Daybreak Volume 4 Chapter 20 – Unpardonable Truth

Pascal sighed as he leaned back into his chair. His hand held a single paper from the heaps of documents and ledgers spread across the huge desk before him.

It was the same table where he had planned out the logistics for the armies of Rhin-Lotharingie at the start of the war. Yet, despite the fact that less than three months had passed between now and then, it felt as though his memories of working late into the night in this very room had come from a lifetime ago.

Back then, the biggest concern on his mind was how he could get his fiancé Sylviane to accept his new familiar Kaede. Yes, his father had recently died in an Imperial ambush. But Weichsel was mobilizing. The alliance was holding firm despite being activated for its first time. And with Sylviane’s father, Geoffroi the Great, at the Empire’s helm, it felt like there was no such thing as a challenge which they could not overcome.

Three months later, the war had changed completely. The relationship between Weichsel and Rhin-Lotharingie had changed. And the bond between Sylviane and Kaede, the two most important women in his life, had certainly changed.

But perhaps most of all, he had changed.

Pascal was no longer merely the future crown prince consort of a neighboring empire. He was no longer a young officer of Weichsel desperate for opportunities to prove himself. In the span of merely three months, he had become a veteran with a near-blind eye and a trembling hand to show for his errors in judgment.

More importantly, he had become the chief military advisor of the hopefully soon-to-be-crowned empress of Rhin-Lotharingie in a time of great power conflicts.

Pascal could feel the burden of responsibility placed on his shoulders like a giant boulder. It was the reason why he joined neither Colonel Hammerstein’s knights who celebrated in the capital’s large taverns, nor the feast arranged by Sylviane in the Castle’s banquet hall for the nobles who aided in her victory.

The Lotharins may have won a battle, even a campaign. But the war was not over, and the conflict was about to further escalate.

It was why, even though the dusk light had long vanished beyond the horizon, Pascal continued to read through a mountain of documents in his crystal-lit office.

This doesn’t make any sense, the young lord thought as he raised a paper bearing seals from both the late General Menno and the imprisoned pretender Gabriel.

As soon as Sylviane’s forces had entered the Oriflamme Citadel in the morning, Pascal had ordered the soldiers to seize and secure all ledgers and documents that they encountered. Some of the men had complained about Weichsel’s ‘obsession with paperwork’. But with the civil war coming to an end and the Caliphate’s holy war to be renewed, Pascal could ill afford the loss of valuable records that detailed the Empire’s resources.

His fear was that some of Gabriel’s men might attempt to destroy important documents in order to conceal their own contributions to the coup. After all, while the Princess had offered amnesty to all soldiers, staffers, and minor commanders who served under Gabriel, the same could not be said for the leaders of his illegal coup whom she intended to bring to justice. And with the difference between ‘minor commanders’ and ‘leaders’ being largely subjective, even a single document that detailed active participation in Gabriel’s schemes could implicate someone in treason.

Thankfully, aside from a few cases — including a Belgae bishop who burnt the correspondence letters from the Holy See — the overwhelming majority of records from Gabriel’s short reign had been found. This included account books of the crown’s finances, ledgers from the recent round of taxation and requisition, tracking records for shipments of raw materials and crucial war supplies, and even inventory lists of weapons and ammunition sent from the Imperium in support of Gabriel’s coup.

The pretender’s short reign had seen plenty of mistakes made. It was inevitable, considering that a third of the ministry staff had outright refused to recognize Gabriel as the new emperor. Dozens of them had been imprisoned beneath the citadel’s sixth tower for weeks. It forced the false emperor to employ new people, amateurs not accustomed to their work, to fill the roles in place of the experienced professionals he removed.

Therefore, it did not surprise Pascal to see that many errors had been made in the management of war production and the transportation of vital supplies. However, what did amaze Pascal was how glaringly obvious some of these mistakes seemed, to the point that they bordered on self-sabotage.

For example, Gabriel had refilled the treasury with new taxes and even tithes expropriated from the Church under his authority as the ‘Defender of the Faith’ during a time of holy war — actions that undoubtedly strained his relations with the nobles, citizenry, and church alike. Yet, for some reason, there were no records showing that he had tried to put any of these funds to good use.

There were no attempts to hire mercenaries, nor offers of gold to buy the loyalty of nobles who pledged to the Princess, not even a bonus paid to soldiers to raise their morale before the decisive battle.

In fact, records showed that Gabriel had not even paid his men since seizing the capital almost two months ago. Had this been Weichsel, the delay of payment by over a month would have been seen as unacceptable incompetence in leadership that would lead to at least three officers being relieved of their command.

“Not that being paid late is rare in Rhin-Lotharingie.” Pascal scowled as he thought of Perceval’s response when he last talked to the healer about the Empire’s recruits. The poor efficiency of the Empire’s military administration was one of the first things he intended to see improved.

Perhaps Gabriel was a miserly type who wanted to save money by paying the soldiers only after the battle. After all, the Empire had no tradition of distributing funds to families of the deceased. It was a foolish policy in Pascal’s view which he was already working to change. How could soldiers fight to their bravest if they also had to worry about who would take care of their loved one back home if they died?

Nevertheless, even such penurious thinking did not justify Gabriel’s inadequate battle preparation.

Lotharin armies had always expended ammunition at a phenomenal rate due to their reliance on archers. Therefore, it was imperative to stockpile as many arrows as possible before a major clash. Yes, Belgae military units did field more polearms and relied less on longbows than other Lotharin regions due to their flat terrain, fewer woodlands, and greater emphasis on industry and urbanization. However, the prisoners and supplies Sylviane’s forces captured from Gabriel’s fortified camp revealed that the pretender’s army had only enough arrows to give each archer forty shots at most.

