Editor 151

The Idyll of Albion (3)

“To the esteemed Investigative Department of Aser Company”

“My name is Cyrus Merchant, and I have operated the directly managed retail store of Aser Company in the city of Parisa for 15 years.

Parisa is located in the central region of the Pintos Mountains, at a high altitude and in an area with inconvenient transportation. It is the capital of the Kishion estate and is also the site of the Northeastern Defense Army’s camp.

The soil and climate of the estate are barren, and avalanches and landslides, which cannot be prevented by human effort, often occur.

Despite the conscientious rule of Count Kishion, it is not a land of plenty, but for a city with a military camp, the atmosphere is not rough.

Even though it borders Brunnenn, war is a thing of the distant past, and because Count Kishion values discipline, soldiers who abuse the people are unimaginable.

While the northernmost Pintos Mountains form a natural barrier with their rugged terrain, the geography here is relatively gentle.

Nevertheless, this is not a path for heavy loads, so trade and personal exchanges with Brunnenn occur along the Clotho River to the south, where goods can be easily transported, and there are no trading posts here.

In other words, it is an isolated, small town.

Instead, the Absalom Wall runs long from north to south along the ridgeline. On top of the wall, well-managed watchtowers are numbered at regular intervals.

The Kishion manor and the military camp are located on this side of the wall.

The manor was built with magic during the reign of Absalom II, so the foundation is solid and the outer wall is thick enough not to break even if hit by artillery.

However, now, there is no longer a western outer wall in Count Kishion’s fortress.

Yesterday was the first time that there was a need to urgently inform the company’s investigative department from peaceful Parisa.

First, to guarantee the credibility of my testimony, I will add some personal background.

I graduated from a commercial school in the capital, so I am not ignorant of knights. I have also learned about Queen Carmela’s war.

However, the power of the one who destroyed Kishion’s castle at dawn yesterday was enough to be called superhuman.

I usually wake up at dawn to organize the accounts. That’s how I was able to witness the incident in time.

Around 3 a.m., a tremendous shock shook the town.

The attic window rattled so much that at first I mistook it for an earthquake.

At the same time, a brilliant silver bolt of lightning shot up amidst a thunderous roar.

Of course, it was not lightning. What kind of lightning shoots from the ground to the sky?

Unavoidably, I took out a telescope, which was merchandise, and examined the Kishion manor.

What appeared in the lens was a shocking sight.

A man was standing in front of the castle wall.

The color of his armor was dark, so it was hard to make out at first, but as he began to emit sword energy again, a dazzling light burst forth, visible even from that great distance.

It was definitely silver, not gold. He was clearly a sword master.

With a single strike, the knight brought down the outer wall’s tower, and with a second strike, the sturdy castle gate, which had endured for over a hundred years, suddenly turned into countless pebbles. In the blink of an eye!

The knight in dark blue armor standing in front of the wall then split into four figures and leapt over the collapsed outer wall.

Because of the darkness and dust, I could not properly see what happened inside, but within minutes, I could tell that the collapsed supporting wall was pouring into and filling the moat.

It was because of the earth-shaking rumbling.

About thirty knights with golden sword energy followed the oppressive trajectory of silver ether.

If I were someone who believed in outlandish cults, I would have thought apostles of the apocalypse had descended upon the earth.

Naturally, Kishion’s garrison launched a counterattack.

Soon, the gunports opened and cannons were fired. The sound of rapid gunfire tore through the night sky.

Despite the soldiers’ disciplined response and the efforts of Kishion’s knights, the outcome of the battle seemed clear.

It wasn’t long before all gunfire ceased.

Trembling with fear, I dropped the telescope.

Since the intruders’ appearance was unfamiliar, I naturally assumed it was an invasion by Brunnenn. They are the only ones with the power to attack this estate.

I went downstairs to the shop to urgently report the one-sided destruction by these unidentified knights. But when I picked up the receiver, the phone line was already dead.

Sensing this was no ordinary event, I straightened my attire and was about to go out when someone began to bang violently on the iron gate.

Holding my breath and listening, I heard smooth standard Albionese, rarely heard in this region. They kept repeating, ‘This is an investigation by the central government. Open the door.’

Later, I learned that every place with a telephone received a visit from soldiers.

They explained why the phones were down. They said they were investigating the illegal training of private soldiers in the Kishion estate.

I stayed up all night, unable to sleep.

At daybreak, a notice was posted in the square.

It stated that until the inspection by the Northeastern Defense Army was over, all government offices, the post office, and the train station would cease operations, and all residents could only leave their homes until 6 p.m.

At the very bottom was a seal: ‘Sir Armorique.’ It was an unfamiliar name to me, who am not versed in noble lineages.

But the power wielded by that name was not false.

Even though it was bright, not a single train entered the station, and all transport carts were detained at the mountain’s entrance.

The entire city of Parisa was under lockdown.

People did not dare open even their shutters and held their breath at home.

From the city, the castle, located high up, was clearly visible.

How could anyone who witnessed the manor, half in ruins, dare to defy the order on the notice?

The first day of anxiety passed slowly.

Fortunately, from the next day, only carts carrying daily necessities were allowed in and out. Our company, too, was able to unload goods under the watchful eyes of unfamiliar knights and soldiers.

Even before sorting the goods, candles and oil were requisitioned, so I personally delivered them to the castle.

Riding the delivery cart with the company porter, the moment I entered the castle’s driveway, which I had traveled hundreds of times before, I found myself unable to breathe.

