59. Politician, Diplomat, Knight
*
“The city of steel. The shield of civilization. Ah… Even after so many years, the scenery of this city remains the same.”
The capital of the Dane Kingdom, Altberth. Or the Hill of Berth. Literally, it was a city perched atop a vast hill.
In the Dane Kingdom, where most of the land was mountainous, the wide plains of the Altberth region were like a treasure to the royal family.
-Swoosh…
Every time the wind blew, the barley fields rippled like a carpet, scattering. The dense forests and deep mountains that had been visible before seemed like a dream, and under the spring sunlight, Altberth shone brilliantly.
Sturdy, gray city walls lined the outskirts of the city, and the deep moat was filled with blue river water, winding beyond the plains.
“It’s… so beautiful.”
Kirhas muttered in awe from atop her horse. Having traveled through deserts and wastelands, the only major cities of civilization she had seen were the slave markets and the City of the Awakened Dragon.
As they leisurely moved along the well-maintained road, Prince Helga proudly shrugged his shoulders.
“The cities of the Phaeirn Royal Family are flashy but lack substance. The cities of our royal family are simple and built on practicality.”
-Practicality, huh? You mean poverty?
Faijashi snickered at Prince Helga’s words.
The Dane Kingdom was mostly mountainous, and aside from iron and some silver mines, it lacked usable mineral resources. Moreover, maritime trade was extremely limited until the recovery of the City of the Awakened Dragon.
In such a situation, the resources that sustained the nation were two things: a powerful land force and brutal tax rates.
Abel remained silent, lost in memories. Kirhas was in awe, Helga was proud, and while Abel was reminiscing, Fernandez walked without saying a word.
He looked at the approaching city walls and recalled the day he first met Prince Helga.
*
“Now, Sir Fernandez. Let’s hear it.”
-Clunk.
Helga laughed cheerfully as he sat down in a chair. His brilliant platinum hair shone like a chandelier under the lamplight, illuminating the surroundings.
He didn’t mind the old, dusty chair of the inn and grabbed a beer mug on the table. He looked more like a young, lively knight than a prince.
“Tell me, what is the greatest threat our nation faces, greater than the Fifty-Year War?”
Helga’s eyes shone like a lion’s. His emerald eyes sparkled as if looking at prey. Fernandez knew people with such eyes. The so-called heroes.
Those who overcome countless obstacles, face adversity without hesitation, and throw themselves into hardship to ultimately seize glory.
Those who ignite people’s hearts with courage like a wildfire and stand as beacons of hope in the darkness.
‘Why?’
In his past life, the young Knight King who led the Dane Kingdom. The father of the Hero King Vicente… Why didn’t such a man succeed to the throne in his past life? The lineage of the Dane Kingdom went directly from Helga III to Vicente II.
-King Helga lived unusually long.
‘Did he live long?’
Helga III, who reigned as if he were immortal. Did he really ‘live’ long? The information about the Necropolis being involved tangled in Fernandez’s mind, and he found a small clue. It was still just a hypothesis, but…
-That assumption is probably correct.
‘If King Helga was a puppet of the Necropolis, and this prince is sacrificed in the process of uncovering the Church of the Underground Burial… That would make a pretty picture, wouldn’t it?’
-Let’s give it a try.
As Fernandez silently stared at the prince’s face, Baimeer frowned.
“Has this guy forgotten how to speak?”
“Ah, it’s fine, Sir Baimeer. Meeting a prince isn’t an everyday occurrence.”
Was he nervous about meeting royalty? Any young knight would be, but… Disappointment settled in Prince Helga’s eyes. Then, Fernandez broke the silence and spoke.
“I was at the Vaitas Church.”
“Right. I heard later that you were taken there for heresy trials. What did you do during that time?”
“I proved my purity and served as a cathedral knight.”
-Thud.
Fernandez pulled out a certificate from the Vaitas Church and placed it on the table. Baimeer and Helga didn’t bother to open it. A document placed like that couldn’t be fake. He didn’t seem like the type to use such clumsy tricks.
“The elves who dominated the northeastern seas have started their return, and Franzrit of Serpent’s Isle has fallen silent. Prince, what do you think is the most pressing issue the kingdom faces now?”
