Chapter 90: A Merchant’s Friendship

Kokra was the northernmost city of the Greenleaf Plains. From here, heading north, it only took two days to reach Blade’s Edge Canyon, which could be seen from afar alongside the Royal Capital, Morning Light City.

We had just moved into this city.

Though the situation was critical, up until now, we could still say that the Greenleaf Plains was under our control. To the south of the plains, the Cretans who had once fought us head-on were blocked by wind and snow, and still did not know that the enemy before them had long since left the battlefield. To the west, the great army of Crete had just captured Dark Cloud Fortress and had not yet advanced deep into the plains. In their minds, we should have been right on the front lines, about to be surrounded on all sides by them without even realizing it.

Sometimes I couldn’t help but wonder: when Prince Diansos, the commander of the Crete forces, carefully tightened his encirclement, trying to wipe out our army of fewer than ten thousand men, and suddenly discovered that the weak enemy had already fled far away—that this huge net he had so painstakingly arranged hadn’t caught even a single Delanmaya soldier—what would he think? Surprised? Regretful? Or furious with humiliation?

We had fooled the enemy commander, making him launch a massive hunting operation against an empty stretch of land. Sooner or later, this move of his would become known to the world, becoming an indelible stain on this great man’s life.

But we could not be happy, because all of this had been bought with our friends’ own lives. We were even afraid to speak of it.

All of this was about to end. We were like a ship on a long voyage, leaving behind a sea that was calm for now but held a great storm within, about to face an unknown course. No one knew what horrifying calamities were happening on the other side of the mountains, and at the top of the pile of bones where schemers and innocents could no longer be told apart, who was sitting on that throne of power glowing with a pale bloody light.

I rode with the column through the city streets. The sight before me was disheartening. The city, ravaged by war, was already in ruins. On both sides of the road, the people who drifted past were women, the elderly, and underage children. Their gazes lightly touched us, then drifted past emptily as they continued their difficult journeys.

They wouldn’t give us any more attention. That was only natural. In this chaotic and confusing age, a wandering army moving into a ruined city—what could be more normal than that?

A middle-aged man of about thirty suddenly squeezed out from the crowd. He was clearly different from the people around him. His eyes flashed cunningly, revealing a shrewd and experienced look. Though travel-worn, it was clear that the fabric of his clothes was of fine quality and the tailoring was meticulous. He looked carefully at our military banner, then shouted loudly in our direction:

“Do you need supplies, sir? Perhaps we can talk business!”

Normally, merchants would not approach an army directly in a public place to discuss such large transactions. His strange behavior, which went against convention, left me feeling bewildered. His voice came so abruptly that it drew almost everyone’s attention—and that was exactly what he wanted.

When Fred looked at him, his right hand extended from his wide sleeve and, hidden by his left hand, made a secret gesture.

“Yes, we do. Please come with us.” Fred replied without changing his expression, looking as if he hadn’t seen the gesture at all.

For the residents of this city, this was merely a small episode on a quiet street. No one would pay attention to it.

But my heart was pounding, because this merchant’s gesture revealed his identity to us: he was a member of the Enrique Chamber of Commerce. Our young and trustworthy merchant friend, Hugh Enrique, was actively seeking us out. For us, who had been in crisis and cut off from information for some time now, this was no less than a ray of sunlight breaking through a sky full of dark clouds.

“Finally, we’ve been waiting for you.” In a room with completely sealed walls, this middle-aged merchant named Bink let out a sigh of relief and said to us, “To intercept you, President Enrique sent out no fewer than fifty people scattered in the nearest towns, and described your appearances and banners to us one by one, afraid of missing you. Fearing I would ruin something important, I’ve been sleeping in a tent near the city gates these past few nights. Seeing you appear, I can finally breathe easy…” His eyes were red and swollen, bloodshot, looking utterly exhausted. But clearly, his mission had made him forget his fatigue. He told us with slight nervousness:

“Major things have happened in the Royal Capital. You must be very careful…”

Some things, if Bink hadn’t told us, we would never have guessed. For example, while we were in enemy territory, behind us, at the foot of that distant Royal Capital—what exactly had happened.

