I Became the Patron of Villains (Novel) - Chapter 23 - Grand Temple Assembly (3)

Chapter 23 – Grand Temple Assembly (3)

===================

Translated by Jinmu

Read it only at Novelbyu.com & Utoon.net

===================

The frozen north.

A place so cold that it seemed no living thing should be able to survive there.

A land painted only in cursed shades of gray by the endless assault of frigid winds.

A man lay collapsed there.

Where his right arm should have been, there was only a crimson blood-flower pattern.

And where his left eye should have been, there was only emptiness.

He was Klkan, one of the eight barbarian chieftains, lying there after being defeated by the cowardly knights of Caliburn and waiting for death.

Yet even as he died, his eyes still burned with vivid rage.

Honorless dogs.

He was not furious because he had lost.

Among the barbarians, who revered battle above all else, death in combat was a glory.

What enraged him was that he had not been killed honorably.

A knight had proposed a duel and then ambushed him through trickery.

“Cough.”

Klkan spat blood.

The gray world dimmed regardless of his anger.

His hearing dulled regardless of his grief.

His consciousness sank below the surface regardless of his despair.

And just as everything was about to return to perfect nothingness.

Ah, Ultultus…

Klkan called upon the name of the great god.

In that instant.

Something stopped.

His darkened vision returned to light.

The brutal northern wind reached his ears again.

The mind that had been slipping beneath the surface slowly rose.

And then:

[Child of my blood.]

[Call my name.]

[Call my great name.]

[Call the name]

[you once worshiped.]

[And I shall grant your desire.]

Following that great guidance, like a command pressed directly into his soul, Klkan murmured as if entranced.

“Ultultus…”

And the thing that had become an Outer God smiled.

* * *

A little later, after hearing something that might as well have been titled Somehow I Became Asteria’s Hidden Power, Alon slowly closed his mouth and resumed chewing.

But the sweetness he had been enjoying moments before was completely gone.

What kind of absurd nonsense is this?

Questions flickered through his mind and vanished one after another.

He could not understand in the slightest how a rumor like that had even started.

If he had been close with Duke Altia, who was supposedly forming a new faction, or with Count Xenonia, then perhaps he could have understood it.

The problem was that he had never actually built a relationship with either of them.

His only encounter with Duke Altia had been at a ball back when she was still a young lady.

And though he had met Lady Xenonia once, he had never met Count Xenonia at all.

The rumor had no foundation.

After some thought, Alon concluded that the man whispering so secretly to the other noble was simply peddling a ridiculous baseless rumor.

A rumor at least needed some visible connection behind it to feel plausible.

In this case, there was not even that.

So by the time he picked up one of the cookies placed beside the egg tart.

“Count Palladio.”

“?”

He turned toward the voice and saw a man in expensive clothing staring at him with open mockery plastered all over his face.

Who is this now?

Alon gave him a brief look.

The man wore one side of his curling hair long, and his whole appearance suggested a personality twisted in a way quite unlike House Palladio’s. Beyond that, Alon knew nothing about him.

There was no information on him in memory.

“Ah, my mistake. I haven’t introduced myself. I am Kamain, third son of Duke Komalon of Ashtalon.”

Realizing Alon did not recognize him, the man hesitated for a fraction of a second before introducing himself. Alon briefly wondered about him and then nodded.

He had heard that foreign nobles occasionally attended the Grand Temple Assembly, where most of Asteria’s major aristocrats gathered.

“Count Palladio,” Alon replied.

“I’ve heard your name often enough. They say you became count through nothing but luck.”

“…?”

Alon blinked.

He had already guessed from the man’s face that this was not going to be a pleasant conversation.

He simply had not expected him to begin insulting people so quickly and so stupidly.

Just as Alon stood there staring in mild disbelief.

“And what, exactly, do you mean by that?”

A second voice cut in.

Alon turned and, unlike the man in front of him, immediately recognized the newcomer.

Marquis Mardanio?

He did not identify him from his face alone so much as from the crest at his chest and the unmistakable bearing of a middle-aged power broker.

“Are you insulting a noble of Asteria?”

“…?”

At the sudden appearance of a shield over his head, Alon could only stare in confusion.

* * *

Kamain, third son of Duke Komalon of Ashtalon, was having a very bad day.

There were several reasons, but the largest was that the marriage talks between him and Duke Rotegre’s fifth daughter, one of the main reasons he had bothered coming here, were not going well.

Of course, the failure of those talks was entirely Kamain’s own fault.

In front of the duke’s fifth daughter, he had done something so absurd it would have been hard to parody. He had openly rated the looks of other young noblewomen.

But as one would expect from a brat who had always been indulged, Kamain had not admitted fault. Instead, he had become extremely offended when the young lady said the arrangement might need to be reconsidered.

If this had not been Asteria, their ally, or if Duke Rotegre had not maintained extensive and highly secret dealings with Duke Komalon behind the scenes, Kamain would probably have overturned the place already.

Of course, Kamain himself seemed completely unaware that Rotegre was only overlooking his conduct because of those hidden ties.

In any case, while in this foul mood, he had come to the ballroom to blow off steam and spotted Count Palladio.