By comparison, Sylviane’s Lotharin archers had each received four quivers of twenty-four arrows before the Battle of Gwilen river. And even then, the frontline units had begun to run out of ammunition within the first two hours.

This means had Sylviane opted for the worst plan of a frontal assault on Gabriel’s fortifications, we might still have won! Pascal frowned as he reflected on the magnitude of this mistake.

What made it worse was the fact that tracking records showed at least one million arrows were stored in the capital’s harbor warehouses, plus several more millions held in the depots of three downriver towns. These supplies were waiting to be shipped south to the Garona front once the spring arrived. However, it would only require a few barges to be diverted to bring hundreds of thousands of arrows to Gabriel’s army for use.

The document in Pascal’s hand showed exactly that. It was a mandate issued by General Menno to ship supplies and ammunition to his fortified camp. Yet, the order had been rescinded by Gabriel’s own handwriting merely two days before the battle.

Worse yet, the pretender had also moved nearly the entirety of his navy downriver to the Belgae region to escort the necessary supplies he was depriving his army of. This meant that had Sylviane opted to lay siege to Gabriel’s army camp, they could have easily blockaded its shores using the watercraft they found in nearby settlements. This would have cut off the enemy’s supply lines entirely, and the camp only had two weeks worth of food.

Was Gabriel trying to lose? Pascal’s thoughts came in a sarcastic voice as he was baffled by the sheer incompetence of prioritization on display. Or were these orders the forgery of a saboteur in the palace?

Pascal was in all of the intelligence meetings with Sylviane. As far as he knew, they had no such highly-placed asset who could manipulate orders from Gabriel’s leadership. That means either they had an ally inside the palace who never even attempted to make contact with the Princess and her supporters, which seemed unlikely…

Or, the alternative being Gabriel really was this stupid and actively made decisions that would result in his own defeat.

No, there has to be a better reason.

The young Landgrave knew that war propaganda often liked to paint enemies as complete imbeciles to boost one’s own morale. However, as a military professional, Pascal also knew that he should never believe in such. To underestimate the enemy was one of the worst mistakes a commander could make. Those who did not plan for their opponent to take the most optimal action often paid for it with their own defeat.

Pascal considered that Gabriel was a man who carefully planned a coup that caught even an insightful monarch like Geoffroi the Great by surprise. He found it difficult to believe that the pretender could make such glaringly obvious mistakes like this. That meant there had to be a good reason why Gabriel was prioritizing sending ammunition south towards Garona. Perhaps he had heard of something from the Inner Sea front which even Sylviane did not yet know.

“Pascal.”

A soft and wispy voice called out to him before the young man pulled away the paper blocking his gaze. The young lord’s hearing wasn’t what it used to be and he often failed to notice those with quieter footsteps. His familiar was one of those people as she stood just inside the doorway to the large office. Standing next to her was a tall and lean-shouldered man who seemed just past his prime, though his face had a boyish look which reminded Pascal of the late Sir Robert.

“Sir Julien?” Pascal asked as he stared at the man with his uncovered eye.

“Yes,” the royal healer answered in a professional and steadfast tone that almost hid the somber mood that lay beneath.

I wonder if Kaede has already informed him of his son’s death? Pascal thought before he turned to his own familiar:

“Kaede? Should you not have taken him to the feast?”

Pascal had directed her earlier to oversee the release of Gabriel’s political prisoners. He wanted to ensure that the ministry staff who remained loyal to Sylviane were well-treated and provided every amenity they needed after several months of their harrowing stay in the dungeons.

“It was I who asked her to bring me to you, Your Grace,” Julien responded before his voice took on a sarcastic tone. “I’ve spent the past seven weeks sitting beneath a rock being fed. The last thing I need is another feast to increase my bloat.”

Pascal raised an eyebrow. He did hear from Kaede by telepathy several hours ago that all the prisoners were healthy. However, this was the first time he heard of someone complaining of growing fat after being imprisoned.

“The warden told me that Gabriel had given him explicit orders that every prisoner should be ‘well-treated according to their rank and status’,” Kaede then explained before returning a shrug.

“Which meant not only all the food we wanted to eat, but even fine room furnishings and accommodations with our compatriots,” Julien added with a terse laugh as though he could barely believe it himself. “We were even allowed to request books from the royal library. The only thing forbidden was the freedom to roam and communicate with our families.”

What kind of imprisonment is that? Pascal’s thoughts couldn’t decide if he should be more skeptical or baffled.

“But that does not make any sense!” The young lord chose the latter. “You all openly defied Gabriel by insisting that he is an illegitimate ruler! Had I been in his shoes…”

Pascal then trailed off as he realized a bit late that the last part should not be spoken aloud:

I would have at least hanged a few of you as an example.

“You would prefer that he had us all tortured if not killed instead?” Julien replied with a raised eyebrow of his own.

“No! That is not what I meant…” Pascal hurriedly added. “Please do not misunderstand me, Sir Julien. I am happy to see you all safe,” the young lord declared with a face that looked far more troubled than pleased.

“I am merely baffled by these actions from Gabriel which make no sense! It would be far more natural for a ruler whose legitimacy is doubted to make an example as a warning to others who would challenge his right to reign.”

