The Northern Emperor’s Ambition (2)

“A Hospitaller holding a banquet….”

Azadine let out a bitter smile. He had learned that the Rescue Knights Order had to be founded on sincerity and frugality, but it seemed no one actually upheld that.

“Then I’ll see you at the banquet. I’ll show up then as well.”

Sir Pavel said that and held out his hand to Azadine.

“Sir Azadine, you’ve worked hard all this time. I’ve also praised you a great deal to the higher-ups.”

“Is that so? Thank you.”

Whether the higher-ups had taken Sir Pavel’s praise as pure praise, or felt it as a threat, Azadine couldn’t know. Most likely, it was the latter.

It would be strange if they didn’t feel threatened by the sight of him subduing the Chadra Five Ogres at a frightening pace and expanding his influence.

“Sir Azadine.”

Izmilla stayed behind, watching Azadine even as Sir Pavel left.

“Sir Izmilla. How’s your health?”

“I was born sturdy, so there’s nothing to worry about. It’s all thanks to you, Sir Azadine. Were you worried about me?”

“Of course.”

“Then I’m happy.”

Izmilla smiled.

“When the investigation team disbands, what happens to you? Will you go back to Saint Mallory?”

“Because of what happened with the pilgrimage band, my lack of experience is being treated as a problem.”

Izmilla possessed the power and abilities of an angel, because she was a Celestial created by the Order through some means.

But she still lacked experience—so much so that she’d even suffered the humiliation of being kidnapped by suspicious types—so there were likely voices inside arguing she needed to gain more field experience.

“Where are they going to have you gain experience?”

“I think they’ll create a new internal organization. And it’ll be filled with my brothers and sisters.”

“Don’t tell me they’re founding a unit made entirely of Celestials?”

“Yes. I think I’ll be assigned there.”

“Hmm. In theory it sounds fine, but… which sect is going to command it—Wisdom, Courage, or Benevolence?”

“It seems they’ll select a separate commander internally and run it as an independent unit.”

“Are they all as strikingly handsome as you, with an angel’s dignity?”

“…You flatter me.”

Izmilla didn’t know what to do with herself at Azadine speaking so openly about her looks and talents.

But Azadine’s expression wasn’t one of praise—it was clearly worry.

“The masses will worship Celestials. If they gather people who can only look like heavenly beings, their stature will rise on its own. Then the standing of the existing Rescue Knights Order will fall. And relying on the existence of Celestials itself—doesn’t that weaken the Rescue Knights’ ideals instead?”

“Huh?”

“It isn’t angelic bloodlines. It’s the covenant made with angels—that’s the essence the Rescue Knights Order must protect. But the public will go wild for the Celestials’ beauty and power.”

“…….”

“Sorry, Sir Izmilla. I wasn’t trying to deny your existence.”

“No. It’s just… I never expected to hear the doctrine of the Rescue Knights Order from your mouth.”

“Because I’m from the Messenger Clan?”

“No. You’re right. We’ve learned the doctrine all this time, but I don’t think we ever truly believed it. You genuinely have faith.”

Izmilla saw faith in Azadine. She had been born into the Rescue Knights Order and had lived her entire life pressed up against them, yet seeing someone with true faith felt so unfamiliar it dazzled her eyes.

To think she would see such pure faith in Azadine—someone of the Messenger Clan. Azadine, however, replied as if it were nothing.

“No need to make a big deal out of it. Then, Sir Izmilla—if anything happens, send a letter to Fireglyph.”

“A letter? Ah… yes.”

Azadine had said it to get information about the all-Celestial unit Izmilla would be joining, but Izmilla panicked at his words.

‘If a man and a woman exchange letters… isn’t that the kind of relationship that ends in marriage?’

It was an age where purity and romance coexisted with decadence and indulgence.

An age where, in the city’s dark alleys, a few coins could satisfy anyone’s desires—yet there were also people who would stake their lives on a single line of a letter, a single verse of a poem, and fall in love.

