Chapter 144 - Toward Coloni (1)

Luxible was a small principality bordering the mysterious jungle of Ronovelli, made up of only a handful of domains. Though called a principality, it was woefully weak compared with the other members of the allied kingdoms.

And that was not all. Most of the money needed to run Luxible came from a single place: Caslot, on the border with the mysterious jungle of Ronovelli. Its tax revenue was considerable, of course, but nowhere near enough to fulfill the grand ambition of Pamilono, Luxible’s seventh king.

Pamilono harbored an ambition even greater than his father, the sixth king: to make his principality great and vast enough to be called a nation like any other.

In “theory,” it was certainly possible. As a member of the allied kingdoms, with wars between domains and nations now forbidden, Luxible could not expand through war. Buying domains, however, was an option. And if he truly needed more territory, he could head south. There lay the lands of nonhuman races, outside the allied kingdoms’ borders.

Unfortunately... in practice, it was little more than an impossible dream. For one thing, buying a domain required an enormous amount of money—enough, perhaps, to empty the treasury and dissolve the principality altogether.

The alternative was to seize territory by waging war on the nonhuman races, but unfortunately, they were not so easily defeated by the forces of a mere principality. That was precisely why the allied kingdoms tolerated their domains, unlike the barbarians who invaded the interior.

Above all, however, the reason the seventh king’s grand ambition could never become more than an ambition was corruption. Yes, corruption. Unfortunately, even Luxible’s handful of small domains were thoroughly rotten.

How rotten? The fact that the grand dukes commanded far more troops than the crown was a telling example.

And so, ever since ascending the throne as a puppet king, Pamilono had pondered how to break out of this utterly hopeless situation. After much agonizing, an opportunity had come to him: a deal with the devil.

No, “devil” was not actually the right word. Those who had approached him were human. Still, he thought of it as “joining hands with the devil” because their offer was so terribly tempting. He stood to lose virtually nothing, either.

If things continued as they were, he would inevitably face the same fate as his father: forced into marriage when the time came, made to produce an heir, and then placed in danger of being poisoned. The very life of a puppet king.

He had joined hands with them even at the risk of being deceived. Thus, he had expected little. It was practically his last desperate struggle.

But today...

THUD, THUD!

Pamilono received the results.

“...”

He lowered his gaze blankly. Before him lay the heads of old men—no, from Pamilono’s perspective, pig bastards whom even chewing to death would not have satisfied him. The heads of Grand Duke Richipton and Grand Duke Boper.

Pamilono looked up. A girl stood there, draped in white leather and holding a spear dripping with blood—

“... Is this real?”

“Why not check? They’re right here in front of you.”

Sircal the Swift swung her spear and tapped the two heads. Pamilono swallowed hard.

“... I don’t think there’s any need to go that far.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. I couldn’t forget the faces of those bastards I’d like to tear apart, even in my dreams.”

“That’s good. Oh, just in case you were wondering, we dealt with every last one of their soldiers too. There’s no need to worry.”

“... Is that true?”

“I have no reason to lie.”

“I... see.”

The girl’s voice was emotionless. Pamilono let out a deep sigh and stared at the heads rolling about.

“Well, I’ve received what I wanted, so I must pay the price. Two things, was it? Tell me what you want.”

His expression grew tense as he spoke.

When the girl before him first made her offer, he had not given much thought to the price. He had not believed she could actually kill the two grand dukes. But now it was reality. And so he steeled himself to pay whatever price she demanded, only for her to say:

“I’d like you to give our tribe a place to live.”

“... You mean you want a domain?”

“It doesn’t need to be anything so grand. About half the land where we dealt with this pig should do.”

“... Agreed.”

The first demand was far less staggering than he had expected. Pamilono was a little bewildered, but only briefly.

“The second condition is the most important.”

“... Speak.”

Her next words made him tense again.

“Make the worship of our god the state religion.”

“... Your god?”

“Yes. Establish the worship of our god as the state religion, and erect statues of him throughout your territory. Those are the two conditions.”

The seventh king answered.

“That will not be difficult.”

“I’m glad.”

Of course, the existence of the Holy Kingdom of Rosario gave him some cause for concern, but had the Holy Kingdom not washed its hands of Luxible long ago? In other words, there would be no problem if he did not make the worship of Shironia the state religion now.

Pamilono nodded, and the girl—no, Sircal the Swift—gestured lightly with her chin. Another girl, Jenira, soon emerged from the darkness and handed him a statue.

“... This is...”

“A statue of the god we serve.”

The statue depicted a man whose face was hidden in shadow. His ink-black coat billowed around him, and he held lightning in one hand.

“... What is this god’s name?” Pamilono asked as he studied the statue.

“He is the one and only god of us Thunder Serpents, and our savior—”

Jenira’s eyes crinkled in a smile, as though she had been waiting for the question.

“Lord Kalanon, the Receiver of Lightning.”

She proclaimed the name. A faint trace of fanaticism shone in her eyes.

