The conqueror from a dyi.., p.17
The Conqueror from a Dying Kingdom: Volume 5, page 17
Ange held no real power within the crusade forces. It had just been a coincidence that this particular long-eared had been picked up by one of her patrols. If she were the only one to receive information from him—thanks to a few cheap promises—then the intel she shared might not be treated with the importance it deserved.
There was also the possibility that her lies would only get him to talk once, after which he might stay quiet. He might even make things difficult by demanding a written agreement before he’d repeat the same statements in front of others.
If possible, Ange wanted someone with a higher rank within the crusade forces to hear the information with her.
She immediately escorted the man, who called himself Jaco Yoda, to the Papal State’s tent.
Although her older brother was the emperor of her home country, Angelica chose to take the Shanti to the leader of the Papal State’s forces. The sad fact was that the creep from the Papal State held her in higher regard than anyone else. If she had taken the prisoner to her brother Alfred, he would’ve ignored her, and the opportunity to gain information was likely to be squandered.
“Excuse me.”
When Ange arrived, Epitaph Palazzo, the war minister leading the Volunteer Knight Order, was praying inside a tent serving as a makeshift temple.
“Oh, Lady Angelica. What brings you here?” Epitaph rose from his kneeling position and turned to face her.
“An interesting Shanti surrendered himself to us, so I brought him to you... I hope I haven’t interrupted your prayer.”
“You don’t need to worry about that.”
“That’s a relief. The captive claims to know the whereabouts of a blonde Shanti.”
“Oh. That’s most interesting.”
“Indeed. That’s why I brought him to you.”
“Well, we must interrogate him at once.”
Interrogate? He must mean torture.
“There’s no need. He says he’ll talk in exchange for favorable treatment.”
“Treatment?”
“He wants to live freely within our territories, and he wants money.”
“Pfft.” Epitaph burst out laughing. He seemed really entertained by the thought, like he’d just heard a good joke. “Hah, ah hah... That’s an amusing idea. Freedom for a demon. He must be confused.”
“Indeed, but a few false promises might get the information out of him easier than torture.”
“Yes, you may be right,” Epitaph agreed.
Torture essentially meant causing a subject great suffering while repeatedly asking them to tell everything they knew. Unfortunately, the information extracted that way was often unreliable.
If one was fortunate enough to capture someone with the right information, then torture was an ideal method for extracting it from them. But it was often unclear whether the subject had all the answers they sought. The torturer couldn’t just believe the subject when they claimed ignorance in response to a question, so they’d have to continue making them suffer. The subject might then answer the question by making things up, hoping to make the torture stop. If the torturer had no way to verify the information, they might then fall for the subject’s lies.
All a torturer could do was cause pain. They couldn’t determine when someone was holding information back, or when someone without information was making it up.
Torturing someone who knew nothing in the first place would result in them giving nothing but false information as they tried to escape the pain, which might be taken as fact. This was actually a common problem. Something like instructions for cracking a coded message could easily be verified, but an army’s plans couldn’t be so easily checked. If one’s own army then acted on the false information, the consequences could be serious.
“He’s waiting outside,” Angelica said. “Please allow me to take you to him.”
Despite its simplicity, this tent was a temple. It wouldn’t be an appropriate place to interrogate someone.
“Very well.”
Ange and Epitaph both stepped outside.
Outside the tent, the man was kneeling on the ground, his arms bound behind his back. With him were two of Ange’s soldiers and the interpreter.
The interpreter had idly placed his left hand on the frame of the tent and was half leaning against it, but he soon stood up straight when he saw Ange and Epitaph emerge.
“Is this person your interpreter?” Epitaph asked.
“That’s correct. He’s with me.”
The interpreter tattoo was widely recognized across the world. In addition to being the mark of a slave, it signified that he’d mastered two languages and could speak them without ever sounding unnatural. Even slave hunters, who were more or less kidnappers, wouldn’t touch anyone with this tattoo. Interpreters were always owned by influential nobles, military officers, or slave traders who often needed their services. Anyone who tried to steal such a slave would face reprisals from the owner.
“Place your arm out,” Epitaph said to the interpreter.
“Hm? As you wish, Sir.”
“Not that one. The left arm.”
“Yes, Sir.”
The interpreter lowered his right arm and raised the left.
“It is an affront for a demon like yourself to touch this consecrated temple. I must administer justice in my capacity as war minister.”
Epitaph suddenly drew the saber at his waist. Ange quickly guessed what he was about to do—he was going to cut off the interpreter’s arm. It came as a shock to Ange because Epitaph hadn’t appeared angry at all.
“Lord Epitaph!” she cried. “This is my own interpreter. Please forgive him.”
Epitaph knitted his brow. “Lady Angelica... You’re a gentle soul. In most circumstances, the correct course of action would be to execute a demon who defiled a sacred temple.”
As Ange suspected, he’d been offended by the long-eared’s actions. As always, she struggled to read him.
“If we accept that there’s no sin in ignorance, then the mistake is mine for failing to inform him that the tent was a temple. For my sake, please, overlook his transgression.”
