Chapter 78

"You're to do exactly as I say. No questions."

"Of course, sir. I already consider you my master."

The deputy's reasons for siding with the viscount's son weren't complicated.

There were simply a lot of crumbs falling off the table.

Naturally, he had no plans to stick around long — the son looked like the type who'd burn himself down on his own. The plan was to pull off one big score and walk away without looking back.

"Heh, heh. Good. That's how it should be."

But the viscount's son knew none of this, and instead congratulated himself on everything going his way.

The deputy watched him and thought to himself,

Stupid bastard.

---

The first place to actually blow up was, predictably, the Roman viscountcy.

It started over something tiny.

"Please, spare him! My son didn't know any better — he didn't mean it!"

"A crime is still a crime."

"Please, my lord! I'll take the punishment myself!"

"And you'll pay for it, naturally. That much is given."

A boy from one family, unable to bear the hunger anymore, had tried to steal from a noble's storehouse.

He hadn't even managed to touch anything before he was caught, but the noble who handled administrative affairs for House Roman set his sights on the family's daughter.

"If you want your son's debt cleared, hand over your daughter."

"…Sorry?"

"Then I'll let him go without another question."

Viscount Roman was running riot, ratcheting up taxes — and the nobles under him had started behaving the same way.

"My daughter's married, sir…?"

"I know. Doesn't matter."

The father swore over and over that there was no way — but the noble cut his throat, abducted the daughter by force, and took her anyway.

In the end, the daughter killed herself, and the son — the one who'd started it all — charged the noble with the intent to kill him and died in the attempt.

A whole family was wiped out in a matter of days.

Things like this were happening constantly in House Roman these days.

"I can't take this anymore."

"That's right. This isn't right!"

"Drag Viscount Roman out!"

That night, the Roman manor was stormed, and the noble who'd been milking the people dry was the first to die.

Roarrrr!

The lights in the castle didn't go out until well into the night.

But Viscount Roman made it worse.

He ordered every last resident who'd taken part in the uprising killed.

It wasn't a battle anymore. It was a massacre.

"Kill them all!"

"Don't leave one of them breathing!"

"Bar the gates!"

A hellscape unfolded across Roman territory.

Even people who hadn't taken any part in the uprising were dragged out and beheaded; the screaming never stopped.

Husbands lost their wives. Wives lost their husbands.

Parents who'd lost their children, children who'd lost their parents.

They wept with eyes blood-red.

The loose, half-formed sense of solidarity hardened into something solid.

"What?"

"They're throwing themselves into it. Like they don't care if they die."

Viscount Roman's mouth dropped open in disbelief.

He'd thought killing a few would put the rest down.

Instead, these people had lost their minds entirely and were going feral.

"They're no match for our knights, of course — but if we keep killing at this rate, sir, we're going to wipe out… every single resident in the territory."

"Every single one?"

"…Yes."

"You're telling me every single one of them joined the uprising?"

"Yes. Even the children — they're charging at us with sharpened spears."

"Hah."

Only then did Viscount Roman start to grasp the situation.

He fidgeted in his seat, unable to keep still.

He'd only ordered the ringleaders rounded up and killed — how on earth had it spiraled into this?

The thing was, Areta had been at peace for a very long time.

Peace they'd enjoyed by burning Lecashe blood.

So they didn't know what an uprising was, or what war was.

They didn't really understand any of it.

Which meant Roman couldn't understand why the people were rising up like this either.

---

It didn't take long for the news to reach the neighboring Lecashe.

"There's been an uprising at the Roman viscountcy, it seems."

"Oh, no. I had a feeling."

"From the sound of it, the situation's pretty serious."

"Is it?"

"Some of the residents managed to escape and have made their way to Lecashe."

With Roman in chaos, residents in other territories must have started feeling the danger too, because more were running.

The way it was developing didn't look ordinary.

"I expect this is going to blow up."

"Will it reach the emperor's ears?"

"Yes."

"I see."

Lyssel was unmoved.

He didn't see it as a problem he was meant to clean up.

All he had to do was guard the Forest of the World Tree. What happened around it had nothing to do with him.

So his voice came out flat.

"What should we do, sir?"

"Leave it alone. Take in any residents who come."

"Understood."

This was what Lyssel was like when Iberin wasn't around.

Iberin was, as usual, still sprawled out in bed sleeping in.

"S-Your Highness."

"Mm."

"Do you not feel for them?"

"Who?"

"The residents in the other territories."

"Of course I feel for them."

"It just seems different from how you were when Lady Iberin was here."

"Even with Iberin here, I'd respond the same way to this particular issue."

"Is that so?"

"Of course."

Lyssel said it, but Pons knew it wasn't true.

That was when Iberin shuffled into the room, rubbing her sleepy eyes.

"You're up?"

