The Overlord’s Sword

47

“Mother, why are you leaving the Minister alone? Even with Laplace’s Demon, if we attacked the Empire and secured the Minister, wouldn’t some solution arise?”

Instead of answering, the girl flicked her fingers.

The resulting shockwave slammed Erich’s body against the wall.

“Ghk?!”

“Please, child, spare me your witless pronouncements. If you persist, I may well replace you in the role of my son. Bear that in mind.”

“I-I will keep it in mind…”

The girl frowned and returned her gaze to the chessboard.

As she herself had previously estimated, even deploying Oracle’s ‘forces’ would make extracting the Minister from the Empire close to impossible.

If the Empire were the sole opponent, they could inflict damage enough to bring about its ruin, but the cost would be the death of Oracle and herself.

‘While the Minister would survive.’

That would be pointless.

Besides, there was no reason to be anxious in the first place.

If the girl’s predictions were correct, the seal on the Tablet, having endured two destructions, was likely weakening gradually.

Of course, with Laplace’s Demon, the key, they could immediately locate the Tablet, undo the seal, and proceed to the next step, but that wasn’t necessarily urgent.

‘Time is on our side, after all.’

When the time came, even the Minister would have no choice but to move.

Therefore, the girl simply had to wait patiently until the real game began.

‘More importantly…’

The girl’s hand moved towards the pieces on the board.

It was toppled things she reached for.

Toppled things that righted themselves, returning to the game board.

Joining the game as they pleased, without the blessing of the Commandant or the girl.

“Such a bother, truly.”

A sigh escaped the girl as she regarded the pieces she’d set upright, as if they disgusted her.

—

“Speak. Why did you do it?”

Francesca’s question, posed from her desk, was met with silence from the three knights standing stiffly before her.

Their appearances were, to put it mildly, a mess.

Lips were split, bleeding, and violet bruises bloomed around their eyes.

What’s more, their earth-caked forms suggested a shared tumble in the dirt.

“I’ll ask one last time. Explain yourselves.”

Francesca was demanding the reason for the brawl her subordinates had engaged in with knights from another order.

Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, her men had won despite being outnumbered. Still, a clash with another order couldn’t be overlooked.

She needed to know what had happened, at least to prepare some defense when she spoke with the senior knight, the commander of the opposing order.

But her men remained stubbornly silent.

Francesca, deciding she had no choice, was about to mete out suitable punishment and rise to apologize to the senior knight when one of the three spoke.

“Commandant. Whose knights are we?”

“Hey!”

“You!”

The other two, flustered, tried to stop him, but Francesca silenced them with a stern look before answering.

“We are knights of the glorious Acherus Empire, servants of Emperor Sylvester Acherus. Why do you ask such a thing now?”

“Is that truly so?”

“Enough already…!”

“Stop…!”

Again, Francesca cut off the two knights attempting to silence their companion, her voice sharp with command.

“The two of you, quiet. Do not speak until I permit it. And Anton, explain what you mean by ‘is that truly so.'”

Anton hesitated for a moment, but seemingly decided the die was already cast, and continued with an air of resignation.

“Commandant. Do you know what the knights of other orders have been calling us lately?”

“What should we call them?”

“We’ve been calling them the Barmut’s private soldiers.”

“………What?”

For a moment, Francesca’s eyes blinked, failing to grasp the meaning.

Anton’s story continued nevertheless.

“Lately, our Third Order has been frequently operating at the request of Minister Barmut of the Intelligence Bureau. They call it cooperation, which sounds nice, but frankly, we can’t shake the feeling that we’re acting solely on his orders.”

Anton added that it wasn’t a complaint in itself, a sentiment the other two knights affirmed with nods.

Each time they acted on the Minister’s orders, the reputation of the Third Order soared, their esteem amongst the Empire’s citizens reaching its peak.

What’s more, the Minister always bestowed generous additional rewards upon them.

There was no reason for discontent, one might think.

“However, we are… conflicted. We want to know, to be sure, whose knights we truly are.”

This was a matter of conviction.

Just as profit held the highest value and reason for action for merchants, so it was for knights.

