Chapter 25 - Isn't This a Little Excessive? (1)

Carmine, Duke Comalon's third son, had been in a foul mood for the past week. His marriage negotiations had fallen through, but what grated on him even more was Count Pallatio. He had tried to relieve his stress by picking on the count at the banquet, only to be publicly humiliated instead.

Of course, Carmine had no one but himself to blame. Had he not appraised the looks of other young ladies, the marriage negotiations would have continued smoothly as before. Had he not provoked Count Pallatio, he would never have suffered that humiliation.

But Carmine had completely forgotten that he had started the fight. He dwelled only on what had been done to him, replaying the scene again and again. It was the first time in his life he had suffered such outrageous humiliation. Indeed, sheltered beneath Duke Comalon, a pillar of the kingdom, Carmine had never experienced anything of the sort. The scene had burned itself deep into his mind.

After spending roughly ten days thinking about it and occasionally grinding his teeth, Carmine finally arrived at Duke Comalon's estate. As though he had reached a decision, he spoke.

"Hey."

"Yes, young master?"

"Where did you say that bastard was going?"

"As I mentioned before, Count Pallatio said he had business in Callivan—"

Without waiting for the knight to finish, Carmine went straight into his room and hurriedly opened a desk drawer. Numerous crystal balls lay inside. He picked up the one at the far right, took a mana stone from inside his clothes, and pressed it against the magical orb. The crystal ball began to shine brightly.

After some time, its bright glow gradually faded, and a voice came through.

["Well, who do we have here? Isn't it my friend Carmine?"]

"I'll get straight to the point. I need your help," Carmine said, holding the orb.

["Huh? My help? With what?"]

"Count Pallatio should be heading your way right now. Deal with him for me."

["Deal with him? Count Pallatio?"]

The person on the other end sounded bewildered.

"You don't have to kill him. I'm just saying I want you to cripple the bastard."

The man fell silent for a moment at Carmine's words, then tried to speak.

["Even so, that's a bit—"]

"Five."

["... What?"]

"Fuck that bastard up, and I'll give you five more. You need them to improve, don't you?"

["Ha..."]

The man gave a disbelieving laugh, then asked,

["Are you serious? You can get as many as five?"]

"That won't be a problem, provided you do exactly what I ask."

The man fell silent.

"You can do it, can't you?"

["Ha..."]

At Carmine's prompting, he laughed as though he had no choice.

["My friend knows me far too well! How do you know me so well? You really know how to toy with my heart!"]

"Are you doing it or not?"

["All I have to do is fuck him up, right?"]

"Yes. As brutally as possible."

["Wow, he must have really gotten on your bad side. Anyway, all right. I'll contact you once it's done. Talk to you then."]

With that, he ended the connection.

The room fell so quiet that the conversation moments earlier might never have happened. The only difference was the nasty grin now curling Carmine's lips.

'You didn't think you could humiliate the hell out of me and get away with it, did you?'

####

"Are we finally here?"

"Looks like it."

About two weeks had passed since Alon met Elivan, this world's protagonist. Looking at Kirdam, Callivan's capital, in the distance, he turned his gaze toward the back of the carriage. It was loaded with an assortment of gifts—all, of course, intended for Deus, whom he was about to meet.

"Ugh, I'm seriously exhausted."

As Alon looked over the gifts, Evan yawned tiredly beside him. Alon certainly felt weary himself.

"Long journeys are always tiring."

"... It would have been a lot more peaceful if we hadn't gone to places like that labyrinth."

They were tired not only because they had been traveling for so long, but because Alon had made so many stops over the past week.

"It couldn't be helped," Alon replied.

He really had spent the past week constantly traveling from place to place and going out of his way to make stops on the road to Callivan in order to prepare for the fight against the Outer God. The lotus-shaped necklace hanging around his neck, which he hadn't possessed two weeks ago, was one of those preparations.

Smoothly ignoring Evan's look, Alon changed the subject.

"You said Deus had returned from his expedition?"

"Yes. He should probably be there."

Alon paused before speaking again.

"... He'll agree to see us, won't he?"

"... I think he'll at least meet with us," Evan replied.

Despite that answer, Alon remained a little skeptical.

'Getting him to see me isn't what matters. Getting him to agree to my request is... Maybe that really will be difficult.'

Of course, Alon had not only given Deus considerable financial support, but also saved his life from the pit of misery it had nearly fallen into. In terms of cause and effect, that clearly made him Deus's benefactor.

But that was only when viewed in terms of cause and effect. In practice, Deus was likely to see Alon as no more than someone to be grateful to—a man he had never met who had spent money somewhere to save him. After all, Alon had never once met Deus in person. Without a single meeting, there could be no real closeness, however favorably Deus might regard him. Now that Alon had reached Kirdam, that worried him a little.

'I suppose all I can do is pray the gifts work.'

