Chapter 128

Chapter 128

***

Rickart chose a road where he could ride his horse refreshingly even if it took a detour, rather than the path he had traveled with Roy's family, and headed towards Nibelungen.

Because the branches of the Flame Knights were located everywhere in the Empire, and one of them was in Nibelungen.

Following the road alongside the hills against the river flow, he ran into a knight slowly riding his horse from the opposite side.

He was a person who shaved his beard and only kept a bushy mustache, and the soldiers following him were about ten.

At a certain distance, he first raised his palm next to his face, and Rickart did the same. It was a kind of hand signal indicating they were not enemies.

After confirming they had no hostility toward each other, they slowly approached. The opponent greeted first.

"I am Winterloken, the manor knight of Cohen. And you?"

"I am Rickart of Stormhearts."

"Stormhearts? Ah, you must be of the Kaldebern House?"

Since nobles basically memorize heraldry and noble houses, upon hearing the region they roughly knew which house it was.

Of course, that was only for people who studied hard, and there were also many who hadn't learned to read so there were cases where they didn't know well. So when nobles gathered they held banquets every time to familiarize themselves with each other's faces.

The person named Winterloken estimated whether Rickart was a genuine noble or not by looking at his tall and handsome features, healthy hair, neat attire, and the sword worn at his waist and horse.

Although not all were like that, commoners mostly had uneven teeth, malnutrition, shabby clothes, and especially no money to ride horses around so one could tell their status just by a glance.

"That's right."

"From the looks of it it doesn't seem you are heading somewhere because of a summon?"

"I have business so I'm heading to Nibelungen. Where is Sir Cohen headed?"

"A summon order was issued for me. Last autumn. Swept the harvest and stockpiled food, and now I'm hitting the road. But heading to Nibelungen at a time like these days doesn't seem like a very good idea."

"Why so?"

"I heard since Prince Bellator became the Crown Prince himself, he is purging the nobles. You might inadvertently meet disaster if you go there for nothing."

Bellator was originally the 5th Prince, with four older brothers above him.

The eldest son was the Crown Prince but died prematurely and his young son became the Crown Prince. The 2nd Prince was kept in check early on and became a Count far from Nibelungen, and the 4th Prince was killed at the hands of commoners during the Inquisition incident.

In the midst of that, Bellator personally killed his nephew, the Crown Prince, framed the 3rd Prince to dispose of him, and then seized Nibelungen, biding his time against the 2nd Prince for the throne. That was the current state of the Imperial Family.

There was no way for Rickart to know that secret history. When he fought the swordsmanship tournament he fainted from poison and was carried away by Marie on her back.

"Rumor has it Prince Bellator personally buried the Crown Prince. And framed his older brother, the 3rd Prince. If you stay beside that cunning fox you might meet disaster."

Usually people believe groundless rumors in the world, but sometimes those groundless rumors were accurate.

The reason such rumors spread was because of the moves Bellator had shown over the past 4 years. He was very adept at purging nobles.

No matter if one is a King or Emperor, they could not arbitrarily kill nobles. However, if they sufficiently build justifications and surprise arrest them to hold them accountable, it wasn't impossible.

Building those justifications were a very difficult task, but Bellator did such things well. Very subtly.

However, Rickart just laughed off Winterloken's words.

"Hahaha, I will treat it as if I didn't hear it."

"Mm, it was slip of the tongue. However, that is my sincere heart. Even so, if you insist on going, I will not stop you."

"Anyway, does that mean you support the 2nd Prince, Sir?"

"No. We Frederns decided to survive amongst ourselves."

"Ah......"

The term Frederns was a remnant of ancient tribal times. Adelorns, Beringens, Nibelung Tribe, all those were words referring to people living in specific regions before the Empire was established.

Since it was currently a feudal society much of the tribal culture had disappeared, but it remained strongly in the minds of the people. Treating even fellow Imperials almost like strangers stemmed from this.

The great tribal chiefs of that time were precisely the current Dukes, Margraves, or Kings. Of course, in the case of Adelorn, it had been a Kingdom since much older times.