So it was only natural that Izmilla panicked at the suggestion of exchanging letters.

‘Why… is this man…?’

Countless men had approached Izmilla until now.

Those captivated by her alluring looks, her youth, and the refinement of a Celestial.

Izmilla looked at herself by using them as a mirror: a Celestial who carried angelic blood, the Order’s honor and pride, a living weapon.

Because she was constantly made to be aware of that, Izmilla couldn’t share true communion with them. She could only smile awkwardly and refuse their goodwill.

But Azadine wasn’t a mirror.

He wasn’t a mirror reflecting Izmilla like everyone else—Azadine was simply himself.

In the way he always kept himself and approached her confidently, Izmilla became conscious of “the opposite sex” for the first time.

But Azadine didn’t even realize he had shaken her heart. When a soldier from Vermilion Fortress called out, he turned his steps that way.

“Then I’ll be waiting to hear from you, Sir Izmilla.”

“Ah, yes….”

Izmilla ended up making a promise to send Azadine a letter.

Azadine, unaware of what he’d done to Izmilla, moved busily.

With so many people depending on him, there were also many things he had to do. Azadine headed for the alchemy laboratory.

It had originally been the private residence of Sir Hexenmaier, the former Chapter Master, but Azadine had partitioned the building and officially established Fireglyph’s alchemy laboratory.

He stationed Giacomo and Bernard there and ordered them to produce various alchemical products directly.

“You’ve come, Sir Azadine.”

“The work has been progressing smoothly. We’re producing mercury directly from cinnabar and using it as a base to make medicines that sell well.”

“I told you to make whatever you wanted, but maybe that was too irresponsible of me. What are you making?”

“Usually, it’s a cure for ‘Arangiian Plum Blossom.’”

“You can make a cure for Arangiian Plum Blossom?”

Azadine was startled by Bernard’s words.

Arangiian Plum Blossom was a venereal disease that had come from beyond the Hubris Continent.

With the rapid transmission typical of such diseases, it had spread across Hubris in an instant, and because it was first discovered in the Kingdom of Arangi, it was mocked as “Arangiian Plum Blossom.”

Of course, in the Kingdom of Arangi they called it Banreung’s Shame Poison and pinned it on Banreung, and so the two kingdoms waged a fierce war of nerves.

If nothing else had followed, it would have ended with the two kingdoms just sniping at each other.

But the story changed when the Banreung Academy developed a cure.

The cure had to be taken periodically and was extremely expensive, so only those who could bear the financial burden could buy it. Ordinary people who couldn’t pay for the medicine had no choice but to keep suffering from the disease.

In the midst of that, Banreung Academy kept raising the price and raking in exorbitant profits, and the outraged Arangiian merchants petitioned their king.

When the god-king descended from the Yaegas God tribe stepped in, Banreung Academy proposed the following condition.

‘If you officially confirm the disease’s name as Arangiian Plum Blossom, we’ll lower the price.’

Enraged, the King of Arangi cut down Banreung Academy’s envoy, and thus began the war between the Kingdom of Arangi and the Kingdom of Banreung.

The dwarves of Banreung, whose envoy had been murdered, took to the front with their famed stone-shot artillery corps and their dwarven sorcerer units, while the King of Arangi personally marched out with the renowned Arangiian Guard.

The open-field battle was an Arangi victory.

Before the overwhelming breakthrough power of the Arangiian Guard, Banreung’s dwarven sorcerers scattered in all directions, and the plains nearly filled with the corpses of fleeing soldiers.

However, Arangi’s triumphant advance ended there.

After the first battle, Banreung holed up in its rugged mountain terrain and its chain of fortresses and began a siege defense; no matter how strong the Arangiian Guard was, they couldn’t break through Banreung’s mountains and fortresses.

As the tedious siege dragged on, the Kingdom of Arangi ultimately had no choice but to make peace with the Kingdom of Banreung.

