Chapter 106
"Lord Callias. We have arrived."
"See you later then."
Xenos disappeared as if he had some business to attend to, leaving Callias to enter the castle with Allen.
Grandeur itself.
The appearance of the royal castle had a somewhat strong religious undertone, but it was antique and stately.
It did not boast dazzling extravagance, but it had a refined, unadorned beauty.
The first things visible upon entering were the long-stretching gardens, the statues of gods placed in between, and the fountain standing tall in the center, along with the citadel divided into north, south, east, and west.
After walking straight for a while, a figure volunteering as a guide appeared alongside the royal guards, and they headed to the inner castle together.
"I have been waiting for you. Would you like to head straight to the martial banquet?"
"I shall."
No further explanation was needed.
Callias's black hair and mismatched eyes served as proof of his name and title.
"At the martial banquet, you are only allowed to carry iron swords permitted by the royal castle. If you have any swords or artifacts in your possession, we will store them here."
He led Callias and Allen to a storage room where weapons were displayed.
It was one of the places knights hated the most.
No matter how well-managed it was, no one wanted to leave their sword, which was like their heart, in such a place.
This was especially true for knights, and even more so for paladins.
That was the reason Xenos had disappeared as soon as they arrived at the royal castle.
"I didn't bring any."
He had already stored his sword in his spatial inventory, and he didn't have any particular artifacts.
There was no reason to come fully armed to the royal castle.
"I will leave mine."
And then, he received a sword.
It was an iron sword made by a master craftsman.
It didn't have much of an edge, but it looked as solid as a real sword.
'A spell formula of Holy Gold Art is drawn on it.'
It seemed to increase its durability with that.
It would only be at the level of a real sword at best, but it wasn't too bad for sparring.
Sparring.
That was the original purpose of the martial banquet.
While some martial banquets were gatherings of nobles laughing and chatting, carrying the vibe of high society, the martial banquet at the royal castle felt quite different. One could tell just from the fact that they wore swords upon entering.
The martial banquet hosted by the king was a place to prove one's achievements, as well as to evaluate and verify each other's swordsmanship.
Simply put, it could be concluded as a sword dance banquet.
For that reason, Callias had considerable expectations for the sword dance banquet.
Since he was the one who designed the setting, he was curious about what kind of stories would unfold at the sword dance banquet, what the characters would be like, and how things had changed.
If one wasn't curious about what kind of elegant sword dance would emerge from the combination of a banquet and swords, they must not be someone who wields a sword.
His expectations swelled.
"Count Callias von Zerban enters."
As the doors opened, the very first thing to greet Callias was none other than sound.
The sound of iron swords clashing? No.
The sound of a sword dance being performed? No.
It was the sound of men and young ladies wearing swords, chattering away amicably about each other's swords.
The laughter of men and women.
If it were just that, it wouldn't be strange.
Even if they carried swords, it was a banquet, after all. However, Callias quickly realized.
The fact that not a single person at the sword dance banquet had drawn their sword.
Those who conversed and danced with their swords? They did not exist.
Swords were only brought up as tools to raise their worth, as objects to elevate their status.
There were no knights at the sword dance banquet.
Callias's face turned chillingly cold.
Originally, Karpe's sword dance banquet was a place to gauge and exchange each other's skills.
But at some point, its purpose seemed to have lightly deteriorated.
He didn't expect it to rot to this extent.
Speaking of rotting, a truly rotten smell began to waft through the air.
"It smells rotten."
It was the smell of perfume.
It seemed the various perfumes they had sprayed on themselves mixed together, creating a rotten stench.
Their behavior was also rotten, so it wasn't much different.
There was no need to create a hostile atmosphere, but Callias was sickened by their current complacent behavior.
In the North, hundreds of soldiers and knights had died at the hands of the orcs who had fallen for the Empire's schemes.
The months-long war could only end after risking their lives multiple times.
It wasn't just the North.
The South and the West were the same; though weak and small in scale, they were risking their lives to resist the Empire.
To wield a sword meant to offer one's life.
On the battlefield, soldiers, knights, and even kings fought with their lives on the line.
So he didn't want to look at them.
He found them unsightly.
But would he just leave them be?
He couldn't do that.
To survive, change was necessary.
Just as it wasn't easy to purify stagnant water that had been sitting for a long time, changing a corrupted culture was no easy task either.
But that difficult thing.
Callias was thinking of giving it a try.