Up close, the castle resembled a capital from an old tale—like a city ruined overnight by a curse.

The west side of the castle was collapsed, as if trampled by a giant’s foot.

I did my best not to reveal my inner thoughts as I moved the goods.

The inner courtyard, the lord’s residence, and the warehouse were intact, but even if the buildings were unharmed, not all the people were.

Bullet holes in the walls and dark, dried bloodstains were often visible.

Despite paying close attention, I did not see the lord, any Kishion knights, or even a single familiar soldier.

The castle, devastated and bloodstained, was eerily peaceful.

I struggled to discreetly gather information.

The knights in dark blue armor had set down their helmets and were enjoying a relaxed time. It was as if this was their castle and they were taking a break after routine training.

Beneath their helmets, their faces were simple and honest, and some young knights kindly helped me move the goods.

The knights who joked loudly or shared cigarettes as they waited all spoke with the choppy northern accent.

I could not tell which order of knights they belonged to.

I surmise that Count Kishion had been increasing his forces for years in preparation for provocation from Brunnenn. It seems to have been a personal effort, as no central support was forthcoming.

Perhaps it was merely an administrative oversight, but the knights acted as if they were raiding the headquarters of a rebel faction.

The dawn raid yesterday seemed highly effective. The ever-vigilant Count Kishion was detained without even a proper response.

After all, how could ordinary knights and soldiers of the northeastern camp deal with sword masters of such transcendent power and merciless knights?

On the epaulets of their dark blue armor was a crest (emblem) with a lake, a helmet, and a sword crossing diagonally.

(I could not identify the family due to my limited knowledge. Please have the investigative department look into it.)

After moving all the goods and passing around cigarettes, finding nothing more to glean, I was about to leave when I encountered the knight of silver ether.

He walked out of the inner castle, holding a sword stained with dried blood, and I recognized him at a glance. It was thanks to the silver ether that still lingered, swirling around his body.

His body, hardened and honed like a single sword, was not that of an ordinary person.

As he appeared, all the knights who had been laughing and joking changed their demeanor.

They put out their cigarettes, stopped smiling, and put their helmets back on properly.

It was clear that he was their leader, the knight called Armorique.

The thirty knights stomped in unison as if they were one, raising a cloud of dust and making the earth tremble.

I felt anew that they were a brave and lawless army, thirty knights possessing the martial power to face an entire brigade.

Up close, the knight of silver ether had a surprisingly young face for his skill with the sword, with hair tinged blue in places and a distinctive scar running diagonally across his neck.

I could not observe any more. Though I prided myself on my courage as a merchant, I found myself bowing my head in front of that knight.

The sword master responsible for the estate’s lockdown must be from a very old family.

He had an attitude and bearing rarely seen these days. He was also quite tall. He was the kind of person who made others behave like serfs before the liberation.

When I left the castle, my legs trembled.

Since that day, I have not entered the castle again.

According to released servants, Count Kishion and his heir are still detained in the castle.

I hope this will be useful for your work.”

“1892. 5. 22.

Dispatched by Cyrus Merchant, Aser Store Representative, Parisa City, Kishion Estate.”

Cleio put down the letter she had finished reading.

No matter how provincial the small town was, there was an Aser Company branch there, which is why she learned of the misfortune.

In other words, unless one had such a pipeline, the raid on Kishion estate was so secretive and swift that it would have been impossible to know.

With the fatigue of sleeplessness added to the information in the letter, a heavy throbbing pressed at her temples.

‘So the Tristein Knights’ raid on Kishion estate happened two days ago.’

At the very hour that Tayserton Tristein stormed Kishion Castle, Arthur and his friends were being arrested in Lundain.

‘Now the purpose of the detentions is clear. They wanted to prevent Arthur and the others from interfering with the search of Kishion estate.’

It was a search begun without parliamentary approval. If they delayed, public opinion would sour, and if they failed to secure testimony or evidence, there would be moves to rescue Count Kishion.

‘…And then there’s the variable of Mietz.’

In the letter Mietz sent just a week ago, there was no hint of such an event.

It was clear that the older knights remaining in the Tristein estate did not know the mission of those who had gone to the capital.

‘If he’d known, Mietz would never have stood by. He would have informed Arthur and rushed to Kishion himself to resist, to prevent things from going so badly.’

And Melchior would have expected Mietz to act that way.

‘Did the crown prince even notice this correspondence and deliberately let our side receive only insufficient information?’

It was entirely possible.

If, at that time, Melchior had gauged Mietz’s level with the structure of insight, then it was reasonable to keep him away from Kishion estate when making such a move.

Even Tayserton Tristein would not have seized Kishion estate so easily if a sword master had stood in the way.

‘Above all, sending Trude on leave was decisive.’

The knights who had shared special bonds with the children would not have defied the duke’s orders, but even the slightest chance of hesitation had been eliminated.

The knights described in Cyrus’s letter were not the honest and simple people Cleio had shared meals with.

They were still cheerful and entertaining, but at the same time, they were cruel and hardline. They were sharp blades that only Melchior Liognan was permitted to wield.

Gideon, who had waited for Cleio to fully absorb the letter’s contents, spoke in a cold tone.

“That letter was attached under an empty box from the transport cart carrying daily necessities. It’s an emergency contact method. Even the transport carts are now stopped, and Kishion estate is completely sealed off.”