“Master Callius. We’ve arrived."
“See you later, then.”
Genos disappeared in a flash as if someone was chasing him, leaving Callius behind, who had to enter the castle along with Allen.
It was a magnificent sight.
Although the architecture of the royal castle had a bit of a religious flavour, it had a solemn, antique look.
Instead of garish luxury, its gravitas came from its simplicity.
The first thing one saw upon entering was a long garden and a statue of God presiding over it. After that there was a fountain standing in the centre, and to its four directions were the four parts of the outer fortress.
After they’d walked for a while, a self-proclaimed guide appeared along with some guards, who led them towards the inner fortress.
“You are expected. Would you like to go straight to the ballroom?”
“I would.”
No further explanation was required.
Callius' black hair and grey eyes were proof of his name and title.
“Only plain iron swords are permitted inside the royal ballroom. If you have any weapons or artifacts with you, please leave them here for storage.”
The guide took Callius and Allen to the armoury where a multitude of weapons were kept on display.
It was a place knights would hate the most.
No matter how safe and well-maintained they might keep their collection, no one wanted to entrust their beloved swords to such a place.
It was naturally so for knights, and even more so for paladins.
There was a reason why Genos had disappeared as soon as he’d arrived at the royal castle.
“I didn’t bring any.”
His swords were already stored inside subspace, and he had no artifacts with him.
There was no reason to show up to the royal castle armed to the teeth.
“I’ll leave the choice to you.”
Then Callius received a sword.
It was a plain iron sword, but it was made by a master of their craft.
The edge had been dulled, but the rigidity rivalled that of a carcass.
‘There's even a spell formula carved on it.'
Probably to increase its hardness.
Even so, it could only match a low-level carcass, but it wasn't too bad to use in a spar.
Because duels –
Were the original purpose of this ball.
Unlike normal galas where nobles gathered for the sake of social mingling –
The ball at the royal castle was quite different. That was obvious from the fact the one had to wear a sword to enter.
The ball held by the monarch was a place to prove one’s past achievements, and to evaluate and verify each other's swordsmanship.
In a nutshell, it was a gathering to discuss swordsmanship – a Sword Dance Society.
Callius had high expectations for it.
Since it was a setting that he’d devised, he was curious about how the related stories and characters had grown and transformed when translated to reality.
Which swordsman wouldn’t be curious to see what elegant sword dances would be born if you combined a ball and swordsmanship?
Naturally he had his own anticipation.
“Count Callius von Jervain, entering!”
When the door opened, the sound was what Callius registered first.
The sound of iron swords clashing? No, not that.
The sound of dancing swords cutting through the air? Not that either.
It was the sound of young men and women chatting about each other's swords.
Laughter rang out here and there like tinkling bells.
That in itself wasn’t anything strange.
Although everybody carried a sword, it was still a banquet. But Callius quickly realized something more.
That not a single person in sight had their sword drawn.
Were they discussing a sword dance? No.
They were only talking about their swords, as a tool to increase their own value, and as objects that raised their status.
There were no knights demonstrating swordsmanship.
Callius' face turned cold.
Carpe’s Sword Dance Society was originally supposed to be a place where people exchanged pointers and measured each others’ skills via competition.
However, the purpose seemed to have been distorted with the passing of history.
Sure, there was a lot of rot in this kingdom, but to think it reached this far…
Callius was starting to sense a smell that revealed the true extent of the rot gnawing at Carpe’s foundations.
“It’s all rotten to the core.”
The smell – came from perfumes.
The various perfumes the attendees had sprayed on themselves, seemed to mix into a disgusting, putrid stench.
Their actions were similarly rotten, so it matched the atmosphere.
There was no need for him to make a public fuss over this, but Callius found that he couldn’t stomach this carefree sense of complacency that pervaded the air.
In the North, hundreds of soldiers and knights had fallen, dead by the hands of the orcs who themselves had been tricked into attacking Carpe by the empire.
The war that had lasted for several months had only come to an end after Callius had risked his own life over and over again.
Not just the North.
The South and the West were both equally small, but despite their small size, they too were risking their lives against the empire.
Raising a sword against the enemy means you put your own life at risk.
The battlefield was the great equalizer – soldiers, knights, and even kings all fought for their lives just the same.
So Callius didn't want to watch.
He couldn’t stand this sight.
Was he going to let it go?
How could he?
Change is life.
Just as a long-dead rotten corpse couldn’t be purified easily, a long degenerated culture couldn’t be changed easily.
