Even after the victory, we were incredibly busy.
We had captured a large number of prisoners. Each one needed to be thoroughly interrogated.
Sometimes a single piece of intelligence matters more than a victory. If we could learn even roughly when Henrietta would lead her main force into battle, our strategic options would expand tremendously. Torturing prisoners was essential. Human rights? If humans had any rights at all, the only one was the right to die.
"Aaaaargh!"
Torturing common soldiers yielded nothing useful. So I focused on the officer-class prisoners. Most of them were nobles.
"I don't ask much of you."
I smiled brightly, holding up an iron rod heated red in the fire.
"I simply want to know how things stand at the Frank Imperial Palace. How is Her Majesty the Empress Dowager faring? How grave is the Emperor's condition? Surely these are simple questions?"
"Urgh… ah… you demon spawn."
The noble prisoner foamed at the mouth yet refused to spill any information.
Impressive. Truly superhuman endurance. If I were the one being tortured with a red-hot iron, I had no doubt I would blurt out every last secret without a moment's hesitation.
"Very well. I salute your perseverance. To express my respect, I have a special gift for you. Please, do not refuse."
That night, a full-course torture session was carried out in lavish fashion.
We dosed the prisoners to the brim with aphrodisiacs, then brought in orcs to rape them. Each time they refused to talk, we dragged an innocent common soldier before their eyes and executed him on the spot. When the agony made them lose consciousness, we deployed succubuses to continue the torture in their dreams.
The results were concise and clear.
"…Her Majesty the Empress Dowager has been… confined to a separate palace for three years… unable to step foot outside…"
"The Emperor has been critically ill since a few days ago…"
"P-please. I'll tell you anything, just spare me!"
It took only two hours for all six noble prisoners to completely break and surrender their information.
I cross-verified each one's testimony. I asked all six the same questions and compared their answers. Since even one person might be lying, this was a mandatory step. And it turned out every single one had been telling the truth.
Wonderful. I was thoroughly satisfied. Thanks to this, I'd obtained a considerable amount of intelligence.
If they were going to give it up eventually, why resist in the first place? If they'd cooperated from the start, it would have been easier for everyone. They avoid torture, I save time — a win-win no matter how you look at it. Humans really are strange creatures.
"Lord Dantalion."
While I was still immersed in the interrogation, a messenger entered. An elf. Elves have exceptional senses of smell, and the moment the elf stepped into the torture chamber, he grimaced. The room reeked of blood, chemicals, and orc secretions.
I set down the iron rod.
"What is it?"
"My apologies. The sentries have captured a suspicious individual. She says she absolutely must meet the human girl from today's duel and has surrendered voluntarily. She asked to be treated politely as a prisoner."
I frowned. Someone who knew Daisy? That was impossible. Daisy had spent her entire life in a remote mountain farming village.
I was about to dismiss it as nonsense, but then the messenger revealed the surrenderer's name, and I couldn't help but be shocked.
"The human introduced herself as Baron Bersie."
"Baronet! It's been far too long!"
Baron Bersie was kneeling in the tent with all four limbs bound. His posture was submissive, but his face radiated quiet dignity. He had the appearance of a great oak that had weathered every storm and rooted itself firmly in the earth.
When I entered the tent, Baron Bersie looked startled.
"Jean Volé? Could you be Father Jean Volé?"
"Unless there happen to be two Jean Volés in the world — yes, of course I am."
I answered with a smile. That's right. I was wearing the disguise mask made specifically for Jean Volé.
Baron Bersie murmured to himself.
"I thought I might run into you, but I never imagined a priest would actually be here…"
"I never could have imagined it either. Meeting again in a place like this. Here, allow me."
I drew a short blade and carefully cut the ropes binding the Baron's limbs. Soon his arms and legs were free.
"…Thank you. But even if we are acquainted, wouldn't it be unwise to release me so easily?"
"I trust you, Baron Bersie."
I smiled.
"Four years ago, you struck me as a benevolent and wise lord. If four years' time had been enough to make you so weak as to break that impression, then my actions would have been foolish indeed. Tell me — are you weak, Baron Bersie?"
"Father Jean Volé, I simply cannot win against you."
Baron Bersie gave a bitter laugh. No more words were needed. We opened our arms and embraced. I felt his thick, powerful hands on my back. And then — *ding* — a sound effect rang out.
[Baron Bersie's Affinity has increased by 7.]
The Baron released the embrace and looked at my face. He was smiling, but there was something wry about it.
"Father Jean Volé, I have so many questions. How on earth did you end up in the Demon Lord's army… no. In Rudolf von Habsburg's forces?"
"I have plenty of questions of my own. How are the kind folk of Bersie doing? Surely a couple of hours won't be enough to catch up."
We sat across from each other at a table. I brought out wine and offered it to him. After a few exchanges of pleasantries and toasts, we got down to business.
"There's no point hiding secrets here, is there? Your Excellency. The truth is, I have deep ties to the Batavia Republic."
