Kays Translations

Chapter 48: Trap on the Tongue

The kingdom's army had established a position at the border.

A barbarian army is stationed just five kilometers away.

It's not going to start right now, but you can never let your guard down. It's that kind of distance. Neither of them will be able to sleep well because of the tension.

There are about 3,000 royal troops, plus a few hundred horses. They are staked out in a place like this because they are prepared for the barbarians, and they are dripping with gold and food.

……It’s a silly story. If they could stop it, they would want to stop it now. Both the soldiers fighting and the aristocrats paying for it.

Marquis Beowulf Eldenberger, who was looking around the garrison, frowned in displeasure.

If peace is made, the army can be reduced to about a hundred men, if not a complete withdrawal, leaving only guards and a minimum force. What could be done with the money thus saved?

Road maintenance, land reform, construction of new fortified cities. It's really great. At least it is a much better use of money than mass producing insomniac soldiers.

"Lord Beowulf, it's time to go."

The count who had brought me here to guide and hand over said. The reason I came to the border today was to finalize peace talks with the barbarian emissary.

"I would like to ask one thing, but the barbarian king was an old man who was over 70."

"yes"

"Does he get an erection?"

"……Eh?"

The count was somewhat taken aback by the way he spoke too frankly.

"Don't make such a disgusting face. This is politics, diplomacy. It's important that the princess he marries be able to bear children, isn't it?"

"... I heard that the King likes to sleep with naked women lying on either side of him. So that he can absorb their young essence."

"He's got good taste, I'll give him that."

A royal woman's job is to marry into another family. However, he didn't want to arrange a marriage that proved to be unhappy from the start.

Who has the right to destroy the youth of a thirteen-year-old girl? Duty, role, royalty, and all such pretexts are unimportant. I don't like what I don't like.

"Now, let's go."

Beowulf and his men headed to the stables and hopped on their respective horses.

I, a great nobleman, am running in the middle of a battlefield with only a few knights as my escort, where friend and foe are facing each other. If a trap were to be set, there would be no way to stop it.

Come to think of it, wasn't the Count who accompanied me more plump in the past? He seems to have lost about twenty kilograms since the peace talks began.

…… I also want to summarize the story before that happens to me.

A temporary tent came into view. From the way the horses were tied up, it seemed that the messenger from the other side had already arrived.

It would look bad to keep them waiting too long. Beowulf gripped the reins and hurried his horse. With his battle-hardened horsemanship, the count and his knights could barely keep up.

The one who welcomed Beowulf and the others in the tent was a fearless man in his late twenties.

Lightly tanned skin, lean and toned body. I knew at a glance that he was quite skilled in martial arts. Incidentally, his looks are also handsome. Beowulf wanted to punch this guy for no particular reason.

"The Second Prince, Arsames-sama."

The Count whispered to me from behind and told me.

"Is it okay to hit him?"

Of course not! He’s  a prince."

Beowulf and the count on the kingdom's side, and Prince Arsames and his secretary on the barbarian side. And there was another man in the tent who seemed to be a noble from another country.

"Oh, don't worry about me. Think of me as an ugly ornament."

Said the sleepy-faced aristocrat.

It seems that Arsames called him as a witness. If they act in a cowardly manner here, such as taking revenge in the dark or running away with the treasure, it will spread throughout the continent in no time at all. What a troublesome ornament.

"Then, let's check each other's gifts."

Arsames said with a refreshing smile. A woman might get a crush on him, but a man would only be irritated by it. Or is this guy doing it on purpose?

It was Beowulf, who no longer liked what he was dealing with.

"No..."

Beowulf couldn't help but groan when he saw the jewel on the table, the " Eye of the High King". A pink diamond the size of his fist, there was no lie or exaggeration in the Count's words.

What a beautiful and huge jewel. It is truly worthy of being called a supreme treasure. That is why a question came to my mind.

...... is this the kind of thing you'd give up just to have a young co-sleeper?

That will never happen. They are a cut above the rest in this field of gift diplomacy. They must be expecting more than this gem of a marriage.

He intends to thoroughly exploit the princess's position and play the sycophant. Or they may even be looking to regain the jewelry by some means.

After all, the princess should not be handed over. It was Beowulf who renewed his determination.

"We have prepared these items for you."