As that thought crossed his mind, Alon found himself at Kirdam's northern gate. As usual, he joined the line for inspection before entering the capital. Things might be different within the Kingdom of Asteria, but abroad, he had to undergo inspection whether he was a noble or not.

After giving his basic personal details to the soldier who came to verify his identity, Alon watched the line of carriages inch forward and waited for Evan to return from the inspection.

"Excuse me, my lord?"

"What is it?"

"We've run into a bit of a problem."

Alon tilted his head at Evan, who had poked his head into the carriage, then nodded and climbed out. There, he found a knight wearing an exceedingly confident expression. The red-haired man had a lion emblem on his chest and looked, at a glance, like an ill-mannered prick. When Alon tilted his head at him, the knight spoke.

"Are you Count Pallatio?"

"I am."

As if to demonstrate how reliable judging people by their faces was in a fantasy world, the knight addressed Alon without a shred of courtesy despite this being their first meeting. As Alon answered him, Evan whispered in his ear.

"That knight appears to be Piola's disciple."

"... Piola?"

"Yes. You know—the Fourth Sword."

Only then did Alon let out a quiet sound of recognition. Recalling Piola, the Master Knight known as the Fourth Sword, he nodded, though his expression remained puzzled.

"So why is the Fourth Sword's disciple here? ... With a whole bunch of knights, no less."

He glanced around and saw numerous knights bearing the same lion emblem as Piola.

"... What do you want with me?"

Alon turned back to Piola's disciple, who approached with an easy smile.

"First, I am Biran, Lord Piola's direct disciple."

"... And?"

"I hear a friend of mine owes you a little something."

"A friend?"

Biran smiled at the question.

"Yes, a friend."

"I don't have any particular connections in Callivan."

"My friend isn't connected to Callivan either. He's in the Kingdom of Ashtalon."

"The Kingdom of Ashtalon...?" Alon murmured involuntarily, then gave a quiet, "Ah."

"... Carmine?"

"Yes, you remember him. He contacted me, you see."

Alon looked incredulous.

'But I didn't do anything to him! ... Besides, how many weeks has it been now?'

For a moment, he marveled at the pathetic wastrel who had gone scurrying to his friends to tattle after just over two weeks.

"I've received a few things from him myself, so I need to at least make a show of helping."

"You waited here all this time just to make that show?"

"More precisely, I was waiting to be notified. Every carriage coming from the Kingdom of Asteria passes through here."

Biran shook his head as though it were regrettable but unavoidable, leaving Alon feeling dizzy. A noble's influence certainly diminished considerably in another kingdom, but not so much that he should be treated this way right outside its gates.

"So what do you intend to do?"

"I'll give you two choices. The goods in your carriage look quite expensive. Why not give them all to us as gifts?"

"And the other choice?"

"Spend about three weeks in the dungeon."

"... You do realize I'm a noble from another country?"

Alon asked because an ordinary noble would naturally be held responsible for imprisoning a foreign noble without any justification. But the reply left him dumbfounded.

"I am Lord Piola's one and only direct disciple."

In effect, Biran was saying, "I'm important enough that I can pull this shit without suffering any consequences."

What was even more ridiculous was that Biran was right to some extent. Here, Alon was merely a foreign noble, while Biran was a Master Knight's sole direct disciple.

'Birds of a feather really do flock together.'

As Alon sighed, thinking that wastrels really did keep company with their own kind, Biran gave him a nasty smile.

"But honestly, whichever you choose, the result will be much the same."

He lifted his sword and casually nudged it against Alon's stomach.

"After all, my friend only asked for one thing."

"..."

Biran threatened Alon without the slightest hesitation.

Evan, who had remained still until now, began to scowl. Just as his hand instinctively moved toward the sword at his waist, a voice sounded from behind them.

"Hah, ah—!"

Alon and Biran turned toward it. There, Alon saw him.

'Deus Makalian...?'

Deus was walking toward them in black iron armor, his expression icy.

The instant he appeared, the air before the gate grew impossibly heavy. Only one man had arrived, yet the soldiers' eyes widened as they adjusted their stances. Even the knights, who had looked so relaxed moments earlier, straightened up tensely.

"Loyalty!"

The soldiers who had been leisurely watching the situation unfold raised their swords in unison and saluted as soon as they saw Deus. He did not look at them.

"We greet the Great Sword!"

The knights of Yuzon, the order Biran had brought with him, likewise cried out respectfully. Deus paid them no attention either. Instead, he walked straight toward Alon. Seeing him approach, Biran hurriedly pulled his sword away from Alon and tried to speak.

CRUNCH!

"Gah—!"

Deus's hand closed around his throat.

"Wh-what—!"

Biran hastily grabbed Deus's hand and tried to protest.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

At Deus's words, Biran's face turned deathly pale in his grip.

"How dare you do this to my benefactor."