Akatsuki Translations

In the southern region of the Divine Kingdom of Proulich.

A typical scene in this region is the vast plains and farmland, displaying a rich pastoral landscape.

This grain-producing region, known as the bread basket of the Divine Kingdom, is governed by about three hundred noble families, large and small. Among them is the territory of Count Retes.

The Retes County borders the sea to the east and south. Located at the southernmost tip of the southern region, further on, only two viscounties and two baronies lie to the west.

Within the territory, there are over fifty villages and around four towns that serve as their centers, all connected by roads leading to the capital city. It’s one of the prominent territories in the south, recognized by any noble in the Divine Kingdom.

Moreover, being a frontier in the south and a relay point for maritime transport, bustling commercial cities brimming with trade with foreign countries line up. Naturally, the end of the road from the capital to the sea is a port town, where goods are continuously being loaded and unloaded.

Traveling south from the royal capital, Bovaldia, along the coastal road by carriage takes eight days. From there, bypassing the vast forest known as the Evil Forest and heading southeast takes another eight days by carriage. Counting from the royal capital, the capital city of Retes County, Retesvale, is approximately half a month’s distance.

The city is divided east and west by canals, further segmented north and south by several tributaries. The city spans about two square kilometers with a population of around 10,000.

Every day, many horse-drawn carriages travel the roads, making the capital especially lively.

Vast wheat fields and forests surround the city, separated from the farmland by towering stone walls. Another set of walls further divides the city, a castle wall.

Inside the city, the most prominent building is undoubtedly the castle, which is impossible to miss.

The castle’s walls are made of stone, and though currently drained due to the approaching winter season, a moat surrounds it.

The fortified and meticulous defenses, not just for the city but also for the castle, are characteristic of frontier areas.

Given the castle’s prominence, any visitor would naturally wish to enter at least once.

However, typically that’s not feasible.

Because everything inside the castle walls is treated as the private space of the lord and their family.

Just a few days ago, at this castle that flaunted the power of nobility, a letter arrived. The sender was the head of a certain baron family.

For this reason, the castle today presents a different ambiance.

“Hey, the castle gate is open.”

“I wonder what’s going on.”

The knights on guard notice the unusual openness of the castle gate.

It’s clear something is happening when the usually closed gate for security reasons is open and the drawbridge is lowered.

The main gate opens when there are guests, during festivals, when the lord travels with a large group, or when heading into battle.

While patrolling, they hope it isn’t for war, perhaps influenced by a recent incident where some colleagues died fighting bandits.

Even though they are called guard knights, more accurately, they are high-class retainers. They receive a considerable salary from the count, are allowed to ride horses, but their status are of rear vassals.

They too have many things they are unaware of and don’t know why the bridge is lowered.

“What are you guys lazing around for? What about your patrols?” -Chief Retainer

“Ah, chief retainer. We just finished patrolling the back. But why is someone of your rank here?” -Guard Knight

“Wait, is it a war?” -Guard Knight

As they approach the gate chatting, they notice a familiar face.

Their superior, the leader of the first platoon. He is also the chief retainer in charge of over eight hundred other retainers. Though he bore the title of a retainer, in a territory as prosperous as the Count of Retes’s domain, the retainer’s leader possessed more wealth and power than most lackluster nobles. In the heart of the Count of Retes’s fief, there stood a man who was among the foremost, stationed at the gates.

It’s no wonder they jumped to the conclusion of war. They received only a wry smile in return.

“No, it’s not that. Apparently, we have guests today. Her highness has ordered us to line up troops as a show of force, perhaps to intimidate them.” -Chief Retainer

“Oh, so that’s why the castle gate is open. We’ll return to our patrol, then.” -Guard Knight

“Wait. Tell the second and third platoons to arm themselves and line up at the gate. And quickly.” -Chief Retainer

“Yes, sir. I’ll relay the message to the second and third platoons to arm and line up at the gate.” -Guard Knight

“Good.” -Chief Retainer

With a swift repetition of the command and an impeccable posture to match, it was evident that their training had been thorough.