####

Penia Kraisinne had been having a wonderful time lately. ... Of course, there were occasional exceptions, but mostly, she had.

She had gone to the marquis’s estate to confess everything, fearing her life might otherwise be threatened, only to receive an unexpectedly marvelous offer. In exchange for helping Marquis Pallatio with his magical research, she would be able to learn magic from Heinkel without having to lie about their relationship. For Penia, it was a delightful arrangement with nothing to lose.

Of course, she would have to keep helping with his research at the estate for who knew how long, but that was no great issue. The point was that she could now learn magic from Heinkel without any trouble. That was very, very, very, very, very, very, very important.

Besides, although what lurked behind the marquis frightened her a little, assisting with his magical research was quite interesting. His magic was of a kind even she had never seen before. Alon’s magic did not belong to the tier system at all, which naturally piqued the magic-obsessed Penia’s curiosity enormously. For a while, she enjoyed the research in her own way—enough that, at some point, she could even sneak a glance into the eyes behind him.

Of course, that period of investigation did not last very long. Unfortunately, only Marquis Pallatio could use the “seals” he had asked her to help study.

Why had Marquis Pallatio, whose magical knowledge surpassed hers, asked her to help with his research? She wondered briefly, then shook the thought away. She had decided not to ask more questions about him than necessary. What mattered to her was Heinkel’s magic, after all. Satisfying her curiosity while helping with his research was enough.

In any case, she had achieved her goal, and life lately had been quite satisfying. ... Yes, until a few days ago, when Marquis Pallatio had left, saying he had some business to attend to.

“Aaaaaaaagh!!!!!!”

“Eek—”

Penia screamed. It was such a chilling shriek that Pelin, timidly leafing through a journal beside her, involuntarily held his breath.

But she stared only at the journal with bloodshot eyes, as though everything around her had gone dark. It detailed the seals Alon had discovered during their research, and how the mana arrangement and molecular structure changed with each seal.

“How the hell—”

Her hands trembled around the thick stack of papers.

“Am I supposed to do all this?!”

She let out another piercing scream, then recalled her conversation with Alon a few days earlier.

[“Deputy Tower Master, I’d like you to take care of this.”]

[“Um... what, exactly?”]

[“Our research so far has shown that mana’s molecular structures change into new forms when combined, hasn’t it?”]

[“Yes, yes, that’s... right?”]

[“Please put together a simple overview while I’m away.”]

[“... Of all this?”]

[“Yes. There isn’t that much, is there?”]

[“No, it’s—”]

[“Do you not want to?”]

That had not been a conversation. It had been like a devil wearing the mask of a kindly professor... yes, casually working a poor pupil to the bone—

Penia squeezed her eyes shut and groaned. Only now did she understand why he had asked her to help.

'Was this what it was all fooor...?!'

The laws governing the molecular structures had already been established to some extent. All that remained was to find the possible ways those structures could fit together. In other words, this was no longer research. It was drudgery. Fucking drudgery.

And so...

“Marquis Pallatio, you son of a—”

She silently swallowed the final “bitch!!!!”

“Haaaaaaargh—”

With a strange, strangled exhalation, she buried her head in the desk.

Penia lay slumped there. Her shoulders shook briefly, as though she had finally lost her mind.

“I’ll do it... somehow.”

Then, with bloodshot eyes, she gritted her teeth and spread her mana.

“I’ll find a way, and I will... I will learn magic from Lady Heinkel...!”

“I’ll do it, I’ll do it, I can do iiiit!!!!”

As his crazed older sister equipped more than five pens like weapons and began writing on the paper, Pelin cautiously curled in on himself.

“...”

####

Meanwhile...

'I wonder how she’s doing.'

Eating a sweet potato, Alon found himself thinking of Penia.

'Well, simply organizing it shouldn’t be all that difficult.'

He had left the deputy tower master to organize the molecular structures.

'Once the first-order arrangements are sorted out, it’ll be quicker to manifest them myself and try linking them together.'

He took a hearty bite of sweet potato, never dreaming that Penia was organizing not only first-order and second-order arrangements, but third-order ones as well.

Just then, Evan brought up a new topic.

“My lord.”

“What is it?”

“I’ve heard some rather strange and intriguing news.”

“Strange and intriguing news?”

“Yes. Apparently, Rine is now the only high councilor.”

“Why?”

“Well, I don’t know why, but apparently everyone who becomes a high councilor meets an unfortunate death. As a result, Rine alone is serving consecutive terms in the position.”

“... That really is strange.”

“Isn’t it? I thought so too.”

A brief silence fell.

“... Surely not?”

Alon’s murmur broke the silence.

Evan considered what he meant for a moment, then quickly laughed.

“Oh, surely not. That would be far too obvious, wouldn’t it?”

“... Yes, it would.”

After passing a week of travel with exchanges like that, they arrived in Lartania, where Alon met Rine.

“You’re here, Godfather?”

“It’s been a while.”

“Come inside first. It’s starting to get hot out.”