Ch.214214. Marquis of Bordeaux (8)

When I first saw the Marquis, the very first thought that crossed my mind was contempt.

Knights who had sworn loyalty to their lords stood proudly before their superiors, willing to face death itself, yet this man who called himself a Marquis was still trembling in fear.

Of course, it’s not strange for him to be afraid since he’s only human after all, but how pathetic is it to cause all this trouble and then act as if he’s the innocent victim?

‘….Calm down, calm down.’

As much as I wanted to slice him into pieces with magic right now, I knew better than anyone that doing so would be nothing more than venting my anger, so I barely managed to compose myself….

Only after regaining my composure could I properly take in the Marquis’s appearance.

Judging by his looks, he appeared to be in his mid to late thirties, with a distinctive long, styled mustache. Unlike most nobles of the Frankish Kingdom, he gave off the impression of a bureaucrat rather than a warrior.

Due to the inheritance laws of the Frankish Kingdom—which dictated that noble titles could only be passed down to Aura awakeners or those with comparable magical abilities—most lords were typically knights, possessing both a warrior’s strength and proper education.

After all, when mid-level threats appeared in a territory, it was usually the lord who dealt with them. Most domains couldn’t afford to hire wandering knights, so being at least mid-level was practically a requirement for lords.

Therefore, while most lords resembled soldiers, knights, or military commanders, the Marquis of Bordeaux looked more like a rigid high-ranking official.

Instead of armor or military attire, he wore clothing closer to formal bureaucratic dress, and his physique—excluding the enhancements from his Aura—couldn’t even charitably be described as well-maintained.

He wore a short military sword at his waist, perhaps thinking it made him look like a knight, but the awkward positioning on his belt made it difficult to draw, giving the whole ensemble an amateurish feel.

The Marquis, presenting such an unstable appearance, tried to hide his fear without even properly looking at me, but I could hear his wildly pounding heart. Looking at him with disdain, I opened my mouth.

“Marquis, have you nothing to say?”

“Say? You dare to speak of that? You attacked first, assaulting my knights—”

—SMACK!

—Thud.

“Ah, my mistake.”

When he started spouting such unbearable nonsense, I couldn’t contain my rising irritation and slapped him hard across the face.

I may be a magic user and he a warrior, but the difference between high-level and mid-level is greater than one might imagine. Having received a clean left hook, he winced in pain as I spoke with a cold expression.

“Hey, did you really think I wouldn’t know?”

“Know what? This is absurd—”

—BANG!

“Don’t you understand the situation? Do you think I care about your little schemes? I’m high-level, remember? Seriously?”

As mentioned earlier, high-level individuals are “strategic assets” whose mere existence is enough to shake international politics. Frankly speaking, as long as they don’t cause major incidents, they can wield almost absolute power within certain boundaries.

If a high-level lord decided to declare independence with their territory, no one would object. Some might even welcome it, seeing it as preventing domestic political instability.

Thus, as long as high-level individuals don’t openly convert to cultism or massacre civilians by the hundreds, they’re generally tolerated no matter what they do.

Of course, the influence of a faction leader in a fairly large country would normally be quite significant, so I might be pushing boundaries here, but…

My family name, ‘Aleinos,’ and my position as my mother’s successor are powerful enough to nullify all those concerns.

The political power derived from being associated with a still-thriving legendary figure—a companion of the first king and a national hero who wrote myths and built legends—is enough to make all that irrelevant.

But this fellow, either due to his limited insight or being trapped in his own world, was now brazenly challenging me.

“Do you think you’ll get away with this?”

“Oh my. You’ve been taking that tone all along, haven’t you?”

Yes, he seems confident in his own way.

He’s probably destroyed most of the evidence and believes he won’t be caught, thinking he can avenge this humiliation later.

Of course, knowing the truth, I find this nothing short of cheap comedy.

“But honestly, it doesn’t matter how you respond. The truth is—those maids and servants you bribed were cultists.”

“…What?”

“Cultists, worshippers of foreign gods. Those who worship ‘The Faceless God’… Surely you’re not going to claim ignorance?”

From the moment he became entangled with cultists, he essentially became a walking dead man.

“False accusations! False accusations! How could possibly, possibly he—”

“Listen, Marquis. Louis VII is a holy knight of Jephtal. Do you really think he would falsely accuse someone? Does that make any sense?”

The reason the Marquis abandoned all pretense of negotiation at the mention of cultists is because the treatment of cultists in the Western Continent is more terrible and brutal than anything else.

Once connected to a cult, all previous social status becomes meaningless, and failure to cooperate with investigations automatically makes one a continent-wide fugitive, hunted by everyone.

Naturally, these measures can be implemented based on suspicion alone, without concrete evidence. The moment one’s collusion with cultists is proven, regardless of whether they themselves are cultists, they face execution or equivalent punishment.

Even mere association with cultists can result in such punishment, and if one is proven to be an actual cultist, the punishment they receive is so severe that a clean death would be merciful in comparison.

These measures might seem excessive, but considering how many countless nations have fallen to cultists when they weren’t dealt with harshly enough, they seem justified.

The ancient empire’s collapse and the Western Continent’s suffering under rampant cultism for decades serve as reminders that suppressing and rejecting cultists is essentially an act of survival.

Louis VII is trying to cover this up considering the repercussions if the cultist issue became public knowledge. Frankly, if this had become public, the Marquis would have been visited by the Inquisitors of the Pantheon.

Those fanatics who wouldn’t hesitate to torture and burn hundreds to root out a single heretic—they would never let him go.

“What, what nonsense is this! It’s a conspiracy! A conspiracy against me! Otherwise, how could…”

Of course, the Marquis of Bordeaux, completely unaware of these facts, sees this as a conspiracy to dispose of him, but what can he do in this reality?

“Conspiracy? This is reality. Most unfortunate for you.”

“…You!”

Even as he reacts violently, it’s obvious he’s inwardly panicking about what if it’s true.

“Well then, shall we begin? Are you ready to end your one and only life?”

Anyway, I gathered magical energy in my hand for what could be considered my real reason for visiting the Marquis of Bordeaux’s domain—his execution.

Publicly, my actions will be known as punishment for a marquis who dared try to use me, and at least his meager honor won’t be tarnished posthumously.

Accusations of collusion with cultists could trigger far too many serious and complicated incidents, so this outcome is probably better for the family he’ll leave behind.

Perhaps realizing I truly intended to kill him:

“I cannot die like this! For the restoration of the Duchy of Aquitaine…!”

“…Duchy? That antiquated old state?”

His sudden appeal to some supposedly noble cause seemed pathetic, but he seemed determined to act disgracefully until the end.

—BOOM!!!

—CRASH!

With an explosive sound, black smoke spread rapidly, accompanied by the sound of breaking glass. Judging by the strong odor from the smoke, he had been waiting for an opportunity to escape, but…

—WHOOSH!!!

Unfortunately for him, I had already pinpointed his location with my life-detection ability and lashed out with extending vines.

“Ugh, AAAAARGH!!! AAAAA—!!!”

Surprisingly, when the magical smoke cleared, the Marquis had survived my magic despite it being meant for restraint.

“…How much money did you spend?”

I could only cautiously guess that he had survived by wearing an excessive amount of purchased magical accessories like some nouveau riche.