Encrid caught the scent of blood and a faint stench of decay within the hall.
There were clear signs of a battle.
Just a brief glance around was enough to understand.
The Queen sat on the throne, her lips tightly sealed.
Standing beside her was Luagarne, whose ankle had been severed. Despite this, she managed to maintain her balance, her heart armor exposed, showing signs of scratches.
'This is evidence of a fierce battle.'
Luagarne must have fought a battle intense enough to lose an ankle.
And yet, they had won.
At the base of the eight low steps leading to the throne stood the Marquis of Octo, wearing a robe speckled with blood.
His complexion was duller than before, showing no intention of hiding his grave expression.
What about the surroundings?
Though the bodies had been cleared, bloodstains remained on the floor, and the walls were cracked and dawizardd.
Even the white pillars supporting the hall bore sword marks.
What did the stench tell him?
It was the smell of a beast.
Among the corpses were several hairy monsters. Werewolves.
'It wasn't just VisCount Bentra.'
There was no need to pinpoint exactly who orchestrated this. The intention was clear.
It was a conclusion derived from instinct, reason, and thought.
'They planned to kill Krang, seize the Capital, and capture the Queen.'
Or perhaps they intended to kill the Queen as well? That much remained unknown. But whatever their full intention, it had utterly failed. Krang was alive, and the Queen, at least outwardly, appeared unharmed.
Encrid's gaze shifted behind the throne. There stood a man, positioned further back than the wizard.
He had a square jaw, graying hair at the temples, and neatly slicked-back brown hair.
The stern expression on his face suggested he was a man who might not speak a single word all day.
At his waist was a sword, the pommel shaped like the head of the Sun God. He stood directly behind the Queen.
It was the perfect position — whether to protect or to harm her.
"I didn't realize there was really a Guardian Knight."
The person least suited to this place spoke up. It was Count Molsen.
He ran a hand through his hair, glanced once at Krang and Encrid's group, and then turned his attention to the Queen.
Though, from what Encrid could sense, his gaze lingered only briefly on him.
His words weren't aimed at Krang but at Encrid. It had been a long time, and his comment was directed at him, not Krang.
Krang, as if invisible, didn't seem to register at all. It wasn't just disregard, he didn't even spare him a glance.
"That wasn't for you to know, was it?"
The Queen, who once exuded a warm and comforting presence, was no more. Her voice was low and subdued, reflecting her mood.
At that moment, the wizard next to her coughed, and the Queen's eyebrows lifted slightly.
"Do you admit that your intentions are impure?"
The Queen showed her anger.
"I do."
The Count responded. It was a short answer, but he smiled. As always, he was confident, steadfast. He was like an unbroken rock.
His arrogance, characteristic of someone who acts with conviction, was his weapon. Amid the stench of blood and decay, it was as if the Count's confidence filled the air like perfume.
It was the aura of someone who trusted only in themselves.
"May I ask one question?"
As if expecting no answer, the Count spread his arms and continued speaking. The Queen had no chance to respond.
"Is it true that this all happened because a few nobles rebelled? Look at the state we're in. The Knight order is divided, and the Guardian Knight had to step forward to protect the Queen. You must know the saying that when the Guardian Knight steps in, it's a sign the Country is doomed, don't you? Is this the end? Look outside. If someone had set a fire, the palace could have been burning."
He seemed to be suggesting they could have done that but didn't.
To Encrid, the Count's presence seemed to grow larger.
"Rubbish!"
A noble shouted. An unfamiliar face, but by his mere presence here, he must have been a noble of considerable rank. His voice was loud, but compared to the Count, he seemed much smaller.
It felt as though the sense of perspective was skewed.
"Don't dismiss reality as rubbish."
The Count's voice was softer, but it carried an air of authority that overwhelmed the room. The noble's mouth closed.
He knew there was nothing to gain by speaking further. It was the instinct of a noble who had survived in the political arena for a long time.
"Hmph."
Instead, the noble snorted, but the Count ignored him, as if dismissing him entirely with a calm demeanor.
He hadn't used a sword or his hands, but he had still knocked him down.
"What is it you wish to say?"
This time, another noble spoke up. An elderly man who resembled Marcus, the Marquis of Visar.
The head of the Thumb family, Central Pole.
His white hair was slicked back with oil, and not a drop of blood had touched his clothes.
It suggested that the path he had taken, his purpose and reason for being here, was different from the others.
"I want to ask why things have turned out this way."
The Count responded.
"A reason, you ask?"
The Marquis asked again.
"What do you think would have happened if the King had power?"
