83. The Banquet Hall

The banquet proceeded smoothly.

If one were to choose the most beautiful couple of the night, it would undoubtedly be Princess Claris and Isaac.

From their first appearance, their striking beauty captured everyone’s attention.

However, after the eldest daughter, Adeline, made her entrance, they were naturally pushed out of the spotlight.

“It’s all just them, coming to flatter the elder sister, isn’t it?”

Claris, a glass in hand, smiled lightly.

The very purpose of the banquet was to keep the nobles in line.

It was a place to further solidify relationships, so most eyes were fixed on Princess Adeline.

“I’ll just be here, drinking. Isaac, go do what you need to do.”

“Then, I shall be off.”

“You must be back for the dancing?”

Isaac made his way to a corner of the banquet hall.

A large man, with a slight belly, wearing an ill-fitting uniform, was drinking alone.

His name was Drian Belfort.

The man who governed Volten, which was little more than a lawless zone.

The Baron of Volten, at first glance, exuded the aura of a chieftain.

He possessed the shrewdness to quell the ‘Volten Revolution’, when the criminal gangs lurking in Volten’s shadows all rose up in revolt at once, after all.

His weighty, raw presence carried a dangerous scent, unlike that of an ordinary knight.

He was less a participant in the opulent banquet, and more like a hunting dog, turning its head this way and that, searching for prey.

Frankly speaking, he was a man who didn’t quite belong at a royal palace’s banquet.

The Baron watched Isaac approach, a slow appraisal in his eyes.

“Well, at least someone I can have a conversation with.”

A subtle curve lifted the corner of his lips, welcoming Isaac.

It seemed those raised to nobility from common stock shared a certain understanding.

“Baron Logan, at your service.”

“I know you by reputation. Baron Volten here. Consider me the kingdom’s chambermaid, cleaning up the messes.”

Baron Volten offered a wine glass with a chuckle, perhaps intending humor.

Isaac accepted it, taking an elegant sip before steering the conversation smoothly.

“And how is Volten?”

“Planning a trip, are you? Let me assure you, unless you have a taste for narcotics or gambling, there’s little reason to come.”

“Still, you govern it, do you not? I heard it became more bearable after the revolution?”

“A dung heap is still a dung heap, even cleaned.”

Did the topic of Volten displease him?

Baron Volten deliberately brought the wine glass to his lips.

*This one won’t be swayed with sweet talk.*

Isaac decided to take a direct approach.

“Truthfully, there are people I seek in Volten.”

“…….”

“The family of a close friend. They disappeared after the revolution, I understand-“

“They’re dead, most likely.”

A resolute tone, a piercing gaze.

His grey eyes urged Isaac not to deny the truth staring him in the face.

“Do you know why Volten’s events are called a ‘Revolution’ and not a ‘Rebellion’?”

“……Because the citizens overturned the rebellion.”

“Correct. Freedom regained under the protection of the kingdom. Thus, it is called a revolution.”

Volten had seen both a ‘Rebellion’ and a ‘Revolution’.

The unilateral occupation of Volten by members of a shadowy faction, the rebellion.

Baron Volten leading the citizens to reclaim it, the revolution.

Among the nobility, naturally, were those who called it a restoration, being a kingdom territory.

Regardless, most people referred to the chain of events as the Volten Revolution.

A moment of historical triumph, born from the citizenry’s awakened consciousness and the Kingdom’s protective embrace.

The word “revolution” only serves as a flourish, amplifying its drama.

“Many died. Even if it was uncertain back then, those still missing are rightfully presumed deceased.”

“You are resolute.”

“I have witnessed that many deaths.”

Baron Volten stated with dispassion.

He still seemed to haunt the ruins of buildings, forever battling rebels.

“Well, if Baron Logan truly wishes to search, I am not opposed to assisting. Let us fix a date and you can visit.”

Baron Volten said, a touch of jest in his tone.

