Chapter 83: Banquet Hall

The banquet proceeded smoothly.

If anyone were to pick the most dazzling pair in the banquet hall, it would have been Princess Clarice and Isaac.

From the moment they first appeared, their striking looks drew everyone’s attention.

But soon after, they were naturally overshadowed by the eldest daughter, Adeline, who made her entrance shortly afterward.

“Look at them—every single one is just here to curry favor with my sister, aren’t they?”

Princess Clarice smiled, holding a wine glass in her hand.

Because the purpose of the banquet itself was to keep the nobles in check—essentially to strengthen ties with them—most of the attention was inevitably focused on Princess Adeline.

“I’ll just stay here and enjoy my drink. Isaac, go do what you need to do.”

“Then, I’ll be on my way.”

“Make sure you come back when it’s time to dance, alright?”

Isaac headed to a corner of the banquet hall.

There, a stout man with a slight paunch was drinking while wearing a formal military uniform that did not suit him in the least.

His name was Drian Belfort, the man who ruled Bolten—a place practically lawless.

At a glance, Baron Bolten exuded the aura of a bold leader.

Perhaps it was the skill he showed in putting down the so-called “Bolten Revolution,” when the underworld gangs lurking in Bolten’s shadows all rose in open rebellion.

He gave off a heavy, raw energy—something rarely seen in an ordinary knight.

He was more like a hunting dog craning its neck in search of prey than a guest at a lavish banquet.

Frankly, he did not seem to fit the atmosphere of a royal banquet at all.

Baron Bolten looked at Isaac briefly as he approached and remarked:

“Well, at least I can actually hold a conversation with you.”

With a faint curve of his lips, he welcomed Isaac.

It seemed there was some sense of camaraderie between those who had risen from commoner status to nobility.

“I am Baron Logan.”

“I’ve heard of you. I’m Baron Bolten. Think of me as the kingdom’s janitor, cleaning up its back alleys.”

It must have been a bit of humor, as Baron Bolten laughed and offered him a wineglass.

Accepting it, Isaac took a graceful sip and steered the conversation naturally.

“How is Bolten doing?”

“Are you thinking of traveling there? I’ll warn you now—if you’re not planning on drugs or gambling, there’s no reason to come.”

“But aren’t you the one governing the place, Baron? I’ve heard that after the revolution, things improved somewhat.”

“A cesspool is a cesspool, no matter how much you clean it.”

Perhaps discussing Bolten put him in a sour mood; Baron Bolten deliberately took a sip of his wine.

‘This man won’t be swayed by flattery,’ Isaac thought.

So he decided to speak plainly.

“The truth is, there are people I’m looking for in Bolten. They’re family members of a close friend of mine. After the revolution, they went missing—”

“They’re probably dead.”

His tone and gaze were unyielding.

Those gray eyes seemed to urge Isaac not to deny the truth.

“Do you know why it’s called a ‘revolution’ and not a ‘rebellion’ in Bolten?”

“……Because the citizens overturned the uprising themselves, right?”

“Exactly. They reclaimed their freedom under the kingdom’s protection. That’s why it’s referred to as a revolution.”

Bolten experienced both a “rebellion” and a “revolution.”

The underworld faction seized Bolten in a one-sided takeover—that was the rebellion.

Afterwards, Baron Bolten led the citizens to take it back, and that was the revolution.

Some nobles insisted that, since it was technically royal territory, it was more of a “restoration” than a revolution.

Nevertheless, most people refer to that chain of events as the Bolten Revolution.

It was a historic triumph achieved by the citizens’ collective will and under the kingdom’s protection.

The word “revolution” is, in a way, a term that heightens the drama of that moment.

“Many people died. Even if they weren’t in the rubble at the time, if they’ve been missing until now, it’s probably safe to assume they’re dead.”

“You’re quite certain.”

“I’ve witnessed enough death to know.”

Baron Bolten spoke with all the firmness of someone who has seen it firsthand.