A wry snort came from the healer as he replied with a sardonic scowl:

“You’re not wrong. That’s exactly what several of the ministers who defied Gabriel expected, especially after he spiked His Majesty’s head. Yet instead of being enshrined in Lotharin history as martyrs, they found themselves taking an obligatory underground vacation.”

I swear, you Lotharins trade your lives away too readily, Pascal scowled beneath his frown.

What began as propaganda during their Independence War has since become pervasive in Lotharin culture. It was especially prominent among the nobility, with their love of élan and their desire to be immortalized by posterity.

It also lay in sharp contrast to Weichsel, where stories of how King Ferdinand repelled the Great Heathen Army taught every soldier that it’s always better to live to fight another day. And as such it seemed such a massive waste of manpower and talent to Pascal.

“Why did you defy him then?” He then asked.

“I didn’t. Well, not directly.” Julien answered. “I asked to quit my position as royal healer and join the armies at the front, considering that my charge, the late Emperor, was now deceased. Gabriel accused me of attempting collusion with Sylviane instead and had me arrested.”

Now that sounds like the real Gabriel, Pascal thought as he stared at the physician whom the Emperor considered a personal friend.

I would have done the same.

Nevertheless, this only added more confusion in his thoughts. It was as though Gabriel was a two-faced man who seesawed between the ruthlessness of necessity and naively foolish mercy. His actions sometimes reached the height of brilliance yet other times sank to the depth of stupidity.

His coup on the capital was — Pascal had to admit — a master stroke of tactical infiltration. Yet the way he denied supply to his armies, hoarded his resources, and even kept alive those loyal to his enemies…

It is like he was wagering that Sylviane would win.

“I am sorry, Sir Julien. But whatever it is that you came to see me for, it will have to wait,” Pascal said as he grabbed his walking cane and used its leverage to stand up from his chair.

His familiar Kaede rushed over to give him a hand. However, Pascal brushed her outreached arms aside. After all, he had made significant progress during the time she was away and was no longer so pathetic he needed help to stand.

— Besides, Perceval had told him that he needed more exercise for his leg muscles so he could at least stop walking with a limp.

It still took a bit of effort for Pascal to push the padded chair back and stand up straight in one motion. Nevertheless, his feet were steady this time as he stepped around his desk.

“I came to check up on Your Grace’s health, though it seems like I need not have worried about your physical recovery,” the healer said as he carefully observed Pascal’s movements.

“Nevertheless, Lord Perceval did tell me that you’ve been in a somewhat… turbulent mood,” he added with a tone as though he found this ironic. “And as the husband to the country’s foremost expert on mood disorders, I’d like to observe Your Grace a little, if you don’t mind.”

He is Sir Robert’s father after all, Pascal thought to himself before attempting to put on a smile.

“Very well, Sir Julien. You may accompany me if you wish, though you may not enjoy where I am going,” he stated directly before turning to Kaede. “I believe Gabriel has already been transferred beneath the citadel’s tower?”

“Yes.” Kaede nodded. “General Caradoc’s men brought him in just before dusk.”

“Good,” Pascal replied as he grabbed the scroll that he had puzzled over earlier before moving towards the exit. “Because I need to speak with the man, right now.”

It is about time I get some answers out of him!

 

—– * * * —–

 

The prison beneath the sixth tower had indeed been ‘improved’. The high-security cell that Pascal opened the door into held a luxurious four-poster bed that he recognized as from the palace’s guest rooms. A large carpet, a desk, and four chairs had also been moved down, which seemed to hint that the prisoners had been allowed to visit each other. Only the rough stone walls and the small barred window near the ceiling reminded the occupant that this was still a prison cell.

For Gabriel to benefit from his good treatment of those he imprisoned… this must be what Kaede calls ‘Karma’, the young Landgrave thought.

“Lord Gabriel,” Pascal greeted the inhabitant, who had been sitting on his bed with a book in hand.

“Your Grace,” Gabriel said almost whimsically as he stood up. “I realize that you do not recognize me as emperor. But I’m still owed courtesy befitting a duke.”

A wry smile spread across his handsome face which reminded Pascal that he was dealing with a shameless and consummate politician.

“You are a traitor, and therefore owed no courtesy of any kind,” Pascal declared in a frosty tone as he shifted his walking cane to his left hand and wrapped his right fingers on the handle of his estoc.

“Be glad that I still recognize you as a noble, on account of your undeniable blood relations with the late Emperor — your own brother whom you butchered in cold blood,” his voice darkened and he almost spat out at the end.

“History will indeed remember me as a king and kinslayer,” Gabriel answered with a faint smile as though he was hardly bothered by this. He then rotated the chair by the desk and redirected it towards the door.

“Would you like to sit at least, Your Grace?” Gabriel gestured openly towards another chair by the door as he sat down. “I heard your leg has not been well.”

He is way too nonchalant for a pretender who had just lost his bid for the throne and surely knows that only execution awaits him, Pascal frowned.

Regardless, Gabriel was correct that Pascal’s legs would not keep him standing for long. During yesterday’s battle when Pascal took command of overall coordination, his legs couldn’t even hold him upright for a full hour before he needed to take a break to sit.

Nevertheless, Pascal ignored the offer as he walked over to the bed and leaned against a foot post. To sit down now would imply that this was Gabriel’s domain and that the duke was in control, rather than it being an interrogation led by himself.

“Sir Julien,” the young lord turned around to face the two people who followed him here. “Since you insisted on coming along, may I trust your absolute confidentiality in this matter?”

“As His Late Majesty did in me,” Julien responded with a sincere nod while Kaede took that as cue to close the door.

