Chapter 259 — 겨울(Winter)

Chapter 259

Winter

Thud!

The sound rang in everyone’s ears.

Friend and foe alike.

Batu, who had shoved even Herman and the Lions back and left the Hexagrams unable to budge—

finally toppled.

While Elric and Batu were locked in a brutal duel,

the Imperial Army strained to crush the mountain folk’s last resistance, and the mountain folk staked everything to protect Batu.

Their resistance, especially, was desperate.

They knew all too well that if they fell here, everything would be over.

—At the very least, protect the Great Chieftain!

By now, every mountain tribesman was thinking the same thing.

Almost all had deserted; the handful who remained were Batu’s fervent followers.

They believed the future of their people lay with Batu. If he died here, or was dragged off by the Empire, the mountain folk would never rally again—only groan under Imperial yoke once more. No, the pressure would be far worse than before.

By contrast, the Imperial Army burned with the desire to end the war by any means.

So the fight between the unyielding and the would-be breakers was ferocious.

But in the end the advantage lay, inevitably, with the Imperials whose strength was overwhelming.

Yet the duel between the two was so fierce, and Batu even drew forth a Mystery, that the battle as a whole fell into a lull.

For fear the clash might sweep up the other soldiers—

everyone watched Elric and Batu’s bout with dry throats.

And at last, Elric won.

….

For a moment, silence flooded the field.

Then—

Tock.

As if to crack that hush, something fell from the sky.

“…Snow?”

The Red Lion, Andre Winds, swallowed dryly as a snowflake landed on his palm.

Waaaaaah!

Amid the cheers erupting from all sides—into a world steeped in jubilation—

he felt as if he alone were cut off from it.

That was how strange everything still felt to him.

He could scarcely believe it.

“Lord! It’s over! It’s finally over…!”

Only when he saw Tedan hugging him and hopping up and down did Andre manage to return to reality.

It’s really over.

Those hellish days…

The tightrope act he’d had to walk the moment he fell out of favor with the Crown Prince and the Golden Lion rushed past like a lantern-lit reel.

He had, in the end, chosen true rebellion to save his men.

As a knight who had once sworn loyalty to the Empire, the guilt had gnawed at him.

Only now did he feel a measure of relief.

What would have happened if he hadn’t met Elric?

The thought made him swallow.

I probably wouldn’t be standing here now.

He might, he thought, be lying beside the fallen Batu.

They had split in the end because their paths diverged,

but Batu, too, had done everything to shield his own people.

In truth, while Andre had been mired in self-pity and regret all through the war, Batu alone had charged on, full of conviction.

Andre had found that remarkable.

He had respected it.

And so,

even as their side roared and the enemy stood stunned, Andre Winds did not show much emotion.

He merely inclined his head slightly toward where Elric and Batu were.

To the new lord who had seized victory, he offered respect.

For the fallen comrade who had sought to uphold his clan’s honor, he prayed for peace.

That day, the snow fell thick and heavy.

And—

a month flashed by.

* * *

“…Therefore, we enfeoff Elric Mervinger, Duke of Chanseong, who rendered the greatest merit in suppressing the rebellion, as lord of the former Eastern March.”

After the triumph through the capital was over,

the commendation ceremony for the meritorious was conducted with haste.

Naturally, the brightest among them was Elric Mervinger.

In truth, the General Headquarters and the Imperial government alike were mired in disgrace over how this suppression had gone.

At the outset they had trumpeted that it was a mere local warlord’s rebellion, to be ended in short order—

but once the war began, they were beaten back again and again, and endured the humiliation of losing, in a single campaign, two of the Empire’s vaunted Lions and Hexagrams.

Crowning it all was the treason of the Crown Prince, the supreme commander….

With such facts known, the government could not possibly maintain its prestige.

New riots or uprisings might flare; they needed a hero front and center to turn public opinion.

They chose Elric.

The sole heir of Usdon Mervinger, the “Mage of the Stars.”

The hero who, abandoned alone on the frontier, clawed his way back and single-handedly crushed remnants of the old demonkind.

And… the one who ended the war.

From opening shots to armistice, this war felt almost like a prelude announcing the birth of the hero Elric Mervinger.

[Mervinger’s Brilliant Ascent!]

[The Duke of Chanseong Becomes a Shining Star.]

[Will the Comet Become a Sun?]

[A Year of Hardship on the Frontier: In-Depth Coverage!]

