Chapter 158

Chapter 158:  Red Mithril (6)

The Saint had arrived.

Even the black knights surrounding the withered wheat field halted at the sight of her.

“……”

Edward was no exception.

He took a cigar from the inner pocket of his jacket.

The second son’s secretary skillfully clipped off the top.

Soon, the acrid scent of the cigar spread across the vast plain.

“So… Roger had a saint on his side.”

Through the white smoke, Istina’s face shimmered faintly.

Standing beside me, she didn’t so much as twitch an eyebrow despite the pungent smell.

“If you back down now, I won’t escalate things further, Prince Edward.”

“The situation is already beyond repair. Just seeing a noble like yourself show up here is proof enough.”

Edward’s cigar burned a deep red.

As if it reflected the turmoil within him.

“Now that it’s come to this, it has to end—one way or another.”

Anyone unaccustomed to cigars would’ve burst into a fit of coughing from just one deep breath.

But the Third Prince seemed to have something far more poisonous in his own body, for he inhaled the smoke with complete ease.

“So, are you really saying you intend to face me?”

The saint crossed her arms alone.

Perhaps she now grasped the gravity of the situation; the exuberance she’d shown before had vanished completely.

“Are you confident?”

“Well, is there any reason I wouldn’t be?”

Edward let out a faint chuckle and hooked the half-smoked cigar behind his ear.

Then, he casually checked the breech of the matchlock rifle slung over his shoulder.

“Looks like you think rising to the position of cult leader automatically means you’ve gained some real power?”

The Third Prince clicked his tongue and shook his head.

Then, with eyes as dark and piercing as the Black Lion’s, he spoke.

“If you wanted to rise, you should’ve moved more quietly. You’ve stirred up such a spectacle, the entire state religion has shifted.”

“What are you talking about?”

The saint furrowed her brow slightly.

“Most of the Nord nobility, myself included, already support Valdes. Even if you become cult leader, you’ll never reach the archbishop’s seat.”

Perhaps because it was something she’d find out soon enough anyway—

Edward explained it to her with a disinterested look.

“Even if you do make it to bishop, you’ll just be the youngest among twelve. Nothing changes.”

“No, at the very least, I’m certain I can have you completely buried by society.”

But Istina was not to be taken lightly either.

Her cold eyes gleamed like those of a silver wolf that never let its prey escape once chosen.

“Exposing all your dirt like this—are you really in a position to be worrying about me?”

“I don’t particularly care if it gets exposed.”

Edward raised one hand.

At his gesture, the black knights who followed him began to tighten their formation around us.

“What’s in those reporters’ bags—if I just take care of that…”

Under the prince’s mustache, his thick lips parted.

The moment after, a viciously honed set of teeth revealed itself.

“If there’s no evidence, all that’s left is suspicion.”

As expected, his goal was the investigative documents we had secured.

As long as he took care of those, he could cover everything up later with Valdes’ power, no matter what the Saint or Gold Morning claimed.

On top of that, fifty percent of Daily Times was already aligned with him and Eric.

That meant all he had to do was cleanly eliminate the only offensive weapon we had—evidence.

Which is exactly why he’d come in person.

“If you’ve figured it out, step aside now.”

Edward no longer bothered with courtesy.

Waving his hand impatiently at the Saint, he motioned for her to move aside.

“If you get hurt too, I feel like the gods might actually punish me or something.”

“……!”

While Istina hesitated, Edward brushed past her in a flash.

And then, right in front of my eyes, he brazenly shoved the muzzle of his gun into my chest.

“Put down all the bags, Roger. Do that, and I’ll let you leave in one piece.”

Cold metal began pressing against my skin.

The discomfort made me furrow my brow on instinct.

“I’m not like your sister. I don’t do polite. Don’t make me say it twice.”

“……”

A cold winter wind swept through the vast wheat field.

The drooping stalks trembled violently.

Even the veteran reporters glanced around with confused, uneasy expressions.

Wearing their own satchels, they stared fixedly at my back, the one with the barrel pointed at it.

They were waiting—for my next command.

“Everyone, bring your bags over.”

I spoke to the reporters in a bold and unwavering voice.

That clearly hadn’t been part of anyone’s plan, and they all hesitated, glancing at each other.

“It’s fine. Just bring them.”

