Chapter 508: Swords drawn in the name of holiness, but reconciled due to the Demon King's "conspiracy".

Poor Gerald had no idea that this wasn't the first time the Campbell family had been saved by a demon.

Compared to that, his life really isn't that important.

For the unfathomable Demon King, stabilizing the pieces on the chessboard was merely a matter of lifting a finger.

Those whom the Demon King forbids to be killed cannot be killed even if a Demon God comes.

Two days after that battle, Thanos returned to the Great Tomb, reported to the Demon King in the audience hall who already knew the outcome, and returned the spear that the Demon King had given him.

Meanwhile, a warship flying the flag of the Principality of Campbell set sail from the port of Thunder City, heading like an arrow toward the isolated island of Cranto!

Upon hearing of the incident at the castle on Cranto Island, Edward was extremely anxious. He had just bid farewell to Baron Eralic and immediately turned around and stepped onto the deck of the warship with his personal guards.

Looking at the port that was faintly visible in the distance, he gave a stern order to the captain beside him.

"Move forward! Tell the soldiers and sailors to prepare for battle!"

A troubled look appeared on the captain's face as he nervously reported to the Grand Duke.

“Your Majesty, Cranto Island is surrounded by reefs, and the port is not designed for warships. Rushing in risks running aground! My suggestion is to moor the warships not far from the shore to prepare for support, and then launch the sampans... I am willing to lead the vanguard and be the first to land on the island!”

Edward took a deep breath, trying to suppress his anger and prevent his personal feelings from clouding his judgment.

"...You stay on the ship and get as close as you can. All cannons are ready to be loaded and await my orders."

The captain breathed a sigh of relief and respectfully accepted the order.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

However, before the captain could finish catching his breath, Edward looked at Bertrand, the personal guard who was with him.

He was Theresa's father, who made outstanding contributions in the "Winter Rebellion" and was promoted to Platinum-level transcendent.

"Bertrand, come with me to the island."

Bertrand looked at the Grand Duke gripping his sword tightly, a look of surprise on his face, before bowing and accepting the order.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

He did not try to dissuade His Majesty, for Gerok was, after all, His Majesty's brother, even though they had once fought each other.

The priests often said that their archduke had abandoned human emotions, and that the silver hair was Saint Sith's punishment for him selling his soul to the devil and turning his sword against his brothers.

Now it seems the rumors were not true, and a faint sense of comfort arose in his heart.

Unlike the king of the Kingdom of Ryan, the duke he served, though ambitious, was not a complete political animal and still retained a trace of human warmth...

The warship lowered its sampans, and the duchy's guards, carrying rifles, rowed vigorously, quickly landing at the small harbor buried among the reefs.

Edward felt his heart clench as his boots stepped onto the rotten wooden planks.

The dilapidated castle was like a tomb, and even the lighthouse could not illuminate all the darkness on the island.

He had only seen this island on a map; he never imagined it would be such a place…

"Form ranks!" Bertrand shouted to his guards, ordering the soldiers to assemble into a square formation to fight against the superhumans.

The Roxay rifle can unleash a dense barrage of fire, but defeating a superhuman who moves like the wind still requires some courage and tactics.

If the assassin were still here, he would know very well that the outcome would likely depend on the sword in his hand.

Without lingering long outside the castle, Edward gripped his sword tightly and led his guards toward the castle.

The sea breeze whistling beneath the castle remained biting, carrying a salty, damp smell, but it couldn't dispel the nauseating stench of blood within the castle.

The moment Edward stepped through the city gates, his heart sank. He saw that the solemn and majestic monastery in the distance had been transformed into a living hell, with only jagged glass remaining on the windowsills, and a gruesome bloodshed permeating the broken bricks and tiles.

“…By Saint Sith above.” Bertrand couldn’t help but swallow hard, silently praying in his heart.

No extraordinary person with even a shred of piety and reverence for the Holy Light could possibly have engaged in such a violent fight in a monastery and destroyed the sacred prayer hall in this way.

Edward didn't linger, nor did he have time to concern himself with such trivial matters. He hurried across the broken paving stones and rushed into the dilapidated monastery.

The guards who followed closely behind were all seeing the Grand Duke in this state for the first time.

The silver-haired duke, who was known for his composure, now had disheveled hair, and a hint of panic could be seen on his dignified face.

