Ch.943Where Has Conscience Gone?

“Zhuwaiyoize, isn’t that right?”

After exchanging greetings, Lacy took a light sip of her tea before getting straight to the point of why she had come all this way.

“Most records about the sacred artifact called Gram were lost three hundred years ago, and very little remains… but fortunately, I was able to confirm the word in some cardinals’ memoirs.”

Her tone implied she already knew everything, so I should just confess. It was a statement filled with firm resolve that wouldn’t allow any clumsy denials.

“Hmm…”

There was no point in trying to wriggle out of this. This wasn’t a situation I could smooth over with a flimsy lie.

Unless you’re a professional con artist, people who live honestly and boldly like me aren’t good at deceiving others with lies.

“…Yes, you’re right. The sacred sword named Gram that Demian obtained. It’s the same weapon that was called Zhuwaiyoize eight hundred years ago.”

So, I nodded readily and acknowledged it straightforwardly. Yes, as you said, that sword is indeed Zhuwaiyoize.

“I knew it…!”

Lacy clapped her hands lightly as if she had expected this all along, then made the sign of the cross and offered a brief prayer.

A prayer suggesting she believed the goddess would never abandon them.

I watched her for a moment, then leaned back against the sofa and turned the question back to her.

“So, what’s your real business? Surely you didn’t come all this way in person just to confirm that one thing. Don’t you have something else to say to me?”

Actually, it was more of an urging than a question. I meant that prayers were fine, but given the hour, we should get to the point quickly.

“Ah, that’s right. I apologize. This isn’t the time for leisurely long conversations. So I’ll get straight to the point.”

Nodding at my words, Lacy placed her interlocked hands on the table and continued.

“Could you hand over the sacred sword and its master to our church?”

Hand over Demian. Along with Gram.

“Would that work?”

It was a demand I had fully expected, and yet one I could never agree to.

“Won’t you reconsider, even if I plead like this?”

“No. Absolutely not. Not a chance.”

I lit a cigarette and firmly refused. No amount of pleading would change what couldn’t be done.

If I handed Demian over to the church, it would immediately create a massive hole in Hestella’s military power, and I had no reason whatsoever to accept that.

The request itself was unconscionable.

“How could I possibly agree to such a request? What kind of madman would hand over his country’s strongest knight to another faction?”

Of course, there was Leopold, but that gentleman had in many ways transcended humanity with what was above his forehead, so he could be considered the sole exception.

“Besides, even if I handed him over, you couldn’t handle it. You must have heard the rumors, right? Why three dragons attacked Hestella.”

While the church naturally wanted to bring the sacred sword’s master into their fold since the sword itself was their divine artifact, this would actually be a foolish move that would bring them nothing but severe losses rather than benefits.

At this point, bringing the sacred sword’s master to their side meant they would have to deal with the pack of wolves drawn to the sacred sword.

Think about it. What would happen if I handed Demian over to the church as Lacy requested, and then three dragons attacked targeting him like before?

Even if the entire church faction, including Lacy, were mobilized, they would have slim chances against three dragons.

Even fighting together with the Empire, they had barely managed to take down one dragon. How could they possibly face three at once?

Even if by some miracle they managed to repel them, they would suffer near-annihilation. The church currently doesn’t have a superhuman like me who can defeat a dragon single-handedly.

“That’s why Demian needs to stay here. The threats that will come for the sacred sword’s master are too dangerous for anyone but me to handle.”

For that reason, Lacy’s request was something I absolutely could not grant. Not because of my own greed, but for all our safety and future.

“I understand what you’re saying.”

Lacy responded in a heavy tone. Usually, such statements are followed by a “but” and a rebuttal.

“However…”

See, there it is.

“However what?”

“As a saint of Elpinel, I cannot condone a situation where a descendant of the Great’s Twelve Knights commands the master of the sacred sword…”

Lacy carefully presented her counterargument. Unlike my practical objections, she was pushing a distinctly religious justification.

The Great’s Twelve Knights had sworn loyalty and obedience to Carlos the Great, and she was questioning whether it was right for the relationship between me, their descendant, and Demian, the sacred sword’s master, to be reversed from what it had been back then.

…Is that any of my business?

“Lacy. Demian is not Carlos the Great.”

I cut off her words, exhaling a cloud of cigarette smoke.

“And I am not Rotholandus. We’ve merely inherited their swords. We’re not their replicas.”

That was my honest opinion. Though the people here, who take it for granted that status, wealth, and even ideology should be inherited from ancestors, might not readily agree.

“Are you saying I should serve Demian just because my ancestor served Carlos the Great as emperor? Don’t make me laugh.”

Even slave contracts wouldn’t last eight hundred years, so why should a lord-vassal relationship from eight hundred years ago matter at all?

“The only thing that can move me is my own will. I couldn’t care less about oaths from eight hundred years ago that would have rusted away long ago.”