Only after I calmly followed up did they shuffle forward, unsure.

Each of them set their bags down in front of my legs.

“Go on, keep going.”

Edward stared at me wordlessly as I complied without resistance.

His eyes were sharp with the lesson burned into him from back when he’d been burned badly by Deyan’s painting during our trainee days. He wasn’t going to let his guard down.

Matching his energy, I opened all the reporters’ bags.

Then, I pulled out the stacks of densely packed documents and neatly gathered them into one pile.

“That all of it?”

“Yes, it is.”

At last, satisfied with the answer, Edward lowered the gun.

Then he reached out his gloved hand, palm open, demanding the documents.

I slowly placed the thick stack into his hand.

But I didn’t let go right away.

“……”

I looked out over the dark horizon.

The current time was 8 PM.

It had been two hours since we’d descended the mountain to return to Nord.

Two hours was enough to cross a hill.

And beyond that hill, our carriages and horses were waiting along the main road, just where we’d left them.

“Still, I figured having a bit more breathing room wouldn’t hurt.”

“……?”

Edward tilted his chin slightly at my muttered words.

“What did you say?”

Perhaps a sudden wave of unease had come over him, because he gripped the stack of papers in his hand tightly.

However, the hand I had clasped over his didn’t let go so easily.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Roger? Let go. Now.”

“You mean this hand?”

I asked back with an utterly calm expression.

Then, I let go of the papers in the exact way he probably hadn’t wanted.

With a bit of force.

“You bastard…!!”

I snatched back the documents I’d just handed over.

And with a flourish, I hurled them high into the wide, open sky.

――――――.

With a flurry of flapping sounds, dozens of sheets scattered across the black sky.

Carried by the biting winter wind, they fell like snow into the white, withered wheat field.

“What are you doing?! Pick them up! All of them!!”

Edward roared like a lion, shouting at the top of his lungs.

At once, the black knights dropped their lanterns and began bending down to gather the papers.

To me, it looked like they were planting rice in midwinter, and I couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle.

“I did return them properly.”

With my hands behind my back, I leisurely watched the chaos unfold.

And then—

Thwack—!!

A deafening impact slammed into my forehead so hard it made my head ring.

“You filthy little insect—how dare you…!!”

I quickly realized what had hit me.

It was Edward’s prized matchlock rifle.

A red smear of blood was now marked on the buttstock.

And I knew exactly whose blood it was.

Because the same blood was now dripping down from my own forehead.

“Roger…!!”

From behind, I heard the Saint’s voice calling out urgently as she ran toward me.

But the shock had been so intense, I didn’t even think to wave her off.

When was the last time I felt pain like this?

The kind of pain that made your skull feel like it was cracking open.

Right… probably when I drank the poisoned wine Eric gave me.

This damned ducal family never brings me anything but pain.

“Are you alright? Your head’s bleeding…”

“I’m fine. It’s just a light bruise.”

The Saint caught me from behind as I staggered.

Her body, as it pressed gently against mine, was incredibly soft.

“Why did you have to act so stubborn…!! Wasn’t this enough already?”

Maybe it was the panic, but she wasn’t using honorifics like usual.

I looked up at her quietly and gave a faint smile.

“You’re smiling? Even now?”

Maybe because I’d been running nonstop, my lips were chapped and cracked like the withered wheat field around us.

I placed my fingers over her violet lips and whispered.

“Yes. There’s a reason for everything.”

At first glance, it might’ve seemed like a meaningless act of stalling.

But soon, the point of my words became clear—Edward’s secretary, now holding the collected documents, had a darkened expression on his face.

“Master, we’ve gathered all the documents. However… there’s something strange.”

“What now?”

Edward replied with a voice full of irritation, all while wiping the blood-stained matchlock rifle with a sharp flick of his wrist.

“Well… we’ve reviewed everything we collected, and the most important item is missing.”

The middle-aged secretary lifted the monocle perched on one eye.

His gaze exuded the intellectual sharpness of a seasoned aide.

“Mid-level and higher reporters always carry at least one recording orb per department. If they didn’t bring one, then there should be sketches in the report to compensate…”

Edward, already irritable, frowned deeper at the drawn-out explanation.

Sensing this, Tir cut straight to the point.