They stood erect, their spines seemingly infused with unwavering resolve, and then dashed forward with a purposeful stride.

As winter drew near, the chill in the air grew sharper.

The wide-open gates, more than serving as mere entrances and exits, bore the brunt of the encroaching cold. The chief retainer, gazing down upon the cityscape below, shivered involuntarily.

During the hour he stands enduring the cold, a crowd gathers. Nearly a hundred people, separated into two groups of around fifty, all dressed alike.

They wear polished armor, with ornate scabbards at their waists. They haven’t put on their helmets but hold them by their sides.

A group that looks unmistakably strong, armed to the teeth.

They are the infantry brigade of Count Retes’s territory.

Under the flag of Count Retes, the vassals are organized into twelve platoons. The first platoon is always used as cavalry and also serves as close aides, followed by platoons two to twelve, each consisting of fifty members.

Now, gathered at the gate are the second and third platoons, the elite forces that Count Retes takes pride in.

“Everyone, line up!!” -Chief Retainer

The chief retainer’s loud voice echoes.

In response to his voice, the soldiers move briskly. With each platoon leader at the front, they quickly form seven rows. The chief retainer’s gaze over the platoons is stern.

“Roll call!” -Chief Retainer

The soldiers’ voices echo in unison, and absences are checked.

“Second platoon, all present!”

“Third platoon, all present!”

“Hmm.” -Chief Retainer

After confirming everyone’s presence with a slight nod, the chief retainer begins to speak.

“Today, we will be receiving guests. According to prior communication, there will be two. One of them is Lord Morteln.” -Chief Retainer

There’s a murmur of surprise.

“Silence. The other guest is Lord Morteln’s son. We will be welcoming these two today. Do not do anything to tarnish her higness’ flag. Show them the grandeur of our army.” -Chief Retainer

“”Yes, sir!””

“Alright, at ease.” -Chief Retainer

With a collective shuffle, the assembled soldiers spread their feet shoulder-width apart. Although they still stand tall, their hands are clasped behind their backs. This posture is slightly more relaxed than the previous rigid one.

Even though they’re neatly lined up, the order is based mostly on seniority.

While they may line up based on skill, experience plays a significant role. Naturally, the younger ones end up at the back. When young ones are at the back, away from the higher-ups, it’s a common scene everywhere for them to whisper amongst themselves.

“Hey, isn’t Lord Morteln the infamous Head Hunting Knight?” -Knight

“Yeah, the famous Phantom, right? I wonder what he’s like.” -Knight

“I bet he has bulging eyes and is skinny. If his face is pale, it would seem fitting.” -Knight

“No way. Didn’t he behead over three hundred in the defense of the royal capital? He might be a tall man, twice the height of an average person.” -Knight

In reality, he has a physique closer to medium build, toned from training, and during the battle defending the capital, he only beheaded five. Furthermore, those were killed during formal duels, and the heads were cut off later by others for proof of his victories.

But rumors tend to get exaggerated. In some circles, he’s rumored to drink fresh blood like a demon. Perhaps this is still a kinder version.

“Hey! What are you guys chattering about?” -Chief Retainer

“”Sorry, sir!””

Youths these days are so undisciplined. When I was young, we had more restraint.

Both platoon leaders thought so, but if there were any senior chief retainers around who knew them in their youth, they would probably laugh.

“Hmm?” -Chief Retainer

Just as everyone’s attention was refocused, one of the soldiers noticed something odd. It was a change that everyone would soon recognize. A slight distortion in the air, like the mirages seen on hot summer days, where the distant scenery seems to warp.

But now, it’s the opposite season, late autumn, so there’s no lingering heat. If so, what is causing this mirage?

Soon after, shadows began to cast over the distortion. The shadow was much larger than a human’s, causing tension among the Count’s army.

The sound of hooves clacking was heard.

Once someone realized it was the sound of horses with horseshoes, they searched for the source. Naturally, or perhaps surprisingly, the sound came from the direction of the distortion. Where the mirage-like phenomenon had disappeared, there was now a knight on horseback.

