Chapter 53: Attention from the Kingdom’s Upper Echelons
Nolan gestured for her to sit.
“It feels a bit strange hearing that. Just call me Nolan.”
Vivi didn’t stand on ceremony. She plopped down beside him, stretched her legs out straight, and let out a satisfied sigh.
Noticing the stiffness in her posture, Nolan asked casually, “Do your legs still hurt?”
“Much better.” Vivi flexed her thighs. “Father Kayan’s healing prayer is really something. I used to hate dealing with clergy. They always look at people with that affected, pitying gaze. But him… he looks fierce, yet he’s actually quite gentle.”
She tilted her head back, gazing up at the sky full of stars, and fell silent for a moment.
“Nolan.” She spoke again, suddenly. “I’m curious. What’s your real motive? Changing the kingdom? Erasing prejudice? The future you describe is too grand. So grand it feels like a bubble that could pop at any moment. Shouldn’t things like that be the concern of kings and great nobles, discussed in their council halls?”
Why does everyone keep asking me this? The kingdom’s stagnant mindset, built up over centuries, really does run deep. This kingdom is fated to fall apart. This time, I’ll be the one to overturn its decay, Nolan thought to himself.
He picked up a stick and stirred the campfire. Sparks leapt into the air, lighting up the calm lines of his face.
“Something only kings and nobles should think about?” he said with a quiet chuckle, tinged with mockery. “Vivi, you’re wrong. If a grand structure is supported only by a few polished pillars, its collapse is only a matter of time.”
“What’s a ‘structure’?” Vivi tilted her head.
“…Anyway, I mean a large building. Like the temple in Veli City. Don’t interrupt,” Nolan replied, slipping into an old habit of analogy. “When Elfin was first founded, its nobles were once the embodiment of glory and virtue. But what about now?”
He tossed the stick into the fire and watched as the flames consumed it.
“After centuries, their glory has long been hollowed out by the ambitions of their descendants. They’ve become parasites, clinging to the kingdom’s foundation and feeding on it.”
He turned his head. In the darkness, Vivi felt as if his green eyes flickered, like the fire itself burning within them.
“So the people are the true foundation of this nation. The fate of the kingdom is bound to every individual who lives on this land. And I am just one of them. My motive? I refuse to watch the country I love sink into ruin. I want to ignite the flame of renewal, Vivi. I want the people to awaken. Relying on heroes to drag everyone forward while others simply enjoy the results… doesn’t that seem a bit spineless?”
Seeing Vivi’s slightly dazed expression, he suddenly broke into a grin and winked playfully.
“Go ahead and laugh if you want. I know it sounds a bit over the top. But at least I’m striving for my ideals. And of course, if I can gain both fame and fortune along the way, all the better. Ha!”
Vivi didn’t laugh. She had always thought she disliked people who shone like the blazing sun.
Though she didn’t understand what he meant by “over the top,” she felt her heart surge as if washed by a powerful tide. His words, his gaze, that long-lost spirit of classical chivalric idealism he carried… all of it made her tremble.
So this was why even someone as proud as Hank was willing to follow him. What he sought was not conquest, but salvation. A salvation that belonged to the people themselves. What he intended to set in motion was not a war, but a transformation—one powerful enough to overturn the entire old world.
In that moment, all of Vivi’s doubts and unease vanished like smoke.
Life was but a fleeting century or two. Compared to rotting away in obscurity, what could be more exhilarating than chasing a light bright enough to illuminate an entire age, and taking part in something truly monumental?
Vivi suddenly sprang to her feet, as if to shake off the weight of the moment. Hands on her hips, she shook her head, her tiger ears swaying along with the motion. “If you ask me, you’re hopelessly naive… but I like the part about fame and fortune. It makes me want to follow you and see just how far you can go.” She stretched wide, her body forming a graceful arc, her tail straightening behind her. “I’m sleepy. Good night, you naive ‘knight.’”
With that, she turned and disappeared into the shadows of the tents, her steps light and quick.
No sooner had she left than Hank, coming to take over the watch, walked over with a yawn. Even out in the wild, his uniform was as neat as ever, and a fresh cigar was already between his lips.
