Chapter 85 - 7-11
In the vicinity of the Holy City of Karnain, on the wasteland across the banks of the Shaal River, there is a town where the poor gather. It is the shadow cast by the prosperity and radiance of Karnain City, the ill-favored twin of Karnain: the city of vice, Delacoon.
It is said to be a town built by impoverished people who, captivated by the sanctity of the Holy City, were drawn to it in a trance, only to be driven away to the other side of the river. At first, the sick and those unable to work lived in filthy shacks. Eventually, those without ambition also gathered. It was less a town and more of a cesspool.
And what grew from a seedbed of lethargy and indolence? Violence.
Men who made a living through violence formed gangs, repeated bloody conflicts, and merged and split until they were united under the strongest organization. Those who reigned were a family called the Ronars. This Ronar family eventually became nobility and swore loyalty to the Syllabus family. In this way, Delacoon transformed from a cesspool into a city.
In these riverbank wetlands unsuitable for agriculture, the Ronar family first established large-scale gambling dens. They brought in vast quantities of liquor and gathered women. It would be far too bland for pilgrims who had traveled all the way to Karnain to simply pray and then leave.
The idea was to provide a night of intoxication and excitement, carnal desire and joy, in Delacoon.
This vision hit the mark. Delacoon prospered rapidly, and it is now a pleasure district akin to a sleepless castle. During the day, it is as if it shrinks back in deference to its elder sister, the Holy City of Karnain. But when the sun sets, it becomes a great harlot, decorated with bonfires and made up with red lights, tempting the people.
The magical bewitchment of Delacoon continues throughout the night, only to melt and vanish with the morning sun.
In early spring, around the time the battle in the "Dark Forest" began.
While murder was not uncommon in Delacoon, the corpse revealed by that morning's sunlight was unusual.
From a second-story window, a man who had hanged himself was staring down at the street.
It was the second floor of a brothel. The man who had hanged himself was a warrior named Harkias Riccart.
He was a man dispatched to the south for reconnaissance of the Kosa army by order of Sedias Thora.
Although Riccart had achieved the feat of bringing back detailed notes regarding the Kosa army, he was not highly valued by the Thora family. This was because the report on the Kosa army had been stolen from someone else.
Riccart had likely been sulking over his poor treatment. He had been staying at the brothel for a long period in a state of dissipation. The hanging might have been suicide, or he might have been killed. The prostitute who had been Riccart's partner had disappeared. The young men of the Ronar family did not tolerate those who acted arbitrarily within their turf. They searched for the missing prostitute.
For a time, the movement of people in and out of the town was restricted.
Still, the prostitute was not found. She had vanished like smoke.
On the day Riccart's corpse drew the attention of the citizens, only two women left Delacoon.
Since both were nuns, they were allowed to leave the town after only a simple interrogation.
One was the tall, Black woman, Rivet.
The other was Marvel Boony, the culprit who had disguised herself as a prostitute and killed Riccart.
The pair in their nun's habits headed south along the highway, not exchanging words for a while.
"Marvel," Rivet eventually said. "There is something you want to tell me, isn't there?"
"I wonder," Marvel answered. "That one, Yugis Necrat. Apparently, he's dead. Riccart, while he was holding me, boasted about killing Yugis. What kind of nerves does a man like that have?"
"They say Yugis was the son of a great criminal of this country. If he disposed of him, it is a feat worth boasting about. Is Marvel lacking energy because Yugis died?"
"Maybe."
"Had you come to like Yugis?"
"It's not that. Coming to this country... I understood what he wanted to protect. That man had things he wanted to do. Thinking of that, I just can't bring myself to feel like I'm badmouthing a dead man. That's all."
"Well, I also believe that the living should not draw any conclusions regarding the death of another," Rivet said in her usual quiet tone.
Marvel liked this country, her mother's homeland. It was heartwarming to see the lives of the people arranged orderly within the narrow territory. There were people everywhere. There was the presence of people, the scent of human life. That gave Marvel a feeling of warmth.