After King Miguela I passed away, Marquis Meneval immediately declared that his son, Count Kritz, would inherit the throne, and mobilized troops to concentrate toward Morning Light City. Duke Gallett, on the other hand, claimed that the Count’s right to inherit was illegal and that he himself should inherit the throne. At the same time, he quickly left the Royal Capital and gathered his armed forces in the provinces, attempting to seize the throne by force. They contacted officials who held military power everywhere, making promises to them at any cost, drawing in any force they could, trying to deliver a fatal blow on the battlefield to their rivals for the throne. Fred had received such letters too.

They had won over someone they absolutely should not have won over—Baron Miraze.

We didn’t know what methods Baron Miraze had used, but he somehow made both warring sides believe that he would help them and pledge his loyalty to them in this struggle for the throne. By this time, the Baron was no longer the insignificant minor noble with only eight hundred soldiers he had been at the start of the war. He was now the commander-in-chief of the Western Route Army, holding twenty thousand troops, single-handedly resisting the Crete invasion, with outstanding military achievements. After obtaining his guarantee, the two powerful figures naturally felt victory was within their grasp. They hastily deployed their troops at Morning Light City, waiting only for Baron Miraze’s arrival to crush their opponents in one decisive blow.

Sure enough, Baron Miraze withdrew from the front lines at the agreed time and arrived in time at the battlefield beneath the Royal Capital.

His arrival was like a horn of attack, sweeping away the last shred of hesitation between the two armies. The battle began. Those soldiers who wore the same armor, held the same weapons, wrote their names in the same handwriting, and had blood of the same color flowing through their veins finally fought against each other. Just a few days before, they had still called each other “comrades” and “brothers in arms,” but now, to satisfy the insatiable desires of ambitious men, they had to smear each other’s blood on their own weapons. Their courage and lives were cheaply buried in this slaughter that held no honor whatsoever.

At the most chaotic and fierce moment of the battle, Baron Miraze’s army joined the fray.

Every soldier thought this tormenting civil war was over. They might have lost their honor and pride in this long war, but at least they could still save their own lives.

And indeed, the civil war ended.

The Baron’s troops charged into the battle formation without any obstruction. Beneath their blades, the soldiers of both warring sides were no different at all. These poor souls could only watch helplessly as killers dressed in “ally” clothing surged toward them like a tide, mercilessly taking their lives, unable to offer even the slightest resistance. It all happened too suddenly, too quickly, so that apart from despair, they felt nothing at all.

Duke Gallett was killed by Baron Miraze’s own hand on the battlefield, dying a miserable death. After piercing his body, the Baron, as if mad, dismembered him piece by piece, then cut open his belly and chopped off his head. According to Bink, the Baron completed this crazy act while laughing wildly. A friend of his in the army had witnessed it with his own eyes. The Baron at that moment looked like a dead man returning from hell; the smile twisted his face, reminding people of the demons in legends.

Marquis Meneval was captured on the spot. He was no luckier than the rival he had competed with for years—in fact, we could say he fared even worse. He was forced by Baron Miraze to eat Duke Gallett’s corpse. No matter what he had done, no matter how vile and treacherous a man he was, punishing him in this way was going too far. But under the pressure of swords and blades, he actually did it, gnawing one of the Duke’s thighs down to bare white bone. Though he might have said more than once that he “wished he could swallow the Duke’s flesh raw,” he certainly never imagined that one day his words would become reality in such a situation.

On the night the Baron led his army into Morning Light City, nearly seventy noble families of various ranks in the Royal Capital who were connected to Duke Gallett and Marquis Meneval were arrested and executed on the spot under the charge of treason. Executed alongside them were their innocent families and servants.