There was only one reason he picked a fight.

He wanted something to vent his frustration on.

There were plenty of servants and knights around him whom he could safely ignore or mistreat, but Kamain did not particularly enjoy toying with them.

Not because he was a decent man.

Rather, because there was no entertainment in playing with toys he could break as he pleased.

That was what non-nobles were to him.

And from that point of view, Count Palladio was the perfect target.

According to the rumors Kamain knew, Count Palladio was just a spoiled fool who had become count through luck, with no meaningful noble allies.

Even as a brat, Kamain understood that he was outside his own kingdom. So in his own supposedly careful way, he had chosen someone he believed he could strike without consequence.

That was why he provoked Alon the moment he saw him.

And yet:

“Do you realize how deeply discourteous it is to insult a noble of Asteria?”

“No, that isn’t…”

“Ashtalon has been our ally for a long time. But that alliance rests on mutual respect. Has Ashtalon now lost its respect for us?”

“No, that is not what I meant…”

“Then does Duke Komalon regard Asteria with contempt?”

“Absolutely not…”

“Then why are you addressing a count so casually without proper respect?”

“Th-that…”

Kamain looked utterly lost.

Contrary to everything he had heard, the moment he picked a fight with Count Palladio, nobles began appearing from every direction to tear into him.

So in bewilderment, he looked toward Alon.

But Alon himself, behind his usual blank face, was watching the scene with a dazed mixture of confusion and disbelief.

What is this situation?

He looked at the three nobles defending him.

One was Marquis Mardanio.

One was Duke Rotegre.

One was Count Palan.

Alon recognized all three with ease, partly because of their crests, but mostly because of their standing.

Marquis Mardanio was one of the leading figures of the royalist faction.

Duke Rotegre was, conversely, one of the major figures among the aristocratic faction.

And Count Palan, though politically neutral on the surface, had amassed enormous influence by maintaining that neutrality.

Even Alon, who had no interest in noble politics, could not fail to know who they were.

“Then are we to understand that Duke Komalon truly thinks so little of us?”

“No, that is not…”

“Then why did you say such a thing to Count Palladio?”

“I… behaved discourteously.”

“Discourtesy is not the issue. The issue is why you spoke to Count Palladio with that sort of contempt.”

As he watched the nobles corner Kamain with lines that sounded exactly like something he had heard somewhere before, Alon paused and then suddenly remembered where.

“I’m sorry.”

“Does saying sorry finish your military service?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I asked whether saying sorry finishes your military service.”

Ah.

That.

The memory that flashed through his mind was over ten years old and still painfully vivid. Alon felt a bead of cold sweat slide down his back.

Soon after:

“I… I behaved improperly…!”

At last, unable to withstand the nobles’ relentless pressure, Kamain fled the ballroom as though escaping a battlefield.

And the moment he disappeared, the nobles surrounded Alon as if they had all been waiting for the chance.

“Count Palladio, are you all right?”

“I am well enough, but…”

Why are you all treating me like this?

That was the thought in his mind as he looked at the three nobles.

But then:

“Would you look at that. Those gentlemen must already have heard the rumor as well.”

“So it was true after all. If men of that stature are moving, the rumor must have substance.”

“If Duke Altia and Count Xenonia involve themselves in politics directly, they would be overwhelming. More importantly, look around. The others are still confused. Keep this to yourself. It is still a secret rumor.”

“…Where exactly are you picking up these things?”

“One develops methods.”

Because his hearing was still enhanced by mana, Alon could also hear the whispers being exchanged elsewhere in the ballroom. At last, he grasped, at least vaguely, what had caused all this.

For a moment he could only stare in disbelief.

But then Marquis Mardanio began speaking to him with a hearty laugh, as if he understood everything, and the other two followed suit, casually acting as if they were already close.

Alon seriously considered telling them that the rumor was false.

The potential for the situation to become unnecessarily complicated later was far too high.

But if he said so now, the atmosphere itself would turn extremely awkward. While he was still trying to decide what to do.

“Come to think of it, Count, I heard that you are studying magic. Is that true?”

“More or less.”

“Then allow me to offer a small gift. After clearing out an orc group recently, I acquired an artifact that can store mana for later use. Would you like it?”

“Now that you mention it, I also prepared a gift…”

Alon fell silent.

That day, he ended up receiving two magical artifacts and five mana recovery potions from the three nobles.

And while most of the ballroom looked bewildered as powerful men gathered around Alon out of nowhere.

We picked the wrong target.

This is really bad.

Count Craild and Count Edoron shut their eyes tightly with expressions full of despair.

* * *

Four days after the banquet began, when Alon’s collection of spoils had somehow grown yet again.

“…An Outer God descended in the north?”

“Yes. That’s the report we received. The guild says the violet crystals were connected to that Outer God too, though they cannot explain them precisely. Apparently the only records are in ancient texts.”

“…”

“In any case, Caliburn is in chaos because of it.”

Hearing the information Evan had brought from the guild with only two days left in the festivities, Alon thought for a moment.

Then:

“Evan.”

“Yes.”

“Once the banquet is over and we finish what needs to be done, we leave for Caliburn immediately.”

He made the decision without hesitation.