However, Marvel could not afford to immerse herself in that warmth.
It was similar to the anxiety one feels when accidentally waking up in the middle of the night.
The anxiety of being the only one with eyes open in the darkness of a time without light. Marvel often felt something similar to that loneliness—the feeling that she was the only one awake in the world—since coming to this country. This was an enemy nation, and everyone around her was an enemy. She could not be entranced by the warmth of her mother's country. This was not home.
Marvel was alone. The Black woman beside her, with a silhouette like a skull, merely observed Marvel's loneliness. Rivet said she was a witness. What did she intend to witness? It must be Marvel's death. Rivet's very existence was a notice of death to Marvel. Marvel Boony was haunted by death.
"So, what will Marvel do now?"
"There's no 'what,' if Yugis is dead, Mozu Wolf shouldn't have any complaints. Even the King of the Tawaru, who wailed with a blade pressed against him, should feel relieved. This time, I'll go to Mozu and have him let me meet the Great King."
"There is something I've wanted to ask for a while, Marvel."
"I'd rather you didn't."
"You are apparently an acquaintance of the Great King of Kosa. What will you do when you meet? Will you blame your parents?"
Naturally, she had that right. Whether she would blame them or not, she didn't know.
Marvel Boony, her baptismal name, thought so when remembering the time she was Kohal.
Geraha should look at Kohal's face and explain about the father and mother.
—The daughter of Sinkuk Wolf.
Since she was the daughter of Sinkuk Wolf, and they had grown up together in the same grasslands. She had watched Geraha all along. While other children only looked at the features of Geraha's face, Kohal had thought about what was inside his frame. She had imagined his soul as if traveling through the wide sky. Kohal prided herself on knowing Geraha.
She would not permit him to treat Kohal as a woman with no relation. She would make him talk. She would make him explain. She would not leave until she was satisfied.
Toward Geraha, who was like the embodiment of the grasslands' grandeur, Kohal had an obsession akin to hatred. She could forgive Geraha becoming a wall standing in her way. That Geraha became a giant mystery that prevented Kohal from moving forward—that was fine.
What troubled Kohal was the past. If she didn't understand Geraha's true feelings, Kohal could not even go back. She could not explain to herself what her life up until now had been. As she was now, Kohal was merely a murderer. Right now, she was stinging people's skin like an ugly insect. Geraha should pick Kohal up with that giant body of his.
The deaths of parents and siblings, the mother's country and the father's country, faith and murder, the grasslands and the people of the grasslands, war and conquest. There were so many things that Kohal felt she was falling apart. Geraha should pick her up and say, Ah, I see, you knew me. Only with that could Kohal find a clue to start over.
—I'll make him say it.
If Kohal pleaded with all her might, Geraha could not escape. She wouldn't let him escape this time. Kohal wanted Geraha Wolf to acknowledge her.
"I just want to work for the Kosa Empire," Marvel said irritably, and Rivet tilted her head.
"Marvel, Mozu Wolf will eventually come to this country. Until then, you should accompany me on my errands."
—I want to go to the convent for girls.
Rivet said.
"What are you going to do?"
"There is a candidate I want to take to the Siddim Order."
"Are you going to lead a promising woman into the valley and raise her to be a killer?"
"I'm relieved to see you understand so well—also, there's one thing I want to ask."
"What is it?"
"Why did you hang Riccart's corpse? Was it as a warning?"
Rivet should know the reason well. Marvel had been seeking information on Yugis. Marvel did not want anyone to know about that. That's why she killed him. She hung him conspicuously because the war with Kosa was about to begin. It was to disrupt the public order and morals in the areas behind Siddim, and to instill anxiety in the people.
"I did it for my homeland."
Rivet looked at Marvel with melancholy in her eyes.
"I hope the Great King is pleased."
At the Euryas Convent for Girls, Rivet did most of the talking.
Marvel greeted the Headmistress, Rene Dagsaw, and remained silent after that. Looking at the wrinkles carved into Headmistress Dagsaw's face, it felt as if wisdom dwelt there, and Marvel felt that if she said the wrong thing, her true identity might be discovered.