"Jerok!"

Facing the empty monastery, he shouted, his eyes searching the hall.

Finally, beside a broken section of the statue of Saint Sis, he found that familiar figure.

Jerok was sitting against the wall, having changed into a clean, coarse monk's robe, and his wounds had been simply bandaged.

He seemed to be badly injured, but not as critically ill as Edward had imagined.

Instead, he appeared unusually calm, his eyes closed, praying to the statue as usual.

Hearing his brother's call, Gerald, who was immersed in prayer, slowly raised his head and opened his eyes.

A hint of surprise appeared in his eyes, as if he hadn't expected his brother to come here in person.

"……His Majesty?"

Edward rushed to his brother's side, ignoring the dust on the ground, and knelt down on one knee, his hands trembling as he reached out to check his brother's injuries.

Only after confirming that the wounds, though gruesome, had healed did his tense shoulders relax.

Immediately afterwards, the relief of seeing her loved ones survive the ordeal turned into overwhelming rage.

His eyes burned with murderous intent, and his teeth were clenched tightly.

"Who did it?"

Jerok fell silent.

The image of the ghostly figure that appeared on the dome flashed involuntarily through his mind, along with the pitying whisper left behind by the devil in the tuxedo before he left.

You don't need to know.

Without a doubt, they were the Demon King's retinue, and the darkness that the Campbell family had been enemies for generations.

For the sake of his brother and for the sake of the family's last shred of dignity, he decided to preserve part of the truth.

“He’s the king’s assassin,” he said calmly. “His name is Haro, and he calls himself the Burialer and Gravedigger. He exudes an aura of chaos and is ruthless in his actions; I suspect he’s a remnant of the Green Forest Army…”

Edward's pupils contracted sharply.

He had already guessed who was behind this on his way here, but hearing it from his closest relatives was still a different story.

“I’m sorry… This was my oversight. I should have expected Theodore to make a move against you.”

He had initially thought that Jerok wasn't his weakness, but it was clear that wasn't the case.

Theodore knew himself better than he knew himself, and when he heard the news of the incident at Crantoburg, he felt his heart stop.

Jerok shook his head gently, a forgiving smile appearing on his pale face, gaunt from blood loss.

“No, Your Majesty, my brother… I don’t believe this was your oversight. No mortal can foresee everything, can he?”

Before Edward could speak, he turned his gaze to the destroyed statue.

“Especially when we are still devout, while our opponents have abandoned all principles. Didn’t I never expect that Earl Derek, who was so loyal to our father, would actually take my sword and point it at your chest?”

This was the lesson he learned from that mistake after a long period of seclusion and reflection in the monastery.

A noble knight should be devout, but should not hesitate to consider the devil's capacity with the worst possible malice.

Edward stared blankly at Jerok, as if he were seeing his younger brother all over again, speechless for a moment.

Jerok raised his right hand, which was tightly gripping a broken piece of stone arm, and his tone was filled with piety.

"Fortunately, Saint Sith was watching me. Haro's cross destroyed the idol, and this severed arm granted me divine power, allowing me to repel the evil that had angered the gods... It's just a pity that the others in the castle did not survive. Before they could come to me, the apostles of chaos had already killed them."

These words sound somewhat absurd, not like the complete truth, but more like embellished verses from a bard.

However, seeing the wrecked corpses scattered all over the ground and Jerok's devout and faithful face, Edward ultimately chose to remain silent.

With his experience, he could certainly hear the hidden meaning in this monologue.

However, he was willing to believe that his brother had not intentionally kept it from him, but had decided to keep the truth to himself after careful consideration.

Whatever the truth may be, as long as Gerald is alive, that's enough for him.

Saint Sis, let it be a miracle bestowed by you...

Edward didn't ask for any more details, but simply sat down with a sense of relief on the pile of rubble next to Jerok.

The long journey had left him exhausted, and now the tension that had been building in his heart could finally be released.

“Your Majesty…” Bertrand found an opportunity to step forward and took out a magic potion to replenish his energy and handed it to him.

Edward reached out and took it, nodding to him, signaling him to take his personal guards and take over the castle's defenses, searching for any threats that might be lurking in the shadows.

