Chapter 31: Revolution Era - The Person You Are
In a basement where not a single beam of light permeates.
Creeeak-
With the sound of iron bars opening and approaching footsteps...
Harphas struggled to suppress his shivering body, to no avail.
Realizing that the person turning the corner, dressed in a black gown with
raven hair, was Christine Aquitaine, Harphas felt a faint sense of relief.
“...This is a bit too much.”
Christine frowned slightly as she approached Harphas, who was chained and
seated.
“Ugh, the smell.”
As Christine covered her nose with her hand, Harphas shuddered with
humiliation and shame.
Being bound to the chair, unable to properly relieve himself, it was natural
for him to be enveloped in foul odors.
If it were the old days, he would have torn a powerless human woman to shreds
in an instant, but now, weakened by long torture and bound by magic-sealing
shackles, his body was extremely frail.
Christine, briefly grimacing, acclimatized to the smell and sighed softly,
extending a bottle of water to him.
Harphas unknowingly bowed his head and drank the water frantically.
After quenching his thirst, he realized his situation was no different from a
bird being fed by humans, engulfed in self-loathing.
His rage at being treated this way by mere humans had long since faded. He was
too pained, too exhausted for such emotions.
Never before had he so resented his demon race’s robust vitality.
‘Wouldn’t it be better to die than to live like this?’
As Harphas harbored such thoughts, Christine spoke.
“There’s some good news, Harphas.”
“...Good news?”
Harphas’s voice was tinged with a metallic rasp, but Christine seemed
unperturbed.
“Abyss Corporation has reached out. It seems they don’t want to hand you over
to the Holy Church.”
Harphas breathed a deep sigh of relief.
It was typical of Abyss Corporation to cut losses, even if it meant
sacrificing a demon, but they seemed concerned about how a high-ranking demon
like him would be utilized by the Holy Church.
Christine continued, avoiding eye contact.
“Honestly, I have no particular aversion to demons, as I’ve been doing
business with Abyss Corporation. If it benefits me, handing you over to them
is preferable. However, Duke Lafayette...”
Upon hearing that name, Harphas couldn’t help but tremble.
That man, even more demonic than a demon, harbored a vehement hatred for
demons, evident in the diligent research and effort he invested in inflicting
every possible torment upon Harphas.
Christine, observing Harphas’ shuddering, gave an awkward smile.
“...As you know, he, true to a knight’s nature, particularly despises demons.
Plus, he’s seething since he discovered the information you leaked was false.”
Harphas’ face turned ashen.
Initially, Harphas had lumped Christine and Pierre together as being in
cahoots.
But compared to the man who made him wish for death with each encounter,
Christine, who occasionally visited without causing harm and with whom he
could actually converse, had become a welcome presence.
“As I said, if Duke Lafayette agrees, I’d prefer to send you back to Abyss
Corporation. They don’t skimp on such matters, and it’s a burden for me to be
entirely at odds with them,” Christine said, feigning sorrow.
“However, the Duke won’t consent until he’s extracted everything valuable from
you. ...You know what I mean. I don’t wish for a situation where the Duke, in
his rage, loses control and ends up killing you.”
Harphas nodded fervently at Christine’s words.
Resigned to a fate of relentless torture followed by a horrific end at the
hands of the Holy Church, he had given up hope. But returning to Abyss
Corporation might offer him a new opportunity, even if it meant losing all his
past achievements.
It was clear that even the worst-case scenario there would be far better than
being handed over to the Holy Church.
A faint glimmer of hope appeared in Harphas’ eyes, and seeing this, Christine
smiled gently, her deep and dark eyes sparkling.
“Good. I’ll hope to bring you better news as soon as possible.”
***
Harphas’ resilience and tenacity, as a high-ranking demon, were even more
remarkable than I had anticipated.
It seems that unless the core, equivalent to a human’s brain or heart, is
destroyed, almost any wound can regenerate.
Thankfully, the magic-restraining device had significantly weakened his
regenerative abilities. I honestly thought a bit of torture would do the
trick, but he was unexpectedly tenacious.
In the end, it was only after consulting with Christine and deciding that I
would play the role of the whip and she the carrot, that we were able to
extract some crucial information.
Even then, it took time to cross-verify everything, but by the end of spring,
we had gathered quite a lot of useful information.
I was in a carriage with Christine, heading to Poitiers, a city in the central
part of the Kingdom of Francia.
To make contact with the revolutionary army.
Inside the carriage, soundproofed and blacked out so no one outside could see
or hear us, we relied on magic lamps to peruse the documents.
