Chapter 66: Presidential Government - The Shadow’s Q&A
We set off for the capital, Lumière, with Hassan and Chandra in tow.
It was deep into the night.
As our party sat around the campfires dotted here and there, preparing for
the night’s rest, I found myself deep in conversation with Hassan, who was
known to be an official of sorts.
“So, you’re saying your group has already taken control of about half of the
Iberian Peninsula?”
Hassan seemed every bit the composed and serious bureaucrat one might
expect.
It’s hard to tell because of the difference in skin color, but judging by
his stylish beard and the slight wrinkles on his forehead, he appeared to be
in his forties, maybe?
“Yes, Your Excellency. Our brothers are already united and fighting under
King Croxus.”
Hassan didn’t explicitly mention it, but combating the barbarian tribes and
the Port of Porto, backed by the Abyss Corporation, mustn’t be an easy task.
Especially given the barbarians’ chronic reliance on hunting and plundering,
the lack of proper ports and trade routes must be a significant issue,
hamstringing their efforts.
Still, if half of the Iberian Peninsula’s barbarian tribes are following
them, it’s clear that Croxus has proven his worth.
Judging by the way these two treated Croxus, he must also be well-respected.
“Haaa!!”
I turned my head when I heard a shout and the sound of a sword cutting
through the wind.
Gaston’s greatsword split the air, and Chandra, who had leaped back to avoid
it, landed and immediately charged forward again.
The crescent-shaped blades in Chandra’s hands sparkled in the campfire
light, a unique sight.
Gaston managed to fend off her attacks with brute strength, but Chandra used
that momentum to leap up and, flipping through the air, swung her swords in
rapid succession.
Such a fast and agile dual-wielding style was entirely different from the
fighting techniques of Francia’s knights.
With skills like hers, she could easily overpower one or two ordinary
knights, couldn’t she?
“Ha!”
“Aargh!”
However, Gaston was not an ordinary knight, and every time he swung his
sword, Chandra, who was jumping up and somersaulting in reaction, was scared
and caught Gaston’s sword and then bounced away.
Even then, her skillful mid-air twist to land properly was impressive.
That aside, I recalled the phrase used by Croxus and asked.
“Which number among King Croxus’s confidants is this warrior Chandra?”
“She is the seventh, Your Excellency.”
The seventh confidant, huh? So, does that mean this woman is the seventh
strongest among Croxus’s subordinates?
As I pondered this, Hassan added,
“I am the second, Your Excellency the Duke.”
...?
I took a surreptitious glance at Hassan.
His physique hardly seemed trained... Ah.
“So being a confidant of King Croxus isn’t limited to warriors?”
“Indeed, Your Excellency. The King values not just martial prowess but also
knowledge and other talents.”
Hearing Hassan’s answer, I discarded all my previous notions about the
barbarians.
I had thought of them as beast-like, worshiping only strength.
Had we been completely wrong, or even if we were right, such information
wouldn’t apply to the new kingdom established by Croxus.
Still, that raises a question.
“Then, where does Chandra rank among your warriors in terms of strength?”
“She is the fourth strongest, Your Excellency.”
Gauging the skill difference between Gaston and Chandra, I inquired further.
“How does the strength of the confidants compare to that of King Croxus?”
Hassan laughed deeply.
“It would take the four of us, including Chandra, attacking simultaneously
to even stand a chance against the King. While the generous King Croxus
highly values wisdom as well, traditionally, only the strongest can claim
leadership among the orcs.”
His face was filled with respect and belief.
“That’s impressive.”
It might be an exaggeration, but Croxus’s strength could possibly rival that
of the Blue Knight.
Clerics and noble-born legislators might harbor strong aversions against
them, but the more I learn about them, the more I lean towards fostering a
friendly relationship.
Beyond their strength, if they truly take over the Iberian Peninsula, Porto
Harbor would fall into their hands too. For Christine’s sake and to maintain
the trade routes of the Aquitaine Trade Association, it would be prudent to
build a friendship with them.
Moreover, since they are at odds with the Abyss Corporation and it’s highly
unlikely for the Holy Church to engage with these so-called heretics,
becoming their trade partners could lead to a significant alliance.
“The more I hear about you, the more intrigued I become. I hope this
negotiation yields a positive outcome.”
Hassan smiled slightly and bowed his head to me.
“King Croxus was pleased to hear that the representative from Francia is a
Duke. I believe I understand why now.”
“Croxus said that? That’s somewhat unexpected.
“Our brothers are well aware of the prejudices the human nations hold
against us. That’s why we never anticipated meeting someone like Your
Excellency.”
Indeed, Croxus seemed quite knowledgeable about human nations. Hassan, being
a human and an official, would naturally know more.
Perhaps Croxus wasn’t so much betting on peace and trade with Francia as he
was trying to gauge Francia’s intentions while waging a unification war
across the Iberian Peninsula.
