I Became the Commander in a Trash Game Who Copies Skills

Chapter 36. Hero (3)

“…Speak your piece and then call me.”

Not even a minute after entering, an order to leave.

Was even the great Archduke Gabir a little flustered this time?

I can see his shoulder twitch faintly as he exits the door.

He’s the Emperor’s right-hand man, after all, so it’s understandable.

He even holds the recruitment authority for the Imperial family’s secret knight order, whose very existence is a top secret.

On the other hand, it also means that the Emperor has no room to spare, to the point of sending such an Archduke out.

As I’ve mentioned several times, [Lord’s Unyielding Mind] is a top-tier cheat trait in terms of speech and command.

It means that a very powerful ability has been neutralized, even from the Emperor’s perspective.

After the Archduke closed the door and left, the Emperor plopped down on the sofa and said.

“Have a seat. Don’t just stand there like that.”

“Yes.”

Refusing would also look strange.

I quickly sat down on this sofa.

With a creak, my bottom sank in, and then a strange elasticity supported my weight.

It’s the first time I’ve felt proper softness since falling into this land.

Click. Pour-pour-pour.

Anyway, we ended up facing each other with a low table in between.

The Emperor personally poured the tea.

“I’ll do it.”

“No, it’s fine. Tea ceremony is a hobby of mine. It’s a tradition with a long history in that eastern region.”

The Emperor smiled.

Before I knew it, he had completely erased the odd expression he had earlier.

Is this what it means to be a legendary hero?

He took it a step further and started to work his charm.

“You’re Ash, right? No last name.”

“That’s correct.”

“I’ve been watching your performance. It was truly amazing.”

He repeatedly nods his head and offers praise.

The fact that he pours the tea himself, and his humble speech and actions for someone sitting at the top of a huge empire.

Someone who doesn’t know the Emperor well would be so impressed by this that they wouldn’t know what to do.

But not me.

I know the Emperor well.

“The southwest was a little weaker in defense than other places because it was mainly composed of mercenaries. I was worried. Because each and every one is a subject of the Empire.”

A bitter voice.

A shadowed expression.

I know that all of this is a pretense.

No, it’s probably not even a pretense.

Because the human act of pretense is something that only applies to those who have emotions in the first place.

“I was on edge when Count Calvenia made his surprise attack. I knew he was a powerful caster, but I had no idea he would throw himself into the heart of the enemy lines like that.”

Facing him in person brings back memories from long ago.

When I played Warlord Conquest from beyond the monitor, the Emperor was always a person of interest.

Because in numerous playthroughs, he showed a completely different course of action from ordinary heroes.

To briefly summarize a few of them, it would be as follows.

Having the secret knight order poison the anti-imperial faction nobles and their families in one night.

Burning down an entire village of three hundred people to root out the cult’s minions.

Sacrificing hundreds of children as bait to find the ratmen’s underground city.

Inducing a major city to be handed over to a necromancer in its entirety to provoke the Theocracy’s entry into the war.

“I thought my heart was going to drop. To think I was about to lose the people of the Empire right before my eyes… before my very eyes.”

I can express it in one word.

This bastard is a psychopath.

Tens, hundreds, thousands of lives are just numbers to him.

A person’s gender and age are just categories similar to dividing the use and classification of strategic assets.

What’s surprising is that unlike other psychopath murderers, he applies the same standard to himself.

How many times had he flustered his enemies by unhesitatingly using himself as bait, as if he had forgotten his status as Emperor?

Even though it was a game made of polygons and lines of code, I would be amazed every time I encountered him as an ally or an enemy hero.

Of course, the real horror is that he never reveals that side of himself on the surface.

Because it’s the Emperor’s talent and ability to use his own image and the psychology of the crowd as part of his strategy.

“It’s a good thing you rallied the soldiers and personally executed the Count. If not, the soldiers on the southwestern wall would have met a terrible end.”

I listen silently and think.

What would have happened if I hadn't killed the Count?

The Emperor’s plan was simple.

After giving up one side of the wall to the Count’s destructive spell, eliminate the exhausted Count and his forces in one blow.

Of course, he couldn't have been sure where Count Calvenia would attack.

Because no one knows if he would act on a whim, a characteristic of vampires, at the last moment.

But even that wouldn’t have mattered.

The southwestern wall, where the mercenaries were gathered, would be the best.

Even if it wasn't there, it wouldn't have mattered.

It would only have added a small loss for the Emperor.

Someone once said.

That a cold gaze that quantifies all forces, including human lives, is an unavoidable ability to become a commander.

I don’t agree with that statement.

However, according to that statement, the young Emperor would be the best commander on the entire continent.

Seeing the Emperor, who is aware of that fact, praising me with a moved expression, I feel an unknown sense of nausea rising from within me.

Click.

To calm myself, I picked up the teacup.

The moderately hot tea went down my throat and soothed my stomach.

“I wanted to say that the entire Empire owes you a debt. Ah, speaking of which, there’s something I want to ask.”

As I was swallowing the tea, the Emperor opened his mouth.

“Where did you learn necromancy?”

Fuck.

As expected, he’s no ordinary bastard.

* * *

“Necromancy, you say?”

First, I slowly savored the tea to avoid choking.

As I put down the teacup and asked back, the Emperor nodded with a faint smile.

His expression was perfectly calm.

Despite the fact that his trait’s effect had been nullified.

There was a basis for that.

“In this battle, someone copied and cast Count Calvenia’s unique spell. Coincidentally, a similar thing happened again not long ago.”

“Is that so?”

“The necromancer who dropped an Infernal Meteor on the heads of the vampire bastards during the defense of Burken. You know him too, right?”

“Yes.”

The Emperor raised both arms.