Meanwhile, Pascal performed a quick scan of the room for scrying sensors before he cast Sanctum Veil over the entire room to prevent being overheard.

“Besides, I would like to know the truth myself, seeing as I lost not only my most important patient, but also my eldest son in this conflict,” Julien’s voice remained professional even as a look of pain passed through his gaze.

“Good, because what I am about to do to this man may not be considered legal,” Pascal said as he finished his spell.

The young lord then sent a contemptuous sneer towards Gabriel as he added over his private telepathy. “<And Kaede, keep your guard up.>”

“<Of course.>”

Pascal did not want to admit it, but in his current physical state, he was not confident of his ability to win a physical struggle if Gabriel suddenly lunged out at him. Kaede may not be much of a melee fighter, but Pascal did replenish her defensive rune set. And he still remembered how badly she beat him during their first morning together with it.

“I shall get straight to the point then, Lord Gabriel,” Pascal began as he pulled out the scroll he had placed into his extradimensional pocket and unraveled it. “Why did you countermand this order by General Menno to ferry supplies and ammunition to your army south of the lake?”

“Isn’t that obvious?” Gabriel replied with a rather patronizing smirk.

“I will be asking the questions here, Lord Gabriel,” Pascal demanded in a harsh tone.

The young lord needed to impress upon his senior just who was in charge here. However, that was rather difficult to do as Gabriel was clearly not afraid of him. Therefore, Pascal cast several spells which effectively glued Gabriel’s manacles to his seat.

The pretender only sighed in return before he began to explain:

“Because thanks to your king’s intervention in our civil conflict, I was forced to fight a two front war. My army had taken most of the supplies from the Belgae territories when we left. It was imperative for me to leverage what shipping I had to send some back so the walled settlements could ready themselves for siege.”

“At the cost of defeat to your main force? Do you seriously expect me to believe that?” Pascal declared as his voice dripped with sarcasm. “I highly doubt that the situation back home was so dire they lacked even the supplies to hold out for a month or two, at which point the contest for the throne would have been decided.”

“That was my logic at the time. Whether or not you believe in it is up to you.” Gabriel returned a disinterested shrug. “I hardly have any reason to hold on to secrets now, seeing as you already have more than sufficient charges to condemn me to death multiple times over.”

“If anything, cooperation may ease the method of your execution,” Pascal pointed out with a severe warning. “As by Lotharin law, those who commit the high treason of rebellion in collusion with foreign powers are to be boiled alive.”

The young man ignored the gasp he heard from his familiar. He could sense over their bond that Kaede felt nothing but revulsion for such inhumane punishment. However, given the severity of the crime, Pascal could not help but feel that it was wholly deserved.

Nevertheless, Gabriel did not look the least bit scared when he responded in a somewhat playful tone:

“I shall endeavor to cooperate then.”

Why do I not believe you? Pascal scowled.

“Then why did you countermand the order instead of diverting at least one or two barges to ferry ammunition to your forces?” He asked again. “Surely that would have still left the majority of shipping available for sending supplies to the Belgae garrisons.”

“But I remember there were already several barges making regular runs to the army’s camp?” Gabriel answered. “Surely they would be enough to transfer arrows even without me pulling shipping from other routes.”

True, we did capture four along the camp’s docks, Pascal considered. However, all of them were used to bring food and fodder from the northern granaries.

Is he just bad at logistics then? Pascal wondered if Gabriel really did misjudge the scale of the supply operation necessary to keep an army of twenty-thousand men fed. After all, for all of his deceptive ingenuity, the duke has never commanded an army deployed into the field before.

“Then can you explain to me your decision to impose new taxes and promote the Church’s schemes to monetize the Holy Father’s forgiveness?” Pascal asked first as he kept his good eye trained on Gabriel’s blue-violet gaze. “Profits which you then appropriated from the Church without use.

“It seemed rather short-sighted to me that you would rush to collect funds when your legitimacy was being openly challenged. And then not use one coin from it, not even to consistently pay your own soldiers!” Pascal’s voice rose at the end as he couldn’t help feeling bothered by such gross mistreatment of troops.

“Surely, Your Grace, you do not need me to explain something so simple?” Gabriel mocked with another patronizing smirk. “War requires money. And since the Caliphate is preparing to launch a new offensive in the spring, I need to restock the Empire’s coffers in preparation. Winter is the best time to collect taxes as most people are staying at home. And those who had misbehaved have more than enough time on their hands to dwell upon their sins.

“Furthermore, had Lord Henri stayed true to the support that his father vowed, it would be Your Grace who is now in chains instead of me,” Gabriel sneered as he at last revealed a bitter tone. “Therefore, why should I spend gold on peasants for a battle that I could have won with ease?”

You truly are a bastard. Pascal’s eye narrowed as he felt nothing but contempt for the man sitting before him.

“I do not believe for one second you are that politically naive,” the Landgrave nevertheless stayed to his line of questioning. “Duke Hugh is a shortsighted man easily enticed by immediate gains. He has no true loyalty or ideology to speak of, and only an idiot will rely upon such an individual — which I do not think you are. It would make much more sense to keep your army in high readiness so you can directly challenge Sylviane without relying on such a perfidious player.”

“I’m glad Your Grace has such a high opinion of me,” Gabriel almost laughed before he shrugged again as his voice grew wry. “But what can I say? I did not believe that my niece had any chance of defeating my forces, especially if my army remained inside their fortifications. And once the Caliphate renews their offensive and the Imperium intervenes — which is only a matter of time — the Empire’s nobility would have no choice but to recognize my authority to prevent an even greater catastrophe.”

