Chapter 108

The Hunt of Arrogance

Lüben was a trade city in the central-eastern region of the Jokuster Empire and the capital of the County of Schnautfen.

Looking at its current prosperity as a trade hub, it was hard to imagine, but until just a few generations ago, this place had been avoided. The chaos of the previous era had left its mark, disrupting the flow of mana. It was a barren land where demonic realms could easily form and where life, aside from monsters, struggled to survive.

That situation was reversed over time as the mana flow stabilized and silver mines were discovered. People came to mine silver, to refine it, to sell it—people of all kinds gathered. The settlement grew into a city, and a lord took residence there.

At the peak of mining, such vast quantities were extracted that one out of every five imperial silver coins was said to be minted from Lüben silver. Though it no longer reached those heights, the city still prospered as a place where silver flowed. As the capital of the county and the central hub of trade routes in the empire’s mid-east, that was the city of Lüben.

However, when Roberta arrived at the northern gate, the city had its gates tightly shut despite it being broad daylight. As if refusing to admit even a single outsider, the gates were barred, and a strict defensive posture greeted Ulrich’s group.

“State your identity. Declare your purpose for visiting.”

A knight called down from atop the wall, his expression stiff with caution.

Seven carriages accompanied by guards—clearly not a merchant caravan. Given the circumstances, anyone would assume they were nobles fleeing pursuit. Accepting such a group recklessly in times like these would risk incurring the wrath of the opposing side. That was likely their thinking.

“This is His Majesty Alessandro, King of Parvije! He has come on business with Count Schnautfen, so open the gates!”

One of Alessandro’s guards stepped forward and shouted.

The knight’s expression hardened further.

“My apologies, but Lüben cannot receive Your Majesty.”

“What nonsense is this? A monarch of a nation has come as a guest, and you would turn him away?”

“We have heard that Your Majesty abandoned the throne and fled. And that imperial knights are in pursuit.”

Alessandro clicked his tongue.

“Damn it… merchants really are quick with news.”

Unaware of his muttering, the knight continued,

“The count will not risk danger for Your Majesty. Please turn back.”

Archers drew their bows, aiming down at the outsiders below the wall.

Alessandro cursed and looked at Ulrich. Ulrich guided his horse forward. Even as countless arrowheads were trained on him, he spoke calmly.

“Then tell them that Kormilius has come.”

The knight narrowed his eyes.

“A letter?”

“No. Carmelo Kormilius. Tell the count that, and she will understand.”

As the knight repeated the name to himself, his eyes widened.

“You are…?”

Instead of answering, Ulrich gestured with his chin.

The knight hesitated, then turned and disappeared beyond the wall.

“Whose name was that?”

Watching the commotion above, Alessandro asked.

“My name.”

“You said you were Ulrich Dithmarschen. Now suddenly Kormilius?”

“When one lives long enough, one ends up with many names.”

Alessandro frowned, creasing the space between his brows.

His gaze shifted to Roberta, silently asking if it was true. She nodded. In truth, it was a name she was hearing for the first time as well, but there was no way he was lying.

The names she knew him by already numbered in the dozens. And Kormilius was a lineage that claimed descent from Hestio. If Ulrich was Hestio himself, then Kormilius would be his descendants—so bearing one of their names was nothing unusual.

“So is this ‘Carmelo’ your real name?”

“If you insist on distinguishing, both Ulrich and Carmelo are my real names.”

He added that Carmelo simply came much earlier.

“What does that even—”

Failing to grasp the meaning, Alessandro frowned.

It means it’s not a borrowed name.

Roberta, on the other hand, understood.

Ulrich was a man of many names. But not all the names he used were truly his—some were borrowed, like Armin. When he said “my name,” he meant one he had created himself, not one taken from another.

She wondered when he had used the name Carmelo, and what he had done under it. Among the Kormilius she knew, there was no Carmelo. At the very least, it was a name that had not remained in oral tradition or written records.

As time passed amid the tangled mix of commotion and thought, the gates finally opened.

“I am Trine, Countess of Schnautfen.”

An elderly woman stepped out from the gate and bowed to Ulrich.

Ulrich remained seated on his saddle as he received her greeting.

“I am Carmelo. And this is His Majesty Alessandro, and Priest Roberta.”

Several gazes focused on him. Though their attitude was respectful, suspicion was clear in their eyes. They were judging whether the young man before them was truly Kormilius.

Roberta removed her glove and opened her hand, revealing a blue sigil on her palm.

When she displayed the mark proving her status as an ordained priest of the public church, the expressions of the retainers softened. There was a belief that a priest would not accompany someone falsely claiming to be Kormilius.

However, the count’s expression did not ease. Perhaps she suspected even the priest as an accomplice given the times—or perhaps she simply could not allow even Kormilius inside.

“Do you intend to keep us standing here?”

Ulrich broke the uneasy silence, looking down at the count.

When their eyes met, the count trembled.

“N-no, of course not.”

As if struck by a biting cold, she swallowed hard and stepped back.

Roberta did not miss the sight of mana flickering around the count like a heat haze.

“Please, come inside… I will guide you.”

Lowering her pale face, the count avoided his gaze.

The moment their eyes met, she had felt something. Though it lasted only an instant, she had not grasped its true nature—perhaps she perceived it as something like overwhelming presence.

That fleeting moment was enough for her to cast aside her doubts. If someone of the hidden lineage claiming descent from Hestio were to prove themselves, there could be no more fitting sign.

“My… my apologies.”

A servant placed a teacup down with trembling hands.

“It’s fine.”

Ulrich smiled as he said so.

He meant it to reassure, but it had the opposite effect. The servant hurriedly set down the refreshments as if about to spill them, then quickly fled the reception room.