The corners of the Count's eyes and mouth gently curved as he smiled while speaking.
"You scoundrel! How dare you insult the Royal Family!"
The same noble from earlier couldn't hold back and interrupted. His short brown hair and wide-open eyes revealed his hot temper.
"Stop butting in. Or perhaps your master ordered you to?"
At the Count's words, the noble's hand trembled. He was wearing a short sword at his waist, looking as if he might draw it at any moment.
The Count, having said his piece, ignored him. The Marquis of Octo gestured toward the noble.
The noble promptly closed his mouth.
"What if, with just a word, I could summon Sir Cyprus here?"
The Count didn't lose his smile and continued to ask.
"What do you think would happen if the south were left unguarded?"
When the Marquis of Visar asked back, Count Molsen answered as if he had been waiting for this question.
"Does that matter?"
"The sword that protects the palace. If that isn't important, what is?"
The Marquis of Octo interrupted and asked.
The Count answered calmly.
"The throne, the King, power, authority, and with that, control."
His intent was clear. To establish the throne and secure power first.
"Who gives the orders to the Knight order?"
The Count spoke as if giving a speech, raising his clenched right fist.
"Is it the Knight they praise as their master? Or is it the King? Or the throne? Or perhaps—!"
His voice flew like a dagger. The Queen gritted her teeth, and the muscles in her jaw visibly tensed.
"Their beloved game of honor."
What comes first?
The throne. The king. Power. Control. Gathering power and building strength came first.
What use was the throne if there was no power to achieve one's goals?
"Abdicate the throne, Your Majesty. That is the way to save this Country."
The Count had crossed a line—he had leaped far beyond it. Yet, it didn't seem out of place. His words carried a force that made it seem as though what he said was true.
He spoke as if presenting a sound argument, laying out the path to save the Country.
The Marquis of Visar, with a calm face and tone that didn't match the setting, threw an obstacle before the Count's words.
"And if you become King, what would be different?"
"Everything would be different."
"How?"
The somber Marquis of Octo followed up with a question.
"I would consolidate power and strengthen the throne. As for those trying to push through? The lost territories? Within a few years, we would push them back and reclaim the lands. Isn't that all that matters?"
It was a declaration that they would take a different path. First, they would solidify their foundation, then, with newfound strength, they would begin again.
"With what?"
"I am a wizard. And in my territory, I have forces equivalent to the Knight order."
This time, it was a clear threat. Even Encrid, observing, felt it.
Do you have power? I do.
That's what he was saying.
The two Marquises were left speechless. And the Queen was no different.
"Your Majesty, how long do you think your Guardian Knight can protect you? Nonsense. If you have the courage, then try it. I will show you the strength of a man born and raised in the land of Molsen, which you call the frontier."
The word 'arrogance' was appropriate now.
Even though his plan had failed, the Count neither begged for forgiveness nor resorted to scheming from the shadows.
He stood tall and spoke straight.
It was a head-on charge, fully confident he could take what he wanted by force.
"Bring the Knights. I will have them all kneel before me, kill them, and then personally proclaim this Kingdom as mine."
Killing all the Knights? Ridiculous. But the way the Count spoke made it seem possible. His words carried weight.
His statement pressed down on the entire hall, dragging them down. It felt as though everyone should kneel.
Of course, Encrid would not.
Neither would the Marquis of Octo nor the Marquis of Visar. However, it was clear that a few of the remaining nobles were wavering. The battle seemed over, and the Count appeared to be the victor.
"It's magic."
As Encrid was watching, a whisper came from beside him.
Esther had drawn close without him noticing.
"So that's the trick he's pulling."
She spoke, but Encrid didn't respond, only kept his gaze forward.
Magic, huh? So the Count was using some sort of trick.
Should he just cut him down? He hadn't liked the man from the start.
Sensing his thoughts, Ragna, standing behind him, asked a question.
"Should I cut him down?"
Could it work? He hesitated for a moment, but then Krang raised his hand. His face broke into a cheerful smile. The look was not just out of place next to the calm demeanor of the Marquis of Visar—it bordered on madness.
And then came the words and title he uttered.
"I have a question, sir."
Krang's face was unusually joyful. His use of 'sir' was mocking, a deliberate insult. He was picking a fight.
That mocking title made it impossible for the Count to ignore him any longer.
The Count turned to the Queen and spoke directly.
"You're trusting this reckless child? This kid with no power, no influence?"
Krang was no child. His beard was quite thick. But if the Count said it, it made it seem true.
Krang didn't care what the Count called him.
