Chapter 78 - The Count’s Domain (8)

“Answer me. How long do you intend to keep your wife waiting?”

The Count could not make sense of the situation. Where had the Apostle and the mage gone, and why were a boy and a girl here instead?

Had the report been wrong? Impossible. Every last Fell God Society believer had been terrified. The Book of Doom, too, had indicated an Apostle’s descent. While its record did not specify where the Apostle had appeared, all the circumstances pointed to a summoning in Deathshadow.

The Count calmed himself and studied Yohan and Ilea. Even with his wife held hostage, he clung to reason. Desperate though he was, he never betrayed his anxiety. True to his epithet, the Blue Demon, his heart was cold.

He spoke.

“Are you the Apostle’s servants? I wish to speak with the Apostle directly.”

Yohan let out an exclamation of admiration.

“As expected of you, Cromwell. Even this doesn’t shake you much. No, I should say you hide it well. Either way, impressive.”

In truth, the Count was frantic with anxiety. He wanted to rush over and drag them away from his wife. Naturally, he did no such thing. Acting on emotion always came at a price. He had to learn what cards his opponents held and what forces they had at their disposal before making a move. The Count was a seasoned negotiator and fighter.

He said, “You seem to know me, yet I know nothing about you. If you want a deal, would you first tell me who you are?”

Yohan nodded.

“A reasonable request. Very well. I’ll give you my name. Yohan von Miyatro. I’m sure you’ve heard it often enough.”

The Count’s eyebrow twitched almost imperceptibly. He was probably quite taken aback. His history with Yohan ran fairly deep.

The moment Yohan appeared, the Count’s plan to swallow up the baronial house had been thwarted. Kril Miyatro’s suicide had robbed him of his pretext.

And that was not all. Kembel, the knight he had sent to the baronial house as a messenger, had abruptly betrayed House Staviana. Though the knight Maira had told him the reason, the Count could not accept it. All this talk of chivalry, after so long? No matter how he looked at it, that did not explain the betrayal.

The truth remained unclear in both incidents involving Yohan. The Count loathed such unknown quantities and had been wary of Yohan himself.

And now Yohan had appeared before him. As if a situation entirely beyond his control were not bad enough, the person who troubled him most had entered the picture.

Concealing his disquiet as best he could, the Count said, “You are that bastard son of House Miyatro?”

Yohan chuckled.

“Don’t believe me? Here’s your proof.”

He drew a sheet of paper from inside his clothes and tossed it to the Count.

“... The invitation I sent.”

The Count examined it closely. The seal was unmistakably his house’s. There was no sign of forgery.

Yohan said, “I’ve told you who I am. I’m your guest. Can I have an answer to my question now?”

A moment earlier, Yohan had given the Count two choices.

First, follow his wife into the afterlife.

Second, bring her back to life and grow old with her.

The Count had yet to answer.

He spoke.

“I’m sorry, but I still know nothing about you. First, I would like to hear what your relationship with the Apostle is. Surely I must know whether you have full authority over the Heavenly Womb before we can make any deal?”

Ilea smiled gently.

“A fair point. But only between equals. Your wife’s life is in our hands. Let’s see if you can say the same as we decide her fate.”

She swung open the Heavenly Womb’s glass lid, leaving the skeleton exposed and defenseless. At the same time, a long icicle formed in midair and began descending slowly.

Toward the Count’s wife.

The Count flinched.

“Do nothing rash. You arranged all this because there is something you want, did you not? If Yeriyan is harmed, I will have nothing more to discuss with you. Stop this at once.”

No answer came. The icicle merely continued toward the skeleton.

The Count found himself utterly at a loss. He had no forces here to help him. He had been unable to bring even a mage or a knight. Because of Belzarak, he alone could enter and leave this chamber. Even Belzarak, his sole hope, did not answer his call.

He stood rigid, unable to act. The icicle was about to pierce the skeleton.

Steadying his breathing, he said, “I was rash. Please stop.”

The icicle stopped abruptly in midair, its tip just touching the skeleton. Ilea withdrew her mana, and the cold vanished like a mirage.

“Are you ready to talk now?”

Yohan glanced at her.

‘A witch is a witch, after all.’

She was digging into another person’s weakness without batting an eye. It was another reminder of her true nature. Whatever the case, Ilea had thoroughly cowed the Count, and Yohan was pleased.

The Count said, “... From this point onward, I shall treat you as the Apostle’s representatives in this discussion. Is that acceptable?”

Even in this predicament, he remained cautious. Yohan clicked his tongue in exasperation.

“Think whatever you like. Now let’s hear your choice.”

The Count answered without a moment’s hesitation.

“The second, of course. I want my wife brought back to life.”

Yohan replied calmly.

“Good. I shall grant your deepest wish.”

“... You will? Not the Apostle?”

“Just think of me as the Apostle.”

The Count started to object, then stopped himself. He merely let out a faint breath and asked, “How do you intend to bring her back?”

