Chapter 160.

Late at Night

Meetings within the Tribal Alliance were, in truth, something that took place quite frequently.

As could be understood from the very meaning of the word ‘Alliance’, the basic unit forming the collective itself, each tribe scattered across the Great Plains in a fragmented structure communicated with one another on equal footing through their respective chieftains.

Since even the chieftains themselves were chosen by vote within each tribe, perhaps it could be said to be closer to a more democratic structure. If Aiden had seen it, he might have thought that despite their perception as the most primitive of peoples, they possessed a surprisingly radical political system.

And with such a structure, as was always the case, there was bound to be at least one person who mulled over the loopholes of that democratic system.

In this gathering, it was clear that ‘Dragon Hunter’ Dunadan Uzal was taking on that role.

“Shouldn’t we expel all the outsiders?”

…The problem was that the man spouting such insane nonsense right now was also a chieftain just like him, and thus possessed the same level of authority to speak.

Although it seemed that most of the other chieftains were holding similar opinions, judging by the way they all appeared to be struck with simultaneous headaches, the real issue was that there were not absolutely none who agreed with that lunatic remark.

“……When you say outsiders, what exactly are you referring to?”

Dunadan Uzal politely directed the question at the madman for the time being.

Though he did have the name Saladin Ha’tan, I had absolutely no desire to call him by his name.

He was someone who, by default, did not get along with several chieftains including Dunadan. If there was any disgrace to be found in one another, it was the sort of relationship where each would laugh louder than anyone else.

True to that relationship, the gaze that flew toward Dunadan after he threw out that question was filled almost entirely with contempt.

“…….”

Dunadan quietly suppressed his anger.

This was a public setting, after all. It was not as if I could simply lift a chair and smash it over his head here and now.

Though the urge to do exactly that was overflowing throughout my entire body.

“Surely I am referring to the mongrels within the Plains whose blood is not composed solely of that of pure-blooded warriors?”

“…….”

“The Harvest Festival is approaching. With the Alliance’s greatest crisis ahead, can we truly leave those who are impure within the Great Plains?”

The thick veins rising and twitching along my hand were urging me to grab a chair at once, but Dunadan suppressed the voice in his head with superhuman willpower and continued speaking.

“……More than half of the Great Plains will be people who have had at least some slight contact with outsiders. That would include the chieftains sitting here as well. Are you telling us to hear this?”

“Yes.”

A far more intense internal bloodbath between competing voices continued for quite some time, consuming far more willpower than before.

…Setting aside, for the moment, whether the logic itself was right or wrong.

In short, he was saying that only the quasi-aristocrats who had been squabbling and fighting among themselves all this time—the so-called ‘pure-bloods’—should remain in the Great Plains, and that all the rest should be pushed out.

Of course, doing that would cause the entire nation to collapse, so it would be impossible to expel everyone. They likely did not truly expect that either.

In reality, it was a remark meant to keep in check all the chieftains sitting here who were not pure-bloods.

To put it simply, it was picking a fight. The leadership of the Great Plains belongs to us, the pure-blood faction. Those without legitimate lineage should crawl on their own…

It was that kind of battle of nerves. One that continued every time a meeting was held.

However, the problem was this.

Unlike usual, today’s battle of nerves felt as though the other side was being a little more serious.

“I heard that someone recently entered from the Empire as well. Let us be honest. Why must we even accept such a person?”

“…….”

“Shouldn’t outsiders who know nothing of our traditions or cultural etiquette at least be barred from entry during the Harvest Festival? Hmm?”

At those words, Dunadan’s face twisted slightly.

Certainly, the significance that the Harvest Festival held within the Alliance was beyond imagination.

The succession ceremony that had recently taken place in the Holy Crown Kingdom had at least been an event limited to royalty, but the Harvest Festival was a ‘crisis situation’ that the entire nation had to confront together.

In many ways, anyone could agree that merely having outsiders present could have adverse effects.

To overcome the Harvest Festival, which came once every several decades, flawless cooperation and coordinated ability were absolutely essential.

The warriors of the Tribal Alliance, who had spent most of their lives in training and had cultivated such abilities to the level of near instinct, were one thing—but for other people, merely remaining within the Alliance during the Harvest Festival could itself become a nuisance.

In other words, to put it bluntly.

Given the nature of the Harvest Festival, anyone who had not properly studied it would inevitably become baggage.

Geographically, the Tribal Alliance was located closest in physical proximity to the Void Zone where the Demon God was sealed.

Even the Northern Grand Ducal House of the Empire, who lived constantly brushing against demonic beasts, would be appalled—monstrous creatures and abominations beyond imagination appeared as a matter of daily routine.

And the Harvest Festival was an event in which crises erupted that rendered even those ordinary monsters insignificant.

…There were many that, despite clearly being living beings, could just as well be classified as ‘demons’ or ‘evil spirits’.

