Chapter 390 - The Count and Krang

Inside the audience chamber, Encrid smelled blood and a faint animal musk. There were other unmistakable signs of fighting, too. A quick glance around was enough to see them. The Queen sat on her throne, lips pressed tightly together. Beside her stood Luagarne, one foot severed at the ankle. Somehow she still managed to balance herself. Her heart guard was exposed, and he could see scratches on it. 'Signs of a fierce fight.'

There had been a battle fierce enough to cost Luagarne a foot. Even so, she had won. The Marquis of Fertile Lands stood just before the eight shallow steps leading to the throne. His robe was spattered with a fair amount of blood. His complexion was duller than before, and he seemed to have no intention of hiding his somber mood. What about their surroundings? The bodies had been cleared away, but bloodstains remained on the floor, and the walls were gouged and broken. Even the white-painted pillars supporting the chamber bore sword cuts. What did the musk tell him? It was the smell of monsters. Among the corpses, he spotted several shaggy monsters. Wolf-men. 'It wasn't just Viscount Vantra.'

Even without identifying who had orchestrated this, the intent was clear. Instinct, reason, and thought led him to one conclusion.

'They meant to kill Krang, seize the capital, and take custody of the Queen.' Or had they meant to kill the Queen as well? He couldn't know that much. Either way, all their plans had failed. Krang was alive. The Queen, too, looked unharmed. Encrid looked behind the throne and saw a man standing farther back than the mage. He had a square jaw, graying hair at his temples, and brown hair swept neatly back. His closed mouth lent him such a taciturn look that he seemed unlikely to speak even once a day. A sword with a Sun Beast's head for its pommel hung at his waist. He stood directly behind the Queen. Perhaps the ideal place both to protect her and to do her harm. "I never knew there really was a guardian knight."

The person who belonged here least spoke. Count Molsen. He swept his hair back, glanced over Krang, Encrid, and their companions, then turned his eyes toward the Queen as he spoke. No, to Encrid, it felt as though that gaze had paused on him alone. The greeting about it having been a while had been meant for him, not Krang. The count seemed not even to see Krang. It went beyond ignoring him; he hadn't spared him a glance. "That was hardly something you needed to know, was it?"

The Queen who had radiated warmth and comfort was nowhere to be found. Her low, subdued voice conveyed her mood. Just then, the mage beside her coughed, and the ends of her eyebrows rose. "Do you admit that your intentions were malicious?"

The Queen showed her anger. "I do."

The count answered briefly, smiling. He was unchanged: confident and unyielding, like an unbroken rock. The arrogance peculiar to a man who believed in his purpose and acted upon it became his weapon. It felt as though his perfume were spreading through the stench of blood and musk. This was the force of a man who believed wholly in himself. "Let me ask one question."

As though he needed no permission, the count spread his hands and continued, leaving the Queen no chance to answer. "Is it true that a rebellion by a mere handful of nobles has reduced us to this? Look at the state of things. The knight order has splintered, and a guardian knight had to step forward to protect the Queen. Surely you know the saying that a guardian knight's intervention heralds a nation's fall? And is that all? Look outside. Had someone set a fire, even the palace might have gone up in flames." It sounded as though he were saying he could have done so, but hadn't. In Encrid's eyes, the count seemed to grow larger and larger. "Sophistry!"

A noble shouted. Encrid had never seen him before, but his very presence here must mean he held considerable standing. His voice was loud. Yet he looked far smaller than the count. It felt as though perspective itself had gone awry. "Do not dismiss what has actually happened as sophistry."

By contrast, the count's voice was low, but it held a force that overwhelmed the gathering. The noble closed his mouth. He knew nothing he said here would gain him anything. It was the instinct of a noble who had survived long in politics. "Hmph."

He settled for a snort, but the count knocked him flat simply by calmly turning away. He had used neither a sword nor his hands, yet he had unquestionably knocked the man down. "What is it you wish to say?"

Another noble stepped forward this time: the old man who resembled Marcus, Marquis Vaisar. The head of Centerpole, the Thumb house. His white hair was slicked neatly back with flower-seed oil, and not a drop of blood stained his clothes. It seemed to suggest that the path he had taken here, his purpose, and his reasons differed from those of the others. "I wish to ask why things have come to this," the count replied. "Why?" the marquis asked again. "What do you suppose would have happened if the monarch had possessed power?"

