Ares headed underground across the faintly rising dawn.
“What happened? You insisted you knew nothing, so why the sudden change of heart?”
“While you were away, the young lady of Count Luwen came to see the Count.”
When Ares came to an abrupt halt and looked back, Joseph could not bring himself to meet his eyes and hesitated.
“Speak quickly.”
An impatient urging followed.
“Even one sentenced to extreme punishment may see their direct blood relatives….”
“I know. Direct blood relatives are permitted visits. Get to the point.”
“Not long after meeting his daughter, he changed his words.”
“Did you doze off while those two met?”
“Doze off, Your Grace? I was watching! The two hardly even spoke. The young lady of Count Luwen embraced the Count and wept the moment she saw him.”
“Embraced him?”
“Yes. She wept for a long while, then simply returned. After the young lady left, the Count said nothing. Then, out of nowhere, he claimed that everything had been his own scheme.”
Joseph stood at attention like a new recruit, watching his temper. Ares, lost in thought for a moment, did not ask further and quickly descended to the underground prison. The soldiers and knights guarding the underground prison bowed their heads respectfully to the Duke rushing down. It was a far cry from the rigid attitude they had shown at the time of his return.
The underground was filled with the wails of those who could not endure the abyss. But Ares sat coldly in the judge’s chair as if he could not hear such sounds. Then he commanded a soldier who looked visibly nervous.
“Bring Count Luwen.”
Moments later, Count Luwen was dragged out from the abyss, a changed man overnight. His broad shoulders, hardened under the sun, sagged without strength, and his expression, once full of confidence, was now etched with unmistakable despair.
Kneeling like a defeated soldier, he repeated the same words like a parrot.
“It was all my scheme. Recruiting the ‘Iron Foot’ and the soldiers was also my own decision. It was all my doing, Your Grace.”
Ares sat with his long legs crossed, silently staring at him. Then he tossed out a question.
“Have you ever been to the Wall of Death?”
“…….”
“There, pale fog hangs thick all year round. From the fog settled on the ground seeps the stench of decaying dead animals. Even clad in fur, the damp chill pierces to the bone.”
On the jet-black stone walls reeking with foul stench, not even a single common weed grew.
“But compared to what lies beyond the wall, it is close to paradise. At least there are no demonic beasts emerging through the thick fog.”
“…….”
“You will be sent there. Your name and honor will not be permitted even after death.”
Count Luwen looked up at the Duke blankly.
The interrogation led by Joseph Rexton and Crimson Isaac had been severe enough to break his robust body. The terror of the infamous underground abyss had also been powerful enough to break his mind.
But neither could compare to the strange terror the Duke inspired.
If a god descended to earth to punish a human, would he not look like that?
Sitting crookedly in the judge’s chair with his long legs crossed, he looked not merely cold but even weary. He had been like that throughout the entire process. The thought of confessing everything gradually welled up. Just as the fear of death was overcoming his loyalty, an emotion that overwhelmed both fear and loyalty came to him.
‘Father, Father….’
‘Flora, Father is fine. Do not cry.’
‘Please save me.’
‘…….’
When his daughter was young, he was the one who had understood her babbling, even when the Countess could not. It was a sound closer to the mere shape of lips moving, but the father understood his daughter’s true heart.
Count Luwen repeated the same words without even realizing his cheeks were growing wet with tears.
“It was all my scheme. It has not the slightest connection to Marquis Linco.”
“…….”
A brief silence passed. Count Luwen realized the Duke’s mind was set.
The Duke slowly rose from his seat. Then he gave a concise command, as if showing he would no longer attempt to sway the Count.
“Joseph, convene the Grand Council immediately.”
To the Count’s ears came the sound of Luwen crumbling.
The gorge and river bearing the name Luwen, the salmon leaping vigorously up that river, the coniferous forests stretching tall in triangular shapes, and the herds of reindeer threading between them flashed before his eyes like a lantern show. And also the voices of his grandparents who had shown him that land.
‘This is the land bestowed by the Dowager Duchess of Richmond. Is it not truly beautiful? One day you will rule this land, so look well.’
The warm hand of his doting grandmother brushed over his head.
‘You must devote your life to loyalty.’