Everyone present had heard rumors of the “Magic Knight” who could 【Teleport】. Witnessing this magic firsthand was nothing short of astonishing.

Two horses appeared.

One was ridden by a handsome man dressed in impressive military attire. While his height was slightly above average, his physique was well-toned, and his sharp facial features had a certain captivating aura.

Everyone present believed this man must be the famous Lord Morteln.

Because the other horse was ridden by a child. This child, in a different way from the knight, was also eye-catching.

The face resembled that of a young girl. However, his attire was a meticulously tailored men’s formal wear. The bluish outfit was designed to give a three-dimensional feel, contouring the slender frame typical of youth. The meticulous length of the outfit made him look as if he belonged to the upper class.

His beautiful, straight, bluish-silver hair flowed lightly, and the neatly trimmed bangs emphasized his youthful appearance.

With a bright face and an innocent smile, he steered the horse. Anyone would believe that this child is the son of the knight, especially given the strikingly similar features both share when on horseback.

In a different sense than the knight himself, the boy exuded a charm that irresistibly attracted people.

The two eye-catching figures moved in unison.

They dismounted with graceful motions that revealed their training. Once the young boy aligned next to the man, the man began to speak.

“I am Casserole Mille Morteln, the head of the Morteln family. I’ve come to meet Count Brioche Salgrade Mille Retes. I request permission to enter.” -Casserole

With feet together and back straight, he first touched the hilt of his sword and then placed his right hand on his chest.

The gesture, with the palm closed and the thumb lightly touching the left side of the chest, is a salute that a noble knight performs for a superior. It’s a mark of respect, second only to the utmost salute given to a king in the hierarchy of noble etiquettes.

Not returning this salute would be considered impolite.

The man at the forefront of the Retes Count’s army was the chief retainer.

Immediately, he made a similar gesture, touching his chest and then kneeling on one knee. This is a common salute for a non-noble retainer addressing a noble.

“Lord Morteln, we have been expecting you. By the orders of my liege, I will guide you from here.” -Chief Retainer

After delivering his opening remarks, the chief retainer rose to his feet, and as if in perfect synchrony with his every move, the corps split apart, forming two distinct lines.

Their coordination was so impeccable that it felt as though they had rehearsed this moment countless times, an embodiment of seamless precision.

The path ahead was crafted by the soldiers themselves. Following closely behind the man who led the way, Casserole and Pastry marched in a neat procession.

The palpable weight emanating from the silent soldiers on either side would make even the most resolute of men’s legs tremble.

Just as it’s difficult for someone unfamiliar with romance to remain calm when embraced by the opposite sex, only those accustomed to intense battles can walk in front of beasts that, even when chained, could kill with a single bite, without flinching.

The chief retainer noticed.

It was understandable for the knight, Lord Morteln, renowned for his bravery, to remain calm. But his son also appeared just as composed. It was conspicuously unnatural for such a young boy.

With a sense of unease, the chief retainer led the two into the castle.

The soldiers that had been arrayed in a show of intimidation appeared to have little effect, much to the slight disappointment of the chief retainer who had orchestrated it. However, their disappointment remained concealed, a testament to their seasoned experience.

“This way.” -Chief Retainer

The pair were led to a room inside the castle.

After entering the main entrance hall and moving to the right, they reached a large room with a grand door adorned with a bull-shaped decoration. Pastry only realized that this decoration was a door knocker when it was used to knock.

The knock sounded like the call of a bull.

“My Lady, Lord Morteln has arrived.” -Chief Retainer

“Please allow him in immediately.” -Brioche

After the response from inside, the door opened with a slight creak.

As the guests entered, they were greeted with two welcoming faces.

The luxurious sofa they were invited to sit on after a brief bow was incomparably more lavish than any in the Morteln estate. As the father and son, Casserole and Pastry, sat down, they calmly observed the men before them.

Three people were present. One was the man who had guided them, whom they knew to be the chief retainer.

So, one of the remaining two must be the noble with the title of Count.

