Children of the Holy Emperor

Enrique, or rather, the man who called himself No. 21, had already finished preparations for the group to pass through the Cartago gate.

He had hidden a small cart in the bushes a little distance from the rendezvous point, filled with various trade goods and provisions commonly carried by peddlers. Outfits for the group to change into, as well as official identification badges issued in Asein, were ready.

And, creepily enough, a coffin was placed in one corner of the cart.

As Aslan and old Max fumbled to change their clothes, No. 21 gestured silently towards the coffin for Bart, who was standing blankly.

“…Is that meant to be my place?”

“Do you think you can pass through a regular gate with the stigma of a devil worshiper, Your Majesty?”

Nathaniel: If you have a complaint, just say it. Why is everyone, Justin or you, acting like this lately?

Enrique: Aren’t you good at pretending to be a corpse? Just hold your breath for a few hours.

The two squabbled for a while, but eventually Bart surrendered to No. 21, who was grinding his teeth and saying, ‘wouldn’t it have been nice if you had given me more time to prepare?’

Clickety-clack, clickety-clack. With a well-groomed mustache and the unique bread-shaped hat of Asein merchants, No. 21 began to drive the cart.

Aslan and old Max sat comfortably in the cargo hold of the cart, eating dried fruit and seasoned jerky from their bags, easing the fatigue of their long forced march. Only Bart, crouched silently within the open coffin, was gloomy, and for a while, the journey continued peacefully.

The change came when they were almost at the Cartago gate.

“…Something’s wrong, Enrique.”

Bart, who had been sitting quietly for a while, suddenly opened his mouth. He was still staring blankly into space, his chin resting on his knees, and at the sight of the eerie glow in his eyes, Aslan got up from his seat in alarm.

No. 21 must have noticed the strange gleam, too, because without a word of protest, this time from No. 21 himself, he halted the carriage.

“Turn the cart around.”

No. 21’s eyebrows raised slightly.

“We’ll run into the pursuit team.”

“I don’t think they’re likely to be too suspicious of us heading in the opposite direction, so I suggest we turn back and continue on our way to the gateway to Asein.”

“…….”

There was silence for a moment at his words. If taken literally, it was suggesting they turn back along the road nearly all the way back to Flower Village. It would take a whole day.

Just over that hill was the gate to Carthago. How did we get this far……

“We are close to our destination, Your Majesty.”

But Bart dismissed his opinion with one sentence.

“I have a bad feeling.”

“…….”

No. 21 chewed his lips for a moment, but soon obediently drove the cart onto a forest path beside the highway. It seemed he was trying to turn around on the narrow road by making a detour.

“Wait, what the hell is…”

Old Max, who didn’t understand, tried to say something, but Aslan quickly silenced him. Judging from their experiences so far, he didn’t think Bart would act unnecessarily. They soon left the rough forest path and returned to the highway. They began retracing the exact path they had come.

And not long after, they ran into a group of riders galloping towards them from a distance. It was the pursuit team from the Flower Village.

While they had considered the possibility of them galloping through the highway overnight, Aslan felt his heart sink because he hadn’t expected the pursuit team to catch up so quickly. Aslan and old Max quickly pretended to be asleep, pulling their hats low. Their throats went dry in an instant.

There were seven in the pursuit team, and they were obviously in a hurry. One of them at the front glanced back at the cart as they passed by.

However, it seemed he could not even imagine that they would be in a peddler’s cart full of foodstuffs, driven by an unfamiliar coachman, coming from the opposite side. They quickly turned their gaze away from the cart and spurred their horses towards the gate.

Clickety-clack, clickety-clack. The pursuit team quickly grew distant.

Phew. Aslan exhaled the breath he had been holding only after the pursuit team completely disappeared from sight. The tension that had been draining his blood gradually subsided.

Old Max murmured softly, “That was Rodrigo just now, wasn’t it?”

Aslan nodded. It might have been a coincidence, but somehow it was unsettling to think that the person leading the pursuit team was the same one who had spread rumors about the Asein punitive forces.