While the arrests and killings were underway, fires broke out at more than fifty noble mansions in the city. When people tried to put out the fires, thousands of fully armed soldiers blocked them, forbidding anyone from entering the fire scenes under the name of a “fire drill.” Many citizens of Morning Light City witnessed with their own eyes those magnificent and beautiful mansions, symbols of power, wealth, and status, burning and collapsing bit by bit in that blaze of destructive light and heat, until finally reduced to ashes. Only piles of ruins could prove they had once existed.

Not a single person escaped from this massive “fire drill.” The message passed around among the troops was “drill successful.”

And all of this was merely the prelude to a great purge.

The family of Marquis Meneval had no reason to be spared. The next morning, His Lordship the Marquis and his son, Count Kritz, were executed in the busy downtown area in front of the entire city’s population. The manner of their execution was equally cruel. Count Kritz was first hanged on the gallows. When he was about to run out of breath, the executioner cut the rope, then fixed his limbs to an upright wooden board. Next, he used a sharp sickle to cut open his belly, removed his internal organs one by one, and laid them out before his own eyes. Finally, when his blood was about to run dry, he chopped off his head.

Bink witnessed all of this. He said the Count’s screams never stopped from beginning to end, and that agonizing sound still echoed in his ears even now, often becoming the trigger for his nightmares. The Count, suffering under the torture, begged the executioner to do him a kindness and end his life quickly. Of course, his wish was not granted. Only after it was all over did even the executioner, whose face was covered with black cloth, become unable to bear it. He hurried down from the execution platform, leaned against the base of a wall, and vomited heavily.

The Marquis laughed foolishly, drool running from the corners of his mouth, watching his son die horribly before him without any reaction. When Baron Miraze ordered him to eat his son’s internal organs, this old man, whose mind had already collapsed, did so without hesitation. He picked up the heart that had just been cut out of his own son’s body, still warm, and devoured it in big bites. The blood still stored in the heart’s chambers spurted out with each bite, splattering his lips and teeth red. His actions drew gasps of horror from everyone present. Panicked women screamed and ran out of the execution ground, as if the end of the world had come.

In the end, he lost his head in an unconscious state. Even as he was dying, he was still holding his son’s heart in his hands, desperately pushing it toward the air above his neck where his mouth should have been.

Before this unprecedented and cruel execution began, Princess Camori, the only daughter of King Miguela and the wife of Count Kritz, had already committed suicide by taking poison.

“This is impossible!” Suddenly, as if something had occurred to him, Fred let out a low cry and slammed his hand heavily on the table. “If that’s the case, how do you explain the letters we received from the Royal Capital? They bear the emblem of the former Delanmaya royal family. If Miraze hadn’t inherited through bloodline but had overthrown the dynasty through violent means, it would be impossible for him to still use the previous dynasty’s emblem. Especially Miraze—he is such an arrogant and proud man that he would never continue using all the old things after seizing supreme power. He is a noble. He could not possibly overlook such things!”

Fred’s words reminded me. Indeed, before meeting with Roll, we had indeed seen a few letters that had been sent out after this great upheaval, and the royal seal on them had absolutely not changed.

“You’re right, Your Grace, but please let me finish…” Bink pressed his hands downward, signaling us not to get too excited.

“Baron Miraze’s original name was not Stevenson de Miraze, but rather Stevenson tai Miguela…”

“You mean…” Miguela—this surname woven with greatness and nobility, power and temptation—pierced through to our very bones, letting us instantly understand many of the questions that had been troubling us.

“Your guess is correct, sir…” Bink was satisfied with the astonishment we showed. With a slight hint of pride, he continued: “Baron Miraze is the illegitimate son of His Majesty the late King.”

So that was it!

“He brought out evidence that no one could deny—personal letters from the late King and royal items that, by all rights, he should never have been able to obtain. His birth date irrefutably proved that he was the product of a moment of passion during the late King’s travels more than twenty years ago. Therefore, he legitimately inherited the rule of the Kingdom of Delanmaya and became the ninth ruler of this dynasty…”

“That is everything that happened in the Royal Capital that you wanted to know, gentlemen. But this is only what you’re interested in—it’s not my mission.” Seeing that we had come back to our senses, Bink continued in his unhurried tone.