That was what we feared as well, Pascal scowled as he was forced to concur.

“I made a mistake yesterday in sallying out, thinking that I had a golden opportunity to sandwich Sylviane’s army between mine and Henri’s,” Gabriel’s lips twisted as he added further. “Perhaps I was too overconfident in hindsight. And by the time I realized, it was already too late to turn back.”

A reasonable tactical error to make, especially for a greedy scumbag who denied pay to his own men, Pascal considered as Gabriel’s answers so far seemed both consistent and logical.

Maybe he really did make a strategic error and I am overestimating him?

However, before Pascal could further re-examine his prior assessment of Gabriel’s actions, Kaede seemed to have noticed his self-doubt and commented over telepathy:

“<He’s lying and trying to conceal something from us.>”

“<Well you are better at reading him than I am,>” Pascal replied. “<Why do you think he’s lying then?>”

“<I don’t know. He is concealing it,>” Kaede repeated. “<But I get the feeling it’s something he’d rather take with him to the grave. And I doubt you can offer anything to pry it out of him.>”

Terrific, Pascal thought as he openly sighed. “<If carrots do not work, then it is time for the bullwhip.>”

“Stop lying to me and wasting my time, Lord Gabriel,” the young lord declared in an impatient voice that was not entirely feigned. “You are someone who was savvy enough to build a coalition against the late Emperor without him realizing it, who was ruthless enough to cut off your own brother’s head and left it to rot on a spike. Do you seriously expect me to believe that you just happened to leave behind a full treasury and all the loyal ministers for Sylv to readily use?”

“Your Grace, I can only speak to the mistakes that I–” Gabriel was still speaking when Pascal pointed the turquoise casting ring on his right hand at the pretender duke.

“Scourge Catalyst.”

A column of aquamarine light formed between the two as Pascal poured his mana directly into Gabriel. An unseen clash immediately began between the two mages as Pascal’s magic directly assaulted the pretender’s body. The Scourge spell forcibly converted mana back into ether by destabilizing the former through brutal force. This also had a side effect of generating excess energy, which ‘excited’ the surrounding molecules like water which was so important to living biology.

Pascal had once explained this spell to Kaede once before, which made his familiar compare it to “being microwaved”.

“You would dare torture the ordained Defender of the Faith!?” All signs of Gabriel’s nonchalance dropped immediately as his countenance twisted in anguish as he snarled in response. “Are you not afraid that the Holy Father…” He paused and clenched his teeth while his hands tightly gripped the arms of his chair to bear the growing pain. “–Would condemn you to hell for this!?”

“I do not know what unholy spirit you believe you speak for, but it is certainly not the Holy Father,” Pascal countered as he intensified his spell.

“<Pascal, this is…>”

“<Be quiet, Kaede.>” Pascal shut her up as he knew what his familiar was going to say. “<I did warn that what I do here will not be legal. But I will do whatever it takes to pry the facts out of this bastard!>”

The young lord thought back to the unconscious form of Sylviane’s body on the floor of the throne room with burns and frostbite spread across her hands and forearms. He had watched for several minutes as the healer Perceval, with Kaede’s help, channeled his spells into Sylviane to repair the damage that had been done.

Perceval had reassuringly guaranteed that there would be no lasting consequences. However, the mere sight of Sylviane’s ghastly self-inflicted wounds left Pascal without a shred of mercy towards the man who caused all of this.

“Nnnnngggh.”

Gabriel’s groans steadily grew as faint wafts of steam began to rise from body. It was especially noticeable from his left arm where Pascal focused the brunt of his spell.

“Either you talk, or I will keep this up all night,” Pascal’s words emerged in a frightfully cold voice as he kept his hard eyes fixed on Gabriel’s tense face. “Until we burn away your mana and I can rip the memories straight out of your repugnant brain.”

The Duke struggled uselessly against the steel restraints that kept his limbs pinned against the chair. Sweat rolled down his brows as his teeth clenched further before they broke into a cry:

“Nnngggaaaaah!”

“You Grace…”

“Pascal!”

Both Julien and Kaede tried to speak up this time, but Pascal immediately interjected with a harsh stare.

“Shut. Up.”

You are only making this take longer! He thought.

Pascal then redirected his stone-cold gaze back to Gabriel. The Duke’s face was contorted with pain as his cries escalated in between gasping breaths. The young lord could feel a pang of sympathy as he kept his spell trained upon his hapless victim. Yet the only thing it took him to harden his resolve was to remember all of the times Sylviane broke down into tears as a result of her uncle’s betrayal.

Be it in the cabin outside Nordkreuz or in her room in Avorica, be it in the aftermath of Glywysing or in the throne room of the Oriflamme Citadel. Pascal had seen and heard about Sylviane breaking down so many times as the Princess lamented over all those whom she had lost. And while not all of those deaths were Gabriel’s fault, his coup was certainly a major reason why their journey back home had cost so much.

“I have full confidence that my mana capacity exceeds yours,” Pascal stated as he intended to crush any resistance that Gabriel had left. “Either you crack, or I will rip apart your mind and see you go to the scaffold tomorrow as a drooling vegetable of a man before being boiled alive. I bet even the Holy Father will appreciate the irony in that.”

“Gahhh! All-right! I yield! AhHHHH! I’ll tell you… what you want!” Gabriel cried out before Pascal finally pulled away his hand and ended the spell.