"Aren't you Count Zerban?"
Sure enough, a man who looked like he had slathered butter on his hair approached.
"Who are you."
"I am Jordan de Oulise. You've probably heard of Oulise's wine at least once."
Perhaps he was the leader of this rotten banquet hall; the young ladies were watching this way while covering their mouths with fans, and the men were laughing and chattering, boasting all about where they bought or obtained their swords.
"I have heard of your great name. For a flower like you to bloom in such a bleak season is the pride of the kingdom. How about joining me and the young ladies to discuss swords?"
Callias looked around with displeased eyes and let out a scoff.
"Like a trash can."
"...What did you just say?"
"That last remark was too rude. I misspoke."
"Aha. I almost misunderstood..."
"Vermin worse than trash putting on airs of discussing swords while only caring more about outward appearances—this isn't a martial banquet, it's no different from a cesspit."
Jordan's expression, which had been trying to continue smiling as if he had almost misunderstood, froze.
"...No matter if you are a count, you go too far! Calling the sword dance banquet with its long history and tradition a cesspit!!"
"What's the point of having a long history and tradition when the ones who should inherit and carry it on are nothing but trash."
The traditions of ancestors deserved to be respected, but if they had deteriorated into stagnant water, it was only right to throw it out and draw fresh water.
"H-How could you make such outrageous remarks..."
"Your words just now insult not only the martial banquet but Karpe itself on a larger scale! For a count to say what even the Emperor of the Empire shouldn't say if he came!"
The Emperor of the Empire? Bringing up the Empire over something like this. Fine then.
"I will tell you in detail why you are trash and filth."
"Go ahead."
First of all.
"The Emperor of the Empire would be justified. If the Emperor came here and called you trash, then you are trash. Why? Because he has the qualification to say such things."
He has the qualification.
If the Emperor of the Empire saw this behavior, he would erase from his heart the pride of considering the subjugation of such scum as a divine punishment.
Why wouldn't he?
If he saw such pathetic behavior, he wouldn't even be able to take pride in the hard work it took to subjugate Karpe.
At the very least, he was dynamically carrying out his will, unlike the nobles here who were wasting away their time.
"What!! To acknowledge the Emperor of the Empire in Karpe, what is this..."
"Let's hear him out. No matter how that story ends, I need to check Count Zerban's swordsmanship. Whether a scoundrel's swordsmanship suits the sword dance banquet will be told by history and tradition!"
What a joke.
Are they still calling Callias a scoundrel and a dullard in swordsmanship?
It was fitting for guys who had covered their eyes and closed their ears, flirting with the young ladies like frogs in a well while only putting on airs.
And secondly.
"If you are defeated by the Empire, the children of nobles will be the first to be sold off as slaves. The young ladies will be sold as concubines for the Empire, but the men will be worked as slaves or thrown into the battlefield to die, becoming expendables."
Yet these people came to the sword dance banquet and didn't even draw their swords once.
This atmosphere had probably been maintained for a long time.
The outside situation was a continuation of despair, and in their fierce lives, they probably just wanted to live comfortably.
"Your parents, taking into account the current reality of the kingdom, are probably pondering day and night about how to save the country from their respective positions. Yet you squander this golden opportunity by just laughing and chattering. You worthless vermin."
It was a waste to even let such people hold swords.
"Insulting the sword dance banquet is the same as insulting our ancestors!"
"Earlier you brought up the Empire, and now you bring up ancestors. It seems you have nothing to boast about yourself. Seeing how you always put others forward and spout the same drivel."
As soon as Callias's words ended, Jordan, unable to contain his humiliation, drew the sword at his waist.
His momentum was quite good.
"Painfully slow."
It was slow enough to make one yawn.
Compared to the orcs' axe swings, it was at the level of a child's play. But the moment it was pointed at Callias's neck, he spread his middle and index fingers and flicked it.
Twaang!
As the profound mysteries of the Pi-an-hwa were mixed in, he easily flicked Jordan's sword away.
"Heuk!"
Jordan's sword bounced away from the instantaneous reaction force, and Callias's fist struck the startled Jordan right in the face.
Craaack!!
"Keok!"
Crash!! Rumble, clatter!
The tableware and wine glasses placed on the table all spilled over.
White and red foods and wine dropped onto his clothes, embroidering them colorfully.
As Jordan was slammed down in an instant, the surroundings instantly fell silent.
Because there had never been anyone who beat up a fellow noble like that.
