The rain stopped in Spiramentaon.

“Have you heard? Governor Gracus is dead!”

“What?”

“Kyrie of Astrion Astreos—our Lightning Blade—cut that greedy governor from crown to crotch!”

“Is that true!”

“Long live Lord Kyrie! Long live!”

“Then that damned requisitioning will be over, right?”

In a sky clear of clouds, only scraps of cloud drifted.

“Any word on when the men dragged off as soldiers and porters are coming back? Please, tell me.”

“We can launch the ships and start trading again. What are you doing—call everyone. We need to move even a day sooner.”

“We almost tore up the house’s foundation. Two more months of this and we wouldn’t have covered our notes.”

“Get wagons and packhorses at once. Refurbish the sails and gather crews. Let’s put the ships out again!”

People who had been holed up at home, in shops, on ships began to come out into the streets one by one.

“……”

Joi, in civilian clothes, walked the streets and took the cheers with her whole body.

Bundled up in a way ill-suited to this hot city, she drew curious looks.

“You there.”

But anyone who saw Joi’s striking, feral face and the calm-but-dangerous gait of someone used to violence chose not to pick a fight.

“Why?”

With a sword etched in Engravings hanging at a face like that, she had to be a fairly known mercenary.

“N-no.”

“Go safe.”

A Retainer—no, even a mere elite—could toy with six or seven ordinary soldiers.

Picking a fight with weapons honed past human limits was not the Spiramentaon way.

“You’re back?”

“Yes, yes, I’m back, sir.”

After one circuit of the streets, Joi returned to the camp near the West Gate.

The sentry outside the camp snapped a crisp salute to the yellow-eyed adjutant.

“Please inform Her Excellency Princess Erica that Adjutant Jo seeks an audience.”

“Thank you!”

Joi briefly stopped a girl runner and sent a message with a copper coin.

If it were the warlord himself, Kyrie, that was one thing; for his adjutant “Jo” to meet alone with an unmarried lady, Princess Erica, this much protocol had to be observed.

It’s laughable, sir.

Especially for a “man” like “Jo” who looked the type to make more than a few women cry.

“She says come at once.”

The runner came back with the reply.

Joi headed for Erica’s pavilion.

“I think we should normalize the city as soon as possible. May I ask for Your Excellency’s thoughts?”

“By ‘normalize’ you mean halting requisitions and rations, easing inspections, and granting trade permits, yes?”

It was a place whose opulence daunted her no matter when she came.

“Yes. That’s right, sir.”

Which only soured her mood further.

“If there’s anything you’re concerned about, I’d like to ask your counsel, sir.”

But Erica was the only one in this whole warlord camp who had received a proper education in governance.

Our lords fight well, but know nothing of administration. Lord Kyrie might be different—but he said he’ll be going up to the capital soon.

From Joi’s own look at the streets, Spiramentaon’s citizens seemed to expect the postwar restart of trade more than Gracus’s death itself.

If they failed to answer with sound policy, people might say they were the same as he was.

“If I speak, will you actually listen?”

Erica tilted a cup with graceful ease and asked.

The guileless voice and ungentle smile speared Joi to the core.

“What an alarming thing to say. I wouldn’t know where to put myself, sir.”

Joi feigned exaggerated surprise and hid her sincerity.

No matter how short we are on experts, this isn’t it, sir.

It was absurd—to take rule-counsel from a princess of a hostile House.

That the man to receive and execute that counsel was Kyrie was more absurd still.

She was at the point of boiling over.

In the end, I have to learn more, sir.

Of course, Joi was the sort to read it as her own lack.

Amber eyes and jade eyes met for a beat.

One could not sense mana; the other did not use it; but both thought sparks leapt in the air.

“Stop the requisitions. Return everything and everyone Gracus took. Reopen trade.”

“Yes.”

“But with so many weapons on the street, be mindful of public order. Thugs may rise in the confusion. You should tighten inspections and patrols—especially around the slums and red-light district. Also watch for human trafficking.”

“I hadn’t thought that far, sir.”

“And keep rations for a time. At least for bread and salt, keep rationing. In chaos, those with money and power will hoard and gouge.”

Only then.

“Thank you for your counsel, sir.”

Joi bowed her head.

Everything Erica said was sound.

At this rate it really will look like I dislike Erica for some other reason, won’t it?

It made her steam all the more that she couldn’t even hate her.

“Hmmm.”

Erica watched Joi’s back as she left the pavilion.

Her earlobes were red to the tips.

This was a place where rage alone rarely changed anything.

Governor Gracus had fallen.

He had presided over Spiramentaon’s military, judiciary, and administration—and those who toppled him had to replace him.

While Joi, as Kyrie’s adjutant, handled parts of administration and justice, the Blue Knights took the army.

“First we take care of our own.”

Nereus gathered up the victorious.

The garrison by the West Gate began to shift down beneath the Governor’s Citadel.

“Send the wounded to the cathedral. No—tell the priests to come here.”

Blue Knights and Knights, friend and foe alike, were sent to priests at once.

They were too valuable a human resource to lose.

“Empty the wine cellars.”

“Go to the grocers. Tell them we’ll buy every unspoiled cut of meat, vegetables, and bread. If they won’t sell, hit them and ask again.”

“Split into four groups—one patrols, one guards, two rest.”

He laid on the soldiers more than enough wine, food, and rest.

This was a civil war. Even in victory, they couldn’t loot the enemy.