One was a man who seemed to be in his middle age, exuding an air of competence and possessing a significant presence. His demeanor suggested that he had seen many a battlefield.

The other was a woman who appeared to be in her late twenties or early thirties.

It was clear who the liege was.

“Thank you for coming. It’s an honor to meet the renowned Lord Morteln.” -Brioche

Of course, the woman was the liege.

Pastry wasn’t surprised, having heard about it beforehand, but a female feudal lord is an exceptionally rare occurrence. Nobles often find themselves on the frontlines of combat, wielding swords. For a woman to hold such a position is extremely rare.

Brioche Salgrade Mille Retes was the eldest daughter of the previous Lord Retes. The predecessor and his heir died young in a war, and since the male heir, the grandson of the predecessor, was still an infant, she took on the role of the lord until he came of age.

However, this nephew, the young boy, also died of illness, which brings us to the present situation.

“Thank you for taking the time to meet with us.” -Casserole

“Not at all. Ah, we’ve prepared the finest tea that our house trades in. Please enjoy without hesitation.” -Brioche

“Ah, I’m honored. Yes, it’s delicious. I’ve heard that Retes tea is renowned even in the royal capital. It indeed lives up to its reputation.” -Casserole

“I’m pleased to hear your praise. Knowing that you’d be visiting, I’m glad our preparations have borne fruit.” -Brioche

Retes, the countess, laughed elegantly. Being a high-ranking noble, she was well aware that small gestures in negotiations can lead to significant results. Not only did she avoid showing any vulnerability in her demeanor, but her eyes were also carefully observing the two visitors.

Her well-honed observational skills noticed something peculiar. Despite serving their finest tea, for some reason, the son of Lord Morteln seemed puzzled.

If he didn’t like the tea, he would have grimaced, and if he was tasting it for the first time, he would have looked surprised. His puzzlement itself was puzzling. However, she decided to leave that question for later, as their primary negotiator was the boy’s father, not the boy himself.

“Your territory, Morteln, is renowned for turning barren lands into prosperous ones. I’ve heard that not only are you a skilled warrior but also an adept ruler. If you are knowledgeable about agriculture as well, I would love to learn from you. Hohoho.” -Brioche

“Thank you. However, that praise might be a bit excessive. Any prosperity our territory has seen is all thanks to my son’s abilities. I’m not particularly noteworthy.” -Casserole

“Oh, you’re too modest. Even for someone like me, just maintaining the territory is a handful. Not boasting about such achievements, you must be truly humble. Your son must be proud to have a father like you, right?” -Brioche

Any ordinary person would find it hard to believe that a child not yet ten years old would lead reforms in a territory, and Casserole, the father, couldn’t help but give a wry smile.

He was sure that if he were in their shoes, he would have thought it a jest.

Finally, with the conversation turning towards his son, he tensed up, readying himself for the main event.

“Yes, I am proud of my father. Any growth and prosperity our house has seen is all thanks to him.” -Casserole

“Indeed, it must be.” -Brioche

At the mention of being proud of his father, Casserole’s nose flared slightly.

The countess and her chief retainer noticed this and thought him to be a doting parent.

However, they forgot something crucial.

They were supposed to be negotiating with the son, not the Lord of Morteln, and that their counterparts were also observing them.

“However, recently, some miscreants trespassed into our territory. They were a group of bandits numbering in the hundreds. We managed to drive them away, but I had to take up arms and fight.” -Pastry

“Eh? Ah, y-yes, that’s impressive. For someone of your age to already fulfill a noble’s duty, I’d want our people to learn from you.” -Brioche

Flustered.

In negotiations, one should never be flustered. It’s equivalent to confessing that you’re at a disadvantage. It’s something you should absolutely avoid.

The countess and her close allies, having been caught off guard by the child’s main topic, scrambled to recover.

First and foremost, without even needing to correct the miscount of bandits, they had already accepted the story. It was clear that negotiating on the opponent’s terms without evidence in the negotiation would be disadvantageous.

