Chapter 27
Then, a man approached from behind Oscar. Unlike the men in suits, his clothes were in disarray, looking as though he had just come from a battlefield. He was the one who had been hiding in the brush all along, waiting for Oscar’s arrival. In a tight, raspy voice, he quickly reported the situation.
“The search team has recovered the bodies of three fallen members. However, we have been unable to locate the team leader and deputy leader, who appear to have been taken alive.”
“Survival probability.”
Oscar asked the question, but he already knew the answer.
“…We are continuing the search with the goal of recovering their remains.”
Oscar took a deep drag of his cigarette and let out a low, dry laugh.
In other words, an entire intelligence team that had infiltrated the Beta Mercenary Corps—the secret auxiliary force of the King of Luxen—had been effectively wiped out.
At Oscar’s laugh, not only the man reporting but also Simon and the Wolves held their breath. Letting out a laugh as dry as uncooled embers, Oscar tossed his half-finished cigarette onto the gravel of the tracks and slowly ground it under his heel.
“For an entire team deployed in sequence to be discovered, not just one or two…”
And for it to happen not even within the Luxen Royal Palace, but within a mercenary group serving as an auxiliary force.
Through the long exhale of smoke, his sapphire eyes flashed with a cruel light.
“It means I’m being toyed with inside someone’s palm.”
Moreover, they had said the bodies were dismembered and fed to the hounds that hunt wolves. It was no different from a public display of the slaughtered Wolves, meant to be seen.
“What are your orders?”
Oscar spoke while staring down the seemingly endless stretch of railroad tracks.
“Discard all intelligence reported by Intelligence Team 3-2.”
Since the information came from a compromised team, it was the only logical course of action.
“Stop the search for the two who were captured.”
But at the cold command that followed, the scarred Wolf lifted his head. The man was about to plead for permission to search just one more time, but seeing his master pulling on his sleek black gloves, he bowed his head again.
In the distance, another train was approaching.
Oscar took a few steps back and unbuttoned the top of his shirt, which felt suffocating. As he thrust his gloved hands into his pockets, the head of the train roared past him with a tremendous gust of wind. Simultaneously, the loud screech of metal on metal echoed as the train slowed down abruptly.
Once the train came to a complete stop—having braked so hard it was nearly an emergency halt—Oscar climbed the steps.
Unlike the train Seo-ah had boarded, which was luxuriously decorated, the interior of this train looked like a skeletal frame of steel that fire had failed to consume. Inside the cabin, where the silver metal was exposed, were men just as raw and cold.
The elite search and combat teams of Reinhardt bowed deeply toward the master who had summoned them, and Oscar walked a long path through the rows of sharp-edged Wolves.
With a metallic groan, the train began to move.
Finally reaching the seat of honor from which he could oversee everyone, Oscar continued his final review as he looked down at the weapons bowing before him.
The mercenary corps where the compromised agents had been stationed was a paramilitary group the King of Luxen used for his secret dirty work. The assassins who had followed them to Pelfe had also come on the mercenary corps’ orders. Since they were the ones handling the King’s various foul deeds, he had attempted to plant an intelligence team there to uncover his secret agendas.
Yet they were caught, and—
“They tore the Wolves apart and fed them to the hounds.”
At those low, spat-out words, the men who had been bowing slowly raised their heads.
Oscar’s deeply sunken eyes met the eyes of the agents, which were simmering with a thirst for revenge. When every agent eventually stood tall and met Oscar’s gaze, he finished his assessment.
If he couldn’t find out what the King was plotting, he would simply cut off the hand doing the plotting. Since that hand had been dipped in filth, the King wouldn’t be able to pick it back up once it was severed.
“Five days.”
Oscar gave his command.
“Bring me the head of the leader of the Beta Mercenary Corps within five days.”
The agents, who had the images of their brutally murdered comrades flickering before their eyes, answered loudly as if they had been waiting for that very order.
“We obey your command, Your Excellency!”
***
Luxen.
