Chapter 149 – Red Wax
Inside Cardium Castle, the Hall of Swords.
Silver candles were placed at regular intervals along the walls, small flas burning steadily. The morial service was clean and without excess. Only the scent of incense and a hymn settled low across the room. Because it was a gathering for one person alone, the crowd held its breath.
Upon the altar, Imran Akran's armor had been laid. The suit, not long since the blood had been wiped from it, flickered coolly, as though still rembering the battlefield. When the priests finished their short prayer, a frost-like silence filled the hall.
Calix stepped slowly forward toward the altar. With each step of his boots, the marble floor gave a quiet ring.
"Receive the sword of Sir Akran."
Sier Lagrin's voice rang out, asured and calm. Though Imran's sword had already beco his, he knelt in silence and accepted the scabbard.
The nobles of the capital watched the scene and let out quiet sighs.
"And so the power of the Empire has fallen into the hands of a foreigner."
"I won't say I have no complaints… but who would stop him? He has the support of the southeastern nobles. Marquis Ashapel is rely watching for his mont, and I've heard Duke Akron is in negotiations behind the scenes."
The soldiers raised ceremonial swords in salute. Calix rose from where he knelt and drew the Master's sword. Sunlight spilled in through a gap in the window, t the blade's surface, and shattered into fragnts.
It seed an unremarkable act, yet it carried aning within it. At least, the nobles thought so. The Mountain Rabbits standing behind Calix drew sharp breaths on the spot, and the eyes of the alliance knights hardened.
Sier stepped forward one pace.
"His responsibilities are now yours."
It was a brief declaration. Yet those words reflected the unified opinion of all who stood gathered before the altar. It had been notarized by the Kriya Order, and not one among the knights raised an objection. From this point forward, no one here would speak of the void left by Imran.
That place had already been filled.
The hymn rang out once more. Imran's official funeral continued—not with grandeur, but clean and composed.
The nobles watched as Calix gave a respectful nod toward the altar. With tens of thousands of citizens lining the streets, he had firmly established his authority as successor.
"What is Count Lugar of the West doing? He's an ambitious man—he won't simply stand by and watch this situation unfold."
To the question of the Emperor's faction noble, his longti friend shook his head. Even a reproachful edge colored what followed.
"Did I not say so? There is no force anywhere capable of standing against him. The citizens of the capital are living on bread handed out by the Mountain Rabbits. If evil cos pouring in from the east again, they'll gather under the na Calix."
Of course, the one who had asked had his own reasons.
"……I'm not trying to oppose him. I'm looking to see whether there's a role for us in this new tide."
"……"
"Or do you think there's not even that much room? Even if Sir Belgrado steps forward?"
The na of Sevi Belgrado, another Master of the Empire, was now being tossed into the air—yet the skepticism on the other man's face only deepened.
'How cunning the hearts of n are.'
How long had it been since they'd slipped free from the shadow of death, and already their inner greed was laid bare? It wasn't that he couldn't understand—but their failure to see reality for what it was was the problem.
The middle-aged man turned his gaze toward the entrance of the shrine. Out front, rcenaries were distributing supplies. Food wasn't sufficient, but it was enough to keep the city breathing.
"Yes, Sir Belgrado is there. But does it matter? He is a Master—yet he is not here at this mont, is he?"
"Well, his injuries haven't fully healed—"
"Was Sir Akran unhard? He stepped forward knowing he would die, and fought to the very end. That man called Calix is no different. If a wicked force bears down again, under whose na do you think people will gather?"
His friend fell silent—though it had never been a question asked in expectation of an answer.
Just then, along the side of the hall, between the columns, those of high standing had gathered. Royce and Volga stood at the center, exchanging words with high-ranking nobles including Marquis Ashapel.
A brief back-and-forth passed between them—yet even to the naked eye, it was clear the Mountain Rabbits held the upper hand in conversation.
It was a gathering that the lesser nobles dared not approach.
"……You're right. Even the high nobles are growing restless."
"The Mountain Rabbits' promissory notes are moving everything. If there's any hope of protecting their territories, they need to secure a promise, no matter what it takes. Word has it that for every seal pressed, a village is being handed over."
"No, that's how far the rcenaries' influence has stretched? Hmm, well—that man Calix certainly warrants it. What I an is, the Emperor is still……"
And then, the words trailed off. However diminished the imperial standing had beco, it was too devastating to say aloud.
But it wasn't sothing that couldn't be said.
"As you say, what becos of the Emperor hasn't been decided. Whether he ends up a puppet, or is forced from his seat. But one thing is certain."
"……?"
"Either way, the one deciding that won't be the Emperor."
***
That evening, inside the Imperial Palace.
The imperial treasury was a place only an extrely limited few—those with permission—could enter. Yet when the Mountain Rabbits approached, the guards quietly removed their helts and stepped aside.
The golden emblems on their pauldrons glead, but not a trace of wariness could be seen on their faces. The treasury steward even offered a courteous escort.
Clank!
The seal chanism on the entrance was broken open. A tallic scent spread through the cold air, followed by a thick drift of aged fragrance.
A vast space filled with treasures.
