Hell Mode: Volume 5, page 25
Baron Granvelle had used the mining rights to a new mithril mine Allen discovered to motivate the royal family and numerous nobles in the court to investigate the kidnapping incident, identify all involved parties, and establish safeguards so that it would never happen again.
Viscount Carnel, the one held responsible for the kidnapping, had been the type who threw his weight around using money—the Carnel family had grown rich thanks to the mithril mines in their realm—and therefore had earned a bad reputation. Many disgruntled nobles were more than happy to aid Baron Granvelle’s cause, not least of whom were those in tight financial states from royal decrees to send supplies and manpower to aid the war effort against the Demon Lord. As a result, voices condemning Viscount Carnel went up all around the royal palace, their numbers increasing by the day. The viscount was eventually summoned to court for a hearing, but he ignored it and cooped himself up in his mansion instead.
The current state of affairs greatly saddened the king, who wished the situation had been taken care of when it was but a spark or that the baron had come to consult him in person. That way, things would not have snowballed into such a huge commotion.
From his position at the king’s bedside, the prime minister counseled the monarch. “Your Majesty, this is an opportunity to demonstrate the royal family’s power. What Viscount Carnel did was unforgivable; if we do not punish him severely, it will set a bad precedent for the other nobles.”
“You have a point,” the king said slowly. “Hmm, but ‘severely’...”
“Our investigations have revealed that the viscount had invested a significant amount of money in the crown prince. If you do not act, it may well cost you your dignity.”
When the prime minister mentioned the crown prince, a dejected look came over the king’s face. As he was old now and rarely sat on the throne, his influence was understandably weakening. He was not sure he even had enough power to keep the crown prince, whom everyone expected to be the next king, in check.
The crown prince was being held up as the figurehead of the Kingdom Faction, which prioritized Ratash above the Five Continent Alliance. And currently, nobles seemed to be leaning more and more toward this side. In light of this, as well as the fact that Viscount Carnel had been a significant financial backer of the crown prince, how the king chose to deal with the viscount could very well dictate the kingdom’s future.
The king fell into thought. Before he could say anything, however, there was a knock at his door.
“Announcing Sword Lord Dverg and Captain Reinbach of the Royal Guard!” called one of the guards outside.
“Let them in,” the prime minister replied.
The Sword Lord and royal guard captain came in and took their seats on either side of Baron Granvelle, which induced a drop of sweat that trickled down the baron’s temple. Dverg was a champion who had fought the Demon Lord Army for decades when many soldiers died their first year; Captain Reinbach was the highest authority of the knights who personally served the king. Baron Granvelle was painfully aware that he was now literally sandwiched between Ratash’s top two fighters.
“Thank you for coming, Dverg,” the king said.
“I only happened to be in the castle,” Dverg replied as he closed his remaining eye, implying that he would not have answered the summons had he been on the battlefield. One might not guess it by how he spoke, but the lowborn warrior’s current attitude inside the castle was actually a significant improvement over the years.
“Is that so.” The king was already plenty familiar with Dverg and therefore did not take issue with his attitude.
“I also wanted to offer Your Majesty my wholehearted thanks for recommending me for Hero Helmios’s party.”
“Ah yes, I did do that. The Demon Lord is an existence that threatens the entire world. Our country naturally ought to do its part and support the Five Continent Alliance.”
Hero Helmios and his party of around ten served in the fight against the Demon Lord as a strike force that infiltrated deep behind enemy lines to kill the demons and greater demons that served as commanders and officers. As a result, they faced much greater danger than those manning the fortresses. Even those with three-star Talents such as Sword Lord and Saintess could easily die during a mission. However, this strike force was indispensable to the Five Continent Alliance’s strategy. Consequently, replacements were enlisted from not only Giamut but also other signatory countries whenever a member died.
Even though Dverg was nearly seventy years old, the king of Ratash had officially recommended him for Helmios’s party, Sacred, a while ago.