“Enrique.”

Bart, who hadn’t even bothered to hide in the coffin because he had guessed the pursuit team wouldn’t inspect the cart carefully, was still staring somewhere and commanded No. 21.

“Hide the cart and observe the pursuit team’s movements.”

Without a word, No. 21 turned the cart into the bushes by the roadside. As soon as they were far enough away from the highway, he stopped the cart and quickly disappeared from the driver’s seat.

His movements, whether appearing or disappearing, were truly ghostly.

“Um, Bart… Your Majesty?”

Aslan spent a while observing before hesitantly calling out to Bart. It was the first time he’d directly called for him since No. 21 appeared, and he felt unusually nervous. If he didn’t know any better, it wouldn’t matter, but knowing that the other party wasn’t of ordinary status, he couldn’t help but be cautious.

Bart quietly turned his head towards him. His usual cold face showed no sign of discomfort. Aslan sighed in relief and asked him a question.

“I’ve wanted to ask since yesterday…but I had no chance. Did they really send a punitive force from Asein? How did you know that the punitive force was coming?”

From their conversation with No. 21, it was clear that Bart had a purpose in coming here, but it didn’t seem like he knew about the situation in the Flower Village from the start. He nodded and responded obediently.

“I felt the gaze of surveillance from within the mountain occasionally. Professional trackers who do not easily reveal their traces; the search party from the Flower Village probably didn’t detect them. Yesterday, several military messenger birds flew up from the base of the mountain. It was impossible not to realize that military action was imminent. It is not a battleground with Carthago, so if they gather an army, there can only be one purpose.”

“Military messenger birds…”

Aslan hadn’t noticed at all. When could he have seen that?

“If it weren’t for the various chaotic situations like yesterday, someone in the Flower Village would have noticed it quickly.”

Indeed, with the spy incident and Martha’s death, the entire village was in chaos yesterday.

But at the base of the mountain?

“Could it be, are they Flanders’ men?”

Weren’t Jerome and Flanders’s guard in a colluding relationship? Why are they attacking the Flower Village from there?

If that’s true, why did the sudden rumors about Asein’s punitive force and spies circulate?

However, Bart tilted his head slightly to the side and replied in an indifferent tone.

“The only place that seemed capable of organizing a punitive force was Flanders.”

“Most of the places looted so far are Asein’s territories, why would Flanders…”

“It’s simple. If you know the corruption of the people of Archduke Asein, that rotten old man, it’s easy to guess.”

His explanation was roughly this. Archduke Asein had let his territory be looted for a long time, likely waiting for the damage to accumulate enough to demand a large amount of reparation. Trade with Asein cannot be cut off, so he waited until Flanders judged that the anticipated reparation was greater than the cost of organizing a punitive force right now.

They’d pocket most of the reparations instead out of the territory, and let others take on the costly bandit suppression. Then they wrap it up as diplomatic achievement and collect money from the territory again.

What is this, they’re totally thieves.

“…”

Aslan, who was about to cry out ‘thief’, silently closed his mouth. There was still a lot he was curious about, but he couldn’t ask rashly.

Why did you come to this Flower Village? What are those cryptic words you said to Kaien yesterday? Why are you bothersomely dragging me and old Max around?

He was slowly getting a grip on the identity of this suspicious royalty.

The dignity inherent in his body and the natural way he treats people lower in status. The man who could blatantly call that Archduke Asein a rotten old man. The one who has the vast divine power he has never seen before.

Above all, there was only one person on this continent who could be called His Majesty.

No. 21 returned to the carriage after quite some time had passed. His already taciturn expression seemed to have turned more serious, so Aslan felt that something unusual must have happened.

“The bandits were in collusion with Carthago.”

His Majesty Bart listened to the report without any particular disturbance. The only ones utterly surprised were Aslan and old Max. As they looked at No. 21 with wide eyes, he continued with a grave face.

