"Goodbye, Historia! I'm off!"
'...Leaving again.'
As I was actually about to depart, Historia felt a vague sense of anxiety, as if some lingering attachment remained.
Historia's lingering attachment to me stemmed from unpleasant memories from the past. I disappeared, and the Hameln incident erupted. The horrific memory of pulling out the corpses of dead friends was a shackle that suppressed Historia, while simultaneously becoming the catalyst for creating a new goal. It was what Historia herself wanted, but the fact that it was a scar born of pain remained unchanged.
Historia momentarily reached out to grab me, but it stopped at just a thought.
'Still, it's different from back then. Huey is properly saying goodbye to me. And... probably, he'll come back.'
The deliberation ended. Historia awkwardly raised the hand she had half-extended. Perhaps because it wasn't an intentional movement from the start, it felt clumsy. Waving her hand timidly, Historia bid me farewell.
"Come back stronger."
"I can't get any stronger!"
Always egging me on. If I actually got stronger, would you be able to handle it? The moment I gain strength, I'll subject you to torture disguised as a massage. I'll teach you that massages can become painful depending on who performs them.
...Well, no matter how much I train, I wouldn't be able to make Historia's body suffer that much anyway.
How deflating. This is exactly why I don't train.
Thus, with one secret and one friend buried away. I left the Military Nation.
The Military Nation exploits its citizens. It allows them enough resources to get by and a modicum of luxury, but anything beyond that is strictly forbidden—even in their dreams. Thanks to driving its citizens to work relentlessly through somewhat coercive methods, the Military Nation amassed vast material wealth.
However, even a thousand pieces of gold left piled in a warehouse is no different from rocks.
The massive mechanism that generated enormous wealth by treating humans like parts—for what purpose did it spin so busily?
"One mystery of the Military Nation. Where did all those accumulated assets go? The answer is right here!"
I said, patting the Cataract enthusiastically.
The Military Nation's strategic weapon, the Cataract. Encased entirely in Highcost's alchemic steel, it boasted overwhelming defensive power, and with its simple yet innovative structure, it was a rolling fortress that even possessed mobility.
Along with combat-type outfit modules and military regalia, the Cataract was treated as a Level 4 strategic material—the essence of the Military Nation. It possessed weight and power that easily surpassed even ironclad cavalry. Even a renowned warhorse would be no match for a Cataract in terms of strength.
Tir also looked around and muttered.
"I have seen something similar. The tyrant of the Golden Kingdom that once dominated rode a luxurious carriage akin to this. I heard that crafting one required the labor equivalent to building an entire castle, yet she possessed dozens of them."
"The Cataract is less luxurious but more functional than that, so the price is probably similar? Since it's not for just one person's use, there are more of them than that."
"So they squeezed the blood of the people to create such extravagance. Hmm. No wonder the nation declined."
Hilde, who received the evaluation of having blood squeezed from a vampire, protested as if unjustly accused.
"'I' am innocent! This Cataract isn't 'mine'!"
"Even if it isn't yours, as a general, you can use it as you please, can you not?"
"That's not true either! The Cataract is one of the Military Nation's strategic materials, so no one can use it freely! Including 'me', one of the Six-Star Generals!"
That is actually true.
The Military Nation is a country that doesn't even allow luxury to its ruling class, the generals. A general's ceremonial quarters are shabbier than my room that I secretly cobbled together. Of course, generals can own property, so if they save up their salaries they can enjoy whatever limited luxury exists... But having to save up salary just to afford luxury in the first place means it's far from conventional extravagance.
However, Tir, who was herself both a nation and nobility, found it difficult to separate the ruling class from the state.
"Yet, when you asked for it, did I not hand it over promptly?"
"That's because permission came from above!"
"You are saying the same thing in different words. If you can use it with permission, is it not yours?"
"The difference is just too huge! The point where upper-level permission is needed to move it means it's not 'mine', and originally, as the Minister of Public Security, 'I' would be refused for insufficient justification if I requested such a flashy thing! Letting you use a Cataract just to move a few people is a special case!! You all are enjoying a privilege that even 'I' haven't been able to enjoy!"
