Enrique, or the man who called himself Twenty-one, had already finished preparations for the group to pass through the Carthago checkpoint.

He had hidden a small cart in the bushes a short distance from the rendezvous point, filled with various trade goods and provisions commonly carried by merchants. There were even clothes for the group to change into and official identity tags issued from Asein.

And eerily, in one corner of the cart, there was a coffin.

While Aslan and old man Max were hurriedly changing clothes, Twenty-one silently gestured towards the coffin, looking at Bart who was standing blankly.

“…Are you saying that’s my spot?”

“Then did you think you could normally pass through the checkpoint with the mark of a devil worshipper, Your Majesty?”

If you have a complaint, just say it. Why are you and Justin acting like this lately?

You’re good at playing dead, aren’t you? Just hold your breath for a few hours.

The two bickered for a while, but in the end, Bart surrendered to Twenty-one, who was gritting his teeth and saying, “If only you had given me more time to prepare, how much better would it have been?”

Clop, clop. Twenty-one, who had somehow attached a stylish mustache and donned the distinctive beret of Asein merchants, began driving the cart.

Aslan and old man Max comfortably sat in the cart’s cargo compartment, taking out dried fruits and seasoned jerky from sacks to eat, relieving the fatigue from the long forced march.

Only Bart, who was sitting silently hunched over in the open coffin, was gloomy, but otherwise, the journey continued peacefully for a while.

The unexpected change occurred when they were almost at the Carthago checkpoint.

“…Something is wrong, Enrique.”

Bart, who had been sitting quietly for a while, suddenly spoke up.

He was still staring blankly into the air with his chin resting on his knees, and Aslan, noticing that strange luster in his eyes, tensely stood up.

Twenty-one also seemed to sense something was off, as he stopped the cart without even correcting Bart to call him Twenty-one this time.

“Turn the cart around.”

Twenty-one’s eyebrows slightly raised.

“We’ll run into the pursuit team.”

“They likely won’t be too suspicious of us heading in the opposite direction. It would be best to turn back and take the highway leading directly to the Asein checkpoint.”

“…”

At his words, the group fell silent for a while. If they followed his suggestion, it meant going back along the thoroughfare almost to the vicinity of the slash-and-burn village. It would take a full day.

The Carthago checkpoint was just over that hill. After coming this far…

“The destination is right in front of us, Your Majesty.”

However, Bart dismissed his opinion with a single word.

“I have a bad feeling.”

“…”

Twenty-one chewed his lip for a moment, then promptly turned the horses and entered a forest path beside the thoroughfare. It seemed he was going to take a slight detour as it was difficult to turn directly on the narrow thoroughfare.

“No, what the hell is…”

Old man Max tried to say something, not understanding the situation, but Aslan quickly dissuaded him. Based on his experiences so far, he thought Bart wouldn’t do this for no reason.

They soon emerged from the bumpy forest path and returned to the thoroughfare once more. They had begun retracing the exact path they came from.

And not long after, the group encountered a group of men urgently riding horses towards them from a distance. It was the pursuit team from the slash-and-burn village.

Although they had considered the possibility of them riding along the thoroughfare all night, Aslan hadn’t expected the pursuit team to catch up this quickly, causing his heart to sink. Aslan and old man Max quickly pretended to be asleep and pulled their hats down low. Their throats instantly went dry.

The pursuit team consisted of seven men, and their haste was evident. As they passed by the group’s cart, the man at the forefront glanced back at the cart for a moment.

However, it seemed he never imagined they would be in a merchant cart loaded with provisions, driven by an unfamiliar coachman, coming from the opposite direction. They quickly turned their eyes away from the cart and urged their horses towards the checkpoint.

Clop, clop. The pursuit team rapidly disappeared into the distance.

Phew. Aslan exhaled the breath he had been holding only after the pursuit team completely vanished from sight. The tension that had frozen his blood slowly dissipated.

Old man Max whispered.

“That was Rodrigo just now, wasn’t it?”

Aslan nodded. It could be a coincidence, but somehow, it strangely bothered him that the one who had started the rumors about the Asein subjugation force was the one leading the pursuit team.

“Enrique.”