Then, from the banquet hall entrance, the piercing shriek of maids echoed.

Blood, jarringly out of place in a banquet, splattered.

Standing before them, a faceless squad.

Composed of translucent blue mana, they surged into the hall, wielding swords and spears forged from the very same essence.

They advanced with unnerving directness toward Princess Adeline.

The guards moved frantically, but the suddenness of the assault prevented any effective response.

“Ah.”

The swordsman, a blue afterimage at the vanguard, lunged toward Princess Adeline.

Scything past other nobles, he swiftly reached her, his blue longsword poised to strike.

*Thwack!*

A kick landed squarely, sending his body careening sideways.

Isaac, dressed in formal wear as a party guest, had found it surprisingly easy to approach.

“Princess, are you unharmed?”

“Baron Logan…!”

Princess Adeline paused, regarding Isaac, who stood before her.

“What are these beings? Some sorcery of the Transcended?”

“…I cannot say for certain.”

Because he could sense mana emanating from them. The Transcended did not wield mana.

The blue afterimage swordsman regained his stance.

His intent was clear: to cleave through Isaac and Princess Adeline with a single blow.

Grasping the longsword with both hands, he brought it down in a diagonal slash.

In a heartbeat, Isaac’s eyes flashed, snatching Princess Adeline into his arms and dodging aside.

“Eek?!”

– Damn you!

The swordsman of blue afterimages, never imagining his strike had been foreseen, spat out his frustration, thinking it merely luck.

‘A conscious being, then.’

The swordsman moved to swing his sword again.

Alas, to swing a sword twice at a nation’s princess was to test one’s luck far too greedily.

“Where do you think you-!”

Mana burst forth, scattering across the banquet hall like mist. The beings of blue afterimages fragmented, fading like smoke.

That they were suppressed in a mere matter of seconds was, of course, thanks to…

“Such pathetic games-!”

…the Grand Master, Greatsword now drawn.

His speed was astonishing.

He moved, sword whirling like a watermill, cleaving through the air, and in an instant, the assailants were bisected.

The last remaining swordsman, too, could not withstand a single blow from the Grand Master, vanishing completely.

– Keh ha! Don’t you cower!

Even as he split in half and dissolved, the knight of afterimages left behind laughter and scorn.

– We had our fun.

* * *

A few hours later.

The opulent banquet hall was a scene of chaos, few remaining within.

“What they used was a magic called ‘Conscious Projection’,”

The Mage of the Magic Tower said, surveying the scene.

“However, it’s a defunct magic. With the invention of magical tools for communicating with those far away, it simply became unnecessary.”

“…….”

“Not only is it difficult to control, but the preparation is quite complex. Moreover, it only creates an image, lacking mass, so it cannot be used to harm others.”

Claris chuckled mirthlessly at the mage’s explanation.

“So, let’s summarize-“

She gestured towards the entrance of the hall, standing in its center.

“Without any warning from the outside, twenty-odd soldiers suddenly appeared at the entrance to the banquet hall.”

A sigh, that’s all that escapes.

How much care had been taken with security for today’s banquet?

External defenses were truly airtight.

But, the assassin who seemed to simply *appear*, as if dropped from the ceiling at the banquet hall entrance—no one could have foreseen that.

He entered the hall with such brazenness, it was almost bewildering.

“And those fellows used magic that’s practically ancient, obsolete. Originally meant only for simple communication, not even capable of harming anyone?”

Claris clutches her throbbing head, wearing a complicated expression.

“Does this mean they could suddenly show up anywhere, without warning?”

These were the ones who’d so casually bypassed the stringent guards to wreak havoc inside.

This meant that without 24/7, skin-to-skin protection, it was inevitably dangerous.

“They likely won’t get away with it so easily. The mages of the Magic Tower will do their utmost to discover how they entered,”

The mages of the Magic Tower, bound to protect the Royal Palace by contract.