So for now, Saladin’s argument itself was valid. For now, at least.

But there was also a reason Dunadan wore an unconvinced expression.

‘……It feels like they’re treating the very alliance with the Empire as a taboo?’

It felt as though, having seized an opportunity, he was trying to lump together Dunadan and the other chieftains of similar disposition who maintained friendly relations with the Empire, and criticize them all at once.

As if, should any problem arise during the Harvest Festival because of them, they would simply shift all the blame onto that side.

“…….”

Logically speaking, Dunadan had no reason to concern himself with such a flimsy attempt at checking him.

The problem was that he was currently in a position where he had to pay attention to the imperial figure Saladin had just mentioned.

Because the one who had brought that very person—Aiden Kellermain—and the others into the Alliance during this period was none other than his daughter.

Of course, even aside from the fact that she was his daughter, Rania had clearly explained the reason Aiden Kellermain needed to remain within the Alliance for now.

It had been in a very priestess-like manner, however.

* We have to keep him with us.

* Is there a reason, my daughter?

* If not, the Alliance will fall.

* ……What?

* It’ll really fall. There’s no other way to explain it.

…Those who viewed the world through the gaze of divinity sometimes had a talent for uttering wisdom that sounded like nonsense to ordinary people.

Still, I knew that no matter how much I asked, I would not receive a proper explanation, so I did not press further.

As the father of twin priestesses, I knew very well that they loathed revealing a ‘divine oracle’ more than death.

So just as I was about to rebut him and tell him to stop spouting nonsense—

“Let’s leave it for now, Saladin.”

A voice cut in.

“I, too, have an interest in that matter.”

The tense atmosphere within the chamber, which had been on the verge of turning hostile thanks to Saladin’s string of provocative remarks, seemed to settle instantly at those few words.

And for good reason.

At the regular chieftains’ council, everyone possessed equal speaking rights—but there was one single exception.

The Great Chieftain seated at the head.

The leader whom the entire Alliance acknowledged as the wisest, the most valiant, and the most seasoned of warriors.

“…….”

His sturdy frame, draped in the hide of a beast, radiated a pressure so immense that even as a fellow chieftain I could not help but feel a sense of fear.

He always wore a mask, so no one knew what expression he bore—but there were a few things everyone knew.

That he was a warrior capable of dominating the entirety of the Great Plains.

And that, unless absolutely necessary, he would remain silent throughout the chieftains’ council, merely reviewing the proposals brought forth by the others.

And that no one had ever seen the Great Chieftain’s face.

Thus, the very fact that such a Great Chieftain was speaking up like this was proof that the situation was unusual.

“Before the Harvest Festival begins, I will personally test that outsider.”

…If words like that were spoken, it was all the more so.

The eyes of every chieftain attending the council widened at once.

▣

Meanwhile.

Aiden Kellermain, the hot potato of the Tribal Alliance who had even drawn the Great Chieftain’s attention, was currently drenched in sweat from head to toe as though he had just stepped into a sauna.

It was not as if I had done any intense exercise.

I was just nervous.

It was such a violent reaction that even I had not known mere tension could produce something like this.

Still, I soon thought that perhaps this was actually a perfectly natural response.

After all.

If, past midnight and approaching dawn, Noel stood in front of my door holding a bottle of wine, her face flushed red with drink, wouldn’t this kind of reaction be understandable?

“…….”

“…….”

Hic.

The small sound Noel let out dropped into the silent corridor with a soft patter.

“……What brings you here?”

Uh.

Wait.

The moment I saw her, a chill ran down my spine, enough to make me feel a sense of crisis.

So when I spoke, my voice inevitably trembled like a quaking aspen.

In all the times I had met this person, had she ever once shown such a disheveled appearance?

There had been one time, long ago.

I remembered seeing her drink herself into a stupor because of the trauma from the Allied War, but back then I had been the one to seek her out.

Like this—on her own, by her own will—she had never shown me such a drunken state before.

That alone proved how much she had always been mindful of her conduct in front of me.

“…….”

Which naturally led to the question.

Just what had she come here to do, at this hour of the night, in such a state?

‘……What the hell is this……?!’

Unfortunately, the problem was that, as far as I could recall, I had done almost nothing recently that would earn Noel’s favor.

If anything, I knew very well that even if she slapped me across the face right here and told me to get a grip, I would hardly have grounds to protest.

“……I have something to say.”

Of all things, she said she had something to say—that was why she had come.

…Though her gaze was unfocused from the alcohol, her eyes were still sharp enough to feel as if they were firing lasers.

“Would you like to come inside first?”

Even as cold sweat poured down me, I managed to answer like that.

“Yes, let’s talk inside.”

Noel continued, her eyes half-lidded as she hiccupped softly.

“This time, I’m going to settle it for good. With you.”

“…….”

I did not know for sure.

…but it was certainly not the kind of approach one took to chat about the weather or food.