The 9th Class Swordmaster: Blade of Truth

Chapter 152: The Hunt (5)

"The empire’s in quite a mess," Fran Lurein remarked. He was more interested in the ongoing conflict between the empire and the southern region across the sea than in the incoming reports.

Anthem Howard chuckled at his childlike curiosity but still offered a word of caution.

"Your Grace, we must also focus on our own matters. Duke Lachiel the Fifth and Duke Bonitos the Sixth have gathered their forces outside Cove."

"What are their numbers?"

"Duke Lachiel has brought twenty thousand, and Duke Bonitos has brought ten thousand."

As if anticipating Fran’s questions, Anthem Howard went on, "Yes, it's fewer than expected. However, Duke Ruiche has promised to bring thirty thousand troops."

"Ruiche, that child has always been loyal to me. But it seems Lachiel and Bonitos have deceived him."

Fran's words elicited a faint smile from Anthem. In total, Lachiel and Bonitos had around eighty thousand troops at their disposal. Offering only thirty thousand suggested that they were preparing for any eventuality.

They’re only looking out for themselves...

In contrast, Ruiche, the youngest of the dukes, had a much poorer territory and could barely raise forty thousand troops. Yet he was committing thirty thousand to support Fran—nearly his entire army.

"They think there's a chance I might lose, don't they?" Fran said with a disapproving look. "War is about victory and defeat. An ambiguous ally is less useful than a clear enemy who can be turned into a supporter later. When I march into the White Bunker, I'll have to decide whether to spare them or cut their heads off."

Anthem found himself rubbing his neck at Fran's casual threat of executing his siblings.

Of course... He’s ruthlessly cold.

Fran Lurein was renowned for his exceptional combat skills and leadership. However, he hadn’t received the moniker of Iron King for no reason—he was cold and calculated. This kind of demeanor was admired in a monarch, but a king needed more than just strength.

"..."

Anthem sometimes felt conflicted about Fran, who differed from his ideal image of a king.

"The time has come."

But worrying about such things now was pointless. Their forces were already waiting for orders.

"Indeed." Fran nodded. "Just as Karyl predicted."

Until now, Fran had hesitated to make a move, concerned that the principality's military strength, strong enough to rival the empire, would become divided, creating an opportunity for the empire to strike.

"But he wasn’t faking his confidence.”

Fran recalled his tense conversation with Karyl.

"The principality can keep the emperor safe."

Although Karyl claimed to hold the emperor's life in his hands, Fran remained skeptical. Yet, with the empire deploying the princes to resolve the issue with the southern tribes, the situation became increasingly intriguing.

All three princes have failed.

Losing forty thousand troops under Luon was a significant blow to the empire, but not a devastating one.

But what kind of person is Titan Shutean? With his personality, he’ll have no choice but to act to restore the empire's honor.

In such a scenario, even Titan, known as the Conqueror King, would struggle to face both the principality and Digon at the same time.

Karyl, have you perhaps orchestrated this as well?

Although it was difficult to verify events across the southern sea, the expeditions of the three princes seemed too coincidental, from the appearance of the Sand Serpent in Istria to the retreat of the Guidance Mercenary Gang.

In that case, you’re a more secretive, meticulous, and formidable opponent than the Wooden Cloud.

Before Karyl left, Fran provoked him during their negotiations about the roots of the Wooden Cloud to gauge his intentions. Though Fran aimed to assert his dominance, Karyl killed seven soldiers as a demonstration and departed.

Even if you’re involved in the empire’s affairs, it doesn’t matter. You can’t possibly influence the principality’s matters.

Fran shook his head, trying to dispel the eerie feeling Karyl left him with.

Even if you have the Ravat Guild under your control, those two can’t change the tide on their own, he thought as he looked at the large building visible in the distance.

"Anthem, keep a close watch on the Ravat Guild members."

"I will."

"We will reclaim that place."

"Of course, Your Grace."

Fran nodded decisively and ordered with determination, "March!"

Cheers erupted outside the harbor as if on cue, the soldiers’ roars filling the air.

A new war was beginning on a foreign land across the sea, one that would reshape the history of the continent.

***

“What are you thinking about?”

“Oh, nothing. Sorry.”

Martte quickly composed himself at Viscount Harun’s question. Several days had passed since his meeting with Tiren, but the message left by his brother continued to haunt him, leaving him disconcerted.

“Stay alert. We’re the only ones who can protect His Highness. I understand your mixed feelings, since your brothers are with Prince Kromen, but you know Sir Kuwell’s thoughts well.”

“Of course.”

Martte knew that his father, Kuwell, had decided on who ought to inherit the throne. The entire empire was aware of this fact. At this juncture, where three princes were competing, Martte and Kuwell had to ensure Olivurn achieved success no matter what.

But...

That was what made it all the more confusing.

Could it be... Could His Highness truly...

Even though Tiren had told him about it, Martte still couldn’t believe that Olivurn, trusted and beloved by all, would kill his own brother.

It can’t be. Tiren must be mistaken. Perhaps all that trouble with the barbarians has taken a toll on him, clouding his judgment.

That was what Martte thought, or rather, what he wanted to think.

“Viscount, what should we do now?”

“We must wait for His Highness’ orders, but it won’t be long. Since Prince Kromen is with him, we must consider his intentions as well.”

“Prince Kromen’s?”

Harun nodded at Martte’s question.