Then you have to tell the captain, who's on high alert on deck, that the firing packs and shells stuffed in the gun barrels can be removed.

The guards left the ruins, leaving only two to stand guard at the monastery entrance and close the dilapidated wooden door.

Only the two of them remained in the empty hall.

Jerok grinned, took the potion Edward offered, and drank it down without hesitation.

A warm current spread through his chest, and he felt his body recover somewhat.

While holy light can heal wounds, it is more of a pre-emptive use of life's potential and cannot completely replace the healing power of potions.

Seeing that Jerok's face was gradually regaining its color, Edward's expression softened considerably, no longer as tense as before.

The sea breeze blew in through the broken window, seemingly dispersing some of the stench of blood, or perhaps it was just that the two of them had become accustomed to it.

The two brothers sat side by side on the ruins, making it impossible to tell that they had been at each other's throats just a few months earlier.

Jerok turned his head to look at his brother's white hair, his Adam's apple bobbed, and he took the initiative to speak, breaking the silence.

"Are the children... alright?"

Edward paused for a moment, then realized what was happening.

You mean Richard and the others?

"Otherwise what?" Jerok grinned, cracking a joke to ease the tension. "You have an illegitimate child?"

“This joke isn’t funny,” Edward said with a straight face.

"Haha..." Jerok scratched the back of his head awkwardly, just like when he messed things up as a child. "Sorry."

Edward's expression suddenly relaxed, but his dignified face still held a smile.

"I was just kidding."

Jerok: "..."

It seems that he's not the only one who's remained the same; his brother is the same as before.

One of them can't quite grasp the appropriate level of humor, while the other makes it impossible to guess whether or not to laugh—it's quite awkward.

Just as Gerald was pondering how to start a conversation again, Edward thought for a moment and suddenly spoke up.

“Richard is becoming more and more like you,” Edward said with a fatherly kindness in his voice. “That boy is serious about studying knightly honor all day long, as stubborn as a mule.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Jerok said with a smile, momentarily forgetting the honorific, “though I think Alfred is more like me when I was a kid.”

“That was before,” Edward shook his head, his tone tinged with helplessness and a touch of amusement. “In the past year, their personalities have changed quite a bit, especially recently. The two little guys have found themselves an opponent they can’t beat, and they always end up being thoroughly defeated.”

"Oh?" Jerok's eyes showed obvious surprise. "That's terrible! What kind of child would dare to mess with the future Grand Duke?"

Thinking of that fierce-looking girl, Edward's smile became somewhat subtle.

"She's a Colin family child, or more accurately, Colin's sister... Although she's an illegitimate child, her demeanor isn't quite like his. In short, she's a good person."

Most illegitimate children are either timid or extremely cunning, and rarely develop into well-rounded individuals.

As for Miss Vivian, although her personality is a bit eccentric, she can kick a child with all her might, and the look in her eyes when she looks at the rightful heir is "chilling"... but her sunny and cheerful personality, as well as her confidence and generosity, are normal.

Jerok smiled.

"Speaking of which, what about Lino?"

“Lino hasn’t changed much in the last two years. She’s still as mischievous as ever, and she’s becoming more and more like Eileen.” Edward’s eyes softened, and it was clear that he doted on his daughter, even more than he doted on his heir. “Sigh, I actually wish she could be a little more docile. Courage and kindness are certainly admirable qualities, but she has just too much energy.”

“That’s good too,” Jerok said softly, his gaze drifting toward the entrance of the monastery. “It’s good that Irene is like this… If she didn’t have to bear the burden of the Praise of the Light, she would probably have lived a happy life.”

Edward shrugged slightly.

"Perhaps."

The biggest lesson he learned from his parents was never to trust a sudden flash of inspiration and ruin a meticulously planned scheme.

Sometimes, taking unconventional measures may seem to solve the immediate problem, but in fact, it sows the seeds of greater disaster for future generations.

Interestingly enough, Edward felt that the gods were still looking out for the Campbell family.

Although none of his three children resembled their father, each of them, in some wonderful way, made up for many of his regrets regarding family relationships.

Perhaps this was Saint Sith's reward to him.

In one respect, he shares a similarity with Jerok: although he acts decisively, he also believes in karma.

"Speaking of which, you've changed quite a bit."

Seeing Edward suddenly speak, Gerald pointed to himself and said in surprise.