“Forgive my boldness, but just as Your Excellency finds us intriguing, we
feel the same. You’re quite different from the knights of Francia we’ve
heard about. Perhaps our god has reserved Your Excellency especially for our
brothers.”
It’s also kind of interesting to see a pagan who doesn’t believe in the God
of Light talk like this.
“Having my long-held beliefs overturned is an experience I’m familiar with.”
“For someone of Your Excellency’s stature to have such an experience, it
must’ve been no small matter.”
I merely responded with a wry smile.
Experiencing a revolution and coming close to the guillotine is indeed no
ordinary affair.
It’s taught me just how flimsy the values and stereotypes I held were.
“Aaaaah!”
Just as I thought the scream was nearby, Chandra, who was flung through the
air, landed a short distance from us.
“Oof...”
Seeing Chandra drop her twin swords and writhe on the ground clutching her
waist, I gave Gaston a knowing smile.
“It seems the match has been decided.”
Gaston, slightly out of breath, approached and nodded to me, then extended a
hand to Chandra.
“Well fought.”
After a moment of hesitation, Chandra took Gaston’s hand, pulled herself up,
and then turned to Hassan and shouted,
“Brother, I like this man!”
Gaston’s eyes widened in shock, freezing on the spot, while Hassan furrowed
his brows and massaged his forehead.
...Wait, brother? Not father?
I glanced at Chandra. She looked to be around the same age as either Gaston
or me?
“My apologies, Your Excellency. The child is ignorant of Francian
etiquette...”
“No, that’s fine. But pardon me, Hassan, your age is...”
“...Twenty-six, Your Excellency.”
Twenty-six with that face? Are you expecting me to believe that?
He looks well into his mid-thirties, at the very least.
Chandra burst into laughter at my expression, and Hassan, seemingly
accustomed to such reactions, sighed with a mix of resignation and amusement
before responding.
“Yes, Your Excellency, I am indeed twenty-six. There’s no need for such a
sympathetic look.”
***
In the Republic of Francia’s capital, Lumière.
Beneath the unlit stained glass, the dim light of candles encircling the
holy figure illuminated the dark chapel.
Countess Christine Aquitaine of Aquitaine, with her poised and measured
steps, entered the chapel.
Dressed in a gown reminiscent of mourning attire and her long black hair
cascading down her back, she moved past the empty chairs of the chapel,
seemingly blending into the shadows with each step she took.
At least, that’s how Bishop Arno Richelieu, standing at the pulpit and
watching her approach, felt.
The lady, cloaked in darkness more than anyone, reached the front of the
pulpit, lifted her gown slightly, and bowed her head in greeting.
“Countess Christine Aquitaine, a merchant leader and member of the Central
Party of the National Assembly, extends her greetings to the esteemed Bishop
Arno Richelieu.”
“The humble servant of God, Arno Richelieu, greets the Countess of
Aquitaine.”
As Christine received his greeting and raised her head, slowly opening her
eyes, Bishop Richelieu was struck by a completely different impression than
what he’d heard. Her eyes, though seemingly cold at a glance, held a
dangerous intensity that only the most formidable of beings possessed.
Could this really be the gaze of a mere 22-year-old woman?
Bishop Richelieu, internally shivering, offered her a seat.
“It’s not as grand as a noble’s drawing room, but if it pleases you, would
you sit in one of the chapel chairs?”
“Thank you for your consideration, Bishop.”
Christine gracefully opened her black fan and, covering her mouth, seated
herself on one of the chapel chairs.
Bishop Richelieu slowly descended from the pulpit to sit beside her.
“So, what brings you to seek out this humble servant of God?”
Fluttering her fan lightly, Christine responded with a serene voice.
“It’s been quite some time since I arrived in the capital, but I’ve been
longing for an opportunity to meet you, Bishop, whom I greatly respect.
Recently, as the turmoil in the capital subsided and you returned to your
flock, I, as a believer, felt compelled to seek an audience.”
Bishop Richelieu swallowed hard.
Her words were polite enough, but they could also be interpreted as a subtle
rebuke for his absence during the capital’s times of trouble.
“...I see. I was unaware of the Countess’ deep faith.”
“Even so, the Aquitaine Trade Association, under the patronage of Duke
Lafayette and the saintess, has been involved in numerous charitable
activities. It’s only natural to take an interest in a Bishop who has gained
high esteem by tending to the citizens of the capital.”
Lafayette and the Saintess.
The deliberate mention made Richelieu narrow his eyes slightly, and after a
brief sigh, he opened the conversation.
“Countess of Aquitaine, this humble servant of God has grown weary of the
aristocratic rhetoric.”
Yet, Christine’s expression remained unchanged, her fan fluttering lightly.
“Having served the old regime for far too long, which has since crumbled,
speak plainly about what you desire.”
“It’s nothing significant, Bishop. Considering the changes the capital has
undergone during your seclusion, and how busy you must be, I thought perhaps
I could offer you some assistance, with your permission.”