A minute passed with only the hard breathing of the pretender duke filling the silence in the room. Then, as Pascal pointed his ring and began to ask in a low and threatening voice once more:

“Let us restart with something more straightforward then. Why did you only imprison the loyal ministers who opposed you, despite the fact you were willing to go so far as to spike and mutilate your own brother’s head?”

“B-because the head wasn’t his to begin with.” Gabriel coughed as he blinked his eyes to clear them. “It came from a man who only looked similar to my brother, and I used magic to shape it further until the resemblance was flawless.”

“A fake!?”

Pascal felt stunned as despite hypothesizing many reasons for Gabriel’s peculiar behavior, he had never considered the possibility that his own eyes might betray him.

No. It wasn’t merely his own. The young lord had not forgotten how badly his fiancé burnt herself to send off what she thought were her father’s remains. The fact it had all been a trick only further sullied Sylviane’s pain and suffering.

“Do you know what Sylv went through because of that ‘fake’?” Pascal’s pitch was low and ominous as the cold rancor inside him grew inflamed.

“She almost burnt her arms off trying to cremate it in the Burning Throne’s flames.” His voice steadily rose as he pointed a finger in the direction of the Princess’ bedroom. “Now, either you start telling me the truth, or I will wring it out of your brain after I reduce it to mush!”

“And you think you can handle the truth!? Fine!” Gabriel snarled beneath his tear-glazed eyes as he spat out a hint of blood from his mouth.

“The truth is that I planned this coup with Geoffroi from the very beginning! The truth is that my confrontation with my brother, my betrayal of the Empire during its darkest hour, everything has been a drama staged for all Lotharins to see! And I wanted my goddaughter to win the throne all along!”

“What!?”

Pascal blurted out the single word as his lips fell open. His eyes stared back as though threatening to pop out from their sockets.

The words coming from Gabriel’s mouth seemed completely absurd. A pretender who launched a military coup to depose the ruler, with consent from the ruler? Who would believe in such a farcical tale?

The Landgrave took a stride forward and almost stumbled on his weaker leg. He kept himself upright with his cane until he grabbed Gabriel by the collar and yelled straight into the older man’s face:

“That makes no fucking sense!” Pascal shouted into his face.

“Why would the Emperor consent to be killed like that?” The young lord challenged as he ignored the pestering thought that ‘helping Sylviane’ was exactly what some of Gabriel’s actions seemed to achieve. “Why would he allow–?”

“Because he was dying anyway!” Gabriel interjected with a shout as a pained expression began to fill his angry gaze. “My brother had a malignant tumor growing inside his brain. And healer Julien here told him that the chances of surviving a surgical removal was close to zero and he had only months to live.”

Pascal immediately swiveled around to stare at the healer, to which Julien nodded wryly:

“By my estimate based on its growth, His Majesty had only a month left, three at most, by the time of the palace coup.”

“Why…” Pascal’s lips hung as this was the first time he had heard of this. “Why did he never say anything? Why did he keep it a secret even from Sylviane, his own heir and daughter?” His outraged tone lashed out at the healer.

“Because we only found out about it at the onset of winter last year, the night after Her Highness left for the north to help King Alistair.” Julien closed his eyes as he spoke in a regretful voice.

“His Majesty had been putting off his periodic health check-ups due to a combination of overconfidence and overwork — he had always been physically active and healthy after all, so none of us expected this. By the time we discovered it, it was already too late to contain or safely remove the disease. With not much to be done, the Late Emperor ordered me to keep it a secret as it would only add to the weight on Her Highness’ shoulders during an already troubled time.”

“Geoffroi and I had hoped that the tensions with the Caliphate could be resolved peacefully and that he could pass the crown to Sylviane smoothly,” Gabriel followed. “Both of us knew that if the Tauheed did invade, then the rebellious lords in Belgae whom I had managed for years through words of caution would surely see opportunity. Three of the nobles had independently forged contacts with the Imperium, who pushed everyone towards open revolt.

“I brought this news to my brother after the start of the war,” he continued. “We decided that since civil conflict was no longer avoidable, it would be better that I take control of the insurgency’s leadership instead of letting someone else.”

“How much… did you know about all of this?” A bewildered Pascal asked the healer who didn’t even look the slightest bit surprised by everything Gabriel had just told them.

“I had suspected,” Julien answered. “When we discussed his will, His Majesty told me that whatever Duke Gabriel seemed to be doing on the surface, he was absolutely trustworthy deep beneath.”

The Healer then looked to the pretender: “I also suspected that my knowledge of His Majesty’s illness was the real reason you arrested me.”

“Yes,” Gabriel nodded towards Julien with an apologetic gaze. “The only people who knew about Geoffroi’s illness were himself, myself, you, and Colonel Lindsay of the Highland Guard, who died bravely protecting my brother during the coup. I could not afford to have you tell Her Highness and risk her coming to realization, not when she still had a part to play in our act.”

“An act!? Is that what you call this civil war?” Pascal turned back to breathing down at Gabriel’s face. “An act that killed thousands and turned the Empire upside down!? An act that almost saw Sylv killed multiple times! Why would you do this? Something so disastrous to Rhin-Lotharingie during its hour of need!?”

“To destroy the legitimacy of the Trinitian Church in the eyes of all Lotharins,” Gabriel declared with absolute conviction without the slightest doubt in his gaze.

Pascal stood speechless for a brief moment as he blinked and could only stare blankly in response.

Why would you possibly–-

He then stopped the train of thought as he remembered that unlike Weichsel, the Empire of Rhin-Lotharingie had never felt comfortable with the influence of the Trinitian Church.