He glanced at Vivi’s retreating figure and lowered his voice. “What were you talking about so late? Kid, let me remind you—don’t get so caught up in romance that you forget the real business.”
Nolan stood as well, smiling as he clapped Hank on the shoulder and stretched his slightly stiff body. “Tch, do I look like that kind of person? I was just… confirming that we share the same ideals and ambitions.” He yawned, the fatigue finally catching up with him. “I’m exhausted. I’ll leave the rest to you.”
***
At that very moment, on the opposite direction from their journey, in Rosenberg…
The oil lamp in the guard command office was still burning late into the night. Klose stared at the mountain of reports piled across his desk, rubbing his throbbing temples.
Since the undead incursion, the city’s morale had never been more unified, yet public order had paradoxically grown more complicated. The battle report sent to the royal capital had vanished without a trace, which only deepened his unease. Nolan’s assessment of the kingdom’s current state had been correct.
Shaking his head, he forced himself back to the paperwork. Scattered reports of undead sightings and harassment. Unscrupulous merchants taking advantage of the chaos. Secret cults spreading unrest…
Each matter demanded his personal attention as the acting captain of the guard.
Only now did he truly understand that safeguarding a city’s peace was far more difficult than he had ever imagined. He couldn’t help but wonder how Captain Hank had managed to endure it for over a decade.
Knock, knock. A rap sounded at the door.
“Captain, there’s a visitor asking to see you… identity unknown,” came the guard’s uncertain voice from outside.
“Who is it?” Klose snapped without even looking up. “At this hour? What kind of ‘visitor’ shows up now? Can’t you see I’m drowning in work? Tell them to come back tomorrow!”
The voice outside hesitated, “Uh, Captain, he insists on—hey, wait a—!”
Before the sentence could finish, the door to the command room was pushed open by a hand clad in a black glove. The man entered at an unhurried pace, his movements elegant as he removed the hood covering his head.
Already irritable from exhaustion, Klose was just about to slam his hand on the table and berate whoever had the audacity to be so rude.
But the moment he saw the man’s face, all his anger dissolved into shock. He froze, eyes wide. Quickly, he waved his hand, dismissing the guard who was about to step in and remove the intruder. “You’ve done enough. Return to the main gate. Don’t disturb us.”
The guard blinked in confusion, but with the captain’s order given, he had no grounds to object. He saluted and disappeared into the darkness.
“You… you… could it be… Lord Owen, the ‘Tattooed Count’?”
Closing the door behind him, Klose felt a storm surge through his heart. He had only seen this man once before, from afar, during a ceremony in the royal capital. But that face was unforgettable. He was a powerful figure within the royalist faction, and the most trusted right hand of Her Highness Princess Flina. What was someone like him doing in a remote border city like Rosenberg?
The man known as the “Tattooed Count” appeared to be under forty. He stood tall, dressed in a perfectly tailored black longcoat, a finely crafted silver longsword at his waist. Most striking of all was the dark, flame-shaped tattoo on his right cheek, stretching from the corner of his eye down to his jaw. It lent an air of eerie authority to his otherwise refined and handsome features.
He stepped further into the room, his gaze sweeping over the cluttered documents on the desk. A faint smile rested on his lips, his aristocratic manners impeccable. “I didn’t expect my name to carry even a little weight on the kingdom’s frontier. At such a late hour, I must apologize for the intrusion, Captain. I happened to pass through and wished to verify a few matters with you.” He suddenly turned, raising a finger to his lips in a gentle gesture for silence, his smile never fading. “Ah, and one more thing. My visit tonight… I would prefer it remain confidential.”
Klose swallowed and nodded, nervously adjusting his collar. “Of course. Please, ask whatever you wish. I will answer truthfully to the best of my knowledge.”
The Tattooed Count walked over to the map and lightly tapped a finger on the spot marked Rosenberg. His voice was calm. “About the undead conflict that occurred here some days ago… I would like to know every detail.” His finger paused. A hint of amusement flickered in his eyes. “And, if you don’t mind indulging a bit of personal curiosity… I’ve heard certain rumors in the city about a so-called ‘hero.’”