The winner of the war was Arangi, which had won a great victory in the open-field battle, so it claimed reparations and the glory of victory—but it had no choice but to accept the shameful name “Arangiian Plum Blossom.”

After that, although Banreung and Arangi were both among the Eight Kingdoms that worshiped the same Yaegas God tribe, they became mortal enemies, and among their peoples “Arangiian Plum Blossom” became a forbidden phrase.

‘Yeah, the ones who won the war were the Arangiian Guard—your Banreung lot were useless, weren’t you? Those dwarven sorcerer bastards valued their own lives so much they didn’t even fight, just ran until their beards fell out, I hear?’

‘Oh, you enjoyed putting up a victory monument, huh? Then why is the disease name still Arangiian Plum Blossom? Yeah?’

Elderly folks would trade words meant to wound each other’s feelings, and later it would devolve into outright fistfights.

And Bernard could make the cure for that very Arangiian Plum Blossom.

This venereal disease had by now become endemic, its virulence weakened, and all who would die had already died—otherwise, if the cure for Arangiian Plum Blossom had leaked at its peak, it would’ve been enough to start another war.

“If I sold it openly, there’d be an uproar. Bernard—who on earth are you?”

When Azadine asked, the one who answered was, surprisingly, Niselda—the half-vampire nun who had followed Azadine inside.

“He is my father. It’s been a long time, Father. Do you recognize me?”

“That appearance… I see. You look just like your mother, Niselda.”

From Bernard’s words, it seemed the two were seeing each other after a very long time.

“You’ve aged a lot, Father. You used to be called Banreung’s greatest handsome man.”

“And you’ve grown so much.”

Bernard recognized her and wore a bitter expression.

“Sounds like you have a lot to talk about as father and daughter. Should I give you some space?”

“No—no, Sir Azadine.”

Bernard looked at Azadine with a desperate gaze, like someone drowning and begging to be saved.

But Azadine pretended not to see it and left the laboratory with Giacomo.

“What do you mean no? Have an honest conversation as father and daughter. You’ll need plenty of time, won’t you?”

“Sir Azadine!”

Bernard usually didn’t show his emotions, but in that moment he truly, desperately wanted Azadine’s help.

Even so, Azadine coldly closed the door.

“So, Giacomo. What kind of man is Bernard?”

“Banreung’s greatest… handsome man. Or rather, he used to be.”

“Handsome?”

“Even if he looks like that now, he was a beauty in his youth. Banreung Academy is ruled by dwarves, so he couldn’t rise to a high position, but among the students he was famous for both his looks and his talent.”

“Really? Unexpected.”

“He could have risen higher, but he became an alchemy slave like us for the crime of stealing medicinal ingredients the Academy held, to save his daughter. It was only something I’d heard about, but I never imagined that daughter would be Niselda.”

According to Giacomo, in his younger days Bernard had stolen and used Banreung Academy’s rare medicinal ingredients to save Niselda. Punished into alchemical slavery, he fled with Giacomo’s group and ended up here.

“You also suffered a lot because of your daughter, didn’t you? Similar circumstances—so you must’ve felt a fellow-feeling.”

“Yes. And to meet like this here… the world really is small.”

“He even knows how to treat Arangiian Plum Blossom—so why didn’t he defect to the Kingdom of Arangi? If he’d switched sides when that disease was at its peak, the reward would’ve been enormous.”

“Then why are you, Sir Azadine, in this backwater as a mere Hospitaller-Errant? In my eyes, you seem far greater than that. Everyone has their own reasons.”

“Fair enough.”

From the start, Bernard had been saying his aim was the blood of an Ancient God.

This mage, with his plain and composed temperament, hadn’t told everything about his purpose, but at least he’d been truthful.

Just then, from far away, the sound of bells began to ring. It was the evening signal that the city gates would soon close.

“Damn—I have to go attend the evening banquet. Talk to Bernard for me.”

Azadine turned to go attend the evening banquet.