They were in the midst of reaffirming their commitment, knowing their contract would be jeopardized if they couldn’t prove their worth here.

“These are the people you mentioned, aren’t they?”

At Claris’s question, the Grand Mage nodded.

“Those ‘Patrons’ who abandoned humanity and sided with the Transcendents… the method they used to contact me was through those same ethereal forms.”

Of course, the Grand Mage added, he hadn’t known at the time it would be used for terrorism like this.

Even so, his expression remains grim.

“They are like rats. Above all, they are obsessed with concealing themselves; finding them will not be easy.”

Princess Adeline added her piece as well.

“It felt almost like a taunt. *Try to find us if you can*.”

The man’s voice, dripping with mockery as he’d said they were just playing around, still echoed vividly in her ears.

The audacity of those who infiltrated the Royal Palace as if it were their own living room.

Furthermore, they pulled it off without suffering a single scratch.

They had to be found.

But all that remained was the scattered, fading mana.

Another crisis had befallen the Royal Palace, and a tense atmosphere descended.

“By identifying the position of the hand holding the sword, we can determine the length of the hilt.”

Isaac, who had been listening silently, finally spoke.

“The blade length was approximately 140cm. Long, even for a longsword. Conversely, his steps were light, not heavy. Assuming he wasn’t a knight…”

“……Huh?”

Claris tilted her head, staring at Isaac.

Not just her, but the others also fixed their gazes on him, as if asking what he was going on about.

Yet, Isaac, lost in thought, continued to speak as if in a trance.

“He wielded it with supple grace, responding to the slightest movement. Each strike layered with feints. The way he diagonally slashed while employing psychological warfare is characteristic of the South. Because they duel with light clothing, almost dancing with flamboyant skill due to the heat, it’s even called *Yuhigum*, the play-sword.”

“However, I’m uneasy about him using a longsword, considering he’s supposedly from the South. As far as I know, every Southern family that utilizes a longsword are knights.”

“But his combat style wasn’t that of a knight. My guess is that he’s either a second or third son of a noble, who struck out on his own to become a wandering knight. Wandering knights take their family’s swordsmanship as a base, then evolve their style through external experience.”

“This would also explain why there were an excessive amount of feints for Southern swordsmanship, to the point of feeling crude.”

“Conversely, among the ones who were trailing from behind, there was someone who used Caldias spear techniques. The spear techniques of the North are versatile and well-known, but… they wouldn’t have easily spread all the way to the South.”

“……”

“……”

“……”

As the others stared blankly, Isaac arrived at a conclusion, flashing a refreshing yet gentle smile.

“Search for a mercenary company. They’ll have diverse backgrounds, and it’s likely *they* are a company with someone from a Southern noble family that uses a longsword.”

Claris, having listend to his explanation in a daze, involuntarily clapped her hands.

“After seeing in the report that you found out Blackthorn was a traitor in the North… just by witnessing transcendental swordsmanship, I honestly thought it was baloney.”

“……”

“Sorry, it was real, wasn’t it.”

Foolishly.

All along, he wasn’t one to have learned the sword from books.

* * *

“Search for a mercenary company. They’ll have diverse backgrounds, and it’s likely *they* are a company with someone from a Southern noble family that uses a longsword.”

“……”

A gentle smile that accentuated his striking features, a bright voice.

Not only that, but the knowledge to identify the culprit after seeing only a few exchanges of swords, and the martial prowess to be the first to protect her on the field.

The description of him as the one who slashed through the Era of Hellmund and ushered in a new horizon for the kingdom was hardly an exaggeration.

“Ah.”

Something was amiss.

Princess Adeline simply couldn’t take her eyes off of Baron Logan.

In the end.

Hidden behind my sister’s voice, bursting with excitement as she urged me to search quickly.

“Inform Lord Logan,”

He whispered to his guard.

“Ask him to come, for a brief while, tonight.”