“With the Heavenly Womb’s power, of course. But I won’t corrupt it into an accursed object.”

The Count’s eyebrow twitched.

“Are you unaware? The Heavenly Womb cannot be used for personal purposes. This is not a matter of ethics. It is an unwritten law, an interdiction.”

The Heavenly Womb functioned only for a greater cause. Mere love could not stir it. The Count knew that full well, which was why he sought to corrupt it into an accursed object. Yeriyan would be reborn as a Demon rather than an angel, but he did not care, so long as he could see his wife again.

Yohan said, “That doesn’t matter. I have a greater cause. I’m more than capable of activating the Heavenly Womb.”

“You serve an Apostle, yet you claim to have a greater cause?”

“Let’s make one thing clear, Cromwell. I am no thrall to some Apostle.”

Yohan’s expression grew solemn. The Count looked at him in puzzlement. As their eyes met, a curious sense of trust welled up within him. The Great Saint’s eyes were at work.

“... A bewildering claim. You make me all the more curious about your relationship with the Apostle.”

“I share a purpose with the thirteenth end. For now, that is all you need to think of it as.”

To anyone’s eyes, Yohan was a mere boy, not yet fully grown. Could such a boy stand as an Apostle’s equal? It was difficult to accept rationally, yet a strange belief was taking root in the Count’s heart.

The Count said, “One final question. What are you to the Apostle?”

Yohan clicked his tongue.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I explained. See for yourself later. This discussion ends here.”

Yohan was Maphel’tan himself. Seeing it firsthand would be quicker than a hundred explanations.

The Count accepted this with surprising composure.

“Very well, for now. Returning to the matter at hand, show me some proof that you can activate the Heavenly Womb.”

Yohan laughed incredulously.

“I shouldn’t have used the word ‘deal.’ Let me correct myself. This is a threat. From now on, you make no demands of me.”

The Count kept trying to turn this conversation into a negotiation. Yohan did not like it. He had no intention of playing into the Count’s hands.

The Count said, “All you need do is show me that Yeriyan’s resurrection is possible. Surely I need at least some grounds to believe you?”

Yohan shook his head.

“Just hope I keep my promise. Grounds or no grounds, you have no choice.”

“You are not wrong. But bear this in mind. A relationship maintained through leverage alone is bound to break in the end. If you wield the stick, you must offer a carrot eventually.”

Yohan gave a hollow laugh.

“Don’t worry. The carrot is ready. Carry out my demands properly, and Yeriyan will rise again.”

The Count asked calmly, “Then what do you want from me?”

“Give House Miyatro your full support.”

Yohan needed a political foundation. No backing could be more solid than House Staviana’s.

“In what way, specifically?”

“The Church is investigating the south. First, have them withdraw.”

“An easy task.”

“Also, nominate me for a seat on the Council.”

The Council was the kingdom’s highest decision-making body. The moment he joined it, considerable power would be his.

The Count said, “I can do that right now. Is that all?”

“Of course not. There is one more, ultimate goal. In time, I will separate the baronial House of Miyatro from the kingdom.”

Long ago, Miyatro’s lands had been a duchy. Yohan intended to make House Miyatro great again.

“You mean to become a sovereign duke?”

Yohan nodded.

“That is still in the future.”

After a moment’s thought, the Count spoke.

“I will not call it impossible. But it will require considerable time and effort. You will need the emperor’s sanction as well.”

The baronial house’s independence was not something the kingdom could decide. It required permission from the Empire’s emperor. The Holy Kingdom would probably interfere as well. Even the Count could not bend the Empire and the Holy Kingdom to his will.

Yohan said, “Then work yourself to the bone. The moment I become a sovereign duke, Yeriyan will be resurrected.”

The Count was silent for a long while. Lost in thought, he finally spoke.

“As you know, House Miyatro is a candle in the wind. The Church is preparing a sweeping investigation, and your house cannot escape the repercussions. Your connection to the Apostle will probably come to light soon enough.”

Most of the recent incidents were connected to the south. Unless the Church was a pack of fools, it would soon send an investigative party there. The baronial house would probably fall. There was abundant evidence of Maphel’tan in its territory.

Yohan said, “What is your point?”

“From what I can see, you desperately need my power.”

In truth, without the Count’s help, Yohan would inevitably find himself in a very difficult position. His expression darkened.

“And?”

“I propose a deal.”

“I told you. Make no demands of me.”

The Count shook his head.

“We are in the same position. Each holds a blade to the other’s throat. If I die here, can you withstand the Church?”

That would indeed be very difficult. Yohan clicked his tongue.

“Cromwell, I have given you more than enough chances.”

Then he looked at Ilea. She assumed a regretful expression.

“How sad. Truly.”

At that very moment, an icicle fell onto Yeriyan’s head.

CRUNCH!

Her skull shattered into countless pieces. White dust scattered through the air.

The Count could not utter a word. He simply stood frozen.