“We’ve forcefully interrogated some of the captured bandits and… it seems that these bandits were originally from here, in Retesvale.” -Pastry

“Oh, that’s news to me. Is that true?” -Brioche

Still, the Countess of Retes managed to regain her composure in a scant amount of time, probably due to her experience in numerous negotiations. She immediately considered the possibility of a bluff, playing dumb as if it were all news to her.

“If you have doubts, we are prepared to hand over some of the bandits to you. There will also be reports to the royal family, so it will also be investigated by the responsible official.” -Pastry

An unpleasant premonition was sensed by the Countess in the demeanor of Pas, who implicitly spoke as if to say, let’s stop playing dumb.

If one is told that there’s evidence, playing dumb becomes difficult.

“Fine, let’s assume that the story is true and discuss further. Recently, we annihilated the bandits who were rampaging through our territory, but perhaps the survivors might have fled,” -Brioche

“Your Excellency, that is a peculiar story. The bandits say that they moved after repelling a subjugation in the countess’s territory. If your house annihilated the bandits, then who on earth did the bandits fight against?” -Pastry

“Well, I do not know that. In the first place, there is no basis that the bandits we annihilated and the bandits you speak of are the same.” -Brioche

“The head of the bandits was using a sword with the coat of arms of the Countess’s house.” -Casserole

The chief retainer of the count’s retinue clenched his fist, unintentionally exerting force. Although it’s a behavior that should be avoided as it could be disadvantageous against a negotiating partner, it was somewhat inevitable in this situation.

The bandits were using swords engraved with a noble crest. In essence, it signified that they had been stolen during a previous subjugation. If the sword had indeed been seized, there was a high possibility it had belonged to a subordinate who had been killed.

Images of the slain subordinate surfaced in his mind, and unwittingly, his grip tightened.

Sensing this, Casserole gently nodded towards the chief retainer.

“Don’t worry,” it implied. The true meaning of this would be understood later.

“Based on these matters, our house believes that your family’s subjugation was a failure. As a result, our territory was attacked by bandits. That is our position.” -Pastry

“That is… that is preposterous.” -Brioche

Countess Retes gritted her teeth in frustration.

Despite lining up soldiers for intimidation and preparing several cards to take the initiative in the negotiations, the flow had been taken by the opponent without even a chance to use them.

The assessment of the bandits’ subjugation, discussed in confidence, was a mix of thirty percent success and seventy percent failure.

While intending to uphold appearances by emphasizing the thirty percent success, they had been preemptively criticized for the seventy percent failure. Insisting otherwise now would likely sound like nothing more than excuses.

“Of course, we understand your Excellency the Countess’s position. Our house does not intend to blatantly make a fuss about the failure here.” -Pastry

“Oh, that is appreciated.” -Brioche

Surprised by the unexpected words, a mature noblewoman expressed her astonishment genuinely.

She had assumed that they would use their faults as material to make some demands.

In this case, their fault was the failure of the subjugation, tarnishing their reputation. Nobles owned territories and collected taxes precisely because they could fight when necessary. To be useless against even bandits was a shameful display. At worst, even stripping of noble rank was possible.

The sense of crisis was especially strong for the female Countess Retes. After all, a female head of the family could easily be deemed unreliable.

Who had successfully subdued the bandits?

Had the Count’s family defeated them, only for the remnants to flee to another territory? Or had the Count’s family failed, resulting in their subjugation in a different domain? The implications, particularly in terms of saving face, were vastly different.

They would not label it a failure. In other words, they would concede that the Count’s family had achieved the subjugation.

From the standpoint of the Count’s family, this would be the most favorable outcome.

“Our house has been ravaged by the bandits. Even though they were ‘remnants,’ they were quite a formidable opponent.” -Pastry

“I understand. Nevertheless, you protected your territory, fulfilling a noble’s true desire. It’s commendable.” -Brioche

“Thank you. However, even if they are merely remnants, they were originally bandits from this domain. If you could consider that, and grant us your clemency, we, in turn, think there would be no need to aggravate the situation any further.” -Pastry

“Clemency, hm? How about we take the bandits off your hands, for a suitable price?” -Brioche

“They are already criminals, reduced to the status of slaves. Of course, we will hand them over for an appropriate price, and it might be that only our side of the story is conveyed to the royal investigator. We are prepared for that.” -Pastry

Their exchange, though superficially polite, was quite sly.