The teaching of no sin in ignorance came from a parable in the Book of Noc in which Yeesus forgave a child who stole fruit without realizing he’d done it. Since there hadn’t been anything outside to indicate that the tent was a temple, Ange herself hadn’t realized it until she stepped inside. That made the interpreter even more innocent than the boy from the parable. It was as if he’d picked up a rock, only to find he’d stolen a piece of fruit. It would be too cruel to cut off his arm over this.
“Hm...”
“What’s more, if you injure him, I’ll be forced to send for a new one.”
She looked at the interpreter. He’d figured out what was going on and was now down on the floor begging for forgiveness. That was wise.
“Out of respect for you, Lady Angelica, I will forgive him this time,” Epitaph said, perhaps feeling somewhat satisfied by the interpreter’s groveling.
“Thank you.”
“Now, this must be the demon you mentioned,” Epitaph said as he looked down at the captive.
Unable to understand what anyone was saying, Jaco Yoda appeared utterly confused as he knelt there with his arms bound.
“That’s correct.”
“Translate for me,” Epitaph told the interpreter.
Epitaph of the Papal State’s army no doubt had his own interpreter, but he was using Ange’s at that moment.
“You can get up,” Ange told him, and the interpreter slowly and fearfully got to his feet.
“State your demand,” Epitaph said. The interpreter quickly repeated Epitaph’s words to Jaco Yoda in Shanish.
“As I said before, I want to live a free life in your lands, with a high enough salary to be comfortable.” This time the interpreter translated Jaco Yoda’s words to Kulatish and relayed them to Epitaph.
“Very well. I’ll see to it that you’re recognized as a noble, and your requests granted. Now tell us everything you know.”
“All right. It’s a promise? Then I’ll tell you.”
✧✧✧
“...and they set out from here six days ago. They’re probably following the main coastal roads to avoid running into your army in the north.”
All the information the man gave, from start to finish, was surprisingly valuable. To Ange’s surprise, the one who’d brought down the dragon was the eldest son of the Ho family—a name familiar to her—and he’d been with a blonde princess. No one could have guessed that. The one that got away turned out to be a bigger fish than they’d ever imagined.
“And this is just a rumor, but I think this kingdom’s princess escaped with them too.”
“Oh... You mean Princess Tellur?” Epitaph asked.
Ange was a little surprised to learn that Epitaph had actually memorized the name of this kingdom’s royalty.
“Exactly. She’s one of those blonde princesses that your kind love so much.” Jaco Yoda’s mouth twisted into a disgusting sneer. “In fact, that’s the whole reason I escaped. I said I wasn’t going to obey a royal family whose chief concern was getting themselves to safety.”
He was running his mouth now, saying things that no one had asked him about.
“Now tell us about the state of the city and how you escaped,” Ange said. Since they were talking through the interpreter, Ange decided it was better to ask in Kulatish rather than Shanish.
Anything they learned about the city might actually prove more important than anything else he could tell them. They might even learn something that would aid their assault.
The interpreter relayed the question.
“Well... I don’t know much.”
“Why not?”
“I got out during the night while avoiding everyone. Though the rope I used to get down from the city wall is probably still there... Or maybe someone removed it already.”
Given how easily he’d been giving up information, he clearly wasn’t holding anything back out of fear of betraying his people.
If what he’d just said was true, then he hadn’t been a city guard who could leave the city at will, Ange thought. More likely, he’d been held in the dungeon and then found a chance to escape amid the turmoil of war. Someone who’d fled and tried to avoid detection wouldn’t have a chance to talk to anyone. He wouldn’t even have had the opportunity to step out onto the main streets or approach the city gates to see what had been going on there. In short, Jaco Yoda wouldn’t know what was going on around the castle, and he wouldn’t have learned the city’s weaknesses.
“Lady Ange, have you more questions for the creature?”
“No.” She’d asked all she cared to know.
“Well then.” Epitaph drew his sword and cut the man’s throat without warning.
“Nguh...” The man stared at Epitaph with disbelief. Next, it was Ange he looked at with the same expression.
He tried to talk, but the words wouldn’t come out because blood filled his airway. He was clutching at his throat with his hands, but he had so little strength left that it accomplished nothing. The cut went more than halfway through his neck, after all. His face, meanwhile, was still full of expression. He glared at Ange with eyes that burned with hatred.
To prevent the blood from spraying toward him, Epitaph gave Jaco Yoda a gentle kick to his chest, causing him to fall onto his back. Now he was looking at the sky instead of Ange, and a few moments later, he stopped moving.
Ange wasn’t about to ask something like, Didn’t you promise to make him a noble? That would’ve been a stupid question. But if his information had been correct, Ange had planned to at least take him outside the siege and let him go. She realized now that there’d never been any chance of that from the moment she’d gotten Epitaph involved.
Feeling somewhat responsible, Ange was left sickened by the whole ordeal.
✧✧✧
Representatives from each nation had gathered for a crusader’s war council. Though few sovereigns attended, princes of various kinds were right at home. It was exceedingly rare for so many nobles of this caliber to be gathered in one place.
Only the Euphos Federation lacked a representative at the council. Their forces had gone to a city to the north to ensure that the siege of Reforme couldn’t be broken from behind by the city’s soldiers.