I looked at the documents and opened my mouth.
“Is it okay, Christine?”
“What is?”
“Bringing your brother along.”
Christine had brought her younger 10-year-old brother, Louis, on this trip.
“When I was his age, I was managing a trading company. It’s good for him to
see and learn.”
Christine’s reply was business-like, but was that really feasible for anyone
other than her?
“Anyway, it’s probably harder for him to stay at the mansion without me, under
the servants’ watchful eyes.”
“I see.”
I readily agreed. Despite her pretense of indifference, she was quite
indulgent with her brother.
Returning to the documents, I couldn’t help but let out a wry laugh.
“The revolutionary army is a mess, too.”
Benoit Revere, the most fervent advocate of courage and freedom against
foreign enemies, elected as president in the National Assembly.
Revere’s close associates have been selling nobles, their servants, soldiers
of the royal army, and those deemed ‘anti-revolutionaries’ by the
revolutionary government to Abyss Corporation. And Revere himself is enjoying
the luxuries and pleasures bought with that money.
I’m not sure if Revere himself knows the source of this money, but I can only
imagine the reaction of the Francia people, who shudder at the mere mention of
demons, if they ever found out.
This kind of activity isn’t limited to Revere’s inner circle. Even among the
moderates, whom we’re considering collaborating with, there are those who have
ties with Abyss Corporation.
“...We’re planning to share this information with Nicolas Briso during our
meeting with the moderate faction of the revolutionary army.”
Nicolas Briso, who has shown interest in us, has already made several indirect
contacts. This time, we’re meeting him in person.
“This information should help them expand their influence,” I nodded in
agreement.
Christine narrowed her eyes thoughtfully and responded, “Right. But at the
same time, I’m concerned. Attacking Revere to weaken the radicals and
strengthen the moderates might work, but the radical faction is too powerful
within the revolutionary government. Even if Revere is ousted, it’s unlikely
that the radicals will completely lose their influence.”
Christine finished speaking and held up two documents.
“There are two people from the radical faction who could replace Revere: Jean
Malraux and Maximilian Zidor.”
“Both are dangerous for us.”
Malraux, through his newspaper ‘The People’s Friend’, aggressively advocates
for the annihilation of nobles and royalists, branding them all enemies of the
people.
Maximilian Zidor, on the other hand, is the very person who beheaded me before
my return.
Revere, although more moderate than these two, is still a big fish. Without
sacrificing someone of his stature, it’s difficult to strengthen the
moderates’ influence. Without their help, our cooperation with the
revolutionary government would also be challenging.
Lost in thought, I was brought back to the present when Christine spoke up.
“We’ll need to come up with a plan.”
“...How so?”
Christine smiled slightly.
“It might not be the most knightly method.”
“I trust you, Christine. Do what you think is necessary.”
My response came naturally, almost without hesitation.
Christine smiled faintly at my words, but quickly composed herself and
continued.
“Well, I would like to hear your thoughts on this.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Aquitaine family, originally merchants who bought their titles, would
readily sell their lands for a greater profit if given the opportunity. In
some ways, they’re not so different from the so-called leaders of the
revolutionaries.”
After a pause, she added,
“But you’re different. The Duke of Lafayette may be a rising family, but your
vassals, the Counts of Toulouse, have never been quiet.”
I thought of Baron Dumont and my vassals. I remembered their vehement
opposition, foaming at the mouth, at the idea of surrendering landownership to
collaborate with the revolutionary government.
“If I were in your shoes, I’d rather join forces with King Louis than with
them. You’re a remarkable knight, aren’t you? Capable of facing a hundred
commoners alone. Yet, do you really intend to stand as equals with these
commoners?”
Christine finished, waiting quietly for my response.
Could I, a knight who uses magic, truly consider myself equal to commoners?
“The honorable knights of the Kingdom of Francia are meant to protect the
people with their great strength, and in return, the people should willingly
obey their lords.”
A centuries-old saying in the Kingdom of Francia, a testament to the enduring,
though wavering, feudal system, asserting the superiority of knights over
commoners.
“I think of it simply. I am a knight, but unlike you, Christine, I’m not adept
at managing finances or handling information.”
The magic lamp swayed with the carriage’s movements, casting an illusion of
movement in her deep, dark eyes.
“Knights focused on their training often rely on educated commoners for
paperwork. It’s not a new concept. If merit should determine one’s worth, why
must it be based solely on physical strength? There are even commoners who,
given the chance, could match that strength.”