"The implantation room is on the right."
"There's an implantation room inside the treasury?"
"Neural Accelerators cannot be removed and carried out, which is why."
In the anti, Volga stood with his mouth agape, taking in his surroundings. The ceiling arched high above, supported by a row of marble columns. Along every wall hung woven tapestries embroidered with gold thread, and between them were displayed the weapons of past emperors.
Treasure chests adorned with ivory were arranged in tiered steps, and wherever one's eyes fell, jewels glittered and caught the gaze.
At the deepest place of all stood a suit of armor plated with dragon scales, and the first emperor's crown rested inside a glass case—with a warning stone of black rock set before it.
At this, the dwarf Basim offered a brief comnt.
"What an absolute ss."
He nudged the solid-gold weapons aside with his foot as he passed. There were plenty of things worth money, but nothing that qualified as a proper tool.
And even that thought—asured against the price of a comrade's life—seed like nothing remarkable.
Crash!
Soon after, a scabbard Basim had tossed sent a mound of treasure toppling.
"Master! Do you know how much that's worth?!"
"What of it—expensive rubbish."
"That's exactly why we should be careful with it!"
A sharp snort followed—and then, only briefly. He began carefully sorting out equipnt that the Mountain Rabbits could use. Among the items were cursed swords, and shields bearing the blessings of an ancient age.
"Weapons with mana flowing through them—if I'd known it would co to this, I should've brought a mage along."
Zahira muttered a short exclamation as she examined a weapon passed to her by Basim. The dwarf pulled a surly expression but ultimately said nothing.
Before their eyes, the real treasure had just revealed itself.
"Oh, good heavens."
Hadiya let out an exclamation on behalf of them all. Atop a table sat dozens—no, hundreds of glass vials in abundance. Their surfaces were etched with geotric patterns, and the swirling liquid within radiated a luminous glow.
Physical Enhancent Agents.
Items worth a castle each, per unit. Not all were of the highest grade, but these were things that couldn't be obtained even with money.
"Is this real? Isn't it just a fake display?"
"Well, you can just check."
"Huh?"
The mont everyone revealed their disbelief—Hadiya, with an unbothered expression, reached out and pulled free one of the glass vials. She pressed her finger against the top portion, and click—a needle jutted downward from the base.
Stab.
Just as she had once been taught, she plunged it straight into Volga's neck.
Glug~ Glug~
The essence of mana flowed into his veins. The mont his face flushed red, an explosive chain reaction ignited from within his body.
"Volga!"
"Mm, so it's genuine?"
Zahira furrowed her brow and checked Volga's color, and Vice-captain Marik shot Hadiya a reproachful look—but Hadiya paid it little mind.
Even if she'd injected a high concentration of energy, it wouldn't be enough to shatter the body.
More than that, her gaze drifted toward the table's surroundings.
Upon countless display stands, Neural Accelerators hung in rows. Forms of blue tal, resembling centipedes. Most appeared to be Niborian-style, but a portion of them clearly showed signs of having been plundered from other nations.
At that mont, Adrian stepped forward and offered an explanation.
"The ones engraved with platinum markings are the Balder Pretorian. A high-tier model of the Niboria Empire—only an extrely small number of individuals are permitted to use them."
"And this one?"
"Looks like it was taken from the Astria Kingdom. The Luminas Crusader. I've heard that in that region, it's mainly used by top-rank knights."
The Mountain Rabbits examined each piece of equipnt in turn and fell silent.
They could have new ones implanted if they wished. Yet rather than pure joy, an indescribable expression settled across their faces.
"All of this…… was just sitting stuffed away in a treasury this whole ti."
Without anyone in particular being the one to start, hollow laughter broke from each of them. Items ant to defeat the wicked had been gathering dust, preserved to protect power.
And at the end of that wrongdoing stood one person.
Calix was on his way to et that very person.
***
The northern corridor of the imperial inner palace was unnervingly quiet.
Through that stillness, the footsteps of three people rang out. Calix led the way, with Royce and Gregor following behind.
The imperial guards lowered their gazes and allowed them passage. No one questioned whose orders were being followed. The mont one asked, it would only prove that their own master's authority had already crumbled.
And so, with no one to block their path, they ca to a stop before the final door.
The sole remaining attendant murmured, as though pleading.
"His Majesty is…… Alone. He wished for a private audience."
Calix accepted not even that. In silence, he held the man's gaze, pressing him to open the door. With trembling hands, the attendant pulled at the handle.
tal fittings interlocked—and the innermost chamber of the palace, kept shut for so long, revealed itself.
The mont they crossed the threshold, the air changed. A space not especially grand. A man who had once ruled the Empire sat upon his throne. His hair had grown long, approaching a disheveled state, and the skin beneath his eyes was deeply sunken with exhaustion.
The Emperor spoke first.
"Power is like red wax. It takes shape while hot, and once cooled, becos a single symbol."
He asked, in a voice grown thoroughly hoarse.
"What seal have you co all this way to press?"
Calix did not answer. He simply stood still, looking up at the old man seated on the throne. Irritable, filled with rage—yet.
Truly pitiful.
Of course, that could not be a pardon.
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