Chapter 68

Can You Hear This Silence

The carriage was heading toward Black Goose Village.

“Mana responds to the will of sentient beings with sensitivity. And within that, the being’s worldview is reflected.”

Isaac spoke while alternating his gaze between Jonas and Enette.
Carlson, occupying one corner of the carriage, silently stared out the window.
He had little interest in magic.

“This berry—what color does it look like to you?”
“Ruby!”
“…Red.”

Each gave their own answer as they looked at the gooseberry Isaac held between his fingers.

“To me, it looks like the color of a sunset. You see? The world is subjective to every sentient being.”
“Subjective?”
“Yes. When a sentient being observes something, what’s reflected isn’t just the object’s essence, but the observer’s own nature. Even when looking at the same knife, one person imagines a cooking tool, while another imagines cutting someone.”

Enette, who had looked as though she were hearing a foreign language, relaxed as Isaac explained.

“This is where the foundation of magic lies. Magic is forcing your own subjectivity onto the external world.”
“By putting your will into mana?”
“Exactly. Smart, Jonas.”
“Hehe.”

Isaac ruffled Jonas’s hair, and Jonas grinned brightly.
Enette, meanwhile, looked as though she had been given another riddle to solve.

“Alright, Enette. Practice. Just like last time—gather mana, and this time, try giving it a property.”
“S-suddenly?”

Enette’s eyes widened.

***

“…So it was you, Your Excellency.”

The marquis spoke as he looked at the glass sphere containing the severed head.

In the end, the marquis’s expectations had been correct.
If he mobilized all available force, the hidden opponent would reveal themselves.

What the opponent wanted was the city’s interests—or control of the city itself.
They wouldn’t intend to destroy it.

Even now, mercenaries were gathering on the southwestern plains of Bern City.
Altogether, they numbered over five hundred.
He had scattered enough money, along with several great houses, to ensure that.

If the hidden opponent turned out to be the count,
the count would find it difficult to avoid suspicion of rebellion from the royal court.
A force of that size suddenly converging on the city—
it would be hard to explain.
And the royal court would believe the marquis, their inspector, without question—
rather than the descendant of the monster who once burned the capital a century ago.

Even if it wasn’t the count,
the opponent would be forced to decide as they watched the city being trampled by five hundred mercenaries:
abandon the city,
or reveal themselves and negotiate.

One of the two.

In the end, it was the count who stepped out from behind the veil.
Exactly as the marquis intended.
Now all that remained was to deal with him accordingly.

But not everything went as planned.

The study had grown cold.
Not because the air itself had chilled—
but because of an eerie, bone-freezing sensation.
Goosebumps rose along his arms.

It was the count’s mana.
And within it—
the will to kill.
Pure killing intent.

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

A twisted smile flickered briefly across the count’s lips.
Then he returned to his usual expressionless gaze.

The marquis could not bring himself to meet those eyes.
It was a fear born of instinct.
It felt as though not air, but freezing water was filling his lungs.
Breathing became difficult.

This was why he had come prepared—
wearing demesitrium chainmail and numerous enchanted protective artifacts.
But he had underestimated the count.

The expensive magical tools were useless before him.
They did nothing to shield him from the cold or the suffocating pressure.

“I’ll ask again. Do you know anything about this?”

The count gestured toward the glass sphere.
But to the marquis, it sounded like the low growl of a predator.

A predator’s growl stiffens its prey’s muscles, slows their movements.
Marquis Conrad von Dietrich—
since attaining his title, he had rarely, if ever, found himself in such a position.

He had always been the predator—
never the prey.

“……”

In that moment, he understood.

The man sitting before him could, with a mere flick of his hand,
reduce all the wealth and power he had built to ashes.

No matter how much one possesses,
it all becomes meaningless once life is lost.

He realized once more how true that old adage was.

“You’re sweating quite a bit. Are you unwell?”

As the count spoke,
the storm of mana ceased—like a blizzard coming to a sudden stop.

“Gasp… gasp…”

The marquis inhaled sharply, like someone who had just surfaced from drowning.

“My apologies. The smoke must have made the air heavy.”

The count opened the window.
Fresh air flowed in.

“You did put in some effort, I see.”

The marquis forced a bitter smile.

He had never expected this to be easy.
This was nothing more than the count’s last struggle—
like the final cry of a beast cornered to death.

As long as he didn’t lose his composure,
capturing a trapped beast would be simple.

He steadied himself.

“…Judging by the fact that you’ve placed this ‘piece’ before me, I assume you’ve secured the ledger as evidence as well.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Unfortunately for you, I have many cards. And you only have this one.”

Though the count questioned him, the marquis continued.

The moment the glass sphere had been presented,
the war had already begun.

“In case you’re unaware, covering up something like this is trivial for me. There are countless people who can take the blame in my stead. No matter that I am a robe noble—I am still a noble. To lay a hand on a noble without trial is tantamount to challenging the royal court. And the court will side with me, not you.”

The count neither confirmed nor denied—
he simply stared.

“And what about you, Count? If I formally request an investigation from the Holy See in my capacity as inspector, what do you think will happen to the Goethe house? Do you think those who already see you as a thorn in their side will remain idle? You could end up making the entire Old Church your enemy. Can you handle that?”

He continued without pause.

“You must have revealed your hidden card after hearing about the mercenaries gathering in Bern City. But it’s unfortunate. Until the city gains autonomy, those mercenaries will not be disbanded.”

“Marquis. I will give you a chance.”

The count, who had been listening silently, finally spoke.

“If you disband the mercenaries now and withdraw your unreasonable demands, I will overlook your insolence. And I will not hold you accountable for the harm you’ve caused Bern City thus far.”

“Hahaha!”

The marquis burst into laughter, as though he had just heard something truly amusing.