But so what if it was difficult?
Callius was feeling up for giving it a try.
“Count Jervain?”
A man with puffed hair approached.
“Who are you?”
“I am Jordan de Oulise. You've probably heard of Oulise's wine.”
In this ballroom hall full of the stench of rot, young men were laughing, bragging about where they bought this or that sword and how much profit they’d made, while young girls flocked together to watch them, their mouths covered with the fans in their hands.
“I have heard of your illustrious name. It is the pride of our kingdom that a flower as resplendent as you has bloomed in such a desolate season. How do you feel about meeting with the young ladies over there and discussing the sword?”
Callius’ disapproving gaze took in the sight around him once more. Then he chuckled.
“What a dump this place is.”
“… What did you just say?”
“Ah, I just said something very rude, didn’t I? It was a slip of the tongue.”
"Aha. I almost misunderstood…”
“These worms that are worse than trash, only interested in putting up a front, boasting that they’re discussing the sword… this isn’t a ballroom, it’s a damned cesspit.”
Jordan, who’d been about to continue laughing saying he’d almost misunderstood, froze.
“… Even if you’re a count, that’s too much! To call our Sword Dance Society with its long history and storied tradition a cesspit!!”
“What’s the point in your long history and storied tradition, if the inheritors and successors are all garbage?”
The ancient ancestral traditions deserved respect, sure, but if they’d degenerated and become hollow pantomimes, throwing them out and starting anew was the right thing to do.
“Y-, you, how could you be such a lunatic…”
“That remark of your insulted not only this small gathering, but Carpe itself! A mere count is spouting things that even the emperor of the Holy Empire wouldn’t say!”
Emperor? They were even dragging the empire in? Excellent.
“Then let me clarify why you are garbage and filth.”
“Try it.”
First of all –
“The emperor would say the same. If the emperor came here and saw you, he’d call you trash too. Why? Because that’s what you lot deserve.”
Because that was their rightful due.
If the emperor of the empire saw this deplorable behaviour, he’d have no interest left in punishing them.
Naturally.
Facing such pathetic behaviour, all his hard work so far to subdue Carpe would seem like a fool’s errand.
He was working so hard to realize his will, and here this group of nobles were spending their time in moribund leisure.
“You!! You dare acknowledge that emperor here in Carpe…”
"Let’s have a discussion. No matter how this ends, I'll have to check out your swordsmanship, Count Jervain. Let’s see how the swordsmanship of a well-known dullard and a maniac measures up to the history and tradition of our Sword Dance Society!”
It wasn’t funny.
Casting doubt on Callius’ swordsmanship?
Apparently this bastard only jumped around like a frog in a well, closing his eyes and covering his ears, flirting with any girl he came across.
And secondly –
“If we lose to the empire, their first act will be to sell all the children of the nobility into slavery. Young girls will be sold as concubines, and men will either become menial slaves or sent to the battlefield as cannon fodder.”
Even facing such a future, these idiots came to the Sword Dance Society yet never drew their swords once.
Perhaps this atmosphere had been brewing for a long time.
Facing a world filled with despair, they just wanted to live an easy life for as long as they could.
“Your parents back home are thinking day and night how to save this country, how to save their fiefs, considering the current state of the kingdom. And yet, you’re just laughing and chatting, throwing the time away? What are you, if not garbage?”
These bastards weren’t even worth drawing his sword.
“To insult the Sword Dance Society is to insult our ancestors!”
“After the empire, you’re now bringing your ancestors into it? Looks like you yourself don't have anything to take pride in. No wonder you suck up to everyone you come across.”
At Callius’ provocation, Jordan finally couldn’t stand the humiliation and drew the sword from his waist.
The momentum wasn’t bad, but –
“Too slow.”
Slow enough to make Callius yawn.
Compared to the axes of the orcs, it was at the level of a childish prank. It crawled towards Callius' neck. Callius pinched his middle and index fingers and bounced it off.
Claaang!
With a bit of the Other Shore Flower’s trick mixed in, he easily deflected Jordan's sword.
“Huff!”
Jordan's sword bounced away from that instantaneous repulsive force, and while he was still in shock, Callius' fist hit his face.
Thud!!
“Kahk!!”
Cla-claaaaang!! Thud, crash!
The dishes and wine glasses on the table beside them tumbled down along with him.
His luxurious clothes were instantly decorated with white and red from the food and wine.
As Jordan fell in an instant, the crowd quickly became quiet.
