88. Another History

“Lord Baron! There’s a disturbance in the city—!”

Baron Volten, hearing the report, nodded impassively.

He had felt a chill ever since the surveillance reported that Baron Logan was spending time at an inn with a woman.

‘Baron Logan cannot be so easily figured.’

This was the man who had slain Arundel of Helmun.

He couldn’t possibly be so foolish as to come all this way just to spend his days with a woman in an inn room.

“Let us go.”

The Baron promptly changed his attire.

His clothing, reminiscent of a hunter’s gear, was the same he wore when he led the revolution.

A cold night air greeted him.

The air felt just like this on the day of the revolution.

[Let’s gooo! Wipe them out!]

[Give us the medicine, you b*stards!]

[We crave Freedom! Ah, only Freedom!]

The ideals embraced back then still cling to the heart, a thorny rose.

[There it is! There! That’s the stuff!]

[Mine! It’s mine, I tell you! Get lost, all of you!]

[Filthy junkies! I’m not like you! I’m ruined by art and literature, a tragic-]

Even the joyous screams of the people after the revolution’s success echo faintly in his ears.

– Stop! At this rate, we’ll all perish together!

– We must protect our Volten!

– I will distribute it! So please, just stop! All of us-!

Yet, what he had become was merely a hypocrite.

– You can do drugs for free, equally! I’ll take responsibility!

After the successful revolution.

His old voice, once struggling to stem the tide of frenzy, madness, and chaos, still grated on him.

But if he were to return to the past, could he even offer a solution that surpassed that?

‘This isn’t the future I envisioned, not what I dreamed of when I embraced those ideals.’

Baron Volten, still without answers, merely prolonged the life of this dying land.

“Tell the Bellingwaltz Mercenary Company to leave immediately.”

Finally, relaying the order for the mercenary company, hidden at the request of his patrons, to depart.

The Baron headed straight for the city center.

It seemed that today, a different kind of wind would blow through Volten.

* * *

Before long.

“Gnnngh!”

“It hurts…….”

“He, help me.”

By the time there were more people groaning on the ground than rushing forward.

The crowd finally faltered, recoiling. Some were terrified, but others hadn’t given up.

They exchanged glances, plotting to swarm again at the first sign of weakness, or to cooperate with those around them.

“Enough, thrashing about changes nothing.”

The Grandmaster warned, his voice uncharacteristically low.

Beneath the moonlit sky, the Grandmaster stepped forward, and asked them:

“What, in the heavens, has twisted you so? I thought loyalty a virtue beyond reproach, but witnessing you now… my heart wavers.”

“……”

“Do not, I implore you, taint me with your depravity.”

The Grandmaster wasn’t merely speaking about these Volten folk before him.

‘Torn between the Transcended and humanity.’

They wouldn’t betray all they stood for by siding with the Transcended, but the thought of defending *this*…doubt gnawed at their convictions.

This could not stand.

Just as Isaac was about to intervene…

“Lord Baron is here, oh thank the heavens!”

“Ah! Our Lord Baron!”

“The hero of Volten!”

“Punish these wicked souls!”

“Let not the Kingdom’s refuse defile our land!”

As if guided by some unseen hand, the crowd parted, forming a clear path.

Through it strode the Baron Volten.

He was not wearing the noble finery Isaac had seen earlier, but leather and furs, ready for a hunt. A bow rested across his back, a hand axe bobbed at his hip.

Isaac couldn’t help but smile wryly at the sight. The impression of a hunting hound suited him perfectly.

“That attire becomes you, Baron Volten.”

“Come with me. Baron Logan has located the family of Millie Marceau, as you requested.”

His directness revealed a certain character, a man who did not mince his words.

Yet, it also felt as if he was deliberately avoiding the current issue.

“This situation seems to warrant some explanation.”

Isaac gestured toward the body-filled sacks and the frenzied townsfolk. The Baron sighed.

“I will explain everything. Let us be on our way.”

He turned his gaze to the crowd. They retreated once more.

The sight of them bowing deeply, seeing them off, bordered on pure mania.

“Let’s just go.”

Lest the Grandmaster, too, should begin to change here.

The thought struck Isaac, sudden and sharp: getting out of here came first.

“……”

Yet, even as Isaac pulled him along,

the Archmage’s gaze flickered back, drawn to the throng that had swallowed them.

* * *

Back at the Baron’s manor.

A dark room, lit only by a single candle, the Baron stared pensively out the window.

The emotion in his gaze was… complex, needing perhaps a moment to find its voice.

One might have expected him to light a smoke,

but instead, untouched, the Baron sighed and began to speak.

“Volten is a city of addicts.”

“…….”

It wasn’t entirely surprising.

During the fight earlier, Isaac had seen many people clearly under the influence.

There were degrees, but to Isaac, they all seemed much the same.

“Drink, gambling, women… those are mere distractions. In the end, it’s the drug that truly matters. And I am the one who provides it to them, regularly.”

“You are aware, of course, that drugs are strictly forbidden by the kingdom.”

“Without it, Volten simply could not exist.”

This was, essentially, an admission of criminal activity.

But the Baron of Volten spoke through gritted teeth.

“This city, you see. The seed of all that happens here is, ultimately, the drug. The underworld rebellion? That only occurred when the kingdom threatened to clean up Volten’s back alleys. The drug trade was the underworld’s largest enterprise, after all.”

“The revolution that I led? That was only possible because the underworld, in its control of Volten, had driven the price of the drug sky-high.”

“The reason this city continues to stand? Because I provide the drug, free of charge.”

Conversely,

the free supply of the drug had decimated the dealers.

