Marcus Debothio Instrumentum was referred to as the most dangerous high noble in the West since the age of fourteen.
He lost his parents at a young age and found himself surrounded by wolf-like vassals, greedy retainers, and wolfish great lords, all of whom believed he would be assassinated before reaching adulthood.
That was until he melted silverware in his corner and recreated weapons long lost to history, such as the Magic Gun, with incantation circuits drawn on them using curtain rod pipes.
“Your Excellency. We are ready.”
“Alright. Let’s go. I plan to stay on the airship for a while.”
Marcus left the hotel room with a cheerful smile.
His neatly tied black hair, soft dark brown eyes, and glasses enhancing his intelligent appearance, along with a tall, well-fitted pinstriped suit.
If he wasn’t carrying an estoc at his waist, everyone would have thought he was merely a bourgeois rather than a regional high noble.
Creeeek, creeeek, creeeek.
Large knights followed behind him, making steam sounds between their capes.
Their armor was significantly thicker and more complex in mechanical structure compared to the royal knights’ armor.
Marcus used his brilliant talent in developing technology to reduce the gaps created by individual talents and efforts.
The essence of magic engineering, the Magic Armor, allowed sword users to stand against Sword Experts, and the sniping technique derived from the Ivory Tower’s pair of glasses granted even freshly conscripted peasants shooting skills on par with those trained for decades as ballista marksmen.
Clink, clink, clink, clink, clink.
Now, alongside the bulky mechanical knights, there were also agile soldiers clad in brown armor.
Inside their armor were muscle-structure-mimicking mechanical enhancements that doubled the wearers’ strength, simply engraved with incantation circuits akin to everyday tools.
“Your Excellency. Uh, where are you going? If you did not find our hotel to your liking, please let us know…”
“No, it’s fine. It was very comfortable. However, my body seems to refuse to be where there is no steam, magic circuits, or electricity.”
Marcus exited through the castle gates in a carriage powered by mana and steam.
His soldiers, magicians, and apprentices were already waiting in front of the airship.
He brought the carriage inside the airship and settled into the cockpit.
His aides, servants, and apprentices gathered to report.
“…The Ivory Tower is silent….”
“…Seberik is waiting at the hotel without having dinner….”
“…!”
“We cannot rely on individual talents forever. Humans naturally have low mana sensitivity, and the blood of heterogeneous races dilutes over time. Only the Ivory Tower thinks of growing strong solely through knowledge, but they are too arrogant to think beyond that.”
He listened to most of the reports with one ear and let them out through the other.
He had already killed anyone who couldn’t manage even that much, and there was no need for him to meddle in tasks they were already handling well.
However, there was one report that caught his attention, causing his eyes to sparkle.
“A completed Magic Gun has made its way outside the Ivory Tower?”
“Yes, Your Excellency. It is used by the maid Rudi who serves Valenciaunos.”
Marcus’s lips curled up bitterly.
“A maid? You mean that treasure is in the hands of a maid?”
“She is no ordinary maid. She is a first-class assassin who has reached the level of a Sword User, also a marksman with the Magic Gun, and has long served Valenciaunos as the administrator of his palace.”
“Hmm.”
Marcus brightened with a smile.
‘She has value both as a hostage and as a messenger.’
“It’s unlikely to sway her… but is it possible to kidnap her or sneak the Magic Gun away?”
The aide shook his head.
“She hardly leaves Valenciaunos’ side. While we could easily overpower her, secretly kidnapping her is impossible.”
“What about just sneaking the Magic Gun away?”
“That too is impossible. She carries both the revolver-type Magic Gun ‘Agathe’ and the double-barreled shotgun-type Magic Gun ‘Caspa’ at all times.”
Marcus blinked for a moment, then added saline and a few drops of a recovery potion to his artificial eye before asking again.
“It seemed she was only using one ‘Agathe’ while fighting Cariosa… Do we know where the other one is?”
The answer came immediately.
“The Duke Sorelazie is researching it in his private laboratory.”
The promptness of the response didn’t sit well with Marcus.
He frowned, recalling that massive tree.
“The Imperial Magic Guild… There’s no way to get in there. Understood. For now, attach some people around her. We need to be able to kidnap both the Magic Gun and the hostage when the time comes.”
“Yes, Your Excellency.”
“Oh, and tell that friend to stay for a moment.”
One of the servants flinched, and Marcus’s artificial eye didn’t miss the slight twitch.
The apprentice and aide surrounded the servant, who trembled as he stepped forward.
“Why… are you doing this, Your Excellency?”
“You should know better than anyone.”
Marcus read the warning messages emerging in his eye one by one.
[Hostility]
[Confusion]
[Despair]
His artificial eye contained various enchantments, including one that read emotions and thoughts based on facial muscle movements and hormone secretions.
‘Am I caught? Am I in danger of dying? Will I end up dissected in the laboratory? …Does he realize that?’
“How much are they offering at the imperial court?”
Marcus sneered as he drew his estoc.
The servant tried to flee, but before he could take a step, he felt something hot piercing through his belly.
While Marcus might not have been known as a great lord skilled in swordsmanship, he was more than capable of defending himself.
“Ah!”
“I doubt you were supposed to gather information for me. You probably just wondered whether I would politically utilize the recent explosion incidents… Am I right?”
“Y-your Excellency! Please.”
The servant pleaded, tears streaming down his face, and Marcus smiled sinisterly while twisting the estoc.
“Do you know what will happen if I stab you just a little more and your insides end up turning into a mess?”
Still, a few calculations ran through his mind.