Because no one in this venue had ever beaten another nobleman, one of their peers, like this.
“Count Jervain. Are you sure you can afford to do this?”
“You’re overreaching.”
“We’re nobles too. Are you taking a stand against us?”
They were basically asking if he was part of the queen's entourage.
Perhaps the reason why the Sword Dance Society had changed like this was because the power of the noble faction had grown beyond that of the royalists.
Therefore the queen could not change the situation arbitrarily, even though she was aware of it.
He got a rough idea about the situation.
The bastard who’d taken the lead and come to the forefront, was asking Callius.
Will you stand by the powerless queen?
Do you dare turn all the nobles into your enemies?
Callius responded lightly in that pregnant silence.
“Do you know how many nobles I beheaded on the road to here from the North?”
The rumours must’ve spread by now.
“… Are you lumping us together with the spies of the empire!”
“It’s not impossible.”
Another status Callius had was the captain of the Sixth Inquisitorial Squad.
“Rather, it’s you, not me, who should be careful.”
A count of the kingdom who was also an inquisitor-captain of the Order of Valtherus, if he decided to do so –
He could very well squeeze out some minor scandal from somewhere and put any of the people here on the gallows.
“This isn't the North.”
“I’m glad it’s not the North. There are fewer people I have to protect.”
But what about the rest of the nobles?
Callius asked.
“Y-, you, are you threatening us?!”
“You made the threats first. Or did you forget what you were telling me just now?"
The aristocrat who’d been trying to oppress Callius, flinched and murmured an apology.
It was quite refreshing to watch him cringe.
"Alright. Now, this guy called this place a Sword Dance Society, with a long history and tradition.”
Callius gestured with his chin at the man who was still out cold on the floor.
“Carpe is a place where only the strong are allowed to speak and the weak must keep their mouths shut.”
The law of the jungle.
That was the essence of this world.
Respecting the strong, honing and cultivating one's own strength to climb higher – those were the values that supported Carpe’s banner.
“You can’t even reach my – no. You can’t even reach the toes of this knight next to me.”
So keep your mouths shut.
“Are you going to admit it or not?”
They chose silence instead of answering.
But the silence didn’t mean affirmation.
“…”
“…”
These bastards’ faces were a spectacle.
Allen. His appearance was that of a boy who had not yet matured.
He’d lost one eye in the war, but with his youthful appearance he could be mistaken for a rookie.
Dissatisfaction and doubt appeared on the faces of the audience.
Callius was feeling frustrated, because he was wondering how could the rot have progressed so far that they couldn't even measure Allen's strength.
『Sub Quest』
【Change the Sword Dance Society】
◆ The meaning and tradition of the sword dance created by the protagonists of the founding myth of Carpe, has long since faded. Restore it to its former glory.
<Reward>「Goblin Gold Coin」
A quest also appeared, and –
An interesting idea came to mind.
“Allen.”
"Yes."
“You’ll need to work hard.”
“Please give me the order.”
Allen held the scabbard of the iron sword he’d received from the royal family and looked at Callius.
Callius declared to the nobles who were still silent.
“Fight against my knight here. And if any one of you can defeat him, I'll get down on my knees right here and directly apologize to you all."
“…!”
The nobles began to stir.
Scion of one of the four great noble houses and the owner of the Judgment Sword. Captain of the Inquisition.
They couldn’t touch him, who had all these.
But the moment he got down on his knees and apologized, his reputation and prestige would fall to the gutter.
He’d never be able to do something like this again.
“How about it?”
A way to get this rude bastard to his knees and make him apologize.
The little knight standing next to him, looked like a boy no matter which angle you checked him out from.
It was a fatal temptation.
The thought that they could be the one to subdue that idiot and make him kneel, resonated in their minds. Unable to resist the temptation, a nobleman walked out.
“… G-, good!”
Callius' lips curved up into an arc.
“Your Majesty. It is time.”
“Yes, let’s go.”
Today, many distinguished guests had gathered for the sword dance.
The queen was also quite anticipating it.
It was foolish to sit still and wait for something to change. But sometimes a new wind might blow, clearing away the rotten odour and dropping fruits from the branches.
“The Queen of Carpe, entering. Everyone, please be respectful!”
Immediately upon entering the venue –
The queen widened her pale eyes.
“Now this looks fun.”
Except for a few, most of the noblemen who’d been seated at the venue were down on the floor.
A man stood at the centre of it all.
Callius von Jervain.
The queen's eyes, looking at him, drew a crescent moon.
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