“Dverg, I asked for you today because I have something to ask of you,” the king said with a troubled face. “We have a problem here at home—”
“I’m very sorry, but I don’t have time.” Without even hearing the king out, Dverg bluntly turned him down.
Alarm flashed across the prime minister’s face for a brief moment. In recognition of Dverg’s achievements, he had been made a noble long ago and gradually promoted all the way to his current status of marquess; however, he was still spending all his days fighting the Demon Lord Army and had not once carried out any of his noble duties. Of course, he had a reason for so stubbornly dedicating his entire life to the cause.
“You’re still looking?” the king asked in an understanding tone.
Dverg touched the eye patch he was wearing and nodded. “Yes.”
“I see. Very well. In that case, Reinbach.”
The captain, who had been waiting, promptly answered, “Yes, Your Majesty!”
“Can you do it?”
Baron Granvelle shivered a little. Both the king and Reinbach had expected Dverg to decline; that was why the latter had come. Baron Granvelle was keenly feeling the weight of the commotion he had set off.
“I am the shield of the kingdom. I shall bring you Carnel’s head on a silver platter.”
In sharp contrast to Dverg, Captain Reinbach of the royal knights was fiercely loyal to the crown. His reply was so ardent that Baron Granvelle unconsciously raised his head.
“Y-Your Majesty?!” the baron exclaimed.
The prime minister glared at him. “Silence. We are beyond the point of no return. Carnel ought to be well aware of just how severe the sin of taking His Majesty’s name in vain is.”
The baron lowered his head back down, quivering.
“Granvelle,” the king said in a heavy voice, “know this: so long as I draw breath, I will never forgive such a travesty.”
“O-Of course, Your Majesty,” the baron replied before imagining what the king would say next. His prediction proved correct.
“I, Izunowad von Ratash the Third, find Viscount Carnel guilty of the crime of treason for the matter at hand. Reinbach, I order you to take him into custody.”
“At once, Your Majesty!”
After giving a spirited reply, Reinbach approached one of the knights who had been guarding the king’s bedchamber from the inside. The knight barked, “Regiment One of the Royal Guards is ready to move out any time!”
“Mm. Then Regiment One is to gather at the landing pad posthaste. I will follow soon.”
The knight nodded, then swiftly left the room.
“Your Majesty, please await my return. With a high-speed magic ship, I should be back by tomorrow afternoon.” Reinbach bowed to the king, then headed for the door.
Before he stepped out, however, the king stopped him. The wrinkles on his head furrowed even deeper as he forced out the words, “I’m sorry, Reinbach, but bring Carnel to me alive. In spite of it all, he has weathered these trying times with us and played a part in forging our nation’s future.”
The mithril from Carnel’s realm had been in demand by not just Ratash but the entire Five Continent Alliance, thus serving as a steady method for Ratash to earn foreign income. It was not an exaggeration to say that Carnel’s mithril had been a linchpin in maintaining the kingdom’s stability. Though what the viscount had done was unforgivable, the king still wanted to show him some clemency—whatever he could do, that was, for someone who was to be purged for treason.
＊ ＊ ＊
Viscount Carnel faced his butler in a dark room with curtains fully drawn on the top floor of his mansion.
“My lord, perhaps you really should consider heading to the royal palace...” The butler was once again voicing advice that he had given many times by now.
“Fool! What would be the point after all this time?!” Viscount Carnel shouted before peering outside through the gap between the curtains.
Several rolls of parchment lay at Carnel’s feet, all of them bearing the royal seal. These were summons from the royal court.
Viscount Carnel had conspired with a royal envoy to use the king’s name to trick Baron Granvelle into signing a contract. It did not take a genius to realize that, now that his entire plot was exposed, he was in for an extremely heavy sentence. Continuously ignoring royal summons was not helping matters either. Just the thought of the accumulative weight of his sins made him tremble in terror.