Christine spoke as if it were a matter of little consequence.
Richelieu narrowed his eyes, trying to discern her intentions, but her
inscrutable dark eyes revealed nothing.
He sighed softly.
“I appreciate the offer, but I’ll have to decline, Countess of Aquitaine.”
Just when Christine’s expression seemed to relax slightly, she snapped her
fan shut with a click.
“It appears, Bishop, that you might be under some misapprehension.”
“A misapprehension?”
Richelieu chuckled, to which Christine responded with a slight smile.
“Bishop, we simply serve our country through the National Assembly.”
Richelieu flinched but responded softly.
“I fail to grasp your meaning, Countess of Aquitaine. Why do you think I, a
lowly servant of God, care about them and the National Assembly and
misunderstand them?”
Christine smiled languidly.
Her approach was neither overtly threatening nor seductively persuasive.
Just the mere confrontation with the intense gaze within her abyssal black
eyes was enough to drain Richelieu of his energy.
After a lengthy pause, Christine spoke leisurely.
“During your retreat, those who depended on your help either starved or were
forced to take up arms in the revolution. And now, despite your return, it
seems you’re not attending to their needs. Rather...”
“Enough.”
Richelieu’s face contorted with frustration.
It was unclear how much this woman knew, but the fact that she blatantly
monitored his movements without any intention of concealing it was taxing
his patience.
“Do you wish to suggest that I join the National Assembly?”
“We have already resolved misunderstandings with the western believers and
lifted the church oppression decree through the Assembly. If you were to
join us-”
“I have no intention of doing so.”
Despite having her conciliatory efforts rejected, Christine merely smiled
subtly, and that was the limit of Richelieu’s patience.
“I have no desire to become one of the puppets of your Central Party.”
“Puppets, you say? Such words hardly seem fitting for a man of faith.”
“No? Is not the National Assembly incapacitated, held by the leash of your
financial influence?”
“As a member of Francia, I have merely provided the help that the state and
government needed.”
“It hardly seems appropriate for someone engaged to a man who massacred in
the heart of the city, disregarding the laws of Francia.”
For the first time, the masked smile faded from Christine’s face.
Seeing her expression, Richelieu felt a slight pang of guilt and hurried to
explain.
“I am aware of the injustice you faced, Countess, and I regret it. But even
so, the actions of Duke Lafayette were no different from those men. In the
end, he used terror to dominate the National Assembly, effectively
neutralizing it.”
Richelieu had seen it all and concluded there was no hope in this National
Assembly.
He believed in Raphael Ballian, who, unlike Pierre de Lafayette tainted by
politics, had achieved pure military glory, to lead the people.
Instead of the perpetually conflicted and divisive National Assembly,
Ballian would lead the people and the military, with Richelieu managing the
politics to support him.
“If Duke Lafayette had arrested them and brought them before the National
Assembly’s court, would they all have received proper punishment? In that
very Assembly filled with those who disregard the law? If not, what
guarantee is there they wouldn’t resort to easier, more effective methods
again?”
Richelieu expected Christine to defend Lafayette.
He thought she would argue the shallow difference between terrorizing
civilians indiscriminately in the city and targeting only the guilty
politicians and their henchmen.
So, Richelieu found himself unable to respond.
“In the Eastern Empire, there’s a saying: ‘Kill one to warn a hundred.’ Duke
Lafayette may have repaid terror with terror, but in doing so, he ensured
that no one in the National Assembly could consider terror as an option.”
“So, the ends justify the means?”
“Not at all, Bishop. However, in a society still finding its footing, where
justice cannot function properly, insisting on justice from only one side is
unrealistic. Just as someone who is merely good and upright can be trusted
but not relied upon.”
After finishing her point, Christine looked piercingly at Richelieu.
“...Do you not agree, Bishop?”
Richelieu flinched.
In condemning Duke Lafayette’s morality, he couldn’t claim his own plans
were entirely ethical.
As a cold sweat ran down Richelieu’s back, Christine slightly tilted her
head and spoke.
“If we abandon correction and disrupt order, only perpetual chaos will
remain.”
Richelieu furrowed his brows.
“It’s something someone from the National Assembly said. The chaos devoid of
justice and order has been long and bloody enough. Now is the time of
transition, to rebuild everything from its end.”
How much does this woman know?
“It’s getting late. I hope for an opportunity to receive your teachings
without any misunderstandings, in a better atmosphere.”
Bishop Richelieu could only nod, unable to reply.
Only after the sound of Christine’s footsteps had faded did Richelieu turn
to look back.
Christine, moving away slowly, stopped and turned towards Richelieu as she
blended into the darkness where the candlelight couldn’t reach.
Though her expression was obscured by the shadows, Richelieu felt a jolt as
their eyes met, hers shining fiercely even in the dark.
Without another word, Christine turned and left.
Yet, Richelieu couldn’t forget the look in her eyes.
So utterly cold, as if assessing whether he was worth keeping alive or not.
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