A Sacrifice for the Greater Good
"In what way?"
Ferda asked her.
"He probably never intended to let you go in the first place, Regent Ferda. But when the emperor's son bowed his head and begged him to spare you, he had no choice but to pretend that he would."
"It seemed as though he intended to release me when the accusation that I was a practitioner of demonic magic arose."
"That was closer to an unforeseen development. But setting that unexpected incident aside, what do you think he was truly aiming for?"
"If so, then his targets were…."
As their conversation continued, Ferda began to grasp the clue himself.
"Alexander and Duke Yurei."
Olivia nodded.
"He probably abandoned any intention of forgiving my fat brother the moment Alexander started talking about mobilizing a legion. Since he could not simply have his head cut off, he manipulated him into flailing around on his own and exposing his ugliest side. My throat is a little dry. May I have some tea?"
"Of course."
Ferda handed her a cup.
After drinking the tea, which had been brewed to a pleasantly warm temperature rather than scalding hot, she continued.
"In any case, Alexander will now have to relinquish his authority temporarily as punishment. But Valdemar did not destroy him completely. He deliberately left him a way back by forcing him to compete with the second prince. But will that competition truly happen?"
"Probably not."
"Exactly. For the next year, the transfer of authority will remain uncertain, and his supporters will begin seeking stability. They will defect."
If Alexander were shaken, those clinging to him would fall away.
And the ones who would absorb those defectors would be a powerful faction that remained unwavering.
Only one name came to mind as the representative of such a force.
Valdemar Golt.
"What do you mean when you say he was targeting Duke Yurei?"
"He was probably thinking ahead to keeping the Heinkel Kingdom in check. He knew you had killed Prince Yurei, but I doubt he ever intended to use that fact merely to bind you."
"But I heard that when he recruited William, he intended to make him testify against me."
"Sir William's betrayal was probably part of the calculation as well."
"Why would one of Alexander's men do such a thing?"
Alexander had wanted to shift responsibility onto Ferda by any means possible.
Olivia elegantly lifted her teacup and gave a faint laugh.
"One of my brother's men? Isn't that amusing?"
"Why would someone capable enough to recruit Sir William attach himself to a man whose downfall was already certain?"
A planted spy.
In that case, it was reasonable to conclude that Valdemar had engineered the entire matter.
"In the end, Duke Yurei was driven into a situation from which there was no escape. Now that Sir Oldin Rooster has obtained a pretext, he will pressure the Heinkel Kingdom and try to force it into submission beneath the Empire. As an added bonus, Valdemar tied a rope around my fat brother's neck and made him kick the ball into his own goal once again, humiliating him in the process."
Olivia let out a low, troubled hum.
"Had it ended there, I would have assumed they had merely exchanged blows. But then…."
"The major incident involving the demonkin worshipper occurred."
"Exactly."
That was the one part no one could have anticipated.
"And for Valdemar, it became an unexpected windfall."
"A windfall?"
"Because the demonkin worshipper happened to be that damned impostor."
The phrase "damned impostor" bothered Ferda.
"You speak as though you already knew Joseph Faust was not the real Joseph Faust."
"I did know. The real Joseph Faust was never the kind of man who would sneak glances at my chest from the very beginning. I suspected that someone was impersonating him."
Olivia added an explanation before a misunderstanding could arise.
"But I did not know he was a demonkin. Had I known that, I would never have stood by and allowed it to continue."
Ferda chose to believe her.
The Grand Council had been the first time he himself had encountered a Doppel, and their existence had remained a deeply concealed secret until now.
"In any case, the integrity and credibility of the Church of Alte are now being called into question. The ones who will suffer the greatest blow are the newly elevated noble factions."
The nobility was divided between the traditionalists and the newly elevated nobles, maintaining a balance of sorts.
For traditional nobles, recognition was comparatively easy. As long as they proved themselves worthy of their family's reputation, their status was accepted.
The newly elevated nobles were different.
They had risen into the aristocracy after earning great merit for the Empire. Because they were moving closer to the ruling class, they had to pass far more stringent conditions.
"One of those conditions is the Token of Faith bestowed by the Church of Alte."
It was a procedure in which they swore the predictable oath to resist demonic temptation and follow the light.
But what would happen once it became known that the bishop granting those tokens had been a follower of demonkin more vicious than any demon?