"Me?"

Is anyone else here?

Edward smiled and patted Gerald's uninjured shoulder as he stood up from the ruins.

Looking at his brother's back, Jerok was surprised to find that his broad back seemed to have lost much of its weathered appearance.

His Adam's apple bobbed, and he began to speak.

"...You've changed quite a bit too."

Edward exclaimed in surprise.

"Is there?"

Jerok nodded seriously.

"I feel...you've become younger."

Although it might all be just his imagination, he felt that his brother was much more relaxed after the two of them finished talking.

This also somewhat alleviated Jelock's sense of guilt.

His arrogance had caused his brother a lot of trouble in the past, but this time, he might actually be helping his brother in some ways...

Edward paused for a moment, then, seeing Jerok staring at his white hair, suddenly realized he hadn't said anything to him, and burst out laughing.

Jerok looked at his brother with a puzzled expression.

After laughing enough, Edward raised his hand and rubbed his silver-white bangs hanging on his forehead with his raised index finger.

"I forgot to tell you last time that I actually dyed this hair."

This matter became the talk of the town in Thunder City.

All the citizens knew that he had dyed his hair white so that he could share joys and sorrows with Eileen.

However, Gerald was in the dungeon at the time, and it's unlikely that the Thunder City Daily would be delivered from either the dungeon or Cranto Island.

To my shame, he said he wanted his younger brother to see Thunder City prosper, but he never sent a single newspaper here.

He will increase security on Cranto Island and include newspapers in the supplies sent there.

"So...it wasn't because I made him angry?" Jerok said softly.

Edward's lips curled into a smile.

"Don't underestimate your older brother. Your little troubles aren't enough to break me."

That's not entirely true. Last winter, he turned several strands of hair very white, otherwise he wouldn't have simply dyed his hair silver.

"Don't worry about me, take care of yourself, just for our mother's sake."

Leaving Jerok speechless, he tossed out a final farewell and walked out of the monastery.

When the sunlight pierced through the dark clouds and shone on his forehead, his smile, as gentle as Prince Colin's, transformed once again into a fierce and ruthless one, like an eagle's claw.

He will naturally be soft-hearted towards his closest relatives.

As for the enemy...

Don't expect to see even a trace of kindness on his face.

...

Just days after Edward returned to Thunder City, Baron Ealric, who had traveled upstream along the River Run, also quietly returned to his Twilight City, carrying with him a secret agreement with the Duke.

At this moment, the court was still struggling with the unseen ghost, and the Lionheart Knights were mainly wary of Eileen and her Northern Rescue Army.

No one noticed that the governor had left his residence and disappeared right under everyone's noses for a full week.

After all, he was so insignificant that even the king himself thought the little baron was not worth mentioning.

Baron Ellarrick lay low for a few days, handling official business as usual in a lukewarm manner, but in reality, he focused his energy on preparations for forming a parliament.

On one hand, he sent servants to the countryside to cultivate relationships with powerful local gentry, and on the other hand, he sent out invitations under the guise of his youngest son's birthday, inviting powerful nobles from the Twilight Province to his mansion for a private dinner.

Amidst the clinking of glasses, all the guests enjoyed themselves immensely.

At the long table beside the ball pit, many drunk nobles were throwing tantrums, venting their dissatisfaction with the king or the church.

Ellarick took in their reactions and silently memorized them.

They are the backbone of the future Holy Light Council, or at least the first group of people who can be won over.

The banquet finally came to an end, and the guests, having eaten and drunk their fill, left with lingering feelings of satisfaction. However, not everyone left the governor's residence.

For example, the three remaining powerful earls of the Twilight Province were secretly persuaded by Baron Ellaric to stay and move to a small hut next to the banquet hall.

With the heavy oak doors shutting out the guests' noise, the count, sitting at the round table, finally relaxed his tense brow and truly unwinded.

They were familiar with Ellaric and knew that although the baron was the king's man, he wasn't truly on the same side as the king.

It's not difficult to tell the difference.

After all, as long as a "baron" sits in the governorship of the Twilight Province, he will inevitably be closer to the neighboring Duke Campbell, rather than relying on the king who is far away.

That's not even determined by interests, but by the position determined by the ecological niche.