If the legendary Great’s Twelve Knights came back to life, they might submit to the sacred sword as they did before. After all, they were the ones who swore that oath.

But why should I?

The one who made that oath was Rotholandus, not me, and to be perfectly frank, he’s not even really my ancestor.

[Indeed, your eloquence is impressive.]

Hersella, who was actually Rotholandus’s descendant, showed no intention whatsoever of submitting to Demian, judging by her words.

[Yes. Kneeling before someone weaker than you, someone who was once your subordinate—that’s worth less than half a penny. Rather than that, I’d choose the conqueror of the great plains, befitting the Aishan-Gioro bloodline.]

If that’s the case, she might as well abandon everything—being a saint, a queen, a descendant of the Great’s Twelve Knights—and return to the plains to become a Khagan. Truly advice worthy of her.

“…I see. I understand. If that’s how you feel, Astika, I won’t mention it further. It would surely be disrespectful.”

Lacy nodded and spoke. Her tone suggested not that she agreed with me, but that she was stepping back because arguing would only intensify the dispute.

“You refuse to hand him over. You reject reestablishing the lord-vassal relationship… Then, would you at least permit the public announcement that ‘Gram’ and Zhuwaiyoize are the same sacred artifact?”

And then she immediately presented a new proposal.

“This would be like confirmation that the goddess is watching over us with good intentions. Just announcing it would give many people hope and pride. As it did for me.”

A proposal to announce that the sacred sword Zhuwaiyoize had reappeared in the world.

“Again with the obvious… Lacy, you must know what would happen if we officially acknowledged this.”

Still, it was a request I couldn’t grant.

“Since you can’t persuade me alone, you want to borrow the voices of others? That’s an uncharacteristically shallow tactic.”

I clicked my tongue as I tapped my cigarette ash into the ashtray.

It was literally a shallow ploy.

The moment I officially confirmed Gram’s identity, everyone who had been hesitant and reserved would start parroting the same claims as Lacy just now.

On top of that, the imperial nobles would also raise an uproar claiming Zhuwaiyoize was an imperial treasure. If all of them demanded that I hand over Demian, it would be difficult for me to ignore.

So this too was a request I couldn’t grant.

“…That wasn’t my intention. If it came across that way, I apologize.”

Lacy bowed her head and apologized.

Saying I had misunderstood. That she simply wanted many others to be inspired by the news of the sacred sword’s appearance, just as she had been.

“Fine, let’s say it was a misunderstanding. That doesn’t change my decision anyway.”

I shrugged lightly as I accepted her apology, then briefly summarized why I couldn’t announce the sword’s identity.

While church members and ordinary people might welcome the sacred sword’s appearance, this could be politically very awkward for Demian and me.

As the world grows increasingly precarious, we need to build up our strength as much as possible, and we can’t afford to be held back by politics, principles, or power struggles.

I felt like I was painfully stating facts that Lacy already knew, but since she seemed to be trying to subtly turn a blind eye to these issues, I had no choice but to point them out myself.

“—Do you understand? Demian still wants to remain my knight, and I intend to respect his wishes. That’s true respect. Not forcing unwanted positions and authority on someone.”

And finally, I pointed out whether forcing an unwanted title on Demian was truly the right way to respect the ‘master of the sacred sword.’

Even to my own ears, it was flawless logic with no room for rebuttal.

[Demian wants to remain your knight? Well, I doubt that’s the case…]

As always, Hersella tried to spread unfounded slander, but—

‘Did you not hear last time? This matter is already settled.’

The conversation with Demian was already concluded. Hersella must have been asleep at the time and missed it.

[Demian said he would stay here? That’s surprising. What words did you use to butter him up?]

I didn’t butter him up. What is Demian, some kind of werebeast to be roasted and boiled?

‘Well, I just told him not to worry about Millia being left alone. I promised I’d take responsibility for comforting her and even find her a good match. I said I’d invite him to the wedding later.’

If by some remote chance I had to send Demian to another country, I couldn’t send Millia along too. There’s a limit to how much military power one can let slip away.

So if Demian chose to leave, he would have to part with Millia.

In that case, naturally, as Millia’s friend and lord, I would have to comfort her and help her start a new life.

So I promised to find her a suitable match, just to reassure him not to worry…

‘And then he said he wouldn’t leave and would stay here instead.’

After hearing my explanation, Demian, with a notably paler face, swore he would remain in this country.

In the past he might not have cared at all, but for the current Demian who had gained emotions, that scenario was apparently terrifying even to imagine.

Being invited to an ex-lover’s wedding and facing a former lover who seemed happier than before.

‘It’s good that Demian found his emotions.’

I smirked as I inhaled the cigarette smoke.

‘It’s convenient for persuasion when reactions are so predictable.’

I was proud of my eloquence, having firmly bound Demian with a single joke I never actually intended to carry out.

[…A demon. There’s a demon right here.]

Hersella let out a quiet groan in a seemingly disgusted voice.