A Beginner’s Guide to Being a Scoundrel

Chapter 145

Chapter 145

Someone approached from behind me. When I turned my head slightly, the Sword Saint—who I hadn’t even noticed coming over—stood beside me with a hollow chuckle.

“How is it? I picked myself one hell of a disciple, didn’t I?”

“You really did. To be honest, I’m jealous to the point of madness.”

At his teasing, Rubel gave a bitter smile and shook his head. When I looked at the two of them with narrowed eyes, the Sword Saint shrugged and spoke.

“Shall we move somewhere quiet for a moment?”

As the two giants standing at the peaks of their respective empires began to move, the atmosphere in the banquet hall subtly shifted. But the two men, as if unconcerned, walked on with calm expressions.

The quiet place the Sword Saint referred to was the terrace of the banquet hall.

A few guests were chatting there, but when he gave a slight signal with his eyes, they all bowed and vacated the space. Soon, the gazes of the three of us standing on the terrace intertwined.

“You’ve already exchanged introductions, so there’s no need for anything formal. To explain first, he’s been helping me with my work for a long time now.”

“We’ve had strange things happening on our side for ages as well. I never imagined non-human races were involved. I’ve received tremendous help from the Sword Saint in that regard, and I can only be grateful.”

“I see.”

Listening to the two of them, I slowly mulled over the situation. Then that meant the Sword Saint had already been preparing for a war with the Demonic Realm from this point onward.

I lifted my head and looked at General Rubel.

In truth, there wasn’t much information about him. He was a well-known figure in the Oskal Empire, mentioned a few times at most. In the war against the Demonic Realm—where we would have crossed paths—his nation had been destroyed by internal strife, leaving him no chance to appear.

That was why hearing, for the first time now, that he had been forming a joint front with the Sword Saint beneath the surface came as a surprise.

“……”

When I looked at the Sword Saint, asking whether General Rubel was someone I could trust, he gave a small nod.

Given my lack of information, caution was unavoidable. I couldn’t blindly trust his judgment, but he had been active in this world far longer than I had, and given who the Sword Saint was, he must have thoroughly investigated Rubel before reaching his conclusion.

“…There are rats that have slipped into this gathering as well.”

That was why I decided to grant Rubel a minimum level of trust. I couldn’t place full confidence in him, not knowing how things might turn out later, but at the very least, he seemed someone I could form a joint front with, just like the Sword Saint.

“Oh?”

At my words, both the Sword Saint and Rubel widened their eyes in interest. I then told them about what had happened during the Verification of Qualifications.

“They showed a rejection reaction to the light of Excalibur, you say….”

Rubel looked at me as if to say that was too much of a leap based on that alone, but I shook my head.

“No matter how patient they are, they can’t defy that kind of compatibility. There were a few who merely squinted because of the light, but those people showed a different reaction—something more fundamental, a deeper aversion.”

“I see. Still, that alone isn’t enough to brand them as demons or Majin. Is there a more obvious way to confirm it?”

The Sword Saint asked as well, clearly sharing Rubel’s concern. I nodded, as if it were obvious.

“Physical contact with me will suffice. A handshake should do.”

I drew out the divine power dwelling within Excalibur and wrapped it around my palm. If I shook hands like that, an ordinary person would feel nothing, but anyone wearing human skin would have their hand scorched by the divine power.

There would be a commotion afterward, but we could suppress the situation in the Sword Saint’s name, draw Excalibur, and judge right and wrong then and there.

‘I’ve been paying too much attention to the gathering.’

There were many powerful individuals here, including the Sword Saint. If I were the ruler of the Demonic Realm, I would have disguised servants or similar low-level figures, but whether they were after information or simply greedy, they had sent several Sword Master–class individuals into the gathering.

“And I’d like to do that assessment on the final day of the gathering.”

“The final day? Is there a reason to delay it that long?”

Rubel asked with a puzzled expression. The Sword Saint’s eyes gleamed as he nodded.

“You’re waiting for Sword Marshal General Isaac.”

“Yes. There are people who only participate on the second or third day, after all. Most try to attend on the final day if possible, so it seems best to distinguish black from white then. …And I’ve got a score to settle with him as well.”

Even now, recalling how I’d been used during the Academic Festival made irritation well up. Because of that, Werner had even lost his father.

‘He said he’d start participating from the second day, so I should ask about Isaac’s movements.’

“Sword Marshal General Isaac, huh.”

Rubel rolled the name on his tongue with interest. Coincidentally, both of them were called “general.”

However, while Rubel held the position in earnest, in Isaac’s case it carried more symbolic meaning.

“I exchanged greetings briefly at the last gathering. I remember him as having a very solid character.”

If he could remember him that clearly from a brief encounter, he must have left quite an impression. When Rubel asked whether Isaac might be connected to the other side, I gave a brief explanation of what had happened at the Academic Festival.

“…I see. Using the Anti-Imperial Faction and receiving help from Majin to stage a rebellion….”

“Calling it a rebellion is generous. In reality, the entire nation was played like a fiddle. Aside from me, no one would have realized that everyone moving behind the scenes was dancing in the palm of his hand.”

The Majin, as an exception, seemed to know who they had contracted with, but they had all been erased by my hand.

Still, now that my identity had been revealed, they must have realized that I, too, was the true culprit. It wouldn’t be strange for them to make a move soon.

“Then let’s follow my disciple’s words and act on the final day.”

