According to the reports from the deities, Valencianus was approaching with a mere five companions riding three wyverns.
There was one knight from the Silver Knight Order, one thunder mage who was his half-sister, one administrative officer, one judge, and one man wrapped in an identity-obscuring black robe.
Benechion ordered that no hostile action be taken, and his loyal vassals entertained Valencianus and his entourage according to the customs of hospitality and imperial law.
The wyverns were served an old ram, while Valencianus and his party were offered a bed, lamb, water, bread, and salt.
Valencianus, that cursed Jeilliris’s brother, received the hospitality with a polite demeanor contrary to rumors.
“It is said that he retired early to rest and departed at dawn, and he didn’t shout for alcohol or accept the virgin and boy he brought along.”
“Do you know what that young lad aims to meet with me for?”
The messenger only swallowed hard, relaying the words of the vassals as an indescribable fury seeped from Benechion’s voice.
“I regret to inform you, but even his group was reportedly in turmoil.”
The Duke nodded, embodying a dignified composure, with untamed anger brewing on his aged face.
He had spilled much blood over the past seventy years, but this was the first time passion surged within him like this.
“If I kill that brother of mine, perhaps the devil will come for a visit. I don’t care.”
He lost everything in a single day: a fifty-year dream, a sister, a younger sibling, and nephews who were like his own children.
“I will make him feel the same pain. You, Emperor, must be a creature capable of feeling pain as well.”
Amidst this, his insight warned him of impending danger.
According to the intelligence network he had woven over the past fifty years, Valencianus was no fool, even if he was a bandit.
Even if he appeared to be thoughtlessly rampaging on the surface, anyone who survived under Jeilliris would undoubtedly possess some form of competence.
“I’ll see if the hidden blade you possess is sharp enough to bring just five of you into the heart of my territory. Still.”
“Steward.”
“Yes, Your Excellency.”
“Send my grandsons to the hideout near Wyvernfit. Until I command them otherwise, they are not to come out.”
“Yes. Understood.”
The steward faithfully carried out Benechion’s orders, just as he had for the past several decades.
That location was deliberately designed like a prison, where all heirs would be confined whenever the contemporary Gremoryus acted against the royal court.
Even if the current Gremoryus were to meet death, it was to ensure that the heirs could claim, “We resisted but were captured,” thus preventing destruction of their clan.
“Valencianus has arrived at Wyvernfit.”
“Very well. Let us prepare to receive him.”
Benechion moved to the Audience Chamber.
The Gremoryus family’s Audience Chamber was as magnificent as that of the imperial court.
The corridor, excavated deep in the mountains, reached a height of 12 meters, a width of 15 meters, and a length of 500 meters.
His throne was made from five metals: gold, silver, copper, iron, and lead, and the 200 immense chandeliers were adorned solely with diamonds and white opals, lacking a single crystal.
“It won’t take long.”
As the elderly man with a youthful appearance sat on the throne, the forces of the Gremoryus family began to move within the corridors on either side.
“Commander Jerphas, at your command.”
Eighty knights clad in golden full plate armor and twice that number of trainees clad in golden and silver armor responded.
Here, ‘knights’ were those who had reached the rank of Sword Expert and could wield the ‘Mana Blade’ like Tenitia, while trainees were those practicing to become such knights.
That alone constituted a shocking force; however, an additional 500 elite soldiers clad in black iron plate armor followed.
“General Paorik, present!”
All of them, like the knights’ trainees, were comprised of ‘mana users’ capable of handling mana within their bodies.
“Grandwarlock Solberius graces the court.”
Sixty combat magicians were also clad in chain or breastplate armor meticulously pieced together from iron plates.
They carried several mana-storing crystals to prepare against mana depletion and had refined their swordsmanship to the point where they could battle two or three common soldiers.
“W-we have arrived.”
The summoners were few in number, yet each exuded confidence, their multifaceted eyes shining brightly.
The strange whispers carried by the wind came from their summoned spirits, who sensed their malice and tension and bore mock sorrow for the fate they would soon tear apart.
“Ahem.”
Lastly, gathered beside Grace were holy knights, purification soldiers, senior priests, and bishops.
“Your Excellency. We are not your servants; we are servants of the light.”
The elderly high priest displayed a hint of discomfort when Benechion called them like hunting dogs, but the seventy-year-old nobleman silenced the bishop with a gaze sharper than the iron crown above him.
“If Valencianus suffers a serious injury, he must be preserved.”
“…Yes, Your Excellency.”
He didn’t want to kill Valencianus; he wanted to torment Jeilliris.
Thus, the Bandit Duke must not die.
Moreover, even if Valencianus was to break through and stand before him, it would be hard for him to swing his sword against the surrounded holy knights.
“He has come.”
A servant hurriedly whispered.
At the end of the corridor, the doors opened, and only six entered.
Benechion, his eyes sparkling like those of a youth, scanned the faces of the six.
‘He’s here.’
The administrative officer and the judge looked pale, nearly fainting, and the man in the black robe seemed rather deflated, shoulders drooping in submission.
Benechion was uninterested in their fates, and thus the one who first caught the elderly nobleman’s gaze was Tenitia.