Lyssel sprang to his feet and caught her by the shoulders.

"Mm. But your face — you don't look good."

"Ah, something's happened, it seems."

"Oh? What is it?"

"An uprising's broken out."

Iberin paused the hand that had been rubbing her eye and spoke slowly.

"Oh dear."

"A lot of people are dying, by all accounts."

"What do we do?"

"Should we help?"

Lyssel asked without a beat of hesitation.

Look at that — look! It's totally different!

Pons thought.

The face was still flat, but the response was completely different.

"Are they asking for help?"

"No."

"Then let it be. It's sad, but the emperor will handle it."

"That's what I figured."

"You've really gone soft, Lyssel, haven't you. Is that a good thing?"

"Have I?"

"Yes. You were ready to help when there's nothing in it for you. That's sweet."

Iberin gave a small smile and stroked Lyssel's hair.

"I haven't."

Lyssel held still and let her stroke his head, giving the faintest denial.

Watching from the side, Pons's mustache trembled.

Lyssel's eyes flicked over to him in the same moment.

The lady is being lied to.

Pons wanted to shout it, but couldn't.

---

Just as Pons had predicted, the protests grew fiercer with every passing day.

What started in Roman's lands began bleeding into the neighboring territories.

At this rate, the entire Gelta region was going to be torn apart.

"Those imbeciles!!"

The news soon reached the capital, and the enraged emperor brought his hand down on the desk with a crash, his face mottled red as he shot to his feet.

"Y-Your Majesty, please calm yourself."

"Do I look like I can calm myself?!"

"Even so, sire, you must compose yourself and think this through."

"Phew… Idiots…"

His breath was still coming hard, but the emperor clenched his jaw and let his eyes drift shut, fighting to settle himself.

"Should we prepare to dispatch the knights?"

The morning council's topic was the protests breaking out across the Gelta region.

The nobles kept stealing glances at the emperor, at a loss for what to do.

"Did you really need to ask?!"

The empty seat where Marquis Civelli used to sit weighed heavily on the room.

The other nobles only watched the emperor's mood and bent whichever way it blew — there wasn't a backbone among them.

The highest-ranking among those present, Duke Cherity, had little interest in affairs of state to begin with; even today he was just occupying his chair.

"Round up every noble in Gelta. Drag them in."

The emperor ground out the words through his teeth.

"But that would shatter the balance of power across the south, sire."

The noble had reasons for saying it.

In truth, when you spoke of the mainstream powers in the south, you were talking about the Gelta Six and House Marquis Bilson.

The Gelta Six had wielded influence for years thanks to the long-standing alliance between Alketa and Roman, both formerly counts. House Bilson had carved out its territory through trade.

The two pillars had stood as the south's twin powers, but Lecashe's sudden lawsuit had thrown that delicate balance off.

The two counts had been demoted to viscounts — change enough on its own — and now there were uprisings to deal with.

Anyone could see they were past saving. But letting all of the south's power consolidate around Marquis Bilson was too dangerous.

"You're telling me to leave those imbeciles seated as nobles?!"

The rage he'd barely managed to leash burst free again.

The nobles went silent as the dead.

"When I say arrest them, you arrest them!"

"Yes, Your Majesty. We'll dispatch the First Imperial Knights at once."

"Do it."

The emperor was still trembling, struggling against the unending rise of his fury.

The nobles felt as if they were walking on cracking ice, too terrified to even draw a full breath.

"Out!"

In the end, the emperor's order to clear the room came down.

Ever since the execution of his closest confidant, Marquis Civelli, the emperor hadn't known a single peaceful day.

He'd killed the man himself, but Civelli was still a loss that stung.

"Where did it all go wrong?"

The emperor murmured it under his breath.

"…Is it because of Lecashe?"

Everything had started unraveling from the moment that Grand Duchess of Lecashe appeared.

He'd thought she was an eyesore from the start, but his tolerance for her was running thinner by the day.

"Should I just kill her?"

The emperor's eyes flashed, as if he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it sooner.

That was it. Just kill her.

If she were dead, Lecashe would go back to what it had been, and everything would settle down.

"But who…"

The emperor was powerful, but the power was the position — it didn't mean he was strong as a person.

Even after thousands of years, no one dared go up against Lecashe — still called the strongest in the land.

For that matter, who could go up against Lecashe — emperor or not?

That was why every emperor of Areta, generation after generation, had kept Lecashe in check.

The founding emperor might not have, of course, but it was a fact that the impulse had grown stronger over time.

Before passing him the throne, his predecessor had been the same.

Crown prince. You'll think you have everything.

I don't think that, Father.

Good. Remember it. Remember it well.

May I ask why you bring this up so suddenly?

Always — always — keep watch over the Grand Duke of Lecashe. When the time comes, you'll understand that what you call yours was never truly yours to begin with.