“The securing of the City of the Awakened Dragon and the tariff clauses of the eastern triangular trade?”
“The Phaeirn Royal Family’s declaration of war.”
Fernandez knew that the northern barbarians would soon launch an offensive. Within the next ten years, for sure. But that was a memory from his past life, and he had no way to prove it.
In such a situation, the only way to convince realists was through information from an authoritative institution they hadn’t encountered before.
“The Vaitas Church predicted that the Phaeirn Royal Family would take three months from the outbreak of the Walker incident to fully resolve it. To suppress internal discontent and prove the solidity of royal authority, an aggressive diplomatic strategy will be necessary. The Vaitas Church anticipates a declaration of war from the Phaeirn Royal Family.”
Prince Helga’s expression changed. He was clearly conflicted. For royalty, war was an opportunity.
The military strength of Phaeirn and Dane was comparable if limited to land. Considering the Phaeirn Kingdom’s situation, which hadn’t had enough time to recover its naval forces due to the Walker incident…
But Baimeer was a seasoned knight. He cautiously tapped the table to draw attention.
“Isn’t that missing the point? Even if we and Phaeirn go to war, it would only be a local conflict. How could that be bigger than the Fifty-Year War?”
“If the Eastern Kingdom Alliance collapses, the Fifty-Year War will end with the Empire’s defeat. Right now, the Fifty-Year War is nothing more than a proxy war against the Sultanate and the Western Tribal Alliance. Once the Empire’s barrier is gone, do you think they’ll be satisfied with just that?”
“That’s speculation. Who could easily manage a grand expedition through the wastelands? No matter how much of a warmonger Al’Hashir of Kirzat is, projecting military power all the way to the distant east isn’t easy.”
Baimeer’s eyes sharpened. The Round Table Council wasn’t just a gathering of knights. Each member was a seasoned politician, diplomat, and lord. Convincing them was an extremely difficult task.
Fernandez slowly placed his hands on the table…
He clasped his hands together.
“After the elves of Infermur vanished, do you think it’s a coincidence that Franzrit has been silent?”
“Huh?”
Convincing them is no easy task. If you piece together the information they know… But Fernandez, at least in the realms of intelligence and deception, had reached the level of a master.
“Why do you think Franzrit’s warships haven’t been spotted since that day? Even though there’s no force to counter them at sea, why aren’t they raiding the coast?”
“…Don’t drag this out.”
Baimeer deliberately frowned. But his eyes were trembling. For a moment, he felt intimidated by the gloomy gaze of this young man. It was the look of a seasoned politician, easily over eighty years old.
“In the Fifty-Year War, the Empire was defeated, and its influence in the northern continent waned.”
Fernandez spoke like a prophet.
“With Franzrit freed from the Elven King’s restraint, they will break away from the northeast and seize complete maritime dominance over the entire northern coastline.”
“They lack the forces to invade inland. What can those half-breeds do inland?”
Baimeer declared, as if shaking off fear. The inn’s oil lamp flickered, casting shadows on the table. To his eyes, it looked like a map of the continent being swallowed by shadows.
“If the Eastern Kingdom Alliance collapses in war and the eastern continent is engulfed in chaos, Franzrit can gather forces to project inland. There are those who hate the civilized cities of the continent more than anyone else. Those who align with Franzrit’s intentions.”
“…The northern barbarians…!”
Helga let out a suppressed groan. He looked at Fernandez with eyes filled with shock. The young man before him was no longer a rookie knight.
“If they use the bats’ warships as transport, yes. It’s possible. But, but isn’t everything you’re saying just assumptions?”
Baimeer now spoke in an almost desperate tone, hoping Fernandez’s words were mere delusions. Fernandez now felt that these two were fully convinced.
Just missing the final nail.
“That is the judgment of the Vaitas Church.”
“Then why doesn’t the Church act directly?”
“If the reason I entered this country under a pseudonym is that, do you need another explanation for why they don’t act directly?”
The Church’s direct intervention in the politics of civilized society was an implicit taboo.