That said, there was a reason he was staying put inside his realm. This reason came in the form of a letter that he had clutched in his hands.
His butler tried to reason with him. “However, my lo—”
“Enough! His Highness the crown prince said that he would bail me out when the time comes!”
The letter in his hands had been delivered by someone who identified themselves as an envoy from the crown prince. The only thing written was “Stay at home.” This gave the viscount hope, hope that he could not get go of—the crown prince had not abandoned him. So long as he continued ignoring the royal summons, he would be saved.
Knock, knock.
The knocks at the door sounded unnaturally loud in this room shrouded almost purely in shadow. The viscount whirled around to face the door.
“Wh-What is it?!”
The door opened, and a servant practically tumbled inside.
“I’m very sorry, my lord. An unscheduled magic ship is heading for the city! It will be arriving soon!”
“Wha—?! Are you sure?!”
The servant held out a tubelike object. “Please use this, my lord.”
It was a magic tool that functioned like a spyglass. The viscount snatched it from the servant and stuck it through a small gap in the curtains where a bit of the setting sun was still shining through. When he looked to the sky, he confirmed there was indeed a giant magic ship heading for the city. A certain something on the side of the ship made him unconsciously pull back.
“That crest, it’s the royal f-f-family’s...”
Indeed, the magic ship was bearing the royal crest of the Kingdom of Ratash.
Comprehension dawned in the butler’s eyes. “C-Could it be that everything is over?” he asked. After all, the number of people who could dispatch a royal magic ship was extremely limited.
“Wh-What are you implying? His Highness the crown prince will—” Viscount Carnel’s voice trailed off. He could not bring himself to continue.
As long as he kept believing, things would work out.
As long as he kept believing, it was true.
Even though the viscount knew he was merely deluding himself, he had no choice but to believe in the lie he was given. If he finished his thought out loud, he felt he would be forced to face reality. Why did the crown prince not write his name on this letter? Am I being used to buy time so he can erase all evidence implicating himself? All the bad thoughts that the viscount had been suppressing so far flooded his head as he looked at the magic ship through the spyglass again, his eyes now begging to spot some salvation.
The ship eventually hovered right over the open plaza in the center of Carnel City. After the ship adjusted its positioning, its lower hatch slowly opened.
The moment his servant asked, “What is happening, my lord?” the viscount witnessed numerous figures appearing in the open hatch. The setting sun reflected off their suits of armor, identifying them as knights.
“What is th— He’s coming down?!”
CRAAAAASH.
One knight holding a shield nearly as tall as himself had jumped out of the magic ship and plummeted more than a hundred meters, all while wearing armor that weighed over a hundred kilograms. He landed on a water feature in the middle of the plaza and pulverized it with a resounding boom. Water burst out in a stream that soared higher than all the surrounding buildings. The people who happened to be in the plaza froze with shock for a moment, then ran away in a panic. The other knights in the magic ship looked down at the now empty plaza, then also jumped down one by one.
CRAAAAASH.
CRAAAAASH.
CRAAAAASH.
By the time the full regiment of one thousand knights had landed, every last stone in the plaza’s pavement had been shattered. These knights were all members of the royal guard, an elite chivalric order with strict requirements. Knights could only apply to join the royal guard if they had at least a two-star Talent and after serving at a fortress on the Giamutan front for ten years minimum. In other words, everyone present was at least as strong as Captain Zenof.
The knight with a large shield—Captain Reinbach—shouted to his men, “Remember that we, the greatest knight order in the Kingdom of Ratash, are here to exercise His Majesty’s royal authority! Knights of the royal guard, go and seize Viscount Carnel for his crimes of treason against the crown!”
The rest of the knights shouted through their helmets, “SIR, YES, SIR!” and began marching down the streets.
Viscount Carnel, having watched everything unfold through his spyglass, screamed at his servant, “HURRY! Tell them to shut the gates! NOW!”