Anyway, the Frederns, that is, the Duke of Frederia and his subordinate lords, seemed to have resolved to survive themselves when signs of civil war appeared.

In a word, it meant they didn't care who became Emperor, and whoever caused them harm would be their enemy.

"I wish you luck in war. Ah, recently monsters like goblins were sighted, so having gathered troops, it might be good to wipe them out early."

"I've also seen them. I am a bit worried. I wish you luck in war."

Rickart and Winterloken simply chatted about the affairs of the world before parting ways.

Rickart passed him by and accelerated again to ride. Even as the wind blew he didn't feel much coolness.

Because the anxiety boiling beneath the ground felt like lava increasingly breaking through the surface.

The road ahead was long.

Rickart rode consecutively for two days and arrived in Nibelungen. The night sky sparkled with stars, suiting Nibelungen, a large city without city walls, well.

Although any city tends to be quiet at night, the silence in Nibelungen right now seemed exceptionally heavier.

Loud chatter from inside taverns or buildings couldn't be heard much either, and somehow everyone seemed somewhat intimidated.

Since a bloodbath swept through once after the Inquisition incident, and purges continued after that, it was understandable.

Naturally, Rickart quietly passed the streets too. The sound of clop, clop horse hooves echoed bleakly on the street alone.

Then he reached the temple building which served as the branch of the Flame Knights, and one soldier was guarding the main gate. As he approached him, the soldier stared blankly up at Rickart.

"I wish to see the branch manager."

"......What branch manager?"

"The Flame Knights."

"Well, guess he died while being tortured."

The soldier spoke the shocking news in an indifferent tone. Among his bewilderment, Rickart asked what happened.

"Why was he tortured?"

"He's a bastard who worshipped demons so he deserves to be tortured."

"What does that mean? Are you saying the Flame Knights are followers of demons?"

"Apparently so? If he wasn't a follower of demons, he'd assert his innocence even under severe torture. But already several confessed. That they worshipped demons."

Finding them guilty with confessions obtained through torture as evidence? Whatever bullshit that was, truthfully this was the typical method of the Inquisition.

Rickart felt various doubts but to tell the soldier before him off now wasn't the time.

"So are they all dead now?"

"No, just one is left. Named Edmund. He refuses to confess till the end, he's unusually resilient. It's clear as day he's holding out with the power of demons."

Edmund was the person who came to pick up Rickart's older brother, Vilter, when he joined the Order.

Because it wasn't extremely rare for nobles to have the exact same name, it could be a different person with the same name, but now wasn't the time to scrutinize that.

Rickart visited just in case he could receive the help of the Flame Knights, but decided to put off other things for now.

"Is he here? Could I see him for a moment? It's because I used to know him."

"Hm? You can't do that. If by chance you get implicated, you will be in danger, Sir."

"Please, I ask of you."

Rickart dismounted and brought out a single gold coin, holding it out.

Then the soldier glared and was about to firmly refuse, but for that it was too much money.

As the gold coin caught the light of the nearby torch and sparkled, he quietly snatched the gold coin and put it in his bosom.

"Tie the horse far away."

Rickart went far, turned a corner, tied his horse, and returned to the temple, then the soldier quietly opened the door. And then accompanied Rickart down to the underground dungeon.

He whispered quietly to the jailer, but since it was a place where sound echoed, he heard everything.

"It's a gold coin, you fucking bitch."

"......You should've said so earlier."

"I told you at the start, retard."

The soldier and the jailer had a slight scuffle, but it seemed to resolve well anyway. The jailer guided Rickart bowing excessively. For them, money was simply their master.

"Come this way, my lord."

Rickart followed him and walked for a while. The damp underground dungeon was mixed with the smell of blood and filth. In the corners mice squeaked and wandered openly.

The jailer stopped in front of a certain iron cage, the inside of which was dark so it couldn't be seen well. Rickart took the torch hanging nearby to check. A devastated appearance was revealed under the dim light.

"Open the door."

Then the jailer hesitated briefly, then just opened the door. Because even he wanted to run away, he wouldn't be able to.

