Chapter 230 - Damn Reincarnation

Lehein

Excluding the members of the main family, Lionheart had brought one hundred knights to the Knight March: forty White Lions and sixty Black Lions.

The White Lion Knights, who guarded the main family, had always been numerous enough that the absence of forty posed no great problem. The same could not be said of the Black Lion Knights.

Black Lion Castle stood on Mount Uklas, on Kiel’s frontier. Beyond it lay the Great Forest of Samar. The forest’s natives were forever looking for opportunities to cross the mountain and enter Kiel illegally, while criminals from Kiel and other countries tried to cross the border to escape punishment. The Black Lions’ primary duty was to uphold the family constitution, but guarding the border on Mount Uklas earned them various privileges from Kiel, as well as recognition of their authority.

After the rebellion led by Eward a year ago, the Black Lion Knights had greatly expanded their forces. However, most of those reinforcements were young people from the collateral branches. Bringing all their original elite knights to the Knight March would have left the castle with nothing but new recruits.

The deputy commanders and half the original elite knights had stayed behind. As a result, quite a few of the Black Lions at the mansion were newcomers Eugene did not know.

“...”

Not every face was unfamiliar. Eugene looked at Gargis, who was thrusting his chest toward him as if showing off. Like Dezra, Gargis had joined the Black Lion Knights.

“...”

After a moment of silence, Eugene turned his head. Captain Genos stood beside Gargis. He had originally commanded the Second Division, but after Dominic’s death, his division had been renamed the First Division.

“... Ahem.”

Eugene cleared his throat softly under Genos’s gaze. It had been quite some time since he had seen either Genos or Gargis. ... The tears welling in Genos’s eyes left him at a loss.

‘What a magnificent achievement.’

Genos had last seen him at Black Lion Castle a year ago. Even then, Eugene had been unbelievably strong and growing at an absurd rate. Now another year had passed, and his achievements were enough to astound Genos.

Yet astonishment was not all Genos felt. Deep down, he also thought it only natural. He knew Eugene was Hamel, the hero of three hundred years ago. Although his body was twenty-one, the soul dwelling within it was no twenty-one-year-old youth. Such explosive growth was only to be expected.

... But Hamel had never learned Lionheart’s White Flame Formula in his past life. He had mastered an entirely different training method, and magic besides. And he had become the first person in Lionheart history to reach the White Flame Formula’s sixth star at twenty-one.

Genos regretted that there were other Lionhearts present. Had they been alone, he would have wept freely while singing Hamel’s praises.

He was still sorely tempted. Genos glanced to his side and saw Gargis’s face... a face that hardly seemed possible on a twenty-three-year-old.

“... Was there something you wanted to say to me...?”

Eugene ventured the question with a glance at Genos. Genos had plenty to say, but with Gargis beside him, he could not possibly say it.

“Hmm... You’ve had a long journey.”

“Where is the family head?”

“He went to the castle with the head of the Council of Elders to discuss our schedule here.”

Eugene nodded, then looked at Gargis, who still had his chest puffed out.

“... Why are you doing that?”

“Let’s take a bath.”

It struck Eugene as rather out of the blue, but he had no reason to refuse. He glanced back to find Kristina’s eyes sparkling as well. Naturally, she was not getting excited at the prospect of mixed bathing.

They had spent nearly a month crossing the snowfields. Magic had kept their bodies clean, but it could do nothing to satisfy the yearning to soak in a hot bath.

In the end, Eugene and Kristina followed Gargis to the baths. The mansion’s open-air baths occupied the entire backyard.

“Am I going in with you, too?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Go with Kristina.”

Leaving a pouting Mer with Kristina, Eugene entered the men’s bath with Gargis.

“Have you seen the Bayar locals?”

“I have.”

“They all have excellent muscles. Apparently, the hot springs here greatly aid muscle growth.”

“Is that so...?”

“Congratulations on reaching the sixth star of the White Flame Formula.”

“Thanks.”

“Aren’t you going to congratulate me?”

“Uh... Hmm... Congratulations on becoming a Black Lion...?”

“That isn’t the congratulations I came here to hear.”

The hot spring was wonderful. Eugene remembered Moron rambling about his homeland’s “hot river.” Vermouth had said a few things about it, too. Hadn’t he said that simply soaking in it relieved a great deal of fatigue? It really did.