‘So, it seems they’re feeling the heat. After all, they probably want to gracefully finish their loyalty oath. There aren’t any fools among high nobles who don’t know that the Infiltrators are behind this. They are only debating whether to bite back at the imperial court with that.’
For the moment, Marcus refrained from stabbing him and turned to one of his aides.
“Has there been no reply from Marquis Cariosa?”
“Yes, Your Excellency. He has given no response whatsoever.”
“He has already eaten his fill, it seems… Yet I don’t quite understand. Why is he avoiding this? It’s a tempting piece of meat even after being full. Is everyone just waiting to see who will wave the flag?”
In that case.
“Arrange meetings with all the council members who want to meet me.”
It was Marcus who would bite first.
“And send a letter to the cathedral. Frame it around how the glorious Valenciaunos is hiding the presence of Infiltrators. While we are allies now… an alliance means we both devour each other. Hehe.”
Having given those orders, he turned his gaze back to the servant he had stabbed.
He was gripping the estoc’s blade with both hands, trying to pull it out of his body.
“Now, now, you must understand what I intend to do with this information, right?”
“Ugh, eh! Please! I’m sorry! Spare me!”
“But it seems you won’t be able to report back after this, will you? You won’t get any money either.”
Marcus tightened his wrist, plunging the blade deeper into the servant’s insides.
The servant screamed and fell to his knees on the floor.
“Kah!”
“Take him away. I mentioned needing an injured person for research on healing potions, didn’t I?”
Apprentices bowed their heads and tied the servant to a wheeled bed to take him to the laboratory.
“Don’t! No!”
Hearing that scream, Marcus hummed a tune and turned his head toward the magic circle and piston structure he had been researching.
“Now, everyone, go attend to your own work. Is there no one with any tasks? Should I give you some?”
“No, there isn’t!”
The aides hurriedly fled, and Marcus chuckled as he began etching incantation circuits onto a copper plate.
*
“I salute Her Majesty, the 47th Solletarass, the unfaltering sun of the empire and the lady of your knight order, the mistress of the unfading sea and the unfreezing ocean, the youngest Sword Master and the grand mage closest to the truth, who has made ruthless decisions for the empire.”
A lengthy greeting often not delivered by Valenciaunos flowed effortlessly from the lips of the early twenties girl.
“I am Signain Elzenus Proihaite, the Marquis of the Revered Proihaite. I sincerely thank you for inviting me to this beautiful garden today.”
She neatly tied her luxurious light brown hair like a hazelnut tree, her cold sky-blue eyes shining bright, her shrewd smile graced by elaborate headpieces, earrings, and a fan, a high noble indeed.
While she bore a stubborn expression akin to her father, dressed in a splendid gown and makeup, many of those qualities were concealed behind the refined smiles forged in the social circles of the elite.
Few knew that she had visited Valenciaunos’ chamber late on a night in early January, armed with a dagger.
Among the handful of those who knew, Jeilliris chuckled, listening to her lengthy greeting.
“It seems you liked the gift left by the Duke.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. I liked it very, very much. It is something money and power cannot buy.”
Valenciaunos had left the corpse of the dragon Jeilliris had slain in a cave, its bones, blood, scales, and skin entirely belonging to Signain.
“It does not concern you that the young are plotting intrigues behind the scenes? Speak of it whenever you wish. Protecting the rightful rights of vassals is the emperor’s duty.”
“Your Majesty’s words reassure me. Fortunately, my retainers are watching over me inside, while my brother and sister guard me outside, so all is peaceful for now.”
Upon her ascendancy, Signain immediately appointed her brother as the governor of a trading city and her sister as the commander of a great fortress.
On the surface, they appeared to be demotions or even exile, but for her war-monger sister and money-loving brother, it was a gift.
Jeilliris, smiling languidly, asked.
“Is there anything you wish from me? Your father most likely… died upon my orders.”
The overly direct inquiry made the court officials present at the gathering glare and cough awkwardly.
Had Valenciaunos been there, he would have burst into tears.
However, Signain shook her head.
“Your Majesty, I still praise your grace for not exterminating my family.”
“Is that sentimentally… possible?”
She faced Jeilliris’s cruel question head-on, displaying the dignity expected from a high noble who ruled millions of peasants.
“That’s right, Your Majesty. Mastering cherished emotions and filling the territory and family with joy is a fundamental quality of a noble.”
With that answer, Jeilliris smiled contentedly.
“To master emotions, huh? That’s an interesting tale. Can you elaborate on that?”
Leaning forward slightly and lighting up her eyes, she appeared, at a glance, like an innocent and curious girl.
Signain kept her composure as she continued speaking.
“Emotions are precious resources that prioritize our actions. When we revel in drinking and singing, we enjoy ourselves, so we engage in drinking and songs for the sake of joy. However, this conflicts with the interests of our territory and family, thus nobles must be able to recall the long-term sorrows and pains from indulging in revelry.”
Her counterpart was not an 18-year-old girl but the emperor who had slain dragons.
Yet, Signain was also a capable individual, having already established herself as a worthy high noble in her twenties.
“Therefore, we must find joy in activities that benefit our territory and family, and feel sorrow for activities that oppose them…”
That evening’s banquet continued well into supper.
Servants brought the food back to warm up several times, and the emperor personally poured wine into the newly appointed marquise’s cup.
The court officials murmured about the scene they observed.
“Is this a good thing?”
“It seems so.”
“Who was it for tomorrow evening?”
“Grace… the new marquise of Gremoryus.”