Creak, the iron cage door opened, and Rickart went inside. The prisoner had collapsed miserably with his wet hair hanging down, his head completely lowered.

Traces of consecutive torture were evident. First his fingernails were pulled out, then his finger joints were cut one by one, and tendons like behind his heels, back of knees, and crook of elbows were burnt and ruined by branding irons.

Amidst that, a faint breath could be felt. It was amazing he was still alive in this state. Was it the power of a demon, or the power of God.

"I am Rickart of Stormhearts. 8 years ago, my older brother, Vilter, joined the Flame Knights. The knight who came then was Edmund. I have the memory of talking back slightly, thinking he was insolent to my father. Even though I didn't like him, I definitely felt he was a proper knight. Are you, by any chance, that Edmund?"

Silence flowed. Can he not hear sound. Can he hear, but is not conscious.

Then at some point, Edmund muttered and whispered. Rickart put his ear to him. He spoke in a very small voice, desperately.

"......I am, innocent......"

Rickart slyly pulled away from him again.

"I am neither a jailer nor a torturer. I am the son of Abellich, the younger brother of Vilter, Rickart. I will remember your words. Do you have anything you want to say to someone, or as your final words?"

Then he exhaled faint breaths a few times, and slowly raised his head. Where his two eyes should have been were only black holes. The blood that flowed from there had hardened.

Rickart didn't frown his face at all, didn't turn his gaze away, and just calmly looked at his terrible state.

"The reliquary, to the headquarters......"

Leaving those words, he dropped his head again. He wondered if he was dead, but alas so cruel, why is he alive.

Rickart wanted to end his suffering, but couldn't bring himself to do it. He didn't know what to do.

Standing up from his seat, he exited the prison and asked the jailer.

"Where is the reliquary of the Order?"

"Reliquary? Well, I think confiscated property was mostly taken away. Ah, if you find it interesting do you want to take a look?"

The jailer grinned showing his dirty teeth. Hating to even mix words, Rickart merely nodded.

The place the jailer took him to was where the Order's treasures they siphoned off in the middle were. Taking away not just one or two, the amount was quite heavy.

Unable to siphon off conspicuous things like silver candlesticks or silver chalices, most were plucked off from wherever they were decorating.

Of course this wasn't all for one person to have. It was meant for the soldiers among themselves, and people they knew to sell as stolen goods and share.

Whether to call it fortunate or unfortunate, a small box crudely decorated with jewels commonly called the Seven Treasures caught his eye.

The material was wood, but decorated with gold leaf, gold, silver, glass, crystal, pearls, agate, and coral. Seeing there was a keyhole, it couldn't be opened without breaking it.

The jailer and his acquaintances seemed to intend to sell this entirely. Rickart grabbed the reliquary and just took it.

"Uh, uh? Hey!"

The jailer hurriedly stopped Rickart, but when Rickart turned around, the tip of a dagger was pointed under the jailer's chin. The cold gaze was sharper than the blade.

"Since it's stolen goods anyway, I will steal it too. Any complaints?"

"......Though I may be a lowly fellow, I possess some bit of wisdom you see? Where in the world is there a treasure more precious than life? Please, take it."

Surprisingly the jailer spoke fluently without trembling. It seemed it wasn't his first or second time getting robbed.

Rickart retrieved his dagger and walked outside without looking back.

Leaving the temple, he untied the tied reins, and headed towards where the palace was. He grabbed an inn room nearby.

But he couldn't fall asleep. So he lit a candle, kept watch over the reliquary shining dimly with hand smudges, and stayed up all night.

As soon as dawn broke the next day, he headed to the palace. To ask Bellator directly what was going on.

Naturally, as someone wearing a sword on their waist approached, the royal guards stopped him. Rickart spoke calmly.

"I am the winner of the Imperial Swordsmanship Tournament, Rickart. I came to see Prince Bellator."

"Not Prince, His Highness the Crown Prince. Watch your words. Because you might receive a flogging."