Just as a baron, by his own strength, could never secure the position of governor, much less usurp the title of Twilight Province from the king.

"...By Saint Sith, when will those damned priests get out of my territory! My granaries are teeming with rats! If they keep causing trouble, not only will my serfs be forced to eat tree bark, but I will be left to gnaw on tree bark!"

The one shouting loudly is Earl Cormac Cain of Stillwater Beach.

His family had the closest cooperation with the merchants of the Duchy of Campbell, and the entire earldom's economy depended on the caravans traveling on that river.

Now, all caravans are consciously avoiding this troublesome place. Even if they have to pass through his territory, they will never linger, for fear of incurring the wrath of the court.

Not only were they closely connected economically, but the Lanes and Campbells of Stillwater Beach also had very close cultural exchanges.

More than a thousand years ago, the Campbells boarded boats on the banks of the Stillwaters and sailed downstream on rafts to establish human settlements on the land beyond the Turbulent Pass.

That place was once the territory of the orcs and was once occupied by the dragon gods' people who came from overseas. It was not until the Isaac dynasty that the "Count of Campbell" was born. The "Duke of Campbell" and the later prosperous duchy came later.

If the king continues to act so recklessly, the people of Stillwater Beach could become Campbells too, since they've all been moving their homes down the Runaway River!

In the spring of 1054 AD, the concept of a "nation" was a rare and advanced thing, even in the rapidly changing city of Thunder.

It may have originated in the mind of Sir Wesley, or it may have originated in the mind of the cunning Foreman Horace, but it has nothing to do with the nobles and serfs of the Kingdom of Lane.

The cowardly Edd Tully sighed, his Ashmarflands being the first earldom to be overrun by starving peasants, and his father the first unfortunate soul to die by the Greenwood's sword.

“What is His Majesty thinking?” He shrank his neck, his voice trembling. “He sent the Lionheart Knights here, but he didn’t give them any money or supplies. He just watched us get ripped off by those charlatans, and we still have to raise money to supply the Knights. Isn’t Twilight Province his territory? Governor… write another letter to the King.”

He was not prepared to inherit the earldom at all, and suddenly the fate of more than a dozen families and thousands of servants was on his shoulders.

Theron Gadge, sitting at one corner of the round table, stared down at his wine glass, trying to make his bulky shoulders appear smaller, so they wouldn't bear a weight that wasn't his.

He was the most count-like count here, yet also the most powerless.

Mr. Ed had at least a thousand loyal servants who shared his joys and sorrows, but he had no one by his side. Those good people were either ravaged by the Green Forest Army or kidnapped by the Salvation Army.

Sparrowwood Territory has no lord.

Only believers who have received the grace of Saint Karen, and the saint who is omnipresent yet impossible to grasp.

He himself was nothing more than a puppet of the Holy Maiden.

"Write a letter to the King?" Cormac scoffed, glancing sideways at the Earl of Grayswamp sitting beside him. "I think you should give up on that idea. He'd be happy if there wasn't a single earl in Dusk Province, so he could take back the power we hold from his court."

Seeing that the timid Earl Ed had shut his mouth, he turned his gaze to the silent Theron and urged, "Earl of Sparrowwood Territory, why don't you say something? You're probably the richest person here, and your loss is the greatest!"

He heard that the entire Twilight Province's food supplies came from Sparrowwood Territory, which clearly showed that this guy was a shrewd individual.

After all, with the Chaos Apostles running rampant everywhere, only Sparrowwood Territory could reap the benefits, which is why the Inquisition regarded his family as a model of piety!

Cormac wasn't mocking Theron at all. Being called a "model of piety" might be a heavy honor for commoners, but it wasn't too bad for nobles. After all, unsold grain would just rot in the warehouse anyway, so exchanging it for honor wasn't a loss.

Looking at Cormac's burning gaze, Theron gave a wry smile, guessing that the guy thought he was from the Principality of Campbell.

But that's not actually the case at all.

The army of the Duchy of Campbell never passed through his territory, and Eileen never even glanced at this coward.

He is sitting here entirely at the behest of the Holy Maiden.

She hoped he would listen to the governor, who had also received a divine message.

Saint Sith above, how come everyone else heard your divine pronouncement but I was the only one who was left out?

"I... think you're all right."