His attitude was one of complete indifference. He followed up his nonchalance with a sharp retort.
"If you remove the Knight order and eliminate the Knights, then the southern lands of Rihinstetten will expand their territory. And what about the Demon Realm? Naturally, you won't be able to stop it."
Krang stepped into the Count's arena. He played along with the atmosphere. He didn't seem to care. His smile remained faint, unbothered.
"And?"
The Count asked back, finally meeting Krang's gaze.
"Then, many people will die. Losing land won't be the end of it. As the land is lost and we retreat, Countless people near the borders will perish. Is that the end? If we lose both people and land, merchants will visit less frequently. And if fewer merchants come, what do you think will happen? Less gold will flow. Then the Kingdom's finances might falter for a while. Oh, unless you have an abundance of gold, in which case I assume you, Count, will personally cover all of this with your wealth? But no matter how great your power, you won't be able to stop both the southern Rihinstetten and the Demon Realm, will you?"
The Count looked at this naive fool standing on his stage. His eyes were filled with scorn, as though he were dealing with an annoying pest. He met Krang's challenge head-on.
"Sacrifices are inevitable. It's simply something that must be done."
"Must it?"
"How else do you expect to move forward without sacrifice?"
Krang spread both hands.
"Do both."
"Both?"
"No sacrifices. And at the same time, strengthen the Royal Family and build the Kingdom's foundation."
"That's nonsense."
"Don't dismiss what's to come as nonsense."
"Claiming you can do the impossible is your only weapon, isn't it?"
"No, that's not my weapon. My weapon lies elsewhere."
"Then show me."
"I'm good at asking for favors."
"Favors?"
"For example, if I were to ask someone right now to chop off your head, there'd be someone willing to do it."
"Go ahead, then."
Krang, still smiling, looked at the Count as if he were a dear friend.
"Do you want to die?"
"You cannot kill me."
Such certainty.
At that moment, as Encrid prepared himself to step in if necessary, Krang turned to him.
"Can I ask a favor, Enki?"
Krang spoke, his gaze shifting towards Encrid. His blue eyes were a mix of playfulness and intensity.
It might have seemed like an odd statement. Perhaps he shouldn't have stepped forward.
After all, everyone was being crushed by the overwhelming presence of the Count and Krang.
Even Ragna, who earlier had been so quick to act, now hesitated.
In that moment, Encrid took a step forward.
"Of course."
He spoke, seamlessly blending into the atmosphere.
The mood twisted strangely. Encrid, the sword in Krang's game, had stepped forward.
"As I thought, he's quite the tempting friend."
Count Molsen commented, watching Encrid step up.
"He's not your friend, he's mine. Right?"
Krang replied.
"Even now, you could switch sides. Just look at the situation. Even a seven-year-old child knows you should stand with the winning side."
The Count spoke confidently, directing his words at Encrid.
It was as if whoever could convince Encrid to join their side would emerge victorious.
Encrid boldly took another step forward, standing next to Krang and lifting his wrist into the air.
"Victory."
It was a clear judgment.
"As expected."
Krang smiled and nodded.
The Count, watching, let out a hearty laugh.
"Good, good! Very well! Queen, is this your choice?"
"There is nothing to say to a traitor."
The Queen finally responded.
The Count glared at Krang and spoke.
"You said you would strengthen your position without calling the Knight order? Then you'll have to stop the arrow I've already loosed. Without your precious Knights."
"Are you concerned for me? Thanks, but I'll defeat your forces without the Knight order."
Krang mocked his opponent. The Count didn't react to the mockery, but instead, a faint hissing sound was heard as white smoke began to escape from his entire body.
"It wasn't even his true form."
Esther spoke to Encrid, but her words were heard by everyone.
"Oh, I've already sent a portion of my forces to the Border Guard. When you see the grand flames rising from that city, you might change your mind."
The Count's body shriveled as the smoke escaped, and he spoke.
"Until next time."
Whether it was the last time or not, with those words, the Count's body crumbled.
Encrid looked at the face of the fallen man. He didn't recognize him. But Krang did.
"Viscount Mernes."
He had disappeared without a trace, only to die here as the Count's messenger.
Krang let out a long sigh.
The two Marquises watched him. No, they were watching both Krang and Encrid.
"Well, Your Majesty. I've kept my promise."
Krang spoke in that moment.
His tone hadn't changed. He was still cheerful.
"All the noble factions in this room have been cleared, leaving only my people."
He immediately moved on to discuss his agreement with the Queen. There was no time to leisurely organize and assess the situation.