This was because due to the practice of Caesaropapism, Pope was technically a vassal of the Imperator Augustus. And the Pope in turn was recognized by every bishop, priest, and monk throughout the Empire as the supreme figure of religious authority in the mortal realm. This left the Lotharins’ former colonial overlord and the Empire’s greatest foe, the Holy Imperium of the Inner Sea, with an indirect means of manipulating the internal affairs of the Lotharin realm.

‘Religious authority is soft power,’ the young lord thought of how his late father once described the problem. Yet even a monarch like Geoffroi cannot force religious change without significant upheaval and unrest.

“There were other reasons, of course,” Gabriel added with a sneer. “The civil war brought all loyalties into the light and allowed Sylviane to discover whom she could trust and which ministers she should remove. It drew out most of the nobles rebellious towards the crown and crushed them in one fell stroke. It gave me the chance to restock the Empire’s coffers with Church gold and taxes levied upon the wealthy while leaving Sylviane free from any blame. And lastly, it solidified Sylviane’s authority to the throne which would strengthen her hand for Empire-spanning reforms.

“I can understand the political reasoning why the Empire wishes to remove the influences of the Holy See,” Pascal stated in a low voice as he struggled with the mixed emotions he felt about this whole scheme. “After all, Emperor Geoffroi has clashed with the Pope over the investiture of priests for decades. But…”

Even if he ignored the insane risks and high costs of this strategy, there was still the ethical angle to confront. After all, Pascal himself was a Trinitian faithful to the Holy Father, even if he wasn’t particularly devout. His own late father might have begun steering Weichsel away from its traditional ‘Papal Appeasement’ policies. But there was a sea of difference between a shift in diplomatic stance and an open attack upon the legitimacy of the Church itself.

“Why would you take things this far?” Pascal asked beneath a puzzled frown. “Once the rebellion became public, you had more than enough evidence of the Imperium’s involvement to begin a purge of their supporters among both the aristocracy and the clergy. You could have ended your facade there without killing your own brother and destroying your own reputation and life!”

“A purge is only a temporary measure. Influence can always be rebuilt as long as an ideology remains,” Gabriel pointed out as he sneered and bared his teeth. “What I wish to destroy is the very foundation of the Trinitian Church in Rhin-Lotharingie — its moral authority. For what is a religion without legitimacy and no one willing to believe in its ‘righteousness’?”

“It would become a cult that fades into obscurity,” a stunned, whispery voice came from Kaede as the familiar seemingly uttered without realizing it.

“That is blasphemy,” Pascal felt offended as he snapped back at Kaede. “The Holy Father is the source of Trinitian moral authority, and he cannot be destroyed.”

“Gods cannot be destroyed, but the people can lose their faith in them,” Julien added in a low voice that nevertheless betrayed his astonishment, as even he seemed awed by the sheer ambition of Geoffroi and Gabriel’s act. “After all, that was what happened to many of the old religions from before the Trinitians came, and His Majesty is a scholar of history himself.”

“False idolatry of mythical heroes,” Pascal scoffed in return. “I will admit that there might be some truth to those stories. But they cannot be compared with the grace of Hyperion as the Holy Father’s true son.”

“And God should not suffer for the stupidity of the priest,” Kaede answered as if in quote. “Religion is but man’s interpretation of divine authority. And from what I’ve seen, the Trinitian Church is not run by angels, but by fallible men whose free will has been guaranteed by the Holy Father himself.”

“As the depravity of the clergy could readily prove,” Julien voiced with a sigh.

Pascal could only scowl in response as he doubted anyone could refute that. Certainly not the Landgrave of Nordkreuz, where even the children on the streets could sing nursery rhymes about the avarice of Weichsel’s Cardinal-Chancellor Lisbeth.

“Precisely,” Gabriel declared with a wry yet scathing grin.

“It is for that reason alone that I have chosen to bear the sin of killing my own beloved brother,” the duke continued as the pain that filled the corner of his eyes transformed into malice and hate. “For through my actions, I have shown all Lotharins that the corruption and rank hypocrisy of the Trinitian Church extends from the lay priests to the Pope himself. That these ‘holy men’ do not care one bit about the peaceful livelihoods of our common citizenry, only the power and wealth they can attain through conflict!”

“And to achieve this, you turned yourself into the most hated figure in Rhin-Lotharingie,” Pascal uttered in barely more than a whisper as he finally came to understand that this was not merely a political objective for Gabriel, but a deeply personal wish.

“Yes,” the duke answered as his resentful eyes blazed with conviction. His jaw stiffened with the grim resolve of someone prepared for martyrdom before he added:

“My wish is for the depravity that I have committed, in the name of the ‘Defender of the Faith’, to forever be associated with that of the Trinitian Church of Holy Arcadia in the memory of all Lotharins!” Gabriel declared as though they were his last words. “For only then may we forever throw off the yoke of Arcadia and the puppet strings of the Inner Sea to truly be free!”

 

—– * * * —–

 

I wonder if it might have been better if I had never found out…

Pascal mulled as walked slowly through the dimly lit and empty corridors of the castle. His familiar paced beside him as she kept her concerned gaze trained upon him. Kaede had offered earlier to help him but Pascal rejected it. However, the young lord wished he hadn’t been so prideful now as his legs were exhausted and close to buckling.

“Sorry, but I need a break,” he admitted at last as he nodded towards a nearby balcony. “Do you mind if we sit over there for a moment?”