“What President Enrique ordered us to inform you of no matter what is something that concerns your very lives!”

“Baron Miraze—oh, I suppose we should call him King now—announced ten days ago that General Fred and the main officers under his command are traitors, that the remaining forces of the 9th Legion under the General are a rebel army, and that Mr. Red Flame, Mr. Poirot, and the three ladies are enemy spies! For the sake of secrecy, this news has not yet reached the Greenleaf Plains.”

“What!” Dakla shouted angrily. “We’re a rebel army? When we were fighting the Winston, where was this son of a bitch pretty boy? When we were suffering on the front lines, where was this despicable little man? When we were gravely wounded and barely escaping death, where was this shameless schemer? To seize the throne, for his glory and status, he withdrew from the battlefield, and let Riley… let Riley…” At the mention of Riley, this rough man could no longer hold back. He wiped his tears forcefully with his big hands, unable to say another word. His words made us think of our friend who was now lifeless, and unable to contain our grief, tears streamed down all our faces.

Bink felt the heaviness of the atmosphere and waited until we had stopped crying before continuing. Even though we were in a secret room, he couldn’t help glancing toward the door once more, then lowered his voice and whispered:

“President Enrique has received word that King Miraze—oh, calling him King makes me sick—that Miraze fellow has reached an agreement with the Cretans, ceding most of the Greenleaf Plains and the Gemflower Plains area to the Crete Empire, along with General Fred’s head, as the conditions for a ceasefire between the two countries. Only in this way could he concentrate his forces to resist the invasion from the Winston Empire in the north.”

“Why Fred?” Millia, who rarely interjected during our discussions of military matters, now asked loudly.

“Miss,” Bink looked up. Millia’s beauty made the merchant’s mind wander for a moment. A moment passed before he came back to his senses, and he continued to explain: “Leaving such an outstanding general in a defeated country, don’t you think that would be very dangerous?”

It was a very reasonable explanation—so reasonable that I didn’t know what attitude to take toward it. This was the highest evaluation our enemies could give to Fred, yet it was precisely this evaluation that put Fred in danger. It was truly a condition that made us both proud and furious. Our opponents could not defeat our friend on the battlefield, so they reached beyond the battlefield, using schemes and tricks to hurt him and threaten his life.

“Now, Miraze has set up an ambush at the newly built Silver Shield Castle in Blade’s Edge Canyon, planning to strike you down suddenly when you pass through the pass. To prevent information from leaking out, the entrances and exits of the canyon have already been sealed. We came through a secret passage used for transporting goods. President Enrique asked us to tell you that if you have any need, please contact us in time. We can safely deliver you and your friends to a foreign country at any time, no matter what the cost. Please believe us—this is the promise of a group of honest merchants. You can completely trust us.”

“Thank you very much, Mr. Bink.” Fred sincerely grasped the hands of this middle-aged man before him. “You stayed true to your mission and saved all of us in time. I know how much risk you and your friends took to help us. Your selflessness and loyalty will always be our example. I truly don’t know how to express my gratitude to you. What we owe you and your friends could never be repaid even if we spent our whole lives doing so.”

“You don’t need to thank me for anything, sir.” Bink was somewhat at a loss from Fred’s courteous treatment. He stiffly withdrew his hand, and the professional merchant expression on his face instantly vanished without a trace. In his eyes, the extraordinarily handsome young nobleman before him was perhaps an unattainably great figure. Being suddenly treated with such sincerity by Fred truly left him unsure of how to respond.

“I know everything you have done for the President and for us, sir. You saved us many times in our most critical moments…” Bink looked up at Fred. “You are the closest friend of our chamber of commerce. Indeed, we are merchants and we value money, but that does not mean we are indifferent to friendship. Before we set out to intercept you, President Enrique said to us…” He paused heavily, then said word by word: “Friendship is the most precious commodity a merchant can sell. You have already paid the full price, sir. Now is the time to receive the goods.”