Baron Bolten spoke calmly. He still had the look of someone wading through piles of rubble, battling rebel forces as if the fight were ongoing.

“Well, if Baron Logan truly wants to look for them, I can’t say it’s impossible. Just set a time and come find me.”

He spoke with a carefree tone.

Right then, a piercing shriek rang out from the banquet hall’s entrance.

Blood splattered in a manner most unfitting for a banquet.

At the forefront stood a faceless squad. They were literally formed of semi-translucent, bluish mana, wielding swords and spears likewise made of that same mana. They pushed their way into the hall—

—and marched straight toward Princess Adeline with unnerving focus.

The guards rushed to respond, but given that it happened in an instant, a proper defense was impossible.

“Ah.”

At the head of the assault was a swordsman like blue phantom, dashing toward Princess Adeline. Cutting down other nobles along the way, he reached her in the blink of an eye, blue longsword poised to strike—

Bpaak!

He was abruptly kicked aside and sent hurtling away.

It was Isaac, who—since he was already wearing his formal uniform as part of the banquet—could quickly intervene without drawing suspicion.

“Princess, are you alright?”

“Baron Logan…!”

Princess Adeline hesitated a moment, watching Isaac stand protectively in front of her.

“Who are these people? Or what are they? Is this some sort of ritual by the Transcendent race?”

“…I can’t say for sure.”

He sensed mana emanating from them, whereas the Transcendent race does not manipulate mana.

The swordsman of blue phantoms readied his stance again, clearly intending to cut down both Isaac and Princess Adeline at once.

He gripped his longsword in both hands and slashed diagonally. At that moment, Isaac swiftly scooped Princess Adeline into his arms, dodging to the side.

“Kyaa?!”

“—Ung! Fuck!...”

The blue phantom swordsman, not realizing his move had been anticipated, spat curses as though their evasion was pure luck.

‘He’s conscious…’ Isaac noted.

The swordsman tried to swing again.

But since he had already made two attempts on a royal princess’ life, that was more than enough leniency granted.

“Where do you think you’re—!”

Mana scattered across the banquet hall like sparks, causing the bluish phantom warriors to disperse one by one like smoke.

It took only seconds to subdue them. Naturally, the one responsible was—

“Don’t you dare toy with us—!”

—the Grandmaster, wielding a massive blade.

She moved with breathtaking speed. She rushed forward as if turning a waterwheel, and with a few swings, the intruders were cut in half in an instant.

The final swordsman failed to withstand even a single blow from the Grandmaster, and vanished.

“—Kheh! Don’t cower!”

Yet even as he faded into nothingness, bisected, he left behind a mocking laugh and a taunt:

“—I had a good time. See you around.”

****

A few hours later…

The once-resplendent banquet hall was in chaos, and only a handful of people remained.

“What they used is something called an ‘incorporeal summons’—a type of magic.”

A mage from the Mage Tower surveyed the aftermath and gave that explanation.

“But it’s a defunct spell. Ever since artifacts for long-distance communication were developed, there was no need for it.”

“…”

“It’s difficult to handle, the setup is quite complex, and it can only maintain a form—it doesn’t have real mass. Normally, it shouldn’t be able to harm anyone.”

Hearing this, Clarice let out a dry laugh.

“So, to summarize—”

Standing at the center of the banquet hall, she pointed to the entrance.

“Without any warning from the outside, suddenly around twenty soldiers just showed up at the entrance.”

She could only sigh.

After all the security measures taken for today’s banquet… what good had they done?

Security outside was indeed thorough.

However, no one could have expected that assassins would simply drop in at the banquet hall entrance.

They strode into the hall so boldly that it left everyone stunned.

“So you’re saying those people used some ancient, outdated magic that supposedly couldn’t even harm anyone because it was originally just for simple communication?”

Clarice clutched her throbbing head, her expression tense and complicated.

“If that’s the case, then there’s no telling where they might suddenly appear next, right?”

They had ignored all that tight security and waltzed right into the banquet hall, creating chaos.