Headmistress Dagsaw surely did not know the true role of the Siddim Order.
She read that from the atmosphere of the conversation with Rivet.
"I see. Was Robin Holt elected as the Euryas Representative?"
Rivet spoke with a slight clouding of her expression. It seemed the target girl had become unavailable for recruitment due to some circumstance.
"Robin is an extremely excellent nun," the Headmistress said.
"A nun?" Rivet smiled. "She hasn't taken the vows of a sister yet, has she?"
"Since this convent has suspended all ceremonies in preparation for the war."
"I see. Even if we give up on Robin, the Siddim Order is always seeking passionate personnel as missionary staff for the southern regions. I have received one promising recommendation from Mother Superior Hafner of Delroy."
The name was Aksana Petrova. Once she finished her training here and became a sister, Rivet strongly wanted to suggest her entry into the Siddim Order. Rivet continued.
"Therefore, I would like to speak with this Aksana for a bit."
"I understand. That is a wonderful offer. ...Archie!"
When the Headmistress called, an elderly woman in black clothes opened the door and peeked her face in.
"Tell Chloe or Lucy to bring Moi here."
After stating this, the Headmistress explained to Rivet. "Aksana lives under the common name of Moi."
"Moi, I see. Understood."
"Is Agnes Dagger doing well?" While waiting for Moi, Headmistress Dagsaw asked. "She was also an Euryas Representative, but she went to the Siddim Order, didn't she?"
"It happened to coincide with the retirement of the Order's head," Rivet answered composedly. "Under Agnes-sama's guidance, our society is united as one."
This was a harvest for Marvel. Agnes Dagger must be the green-eyed woman who was called "the lady of the house."
—Though, she likely won't meet that woman again.
Two nuns wearing white habits arrived with tense expressions.
Marvel stood up along with Rivet.
"Then, if we could borrow a room, I will conduct the interview with Moi."
Rivet bowed.
"I shall tour the interior of the convent," Marvel said.
Marvel had the consciousness that she had betrayed the Siddim Order and gone outside. She had no intention of accompanying the interview.
Headmistress Dagsaw nodded to the nun behind Marvel.
Turning around, a woman with a radiant impression was looking at Marvel. She was a refined beauty with well-proportioned features. There was a flamboyant brightness in the atmosphere she emitted.
"I am Sister Lucy. I shall be your guide."
"I'm Marvel. Nice to meet you."
Lucy led Marvel away with an innocent smile.
Though she hadn't intended to, Marvel returned the smile as if lured.
Guided by the nun who called herself Lucy, Marvel saw the chapel, the lecture hall, the library, and other places.
The beautiful nun gave her various explanations regarding the Euryas Convent for Girls. I see, so this is how people acquire faith in such splendid facilities, Marvel thought. It was a far cry from the cave-riddled Cat's Valley where Marvel had learned the doctrines.
"It is splendid. I'm impressed by how cleanly it's swept."
"Those are kind words. Cleaning is not easy, but it was worth the effort."
The way of speaking—a cheerful politeness, one might call it—that came from Lucy's mouth was interesting to Marvel.
"Lucy seems to have been raised well."
Marvel spoke in a deliberately frank manner, partly intending to tease.
"Before the Tenshu, does the quality of one's upbringing not lose its meaning?"
Lucy replied with a refined answer. She did not deny her good upbringing.
"I know there is a way of thinking that the Tenshu never views things one-dimensionally, and sometimes makes a beggar a king, and sometimes makes a prostitute a saint. I cannot agree with that. The Tenshu is, ultimately, a being who judges people. Bad things are bad. Inferior things are inferior. I think the inability to admit that is a weakness."
Marvel spoke as they walked.
The two went outside. The weather was fine.
"However, according to the scriptures, I believe the Tenshu's criteria for judging people are not one-dimensional. It is said that killing a person for justice is good. Killing a person for desire is evil. In other words, good and evil cannot be measured by the mere fact that a person was killed, right?"
