Episode 34
“Kill them all!”
From the moment they dared to try and deceive the eldest son of the Saxon family twice, their chances of survival were nonexistent.
Kill or be killed.
Fortunately, there was a considerable distance between the two sides. Moreover, they held the high ground on a sloped hill, giving them a geographical advantage, and they outnumbered the enemy. Most importantly, his men had surrounded them from all sides.
Clinging to any shred of optimism he could muster, Baron Parker shouted.
“Just a few of them, that’s all.”
Even if they wielded aura blades, their opponents were armed with nothing more than a single sword. No armor, no shields, and no warhorses for cavalry charges.
In contrast, his side was equipped with fully armored knights and archers in battle formation.
This was a fight they could win. A fight they would win.
“We can win! This is our fight to win!”
Baron Parker shouted, fueled by a desperate optimism that was almost tear-inducing.
“Archers, ready!”
From the hill, the baron’s men drew their bows in unison.
“Fools.”
Watching this, a knight standing beside Dale muttered coldly.
Sir Veil of Baskerville.
A high-ranking knight who had supported the Black Prince in that battle, breaking the left flank of Baron Parker’s forces. A loyal hound sworn to the young Saxon heir.
“Give the order, Prince Dale.”
At Sir Veil’s request, Dale spoke.
“We have already shown them mercy once.”
Ignoring the arrows aimed at them from all directions.
“Any further mercy would be meaningless.”
His voice devoid of any emotion.
“Kill them all.”
“At your command.”
As Dale spoke, a volley of arrows rained down, and the five ‘Aura Knights’ bowed their heads in obedience to their lord’s command.
Whoosh!
As they bowed, a whirlwind of sword energy erupted.
A shield of blades that intercepted the incoming arrows. In the face of the swirling sword wind, the arrows were rendered meaningless.
And as the volley ended, the Night Raven Knights were already charging forward.
They scattered in all directions, rushing toward the bandits surrounding them.
The tales of a Sword Master defeating countless foes single-handedly might be considered fanciful ‘knight literature’ even in this world. Yet, it wasn’t unusual for a skilled knight to slaughter dozens of soldiers.
The black swords swung, and screams filled the air.
“Aaah, my arm! My arm!”
“P-please, spare me… Aaah!”
Before the plea could be finished, a fountain of blood erupted from a severed neck. With each swing of the blade, limbs were severed, and entrails spilled from torn abdomens.
“P-Prince! Please, have mercy!”
Baron Parker, having lost his will to fight, collapsed to the ground, begging.
“I-I’ll give you everything I have! I swear eternal loyalty! Please, please spare me!”
He pleaded desperately.
“Grant me the mercy of the Sister Goddesses!”
The mercy of the Sister Goddesses. Dale did not respond. He simply looked at him with emotionless eyes, while screams continued to echo all around.
Some cried out in pain, while others laughed in terror.
Turning his back on them, the ‘Black Prince’ tilted his head.
“Why should I?”
A few days later.
Having left Baron Parker’s territory, they arrived at the ‘next domain’ in the central empire.
“Stop right there, you scoundrels!”
Another band of bandits appeared before Dale and his knights, who were disguised as travelers.
“Who dares to pass through Baron Grandel’s land without permission?”
A robber baron who preyed on those passing through his domain. After all, even banditry requires power.
‘Damn it.’
Dale cursed inwardly as he looked at the bandits threatening them with confidence.
Since they were hiding their identities, they were easy targets, but revealing themselves wasn’t an option either. Resigned, Dale asked.
“Would you consider stepping aside peacefully?”
“Haha, you have quite the sense of humor!”
“Indeed, boss!”
“Maybe he’s already wet his pants!”
Baron Grandel, the armored robber baron, laughed with his men. Dale laughed along with them, his knights from the Saxon family waiting silently for his command.
After sharing a laugh, Dale spoke.
“Funny, isn’t it?”
Weeks passed as they traced the tributaries flowing from the central continent back to the North Sea.
They passed through the domains of several robber barons and bandit knights, each time leaving a trail of irreversible bloodshed.
Afterward, they traveled through the free city of Amber, taking the ‘Amber Road’ across the continent.
Heading toward the land of the goddess, the Sistine Papal States.
A noble heir with power and status, walking humbly on foot, concealing his identity. This was the courtesy the ‘Black Prince’ intended to show the church through his pilgrimage, a penance for the day the Saxon family’s swords slaughtered the goddess’s knights.
And as long as they showed sincerity, the church would have no choice but to respond in kind.
Sistine Papal States, the Holy City of Pucelle.
In a chamber of the Apostolic Palace, in front of St. Magdalene Square.