While they could exert some level of coordination and advisory influence, in this era when the Temple of the Gods was sealed, the adversarial relationship with the ruling royal families was burdensome even for the Church.
Thus, their minimal intervention in civilized society was carried out through anonymous agents like this.
Unlike Prince Helga, who hadn’t yet caught on, Baimeer looked at Fernandez with a subtle expression.
‘An envoy from the Vaitas Church.’
If he was an envoy sent to prevent war between the two kingdoms, they wouldn’t have sent just anyone.
They would have sent someone of noble birth from the Dane Kingdom, with exceptional personal combat skills and considerable political acumen.
Someone like this young man. Baimeer looked at Fernandez with the eyes of a seasoned foreign politician, no longer seeing him as the son of a deceased friend.
Prince Helga took a sip of his cold beer and cautiously spoke.
“But the biggest obstacle isn’t the Phaeirn Royal Family’s desire for peace, Sir Fernandez.”
“It must be the will of His Majesty Helga III.”
“Yes. And Father probably…”
“He desires war.”
Fernandez spoke as if he had grasped the entire situation.
“And isn’t the reason Your Highness is out here tonight also because of His Majesty?”
“…How much does the Vaitas Church know?”
“Enough to know that His Majesty’s judgment isn’t clouded merely by age.”
Cold sweat ran down Helga and Baimeer’s spines. If these words leaked out, it could be considered evidence of treason.
But what they feared wasn’t that.
“And according to my personal investigation, the Church of the Underground Burial has extended its dark hand to His Majesty.”
“Damn it. Baimeer!”
“Yes, Your Highness!”
-Swish!
Baimeer quickly drew his sword and rushed out the door. If anyone had overheard this conversation, all their preparations would be in vain!
Helga felt the young man sitting quietly before him had somehow grown larger. He was being overwhelmed by this young man.
A naive young knight meeting royalty? No, not at all.
This young man… No, this knight. He was merely testing him, wanting to see the extent of his capabilities.
Helga, hiding his goosebumps, looked at Fernandez.
“Fortunately, I can assist Your Highness.”
Fernandez whispered like a demon.
*
Baimeer watched Fernandez, who was silently driving the horse. He would have been happy to see his deceased friend’s son grown up, but the young man had become someone far beyond his expectations.
‘A simple, talented young knight would have been enough. Lucas. Damn it. His son’s luck is too much.’
How many of his peers could match his insight and combat skills? Baimeer shook his head, recalling the list of royal knights.
Among the noble youths, the most outstanding was Prince Helga. Even the prince was only superior in combat skills compared to this young man.
‘Is this the punishment for not paying attention to your son, Lucas?’
Lucas’s younger brother, Baron Daniel Sernerd, was a political and persuasive noble. After Lucas’s death, he quickly took control of the Sernerd Territory and gained recognition.
Though officially a regent, there were no nobles who particularly opposed his succession.
Baimeer was also too busy to care about the Sernerd backwater. Becoming Fernandez’s guardian after he came of age was the best he could do.
But in reality, Fernandez killed his uncle and cousin on the day he came of age and was taken to the Inquisition Office.
What could he have done in such a situation? Baimeer quietly closed his eyes.
The gates of Altberth were approaching. Someone was riding towards them. Brilliant platinum hair fluttered in the wind.
“Your Highness, the princess is coming.”
“Ah… Damn it. Pretend you don’t see me.”
Helga frowned deeply and pulled his hood down. The woman who had approached smiled softly and stopped her horse.
“Brother, were you out for a stroll?”
“…Moria. How did you know I was coming?”
At Helga’s sharp tone, Moria smiled and stroked the horse’s neck.
“I was always on the watchtower, worried about you.”
“Surveillance was enough within the castle. Moria. I’m tired. Maybe next time…”
“Don’t be like that, introduce me to your companions.”
Moria’s emerald eyes rested on Fernandez’s face. Fernandez smiled as he met her gaze.
‘With this, the puzzle is complete.’
-Things are getting more and more interesting.
Faijashi chuckled. The magical vision conveyed information to Fernandez. About the magic enveloping this city—
‘Who would have thought he’d capture the princess.’
Even the traces of dark magic entangled in Moria’s eyes.
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