The royal guard glared coldly and warned him, and Rickart too merely met his gaze with a cold stare. Mild tension flowed.

However, the royal guard quietly sent someone to inform that Rickart had come.

A moment later, someone came out from inside and said.

"Sir Rickart, please come in."

Rickart followed him and walked. The imperial palace was a familiar sight since he had come in the past. It was a place where the original form of the forest was maximally preserved and merely trimmed neatly.

However, the place the guide took him to wasn't towards the palace. Merely moving their steps into the forest, naturally, it was the defense tower where Marie was locked up in the past.

Bellator was sitting near the stone block nearby, eating food brought by the chef on the spot.

All were made with things obtained from the forest, such as wild raspberries, truffles, hunted deer, freshwater crayfish, and the like.

4 years having passed, Bellator was already a 15-year-old adult, wearing the appearance of a full-fledged young man. Perhaps because he was Marie's half-brother, his skin was white like snow, he had bright blond hair, and above all, his blue jewel-like pupils were brilliant.

Seeing Rickart, he smiled warmly, washed the seasoning off his hands with water, and wiped them on a handkerchief.

Rickart offered greetings first.

"It has been a long time, Your Highness."

"It's been a while, Master."

Rickart had briefly taught Bellator along with the Crown Prince back then. There wasn't much to call him Master or disciple because of that, but anyway, Bellator seemed to consider him a Master.

"It's a place full of memories, isn't it?"

Bellator looked back at the defense tower and said.

Rickart recalled the time when Marie was locked up here, the previous Crown Prince and the 3rd Prince bullied her. He stepped forward confidently to block them from bullying, and Bellator watched from afar.

"Is that so."

"I hear people feel a sense of kinship when they share memories, does Master feel that too?"

"A little."

"I see...... What a relief. I have to meet other important people, but I sent them all away to see Master. Because you're one of the few people I like."

"Thank you, Your Highness. But to get to the point, I have questions regarding the Flame Knights. Who is the person who accused them? Is it truly certain they committed crimes?"

Still carrying a smile, Bellator quietly looked at Rickart, and said like this.

"No. They have no crimes. And there's no accuser."

Not understanding the context, Rickart lost his words.

"There's a need for them to die, and a need to place dishonor upon them so we place it, that is all. Does that answer your question?"

"Why, is that?"

"An easygoing creditor cannot live long. A large amount of money is needed to wage a war, and it's best to eliminate debts in advance."

The more Rickart heard the words, the harder it was to accept.

"The Flame Knights cover their finances with the financial business. The right given to them by Bellator I in the past while having them guard the border. Now I will take it. That right. And concurrently eliminating the money the Imperial Family borrowed so far too."

Spouting such nonsense casually, unconcerned, and openly, Rickart truly didn't know what to say.

Fabricating a crime that didn't exist, torturing them terribly, destroying even their honor, and killing them, simply because it was necessary?

"There will be complaints. The Flame Knights are the Empire's strongest assault unit."

"So what will they do? No matter how excellent a servant's skills are, a servant is just a servant. They don't have the capacity to come all the way here to conduct operations, and moreover they rejected my call. In an era like these days, there is no middle ground. If you don't take my side, you are all enemies."

It seemed he had indeed requested the Flame Knights to participate in the war but was rejected.

But it didn't seem he purged them simply due to pent-up feelings; it seemed he decided to organize them for various reasons. The money issue was the biggest reason.

Actually speaking strictly from a political point of view it was an excellent tactic. However, since Rickart wasn't a politician, he felt his stomach churn.

"Does Master think I'm like a cunning and insidious fox too?"

Bellator said still smiling. He seemed to know all too well what the world called him.

"One person is still alive. The knight named Edmund, what happens to him?"

"If he had confessed early on he would have been cleanly beheaded. But since he denied it till the end he'll be burnt at the stake. I received a report he looks like he'll die soon so I'll do it sometime today, though I don't plan to go and watch."

"I'll ask just one thing. Do you really feel nothing? Such as apologies, or guilt."

