Chapter 40: The Last of Those Who Were Stained by the Red Stone (1)

The third day, the final banquet began.

It was a continuation of the state meeting that had taken place in the morning and afternoon.

Nobles, who were about to return to their respective fiefs, exchanged farewells, and the banquet was held to discuss future plans.

The ladies and their attendants were absent.

They were enjoying a separate, modest banquet in another hall.

Only the heads of noble families gathered in the banquet hall.

In the large hall on the first floor of the annex, the nobles were enjoying the banquet in a more subdued atmosphere than on the first and second days.

At one corner of the hall, Grand Duchess Lucillan sat alone, savoring her wine.

Behind her stood a knight, his cheeks painted with two red lines, indicating his northern origins.

Approaching her, Rosel asked,
“Grand Duchess Lucillan, may I sit?”
“As you wish.”

Lucillan, now looking toward retirement, seemed uninterested in the festivities of the young nobles, glancing at them indifferently.

Her gaze toward Rosel was no different.

She had only participated in this birthday party because it was the celebration of the daughter of the most influential duke in the kingdom, the closest ally of Brikal, who had once exiled her to the north.

She only wished to return to her own land, even if it was barren and cold, it was still a warmer refuge than the political intrigues of the capital.

Of course, the humiliation of being exiled still lingered in her heart, deepening the bitterness, but what could an old veteran like her do?

Now, she could only adapt to the times.

Suddenly reminded of that day’s disgrace, Lucillan attempted to pour more wine, but Rosel politely took the bottle from her.

“May I pour you a glass?”

“Please fill it to the brim.”

As Rosel poured the wine, he also filled his own glass and took a sip. On the final day of the banquet, he was finally enjoying the wine.

The cold winds toward Esil would no longer blow toward him.

“What is your business, Duke Rosel?”

However, Lucillan, with her experience, seemed uninterested in prolonging the conversation.

Rosel, too, had no intention of prolonging the pleasantries, so he got straight to the point.

“Could I meet with you in my office tomorrow morning?”

“…I will leave early tomorrow morning, as soon as the dawn breaks.”

“Then, could you stop by before you leave? I will be waiting.”

Lucillan frowned slightly, sounding irritated.

“What could a tired old woman like me have for you?”

“I have something to discuss.”

“Couldn’t it be done here?”

“…It’s about Brikal.”

Lucillan’s eyelids shot open as she looked at Rosel, startled.

Could it be that her ears had deceived her? Rosel had just referred to the king as “Brikal.”

No one ever spoke the king’s name directly, so she doubted her ears for a moment.

“W-what did you just say?”
“As you heard. Could I meet with you tomorrow before dawn in my office?”

Lucillan quickly recovered, looking away nonchalantly, but her heart was pounding.

It had been a long time since something so intriguing stirred her interest.

Among the nobles loyal to the king, Rosel had always seemed different to Lucillan.

His aura was oddly unfamiliar to her, a strange sense of dissonance that seemed separate from Brikal’s.

Though she trusted her instincts, she wouldn’t lower her guard.

She had seen too many treacherous plots among the noble families.

And she knew Rosel was someone who could hide his true intentions better than anyone.

To converse with such a person, one had to hide their own intentions as well.

After savoring her wine, Lucillan set her glass down.

“…It seems like an important matter. I will visit you in the afternoon.

It’s better when it’s quiet. I hope it’s not a waste of time.”

Rosel smiled faintly.

As if to say he was confident it wouldn’t be a waste of time, Rosel lightly raised his wine glass and stood up, giving a small bow to Grand Duchess Lucillan.

Thus, on the final night of the third day’s banquet, the nobles gathered to plan for the future.

Social connections, alliance agreements, recommendations for guardians, marriage arrangements, and more.

Various arrangements were being made, but among them, the only one planning a “revolution” was Rosel.

“Then please enjoy the last banquet.”

And so, the final night of the banquet came to a close.

As the night ripened, Brikal, too, became heavily intoxicated.

“Where in the world has that Sregon gone?”

Brikal asked his aide, but the aide, too, seemed at a loss, shaking his head.

Sregon had disappeared like a ghost after the first night, and no matter how much they searched the mansion, he was nowhere to be found.

But Brikal quickly brushed it off, as if it was of no importance. To him, Sregon was not significant enough to dwell on.

“Ah, he’s probably passed out somewhere. Hey, who wants to play a game for an increase in title today?!”

A game for an increase in title.

