Chapter 144

Coup de grâce.

Hunter had spent his childhood on an island.

His homeland, Regalec Island, which he longed for even in his dreams.

The island was part of the Sudelina Archipelago, situated at the far southern reaches of Randall. Beloved by all, it was known by nicknames such as ‘Beautiful Regalec’ or ‘Lady Regalec’, and it was counted among the finest ports in all of Randall.

The soft southern sea he remembered was warm throughout the year. The gentle sea breeze heavy with salt was as soothing as the hem of a smiling mother’s skirt, and in the brilliant sapphire waters, whose swells were never high, women dove for pearl oysters every day.

Girls like young mermaids, their soft, budding breasts wrapped in linen and their modesty covered by thin underpants that came down only to their thighs. They rose and plunged again and again until red gold dust scattered over the blue surface, gathering the moon’s spilled tears with ivory-pale hands.

However, Hunter’s most vivid memory of the island was not those peaceful, beautiful days, but the times when typhoons came. Once or twice a year, without warning, that paradise too was overtaken by the fury of nature.

Signs of a typhoon would appear suddenly from the open sea.

A mass of heavy storm clouds darkening the horizon crept across the sky, casting its shadow from the far edge as if ink had been dropped into clear water. When the furious wind surged between sky and sea so blurred that one could no longer tell where one ended and the other began, the waves, which had lain so gently, would heave themselves up in anger

At such times, the startled fishing boats hauled up their nets in haste and carried every pearl diver back to the port. Shutters were closed in every home, and strong nets weighted with stones were stretched over the roofs.

The force of a typhoon raging over the open sea, nothing to block it, was far more terrifying than land-dwellers could imagine. From then on, no child was allowed out into the alleys. Not only the children, but even the adults stayed indoors.

While everyone held their breath and waited, the typhoon swept toward the island like a proud conquering army. The storm clouds, racing swiftly as they enclosed the island on all sides like a siege, resembled a fearsome cavalry charge, and the roar of thunder rumbling from afar sounded like the drumbeats of an advancing army.

The young boy loved that moment most. Just before the typhoon struck, the very moment when the impending tragedy reached its feverish peak, and the air itself tightened with tension, was unbearably thrilling. To a troublesome boy who adored tales of chivalry and played at war every day, the overwhelming grandeur of nature was nothing more than a marvelous spectacle he never saw in ordinary life.

Even when the wind, sharp as a blade, tore through his hair as if clawing at him, even when his ever-anxious mother scolded him that it was dangerous and urged him to close the shutters and step away from the window, he never closed them until the last possible moment.

…Of course, the only reason I could do that was that, even as a child, I knew I was in a safe place.

Hunter, recalling that distant memory, now nearly faded with time, suddenly drifted into thought. What once he had waited for with such delight now made his knees go weak, and it was surely not simply because age had made him timid.

The operation is on the final day of Ash Week.

Check the wine barrels for the cargo.

I will remain here for the time being to observe the situation.

Good luck.

– Baron Amieux

xIYJbI skwEIb’t INIt tEJJH G hGw tEGbQwV YQgIHSN GE G ibQIY SIEEIb vJwEGQwQwV JwSN YJkb SQwIt. F rbJYQSI tJ YQwI EaGE QE HItIbAIH GHhQbGEQJw IAIbN EQhI JwI tGL QE, G iIGkEQYkSSN YIGEkbIH hGw LaJtI IgrbIttQJw LGt Gt aGbH Gt vGbAIH hGbiSI. TaI bIGtJw wJ YSJbQH rabGtIt SQBI QAJbN Jb twJL-LaQEI rSGtEIb LIbI GHHIH EJ HItvbQiI EaGE QwtGwI iIGkEN LGt tQhrSN iIvGktI aQt IgrbIttQJw LGt EbkSN Gt bQVQH Gt tEJwI.

“…vI mCfI mtDLe NLL mCJ yJEI CJ EfICJz mO hOyFJe?”