“Just in case, I’ll refrain from telling those under me as well. This will be a good opportunity to weed out the impure elements.”

Rubel bowed slightly to the Sword Saint, then waved lightly at me, saying he would take his leave first. That friendly gesture, which didn’t quite match his image, made it feel as though I’d gained a reliable uncle. Taking the opportunity, I cautiously asked,

“By any chance, among General Rubel’s family….”

“The same as you. My son died. My only one.”

“…I see.”

The Sword Saint, too, had lost his child to Majin. That had been Esmeralda’s parents, and in order to avenge them, he had begun moving beneath the surface to eradicate demons and Majin.

Rubel carried the same wound, using it as fuel to drive himself forward.

“He looked cold on the surface, but….”

“That’s what makes him frightening. Once, he opened up to me and talked, and inside he was completely rotten away. Still, his consciousness is calm. He won’t let uncontrolled rage blind him and ruin things. Isn’t that contradictory?”

Saying that he himself had once been the same, the Sword Saint gave a bitter smile. The pain of losing one’s family, one’s child, was beyond words.

If a clear target for that pain emerged, the pain would turn into rage, and rage would soon become blind killing intent.

Only long stretches of time could wear that down. I could sympathize to some extent, having read those feelings in words myself.

‘If I were to lose Petra, or someone else….’

I doubted I could remain as calm as they were. I’d probably lose my head and try to overturn the entire board. To prevent that, I wanted to protect those around me without fail.

“Well then, let’s enjoy the gathering ourselves for now.”

The Sword Saint stood up and gave my back a light tap. I gave a bitter smile in response and turned back toward the banquet hall.

An hour had already passed since I finished my meeting with the two giants and returned to the banquet hall. In that time, I moved around the hall, making the acquaintance of many people.

Petra had said she wanted to be active in political circles later on, so I firmly held her hand and moved together with her, but I soon realized that had been a major mistake.

“…Don’t make such a scary face.”

Just after finishing greetings with a young Sword Master from some kingdom, I relaxed the tension in my eyes at the poke she gave my side.

Those with some years under their belt spoke calmly even with us right in front of them, but those in the prime of marriageable age completely lost their composure the moment Petra appeared.

Most, after clearing their throats, remembered she was my fiancée and let out regretful sighs, but a few fell head over heels for Petra and couldn’t tear their eyes away.

Each time I encountered one of those types, I lightly stirred killing intent and pressure to snap them back to their senses, memorizing each name in my head one by one.

“…You told me to worry, but now I’m the one getting worried.”

When I muttered my dissatisfaction, she covered her mouth and let out a small laugh, then counted the people we’d met so far on her fingers.

“Is this the last?”

“Yes. The two most important ones are left.”

Duke Genedin of Ferpocia.

Duke Edwin of Narmachi.

Judging by scale alone, they were from nations even smaller than the Kingdom of Demedrio, a vassal state of the Empire, with unimpressive military power that would be swept away the moment a war with the Demonic Realm broke out.

And yet, the two of them—and the many knights under them—never gave up fighting to the very end.

They entered under the Empire, carrying on the will of their fallen nations, eventually reaching the level of heroes, and their disciples were chosen by the Goddess and awakened. Originally, they would have naturally met the protagonist at the Academy and become close comrades, but with Alice’s gender changed, I doubted things would follow the normal route.

‘For now, I’ll just crash into them head-on.’

Each nation had countless ideologies and cultures, but there was one thing they all shared.

Respect for the strong. If I crushed them with overwhelming strength, we’d quickly grow close. And if we then began Academy life together, bringing them over to my side would be child’s play.

That was why I deliberately pushed their turn to the very end. Part of it was to make them wait, but the main reason was that I wanted to devote the most time to them.

“Pleased to meet you.”

Moving slowly with Petra, I eventually stood before the two heroes. They had been watching me as I made the rounds of the hall with Petra at my side, each with their own disciple. Realizing it was finally their turn, they hurried to greet me, only to notice they were getting in each other’s way and frown slightly.

“This late-learning junior greets his seniors.”

I lightly clasped my hands and bowed my head, as if following the etiquette of the martial world. The greater formality, different from how I’d treated others until now, made the two men’s eyes widen and smiles spread across their faces.

“Hmph, I’ve heard much about you, Third Prince.”

“The same here. Ah, my introduction is late. This is Duke Genedin of Ferpocia. I am Duke Edwin of Narmachi.”

They were dukes of their respective nations, while I was an Imperial Prince, but the gap between us was vast. Even as dukes of small nations, being treated on par with counts of decent kingdoms afforded them respectable status—normally far above where they could casually speak with me.

But I nodded with an easygoing smile.

“I’ve heard many stories about you two heroes. Please, speak comfortably.”

“Hem hem, if you say so.”

“Well, if the Third Prince says it’s fine.”

Though their expressions were awkward, they quickly nodded with grins. I smiled softly in return and welcomed them.

“…If I may be so bold, there is something I wish to say.”

At that moment, one of the dukes’ disciples, who had been quiet until now, stepped forward. At his sudden appearance, I turned my gaze with a puzzled expression, so unexpected that I almost forgot his name.

“What is it?”

He looked at me—or more precisely, at Petra beside me—and opened his mouth.

“I am Desia of Ferpocia.”

Then he dropped to one knee and extended his hand.

“I fell in love with the Lady of Leipzig at first sight. If this is not fate, then what is? I beg you, with those delicate hands, would you not take my scarred hand?”

…This bastard?