A place with a mild climate all year round and vast, generous lands without a single rugged corner. Geographically located in the center of the Norfolk Continent, it had been a hub of trade for generations. Money naturally gathered there, and where money gathered, art and culture flourished.
In particular, the capital of Luxen, Vues, was called the Pearl of Norfolk. Its art and culture were so developed that a common museum one might stumble upon was often more magnificent than the royal palaces of other nations. But the pinnacle of Vues’s artistry was, without question, the Royal Palace.
At the main gate of the palace, massive pillars reaching ten meters in height stood in perfect symmetry, and atop each pillar, the royal symbol—a double-headed eagle—looked out in all directions with its great wings spread. Just as the two pillars were symmetrical, the Royal Palace itself achieved a perfect balance.
However, the true beauty of this symmetry was not when viewed from the outside, but when looking out from within the palace. This was because the palace’s designer had planned everything from the King’s perspective.
Located at the center of that symmetry, and at the heart of the palace, was the King’s balcony.
It was the most beautiful balcony in the palace—and some praised it as the most beautiful in the world. The marble balcony was a work of art from its railings to its floor, but the view from it was the true masterpiece.
An unobstructed view against the backdrop of a year-round blue sky. The golden eagles shimmering brilliantly under that azure expanse.
Looking down from the railing, one saw a grass garden laid out in beautiful patterns, and following those patterns, the gaze met a symmetrically placed fountain. On either side were corridors made of dozens of arches. The palace garden was a painting created for the King, framed by those corridors.
It was a balcony everyone showered with praise, yet there was one person who didn’t just dislike it, but loathed it.
The problem was that he was the master of the palace and the owner of the balcony—the King himself.
Leopold, the King of Luxen, stood motionless in the center of the balcony, staring straight ahead. It wasn’t that Leopold had always hated the balcony. At one time, he had loved it enough to have the view painted so he could keep it forever.
That was, until that bastard started getting on his nerves.
Beyond the main gate, directly in line with the balcony, was a very wide circular intersection. And in the center of that intersection stood a towering statue.
In a place where a statue of the first King should have stood, there was instead a statue of the late Marquis Reinhardt.
The hero of the nation.
Even now, commoners looked up at the statue as they passed by, busy explaining the glory of Reinhardt to their children.
That damn statue, visible every single day, always reminded him of that pretty-faced brat.
But then, was it only the statue?
Leopold stared at Oscar’s face occupying the front page of the morning newspaper before hurling it away.
Recently, Luxen’s major dailies had been talking incessantly about either the news of falling foreign royal houses or the growth of the Reinhardt Steel Company. Since they couldn’t put the news of a fallen foreign royalty on the front page, it was usually Oscar’s photo that took the spot.
「The Pillar of Luxen, Reinhardt Steel Company.」
With a godforsaken headline like that.
While the Head Maid, who had been standing like a shadow, leaned down to pick up the newspaper, a middle-aged gentleman entered the balcony through the open doors.
“Your Majesty.”
It was Count Jerome, often called King Leopold’s right hand. At the end of last year, he had succeeded in making his only daughter the King’s fiancée.
The Count bowed respectfully to the King, but Leopold barely acknowledged him as he put a cigarette to his lips. The Head Maid, who had folded the newspaper and placed it on the sofa, approached and lit the King’s cigarette. When she closed the doors, Leopold asked in an irritable tone.
“Did you see today’s paper?”
“……”
“The news I want isn’t there, and instead it says, ‘The Pillar of Luxen, Reinhardt Steel Company.’ At this rate, they’ll be asking to change the name of the country to Reinhardt soon.”
“Your Majesty.”
“What should I do? Should I follow King Felpe’s lead, set up a bank, and try selling some accounts?”
Leopold snapped fiercely, tapping the ash off his cigarette.
“You boasted that this time you could surely kill him, but far from killing him, how is it that not a single one of our men returned alive?”
“I am sorry. I have no excuse.”
“It wouldn’t be that you can’t kill him because you’re worried about the Marchioness, would it?”
At the pointed question, Count Jerome’s face stiffened slightly.