The corners of the count's eyes and mouth curved gently. He spoke with a smile. "You scoundrel! You dare insult the royal house!"

The noble from earlier could no longer restrain himself and interrupted. His short brown hair and glaring eyes made him look exceedingly hotheaded. "Stop interrupting. Or did your master put you up to this?"

The noble's hand trembled at the count's words. He wore a shortsword at his waist and looked ready to draw it at any moment. The count dismissed him after that remark. Beside him, the Marquis of Fertile Lands gestured to the noble, who promptly pressed his lips shut. "What if a single word could have summoned Sir Cyprus here?"

Still smiling, the count continued his questions. "Do you know what would happen if we left the south undefended?"

Marquis Vaisar answered with a question. Count Molsen replied as though he had been waiting for it.

"Does that matter?" "He is a sword that protects the palace. If that does not matter, what does?"

The Marquis of Fertile Lands interjected. The count answered calmly.

"The throne. The monarch. Strength. Power. And the rule they make possible."

His meaning was clear. Securing the throne and acquiring strength had to come first. "Who gives the knight order its commands?"

The count spoke as though delivering an oration, raising his clenched right fist.

"The knights they revere as Masters? Or the monarch? Or the throne? Or is it...!"

His voice flew like a dagger. The Queen gritted her teeth. The muscles of her jaw visibly tightened.

"That game of honor they so adore?" What came first? The throne. The monarch. Power. Rule. Consolidating authority and building strength came before everything else. What use was a throne without the strength to achieve one's aims? "Relinquish the throne, Queen. That is how this nation can be saved."

The count had crossed the line. Leaped far beyond it. Yet it did not feel out of place. His words had the power to make it seem right, as though he were presenting a sound argument for saving the country. With an expression and tone far too peaceful for this place, Marquis Vaisar threw an obstacle into the path of those words.

"And what would change if you became king?" "Things would change." "What things?"

The somber Marquis of Fertile Lands followed up. "I would consolidate authority and strengthen the throne. Those who invade in the meantime? The territory we lose? In a few years, we can drive them all out and simply retake the land, can we not?"

He was determined to take a different path from the present one. He meant to strengthen the country from within, then begin anew with the power he had built. "With what?" "I am a mage. And within my domain, I have a force comparable to a knight order."

This time, it was an unmistakable threat. Even Encrid felt it as he watched. Do you have strength? I do. That was what he meant. Both marquises were at a loss for words. So was the Queen. "Queen, how long do you think your guardian knight can protect you? Not a chance. Try me, if you are so confident. I will show you the strength of a man born and raised in the land of Molsen, that place you call the frontier." Now was the time to use the word arrogance. Despite the failure of this undertaking, the count neither begged forgiveness nor resorted to sinister, underhanded scheming. He stood tall and spoke plainly. A frontal assault. He was confident he could seize what he wanted by force. "Bring your knights. Once I have brought every last one to his knees and killed them, I shall personally proclaim this kingdom mine."

Kill the entire knight order? Impossible. Yet he made it seem possible. There was power in his words. The count's words pressed down on the gathering, dragging them lower. It felt as though they ought to kneel. Encrid, of course, would do no such thing. Neither would the Marquis of Fertile Lands or Marquis Vaisar. But he could see some of the remaining nobles wavering. The fight was over. It felt as though it were ending in the count's victory. "It's magic."

As he watched, a whisper came from beside him. Esther had come right up to his side without his noticing.

"So that's what he was up to."

She spoke, but Encrid merely kept looking ahead instead of answering. Magic. That meant the count speaking over there had pulled some trick. Should he cut him down? It wasn't as though he liked the man to begin with. As if reading his mind, Ragna asked from behind him,

"Shall I cut him down?" Would that be all right? While Encrid briefly considered it, Krang raised a hand, smiling brightly. Marquis Vaisar's serenity was already out of place, but this went beyond that. Krang looked practically mad. And then there were the words he uttered, and the form of address he chose. "I have a question, teacher."

He looked happier than ever. The very title mocked the count. He clearly meant to have his say. That mocking form of address made it impossible for the count to ignore him. The count looked straight at the Queen as he spoke.

"You are doing this because you trust that one immature child? A child with no power, nothing at all?"