Bart, who hadn’t even hidden in the coffin, probably guessing the pursuit team wouldn’t closely inspect the cart, commanded Twenty-one while still gazing at something.

“Hide the cart and go observe the movements of the pursuit team.”

Twenty-one silently turned the direction and drove the cart into the bushes by the roadside. As soon as they seemed sufficiently far from the thoroughfare, he stopped the cart and instantly disappeared from the driver’s seat.

Just as he appeared, his movements when disappearing were truly ghostly.

“Um, Bart… Your Majesty?”

Aslan hesitated after observing the situation for a while, then called out to Bart. It was the first time he directly addressed him since Twenty-one had appeared, so he was somewhat nervous. It didn’t matter when he didn’t know, but now that he was aware the other party wasn’t of ordinary status, he couldn’t help but be cautious.

Bart quietly turned his head towards him, and his usual cold face didn’t seem particularly displeased. Aslan felt a bit relieved and asked him.

“I wanted to ask since yesterday, but there was no time. Is Asein really sending a subjugation force? How did you know they were coming?”

Judging from the conversation with Twenty-one, Bart had clearly come here with some purpose, but it didn’t seem like he had infiltrated with prior knowledge of the situation in the slash-and-burn village from the beginning. He nodded and readily answered.

“I occasionally felt watchful gazes from deep in the mountains. They were probably professional trackers skilled at concealing their traces, so the search party from the slash-and-burn village likely didn’t detect them. Yesterday, several military carrier pigeons flew up from the base of the mountain. It was obvious that military action was imminent. Since that area was not originally a combat zone with Carthago, if they were gathering troops, there could only be one purpose, couldn’t there?”

“Military carrier pigeons…”

Aslan hadn’t noticed at all. When had he been watching for such things?

“If not for the various chaotic situations like yesterday, someone in the slash-and-burn village would have quickly noticed.”

Indeed, with the spy commotion and Martha’s death, the entire village had been in disarray yesterday.

But from the base of the mountain?

“Could it be Flandor’s subjugation force?”

Weren’t Jerome and Flandor’s guards in cahoots with each other? Why would they attack the slash-and-burn village from there?

If that were true, why did rumors about Asein’s subjugation force and spies suddenly circulate?

However, Bart slightly tilted his head and replied in a nonchalant tone.

“Flandor seems to be the only place capable of organizing a subjugation force.”

“Most of the targets raided so far have been Asein’s caravans, so why Flandor…”

“It’s simple. If you know the character of that wicked old man, the Grand Duke of Asein, you can easily guess.”

His explanation was roughly as follows: The reason the Grand Duke of Asein had quietly allowed the caravans to be raided for a long time was that he was waiting for the damage to accumulate to a point where he could demand a sufficient amount of compensation, wasn’t it? Since they couldn’t sever trade with Asein, it was a matter of Flandor judging when the expected future compensation would exceed the immediate cost of organizing a subjugation force.

Receive most of the compensation instead of the caravans, and have someone else handle the costly bandit subjugation. Package this as a diplomatic achievement and collect more money from the caravans.

What was that, a complete thief, wasn’t it?

“…”

Aslan, who almost blurted out “thief” aloud, quietly closed his mouth.

He still had many questions, but he couldn’t thoughtlessly ask.

Why did you come to this slash-and-burn village? What were those incomprehensible words you said to Kaien yesterday? Why are you going through the trouble of taking me and old man Max with you?

He was gradually grasping the identity of this suspicious Majesty.

The ingrained dignity and natural condescension. Someone who could bluntly call that Grand Duke of Asein a wicked old man. Someone with unprecedented, immense sacred power never seen before.

Above all, there was only one person on this continent who could be addressed as “Your Majesty.”

It was a considerable time later when Twenty-one returned to the cart. Because his usually blunt expression had turned quite serious, Aslan sensed that something unusual had happened.

“The bandit gang was in collusion with Carthago.”

His Majesty Bart listened to the report without much agitation. Only Aslan and old man Max were utterly shocked. As they looked at Twenty-one with wide eyes, he continued speaking with a solemn face.