"…I see. So that was the case after all."
Baron Bersie nodded.
"Oh? You knew?"
"I didn't know at all. But after you left, I heard rumors of your movements from time to time. Rallying the nobles of northern Frank and drawing Batavia into the conflict against Bretagne — I thought no ordinary human could have pulled that off…"
Baron Bersie toyed with his wine glass.
"Father Jean Volé, if you had been the one behind it all, that changes everything. You have the ability to shake the entire north. Do you remember what you said to me when you left Bersie?"
"Of course I do."
I grinned.
"If Your Excellency does not believe in God, then you should not believe in rank either — because people claim that it is God who assigns rank in the first place."
"Precisely. I don't know if you're aware, but after your party departed, I agonized over the state of Frank's politics for quite some time…"
Bingo.
I clenched my fist in silent triumph. Baron Bersie was, so to speak, one of the seeds I had planted during the civil war four years ago. The seed's name was republicanism. The more the world descended into chaos, the more that murky blue fog served as fertilizer for it to grow.
Baron Bersie was a capable lord. He had surely taken pride in nothing more than protecting his people. What must such a man have thought, watching the Emperor of Frank?
Willingly dragging in foreign powers to protect his own power, and even going so far as to imprison his own mother — such atrocities. Could one swear loyalty to such a human? Could one entrust this nation's fate, its people's well-being, to an Emperor like that…
It seemed the seed I'd planted had successfully bloomed.
I wanted to shout for joy right then and there, but held back. If I pressed too hard now, I'd be giving myself away. Let me change the subject for a moment.
"If you don't mind my asking, how did you come to be here?"
"The Emperor issued a mobilization order. Every lord in eastern Frank was required to raise troops. For reference, I was elevated to Baron three years ago. Thanks to that, I was able to bring a fair number of my people to the battlefield…"
Baron Bersie gulped down his wine. Promotion probably wasn't something to celebrate in his mind. The Emperor had been reduced to a puppet, the Empress Dowager was imprisoned — and that was when the promotion happened. In other words, it had been orchestrated by Bretagne.
"A 'neutral' stance, then… I can understand Your Excellency's frustration."
During the last civil war, most of the northern nobility had joined the rebellion. Despite being located in the northeast, Baron Bersie had maintained a firm neutrality until the very end. He had done nothing. And paradoxically, that was exactly what earned him respect.
Baron Bersie spoke with self-mockery.
"While my compatriots were falling in defense of the nation, I stubbornly refused to budge under the sole conviction of protecting my people."
"It was the natural choice for a lord."
"No — it was foolish. I never imagined the Queen of Bretagne would grow this powerful. My compatriots saw the future that I failed to see… I was simply a fool acting out of selfishness."
We clinked our glasses in silence. The crystal rang.
"Daisy — you said that was her name. I was surprised to see that child enter the duel. I thought you might be here, because you're not the type to abandon your ward. I slipped away from the column of stragglers."
"…"
I held the wine in my mouth and studied Baron Bersie's eyes carefully.
"Your Excellency. Let's drop the act."
"…Act?"
"You said I would never abandon my ward, and I'd like to return the same words to you. You came here with your people under arms. If word got out that you had deserted, your people would never be allowed to live in peace."
The commander had deserted. His people would suffer unimaginable treatment.
"I simply cannot believe, Your Excellency, that you abandoned your own people and deserted just to come meet me. You are the very model of a feudal lord — a man who holds a noble's duty as sacred above all else."
"…"
"Perhaps you convinced the other commanders. You might have argued that I could possibly be here, and that you alone had the ability to negotiate with me. And they accepted a temporary absence on the strength of that argument."
They were Frank's soldiers, not Bretagne's.
Fighting in the current situation — on behalf of the Queen of Bretagne — must have been hard to swallow. If we had simply been the Demon Lord's army, they could have justified fighting "for all of humanity," even if it inadvertently served Bretagne's queen.
But yesterday's battle had given considerable weight to the fact that we were, in fact, a human army. Frank's officers would have agonized. If they kept fighting like this, they would be killing their own kind for the sake of Bretagne's queen. What meaning could there be in that…
And in that situation, Baron Bersie had volunteered as a special envoy. Given his track record, his comrades must have trusted him deeply. They believed in him and sent him here…
"In short, Your Excellency, you are not a deserter but a special emissary of the Frank military. Am I wrong?"
"…I really cannot get the better of Father Jean Volé."
Baron Bersie laughed, hollow and defeated.
He set down his wine glass and abruptly seized both my hands. His eyes were cold, yet burned with fierce intensity.
"Frank is in mortal peril. If this continues, it will vanish into the annals of history without so much as a scream. If that were all there were to it, I would gladly send Frank off with a smile. But history always demands the blood of its people."
"…"
"Father Jean Volé. Please, work with us. Help us drive out Bretagne's mad queen and return Frank to its people."
It was precisely the proposal I had been longing for.