Once the council’s regular announcements had concluded, Epitaph Palazzo raised his hand.
It was Emperor Alfred—the highest-ranking person there—who acknowledged him. “Lord Epitaph, you may speak.”
Epitaph was sitting directly to the right of Alfred, who himself was sitting at the very top of the long table. That meant Epitaph had the second-highest seat.
“Lady Angelica captured a demon a short while ago. We interrogated him together and were able to extract important information. I’d like for Lady Angelica to explain the rest.”
At this, Ange stood up. “Please allow me to explain. First, I’ll have to go back some way and talk about the dragon slayer who we failed to apprehend. We have determined that he’s the nephew of the one who killed Emperor Alfred’s father—who is, of course, also my own father—Lenizicht Sacramenta.”
The news made the atmosphere at the council turn tense.
“Politically, he’s an important individual set to inherit a region to the south of the Shiyalta Kingdom, known as Ho Province. It’s home to the Shiyalta Kingdom’s most fertile soils, and the Ho family is one of the most—no, the most powerful family in the kingdom. Moreover, we’ve learned that he was accompanied by Princess Carol of Shiyalta’s royal family.”
The council attendees began to murmur to one another. They had difficulty accepting such an incredible claim so readily. In fact, it seemed to have struck the attendees as absurd.
“It seems you have questions,” Ange noted.
The man who raised his hand in response was Fritz Ronnie from the Galilee Union.
Like many dispatched from Galilee, he was born a commoner. Though he had many decorations, his title was nothing but an honorary one that made him a knight. For that reason, he was sitting near the bottom of the table, close to Ange.
There was a perceptive look in Fritz’s eyes. Eyes like those typically belonged to merchants looking for opportunities to win over kings—they saw through to the true nature of things.
“Please go ahead,” Ange said.
“Lady Angelica, you’re more knowledgeable about the state of the Shiyalta Kingdom than anyone else here. My question to you is simple: Why is the kingdom’s princess at the front line?”
It was an obvious question to ask. A princess would normally be raised in safety, secluded in some tower.
Though Ange knew much about many nations, she couldn’t possibly gain a deep understanding of the personality of every insignificant royal child from Shiyalta and Kilhina. She was genuinely at a loss to explain why a princess would visit the front line.
“I don’t know for sure, but perhaps she...has a personality like mine.”
Although their circumstances were very different, Ange and Carol were both princesses who’d set out to the front line. The remark was taken half in jest, producing a wave of subdued laughter among the attendees.
“Ah, I understand,” Fritz Ronnie replied before withdrawing the hand he’d rested on the table and leaning back against his chair’s backrest. His gesture had made it clear that he was done talking and had no further questions.
Ange waited a few moments to be sure that no one would ask anything else.
“Now, if I may continue. We were told that the pair arrived in Reforme in the evening seven days ago, and the following day they both departed for Shiyalta with a party consisting of Kilhina’s princess, a thousand civilians, and three hundred soldiers.”
Silence immediately replaced the once heated atmosphere of the council.
Two blonde princesses and a key noble from an enemy nation had escaped—it was bad news. In addition, they’d lost a great number of defenseless civilians they could have enslaved. The temptation to pursue this walking source of treasure was undeniable, but the task was too great if they’d left six days ago.
The targets would be slowed down by the civilians they were dragging along with them. If they’d only had a day or two head start, a horse might have been able to run the entire distance and catch up with them before it needed rest. Unfortunately, a six-day head start meant that any pursuers would need substantial supplies to support them.
And, of course, all would be lost if they managed to catch up, only to be defeated. To go after three hundred soldiers, six hundred soldiers would need to be dispatched. Considerable effort would be required to provide provisions to such a force of mounted soldiers. And even in that case, there was no guarantee that the target would be captured.
Though it looked like a golden opportunity, the chance had already passed. There were too many problems from a logistical perspective. This conclusion was so obvious that agreement quickly spread through the members of the council.
“Lady Angelica, thank you,” Epitaph said. “Please sit down.”
Ange took her seat once more.
“I propose that we, the Papal State, go after them,” Epitaph said.
There was more murmuring among the attendees. Some made no attempt to hide their frowns. It was also the first time Ange had heard Epitaph’s proposal.
“I’ll take a thousand of our elite soldiers. It would seem that the three hundred soldiers the enemy chose were the youngest in the city. A thousand members of the Volunteer Knight Order will crush them with ease,” Epitaph declared confidently.
What he said was true. Many of the youngsters would be poorly trained, and they’d have no experience fighting as a group. An army that had been hastily gathered, then set out the next day might be weaker than an army of conscripted peasants.
Unlike ordinary soldiers from the Papal State, the soldiers of the Volunteer Knight Order under Epitaph’s command were an elite unit that served the pope directly. It was a force with unparalleled proficiency and morale that stuck to the old traditions of the Xurxes Holy Empire. If Jaco Yoda had spoken the truth, then a thousand members of the Volunteer Knight Order would be more than enough. In fact, a surprise attack with merely a hundred of their healthy soldiers might have sufficed.