“I couldn’t confirm whether the entire bandit gang was involved or only a portion of them. However, the man at the forefront of the pursuit team seemed to have been in contact with them for quite some time. It appeared he had already passed information about Your Majesty’s group through carrier pigeons early on.”

It was Rodrigo.

Aslan suddenly felt a chill run down his spine.

Old man Max muttered beside him in a hoarse voice.

“Then if we had gone straight to the checkpoint…”

He couldn’t finish his sentence, but everyone could guess the outcome.

In all likelihood, they would have been summarily executed on the spot. Just like the slash-and-burn villager family killed in Flandor last year.

Twenty-one quickly knelt in front of the coffin and bowed his head.

“Our investigation was inadequate. This is the guild’s mistake. I apologize, Your Majesty.”

“You simply didn’t have time to investigate. I am well aware of the guild’s usual efforts. If not for that child’s situation, would the guild have had reason to come to the western mountain range?”

“However…”

“I had already somewhat anticipated that the Viscount of Carthago was behind this. Don’t worry too much.”

His Majesty Bart displayed great dignity and generosity, nodding his head and disregarding that small oversight that could have potentially endangered his life.

Of course, he was still sitting hunched over in the coffin.

Afterwards, they hurriedly drove the cart. Although the pursuit team had passed by once, if the group didn’t arrive at the Carthago checkpoint, they would eventually become suspicious of the cart they had encountered.

They took minimal breaks to avoid tiring the horses, but until they entered the highway, they intended to distance themselves from the pursuit team as much as possible.

“Um… I can’t bear the curiosity. Who exactly is that gentleman?”

Old man Max, who had been taking turns driving the cart with Twenty-one, slyly asked him. Twenty-one glanced back at His Majesty Bart, but he had his head half-buried in his knees with his eyes closed.

After hesitating to answer for a moment, Twenty-one finally shrugged and opened his mouth.

“Well, I guess it doesn’t matter. You two are already under close supervision by the guild for being too deeply involved in His Majesty’s affairs. I trust you won’t carelessly run your mouths anywhere.”

Aslan and old man Max perked up their ears and focused on Twenty-one’s voice.

“That person is His Majesty Nathaniel, the highest authority of Delcrois and the most magnificent monarch of the continent. From now on, there must not be the slightest lacking in how you treat him.”

The old man gaped.

His Majesty… what? That gentleman with shackles bearing the mark of a devil worshipper?

“No, then what about that mark…”

Even Aslan, who had guessed his identity to some extent, was curious about that. How could the mark of a cursed devil worshipper be on the back of the most noble priest on the continent, His Majesty the Holy Emperor?

“Well… His Majesty the Holy Emperor is obviously not a devil worshipper. In order to disguise himself as a prisoner due to circumstances…”

“Even so, to directly imprint such a cursed mark on his body? No, what kind of horrifying thing is that!”

Old man Max shuddered.

“Of course, it wasn’t imprinted on His Majesty’s real body!”

“What do you mean by that? If not his real body, then what exactly is that gentleman?”

Hmm. Twenty-one frowned. It felt like the more he tried to explain, the less control he had over the information.

He gave a brief glance at His Majesty Bart, then let out a small sigh.

“His Majesty’s real body cannot easily leave the capital. That body is an artificial body, in other words, a homunculus, that His Majesty’s soul inhabits when there are occasions that require traveling far.”

In an instant, Aslan and old man Max’s faces turned deathly pale.

Homunculus.

Even as ignorant mountain folk, they had heard rumors a few years ago about the devil worshippers of Delcrois who had caused a stir across the continent. A heretical group that denied the authority of the gods and sought to explore the truth of the world had borrowed the power of demons to create cursed lifeforms, claiming they would create life themselves. That was the homunculus.

Fortunately, it was discovered by the Inquisitors before completion, leading to a large-scale purge where all those involved were burned at the stake.

But to think that cursed lifeform still remained. Moreover, transferring a soul into that artificial body that even the gods had turned away from was an act befitting devil worshippers.

Old man Max mumbled in a trembling voice.

“So, so the Holy Emperor, who is the representative of the gods, is actually a demon…”

“…He is not a devil worshipper.”

Twenty-one wearily dragged a hand down his face.