Roberta let out a quiet chuckle. He was as he always was. The only difference was that he now called himself Carmelo Kormilius instead of Ulrich Dithmarschen—there was no halo, no visible divine power. And yet, even so—

Even if their glory had waned, Kormilius was still a lineage with divine blood. The servant’s reaction was simply what an ordinary person would show upon encountering someone of sacred blood.

That was precisely why Jokuster and the anti-divine faction had put forward “Kiara” as the legitimate heir. Nobles might resist, but commoners would never dare oppose someone of divine lineage.

“Um…”

Count Trine carefully opened her mouth.

“…May I ask why you have come to see me?”

She kept glancing at him, unable to hide her unease.

Though it lasted only an instant, the count—having experienced her composure slipping away—could no longer meet Ulrich’s gaze. Her eyes were naturally sharp, yet now they softened, making her look like a gentle old woman.

“I’ve come to borrow your strength. I intend to go to Parvije, and I need your help.”

The count glanced briefly at Alessandro.

“You require an escort.”

“The more, the better.”

Ulrich tilted his teacup.

“My apologies… but I cannot assist you at this time.”

“I see.”

Perhaps troubled by his indifferent response, the count quickly continued.

“As you know, Sir Carmelo, the situation is extremely dire. Since the defeat at Sorebel, more and more people have begun to change sides. If we move our forces rashly at a time like this, who knows what might happen. Once the situation improves—”

“And what will you do if the situation worsens?”

The count froze.

“You just said it yourself. People will switch sides.”

From the side, Alessandro curled his lips into a mocking smile.

“N-no! How could I possibly do such a thing?”

“What do you mean, how? If anything, the later it gets, the more eagerly they’ll do it.”

Leaning back crookedly in his seat, he bit noisily into a piece of dried fruit.

“At this point, siding with the emperor won’t earn you much. The value of help changes depending on the situation, doesn’t it? Besides, you’re close to Kormilius. It was Kormilius that guaranteed Schnautfen’s interests here, right?”

The count bit her dry lips, staring at the young king.

“Think carefully, Count. When the emperor’s brat is winning, do you think he’ll feel grateful for help from someone who served as Kormilius’s lackey? Once it’s all over, he might just hunt you down like a dog. No—he definitely will. Because if Kormilius falls, everything changes.”

The Third Age of Humanity had been established and upheld by Kormilius. Although it was nominally called the age of the Jokuster dynasty—since each change of dynasty had marked a new era—it was only in name.

The Jokuster royal family had only recently become independent from Kormilius and attained comparable power. Until barely half a century ago, the emperor was little more than a vassal of Kormilius.

What would happen after Jokuster brought Kormilius down? They had put forward a single child as the legitimate heir of Hestio, but that was still just one person. That could not fill the void left by the Kormilius lineage.

“Even if the public church and the Pantheon remain, it will become something entirely different from before. It will practically be the opening of a new age. Count—do you think you can survive that change?”

As the words ended, Ulrich set his teacup down with a soft tap.

“If you believe you can, then you may as well capture us now and offer us to the emperor.”

Startled, the count lifted her head.

Her expression clearly said such a thing was unthinkable.

“I dislike framing things in absolutes, but the situation isn’t lenient enough to respect the middle ground. I came here to demand that choice from you.”

Ulrich’s gaze shifted behind Count Trine.

“However, I won’t rely solely on coercion. Help given in difficult times—even if small—leaves a lasting impression.”

Several portraits hung on the walls of the reception room. Among them, Ulrich briefly looked at one depicting a man standing with two children.

“Do you have children?”

Following his gaze, the count turned to look behind her.

“My son and grandchildren. It was painted two years ago.”

“Then they have not yet been betrothed, I assume.”

“Not yet, but…”

Ulrich interlaced his fingers, resting them on his abdomen as he leaned back in his chair. For a moment, he tilted his head upward as if gazing at the sky, instead looking at the ceiling of the reception room. The count waited anxiously for what he would say next.

“I do not believe in the purity of blood. Nor do I think one must remain bound by such constraints. But that doesn’t mean I ignore its value. I know how precious the ‘purity’ created by Kormilius is to humans. If it is offered, no one can refuse it.”

Not only the count, but also Alessandro, Fritz, and even Roberta widened their eyes.

“Are you proposing a marriage alliance with us—personally?”

Ulrich gave a faint smile toward Roberta, who was watching him closely, then answered the count.

“Not myself. There are a few children—of collateral lineage—who belong to Kormilius but remain unpaired. Unfortunately, to preserve their value, they are destined to live their lives as tools. If you agree, I would like to assign them worth.”

Though collateral, the Kormilius lineage strictly managed its genealogy to preserve the divine value of Hestio’s blood. Even those of collateral lines were limited in number—so their worth did not diminish simply because they were not of the direct line.

“Can you guarantee such a promise?”

“Of course.”

Ulrich nodded.

“You can send someone to the Pantheon and confirm it.”

“That… would take too much time.”

“Which is why, for now, I can only ask you to trust me.”

The count stared at Ulrich.

He was calm—so calm it was as if offering divine blood held no particular value to him.

In contrast, the count’s eyes trembled violently. The price he offered was immeasurable to her—far too great for her to remain composed.

“…There is too much to gain to refuse.”

At last, Count Trine let out a long breath.

In a world created by the divine, who would reject the chance for their family’s blood to mingle with divine blood?

“And one more thing. It would be good if you spread word as well.”

“What message should I convey?”

Ulrich thought for a moment before answering.

“Tell those who hesitate, like you, to move—that the one who earns the greatest merit will be given the same opportunity to mingle blood. And as guarantors, attach the names Carmelo, Ertie, and Oscar.”

The count repeated the three names to herself.

“The latter two names…?”

“They are secret. Only a few know them.”