When Beowulf held out the Demon Wailing Sword, Arsames looked a little surprised. He had shown the gem beforehand and wondered if he could have prepared something comparable to it.

"Can I pull it out here?"

"Go ahead, have it your way."

Arsames' eyes widened in astonishment as he drew the Demon Wailing Sword.

He had never seen a sword shaped like this. It was thin, light, sharp and beautiful.

What is even more interesting is the five ancient characters engraved on it. This is a miraculous piece of work that would only be possible if the sword were of very good workmanship and by a top-notch attendant spell-caster.

"The name of this sword is the Demon Wailing Sword."

“Demon wailing sword…I see, so you call a sword of this shape a katana.”

I want it, Arsames' eyes shone like a boy staring at a toy.

One more push could do it, Beowulf further said.

"The true value of this sword can only be discovered by swinging it. Please enjoy this sword that wails like a demon."

"Then let's go outside."

Arsames, Beowulf and others also slunk out of the tent.

The guards from both sides gathered to see what was going on and to watch what was happening.

Standing in the center of the crowd, Arsames drew the sword and swung it wide.

He has a beautiful stance, with no blurring of his torso. It seems that just because he has a good face, won’t make his muscles not as good as they seem. Beowulf was somewhat uninterested.

Swinging down, the wind howled.

"What is this...?"

Arsames muttered as he compared the sword with his own hand.

The singing of a spirit that is too beautiful to be called a wind noise. The mysterious response of a sword that had cut through the air, not a bare swing. Arsames was trembling with emotion, wondering if this was what it meant to be a great sword.

Arsames invited Beowulf and the others to return to the tent.

The remaining knights looked at each other, but had no idea what had happened. They asked the enemy, but again they could only nod their heads.

"This demon wailing sword is a very fine sword. But..."

Arsames' tone was somewhat lonesome as he said this upon his return.

"Don't you think it's one step inferior to the eye of the high king?"

Even though it was a role, he had to say something that put down such a great sword. That made him sad.

You can't put a score on art. Even so, there is a kind of pressure or aura that can be felt somehow. And if you can't feel it, you can't be a judge of what's important.

Beowulf also felt that the Demon Wailing Sword was slightly outclassed in terms of overall strength. With the witness, it was also difficult to push him off if he was balanced in this way.

But so far, it's within expectations.

"Then let's do this. By the day of the official signing ceremony, we will make the sword in the shape you want. Our craftsmen are as I have just shown you."

"Hmm..."

Arsames was troubled. Although with the condition that the quality is equal to or better than that of the Demon Wailing Sword, the added value of having a special sword made might be balanced with the Eye of the High King.

It's a pity that he couldn't get the princess, but Arsames was also fascinated by the sword and it was irresistible.

"Then, I would like you to make a sword suitable for my king. The demon wailing sowrd was a nice katana, but it was a little too light."

Beowulf nodded silently. That sword was made for the poor Count, and Beowulf afreed with the complaint that it was too light.

The king is tall enough to pierce the sky, and is said to be muscular. He ordered a powerful sword that would shatter anything with a single blow, a concept completely opposite to the Demon Wailing Sword.

"In our country, we consider the king to be the incarnation of the sun."

At Arsames' words, Beowulf clicked his tongue in his mind.

… barbarian. Humans cannot become gods.

Their religious views are too different. It still seems difficult to understand them or get on with them.

"I want you to grant such a king the attributes he deserves. Heaven, that is, the attribute of light. It must not be inferior to the demon wailing sword, so naturally it should be five letters. Is that possible?"

"Leave it to me. I will command my craftsmen to give you the best of the best."

They shook hands, which they did not want to do, and said they would see each other next at the signing ceremony and parted ways.

Here Beowulf made one mistake.

Compared to the four elements of fire, wind, water and earth, the imparting of the light attribute is terribly delicate and difficult. The difficulty of creation has jumped even higher than for the Demon Wailing Sword. It is doubtful whether it is even feasible.

It was absurd to expect Beowulf, a great nobleman, to know all the details of the craftsmen's affairs.

This was the last trap set by Arsames. If we get the best sword, that's good enough. If you can't, you get the princess.

Inside the tent, Arsames gloated. One day I will take everything. Everything, including that sword.

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