"No. No matter the reason, murder is evil."
"Then, is a soldier who killed an enemy in a war to protect the country an evil person?"
Lucy countered. Rather than becoming heated, a spark of curiosity flickered in the depths of her eyes.
"War itself is evil. If the side that started it is evil, then even the side that was attacked without fault is evil. Rather than killing another, it is less of a sin for oneself to die."
Lucy stifled a giggle. "You're teasing me, aren't you?"
Marvel let out a suppressed laugh. "I just wanted to argue a bit."
"You were testing me, weren't you? Did I pass your inspection, Sister Marvel?"
"Just Marvel is fine for me," Marvel said with a serious face. "I suppose... there's something about you that I can't hate—what's that?"
Marvel turned her gaze toward several nuns tilling the grounds of the convent.
"We are making a vegetable garden. In preparation for the war."
"The war with Kosa?"
"That is correct."
"Are you going to hole up in a siege?"
"I hope it doesn't come to that."
Marvel snorted.
"Food is important, but it's not the key. The key to a siege is reinforcements. Secure allies who can drive away the enemy surrounding you. Fields are all well and good, but a system to maintain contact with the outside is the urgent priority."
"—I see."
"If possible, it would be more certain to have knights inside for a siege. But that likely won't happen in a girls' convent. Still, war is not sweet."
The nun, who emitted a dazzling innocence, showed an unreliable expression.
Though she thought it was fine to leave it alone, Marvel couldn't help but interject.
These girls were undoubtedly sincere, good women, but they likely knew nothing of war.
"The enemy Kosa army will drag innocent people who were too slow to escape to the gates of the convent and whip them. To make those of you sieging inside hear the screams. After that, they'll cut off their heads. For a day or two, you'll be forced to hear the voices of innocent children suffering. The enemy who killed children with composure will say things like, 'It's your fault for not opening the gates.' Even then, you must never open the gates. The enemy might torture your father in front of the gates. Your father, in his agony, might plead with you. Or they might rape your mother in a cruel manner and make her a spectacle. Even then, you must not open the gates. Engrave it in your heart that everything outside the gates cannot be saved. Instead, swear that you will definitely save only the people inside the gates. What you must do is first use the tragedy occurring outside to strengthen the unity of those sieging. Prolong the time of the siege for even one day longer. And call for reinforcements as quickly as possible. It's not easy. Even so, internal discipline might collapse. If that happens..."
—Just surrender.
Marvel said nonchalantly.
"What this convent is most abundantly equipped with is the bodies of young women."
It was a ridiculous story, but a fact. It was close to the capital, but there was little benefit to using it as a base. If the enemy attacked this convent, their purpose would be to rape the women to vent their desires, and if they felt like it, massacre everyone to give Siddim a shock.
Lucy had a darkened expression.
The nuns who had been making the vegetable garden also stopped their work and looked this way.
"You should just negotiate by fully understanding what the enemy wants. Do not forget that even if you surrender, there are ways to fight. Rather than having the gates destroyed and enemy soldiers storming in, negotiate first. Reason works on Kosa people. They know that no language other than logic and reason works in the world. It's faster to appeal to reason than to emotion or military force. —No, of course, what I'm saying is for the very end. We have faith, and I hear the knights of this country are fierce warriors who can throw away their lives for faith. Therefore, first you should believe in the strength of your faith and create a system to obtain rescue from your allies."
Lucy approached Marvel with a serious face. She had challenging eyes. Marvel was a woman sensitive to presence. She had been drilled into the habit of not being able to avoid noticing if someone made a suspicious movement. However, at this time, her hand was simply grasped by Lucy. The nun's short blonde hair fluttered in the wind. Does this woman even create wind— while squinting at the swirling dust, Marvel thought something strange for a moment.
"How can our country be saved?"
Thinking it was a question of how to win the war, Marvel shook her head. "No one knows that."
"We also want to do something."
There was little they could do, and no matter what they did, Kosa would likely triumph.