As if to show off.

“You participated in both battles. Both times, it happened on the wall you were defending. Wouldn’t it be strange not to be suspicious?”

Indeed.

He is much more difficult to deal with than the church’s diocese head I met during the day.

Not just because his status or power is higher, but in the sense that he knows almost perfectly how to handle people.

However, this time, I have the advantage.

Even the Emperor cannot escape the history of the Empire.

The history of the Empire is based on three powers.

Steel. Magitech. And faith.

I have shown proof that I was chosen by God in front of everyone, and I even passed the diocese head’s interview a few hours ago.

Saying such a thing to me is against the faith itself.

“…I serve only one, Luark.”

I faintly contorted my face.

To make it seem like I was trying my best to hide my displeasure.

Making a facial expression is not a difficult task.

Because when I inwardly recalled Tribus' perverted laughter, a sense of disgust immediately welled up.

“Hmm, I didn’t know you’d get that angry.”

I ended up showing my anger in front of the Emperor, but.

Well, this time, the Emperor’s remark did cross the line.

It’s no different from grabbing a passing priest or paladin and grilling them about being a necromancer.

If one were to actually do such a thing, there’s a high probability of a sword fight.

I, a ‘devout believer’, am also seething with anger at his recent remark.

However, I can’t dare to express my negative emotions in front of the Emperor, so I’m just suppressing it with superhuman patience.

“Just because one is not registered as a member of the church, it doesn’t mean that everyone turns away from the gracious light of Luark.”

“That’s right, I know. I was able to read about your faith in the diocese head’s records.”

“Then why….”

“But you’re similar to me, aren’t you?”

That’s a remark that hits the nail on the head.

“A diocese head who has only dug one well his whole life, isn’t it as easy to deceive him as flipping a coin?”

It can’t be helped.

Let’s go a little strong here.

“Do you think I deceived the diocese head?”

Anyway, if I get pushed back by that way of speaking once, it’s over.

He probably isn’t saying that with certainty either.

Because the statement that God would bestow grace upon a necromancer is a claim that would warrant getting shot by an inquisitor if it weren't the Emperor.

System-wise, too, until 3.0, it was impossible to learn the two skill groups together in the first place.

“…It seems I misunderstood. I’m sorry. Please keep it a secret from the diocese head.”

As expected, the Emperor quickly laughed and waved his hands.

At that change in attitude, like flipping a coin, I felt a chill run down my spine and nodded.

“There is nothing to be sorry about.”

“Anyway, I called you today for another reason.”

The Emperor pushed the teacup aside and took out a bottle of wine from the cabinet.

Along with the wine, a single document was placed on the table.

“Come work under me. I am secretly gathering people. I need talented individuals like you who have both magic and holy power.”

The Emperor said he was gathering a secret knight order.

He also added that he would grant privileges if I joined the knight order.

These included wealth, power, connections with nobles, access to the latest gunpowder technology and metal school spells, and a thorough cover identity.

There was even a huge additional reward of a hereditary barony upon completion of a few missions.

All of them were elements that could advance my plans by several months, no, several years.

“How about it?”

The Emperor asked, raising his glass.

My answer is set.

* * *

“Where did he say he was headed?”

The young Emperor asked.

Gabir answered.

“He said he stopped by the makeshift graves of the fallen soldiers and then returned to the barracks.”

“The tailing wasn’t discovered, was it?”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“I see.”

The moonlight coming in from the window created long shadows on the carpet.

It was a night where the moon was particularly bright.

Gabir touched his beard out of habit.

He hadn’t had the leisure to trim it recently, so his beard was sticking out here and there.

“Do you suspect him?”

“No, did it seem that way?”

“A little.”

“You seem to care for Ash a lot?”

Care for him.

It wasn't a wrong statement.

Although he was a mere mercenary he had known for less than a few months, Gabir saw some inexplicable potential in him.

It was a similar feeling to when he first saw the young Emperor, with whom he was now conversing under the moonlight.

Was it because of the performance he showed in the two battles?

Or was it because of his wide range of talents, encompassing swordsmanship, magic, and miracles?

Perhaps it was the impression he got from his attitude of not fearing his own blue eyes, the power to see through lies, which everyone feared.

An eye that even the high-nosed elves were wary of.

So far, only two people had not feared this eye.

“I told him about the secret knight order. He refused to join.”

“That’s unexpected.”

“He seemed to think about it for quite a long time. In my opinion, he was pretending to think. He probably thought that refusing outright would be disrespectful to me, and that it could also arouse suspicion.”

“If you like him, I can try to recruit him again….”

“No. There’s no need to go that far.”

The Emperor smiled and turned his body.

At a perfect timing, the moon hung right above his head.

The man, with the moonlight as a halo on his back, let out a sigh.

“The enemies on this huge chessboard have too many variables that I can’t predict. If so, my side should also have a variable or two. Luck or miracles are just another way of saying unexpected opportunities.”

A cloud covered the moon.

The halo disappeared.

The crystal ball on the desk glowed.

[Your Majesty.]

A dry old man’s voice was transmitted from beyond the crystal ball.

[It’s treason. Marquis Ricardo has gathered an army and is marching towards the Imperial Capital.]

“Treason…!”

“See, Gabir. Wasn’t I right? It’s full of variables.”

The Emperor smiled again.

He thought for a moment and then said.

“I will return first. You and Viscount Pewin stay here. Stabilize Wolfskrig and patrol the southern front as you were doing. Our enemies are not only within.”

“Understood.”

“Ah, and Ash. That friend.”

The cloud cleared.

Moonlight filled the room again.

“Give him the authority to upgrade to a mercenary band. Grant him the barracks building he’s currently staying in as well. Tell him it’s my humble gift.”