“Cardinal Nikolai.”
One of the twelve clergy at the pinnacle of the Church of the Goddess, a white mage who had reached the sixth circle.
A fitting counterpart for the ‘Black Prince’ who had come to the land of the goddess on foot. That was Nikolai Machia, elder of the White Tower and cardinal.
“I heard much blood was shed in that battle, young prince.”
Dale of Saxon. The son and heir of the Black Duke, master of the Black Tower, who held an irreparable grudge against the White Tower.
Nikolai was well aware of the ‘Black Prince’s’ reputation as the empire’s most brilliant prodigy, and the infamy and cruelty associated with that name.
“The brothers of St. Magdalene were paragons of faith, and their sacrifice is truly regrettable.”
“My excessive competence led to unnecessary sacrifices.”
‘I was too good at killing.’
”…”
An opponent with the worst possible compatibility with the church.
“I too find the outcome of the Black and White War deeply regrettable.”
Yet here was that very opponent, bowing respectfully before him.
A noble heir from the northern lands, known as a barren place for the Church of the Goddess, and one of the highest-ranking nobles in the empire.
‘Could he really be enduring this ordeal for the sake of atonement?’
Nikolai wondered.
No matter how brilliant his talent, he was still an eleven-year-old child. The horrors of the battlefield might have instilled a sense of guilt in him.
Just as young noble heirs sometimes sought refuge in the embrace of the goddess to escape the trauma of battle.
‘In that case, it’s a fortunate turn of events.’
Guilt, or a sense of debt to the divine, is a powerful force in religion.
“Indeed, I am concerned about your cruelty, young prince.”
With that, Cardinal Nikolai continued with a kindly smile.
“But the mercy of the goddess is open to all, young prince.”
”…”
“There is no sin in this world that cannot be washed away.”
It can be washed away. It can be forgiven. As Cardinal Nikolai was about to continue his sweet whispers.
“Did you say there is no sin in this world that cannot be washed away?”
“Indeed, that is so.”
Nikolai nodded, and Dale spoke.
“──So, did you sell the land of the goddess to the empire?”
Sold the land. For a moment, Cardinal Nikolai’s face turned pale.
“When the previous pope, who opposed the treaty of annexation with the empire, was assassinated…”
Dale continued, undeterred. Speaking of a truth known to only a handful in the entire empire.
“You were there too, Your Eminence.”
Just before the forced annexation treaty between the empire and the papal state was signed. The previous pope, king of the papal state and master of the White Tower, expressed his resistance until the end. As a result, he was eliminated by the empire’s hound, the hero from another world.
Based on the betrayal of twelve cardinals, including Nikolai.
“Did the goddess forgive Your Eminence’s sin of selling out your own country?”
“H-how do you know about that day…?”
The sixth-circle white mage, realizing the situation, couldn’t hide his agitation and unleashed his pure white magic. Yet, in the face of the swirling magic of light, Dale’s expression remained calm.
Unconcerned by the absence of the Saxon family’s knights by his side.
“Do you think killing a mere representative of the Duke would serve as a meaningful cover-up?”
It was a lie.
The Duke of Saxon had no idea about what was happening here. But there was no way Cardinal Nikolai could know that truth.
As evidence, the swirling magic of light dissipated after a few futile rotations.
‘Is that truly the appearance of an eleven-year-old child?’
I couldn’t believe my eyes.
The reputation of the Black Prince, which people spoke of in hushed tones, was something that far surpassed my wildest imagination.
Even titles like the Empire’s greatest genius or the prodigy of the ducal family seemed laughably inadequate.
“What is it that you desire?”
“The Duke has not come to pry into the church’s secrets.”
Cardinal Nikolai hesitated before speaking, and Dale responded, acting solely as the representative of Duke Saxon’s will.
“On the contrary, we are here to pledge our silence about that day’s events.”
He cloaked his actions in the guise of the Black Prince’s intentions.
“What the Saxon family desires is a very modest price for our silence.”
The price of silence. Nothing in this world comes for free.
“There’s a secret archive beneath the Apostolic Palace, where the church’s forbidden books are kept, isn’t there?”
”…!”
At Dale’s words, Cardinal Nikolai’s expression turned to one of shock once more.
A place so forbidden that only a select few within the church were even aware of its existence.
“Surely not…!”
“Allow me access to the ‘Library of Hell.’”
The Library of Hell. It was the nickname for the lowest level beneath the Apostolic Palace, where the church stored the confiscated ‘forbidden magical texts.’
The Book of the Black Goat.
A tome penned by an ancestor of the Saxon family, said to be the most dreadful magical book in existence, lay dormant there.