She wore full plate armor crafted from the finest steel, inscribed with the best incantation circuits, as prepared by the greatest mages under the will of the continent’s foremost power.
The red ribbon draped behind her helm flapped according to her movements, and her red cape, seemingly imbued with fire resistance magic, flowed gracefully like the setting sun.
As she locked eyes with the eighty knights, it felt reminiscent of a time when he would have gladly exchanged gold for just one such knight.
“Duke Sorelazie.”
Next, the nobleman’s gaze fell upon a mage with long blue hair draped in blue robes.
She was a young legend who became a shadow mage in her twenties and awakened the royal blood of the imperial court, reputed for speaking incantations.
While Tenitia was engaged in a contest of wills with her knights, Sorelazie did not meet the gaze of anyone, wearing a haughty expression and striking visage.
“Hmph.”
“Y-you…!”
The disdainful attitude that suggested no one could compete with her angered Solberius, the Gremoryus family’s top mage.
Again, Benechion silenced Solberius with a mere glance and focused on Valencianus, who led the six.
‘Just like my sister.’
His platinum hair was casually swept back, and his eyes shone with the power of gold, glimmering mischievously.
He was adorned in a white uniform with a red belt and strapped a sword to his waist.
While he and Jeilliris shared similar fair skin, handsome faces, high noses, and red lips, there was a definitive difference in the aura when compared to that accursed yellow demon.
When Benechion saw Jeilliris on the day of the ‘blood coronation’, she was already a swordmaster and grand sorceress. Regardless of the truth behind all the strange rumors about Valencianus, he was neither a swordmaster nor a grand sorceress yet.
However, even amidst his languor, he possessed the same arrogant and cruel essence that drew the eyes of those around him.
With immense satisfaction, Benechion commanded his knights.
“Capture him and make him kneel before me. First, I will pluck out his right eye.”
If he were to rip apart and reattach that Bandit Duke repeatedly, perhaps something akin to heaven might settle down.
Jerphas stomped his heel to the ground to make a sound and began to execute the orders, while knights in golden armor stepped forward one by one.
Valencianus extended his hand towards the judge, whose face was twisted in disbelief.
The judge trembled and handed a scroll to Valencianus, who unfurled it and shouted.
Benechion sought to pay no heed to his words.
Even if this scroll did not contain any document but rather a magical scroll given by the yellow demon, his mages could easily fend off the spells contained within.
“Benechion Kimelion Gremoryus. You are charged with colluding with the Infiltrators and your own corruption; hence, your title as Duke is hereby revoked!”
Thus, as the white-haired duke shouted with a voice filled with ecstasy, the meaning of his words sank in too late.
“What…?”
He leaned forward, as if pulling at the armrests of his throne.
With his voice full of questions, the knights slowed their steps towards Valencianus.
Valencianus proudly extended the scroll before him.
From his bright yellow eyes flickered a madness that could not read the next move.
“This will be verified by the Saint!”
The next moment, the man trailing behind him removed his cloak.
With black hair and black eyes, he was taller than Valencianus, possessing a stern yet deep visage.
While he had the appearance closer to that of a young knight than a saint, the marking shining upon his forehead was surely a sign of holiness.
Benechion rose from his throne made of five metals, intending to shout something.
A terrible sense of defeat enveloped his body.
“Th-this—!”
However, the saint’s brilliant sacred power radiated out faster.
Paaah—!
In an instant, a dazzling light erupted that forced everyone present to shut their eyes tightly.
Valencianus, standing the closest, shielded his eyes with his black cloak, yet tears streamed down his face uncontrollably.
The son of God prayed to his father and unfolded the ‘Veil of Distinction.’
Filled with fury from the week-long torment of wyvern aerobatics, the saint, bursting with righteous indignation, hoped that Valencianus would be revealed as an Infiltrator.
The massive divine power radiated out in waves, stretching 11 kilometers in diameter from the saint, sweeping across the entire Kimelion, the capital known as the treasure city of the Gremoryus family.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
And the presence of Infiltrators operating throughout Kimelion was revealed.
“I knew this would happen.”
I smiled brightly, looking towards Lady Trentia and Duke Sorelazie.
Right before my eyes, one Infiltrator was squished like a lobster that had failed to shed its shell.
Due to the change caused by the armor with the incantation circuit, its swollen flesh and muscles were being crushed within the armor.
“If you brought me as a companion, I hope you’ll give me more notice next time. Even a brat like you knows that my death here would be a loss to the empire, right?”
Sorelazie pouted as she prepared her ‘self field,’ while Lady Trentia drew her sword and surrounded it in a red mana blade.
The saint, drained from flying and depleted of sacred power, collapsed to the ground.
…Truthfully, simply sweeping through this corridor would have been sufficient.
Of course, I had no intention of criticizing the saint by stating that.
The ‘Veil of Distinction’ revealed all anomalous beings, so my eyes were also slit vertically.
“What a pity.”
Matheos commented as he looked at me, devoid of tentacles, flesh, or eyeballs.
I could roughly guess what he was thinking, and I decided to practice rapid descents on the way back.