The very face of the Church had destroyed its authority.
At the same time, it had provided grounds to suspect everyone beneath that authority.
"The Church of Alte's token will no longer be enough to prove anything. A new system will be created."
"What kind of system?"
"Judging from the circumstances, it appears the traditional nobles intend to become the ones who verify the status of the newly elevated nobles."
Existing nobles would authenticate the new nobles.
To prove themselves, the newcomers would be forced to flatter them, and the more authority the sponsor possessed, the greater their influence would become.
And the man with the greatest authority in the Empire was Valdemar Golt.
'Everything is flowing toward Valdemar Golt.'
Taken to the extreme, both the newly elevated and traditional nobles might eventually require his acknowledgment merely to continue participating in politics.
He was called a grand duke, but his actions were no different from those of a king wielding absolute power.
A patriot, my ass.
"…And now my position has become a problem as well."
Olivia spoke while struggling to suppress the tremor in her voice.
Unfortunately, she too depended heavily on the Church of Alte.
"The Church will now have to watch Valdemar's every move. They will probably try to return me to the position of imperial princess rather than continue training me as an apprentice saintess."
"Those people will not be as steadfast as you, Regent. They know that abandoning me would be the easier path."
Her greatest weakness was instability.
She possessed the potential to grow into a tree as firm as the World Tree, but for now she was nothing more than a fragile sprout that had only just broken through the soil.
"Regent Ferda."
Olivia set down her cup and took Ferda's hand.
Her delicate palm was damp with cold sweat.
"As I told you before, you should hand me over to Grand Duke Golt as soon as possible, before I completely lose whatever value I possess as a bargaining piece."
She smiled warmly.
"For several years—perhaps even several decades—I will live as Olivia Arken Golt. If I do that, everything will become easier for you. Once the second capital you intend to build is completed…."
She wore a benevolent smile.
It resembled the smile she had shown Prince Luthenia, yet somehow felt entirely different.
"I am prepared to make any sacrifice."
Olivia left, and Ferda remained seated in contemplation.
Only one word lingered in his mind.
Sacrifice.
Considering her ambition alone, it was truly a magnificent word.
If Princess Olivia's faction merged with that of Grand Duke Golt, and they promised to support the Far East militarily, the second capital she had spoken of would be far easier to complete.
There was no need for Ferda to agonize over the decision.
He was not selling Olivia like an object.
Olivia herself had chosen this path.
Twice, in fact.
'And yet….'
'Olivia Arken Golt, Grand Duchess.'
No matter how he considered it, the discomfort showed no sign of fading.
Why?
'Olivia resembled me.'
In that distant future that no longer existed, when Ferda had first entered the Imperial Palace, he had understood the moment he saw Olivia's face.
She, too, deeply hated her family.
Because Ferda had recognized that in her, he had distanced himself out of fear that she might recognize the same thing in him.
Ferda slowly retraced Olivia's life.
She had never married any man and had aged like a solitary, noble flower.
Until the day she became the seductress who brought the nation to ruin, she had never tempted a man and had preserved her chastity.
'And now a woman like that intends to marry her most hated enemy.'
Valdemar Golt was likely someone she despised almost as much as her own family.
Ferda could not remain in the same space as an enemy for years, months, or even several days.
Olivia would be no different.
Then why had she made such a drastic decision?
Was it truly because she cared for the people of the Empire?
Because she believed that sacrificing herself could save everyone?
Ferda could not tell which answer was true.
"Didn't everything work out well?"
His complicated thoughts were shattered.
The one who had barged inside without even bothering to knock was Zed.
Ferda suppressed his irritation and replied,
"It did work out well. Thanks to you."
"Indeed, thanks to me. And yet it appears there is still something you are dissatisfied with."
"This is not a matter to discuss with you. Why did you barge in here?"
Ferda had been prepared to reprimand him if he had barged in for no reason, but that did not appear to be the case.
In Zed's hand was a notebook that looked completely out of place there.
"Do you know what I was doing after I infiltrated the bishop's room?"
"I heard you found a corpse in his private quarters."
"There was more than just a corpse in there."
Originally, the hidden chamber had not been meant for storing bodies. It was a place where confidential letters and other documents accessible only to the bishop were kept.