His quietly muttered voice was dark and heavy, like a storm cloud holding lightning.Rumble, rumble.It was neither typhoon season nor even the season for sudden showers, yet Hunter heard the hallucinated growl of distant thunder.

aFJy mCODqC CJ IJJoJz mO gJ IDRRtJIIfyq fm, mCJ AOthJ OA CfI tfIfyq mJoRJt ENI JPmtNOtzfyNte. sI Nye LOyJ CDoNy EODLz AJJL gJAOtJ mCJ OFJtECJLofyq ROEJt OA yNmDtJ, dDymJt AJLm CfoIJLA ICtfyXfyq gJAOtJ mCJ mJttfAefyq NyqJt mCJ oNy CJLz. WfmCODm tJNLfpfyq fm, CJ ImtNfqCmJyJz fymO N CDogLJ ROImDtJ Nyz NyIEJtJz CfI UDJImfOy ROLfmJLe.

“He likely had no other choice. He said he could not write a long message because he did not have anything to write with.”

He was not making excuses. That was simply how it had been. Eugène had been stripped of everything but the shirt and trousers he wore, and Gecko, who had gone to make the contact, had not brought refined belongings like a portable writing set. It was fortunate that there had at least been charcoal. Without even that, he might have had to write in blood.

Upon hearing Hunter’s answer, the man lifted his head and looked back at him. Those legendary eyes of his, usually described in the erotic books he sold with florid phrases like honey-colored, or golden, or even radiant as the sun, now looked unmistakably like those of a beast.

Bright amber eyes that matched frighteningly well with his sullen, brooding complexion. A gaze so deadly that meeting it in the dark might give someone a heart attack.

Good grief, he could devour a man with his eyes alone.

Hunter, meeting his gaze, quickly lowered his eyes under the pretext of showing respect. Looking down at the crown of Hunter’s bowed head, the man asked quietly.

“‘Could not write a long message’? Then are you saying that you did not see him yourself?”

Hunter felt his spine prickle at the unexpected fault-finding. The man’s voice had no noticeable inflection, as though he were holding back his emotions, yet even so, the faint note of interrogation beneath it was anything but ordinary.

As the sparks suddenly flew his way, the good-natured fence, who had only meant to carry out the deal faithfully, could not help feeling a vague sense of injustice.Why me…However, in an atmosphere like this, it was a complaint he could not possibly voice aloud.

“Th-The matter is… It seems the place where he is currently being held is an important stronghold to them, because the perimeter around it is no ordinary guard line. They do not even employ servants and handle all matters themselves, and the comings and goings are controlled so thoroughly that a stranger has no chance to slip in. I myself could find no opening to infiltrate, so I had no choice but to send in a child small enough to climb a chimney, and we merely exchanged messages through him.”

“Hearing this, it seems you were watching the place for quite some time. Since when did you know he was there?”

“Before the infiltration, Baron Amieux had sent me word in advance. He said that if anything suspicious happened while he was keeping watch on the Viscount Gagnon’s household, I must shadow him without fail, and I merely obeyed that request faithfully.”

Whatever bothers you, it’s not my fault. He is the one who ordered me!If he could have, Hunter would have shouted as much in his own defense, but he confined himself to reporting the facts as they were. The man listened, then lightly bit his lip, as though something else had rubbed him the wrong way.

“…Where is that place?”

He asked in a voice that made it plain he had more to say but was holding himself back.

“That… that is difficult to say.”

“The reason?”

“Before he set things in motion, Baron Amieux sent me a letter with a particular request. He said that if his aim were to be discovered even by mistake, everything would come to nothing, so I must act as discreetly as possible, and that any information I learned from it must not be shared with anyone. If word were to travel from mouth to mouth, the secret might leak, and then we might lose the fish already caught. He said it would be best if, until the day itself, I alone knew of it and that I kept silent even to Your Maj—”

Hunter trailed off, for he caught the spark of bright yellow lightning flaring in the Emperor’s eyes, and quickly changed his tune. There was no need to offend the mood of the empire’s highest authority simply to avoid answering. And honestly, what loyalty did he owe Eugène that he should go out of his way to honor such detailed, exceptional instructions? Judging from the way that request had been worded, Eugène must have known very well how the Emperor would react.