[“Not just fatigue. That hot river runs with medicinal water that treats sickness and wounds. Simply soaking in it cures illnesses and heals injuries. It’s particularly good for the skin, so women loved it.”]

So it was. Narrowing his eyes, Eugene examined the hot spring water around him. It was rich with dissolved mana.

... The water rippled. Wondering what was going on, he looked to his side to find Gargis flexing his muscles....

“... You’re... um... in even better shape now.”

Yielding to the silent pressure, Eugene offered the words with a dubious expression. Only then did Gargis nod in satisfaction.

“There seems to be quite a debate over the joint training.”

“Because of the risks?”

“Yes. However careful you are, a stray blade can always take a life. It would be one thing if we all belonged to the same organization, but every order gathered at Lehein has a different affiliation. Add politics to that, and someone might deliberately turn their blade on another.”

The purpose of the Knight March was to unite the continent’s nations and knightly orders. Even children playing at war could get hurt, or die if they were unlucky. It was impossible to avoid casualties altogether when knights trained.

“Hadn’t they decided on friendly matches between orders and a field exercise to capture territory?”

“They had, but apparently Nahama’s Sultan is raising objections now. He says the climate here in the snowfields is completely different from the desert, and his desert warriors and assassins won’t be able to show their true abilities.”

“So what does he want to do?”

“Summon large numbers of monsters into Leheinyar and conduct an extermination exercise. It’s a sudden proposal, but several nations support the Sultan’s opinion.”

“Well, isn’t that lovely.”

Eugene knew why the Sultan had made that suggestion.

Nahama’s deserts had long been home to numerous mages’ dungeons, the desert environment being well suited to building underground dungeons. Just as Aroth’s factions were divided by magic tower, the desert’s were divided by dungeon.

Nahama’s sandcasters were also mages belonging to these dungeon factions. That did not mean the dungeons were equal to the magic towers. If they truly were, Aroth could never have monopolized the title of the Magic Kingdom.

Apart from the quality and number of their mages, there was another difference between Nahama and Aroth. Aroth’s royal family did not command the obedience of its magic towers. Nahama’s Sultan, however, did command the desert dungeons. If he had suggested “summoning” monsters, it meant he had brought dungeon mages who specialized in that sort of magic.

‘Looks like he doesn’t want to show everyone exactly what forces he has.’

The Sultan had made that proposal, and other kings supported it.

It was obvious. When two forces clashed, each could clearly gauge the other’s strength. This was no tavern brawl, but the Knight March, a gathering of the nations’ knightly orders. Friendly matches and training exercises though they might be, every contest put the honor of their nations and orders on the line. They could conceal their strength, but the more they concealed, the more they would lose, tarnishing their honor.

Against monsters, however, they would have little need to worry about that. The Sultan’s proposal had scratched precisely the itch of those national leaders who privately resented the Knight March itself.

Why was the Knight March being held?

Because the Demon King of Incarceration had delivered a warning to the world. A warning that Helmuth’s Demon King, silent for three hundred years, “might” break the peace and threaten the continent once again.

Who had first heard that warning? Eugene. Yet Kiel’s emperor, who had received Lionheart’s report, had never summoned Eugene even once.

The same was true of Aroth. At Eugene’s hearing, King Daindolf had delegated authority to his son Honein rather than attend himself.

The successor of Senya the Wise. The second coming of Vermouth the Great. The man who had heard a warning directly from the Demon King of Incarceration. As Aroth’s king, he should have had more than enough reasons to want to meet Eugene and speak with him. Yet Daindolf had avoided meeting him and scrupulously kept his distance.

‘Morons.’

Eugene scowled. Ultimately, this Knight March was a gathering that sounded impressive only in name. The kings did not believe the Demon King of Incarceration truly intended to shatter the peace. Eugene could understand it to some extent. Had he wished to do so, the Demon King had possessed both the opportunity and the power long ago.

[“I believe I have shown Vermouth’s descendants sufficient goodwill and respect over these three hundred years.”]

[“I accepted their freedom not to return that goodwill or respect me. But it is troublesome when continued goodwill is mistaken for an entitlement.”]

[“Freedom must come with responsibility. Freedom without responsibility is mere license. Descendant of Vermouth, convey this to Lionheart, and to everyone. Do not encroach upon the goodwill I extend. If you will not hold me in awe, I will no longer respect you.”]