"Count Zerban. Are you confident you can handle the consequences of this?"
"What is there that I cannot handle?"
"I am asking if you intend to make an enemy of us nobles."
He was probably asking because he was the Queen's close aide.
The reason the sword dance banquet had deteriorated like this was probably because the power of the noble faction had grown stronger than the royalist faction.
Because of that, the Queen knew of this reality but couldn't carelessly try to change it.
He got a rough idea.
The guy in front of him asked Callias.
If he would stand by the powerless Queen.
If he dared to handle making an enemy of all the nobles.
Callias lightly answered the heavy pressure.
"I wonder how many nobles' necks I've chopped off while marching south from the North."
The rumors should have spread quite a bit by now.
"...Are you equating us to the Empire's spies!"
"There's no reason I can't."
Callias's other identity was the Captain of the Sixth Division of the Inquisition.
"Rather, the ones who must handle the consequences are not me, but you."
If he, a Count of the kingdom and simultaneously the Inquisitor Captain of the Order, set his mind to it, he could drag even dust to the gallows.
"This is not the North."
"It's a relief that it's not the North. Because there are fewer people under my wing."
But what about the other nobles?
That was what Callias was saying.
"A-Are you threatening me!"
"You were the one who threatened first. You can't even remember the words you spat out yourself."
The noble who had been pressuring Callias became like a mute who ate honey, only moving his lips.
Seeing him opening and closing his mouth like a carp was quite satisfying.
"Right. That guy called this place a sword dance banquet with a long history and tradition earlier."
Callias pointed with his chin at the guy who still couldn't get up from the floor.
"Karpe is originally a place where one proves their strength with the sword, where only the strong are allowed to speak, and the weak must keep their mouths shut."
Supremacy of the strong.
That was the true essence of this world.
To revere the strong, to hone one's own power, and to train in order to build a high rank—that was Karpe's true banner.
"You lot don't even reach the toes of me. No. Of the knight standing next to me."
So you must keep your mouths shut.
"Why, can't you accept it?"
Instead of answering, they chose silence.
But it was not a silence of agreement.
"......"
"......"
Looking at their expressions, it was quite a sight.
Allen. His outward appearance was still that of a boy who didn't look like an adult.
Although he had lost an eye, he had a youthful look that could be mistaken for a rookie.
Just by looking at his outward appearance, those idiotic guys had complaints and doubts rising on their faces, thinking 'he's not at that level'.
Just as he was feeling dumbfounded, wondering if they were so rotten that they couldn't even grasp Allen's aura,
[Sub-quest]
"Change the Sword Dance Banquet"
-The meaning and tradition of the sword dance banquet created by the main figures of Karpe's founding myth have faded long ago. Return it to its original state.
Since the quest had popped up at the right time, an interesting thought came to mind.
"Allen."
"Yes."
"You'll have to do some work."
"Give the order."
Allen gripped the scabbard of the iron sword he received from the royal family and looked at Callias.
Callias declared to the nobles who were still silent.
"Spar with my knight. And if even one of you wins against my knight, I will personally kneel and apologize for the rudeness I have shown you."
"...!"
The nobles began to stir.
One of the Four Great Nobles and owner of the Judgment Sword. Inquisition Captain.
Because he possessed all of this, they couldn't say anything to him.
But the moment he knelt and apologized, his face and prestige would fall to the ground.
It would mean he could never commit such violent acts again.
"How about it, will you do it?"
A proposal that could make that insolent bastard kneel and apologize.
And standing next to him, a small knight who looked like a boy no matter how you looked at him.
That was a fatal temptation.
The ambition to become the hero who subjugated that scoundrel and made him kneel. Unable to resist that temptation, a noble stepped forward.
"...F-Fine!"
A curve drew itself on Callias's lips.
* * *
"Your Majesty. It is time."
"Yes, let us go now."
Today was a gathering where many VIPs gathered for the sword dance banquet.
The Queen had her own expectations.
Sitting still and hoping for something to change was a foolish act. But new winds sometimes blow away the rotten smell and drop the fruit.
"The Queen of Karpe enters. Please everyone, show your respects!"
The moment she entered the hall.
The Queen opened her pure white eyes wide.
"How interesting."
Because the majority of the nobles present, with a few exceptions, were sprawled out on the floor.
The man standing tall in the center of it all.
Callias von Zerban.
The Queen's eyes looking at him drew a crescent moon for the first time in a while.