“Uwaaaaah….”
In the end, he pressed his head against the sharp stone floor and burst into tears of remorse.
* * *
Luwen’s downfall was decided in the early morning.
Unlike the sunny yesterday, a bleak chill swept in. Autumn rain trickled down the stone walls, and wind from some unknown source swayed dozens of candles this way and that. The shadows cast by the flickering candles writhed non-linearly, heightening the tension permeating the Blue Eagle Hall.
The crimes of Count Luwen, ringing out in the attendant’s sonorous voice, struck the Countess across the cheeks.
“Huu-heu-heuk.”
Count Luwen knelt below the podium, while the Countess of Luwen stomped her feet and wept. The Young Count of Luwen also stared blankly at his father, as if lost in spirit. Flora, too, seemed vacant at a glance, as if her soul had wandered off.
Her gaze reached Ares, seated upon the podium.
How could a person be so cruel?
She felt as though her heart was being crushed and she might die, yet that man looked not merely cold but relaxed. The saying that if you pricked him, not a drop of blood would come out—a saying surely coined for someone like him.
The attendant’s voice, which had continued for some time, cut off abruptly. The Duke’s slow exhalation was more chilling than the wind’s howl.
“Do you confess your crimes?”
The Countess of Luwen stopped her weeping and held her breath. She muttered the word “please” over and over. But cruelly, her husband betrayed her wish.
“Yes, Your Grace. I confess. It was all my own decision.”
“My lord, my lord!!!”
“Father!!!”
The Countess and the Young Count wailed and tried to rush toward him, but they were blocked by soldiers. Flora tightly clasped both hands, watching the backs of her mother and older brother.
The sight of Count Luwen’s family gave Ares a certain conviction. His gaze drifted from Flora to Marquis Linco. At the Marquis’s expression, not showing the slightest disturbance, the corner of Ares’s mouth slanted upward.
The Marquis must be patting his chest in relief, thinking he had barely escaped the snare coiled around his ankle.
That could not be allowed.
“Marquis Linco.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Ares, who had been seated the whole time, slowly rose.
Count Luwen, slumped wretchedly like the remains of a collapsed castle wall, raised his head to look at the Duke. The Countess, the Young Count, and Flora did the same.
Dozens of candles burning at his feet magnified the Duke’s shadow. The shadow slowly devoured the eagle on the tapestry from its talons up. Soon, Richmond’s eagle was completely engulfed by Ares’s shadow.
Receiving the gazes of the Richmond vassals pouring down upon him, Ares commanded.
“I shall entrust Count Luwen’s punishment to you.”
The brows of Marquis Linco, who had been feigning composure, twisted. Edward, standing guard beside his father, spoke out as though in protest.
“But Your Grace!”
“Do not make me repeat myself.”
Ares cut Edward off decisively and fixed his gaze on the father and son. His eyes, reflected in the candlelight, flashed menacingly like those of a tiger.
If one resolves to cut off the tail, one must do so with one’s own hand. Bearing the blood, pus, and pain flowing from the severed cross-section is also the lot of the one who cuts.
“Punish the House of Count Luwen, Marquis Linco.”
Just then, rain began to pour down tumultuously with a rumbling crash. Fierce raindrops beat heavily against the window.
“Father…!”
Edward grabbed Marquis Linco’s arm, but the Marquis shook off his son’s hand.
Nothing was going as it should, and his chest churned with frustration. Count Luwen had been a man with a soft side. But he had not expected him to be so weak even with his own life on the line.
He should have killed himself. That way, it would have been worth my protecting his daughter. What is this messy spectacle.
“Begin.”
From behind him came the Duke’s voice, urging the attendant on.
The Marquis’s eyes flashed fiercely. The Duke’s trick was obvious. ‘Cut off your own tail with your own hand’—was that not it? As if he could not do it.
He had always been a man who drew clear lines between reward and punishment. It was only natural to be cast aside if one could not handle affairs properly. Moreover, if one were to cut, one had to carve it out cleanly to avoid aftereffects.
As the attendant recited the Count’s crimes once more, he delivered a cold punishment.
“…therefore, Count Luwen shall serve as a soldier at the Wall of Death; the term shall be for the duration of his survival.”