Gaston is a prime example of this. All humans possess magical powers.
The superior combat abilities of knights compared to commoners are largely due
to the opportunities they have had to receive such training.
But can they overpower all commoners through sheer force? Doubtful. It
wouldn’t have been easy even before the Civil War, and now, with most knights
fallen in battle, it’s impossible.
In the Kingdom of Francia, most nobles aspire to be knights. Therefore, the
majority of magicians within the kingdom, though employed by nobles, are of
commoner origin.
However, the fact that commoners can become magicians means that, given talent
and opportunity, they can also become knights. It’s just that the nobility
doesn’t allow it.
“Most of those great knights can’t handle internal affairs as well as their
own vassals. They scorn merchants, yet they can’t even manage assets. That a
great knight doesn’t necessarily make a great ruler is something King Louis
has demonstrated all too well. The idea of being a superior human is just a
narrative put forward by the privileged class for their own benefit.”
These knights, deemed superior beings due to their formidable strength, were
ultimately defeated by Raphael Ballian due to their overconfidence in their
own power.
In that case, shouldn’t Raphael Ballian, a more superior being than these
knights, be more deserving of being among the ruling class than the nobles?
Christine pondered over my words, then responded.
“I understand your perspective, Duke. But if you think about it, the
revolutionary government isn’t much different. It’s merely a replacement of
the privileged class, with the wealthy seizing power and enriching themselves
by taking from the nobles. Despite the many obstacles we must overcome to
align ourselves with them, you’ve never once wavered from this path.”
After a moment of intense gaze, Christine sighed softly and added,
“Even I, coming from a merchant family, sometimes doubt if this is the right
path. How can you, a true noble, be so certain that this path is correct? Are
you a prophet?”
I responded to Christine’s words with a bitter smile.
“No, in fact, I don’t have great confidence in this revolutionary government
either.”
Seeing Christine furrow her brow, I quickly added,
“But there’s one thing I am certain of. If I had joined hands with King Louis
to suppress this revolution, even if we had emerged victorious after a
protracted struggle, we would have drenched this land in blood and become a
puppet state of the Germanian Empire, perpetuating a more miserable version of
the old regime. And if we had lost, my people and I would have been sacrificed
to the wrath of the revolutionary government.”
At least that much I am sure of. I have seen the future and know how corrupt
and decayed this kingdom has become.
“This revolution is a bloody one. While the anger of the common people
accumulated under the old regime may be justified, that doesn’t legitimize the
chaos they have caused. They are undoubtedly a problematic group, immature and
prone to recklessness. Being a noble and siding with them, we will have to pay
a heavy price. If we fail, it could cost us our lives.”
Yet, the experiences and truths I’ve encountered since my return have
bolstered my conviction. With the old regime in place, there is no bright
future for this country.
“But there is still a possibility. Despite the heavy price, there might be a
chance to grasp a better future. A group that, due to its immaturity, is not
bound by the past and yearns for something new. I have staked everything on
that possibility.”
I want to change the tragic fate that befell those who followed me in the
past, simply because I bore the blood of the Count of Toulouse.
“Perhaps I chose the lesser of two evils to avoid the worst. But I am certain
that it’s better than the worst-case scenario. I have come this far by
persuading those with doubts, seeking help, all for that cause.”
I remember the moment when my entire life was invalidated amidst the jeers,
hatred, and mockery of the crowds.
“So, I will join them. Even if it means selling the estates that nobles
treasure as their life, staining these hands with blood, enduring whatever
hardships may come, just to avoid the miserable fate that would have awaited
me had I clung to the old regime.”
At the very least, when I face death, I want to say I was a better person than
my father, who sacrificed others for his own greatness.
“I am not moving with certainty, Christine. I am just a human struggling to
find a slightly better path, trying to avoid the worst. ...It’s embarrassing
to admit this far along, but that’s why I desperately need the help of people,
your help.”
Christine looked at me quietly and then smiled faintly.
It was a smile different from her usual elegant one, more fitting for her age,
and as I gazed at it in a daze, she spoke.
“Pierre, you. You finally look a bit more human.”
“...And what did you think of me until now?”
“...Hmm, a devil orchestrating everything from behind the scenes?”
At her words, I let out a hollow laugh, and she joined in, extending her hand.
Wondering what this meant, I saw Christine speak with a smile on her face.
“Once again, I’m counting on you. This time, not as a devil, but as Pierre,
the person.”
I smiled back and took her hand.
“Then I’m counting on you too. This time, not as a witch, but as Christine,
the person you are.”
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