Hilde jumped up and down, expounding on how unjustly treated she was. Swept up in that raucous atmosphere, Tir waved her hand as if annoyed.
"I understand roughly. The carriage is shaking, so stop jumping."
"What?! There's no way this heavy lump of iron would shake just because a light and frail girl like 'me' stomped her feet a little! You're so mean!"
Her tantrum was exactly like a tomboy dealing with a neighbor grandmother. Considering the other party was the progenitor of vampires, she seemed to be running wild without valuing her life, but surprisingly, Tir listened to Hilde despite finding her annoying.
"Yes, yes. It was a slip of the tongue."
'My, as expected of a father and daughter, both are quite noisy. I need to coax and appease her first. They say to catch the horse before attacking the general. If she's Huey's daughter, it would be best to build a relationship early on.'
My daughter? Do you really believe that?
This person is strange. She's a vampire but doesn't know how to doubt human words at all. To accept it so readily just because Hilde said she was my daughter. Didn't she feel something was off?
Well, I can roughly guess what conclusion she reached. It's similar to how humans don't doubt livestock. Vampires are human, but at the same time predators that prey on human blood. Even if deceived, they can just catch and eat them if push comes to shove, so they can't help but be careless.
She might take a big fall someday like that. No, maybe she's already been hurt. But what can you do. Everyone learns by getting hurt. Experiences carved by wounds tend to last.
Because I am a benevolent yet strict king who even protects the right to get hurt.
"...Wait, Tirkanjak. Do you believe those absurd words?"
However, the regressor was determined to even take away Tir's right to get hurt. The regressor crossed her arms and pointed out the contradiction.
"I don't know why Yeonggwi calls Huey 'Father,' but it doesn't make sense. It's completely illogical."
"What doesn't make sense?"
"Yeonggwi is a Six-Star General known to have been active in the shadows since the Military Nation was first founded. If she was already active 25 years ago when the Military Nation was established, even estimating young, that means she's at least in her forties."
She shot back sharply, as if she had become a detective. It was a very elementary deduction that even an elementary school student could make, but it was something Tir had failed to realize.
'Ah, I forgot. I originally have trouble properly sensing the age of others...'
No, she didn't fail to realize it—she ignored it because it was too small. Things that happen in double digits must have been somewhat unfamiliar to a 12th-century girl.
'...Hmm. Let's see. What does age matter...'
While Tir, continuing her thoughts, hesitated before a forbidden truth, the regressor ended up even stripping away Tir's right to wound herself.
"That ajumma just arranged her appearance like that with her transformation ability, but she's actually much older! Hmph, and yet calling someone her son's age 'Father.' Isn't she ashamed?"
Wow, that's harsh. Even if it's true, is there no consideration at all? The words were so harsh that even Tir beside her was slightly wounded.
"Wow."
On top of that, being called ajumma to her face, Hilde's mask slightly slipped. Hilde wiped the smile completely from her face and glared at the regressor.
"That's too much. Beyond rudeness, it's downright cruel. Really, with such a pretty face, I can see why you have no popularity with women."
"I don't need things like popularity! I'd rather decline it from my side!"
"Huu. It's also 'my' problem for getting caught by such cheap provocation. This is why 'I' need to wear a mask. If it's not 'me,' I could just brush off whatever they say, but when 'I' reveal 'my' bare face, it gets scratched right away."
Hilde quickly composed herself. With self-suggestion in her heart—
"This is something 'I' really, really didn't want to say because it's highly classified. But the smear campaign against 'me' has crossed the line, so 'I' have no choice. Shay, you think 'Eimeder' is the Military Nation's guardian angel, right? And that 'Sieghrun' is an assassin whose identity no one knows."
"...Isn't that so?"
"Wrong. 'Sieghrun' is not 'me.' Likewise, 'Eimeder' is not an angel either."
It seemed she was properly stimulated, as Hilde smoothly divulged information only she knew, even without being asked.
"The three heroes brought by the warlords—'Sieghrun,' 'Eimeder,' and 'Maximilian.' Sieghrun is an assassin whose face no one knows, and Eimeder is an angel protecting the Military Nation? That can't be. When you have to build a nation anew from ashes, who would believe in formless faith."