To summarize bluntly, the Morteln family would seize the substance, while the Retes family would abstain from taking the credit. A proposal of sorts.

The Countess’s failure would be kept a secret from others. In exchange, they would purchase, at a high price, the bandits and goods that were proof of the failed subjugation of the bandits.

“Understood. Our house will take those bandits off your hands for… a price of one hundred Retes gold coins. In return, we will express our regret for the actions of the remnants. How does that sound?” -Brioche

“Your Excellency, I hate to seem reliant on your benevolence, but could you please consider our damages a bit more?” -Pastry

“You do not seem like a child… Very well. How about one hundred and thirty coins?” -Brioche

“I would like to hear a better offer.” -Pastry

“One hundred and fifty.” -Brioche

“That should be fine. Father, are you alright with that?” -Pastry

“Yes, that’s fine.” -Casserole

At this point, the Countess clearly recognized the dissonance within her.

Originally, her negotiating partner should have been the adult, Baron Morteln. However, she realized she had somehow come to see the child as the main negotiator.

The child was no ordinary being.

Countess Retes, while signing two parchment papers inscribed with the contract details, solidified that thought. After both parties confirmed the contents, the chief retainer of the guards left the room to retrieve the money.

“Now, with the contract concluded… Ah, I just realized I have not yet heard the name of your son,” -Brioche

“My apologies for the oversight, Your Excellency. I am the son of Casserole Mille Morteln, and my name is Pastry. I hope to continue to make your acquaintance from here on/” -Pastry

“Of course, I too desire a favorable relationship moving forward. By the way, I noticed you tilted your head while drinking tea earlier. Was there something curious about our house’s tea?” -Brioche

“Not at all. It was a very delicious tea. However, the sweetness of the accompanying pastry seemed slightly excessive. I thought it usual for such baked sweets to be a bit more restrained in sweetness. Ah, but of course, it was still very delicious.” -Pastry

“Oh, it seems your palate is quite refined.” -Brioche

The Morteln territory was a rural, small, and impoverished domain. Even as the heir to such a place, one couldn’t expect a noble child to frequently indulge in sweets. Countess Retes felt she was beginning to grasp the true identity of the boy before her. Or rather, she had come to understand that something was out of the ordinary.

The boy was far too accustomed to the delicate flavors of baked sweets, which was starkly incongruent.

Could it be that the Morteln domain was hiding something? If they were concealing something like a gold mine, the boy’s refined palate could be understood – indulging in luxuries with hidden wealth, perhaps.

In any case, a thorough investigation into the domain of Morteln was necessary. Just having understood this much was worth more than the gold coins she had paid. Countess Retes held such thoughts behind the smile curling at her lips.

After a while, the chief retainer returned, a leather bag in hand, clearly swollen with a substantial amount of money.

“Now, let’s verify,” -Chief Retainer

“Ten, twenty… one hundred fifty, indeed. Then, within ten days, we will deliver the bandits and their belongings here.” -Pastry

“Yes, it was a good deal.” -Brioche

The Countess shook hands with the knight, and subsequently, with the boy.

Who would become the key player in the future? The lord renowned for his bravery and magical prowess, or his intelligent son? In truth, she wanted to maintain a good relationship with both.

Having concluded the handshake, it was a moment when the knight and his son were gradually making their moves to leave the room.

“Oh, come to think of it, I didn’t bring a gift. In gratitude for the delicious tea and sweets, please accept this… 【Transcription】.” -Pastry

He extended what remained of the parchment used during their contract. Upon it, a reflection-like image of Countess Retes was carefully drawn.

The woman experienced an inexplicable astonishment, not knowing how many times she’d been surprised by the boy’s seemingly impromptu actions.