Zed handed him a notebook he had taken from there.
"It seems bishops keep records of the confessions of high-ranking nobles."
"You brought that with you?"
"I was curious about what kind of filthy tricks those noble bastards had been getting up to. I was only going to read it as though it were some sordid melodrama, but then I found information valuable enough to justify an additional fee."
Zed's expression turned unusually serious as he opened the book.
"There was something like this inside."
Ferda read the passage.
The moment he saw it, he was shaken.
No words came out.
It felt as though someone had struck him violently in the back of the head.
"Ah…."
His mind reeled so badly that it would not have been an exaggeration to say he might go mad at any moment.
Driven to the very edge, at the instant he was about to be pushed over the cliff—
Ferda regained his composure.
"Zed."
The two syllables seemed to rise from the depths of an abyss.
Zed tensed at the chilling reaction, which was far worse than he had expected.
"Yes."
"Bring Garnet here. And prepare yourself as well."
"Prepare for what…?"
"The balance of power within the Empire is about to collapse because of me."
Ferda rose from his seat.
"I'm going to restore that balance."
That was all he said.
Yet Zed knew instinctively that somewhere, before the night was over, a storm of blood would erupt.
***
The residence of Akad Dvelung.
The capital of the Arken Empire was a city large enough to accommodate the staggering population of thirty million. As a result, even noble estates were more cramped than those found elsewhere.
Owning a grand mansion with a courtyard and garden in such a place was no easy feat.
For someone of marquis rank, it should have been impossible.
And yet Akad Dvelung lived in such a mansion.
It was the reward for his loyalty to the most powerful man in the Empire.
"Yes, Your Grace. I have prepared everything you instructed. We should be able to begin tomorrow."
What they had prepared was an official proclamation concerning the recent incident.
It declared that demonkin had infiltrated the Empire and that the situation must be recognized as a grave threat.
The problem was that this had not occurred among the lower classes, as was usually the case with demon worshippers.
It had erupted within the ruling class.
Valdemar was a man quick to calculate profit and loss.
He intended to use this chaos to strengthen his authority even further.
He had always said that the Golden Council would only become clean after half its members had been swept away.
The time had finally come.
"Yes. Without question, the utopia you have long desired will finally be completed, Your Grace."
As long as they handled this matter properly, Valdemar's practical authority would grow even stronger, transforming his faction into an enormous force that no one could touch.
"Understood. I will end the transmission now. Have a peaceful night."
Akad cut off the magical communication and exhaled as though overcome with ecstasy.
'With this… everything will fall into Lord Valdemar's hands.'
An absolute ruler beyond anyone's reach.
And as that ruler's right hand, Akad would finally be able to purge every person who had dared restrain him without knowing their place.
He would no longer need to concern himself with their reactions.
That pleased Akad far more than any honor or wealth he might receive.
"I should get some sleep for tomorrow."
He would be busy from the moment he opened his eyes.
Just as he finished tidying up and prepared to retire to his bedchamber, there came a knock.
The butler entered and delivered unexpected news.
"My lord, you have a guest."
"At this hour?"
Akad frowned.
Arriving suddenly without an appointment was discourteous, and Akad particularly disliked people who refused to observe such rules.
"Who is it?"
"A gentleman by the name of Ferda Valdrova."
The moment he heard the name, his displeasure vanished, replaced by the feeling that he had been caught off guard.
"You mean the fiancé of Princeps Valdrova?"
"Yes, my lord."
How strange.
That man had no reason whatsoever to seek him out.
"Since it is so late, shall I tell him to return tomorrow morning?"
Akad considered it for a moment, then shook his head.
"No. Let him in. Have the remaining servants light the entire mansion."
"Understood."
Regent Ferda was young, but the recent incident had shown everyone that he was not an easy opponent.
'Besides, Grand Duke Golt has taken an interest in him.'
Valdemar had never said so aloud, but his gaze whenever he looked at Ferda had made it obvious enough.
And now that man had appeared at Akad's home late at night.
'He came specifically to see me.'
Even if it proved to be a waste of time, it would not be an unpleasant one.
Akad walked to the entrance.
The butler opened the door and admitted the guest.
A man wearing a black suit entered with an expressionless face. He had gray hair and blue eyes.
There was no trace of murderous intent about him.
Akad greeted him first.