For those hungry for power, it was as much of a celebration as the feast itself, so there was no reason to refuse.

One by one, they raised their hands without dignity, turning the scene into a chaotic marketplace.

“Hahaha! Good, good! You! Baron Belon! You’re first!”

“It’s an honor, Your Majesty!”

An increase in title would expand the territory and remove military restrictions.

For those seeking to expand their power, it was a sweet deal.

Baron Belon grinned and quickly ran to Brikal, bowing his head in respect.

But soon, the grin faded from his face.

“The game is simple. You just have to arm wrestle with Sir Duvel and win.”

“…What?”

Arm wrestling with the King’s bodyguard.

Not just any knight, but ‘Duvel.’

It was practically impossible to win against him, who had reached a state of nirvana through pure physical awakening.

Thus, Baron Belon’s face quickly turned into a frown.

“Hahaha!”

“Belon, you poor fool! Hahaha!”

Everyone mocked and laughed at Belon, who had become the object of ridicule.

He was the sacrifice, making the festive atmosphere even more heated.

“Your Majesty, the game must be fair.”

Duvel, standing behind the laughing Brikal, spoke up.

Though Brikal’s expression had already twisted into a scowl, he was too drunk to notice.

“What’s wrong with that? The game is for fun, isn’t it? Haha!”

Duvel’s fist trembled.

It was so frustrating that he could barely stand it.

Even though he tried to find a tiny bit of hope in this sorry state, it was nowhere to be found.

The king, betting a title increase on a trivial game, the baron, eagerly running to participate, the absurdity of it all—the political chaos had Duvel sighing repeatedly.

“Hurry up! What are you doing, Duvel!”

But with Brikal’s urging, Duvel finally rolled up his sleeves and approached the table.

He swallowed his anger, his temples throbbing, but he knew it wasn’t the right time yet.

Of course, he knew well that he had contributed to this lamentable state.

He had been a lackey, trailing behind Brikal, and as the captain of the royal guard, he had also borne responsibility for protecting his lord in this corrupt age.

Until now, he had believed he was maintaining his purity by guarding the Red Lotus Pond, but now he realized he had been submerged in the waters all along.

However, now that he understood the situation, he knew that accepting this reality only worsened the responsibility, so he suppressed his bitterness and sat at the table.

He was waiting for the right time.

To receive the full price of atonement, one had to be patient.

And in the end, the value of that atonement would be passed on to Emilia. Even if it was late, he would do it for her, now more than ever.

The price of sin had to be paid in full.

“Pl-please, take it easy, Sir Duvel,” Baron Belon whispered as he gripped hands and assumed the arm-wrestling stance.

However, Duvel tightened his grip as if to crush the baron’s hand, and the Baron twisted his body like an octopus being cooked.

“Ugh…!”

“Ah, Duvel. Take it easy,” Brikal called out, ordering Duvel to let the baron win, but Duvel didn’t respond.

He simply glared at Belon with burning eyes full of determination.

He wasn’t planning on losing to anyone now, except for Duke Rosel.

“Alright then, let’s begin!”

The assistant, who had taken on the role of the referee, called for the start, and at that moment…

CRACK!

Baron Belon’s hand smashed into the table, driving it down, and unable to resist the rebound, the baron’s body spun through the air before slamming into the ground.

THUD!

“Ughhh!”

The event unfolded in an instant.

Pieces of the broken table flew in all directions, and the hall was filled with a cloud of dust.

A cold silence settled over the room.

The atmosphere was so still that even the sound of an owl outside the window could be heard, and a chilling stillness took over the banquet hall.

Clap, clap, clap.

Duvel, looking down at the fallen Belon with contempt, clapped his hands to shake off the dust.

He saw himself in the fallen Belon.

The pathetic version of himself.

The cowardly version of himself.

The servile version of himself.

Crushing Belon was like crushing the version of himself from that day.

Duvel looked at Brikal.

His gaze was chilling, and although he couldn’t use magic, there was an ominous red aura seemingly rising from his back.

“Du, Duvel… Victory!”

If the oblivious assistant hadn’t raised Duvel’s hand and declared him the winner, it seemed like something might have gone terribly wrong.

Clap, clap… clap, clap, clap.

The others hesitated, looking around, and clapped their hands.

They hoped the tension would break, as Duvel, apologizing and saying he had used too much force, was hoping they would laugh as they usually did.

But Duvel’s actions had already dominated the atmosphere of the banquet hall.