That was the warning the Demon King of Incarceration had given beneath the desert. It had been quite explicit. The Knight March was effectively a show of force in response... but Eugene... doubted that the continent’s assembled strength could impress Helmuth’s Demon King.

‘I’m not sure they could manage it even if they were perfectly united, and all they’re thinking about is keeping their own assets hidden.’

Eugene thought things had turned out this way because the Demon King’s warning, while explicit, had left too much room for interpretation. He should have simply threatened to trample the continent within a few years. Instead, he had left considerable leeway. He would not respect them unless they held him in awe.... Didn’t that ultimately mean he would continue to respect them if they did?

[“Your ancestor made a promise in exchange for freedom, and now its end approaches. The time will come for the wheel that stopped to turn again.”]

[“Someday, another promise must be made. Who can take Vermouth’s place, make that promise, and stop the wheel?”]

“Son of a bitch,” Eugene muttered under his breath.

Even those words were utterly ambiguous, so it was only natural, perhaps, for the kings to tread cautiously. After three hundred years of peace, what king would sincerely wish for war and want to prepare for it? At the very least, they surely hoped no war would break out during their own reigns.

If the Knight March fizzled out like this, some things would change.

First, the Demon-Subjugating Alliance, which was doing little more than tickling Helmuth’s borders, would pull back a large portion of its troops. They would decide that this was how to show “awe” toward the Demon King and avoid war. Waiting until after the Knight March rather than doing so immediately would allow the Alliance to preserve its pride. No, the Knight March itself was ultimately being held to preserve the pride of the continent’s nations.

‘A good hard beating would knock some sense into them.’

Eugene abruptly stood up in the bath. Perhaps it was the hot spring water, but he felt as though he was getting hotheaded all too quickly. In the first place, it was Nahama’s Sultan who had waited until now to object to the training.

Nahama had invaded Turas for centuries. There were suspicions that Helmuth was turning a blind eye to their invasions, and that the Demon King of Incarceration might even have encouraged them.

Eugene had hated Nahama three hundred years ago, too. That nation’s damned assassins had been fuckers who prioritized their own interests, even stabbing their allies in the back on the battlefield.

‘Naturally, the Sultan commanding those fuckers is a fucker, too. Maybe the bastard’s whining on the Demon King of Incarceration’s orders.’

... That Demon King of Incarceration? What could he possibly be afraid of? His rational mind raised the question, but Eugene ignored it. In truth, how the Knight March ended was none of his concern. Even if the kings hunkered down and hid their assets, Eugene knew exactly what he had to do.

More strength on his side would certainly help. But having experienced the war three hundred years ago, Eugene knew that sheer numbers were of little use in a battle against a Demon King.

It was because of the damned necromancers. Larger battles naturally produced more corpses, and the necromancers turned every last one into a soldier in the Demon Kings’ armies.

‘I’m not keen on a large-scale war, either. If I were strong enough, I’d storm the Demon King’s castle alone and kill Incarceration.’

[That is arrogant, Hamel.]

‘You bastard. How are you talking to me when I don’t even have Wynnyd?’

[Why act surprised now...? Wynnyd is merely a catalyst. Your contract is with me, Tempest.]

Eugene knew that. He was simply startled because Tempest, who rarely spoke to him unless he was holding Wynnyd, had suddenly addressed him at a time like this.

[Hamel. You truly dream of a northern expedition, and you have come close to realizing it. How could I, who long for it so ardently, remain silent?]

‘That damned northern expedition....’

[You and I share the same regret. Three hundred years ago, we failed to conquer the northern demon lands. By a miracle, we have been given another chance. This time, we must see the northern expedition through.]

‘Yeah.’

[But our strength alone will not suffice, Hamel. Miraculously, Anise has come to dwell within the saint and lend you her strength, but it is still not enough. It was the same three hundred years ago. Vermouth and your small band were the ones who beheaded the Demon Kings, but you could face them because the continent’s forces were holding their armies at bay on every front.]

Eugene did not deny that. Vermouth and his companions had indeed done more than the continent’s armies in battles against high-ranking demons and Demon Kings, but those armies had also played vital roles in the many battles fought throughout Helmuth.

[You need an army to accomplish the northern expedition, Hamel. So allow me to make a suggestion.]

‘What? You want me to become Lionheart’s family head? Why would I need to? Pride in being Vermouth’s descendants is bred into this family’s bones. If it comes to that, the entire family will rise up and prepare for war—’

[I am not talking about Lionheart. Hamel, you should become the emperor of Kiel.]