Still, Marvel placed her other hand over Lucy's hand and squeezed back.
"Listen, war is, in the end, about humans. It's about the unity of people. Everyone is waiting for someone's words. People can unite through words. If there is something you can do, it's to speak to many people."
"—Speak to them?"
"With a loud voice and passion."
"What on earth..."
"You believe in Siddim's victory, don't you?"
"Of course, Siddim will be victorious."
Marvel liked the nun's decisive way of speaking.
"Then, tell everyone that."
Marvel released her hand and patted the shoulder of the dazed nun. "Do your best."
"What did you talk about with the princess?"
After leaving the Euryas Convent for Girls, Rivet spoke on the road through the forest.
"Princess? That's a clever nickname."
"She is a real princess, Marvel. I have an interesting story."
From Rivet, Marvel heard the story of the princess of this country, Luchentin Alish.
"When did you investigate such a thing?"
"I didn't specifically investigate it. If you're in the church, you hear various stories. You have a gloomy face, Marvel."
"Not particularly. I just thought it was a strange country."
"You thought you could become friends with that beautiful girl, didn't you?"
"I didn't think such a thing." Marvel glared into the Black woman's large eyes. "Besides, even I can make something like a friend."
"If you truly believe that, you're naive. Marvel is a monster who stared at monsters for too long and became one herself. Friendship with someone is impossible."
"It was you people who made me a monster."
"If you had continued your training to the end, you could have remained a nun. Well, rest easy. I'll be Marvel's friend."
"I'd like to decline that."
Marvel trotted ahead and walked alone.
Then, in less than a month, the situation changed abruptly.
Kosa cavalry invaded through the northern end of the Dwarf Mountains, and battles between the Siddim Royal Army and the Kosa army began around the "Dark Forest." Almost as soon as it began, the Siddim Royal Army collapsed easily. It was a pathetic state of affairs where the commander of the Royal Army, Sedias Thora, died in battle.
—Weak.
Marvel was in Malfa City at the time. Her eyes sparkled every time news reached the royal capital.
If the royal capital had a heart, this city was exactly where the blood was draining away now. Citizens walked with dark faces amidst a suffocating stagnation. The prices of food supplies skyrocketed immediately. Some families began to evacuate.
—Weak. What is this?
Everyone became dull and fell silent. Lucy, whom she met at the Euryas Convent for Girls, had more backbone than this.
Marvel saw the funeral procession of the enemy general Sedias, which was like a state funeral. The citizens seeing it off were crying. The streets were filled with theatrical wailing and sobbing while looking down and trembling. And what happened? Nothing; everyone was just despondent, and that was the end.
I see, Sedias and the like must have been a splendid military commander. But there is such a thing as a way to lose. If Marvel were a citizen of this country, she wouldn't cry, even if she couldn't spit on the coffin. She would be enraged. There is no rage in this country.
—This will surrender with just one more push.
Marvel widened her eyes and watched the limpness of the people.
In the expressions of the citizens, one could see even a detached calmness akin to resignation. It was as if they had known from the start that it would turn out like this.
I knew from the start we would lose.
Is that what they wanted to say?
Marvel also knew that Great King Aframa had once invaded this country. Perhaps they were too trapped by that history. They might have been beaten by Great King Aframa's Kosa army, but wasn't it Siddim that won in the end? Since the Kosa army gave up on conquest and Siddim recovered its territory.
Marvel's mother didn't talk much about her homeland. Still, Marvel had a longing for her mother's homeland. It was somewhat disappointing that it was such a weak country.
—In a country like this, it would be happier to be incorporated into the Kosa Empire.
After determining that, Marvel left Malfa City. Rivet followed silently.
Avoiding the Royal Army blocking the highway to the royal capital, she headed east. At this rate, if she dawdled, she would miss out on the credit. Before the victory or defeat of the war was decided, she wanted to do some assassination or espionage, carry a souvenir, and meet Geraha. First, she had to meet Mozu Wolf.
Not all the people of the royal capital were spineless as Marvel thought.