“…That’s enough now, Your Majesty. Titles are awarded to nobles who have skill and reputation, not through a mere game. Is a game above the law?”

But Duvel didn’t stop there—he boldly criticized Brikal.

A royal guard, who was supposed to obey even the king’s orders without question, had crossed the line.

A royal guard, whose duty was absolute obedience, had now spoken out against the king’s enlightenment, something even the saint, regent, or great sage wouldn’t do.

The rare applause that had continued up until now stopped completely.

The air in the hall had become so tense that it froze like ice.

‘…Sir Duvel.’

Among the crowd, Rosel was present.

He sat in the back, observing the nobles’ entertainment and drinking wine, but the sight of Duvel behaving differently from usual caused him to sharpen his gaze.

It was different.

Duvel had become a completely different person.

Rosel had suspected there might be a change in Duvel, given his earlier apology to Esil, but now Duvel exceeded all expectations.

‘Sir Duvel, what are you thinking…?’

The tension in the air grew unbearable.

Brikal looked at Duvel with wide, shocked eyes. Duvel, in turn, stared at him with a cold, murderous gaze.

The royal guards surrounding the banquet hall were also watching Duvel, staying on alert in case they needed to draw their swords at any moment.

Of course, everyone knew that even if they all attacked, they wouldn’t be able to defeat Duvel.

But Brikal, though surprised, was not flustered.

He knew well that Duvel was someone who would lay down his life for his oath to his father, Hyrion.

“Ha, haha… Our Sir Duvel must have gotten a little carried away. Surely, I didn’t actually offer a title as a reward, did I? It was just a game, haha!”

Fortunately, Brikal found a way to defuse the situation, laughing boisterously and tossing a joke toward Duvel.

The nobles joined in, trying to lighten the atmosphere, which had become as tense as walking on thin ice.

“Ha, haha. Sir Duvel, you seem to have a lot of energy lately.”

“Indeed, Sir Duvel. Even the Empire’s knights wouldn’t be able to handle him.”

Duvel glanced around at the sycophants, then bowed his head to them.

More precisely, he was bowing to “Rosel,” sitting behind the crowd.

He, too, was painfully aware of his mistake.

He regretted causing a scene in front of the respected Duke Rosel.

“I apologize. I got excited about playing a game with the nobles and made a mistake. Please forgive me.”

Duvel’s gaze met Rosel’s, and Rosel nodded slightly in response.

Duvel then turned his body and bowed his head toward Brikal.

He didn’t want to ruin his atonement with rash behavior.

Now was not the time to show his fangs.

“I apologize, Your Majesty. I think I got carried away with the atmosphere of the banquet. I acted beyond my place, and I sincerely apologize. What’s more… I am not such a narrow-minded man. I’ll heed your counsel.”

“I will gladly accept any reprimand.”

“…Thank you for your generosity. May I go outside for a breath of fresh air?”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Ah, you can’t hold your liquor, can you? It seems you’ve been drunk by the scent of wine. Go on and get some fresh air.”

Duvel bowed and left the banquet hall.

Once again, silence returned.

It was Rosel who broke the silence at the perfect moment.

Standing up from his seat, he walked through the crowd and spoke.

“Isn’t this a rare opportunity to enjoy without worrying about the ladies’ attention? Gellion, bring in the dancers.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Gellion snapped his fingers at Damian, who was standing at the entrance, and Damian opened the door.

Then, the most beautiful dancers from the territory, dressed in mesh masks and revealing outfits, filed in.

It was Rosel’s trump card, prepared for the last night of the three-day banquet.

Brikal, who was addicted to women, would surely be swayed by it.

It was the perfect card to play at the right moment.

“This is the last night. There’s not much prepared, but please enjoy yourselves.”

At Rosel’s command, the nobles began to enjoy the banquet once again, forgetting the earlier incident.

But Brikal could not enjoy it.

The chilling aura he felt from Duvel for just a moment had made his insides freeze.

This was the first time since becoming king that he couldn’t enjoy the banquet.

Something even the regent, the saint, the reformers, and the great sages couldn’t do, Duvel had accomplished with just one voice.

Of course, Brikal, who had been drinking to drown his shame, soon got drunk and once again fell into the trap of the dancers, grinning foolishly.

But Duvel, watching from the window with cold eyes, closed his eyes and turned away.

A sigh, filled with sorrow and regret, rose into the night sky.

The opportunity had passed.