Chapter 148

By then, the front rank of musketmen opened fire on those who had already charged to within barely twenty paces. The first rank fired and immediately withdrew, then the second rank fired in turn. However, by the time the first rank finished reloading and returned to formation, the enemy was already right in front of them.

One drawback of black powder was the thick smoke it produced; after only a few volleys, it became impossible to see ahead. That was why the standard dictated firing once and then changing position before attacking again. But in a situation like this, where they had to hold their ground no matter what, that was not an option.

Survivors burst out of the fog-like cloud of smoke. The musketmen, veterans of war, fortunately did not panic and met them with practiced movements, fighting back with bayonets fixed to their muskets. The acrid stench of gunpowder burned the air, making noses sting. In the dense smoke, where it was impossible to tell friend from foe, screams and the sounds of brutal slaughter tangled together savagely.

The front line had already collapsed, enemies and allies hopelessly entangled. It was no longer possible to support them with gunfire. Fearing that the encirclement might be breached, Viscount Dériche hurriedly called in the formations on both flanks.

Unfortunately, his precaution came one step too late. Just as he had feared, someone broke through even that hellish chaos. Through repeated strokes of ill luck and a sliver of blind fortune, a man had survived the murderous hail of bullets and, before anyone could stop him, leapt onto the dais and reached Ebroin V face to face.

By sheer luck, he was barely wounded at all, and to make matters worse, he had obtained a perfect opportunity to strike at the Emperor’s neck. He sprang forward and savagely swung the cutlass in his hand.

All I need is the Emperor’s death.

He clenched his teeth as the thought flashed through his mind. If only this monstrous Emperor’s head fell, half the mission would be accomplished.

[Die!!!]

Neither fast nor slow, Ebroin V drew the rapier that everyone had assumed was merely ceremonial and caught the blade. It was only a single exchange, yet the skill with which he deftly redirected the force of the frontal attack and blocked it without leaving an opening was far from ordinary.

But the Emperor had not masteredAustrassiemerely to be satisfied with defense. With a motion much like the one he used when drawing a main-gauche, he pulled a pistole from the opposite side of his waist and, without any preparatory movement, fired straight into his opponent’s heart.

Bang!!

The last Nightwing convulsed reflexively as the shot punched clean through his chest. His black eyes flew wide open, as though startled; they were so dilated that nearly half the iris looked like pupil. Even so, Ebroin V showed not the slightest mercy. The Emperor looked straight into his eyes and pulled the trigger a second time without hesitation.

Bang!

The bullet struck squarely into the center of the man’s forehead. There was no time to react. Everything ended in an instant. His skull burst open, and he fell from the dais below like a mere slab of meat. The Emperor wiped the blood that had splashed onto his cheek with the back of his hand and silently looked down at the sight.

Viscount Dériche, who had rushed over in alarm, hurriedly asked as he checked the Emperor’s condition.

“Are you unharmed, Your Majesty?”

“There is no cause for concern.”

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The fusiliers had suffered casualties as well, but not a single Nightwing remained alive. Or rather, even if any still clung to life, it would not be for long. The Emperor’s soldiers were moving methodically among the bodies, delivering finishing blows to any wounded who still breathed. Having been informed from the outset that this was to be an annihilation, they carried out their duty thoroughly.

Foreign spies, after all. To them, they were nothing more than enemy combatants.

What was more, these men had joined hands with traitors and attempted to instigate a civil war. The Emperor watched his loyal soldiers in silence, then turned his gaze toward the balconies. The fact that an attempt at rebellion had been made against a hardline Emperor like Ebroin V struck the assembled nobles of the empire with profound shock.

But compared to the brutally violent battle that followed, all of that amounted to nothing. Most of the nobles were unable to hide their shock at the horrific slaughter they had been forced to witness firsthand.

Some of the more faint-hearted noblewomen retched or burst into tears, and many women actually lost consciousness. The noblemen were no less pale and shaken, looking as though they might vomit at any moment, though the setting forced them to endure it.

Ebroin V studied each of their faces carefully. They had always been wary of him, but now they seemed not merely afraid, but nearly terrified. It was bitter, yet unavoidable. If one did not cut things down decisively when the first signs appeared, people would begin to harbor other thoughts. Such possibilities required an example.

There was a saying that a ruler must lead the people by becoming either an object of respect or an object of fear. Fear was not a tool he favored, but it was one he was prepared to bear when necessary. They had enjoyed an excellent view from the highest seats; now they would have to pay its price. With a weary face carrying a dry, hardened look, Ebroin V began walking toward the nobles.

Suddenly, he found himself wanting to see Eugène.

***

During the time he had been kept here, aside from the Duke he had met on the first day, the only person Eugène had been able to see was an old man who brought his meals morning and evening. There was a high chance the man was mute and deaf, and if not, then he was someone who had been thoroughly trained to imitate one.

If not that, then he might simply be someone with something wrong in the head.

The man gave so little indication of intent that Eugène could not help but harbor such suspicions. Though he met him twice a day on a regular basis, Eugène had never once heard his voice. He did not even know his name.

“…I suppose I will never know, then.”

“Hm? What did you say?”

“No, it is nothing.”