“Pfft!”

Eugene, who had left the bath and was drinking cold water, was so startled by the sudden suggestion that he spat it out.

‘What the hell are you talking about?’

[It is hardly impossible. Even that Moron became a king. Why should you be unable to become one, Hamel?]

‘No... That’s....’

[If becoming Kiel’s emperor is impossible, what about becoming the Holy Emperor of Yuras? I do not believe it impossible, should you seek the position. Indeed, it would be easier than becoming Kiel’s emperor. Eugene, you have the Holy Sword. And you have the wholehearted support of both Anise from three hundred years ago and the present saint, Kristina Rogeris.]

‘...’

[Imagine yourself holding the radiant Holy Sword, with the saint following behind you, her eight wings spread. If you wished to become Holy Emperor, who in that nation of fanatics would question your legitimacy?]

That... did seem plausible. For a moment, Eugene imagined himself as Pope. Dressed in pure white clerical robes, a golden crown on his head, praying with the benevolent smile of a holy man....

“Urgh.”

He simply could not picture it. He could probably manage it if he tried, but if he became Pope, he felt he would end up sending countless subjects of Yuras straight to hell....

‘I won’t. I can’t.’

[Why not?!]

‘I could if I tried... but I... I don’t want to.’

[You do not desire the power of a king?]

‘No. Don’t need it.’

Ignoring Tempest’s voice, Eugene dressed.

He looked back to find Gargis still in the bath, pouring hot spring water over his arm muscles. Shaking his head at the bizarre, incomprehensible behavior, Eugene left the baths.

Kristina and Mer did not seem to have come out yet. He considered going upstairs to rest in his room, but the heat in his head had yet to subside. In the end, he put on his cloak and left the mansion.

Snow was still falling. It was not particularly good weather for a stroll, but it was perfect for cooling down after the hot spring. Eugene began walking without a destination.

The streets were full of people—no, knights. They did not wear armor even within the fortress, but their uniforms varied. Before he had gone far, Eugene realized this “district” had been assigned to Kiel. Perhaps eager to flaunt the empire’s grandeur, the emperor had brought elite knights from no fewer than three orders. Alchester’s White Dragon Knights were unquestionably the finest, but the Black Eagle Knights and Silver Sword Knights were not far behind.

Knights with black wings emblazoned on their chests—the Black Eagle Knights—watched Eugene with curiosity and wariness, but did not approach to speak.

Eugene had no reason to approach them, either. Their stares irritated him, but he simply walked past. A little farther along, he saw people whose attire was nothing like a knight’s.

‘Mercenaries.’

He had heard that several mercenary companies with strength comparable to knightly orders had come to Lehein. Given their location, these seemed to operate in Kiel. He wondered whether they might pick a fight without knowing their place, but nothing of the sort happened. Naturally. Being a mercenary did not mean being an ignorant brute. In some respects, large mercenary companies followed even stricter discipline than knightly orders.

Eugene walked halfway around the castle.

‘This side is....’

It was easy to work out. Just as the empire’s emperor occupied the castle’s upper reaches, his subjects had been assigned a district close to the castle. Opposite Kiel lay Yuras’s district. Feeling someone watching him, Eugene turned his head.

There was fear in those gazes, not quite concealed. He knew why. The people watching him from the alley were Maleficarum’s inquisitors, clad in red cloaks. Eugene did not recognize their faces, but the way they stared at him with “those” eyes told him who they were.

‘Survivors from the Spring of Light?’

He had killed quite a few that day, but not all of them. The lucky ones would have survived their wounds. The even luckier ones would never have encountered him.

“What are you looking at, asshole?”

Plenty of people had stared at him on his way here, but Eugene had never spoken first. This time, however, he did. When he glared and snapped at them, the inquisitors watching him flinched and retreated deeper into the alley.

“The fuck are you staring at?”

Grumbling, Eugene turned away. He had taken a few steps... and was tilting his head at a peculiar presence behind him when he heard it.

CRASH!

Eugene immediately looked back at the sound. One of the inquisitors who had been staring at him moments before lay sprawled on the ground, his entire face caved in.

“What the hell?”

Eugene peered into the alley the inquisitor had come flying out of.

An unexpected face was there.

The Spring of Light.

Hemoria, whose arms and legs he had severed there, was gripping an inquisitor’s throat with an arm she had acquired somewhere.