"Wait. That means—"
"Yees. Sieghrun, Eimeder. Both are real people. Neither is in the Military Nation right now, but the Military Nation seems to want people to believe they exist. They made 'me' play the role of 'Sieghrun'!"
'Perhaps, they might have left a place for them. So they could return at any time.'
Hilde swallowed those words alone.
The Saintess's Guard, the Holy Sword Order. When Yuel was excommunicated from the Holy See, she surrendered all authority and possessions as a Saintess, but that power alone could not be taken away. No, even the Holy See couldn't take it away.
The Saintess is God's proxy, the executor of prophecy. Whether excommunicated or having run away, the Saintess's path is entirely a divine sacramen ordained by the Celestial God. Two of the most faithful Holy Sword Knights served the excommunicated Saintess and reached the Military Nation.
Those two were Eimeder and Sieghrun. Well, they left not long after Yuel holed up clutching a male corpse.
I can roughly guess the reason they left. Even if it were me, if the Saintess I served was holed up in her room showing all sorts of disgraceful behavior, any devotion would dry up. I haven't met them directly so I don't know the details, but it must have been something like that.
'From the perspective of 'me' who was dragged in ignorantly and used as pleased, it's not exactly a pleasant story~'
"Who are they?"
Having heard unexpected information, the regressor paid attention to every word Hilde said.
Tsk. I keep feeling this, but the regressor really doesn't know much for a regressor. Thanks to that, I go through all sorts of hardships to barely peek into the regressor's memories but can't trust them 100%.
Even in the previous cycle, she claimed to have formed a close relationship with the Holy See—how could she not know the hidden affairs between the Military Nation and the Holy See? It's not like everyone in the Holy See agreed to hide information.
'Hmm. Should I stop here? If I say more, our poor Saintess will be in even more trouble.'
Thinking she had seized enough initiative in the meantime, Hilde closed her mouth at this point. Smiling with her eyes at the questioning regressor, she put her index finger to her lips and tilted her head.
"I don't want to tell you~"
"What?!"
"This ajumma is quite fickle, you see. 'My' mood has rapidly deteriorated, so 'I' don't want to talk anymore! Hmph!"
Hilde turned her head away with puffed cheeks. At such childish behavior, the regressor wore an expression of disbelief.
"Are you sulking right now? You're not a child."
"I'd rather be a childish child than be called an ajumma."
"Alright! Getting mad over something so trivial. I take it back!"
"Take it back? Can you put spilled words back in your mouth? Words are like swords. Pulling out a sword that was thrust in doesn't heal the wound it caused. The wound can only be tightly bandaged with a heartfelt apology."
In short, she was telling her to apologize. As Hilde remained stubborn, the regressor made a small noise of frustration.
'Right. It's a small price to pay for information if I just bow my head once! I was a bit harsh too!'
Having finished her judgment, the regressor bowed her head slightly with a calculated apology.
"I'm sorry. I, I was insensitive."
"Hehe. You're basically bowing and offering a New Year's bow, but 'I' will accept your apology. Please be careful next time."
"Ugh. Understood."
"Indeed, Shay. You need to pay attention to your words and actions."
"I'll keep that in mind... Wait, Tirkanjak? Why are you the one accepting the apology?"
Suddenly having to apologize to two people, the regressor nonetheless completed her mission and demanded new information.
"So, where are the real Eimeder and Sieghrun? Where are they?"
"I don't know!"
"Huh?"
Hilde answered innocently.
"How would 'I' know how my predecessor worked here or where they went after leaving this workplace? 'I' was just brought in midway and worked! Don't forget. Whatever the original 'Sieghrun' was, it's a fact that 'I' inherited that role!"
"Hey! Then nothing has changed!"
The regressor jumped up and pointed at Hilde.
"Either way, you're Yeonggwi, and you're older than Huey! That's still the same!"
"Hehe. Busted."
"Busted, my foot! What were you denying this whole time then!"
"That 'I'm' an ajumma! 'I' didn't want to be treated like that in front of Father!"