Now, Isaac began to understand the blind loyalty they showed the Baron of Volten.

The addicts would fight tooth and nail to protect the one who gave them their fix, without price.

To them, the Baron was the center, the one who led and defended their paradise.

“Do you understand now? Volten is that kind of city. A precarious place, always on the verge of collapse.”

The Baron slowly turned to face him.

Then, he spoke plainly to Isaac.

“Even so, I maintain Volten. Because I believe it is my duty.”

I know nothing of his past.

Nor can I readily understand his desire to preserve Volten, even if warped.

But of one thing I am certain.

He is not a man easily swayed.

Everyone has their reasons.

Everyone has their story.

Just as Isaac harbors the secret, the past, of his return, so too must the Baron Volten have a reason he cannot abandon this land.

But from another’s perspective, it is mere obstinacy.

“So, with the aid of these patrons, you sought the assassination of the princess?”

“……”

Baron Volten’s eyes flicker slightly.

I had intended to simply transition to matters of Volten’s secrets.

For Isaac is supposedly here only to search for the family of a woman named Milli.

“Indeed, you have not come merely to seek the family of a friend, have you?”

Baron Volten murmured in a lowered tone, his demeanor shifting.

Before I knew it, his hand rested upon the axe at his hip.

“The medicine is running low.”

“……”

“The people demand ever greater quantities, yet the stores we amassed are now dwindling.”

The drugs seized while eliminating the pushers during the revolution.

A vast quantity, but not limitless.

“It was then that *they* arrived. Introducing themselves as patrons, they promised to supply the medicine.”

His speech quickened.

An obsession, disguised as conviction, began to etch itself around his eyes.

That he would seek to assassinate even a kingdom’s princess for the sake of the city he had lived in his entire life…

Signifies that rational thought is no longer within his grasp.

*Shring!*

The axe is drawn.

“This land that the kingdom abandoned—! Wasn’t it *I* who kept it going?”

He must have thought he could just swing an axe, with no chance of me blocking it.

But he chose the wrong opponent.

The Grandmaster, who was listening from behind, moved instantly.

*Thwack!*

The Grandmaster’s straight kick struck the Baron squarely in the abdomen.

The Baron tumbled backward, rolling away.

No matter that he was a revolutionary with some experience.

This one was a master beyond approach.

The difference in skill was enough to treat him like a child’s plaything.

“You knew it was only self-satisfaction. You knew the end would come sooner or later.”

To put it coldly.

Baron Volten wasn’t going to last.

It wasn’t so different from force-feeding medicine to a terminally ill patient to keep them alive.

They might be breathing, but the rot within was inevitable.

“Kuh-heuk!”

Clutching the area he’d been struck, the Baron lifted his head.

“You think I didn’t know the end was coming?! Even if it’s ugly, even if it falls apart, I kept Volten going for as long as I could, and I took the responsibility—!”

“Spare me the martyr act.”

“……!”

“You’re just a hypocrite. I have no desire to hear your sob stories.”

Staggering to his feet, the Baron forced the corners of his trembling mouth upwards.

“If you had heard the screams of that day, would you have chosen differently?! That day called revolution! The entire city was almost destroyed! If I, if I hadn’t taken responsibility and promised them a supply of medicine—!”

“Madness piled upon madness. The revolutionaries were on the verge of becoming rebels once more! I held the leash and stopped them—!”

Tears welled in the eyes of Baron Volten as he poured out his words.

The man I’d taken for a burly hunting dog was shaking, as if he’d outlived his usefulness and was now about to be put down.

“……Yes, you’re right.”

A sigh, bitter as the first smoke of the year.

“I knew it was hypocrisy.”

Just.

“He had merely looked away, and for that, he watched them die, bearing the weight of it.”

The Baron’s axe swung wide.

He charged the Archmage once more, but collapsed, undone, before he could reach him.

Thud!

“Khhh…!”

The Baron’s groan, laced with sobs, burst forth.

“If I die?! If I die here, then Volten will be plunged into chaos! The whole city is a colossal opium den, you understand!”

“…”

“Your choices are but two. You can cleave me in twain, and then watch Volten transform into a riot, with hundreds dying…”

Or, you can leave them to their drug-addled haze, and let them embrace a quiet death.

“…”

Isaac slowly approached the Baron.

Perhaps he still didn’t grasp the full weight of the consequences his choice would unleash.

But.

The war with the Ascendants was nigh.

He would not hesitate.

The razor-sharp axe was in Isaac’s hand. Looking up at it, the Baron gritted his teeth, offering a farewell.

“Welcome…to damn Volten.”

*Crack!*

The axe blade mercilessly bit into its master’s neck.

Looking down at the Baron’s head rolling across the floor, Isaac gathered his breath and spoke.

“Would you be so kind as to retrieve my sword?”

“…It will be a trial.”

“I’ll manage. I’ll try.”

The Archmage turned slowly.

He did not know what end the coming chaos would bring.

‘Difficult indeed.’

For now, as asked, the Archmage started toward the inn.

Volten begins to flow once more.

The ‘Volten Revolt’ – a revolt sparked by the underworld figures who, anticipating a royal crackdown on drug trafficking, took over the city.

The black marketeers holding Volten captive, they’d jacked the prices of medicine sky-high. And so, the citizens rose up again – the “Volten Revolution.”

And then.

Lord Logan declared Drian Belfort, the so-called Baron of Volten, complicit in the “attempted assassination of the Princess,” and summarily executed him on the spot.

The citizens, learning of Drian Belfort’s death, erupted in renewed rebellion.

Lord Logan quelled it, but.

The event soon to unfold would be forever remembered as the ‘Volten Massacre.’