The inside of the fortress was literally chaos.
Well, it was no wonder, considering the sudden appearance of a hero was enough to make anyone faint, and on top of that, the hero had brought the entire Nord tribe with him.
To make matters worse, he was the chief of the Nord tribe, a pretty big deal.
“Uh, nice to meet you. I’m Count Gelt, in charge of this fortress,” said a man who radiated an air entirely unrelated to war, reaching out his hand towards Rudell.
“Nice to meet you, I’m Rudellheit Weinstein,” Rudell said with a light smile as he shook the hand.
However, Count Gelt’s gaze wasn’t on Rudell.
His eyes were fixed beyond Rudell.
On the huge form of the chief of the Nord tribe, Chief Dagruul.
“B-By the way, what the heck is going on here…?”
“I’d like to arrange a peace conference with the Empire.”
“P-Peace conference?” Gelt’s mouth fell open in shock.
When you think about it, it made sense given how much blood had been shed between the Empire and the Nord tribe.
They were essentially sworn enemies, and co-existence was practically impossible.
“Yes, that’s why I’d like to borrow some magical tools for communication…”
Of course, the border fortresses were generally equipped with communication magical tools.
This was to ensure rapid connection between the fortresses in times of need.
And right now, these tools were exactly what Rudell needed the most.
“Y-You mean the communication magical tools!? I’ll get them right away!”
No matter how foreign the noble was, a hero is a hero.
Anyone, groups, or nations that did not cooperate with a hero would face massive penalties in their relations with the Holy Kingdom, so most factions were cooperative towards heroes.
After all, who wants to be tortured by the Inquisition for no reason?
“While you wait, you can’t just stand here, so let’s go inside the fortress.”
“Let’s do that. Thank you for your cooperation, Count.”
Rudell smiled and said that to Gelt as he headed inside the inner fortress with his party.
“Um, by the way, what about that wolf…”
“Oh, you mean Fenrir? It’s a Sacred Beast. Don’t worry, it shouldn’t go on a rampage.”
Gelt, who had been glancing at Fenrir, cautiously turned to Rudell and started speaking.
In order to reassure him, Rudell responded.
“S-Sacred Beast!? Good heavens…!!”
Gelt let out an exclamation, seemingly at a loss for words.
I mean, it’s no surprise; a Sacred Beast is just as rare as a Hero!
Why is this happening to me?
Rudell couldn’t help but suppress a laugh at Gelt’s expression, as if he was silently asking that.
Thus, as Rudell and his party arrived at the inner city, they made their way to the Reception Room inside the Fortress.
It was quite sparse compared to the Reception Rooms of the Count’s House or the Duke’s House, but considering this place was a military fortress, it was understandable.
“Everyone, please take a seat. I’ll bring some warm tea.”
At Gelt’s invitation, everyone settled down, and he nodded to the attendant following him.
The attendant left the room and soon returned, placing steaming cups of tea in front of Rudell and his companions.
“Is there a bigger chair? This seat feels a bit cramped.”
“I-I’ll go get one! I’ll hurry and bring a bigger chair!”
Dagruul, with his rather large build, asked with a frown.
At the same time, Gelt, looking anxious, hurriedly instructed the attendant, who dashed out of the Reception Room.
An awkward atmosphere settled in the Reception Room.
“Um… Excuse me, can I ask a question?”
“Go ahead.”
As if trying to break the awkward silence, Gelt asked Rudell. Rudell picked up his tea cup and nodded.
“What exactly is this peace negotiation about?”
“Well… it’s a bit complicated…”
In response to his question, Rudell took a sip of tea with a low groan, gathering his thoughts.
After a moment, he set down his cup and began explaining his plan to Gelt.
The truth that the monstrous beast’s rampant multiplication and ferocity happening in the Eternal Winter Plains was orchestrated by the Church, and the Nord tribe was merely a scapegoat for it.
What was important now was to set aside past grievances and quickly thwart the Church’s schemes.
“It was about the fact that this peace talk is necessary for him and so on.”
“Is that how it worked out?”
“Ah, so that’s how it was…”
As Rudell shared his story, Gelt nodded. Just then—
“Ch-Check! We are connected with the Imperial Guard!”
A soldier burst into the room and placed a small crystal orb on the table where everyone had gathered.
Gelt reached out and lightly touched the surface of the crystal orb, and at that moment, light from magic surged from within the orb, starting to form a shape in the air.
And then…
“Oh?”
[That’s a familiar face.]
The figure created by the light was a face Rudell had seen before.
A knight with the seasoned appearance that truly embodied the term “battle-hardened veteran.”
The commander of the Empire’s knights who had risen to the occasion to test the qualifications of a hero alongside Rudell and Leje at the Hero Selection Tournament. Pachelbel Brant.
“Greetings, Pachelbel. It’s been quite a while since we last met in the Holy Kingdom.”
[No need for pleasantries. We’re both busy, aren’t we?]
Pachelbel bluntly said this as he lightly nodded towards Rudell.
Though it might come off as rude, now wasn’t the time for Rudell to nitpick such things.
Besides, considering how he acted in the Holy Kingdom, he seemed more focused on efficiency than on formalities.
[So, is what I just heard true? A peace agreement between the Empire and the Nord tribe? You want me to believe this? The Nord tribe is made up of barbarians; how can we trust them?]
Unsurprisingly, his immediate reaction was negative.
Given that he himself had fought against the Nord tribe for many years and taking into account the bloody history between the Nord and Empire, his response was, in fact, the more rational one.
Of course, Rudell wasn’t the type to back down.
“That’s right.”
[It seems you need to learn how to respect the histories of other nations.]
Pachelbel replied in a voice tinged with anger as he looked at Rudell, who was nodding along.
“But even if the world is facing its end, do you still wish to dwell on past histories?”
[What?]
In response to his continued remarks, Pachelbel retreated his angered tone and narrowed his eyes, looking at Rudell as if demanding an explanation.
“Once again, the Nord tribe’s invasion of the Empire is a scheme orchestrated by the Death Eaters of the Church. While we engage in such a wasteful debate, they are secretly concocting more plots beneath the surface.”
[Those guys again…]
He had personally witnessed the scale of the incident orchestrated by the Church in the Holy Kingdom.
As the conversation turned to the Church’s involvement, the fury on his face began to fade.
Noticing the seriousness on his face, Rudell decided to drive the point home.
“Moreover, the chief of the Nord tribe is also here with us.”
[What…?]
“Just take a look for yourself.”
To Pachelbel, who let out an incredulous sigh, Rudell turned the crystal ball to show Dagruul.
[You…!!]
“I remember you, General Pachelbel, an exceptional warrior.”
The two recognized each other and exchanged a brief conversation before Rudell turned the crystal ball back to himself to avoid the situation worsening.
“The chief of the Nord tribe trusts me enough to come to the Empire’s fortress. Would you give me a chance and create a space for us?”
[…]
Seeing Rudell’s earnest plea, Pachelbel stroked his chin in thought.
It was, of course, a matter for concern.
Even with an apocalypse looming, grudges built up over decades or centuries aren’t so easily brushed aside.
An unbearable silence filled the reception room as everyone tensed up and watched the scene unfold.
[I’ll report to His Majesty the Emperor, but don’t get your hopes up too high.]
“That’s enough for me. Thank you, Sir Pachelbel.”
With a short sigh, Pachelbel responded, and Rudell sincerely expressed his gratitude.
At the same time, the light in the crystal ball faded, and Pachelbel’s image, which had been suspended in the air, dispersed like mist.
“Well then, all that’s left is to wait.”
In the stillness of the reception room, Rudell exhaled a breath of relief, tension slipping away.
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