"It is an honor to meet you, Regent. I am Marquis Akad Dvelung."
Ferda politely bowed in return.
"You may speak casually to me."
"No, I could never do that. You are to become the consort of Princeps Valdrova, after all. And during the council session, I was acting as chairman, so my manner toward you then was unavoidable."
Akad smiled broadly.
"What brings you here at such a late hour?"
"I came to express my gratitude."
"Your gratitude?"
"I heard you prepared the potion Count Ulvera Consilus drank. I had matters that needed to be handled before evening, and I ended up visiting without proper courtesy. I apologize."
"N-not at all! Please, come inside. I will prepare some tea for you."
Ferda's eyes moved along the long corridor.
This was one of the largest homes in the imperial capital, yet there was not a single servant in sight as they walked through it.
"You do not keep many servants in this mansion."
"Ah, does it feel somewhat desolate? I rarely employ them unless there is major cleaning to be done."
"Alchemy requires delicate work, so that is understandable."
"It is not particularly delicate. I simply dislike unnecessary complications."
They exchanged light conversation until they reached the reception room.
Akad dismissed the butler, leaving only the two of them seated in the spacious chamber.
"I will prepare the tea."
"You could have asked a servant. It must be troublesome for you."
"It is a precious tea, so it requires careful preparation. Our butler does not know how to handle such things, and I have always served important guests personally."
"Is that so? In that case…."
Akad placed the leaves in the teapot and poured carefully heated water over them.
His movements possessed a delicacy befitting a member of an alchemical family.
The work requiring his hands was finished.
Now they only had to wait.
Akad glanced toward Ferda.
He was no longer seated.
Instead, he stood before the paintings hanging along the wall, examining one of them closely.
Akad might have dismissed it as simple interest in art, but that was not the case.
More than forty paintings hung on that wall.
Yet Ferda was looking at only one.
Just one.
It was an abstract painting created with rough, violently scattered splashes of paint.
"Do you like that painting?"
Akad approached and asked.
Ferda looked startled, as though he had been drawn out of deep contemplation.
"I feel something rather strange when I look at it. How should I put it? It seems to possess a force that pulls people toward it."
At Ferda's appraisal, Akad grinned.
Ferda was the first person ever to give him an answer he found so satisfying.
"My, my… After hearing you say that, I cannot help but boast a little. The truth is, I painted it myself."
"You did?"
"My skill is rather poor, so I slipped it in among the masterpieces to make it appear more impressive."
"I do not think your skill is poor. Had it been, this would not have been the first painting to catch my eye."
Ferda gazed at it with eyes steeped in emotion.
"This is the first time I have felt such burning passion from a painting."
Akad found himself liking Ferda more and more.
It was not merely because Ferda had said something flattering.
Countless people around Akad had praised his paintings.
There had even been those who had singled out that particular abstract piece.
But very few had understood the exact emotion they were supposed to feel from it as Ferda had.
Akad, approaching forty, felt his heart begin to race.
Perhaps—
'This man may be one of my own kind.'
If so—
Perhaps he could understand that as well.
"Regent."
"Yes, Marquis Dvelung?"
"You have praised my meager talent so generously that I find myself becoming rather conceited. There are other paintings I would like to show you."
Akad asked almost shyly.
"...."
Ferda nodded.
"If there are more, then I should be the one asking to see them."
"Ha-ha, very well!"
Delighted, Akad pressed a hidden section of the reception-room wall.
A mechanical sound followed.
The space between two masterpieces slowly opened, revealing a concealed chamber.
There was another painting inside.
Its style resembled the abstract work Ferda had just admired.
The painting Ferda had first seen was titled Passion.
The new one was titled The Love of Akad Dvelung.
"What do you think?"
Akad waited anxiously for Ferda's answer, like a child expecting a high score after every subject he had studied appeared on an examination.
"This is…."
Ferda gave him his score.
"Disgusting."
It was a failing grade.
Akad's face stiffened.
"…What did you say?"
"I do not know what you were attempting to express, but… I find it somewhat revolting."
Ferda's brow furrowed, and he covered his nose as though he had smelled something foul.
With perfect calm, he trampled upon and violated the feeling Akad had displayed without reservation.
"Was this meant to express the disgust you felt, Marquis?"
The feeling Akad had called love.
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