With the government’s full backing, the papers were stuffed with stories about Elric.

For all the good it did.

But Elric knew.

The more the government trumpeted him, the more someone else’s wariness would grow alongside it.

[A Glimmer of Hope for the Imperial House Amid Gloom and Despair!]

[His epithet may be “the Black,” but Kromhel the Lion was more dazzling and valiant than any.]

[Heartwarming reports on the Fourth Prince who comforted the soldiers even in defeat.]

So the government put forward Prince Kromhel as counterbalance.

Stories about him flooded out to set him in relief against Elric.

Where Elric’s coverage charted a hero’s journey from the frontier,

Prince Kromhel’s cast him, despite the Crown Prince’s repeated blunders, as an “older brother” who quietly tended soldiers and officers, and as the bravest vanguard on the field.

[The Great Miracle of Two Heroes!]

[The Empire’s Future, Brilliantly Aglow.]

They even ran pieces on the friendship between Elric and Prince Kromhel.

In the end, the public came to see the two as rivals in a positive, mutually inspiring relationship.

Elric, knowing full well the subtle seeds planted to stoke conflict between them, could only snort.

Just look now.

Whirr-whirr-whirr—

With recording magitools spinning everywhere, Prince Kromhel himself was “bestowing” a decoration on Elric.

The Emperor was nowhere in sight.

The staging made it look like Kromhel was personally commending Elric.

“I know it’s a real pile of shit, but humor it.”

Prince Kromhel, feigning to pin the medal to Elric’s dress uniform, murmured in his ear.

A sighing voice.

He knew perfectly well why this farce was being played.

“Looks to me like you’re the one who suffered.”

“…You can tell?”

“Haven’t you looked in a mirror? Those bags under your eyes could hold bricks.”

“Damn it. If you knew how much the old fogeys rode me all night, you’d pity me.”

“That’s why our house doesn’t breed codgers.”

“Can’t believe I’m actually jealous of someone for once….”

“Want to come over?”

“Heh. Then we’d have a fresh rebellion. Tempting, but I’ll pass. More importantly—when are you treating us to your wedding noodles?”

“….”

Elric broke off teasing Kromhel mid-sentence.

The attack had come from an unexpected angle.

“Hardly anyone in society doesn’t know your love story with Miss Isabel. All the salons ever ask is when the two of you will make it official.”

“Tell them to mind their own business.”

“So the rumors are true.”

“What rumors?”

“That you were single from birth…!”

“…If I kicked you here and now, it’d be a spectacle. How’s that sound?”

“Heh heh. I’ll decline.”

With a light chuckle, Prince Kromhel patted Elric’s shoulder twice as if to say “well done,” then moved on to the next honoree.

“My word…!”

“Two tall men side by side—like a painting come to life.”

“What do you suppose they were talking about?”

“Encouraging each other, I’d wager. Or discussing the many affairs of state to come.”

“Quite. With the Empire’s future on their shoulders, they must be run ragged. Ha ha.”

The nobles watching spun their own fantasies,

but—

“Encouragement, my ass.”

Elric pushed out his lower lip, displeased.

Lately, he’d felt more and more that Kromhel was changing.

He’d had his weirdo streak from the start,

but now… how to put it—he seemed to be coming loose, a screw missing here, another there.

Whatever was doing that to him—

Elric pitied those who praised such a man as the new hero of the age and a pillar of the Imperial House.

They were all fooled by his surface.

『There’s a saying: dwell with ink, and you blacken.』

[…?]

Elric glanced at Mephisto, who had drifted up beside him to spout nonsense.

『Black as one may be, meet something blacker and of course you turn pitch.』

[Are you saying I’m blacker?]

『This king never said such a thing. If one didn’t feel a prick of guilt, there’d be no reason to react so shar— gwaaaagh!』

Elric set Mephisto to doing a handstand tap dance and fell into thought.

So we still can’t find where Azazel went.

For the past month,

even as they tidied the war’s aftermath, Azazel hadn’t shown so much as the tip of his nose.

He had clearly burned through what little mana he had left when he wrenched a Mystery out of Batu.

Mephisto had scoured everywhere, intent on devouring Azazel if he could, but traces weren’t easy to find.

The war isn’t over yet.

Which is to say—maybe it’s only beginning?

A hunch flickered.

That Azazel might be nothing more than a warm-up for the new stirrings of demonkind.

The Mage Who Devoured Talent