Theron put down his glass, cleared his throat, and turned his gaze to Baron Eralic, who was also silent. "Let's have our Governor say a few words."

Cormac glanced at him in surprise, then turned his gaze to Baron Ellarick, only to suddenly realize that the baron seemed different from usual.

At this time of day, Governor Ellarrick would usually put on a smiling face, agree with their complaints, and then appease them with some correct but useless nonsense... but today he was unusually not like that.

Those eyes gleamed with a light that Count Cormac had never seen before.

He seems like a completely different person!

"Have you complained enough, gentlemen?"

Ellarik's voice wasn't loud, but it carried enough weight to silence the noisy council chamber in an instant.

He leaned forward, his gaze sharp as a hawk's, and looked at the three silent counts, speaking with a resounding voice.

"The court will leave sooner or later; they do not belong to Twilight City. But the king belongs here, and his reckoning will come either this autumn or next autumn."

"For the future of the people living on this land, and for the sake of your shaky heads, we must make a choice."

Seeing the pairs of eyes gradually turn to terror, he finished speaking slowly and deliberately.

"Either unite and fight."

"Either perish silently!"

"Clang—"

Theron's wine glass fell to the ground, spilling red wine onto the carpet, the bright red liquid flowing everywhere like blood.

He stared dumbfounded at Baron Eralic, who made no attempt to conceal his wolfish ambitions, almost unable to believe his ears—

What kind of divine decree is this?!

This is clearly a rebellion!

Even before him, Edd Tully, the Earl of Ashmarflands, jumped up like a lizard whose tail had been stepped on.

"Are you insane?! What are you trying to fight? The Lionheart Knights or Lord Hagmer the Radiant Knight?"

“A demigod is powerful, but not invincible. If even the descendants of the Tully family think he is invincible, then we are truly doomed.”

Ignoring Ed's shouting, Ellaric stood up and placed his hands on the round table.

“We will establish the ‘Holy Light Council’.”

“Led by the Earl, the Baron, and the Baron, the Knight… We will unite all the influential figures in the Twilight Province to form a power core that belongs only to us.”

"In the public eye, we will resolve the corruption of the Salvation Army within us and reclaim the people of Twilight Province from the witches!"

Theron held his breath.

He found the world utterly absurd.

The saint said the governor had heard a divine oracle, while the governor said the saint was a witch, and then they were to take up the Papacy's sword and point it at the king behind them.

“Wait!” Count Cormac frowned. “What does this have to do with the Salvation Army? Isn’t that trouble for the Vatican?”

He didn't think much of the "Holy Light Council," nor did he believe that these few remnants could contend with the entire Kingdom of Ryan, even though the baron seemed to have the shadow of the Duchy of Campbell behind him.

"Because we cannot openly oppose the king."

Ella looked at him and calmly presented the strategy that Archduke Edward had devised for him.

“However, we can use the pretext of ‘fighting the Salvation Army’ to force the Inquisition to side with us. Chief Justice Jiménez is unhappy that the King’s leniency has bogged down the Inquisition, and we can offer them a respectable compromise, allowing them to return to the Holy City in glory!”

“But…” Ed Tully hesitated, wiping the sweat from his brow, his voice trembling as he said, “This is too risky. What if the king is furious…”

"adventure?"

Ellarik sneered, interrupting the cowardly statement.

"Don't think I'm joking, gentlemen. Think of Earl Solder Weavert who died at Griffin Cliff, who shed his last drop of blood for Theodore, and what was his end? A statue? A medal? What else?"

Mentioning that name caused the three counts present to turn slightly pale.

Although the death of Earl Weaver cannot be attributed to the king, any person of sound mind knows that if the Knights of Lionheart had arrived a few months earlier, not so many people would have died on that land.

The king never ate people.

Simply because they didn't have to eat people themselves.

Ellaric's gaze swept over everyone, lingering on each face, his voice as cold as a knife.

"Gentlemen, today it is Earl Weaver who has been wiped out, and tomorrow it will be your children. You may shrink back and bury your heads like the cattle and sheep in the fields, but I will go to hell first and wait for you. Then I will laugh at you."

"Only by keeping the royal power out of the castle, just like the Duchy of Campbell, can we truly take control of our own destiny!"

"For the sake of our destiny, it's time to make a choice!"

(End of this chapter)