The man rushed out in a hurry. Soon, the viscount’s knights closed the mansion’s solid iron gates and bolted them shut. After watching them secure everything from his window, the viscount heaved a sigh of relief that they had managed before the royal guard’s arrival. He then began racking his brains for what to do next.
Unfortunately, time was not a luxury that he had.
BOOOOOOM!
A dozen or so royal guards charged through the viscount’s mansion’s gates, blowing them away, bolt and all. Carnel threw open his window and shrieked at his own knights deployed in the yard.
“What are you doing?! Don’t think, just shoot them!”
“H-However, my lord...”
“SHOOT THEM NOW!!!”
Unable to disobey a direct order, Carnel’s knights loosed their bows at the dozens of royal guards closing in on them.
Clink. Clink. Clink.
All of their arrows bounced harmlessly off their opponents’ armor despite the fact that they were using mithril arrowheads. The royal guards ambled into the compound as if they were on a leisurely stroll.
One of the viscount’s knights pointed up at the window to the viscount’s room. “He’s in there, sir.”
“Mm.” Captain Reinbach looked up and nodded to confirm. He then coolly proceeded through the gap in the viscount’s knights’ formation that his subordinates had opened up.
“W-We should escape, my lord,” the butler urged.
“Huh? O-Oh, right.” Viscount Carnel came back to his senses and stepped back from the window. He was about to leave the room when several figures appeared in the doorway, blocking his way.
“We kindly ask that you remain here.”
“What?! When did you—?!”
These turned out to be scouts belonging to the royal guards who had infiltrated the mansion through some other way. The viscount was unconsciously backing away when the window behind him smashed open. The royal knights somehow began pouring in, despite this being the fifth floor.
“Viscount Carnel, you are under arrest for treason. Come with us without resisting, and we will not hurt you.”
Left with no choice but to surrender, the viscount raised both hands and knelt on the ground.
“Hm, looks like we’ll be able to wrap everything up before sunset,” Captain Reinbach murmured as he came into the room, walking past the viscount being hauled off and looking through the now-drafty window at the painted sky.
At last, Viscount Carnel was apprehended, and the House Granvelle Affair finally came to an end.
Side Story 2: Rosetta the Phantom Thief
Among the members of Hero Helmios’s party was a woman with the Phantom Thief Talent, Rosetta. This is the story of how she and Helmios met.
Long ago, Rosetta had been the leader of Rosetta’s Ring, a close-knit crew of around ten burglars who went around stealing from nobles and major merchants.
On this particular night, they had once again infiltrated a noble’s mansion and were stripping it of anything valuable they came across.
“Rosetta, we got everything in the magic bag!”
A young man named Abel called out to his leader with a voice full of satisfaction as he tightened the neck of the bag in his hand. This bag was a magic tool with a storage capacity hundreds of times larger than normal bags its size that could hold anything able to fit through its mouth.
Rosetta nodded. “Got it. All right, everyone, we’re outta here!”
“Roger!”
With that, the gang left the treasure room and made their way down a hallway that was lined with carpet so expensive a commoner could work their whole life without ever seeing anything comparable, much less walking on one. They then went through a section adjoining a garden, making their way to the back door they had infiltrated from, when a portly man wearing sleepwear suddenly appeared around the corner. The man, who was none other than the owner of the house on his way back from the toilet, rubbed his bleary eyes and peered at Rosetta’s group.
“Huh? Who’re you—” His eyes widened with realization, then he shouted, “R-Robbers! Men, we’re being robbed!”
“Shit! Through the windows!” Rosetta shouted.
CRAAASH!
Rosetta’s Ring smashed the windows and leaped down into the mansion’s garden. They made a mad dash for the mansion gates in the dark of night, their feet flying over the manicured lawn as the shouts of servants went up throughout the compound. An alarm sounded, and magic tools came to life in the windows, illuminating the garden.