To keep them from thinking they’d worked themselves half to death for no reward, he had to make their bodies comfortable at least.

Nereus was more innately rough and generous than Kyrie.

When Kyrie wakes up, I should suggest we shake down the clergy together. We took a hundred thousand gold from Erica—won’t be hard to look after the men.

He even had thoughts that would have made Kyrie leap up in outrage.

“Right, right! Step up here, anyone ready to change sides!”

If Nereus tended the allies, Frey managed the enemy.

Despite her usual immature speech and antics, Frey had a praetorian’s higher education.

“Three turncoats today—first come, first served! Only the first Knights who switch get to go home to their own mansions, wash in hot water, and sleep in comfort! The rest of you can sleep under straw here or don’t—your choice!”

The army Gracus had conscripted ran into the tens of thousands.

Troops from Spiramentaon; troops scraped from nearby towns and villages; mercenaries; city guard and constabulary—standing forces all jumbled together.

“No! You idiots! You’re Knights of Spiramentaon, not Knights of Gracus! Why die with him?”

Frey contacted the regulars first—the Blue Knights and Knights.

She returned to them their original city-guard and constabulary detachments and put them back on public order.

Of course, anything proper for fighting Blue Knights—cannons, nets for Blue Knights—was stripped and not returned.

“Disband! Disband! Go home, stretch your legs, sleep! Back to your mothers, fathers, little sisters, brothers, sweethearts, friends!”

The troops called up from within the city were disbanded on the spot.

They’d been dragged here.

Untrained crowds weren’t Knights; a Navigator or two could sort them out.

“Transfer out! Transfer out!”

Troops and mercenary bands from neighboring cities were sent to Izmael.

They had some discipline and skill—too good to kill, but if released, likely to flip to banditry.

In the worst case, they might even ride to avenge Gracus.

After a spell fighting Mutated Beasts and the remnants of Rykenta in that jungle, they’ll get their heads straight.

All told, about a week passed.

“I thought I was really going to die.”

Kyrie woke.

A room with a view in the Governor’s Citadel.

“…So I slept for a week.”

I listened as Nereus, Joi, and Frey told me what had happened.

“Our wounded had ample rest and treatment, and they’re ready to fight again. Uncle Necron is almost fully recovered.”

“The merchants have started trading again, sir. Customs are being collected; the city treasury is filling again, sir.”

“Most of the Blue Knights and Knights switched sides! The ones who didn’t, and the mercs—we sent them all into the jungle. I did good, right?”

“You did. You did—but did anyone report to the main House?”

I asked, just in case.

“Main House?”

“Report?”

“What’s that?”

“…!?”

I almost fainted on the spot.

You lunatics!

To be honest, I hadn’t even meant to kill Gracus.

I’d intended to surround and pressure him into surrender, then get just enough testimony—he tried to have Kyrie killed at Traysan’s demand; he knew the links between Traysan and the Royal Stellite Line, and so on.

The battlefield never goes to plan; in the end we killed him—fine.

But cleaning things up this thoroughly was awkward.

It looked a little too much like we’d planned from the start to seize the governorship.

One wrong move and I really might be saddled with treason.

“Bring letter and courier dragon!”

I hurriedly drafted a report to Andromeda.

Please, let her not be cornered yet, politically.

The young lord Andromeda backed, Blue Knight Kyrie, seized Spiramentaon…

Governor Gracus’s report that Kyrie colluded with Princess Erica of Rykenta…

In effect the young lord Andromeda sold Spiramentaon to Rykenta…

A vision of court council rose in my head.

Pro-Traysan attendees raising their voices; Andromeda pale and speechless.

I quickly wrote a precise report and sent it to the capital.

Namely: Gracus went mad—he obstructed our Mutated Beast purge and fight with Rykenta; he mobilized the Royal Stellite Line and the Musketeer School to assassinate us upon our Triumph; when that failed he raised his army and attacked.

We, united in loyal purpose, defeated Governor Gracus and stabilized the city; soon we will go up to the capital with Erica—this, too, I made sure to include.

Of course, it wasn’t enough.

“Jo. You said Gaveng has the city ledgers?”

“Yes, sir. That’s right, sir.”

“Tell him to bring them and follow.”

The neutral elders would need a bribe worth rethinking for.

I sprang up and headed for the vault in the Citadel’s inner court.

Joi and Gaveng hurried after me.

“Gracus will have burned through almost all of it hiring mercenaries. On the books the balance is near bankruptcy…”

I ignored Gaveng’s prattle and opened the vault.

“…That’s how it was written.”

It was crammed with glittering gold coins.

“As expected.”

Mercenaries take a small advance and collect most of their pay after the affair.

All the more so when hired by blockheaded Blue Knights.

And they had all vanished into the jungle now.

“Did he say Gracus emptied the Citadel vault?”

“Y-yes.”

“Then this money has no owner. I shall duly present it to the main House.”

If I offered it to the House’s Planetary Seat and elders, the ministers—that would be an offering to the main House all the same.

“……”

Gaveng’s face passed through an indescribable expression, then he shut his mouth when he saw the thunder greatsword at my hip.

Where would it be…?

I spared Gaveng no more thought and looked for the sword I had seen last time.

A crystal bearing the power of the Dreaming Thunder Star—a shard of a star inlaid along the blade like scattered chips—a star-sword.

It was here somewhere.

Write it up as ‘lost in action.’ There isn’t a Blue Knight alive who won’t come over for this.

Ah—there. Found it.

Chapter 99

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