Krang was no child. He even had a fair amount of beard. But when the count said it, it sounded true. Krang ignored what the other man chose to call him. His attitude said it was none of his concern. With that refreshingly blithe dismissal, he continued.

"Withdraw the knight order and pull back the knights, and Rihinstetten will expand from the south. And what of the Demonic Realm? Naturally, we would not be able to stop it." Krang had stepped onto the stage the count had made. He went along with the atmosphere, as though it did not bother him at all. He was still smiling, a faint smile. "And?"

The count asked. Only then did he face Krang. "Then it seems a great many people would die. Losing land would not be the end of it. As we lost territory and were pushed back, countless people living near the borders would perish. Would it end there? Lose people and land, and merchants will come less often. What do you think happens then? Less gold changes hands. The nation's finances might wobble for a while. Ah, unless you have gold to spare and believe your private fortune can solve all of this? But however great your power, Count, you cannot possibly hold off both Rihinstetten in the south and the Demonic Realm in their entirety." The count regarded the ignorant pup who had stepped onto his stage. His eyes held contempt, as if Krang were beneath his notice. He met the spear Krang had thrown.

"Sacrifice is inevitable. If it is necessary, we make it." "Why bother?" "How else can we move forward without sacrifice?" Krang spread both hands.

"We can do both." "Both?" "We need not sacrifice anyone. And we can build the royal house's power while strengthening the country from within." "Sophistry." "Do not dismiss what is going to happen as sophistry." "So your only weapon is boasting that you can do the impossible." "Not at all. My weapon lies elsewhere." "Show me, then." "I'm rather good at asking favors." "Favors?" "For instance, if I asked someone to cut your head off right now, there is someone who would step forward." "Try it." Krang regarded the count with the same smile, as though looking at a dear friend.

"Do you want to die?" "You cannot kill me." Quite the certainty. Listening to the exchange, Encrid had just finished readying himself to step forward at any moment. "May I ask a favor, Enkie?"

Krang turned his gaze toward him as he spoke. Mischief and fervor mingled in his blue eyes. It could have sounded like a request out of nowhere. It even felt as though stepping forward would be wrong. Everyone was crushed beneath the intimidating pressure the count and Krang exerted. Even Ragna could not step forward as readily as before. Into that space, Encrid stepped.

"Of course."

He spoke as well, taking his place as though he belonged naturally in that atmosphere. The mood twisted strangely. The blade named Encrid had stepped onto the stage Krang had created. "You really are a man I want for myself."

Count Molsen spoke as he watched Encrid step forward. "He's not your friend, Count. He's mine. Isn't that right?"

Krang answered. "It is not too late to join me. You need only look at the situation to understand. Even a seven-year-old knows to stand on the winning side."

Refusing to yield, the count spoke as he looked at Encrid. The mood made it seem as though whoever won Encrid to his side would be the victor. Encrid took one long stride forward. Standing beside Krang, he caught his wrist and raised his arm.

"Victory."

An excellent referee. "As expected."

Krang nodded with a smile. Watching them, the count laughed heartily.

"Good, good! Very well. Queen, I take it this is your choice?" "I have nothing to discuss with a traitor."

Only then did the Queen answer. The count glared at Krang.

"You said you would strengthen the country without summoning the knight order? Then you had best stop the arrow I have already loosed. Without that precious knight order of yours." "Are you worried about me? Thank you. I shall defeat your troops without the knight order."

Krang mocked him. The count did not rise to it. Instead, white smoke began leaking from all over his body with little hisses. "That was never his real body."

Esther addressed Encrid, but everyone heard her. "Ah, I sent some of my troops ahead to Border Guard. Once magnificent flames rise from that city, reconsider your decision."

The count spoke as his body shriveled with the escaping smoke. "See you again."

Perhaps those were his final words. With them, the count's body collapsed. Encrid looked at the fallen man's face. He did not recognize it. But Krang did.

"Viscount Mernes."

He had been nowhere to be found, only to end his life here as the count's messenger. Krang let out a sigh. Behind him, the two marquises watched him. No, they were watching Encrid as well. "Now then, Your Majesty. I have kept my promise."

Amid all this, Krang spoke. His tone was unchanged. Cheerful. "I have swept away all the noble factions. Only my people remain here."

He immediately turned to his promise to the Queen. There was no time to leisurely sort through and put the situation in order.