Gilma Rigardie, who had suddenly regained power, was brimming with fighting spirit.
What Gilma asserted before His Majesty was total resistance. Far from being despondent, Gilma breathed hot air like a dragon from his arrogant aquiline nose as he advocated for the war.
"According to reports, the reserve forces in Ganlord remain entirely intact!"
He struck the table and glared at the faces of the meeting.
Naturally, no objections came up. It was not yet the stage to start talking about surrender.
In war, if you enter peace negotiations in a losing position, you lose; if you enter them in a winning position, you win. One must enter negotiations after forcing the situation into a winning posture, even if it requires excessive effort.
The advocacy for war was for that purpose.
If there was a problem, it was the point that the Kosa people likely wouldn't respond to peace negotiations. Fight until total annihilation, or surrender. The Kosa people apparently didn't recognize any other conclusion.
Of course, Gilma didn't let such a thing show at all during the meeting.
His Majesty's countenance at the meeting was the same as usual. He was listening to Gilma's words calmly.
However, His Majesty King Swad Alish VII had apparently been spending more time in the castle's church since receiving the news of Sedias Thora's death in battle.
Gilma heard this when he had an opportunity to speak with the pregnant Queen Consort Yumeria Alish.
"He does not show me a sunken face, and it would be impudent to guess His Majesty's heart, but probably..."
—He is grieving.
That was likely it.
"It is utterly shameful as a subject. Please, so that His Majesty's heart may not be troubled, from the Queen as well—"
"No, regarding the course of the war, His Majesty trusts you all."
"Then, is it out of mourning for Sedias?" Gilma felt something pierce his chest.
Sedias Thora was a lucky man.
"He was His Majesty's father-in-law, a loyal subject since the previous king, and above all, an irreplaceable friend to His Majesty, I suppose?"
"Sedias Thora was also the maternal grandfather of Crown Prince Yunias," Queen Yumeria added with an indifferent face.
The Thora family, the backing of the Crown Prince, seems likely to fall; is the future of the royal family alright?
That was likely what she wanted to say.
That said, it was obvious that deposing the Crown Prince was impossible in this situation.
"I long for the day His Majesty's anxiety clears. That aside, my father is lonely because he cannot meet the Prime Minister."
"Is that so. Then soon—"
"When exactly?"
Even though the bulge of her stomach was not yet prominent and it wasn't certain the child would be a boy, Queen Yumeria was strangely enthusiastic.
Saying things like when I find time, soon— Gilma had no choice but to escape.
Two weeks after seeing off Sedias Thora's funeral procession, Dico Thora fled to the royal capital in a wretched state.
Gilma, who had been counting on the Royal Army in Ganlord, was so surprised he nearly slid off his chair.
"That Skyner bastard!"
At the meeting, Dico Thora spoke as if spitting.
His real name was Dicrof Thora, a plump man. He didn't give a prosperous impression, but looked like an unhealthily flabby body. His hair and beard were jet black. He was from a branch of the Thora family serving Delroy, and the youngest blood brother of Sedias.
According to the story, he had been hit by a surprise attack from the Skyner family of Belgau. He said Ganlord had been seized. The mastermind was Haider Skyner.
—A clever little fellow.
The violation of discipline during wartime was egregious. If this significant misconduct were permitted, it would set a bad example. However—.
In this situation, there was no choice but to leave it unquestioned. If it was under effective control, it was necessary to have His Majesty recognize the possession.
In the first place, Sedias Thora's eastern policy had been too violent. Now that Sedias was gone, it could be said that the east had returned to how it should be. Furthermore, a clever fellow was better than someone like Dico Thora.
"Ganlord aside, what about the Royal Army?"
"That is fine. Aram Danforth is there as a separate commander."
"Are you not the Governor of the East?" Hilboro of the royal capital's defense force said sternly. "Did you leave the army behind? Is that not irresponsible!"
"—Without knowing the situation in the east..."
"What are you saying? It is His Majesty's army!" Hilboro flared up.
"That's why Aram Danforth—"
"Why can't you understand that Danforth is connected to the east!"