“Not at all,” Kaede answered despite the misgivings that Pascal could feel over their familiar bond. She walked over to the doorway and opened it with a shiver from the cold breeze.

“I am sorry, I forgot you are much more sensitive to the cold than myself,” Pascal said. “We can find another…”

“No need,” Kaede smiled as she interjected. “I can just turn up the heat on my undergarments. I know you prefer some fresh air in moments like these.”

Pascal smiled apologetically in response as he walked outside with a slight limp. His right leg still tired much faster than his left — a reminder that the muscles there were newly regrown through Regeneration treatments.

The young lord sat down at a chair that Kaede helpfully pulled out for him. His eyes fell upon a beautiful view of Lake Alise at night with the huge indigo moon reflected over its relatively calm surface.

Yet regardless of the scenery, Pascal couldn’t help but ruminate in his mind over everything Gabriel had said. The interrogation had left him with doubts not only on political matters. It had buried a thorn into the very core of his upbringing and faith.

Yes, the Church had grown power-hungry and corrupt. It was a fact that every well-informed man on the streets could agree with. But to overthrow the Church itself felt like a manifest written by the Devil. The Trinitian Holy Scriptures were not only the basis of society’s cultural and moral standards. They served as the foundation of the social order.

To overturn it would be toppling the very pillars of civilization. Pascal simply could not imagine how the anarchy that ensued could be a force for positive change.

Pascal didn’t know how Sylviane would feel about this. Perhaps she could better explain to him from the perspective of a Trinitian raised in Rhin-Lotharingie. But the bigger problem with her was how the truth completely overturned everything she knew.

Her uncle was not a fiendish villain as they had thought. Her father did not die in a tragic betrayal but in a manner that he himself had planned. The mutilated head that she used all of her resolve to cremate turned out to be some nobody’s…

Could anyone predict how she would react to all of this?

“How in the Holy Father’s name am I supposed to tell Sylviane about her father, her uncle, or any of this!?” The young lord sighed with exasperation as he lowered his head and began to scratch his hair.

“Gabriel is certainly correct that it would hurt Sylviane deeply to see him executed if she knew all this, so I can see why he tried to hide it.” Kaede frowned as she sat down in a chair next to him. “But now that you know, you have to tell her about it.”

“Do I?” Pascal asked as he raised his head and turned to look at the familiar who had become an indispensable advisor to him over the past few months. “Why can I not keep it a secret from her just as her father and uncle did?”

“Because you cannot keep this secret from her for your entire life,” Kaede pointed out. “You’re not a good enough liar to do that, and she will find out at some point that you are hiding something about her family from her. And if she discovers then that you knew before Gabriel’s execution, yet never gave her a chance to do anything about it, it would destroy the trust between the two of you.”

“Do anything about it… if she could do something about it then I would not be hesitating to tell her!” Pascal’s volume rose to an almost cry before he remembered that they were in public.

Both the young lord and his familiar looked around to confirm that there was nobody in sight. He next cast a Sanctum Veil over the two of them before continuing:

“Since we can hardly publicize that the entire civil war had been a carefully staged act, Gabriel must be executed in the manner that the law demands. She knows it as well as I do!”

“Yes. But she can at least talk to her uncle as a family should before his execution,” Kaede countered. “She should at least have the opportunity to hear it from Gabriel directly — why he, why they chose to do all of this.”

“Why…” Pascal scoffed. “For the ‘Defender of the Faith’ to wish destruction upon the Holy Church…” Pascal sighed as he looked up at the ceiling. “The Holy Father must see all this as a preposterous farce.”

“I thought it was ‘the Lord works in mysterious ways’?” Kaede tried to keep her voice serious as she asked, though Pascal could still hear the hint of a whimsical tone.

At least she’s not bringing up that ridiculous deity, he thought back to their conversation on religion on the first night after they met. Though ultimately, even she doesn’t actually believe it.

“I guess there is the possibility that the Holy Father really does agree that the Trinitian Church has become too corrupt and must be torn asunder,” the young lord thought aloud in response.

“I know this cannot be easy for you given your faith as a Trinitian, but I do think it’s important to remember that a religion and the institution formed around it are not the same,” Kaede said. “Gods are the manifestation, or some would say the source, of the moral values that a society aspires to. But a Church is the product of men who wish to impose control upon society by leveraging those values.”

It would certainly explain why there is so much done today in the name of the Trinitian faith which our Lord would not approve, thought Pascal as he remembered one of Geoffroi’s often-used phrases:

‘Would our blessed, merciful savior do thus?’

“If people and nations can improve and grow through upheaval, then I see no reason why religions cannot,” Kaede tried to console him. “A reformation of the Trinitian faith may actually be good for its long term prospects. It was certainly the case for several religions in my world.”

“The Boda-ism that you once spoke of?” Pascal turned to ask.

“No. Christianity,” Kaede answered. “There’s also Islam which uh, developed certain problems because they haven’t had a reformation in too long. Though that might just be me oversimplifying things.”

“‘Simple’ is something I could use more of right now,” Pascal sighed one last time as he rubbed his temple. He then stood up from his chair and dismissed his spell before walking towards the door.

“Let us get this over with then.”

“Wait, now?” Kaede said as she rushed over to help him open and hold the door. “Her Highness is still resting after the sleeping aids that Perceval gave her. We should at least wait until tomorrow morning.”

“Good point,” Pascal sighed as he thought back to the argument they had the previous night. “Let us hope then that Sylviane will be in a better mood in the morning, and that I can at least fall asleep before then for an hour or two.”

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