Eugène quietly looked down at the middle-aged man who had brought him his meal, only to be attacked by Hunter as he was leaving the room and die on the spot. Whether he had been unable to scream or had chosen not to, Eugène never heard his voice even at the very end. It was not that he regretted that, but the thought that an innocent man who knew nothing might have been harmed weighed on his mind.

“Why did you come so late? At this hour, the procession should already have begun.”

Since he could not know the man’s true identity, it was all conjecture anyway. Shaking his head once to cast aside the lingering thoughts, Eugène held out the wrist that was cuffed for Hunter. As if prepared in advance, Hunter quickly unlocked it, setting him free.

“Do you think I wanted to come at this hour? I even received extra manpower so I could complete the mission safely on orders from a certain distinguished individual. It would have been far more advantageous in every way to finish quickly and wash my hands of it early.”

“Then why not?”

Hunter scowled sharply at Eugène’s simple question and tossed over the backpack he was holding. Eugène caught the bag as it flew at his chest and looked at him in puzzlement.

“That very same distinguished individual I mentioned earlier told me not to get you hurt unnecessarily, and to stall for time and only bring you in when things were just about finished. You must be well loved, hm?”

He was not someone whose spirit bent easily before just anyone, yet before Ebroin V, he found himself utterly unable to assert himself. Though he was not even a subordinate, he had been summoned at every turn, made to do whatever was asked, and sent wherever he was told. Hunter’s irritation twisted into a knot, and he made no effort to hide his displeasure.

Surely he would not have gone that far.With a grim expression, as if wondering what nonsense this man was making up again, Eugène looked at Hunter. Then, when Hunter boldly met his gaze, looking up as though he had not a single thing to be ashamed of, Eugène’s expression subtly darkened.

“…What is the situation outside?”

Eugène, uncharacteristically, changed the subject and began rummaging through the backpack. He did not merely seem awkward, but rather genuinely flustered, though he showed no desire to make it obvious.

Oh? Well, look at that. This fellow is rather obviously in love?Hunter’s curiosity was piqued by Eugène’s unexpected reaction, but he kept his mouth shut. He had no desire to experience being strangled by those thick arms ever again. In the past, even if he had been grabbed by the collar, he would have let it slide without much thought. But after witnessing with his own eyes what those hands were capable of, that was no longer an option.

“If we start with the cathedral, your information was accurate. The gunpowder was smuggled in, hidden inside the barrels of sacramental wine, and it seems the Nightwing spy on duty there concealed the situation. Can you believe it? That Rodom woman even planted spies among the clergy.”

Eugène listened carefully as the Hunter spoke and opened the backpack. Whoever had prepared it, nearly everything he currently needed was inside. He stripped out of the clothes he had been unable to change for a long time and put on fresh ones. Though they were not originally his, the fact that they fit him perfectly suggested they had been newly tailored to his measurements.

“The imperial household is closely tied to the religious order, so it does make sense. It would have been easier to place someone within the order than to plant them in the court.”

“According to what Anti-Chevalier uncovered, those bastards were also the ones planning the decisive move. There were records of them purchasing large amounts of oil and flint. With the post of cellar overseer, they could go in and out of the basement at will, which made them a perfect fit.”

“Then is His Majesty personally at the cathedral right now?”

“Most likely. Since it is a case involving a member of the imperial family being tied to treason, it would be strange not to handle it directly.”

“And the Grands, including the imperial children?”

Given His Majesty’s disposition, it seemed unlikely that they would be kept in such a perilous cathedral, but considering Louise’s case, the court could not be considered entirely safe either. Eugène knew all too well what the Eastern nobility faction desired, and the safety of those individuals weighed quietly on his mind.

“They would obviously be targets. His Majesty could not have ignored that. I hear they stayed safely at an estate all day.”

“At the estate?”

Eugène thought of a likely location but did not speak it aloud. If they were indeed safe, that was a relief. Worrying that those still so young might witness anything untoward had weighed on him, and the answer allowed him to finally ease that concern.

Hunter went on to relay other developments. Cardinal Giorante would ultimately be dismissed, and Madame Schuabel, who had ruined him like a siren, was not likely to endure much longer. Arrest warrants for her and her associates had already been issued, so securing their safety was just a matter of time.

The Eastern nobility faction, led by House d’Estuaire, faced the same fate. The plan Eugène had extracted from them provided decisive evidence, and the proof was solid. This time, they would surely pay for their crimes.

Eugène, having finished preparing himself, listened to Hunter while gathering his final weapons. At the bottom of his backpack lay two daggers in their sheaths and the repeating pistol he had deliberately left behind on the morning he departed the palace, worried he might lose it.

A rare repeating pistol, which he had carried but never intended to use casually, was clearly packed with intent. Whoever had packed this bag knew exactly what to include.

“Matters aside, there are documents I have kept an eye on. Perfect as evidence, though at the time I could not take them, so I left them behind.”

With the conversation concluded, they were ready to leave. Eugène slung the backpack over his shoulder as if it were his own and urged Hunter to follow him out of the room. Outside, the sentries were familiar Anti-Chevalier operatives.

I will get to see all their faces.Eugène thought. He gave a brief nod of acknowledgment and descended to the lower floor. The house bore the signs of a violent conflict; bloody stains and corpses left unremoved in various spots.

…Huh? But is this all?

Eugène knew the estate reasonably well now, far better than during the first three days. Over the past week, with Gecko’s help, he had scouted the surroundings several more times.