For whom do we wield our swords?

For what cause do we draw them?

Without clarity on that, knights were bound to experience turmoil.

“…Was that also the reason for the brawl with the knights of the other Order?”

Anton hesitated, unable to answer immediately.

He couldn’t bring himself to say it directly.

“Essentially, yes, but… those b*stards spoke disrespectfully about you, Commander.”

“What did they say?”

Anton remained silent in response to this question, but Francesca could guess what they’d said without hearing it.

“Did they perhaps call me Barmut’s whore?”

“………”

The embarrassed reactions of the three men suggested she had hit the mark.

“I order all three of you to confinement for the day. You are dismissed.”

“Commander…”

“I said, dismissed.”

Speaking with a touch of heat, Francesca watched the three men leave, Anton’s face filled with regret.

After they were gone, Francesca covered her forehead with her hand.

She couldn’t offer her subordinates an answer.

Because she herself didn’t know.

‘For whom… no, for *what* am I meant to wield my sword?’

The same confusion gnawing at her knight’s hearts had now found Francesca.

She didn’t know.

For what, for whom, and *why* was she wielding a sword?

Reason and feeling were pulling in opposite directions.

Her head insisted she was an Imperial Knight, but her heart cried out to wield her sword for Ervin.

‘I…’

It was then that a knock sounded at the door.

She wanted to meet no one just then, and clamped her mouth shut instinctively, but the other party paid her no mind, throwing the door open and stepping inside.

Francesca’s eyes widened in shock at the sight of them.

“Ervin?! Why…”

Why.

Why, of all times.

How had he arrived precisely when she’d been longing to see him?

Stunned by the impossible timing, Ervin spoke to Francesca in a tone that suggested it was nothing of consequence.

“I heard there was a squabble in the knightly order.”

“…I think every time, your information network is unnervingly fast.”

Dumbfounded, yet secretly hoping he’d come to offer comfort, Ervin issued an order.

“Get up. We’re going somewhere.”

“Going somewhere? Where?”

He turned away from her, as she was starting to consider the right attire and undergarments for the occasion.

“Wait, just a moment! Where are we going?”

She hurried up from her seat and followed after him, but no reply came.

Although, in truth, she didn’t really need to ask.

The destination Ervin headed towards was none other than the Imperial Palace.

Francesca, wearing a bewildered expression, followed him into the audience chamber and bowed deeply the moment she saw the Emperor seated on his throne.

Still completely in the dark, she listened to the conversation between Ervin and the Emperor.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Archduke Barmut?”

“I wish for the Third Order of Knights to be given to me.”

“So be it.”

“Yes.”

The conversation ended there.

Once more, Ervin spun on his heel and left. Francesca, after offering her respects to the Emperor, hurried after him, needing to be sure she had heard correctly.

“Wh-what did you just do?”

“Didn’t you hear? I asked His Imperial Majesty for the Third Order of Knights.”

“Why, why?!”

“They seem to be experiencing an identity crisis. I thought I’d help them solidify it.”

How on earth did he know that?

Even if Ervin had an informant planted within the Knights, or possessed the ability to read minds, this speed was absurd.

It was as if he knew from the beginning that this would happen.

“Wh-what happens now, then?”

“The current Third Order of Knights will be disbanded and reorganized as the Grand Duke’s personal guard. Armor and weapons will be re-issued accordingly.”

Ervin, muttering something about unifying the color scheme to black, proceeded to reel off the list of changes to come.

“The extra stipends will disappear, but their salaries will be doubled, so it shouldn’t matter. I’ll grant them special privileges, guaranteeing operational authority abroad and the right to act independently. Oh, and by the way, you lot will no longer belong to the Imperial Army, so you only need to listen to my orders. And should we give them political immunity as well, perhaps?”

He spoke of insane powers, any single one of which would provoke an outcry, as if they were nothing. Ervin then pointed a finger, *tch*, at Francesca, who was listening in stunned silence.

“From now on, you are both the Captain of the Guard and the Grand Duke’s Sword. Work appropriately, in proportion to what you’re paid.”