If you’re not guarding someone around the clock, it’s too easy for things like this to happen again.

“They probably can’t do it that easily. The Mage Tower magicians will do everything they can to figure out exactly how they got in.”

These magicians, bound by contract to protect the royal palace, were determined to prove their worth. Otherwise, they’d face serious repercussions under the terms of their agreement.

“That bunch… They’re the ones you mentioned before, right?”

Clarice asked, and the Grandmaster nodded.

“They’re the so-called ‘Patrons’ who abandoned humanity and sided with the Transcendent race. They used this ‘incorporeal summon’ method when they contacted me.”

She added that she had no idea it could be used for terror attacks in such a manner.

Even so, her expression was far from pleasant.

“They’re rats—utterly fixated on hiding themselves, which makes them hard to find.”

Adeline spoke as well:

“It felt like they were taunting us. Like they were saying, ‘Catch us if you can.’”

She could still hear that mocking voice ringing in her ears, laughing about how they had “enjoyed themselves” here.

They had invaded the royal palace as if strolling into their own living room.

And they pulled off this entire stunt without suffering a single loss.

They had to be found.

Yet the only trace left behind was mana, already fading like scattered dust.

With this new threat looming over the palace, everyone was on edge—

“Considering how he gripped the hilt, we can approximate the length of the handle.”

Amid the tense silence, Isaac suddenly spoke.

“The blade length was about 140 centimeters—quite long, even for a longsword. On the other hand, his footwork was light rather than weighty, suggesting he wasn’t a knight, so if we hypothesize—”

“…Hmm?”

Clarice tilted her head, looking at Isaac.

Others did the same, puzzled about what he was getting at, but Isaac, lost in thought, kept talking as if under a spell:

“His movements were agile, and his swings fluid. Every strike had a feint woven into it. The slightly diagonal downward slash and psychological plays are characteristic of southern swordsmanship. Thanks to the hot climate, they typically dress lightly and train in a dance-like manner; some even call it ‘playful swordsmanship.’

But for a Southerner, using a longsword is unusual. As far as I know, any southern noble families using longswords are actually knights.

Yet his fighting style was not that of a knight. My guess is that he might be a second or third son of a noble house who broke away and became a wandering knight. Wandering knights typically base their style on their family’s swordsmanship, then adapt it by picking up bits and pieces from elsewhere.

That explains why his technique had so many extra feints that it felt almost crude, even for southern swordsmanship.

As for the ones who came behind him, at least one was using Caldias spear techniques. While northern spearwork is famous for its versatility and is fairly well-known, it’s not something that would just casually spread all the way south…”

“…”

“…”

“…”

Everyone stared at Isaac in silence. Eventually, he arrived at his conclusion and smiled pleasantly—almost cheerfully.

“Let’s look for a mercenary company. A group with diverse backgrounds, including a southern noble family that uses longswords. That’s probably who these people are.”

Clarice, having listened in a daze, clapped her hands without thinking.

“I saw that report about how you deduced Blackthorn was a traitor by observing the Transcendent race’s swordsmanship in the North, and to be honest, I thought it was exaggerated.”

“…”

“I’m sorry. Clearly, it was the truth.”

One could see plainly now—he hadn’t just learned swordsmanship from books.

*****

“Let’s look for a mercenary company. A group with diverse backgrounds, including a southern noble family that uses longswords. That’s probably who these people are.”

“…”

A gentle smile and a bright voice that only enhanced his already striking looks…

Plus the know-how to track down the real culprits just by analyzing a few clashes, and the martial skill to protect her first when danger struck…

There was no denying this was the very person who cut down the era of Helmut and opened a new horizon for the kingdom.

“Ah.”

It was strange.

Adeline found it impossible to tear her gaze away from Baron Logan, also known as Isaac.

In the end—

She hid behind her younger sister, who was making a fuss about getting started on the search right away, and whispered to one of her attendants:

“Please inform Baron Logan.”

She spoke softly:

“Have him come by tonight, for a little while.”

– – The End of The Chapter – –

 

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