Intending to settle the argument, Gilma spoke. "In any case, let the Governor of the East defend himself in court."
"Hoh. Try it if you can."
When Dico Thora threatened, Hilboro signaled the guards. The two guards protecting the meeting room's door grabbed the flabby Dico Thora by both sides and twisted his arms up. Dico let out a short scream and grimaced as he looked at Hilboro.
"You bastard, just because my elder brother died—"
"Don't get cocky! You left Sedias-sama to die!"
It was quite a commotion. It was fortunate that His Majesty was not present.
After Dico Thora was led away, Gilma spoke.
"We shall need to contact this Haider person, I suppose."
If he told him that he might handle this matter amicably, Haider would likely become meek.
There were signs that the enemy's mobile army had merged with the army in the southeastern part around the Dark Forest.
The enemy was now concentrated in one place.
The Royal Army reserves that Ganlord looked after, and Haider leading the troops of the entire east, would threaten the Kosa army in the southeast. The enemy would lose their escape route. The only open escape route to the west was where Hilboro's army lay in wait. In other words, the enemy would have nowhere to go.
With this posture, they would seal the enemy's movements. The enemy would have no choice but to hole up outside the Twin Forts.
For now, it was decided to bring things to that state.
When night fell, Gilma returned to the room he rented at Malfa Castle. His elderly secretary, Mia, was still awake.
"You have a guest."
Gilma headed to the office as if flying with his long legs.
A candlestick and a liquor bottle were lined up on the reception table. A man with a flat face was sitting in a chair. The man stood up upon seeing Gilma.
"Welcome," Gilma welcomed him.
He had cut off contact with Lian Belghiyo almost as if they had a falling out. The two men, meeting for the first time in a while, sat facing each other with faces as if nothing had happened.
"I thought the Count might be feeling lonely."
It wasn't that Gilma had summoned him; Lian had visited of his own accord.
"You must have missed this nose. I have a good job."
"The east again?"
"Not there this time. The south. Far south."
"Meaning?"
It was Koroi.
—Go and make the south defect.
Gilma said this and gulped down liquor like a rogue. "Currently, the one ruling Koroi is a king of the plains called Kushitante Zamora. Siddim has a very faint connection with him. Long ago, some fool in the east offered him horses and iron ore."
He wanted Lian to meet Kushitante relying on that connection.
Gilma continued.
"Tell him this. The north is prepared for long-term trade with Koroi."
"What? Did you say the north?"
"The Five Northern Nations. I'll bring the north together."
"...Won't iron leak out?"
"What's wrong with that? In exchange, gold will flow in."
"If Koroi's spices come in, gold will just fly away again. Do you intend to exchange sesame seeds for iron?"
"We can discuss the tax rates. Anyway. Let the Kosa people run through the plains and highlands. The north, west, and south will go to sea. They will be connected as one by the sea. We won't let the Kosa people participate in this connection. We'll just profit by ourselves."
"...In exchange?"
"That's right. I want you to stab the Kosa army from behind."
Lian Belghiyo thought deeply while licking his lips. Eventually, he shook his head.
"I shouldn't have come."
"At some point, you said you lived for a great cause."
"That—I did, certainly. Meeting that youngster was the end of my luck. ...In short, the Count intends to win, doesn't he?"
"Naturally. What else is there?"
He did think he wanted to win if it were possible. There was no lie in that. However, Gilma's true heart was leaning toward paving the way for surrender. As long as the survival of the royal family was guaranteed, it was fine to lose. Rather, if they couldn't win, it couldn't be helped, could it? If it was diplomatic negotiation, it was where Gilma could show his skill. He would win through negotiation.
After Lian stepped down to the guest room, Gilma ridiculed himself in solitude.
Even while saying brave things, Gilma Rigardie was no different from the wretched people of the royal capital. He didn't think they could win. It couldn't be helped.
—In the first place, there might be no one anywhere who believes in Siddim's victory.
Except for a few young people, Gilma's lament was likely almost correct.