"He seemed to have had a hard time in the south. He’s mentally fragile. For now, Prince Olivurn will personally take care of the Third Prince until he regains his wits, then we’ll decide our course of action."

"Personally? The prince himself?"

Harun nodded at Martte’s question.

“Yes. His Highness has always had a special fondness for Prince Kromen.”

"But... isn't that what the servant, Mr. Kaplan, is for?"

“What does that matter? How could a servant be better than an older brother taking care of his younger brother?” Harun replied sternly, his face hardening as if Martte’s question offended him.

Knock, knock...

They were interrupted by a knock at the door. Standing in the hallway, Vice Captain Jervangh of the Wisteria Knights bowed his head slightly as he greeted them.

“The herbs His Highness requested have been prepared. Shall I bring them in?”

“No need. You’ve done well. His Highness Olivurn said he would prepare the medicine himself.”

Jervangh, clearly impressed, responded with a low exclamation, “Truly, His Highness Olivurn is admirable in every way.”

Harun nodded, seeming to take the compliment as his own.

“We’ll be staying here for a while. As you know, we’re at Marquis Vestal’s property. It would be unwise for Prince Kromen to travel to the capital in his current state.”

“Understood.”

“So His Highness ordered all guards around Prince Kromen’s quarters to be dismissed.”

Thud...

"It’s not that I don’t trust your men, but there are also the marquis' people here," Harun said.

"It's fine. Not even the marquis can interfere if it’s the prince’s orders. I'll ensure Prince Kromen can rest peacefully," Jervangh replied.

"We'll handle the guard duty, so don't worry," Harun assured him.

"Yes, sir," Jervangh responded, saluting Harun before leaving the room.

After he left, Harun addressed Martte and the other knights in the room, "We will continue to wait here for Prince Olivurn's orders, as we have been doing. As I mentioned earlier, only Prince Olivurn will have access to Prince Kromen's quarters."

“Yes, sir!”

“Understood.”

The knights nodded at Harun’s words, secretly relieved to be staying comfortably at the marquis’ estate rather than on the battlefield.

"Excuse me, Viscount Harun," Martte said in a quavering voice.

“What is it?”

“I understand that the princes want to be alone, but since this is Marquis Vestal’s property, shouldn’t we post guards...?”

Harun’ expression hardened momentarily before he composed himself and replied, "I have just explained to Jervangh the reasons for removing the watch guards, and I believe you have heard it as well. Don't worry, I'll ensure their safety.”

“Ah... I see.”

Martte licked his dry lips, unable to hide his unease. He didn’t doubt Harun’s abilities. After all, he was the strongest knight accompanying Olivurn.

“Then you all should rest now.”

“What about you, Viscount?”

Harun seemed slightly irritated with Martte.

"Why do you ask so many questions today? Of course, I'll be in the building where Prince Olivurn and Prince Kromen's quarters are,” he responded sharply.

“Yes, sir.”

At that moment, Martte felt a wave of anxiety wash over him.

All the herbs have been prepared.

Jervangh's words from earlier echoed in his mind.

***

"..."

How much time had passed? The ticking of the clock on the wall was unbearably loud.

Stop thinking about useless things.

The others were puzzled by Martte’s restlessness, looking at him with confused expressions.

Tap, tap, tap.

Martte fidgeted in his chair, causing the others to keep staring at him. The knights frowned slightly, clearly irritated by his constant foot-tapping on the floor.

"Is something wrong with you?" one knight asked, placing a hand on Martte's shoulder.

"..."

Martte, lost in thought with his chin resting on his interlocked hands, did not even glance at the knight speaking to him.

"Good grief..."

The knights, who had worked with Martte long enough to know he wasn't normally this rude, found his behavior increasingly strange.

"It's getting late. Let's get ready for the night watch. While we don't need to worry about Prince Kromen's quarters, we still need to ensure this place is guarded properly."

"Of course."

"Come on, let's get ready."

As though it were just another routine day, the knights stretched and rose from their seats one by one. Only a few preparing for their shift started to gather their equipment.

Bang!

Suddenly, the door to the room burst open with a loud bang that echoed all the way down the corridor.

All eyes turned to one person—Martte MacGovern.

"Ha... ha...."

His heart pounded so hard that merely breathing felt like it would make his chest explode.

"What the... What are you doing?!" a knight shouted as Martte pushed past him and ran out into the corridor.

However, Martte didn’t even hear him.

I've gone mad......

He knew perfectly well how reckless and dangerous his actions were.

Thud, thud, thud!

But despite that, he ran down the corridor as fast as he could.

"Stop him!!"

There was one thing he believed in, without a doubt. If his father, Kuwell MacGovern, were in the same situation, he would undoubtedly have done the same.

***

"How long did it take?"

"Three days."

"For Olivurn's temperament, he held out quite a while. He must have been itching to act immediately."

Standing on the airship with his arms crossed, Gordon Fabian turned his head, holding a large cigar in his mouth.

Karyl was with him.

"You speak the prince's name so casually,” Gordon remarked. “It’s almost as if you're talking about an old friend."

"We're not friends, nor do I wish for us to be.”

"Hmph, you brat."

Gordon's eyes flickered slightly as he looked at Karyl standing beside him.

"It might actually turn out as you predicted. Did you foresee all of this, or is this part of your plan too?"

Karyl, looking at the building where Kromen was staying, answered calmly, as if it wasn't over yet, "Both."