"When a desperate moment strikes, an unknown 'me' comes out. At such times, what's important is not hesitating. They were Master's words to me. Apologetic feelings are born by ordinary people. They aren't feelings a person who must decide and command should harbor. Since they're just an obstacle."

"......Do you want to become Emperor so badly you would go so far?"

"No. I look beyond the Emperor. Human history is the process of widely and thoroughly projecting a monarch's dominance. Though I wonder if you will understand. The Imperial power reached its peak during the time of Martellus II, and has been on a decline since then. My incompetent father almost ruined it completely. My duty is to turn that around, and strengthen it further. Won't order be established in the world and be peaceful that way? Master hasn't learned much but you are smart. I believe you will understand my words."

"......"

Though an adult, Bellator was still young, yet his personal philosophy was thoroughly developed. And that firm philosophy had no room to squeeze into.

Therefore, what was the use of saying anything.

"I will withdraw."

"Before that, when you finish organizing Adelorn, come and pledge loyalty to me, Red Prince. Make a promise right here before you go."

Rickart lowered his head and pondered quietly, then raised his head again and answered.

"No. I cannot make that promise."

Rickart flatly refused. However surprisingly, Bellator's smile deepened.

"Do you know why I like you Master?"

"I don't know."

"You talk straight. Truly without hiding anything to the point I wonder if it's okay for you to do so. We seem truly different. Don't we?"

"Well, Your Highness the Crown Prince's eyes are just the same."

"Me? In what way?"

"Arrogance. The arrogance of being above anyone else in the world. You were like that in the past. Even when the previous Crown Prince was alive, even when the Emperor was alive. The arrogance believing everyone without exception is below you."

"Is that so? Haha..."

Getting to know Bellator closely, he had an easygoing personality. Kind of like Rickart when he was young.

However, the source was exactly the opposite. Since Bellator looked down on every human in the world except himself, he just treated them equally.

At the words piercing through Bellator's essence, he let out a pleasant laugh. Instead of his previous mask-like smile.

And after savoring his Master's words for a moment, he spoke again.

"If you intend to become a king, keep this in mind. A monarch is a solitary position. The best friend in the world, the closest wife, blood relative children, they can all become enemies."

"I don't know if I will become a king, but if I have to, I will take off the crown without any lingering attachments."

"Well, if it's Master I guess that might be possible. Go. It was a pleasant conversation after a long time."

Bellator said while turning his head. The smile on his lips disappeared at some point.

Rickart left the Imperial Palace, went to the inn, packed his belongings, mounted his horse, and hit the road again. While leaving, he saw Edmund's burning at the stake progressing in the plaza.

People gathered like clouds, firewood was stacked, and Edmund was tied to the stake.

The priest asked him for the last time.

"Will you confess your sins?"

Then Edmund, who was drooping as if dead, slowly raised his head.

His tongue, which had been left to secure a confession amidst countless tortures, and his lungs stirred vigorously as if flaring up a final flame.

"I am! Innocent! I have! No sins!"

"Execute the punishment."

The flustered priest hurriedly said. But the final confession of the non-prisoner prisoner wasn't finished.

"I am! Innocent! I have! No sins!"

At the firm shout, the people who only came out to watch a terrible execution muttered as well. But eventually the firewood was set on fire, and it quickly blazed up. Flesh roasted sizzlingly.

Edmund trembled violently and shouted till the end.

"I am the Flame Knights! Oh flame, burn up! Blazing burn! Convey my wrath to God! Oh God! Sing the wrath! Bring down judgment......!"

Rickart lowered his head. His shout pounded on Rickart's heart. He asserted his innocence till the end, and prayed to God for revenge.

An eternity of time had passed since the universe was born, and it will continue to flow like that in the future too, but Edmund's final shout stamped a stigma in this very moment. That he was innocent.

Therefore, no matter what sentence was given to him, no matter what dishonor was placed upon him, they would merely be crushed to pieces by that burning stigma.

Even if they don't receive the help of the Flame Knights, Rickart promised to definitely deliver the reliquary to the headquarters.

And his flame-like wrath, and stigma-like innocence together with it.