“It was unclear whether the entire gang of bandits was involved, or only a portion of them. However, the individual leading the pursuit team seemed to have been in contact with them for quite a long time. It appeared as if he had passed on information about His Majesty and his party through secret letters long ago.”

Rodrigo.

Suddenly, Aslan felt a chill creeping up his spine.

Max whispered hoarsely next to him, “Then if we had proceeded straight to the gate….”

He couldn’t finish his sentence, but everyone could guess the outcome.

They would have most likely been executed on the spot, just like the Hwa family that was killed in Flanders last year.

Agent No. 21 quickly knelt in front of the gate and bowed his head. “We have failed in our investigation. This is a failure of the guild. We apologize, Your Majesty.”

“We simply didn’t have time to investigate. I know well the hard work the guild does. Would the guild have had any business in the western mountains if it hadn’t been for that child?”

“But…”

“I already had some suspicion that there were traitors from Carthago lurking in the background. Don’t worry too much about it.”

King Bart showed great magnanimity and dignity, dismissing the minor mistake that could have put his life at risk with a nod of his head.

Of course, he was still crouching inside the cart.

Afterwards, they quickly drove the carriage away. Although they had once passed by the Carthago gate unnoticed, if their party did not arrive, the pursuit team would inevitably start to suspect the carriage they had once passed by.

They took minimum rest to ensure the horses didn’t tire out, but they planned to keep as much distance as possible from the pursuit team until they reached the official road.

“Um… I can’t help but be curious. Who exactly is that gentleman?”

Max, who was taking turns driving the carriage with Agent No. 21, quietly asked him. No. 21 glanced back at His Majesty, who was half-burying his head in his knees with his eyes closed.

After hesitating for a moment, Agent No. 21 finally shrugged his shoulders and opened his mouth.

“Well, it won’t matter. You two have already become targets of intensive management by the guild because you’re too deeply involved in His Majesty’s affairs. I trust you won’t be loose-lipped.”

Aslan and Max perked up their ears and focused on No. 21’s voice.

“That gentleman is His Majesty Natanial, the sovereign of Delcross and the greatest ruler of the continent. Henceforth, there must be no lacking in your treatment of him.”

Max dropped his jaw.

The… what? That gentleman wearing iron chains marked with the brand of devil worshipers?

“No, then what about that brand….”

Aslan, who had an inkling of his identity, was also curious. How could the most noble cleric on the continent, His Holiness, have the brand of cursed devil worshipers on his back?

“Well, His Majesty is, of course, not a devil worshiper. Due to circumstances, he disguised himself as a prisoner…”

“So you’re saying that he branded that damned mark on his own body? No, what kind of horrendous act is that!”

Max shivered.

“Of course, it wasn’t branded on His Majesty’s real body!”

“What do you mean by that? If it’s not his real body, then who is that gentleman?”

Hmm. No. 21 furrowed his brows. The more he tried to explain, the more it felt like he was losing control of the information.

He glanced at King Bart and sighed, “His Majesty’s real body cannot leave the cathedral under normal circumstances. That body is an artificial body, or a homunculus, which His Majesty’s soul inhabits when it needs to move far…”

Aslan and Max turned as pale as death at the mention of the word ‘homunculus’.

Even they, simple country folks, had heard rumors about the devil worshipers of Delcross who shook the continent a few years ago. A heretic group that denied the authority of the deity and sought to explore the truth of the world, they created a cursed life form with the help of the devil’s power, a homunculus.

Fortunately, it was exposed by inquisitors before it was completed, leading to a large-scale purge where all those involved were burned at the stake.

But did that mean that the cursed life form still existed? Moreover, the act of transferring the soul into that artificial life form, which was even abandoned by God, was it not an act that only devil worshipers would commit?

Max muttered with a trembling voice. “So, so does that mean that His Majesty, the representative of God, is actually a demon….”

“…is not a demon worshiper.”

Agent No. 21 ran a hand over his face in fatigue.