“Well then, Master Nelcius... Looks like it’s about time we got started,” Robert said with a grin.

Nelcius responded with a quiet nod. “Indeed. Gentlemen, follow the plan as discussed.”

With that, Nelcius turned and began walking toward his forces, which had been on standby near the royal road. His steps were so light it seemed he was merely taking a stroll near his home. At the very least, he didn’t look like a man about to march into battle.

But that was to be expected. A one-sided rampage by monsters who had long transcended the limits of human nature was about to unfold.

A few hours later, the army of thirty thousand soldiers advancing south toward Peripheria was halted when they encountered a blocking force of ten thousand soldiers led by Grahart Henschel, the captain of the Kingdom of Xarooda’s Royal Guard. The road, flanked on both sides by dense forests, was completely occupied by the thirty thousand soldiers.

“Captain! A messenger from House Almholt has arrived!” said a scout, to which Grahart nodded slightly. Everything was unfolding just as expected.

Although they’re in league with the O’ltormea Empire, the sight of the Kingdom of Xarooda’s flag flying over the Royal Guard likely made them hesitate to open hostilities. The heads of all the noble houses are in the capital. Besides, this army is just a mishmash of forces. Their command structure is probably disorganized. Indeed, it would be difficult for House Almholt to declare war on us under these circumstances.

There was no doubt that their master was a traitor who had sold out their homeland of Xarooda and that these were his comrades. Simply put, they could be called rebels.

From Grahart’s all-knowing perspective, House Almholt and their allies were nothing more than enemies. They were treasonous conspirators who deserved nothing but disdain. But they had not yet openly turned their backs on the Kingdom of Xarooda.

The nobles believe betrayal is the trump card that can drastically change the situation. Moreover, if that trump card can only be used once...

Naturally, they would want to play that card at the most opportune moment. With the head of the house absent, they would clearly stop their march and send a messenger to confirm the situation. But this very line of thinking was the perfect trap.

Everything has unfolded exactly as I predicted. Nelcius is truly a terrifying man...

The image of the handsome man with dark skin and silver hair appeared in Grahart’s mind. He was determined to fulfill his role and ordered his subordinates to charge with the full force of the army. For the rebels, waiting for an opportunity to carry out their own betrayal, it was an unexpected ambush that must have caused immeasurable shock.

However, the misfortune of the rebels did not end there.

In response to Grahart’s charge, the elite troops of the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy’s army cut in from both sides of the forest. By the time the sun began to set on the western horizon, the road was stained red with the blood of the rebel soldiers. This, coupled with the purges occurring in the capital simultaneously, marked the turning point for the Kingdom of Xarooda. They had crushed those who favored surrendering to the O’ltormea Empire.