“There are barely any illustrations in the collected materials. Which means they must have brought a ‘recording orb’ to document the situation—but it’s not here.”

The most crucial visual evidence—

The orb that would contain that proof was missing, and the pile was filled only with comparatively unimportant paperwork.

Edward’s mustache trembled ever so slightly at the revelation.

“……”

Soon, the Third Prince’s gaze turned to me.

Despite being struck in the head, I remained calm, and he looked at me with an expression of sheer disbelief.

“You… what did you do with the recording orb?”

“Recording orb? I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

I answered with a composed expression as I sank down into the wheat field.

“I’m talking about the orb you obviously ordered someone to hide…!! Speak. Now!!”

“Well… I did just get hit on the head, so I honestly have no idea what you mean.”

I gestured toward the dark stream of blood still flowing from my forehead.

Apparently realizing that words wouldn’t get through, Edward turned his gaze away.

Then, he kicked one of the now-empty reporter bags with all his strength.

But no matter how hard he lashed out, the missing orb wasn’t going to magically appear out of fear.

“Haaah… haaah.”

Breathing heavily from anger, he let out ragged breaths.

Then, looking down at me with a face more chilling than before, he said:

“Fine. Then I’ll beat you until it jogs your memory.”

――――――.

Meanwhile, beyond the wheat field, on a small hill—

There, a blond man was hurrying along with a thick bag slung over his shoulder.

As he moved quickly down the slope, his eyes turned toward the distant wheat field.

“He really was telling the truth…!!”

The plains had been quiet as death for ages.

But all of a sudden, lanterns had flared to life, and the reporters were completely surrounded.

That meant the area had been perfectly camouflaged all this time—so much so that even the sharpest journalists were fooled.

Though he was chilled by how thoroughly his partner had predicted all this, he was even more impressed by the black knights’ skill at hiding themselves.

“No time to admire anything—I've got to get out of here first…”

Mansachs adjusted the strap of the bag carrying the recording orb more securely and began descending the hill.

Before long, he spotted the carriages waiting on the main road in the distance.

The second son of the newspaper company knew exactly which faction those carriages belonged to.

Thanks to that, he let out a sigh of relief and stepped lightly onto the main road.

But—

“Stop.”

He came to an abrupt halt at the sound of a voice that had approached without him noticing.

He hadn’t sensed a single presence.

“State your affiliation.”

The area beneath Mansachs’ eyes twitched violently.

He immediately realized that the situation unfolding in the wheat field had now reached him as well.

“G-Gold Morning.”

The black knights showed no mercy.

So Mansachs, at least for now, obediently revealed his affiliation.

“Gold Morning…?”

The sharp blade aimed at his neck hesitated.

Then, a familiar title echoed from behind.

“Milady, he says he’s from Gold Morning.”

The Grand Duke’s daughter.

The moment those three words rang out,

Mansachs exhaled deeply and closed his eyes.

“You’re Mansachs, aren’t you? What are you doing here alone?”

Soon, Echina and the black knights following her emerged from the brush.

A few leaves had gently landed on her dark hair.

“Echina—it’s you. I thought I was going to die…!!”

Like the head of the press corps that he was, he quickly explained why he had come here.

At the same time, he reported the current situation of a certain man facing off with Edward beyond the hill.

“Roger’s been captured by Edward?”

“Yeah, and it’s serious. He’s completely surrounded by knights!!”

The younger sister, who knew all too well the temperaments of Edward and his men—

Opened her mouth with a grave expression.

“I understand.”

Without hesitation, she mounted her hidden black steed.

In a voice far more solemn than usual, she commanded:

“Only the fastest riders will come with me…!!”

Echina yanked the reins of her beloved horse hard.

With a thunderous stomp of its massive hooves, the black horse galloped up the mountain path.

The reason she had come here—

Was to meet one man.

Before long, the vast wheat field came into view.

And at its center, the glow of burning lanterns.

And soon, she spotted the man she’d been searching so desperately for.

But Echina’s expression showed no joy.

Because the man who always greeted her with a relaxed smile…

“Roger…?”

…was bleeding from the forehead.

The moment she realized the situation—

The light in Echina’s golden eyes vanished.

Her chilling gaze turned toward the black knights surrounding the press corps and him, and then toward her own kin.