“With the scales so clearly tipped, it seems you’ve miscalculated.”
“This is your last chance. There will not be a second.”

Despite the marquis’s mockery, the count’s tone remained steady.

“I understand. You have no means to disband the mercenaries. You cannot withdraw Winterband’s forces, you cannot hire mercenaries due to military restrictions, your people are busy with planting season, and with no heir decided, you cannot rely on your vassals or collateral branches. That would only invite internal conflict.”

“……”

“Yes, yes, I know. With your renowned mastery of magic, a few hundred rabble would be nothing. But coincidentally, the mercenary group Arkanlaufer is currently staying in Baldarin. You’ve heard of them, I assume—a unit composed entirely of professional mages. It seems they had just finished a job and were resting. They, too, are heading for Bern City. Of course, even without them, you cannot use magic to kill without royal permission.”

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about. But I do understand that the scales are tilted in your favor.”

“Then make the wise decision. One signature is all it takes.”

The marquis, as if he had been waiting for this moment, produced a rolled parchment.

The document stated that full autonomy of Bern City would be transferred to the marquis and the great houses—in other words, the city council.

The count silently read through the parchment.

“It’s nothing much. Just recognition as a free city. So that merchants can live more comfortably.”

Contrary to the marquis’s words, every clause written on the parchment stripped away the lord’s authority.
From the right to organize militias for city defense, to independent judicial power, autonomous trade, the ability to join city alliances, and even the right to pay taxes directly to the king—
it outlined the creation of a separate domain within Goethe territory, controlled solely by the marquis and the great houses.

“……”

The count set the parchment down and looked out the window.
The marquis studied his expression carefully, but nothing showed.

“There is still something I have not yet placed on my side of the scale.”
“Resistance is pointless, Count. You have only two choices. Recognize autonomy now, or recognize it after your house suffers irreparable harm. So—”

“Do you not hear it?”
“…What?”

“This sound.”
“What sound are you talking about?”

The marquis frowned at the count’s seemingly evasive response.

“I hear nothing. Are you hearing things because you refuse to accept reality?”
“Exactly. You hear nothing.”
“What nonsense are you—”
“This silence. Can you not hear this silence?”
“…!”

Suddenly, the marquis’s eyes widened.

He sprang to his feet and rushed to the window.

Even though it was open, it was silent.
There should have been dozens of men gathered around the carriages outside.
They weren’t close enough for distinct noise, but at least murmurs should have been audible.

Yet there was nothing.
Not even the sounds of the estate servants.
It was completely silent—
as if no one were there at all.

“…When did this—”

The garden was now littered with corpses.
All of them were the marquis’s mercenaries, clad in plate armor.
Guards were in the process of clearing away the bodies.

At that moment, the marquis’s gaze met the head attendant, who was overseeing the cleanup.
The old man bowed calmly, as if nothing had happened,
then continued quietly instructing the guards to clear away the blood and flesh scattered across the garden.

“……”

The marquis felt every hair on his body stand on end.

This time, it wasn’t the count’s mana.
He himself felt it—pure dread.

Even while they had been talking,
the count had cast a soundproofing spell, ensuring that no outside noise reached them.
He had waited—until the marquis revealed his true intentions, until the depths of his ambition were laid bare.

Now that the truth was confirmed,
what remained for the marquis?

“You spoke of scales? Then I shall place just one thing on mine.”

The count tapped the ash from his pipe and packed it again as he spoke.

“Your life. With that, I believe my side of the scale becomes heavier. Have I calculated correctly now?”

“Y-you must have seen the letter. This is no bluff. By now, nearly five hundred mercenaries—”

“Ah, that. That will be difficult. If you don’t believe me, shall we go confirm it together?”

The count rose and looked at the marquis.

The marquis instinctively took a step back.
Had the count always been this… large?
The marquis himself was tall, yet now he felt as though he were facing a bear in the forest.

***

Southwest of Bern City.

Unlike other areas, where homes dotted the land beyond the moat,
the southwestern region was completely empty—
a place where hundreds, even thousands, could gather.

“Still want to continue?”

Pallich stood upright, his sword planted into the ground.

The men who had gathered upon hearing of the outrageously high contract fees had lost their will to fight.
Pallich, along with Weissman standing beside him—
and even the aura users known as Weissman’s swordsmen—

There was no way to win against them, neither in numbers nor in skill.

At a glance, there were over fifty of them, tightly united,
while the men who had come to enlist as mercenaries were divided.
Some had no intention of spilling blood without even signing a contract,
while others resented Weissman for interfering with what they saw as easy money.

But those in the latter group—
whether dead or alive—were now all sprawled across the ground.

“Is that all?”

Gerald untied the cloth binding his sword hand and wrist.
His circulation had been cut off, leaving his wrist numb.
The bleeding where his nails had been torn out had stopped, but the pain still made gripping a sword difficult.

“Seems so.”

Pallich spoke as he watched the scattered men carrying away their wounded.

“Was it really the right choice to side with Goethe?”

To Gerald, nothing about Goethe sat well.
Carlson had ripped out his nails, and Bill had once been the leader of the Niers organization—an enemy marked for elimination by the marquis.

But what bothered him most wasn’t them.

It was the first son of the Goethe house.

He had thought him to be nothing more than a pampered brat,
but he couldn’t read him at all.

He obeyed Violet’s orders, but doubt still lingered.

“There’s no time to think too deeply. Looks like the negotiations didn’t go well.”

Pallich pulled his sword from the ground.
His gaze was fixed toward the city’s western gate.

A formation of soldiers approaching, led by cavalry.
Three riders at the front—
each bearing a different banner.
Altogether, more than a hundred men.

Private troops of the great houses that controlled this city.

“…Just how far ahead did that kid think?”

Gerald frowned.