“He did say such things, but even so, this concerns the safety of a person of importance. There is no helping it. I shall give you the address. Shall I draw you a rough map as well?”

Hunter, whose only crime was that he had come as promised to deliver a letter, was finally released from the Emperor’s grasp after confessing everything he knew about Eugene’s situation. Victor Adelphe, seeing him stagger away as though dazed, glanced back at the Emperor with a cautious look.

Four days ago, after leaving the Imperial Library in a hired carriage, Baron Amieux vanished without a trace. When Ebroin V belatedly realized that he had disappeared so cleanly, he quietly sent people out to find him, but thus far, they had not recovered a single clue.

They managed to learn only that he had visited the Viscount Gagnon’s estate according to schedule. After that, it was total darkness. No one knew where Eugène had gone after leaving that place

But with urgent national matters piling up, they could not devote their efforts to searching for him indefinitely. The personnel they could assign were limited, and so was the Emperor’s time.

Perhaps because of the resulting mental strain, Ebroin V’s insomnia had flared up again in recent days. He had shown signs of it before, but had always concealed it so well that no one knew; this time the symptoms were so severe that not only his close aides, but even those around them, had begun to sense something was wrong.

The Emperor, arms folded, leaned against his desk and closed his eyes. No one knew what he was thinking, but it was unmistakably clear to anyone that his mood was extremely unsettled. Because the Emperor’s body was unwell, Baron Bouilhet, who, unusually, had been assigned duties outside the palace, brought him a cup of mulled wine, heated to perfection, in an effort to lift his spirits. The Emperor frowned in displeasure but nonetheless accepted the cup he was offered.

“His mouth is far too loose to be considered trustworthy. What, exactly, does Eugène rely on to discuss all matters with that man?”

Ebroin V, with little appetite, simply pursed his lips and set the cup down, voicing his complaint in a petulant tone. Victor could only give a bitter smile. Unlike the Emperor, Victor understood Hunter’s circumstances.

In front of Ebroin V in a mood such as this, even Hunter’s grandfather would have been compelled to spill everything he knew.

“Chasseur has known Baron Amieux for over ten years. Perhaps one cannot call them friends, but they have engaged in long-standing dealings, which naturally builds a degree of trust.”

“However, he once lured Eugène into a trap.”

The Emperor had not forgotten this, as if it were an unforgivable grievance. Baron Bouilhet, having no need to add his own words in such a situation, remained silent. Approaching the Emperor in turn was Victor, who, cautiously gauging the mood, waited for the proper moment to speak.

“Your Majesty, I beg your pardon, but…”

“What is it?”

“With all due respect, may I take a look at that letter?”

No one in this room was unaware that Baron Amieux’s disappearance was intentional. Indeed, the Emperor’s sleepless nights were filled with worry, and there was good reason for that.

Eugène, who had discerned the identity of the ‘cargo’ ahead of everyone else, acted decisively without waiting for anyone’s permission. To trace information about it, he had risked his own safety in an extraordinary gamble.

From an outsider’s perspective, his method seemed unlikely to succeed, yet it had a calculated purpose. As it turned out, he had succeeded quite spectacularly. Victor, intuitively, could tell that the letter Eugène had sent contained information regarding the matter.

Ebroin V clicked his tongue in displeasure at his request. But Victor remained steadfast. He knew the Emperor was in a foul mood, but to fail to verify such information, given his position as the head of the intelligence organization, would have bordered on gross negligence.

“If it is the last day of the Ash Week, does he mean the Grand Feaute?”