The Sword Emperor Transmigrates

Chapter 112

Ever since he joined the Council and rose to his current position, there had never been anyone who could push him around. With the exception of two or three, everyone in the Council was busy bowing to him. As for the explorers, well, there was nothing more to say.

Yet Frances was making him behave as if he’d forgotten how much power he had.

The old mage’s eyes were naturally drawn to the person behind her. Is she acting this arrogant because she has the Chief Elder to help her?

Russell didn’t look away and met his eyes, tilting his head as if to say, What are you looking at?

Though Gordon was technically one Class above him, Russell was almost there. But he had more battle experience than Gordon, so in a real fight, the councilor would probably lose. Besides, he had spent most of his life as a politician, not a mage.

His thoughts shifted back to himself. No. That girl cannot be so foolish. Njord’s daughter rose to the top again by crawling her way up from the very bottom after losing her father. In that case, whatever she has to offer must be enormous, since she believes I may not be offended by this.

Even though Aquamarine restored its Rank A status, they weren’t powerful enough to deal with him as an equal.

But the reason he’d responded to the rude invitation he’d received in the middle of the night was due to this very reason.

“Proof of eight years ago.”

It was the most scandalous conspiracy in the Atlantis Maritime Alliance’s very short history. Gordon hadn’t arrived at Atlantis when it occurred. The people currently in power were desperately keeping it covered up, but Frances had something that could change that.

If I can have it in my hands, I can make over half of the Council submit to my will or make them into my people.

The politics of the Council depended on how much one councilor dominated the others. Gordon, the Class 8 Archmage, had an enormous amount of influence, but he was a foreigner and was treated as such. A carrot and stick could only take him so far, and he wasn’t very well-known among the citizens of Atlantis.

Even after joining the Rift Preservation Faction, he was still competing with Pablo, who was weaker than him. So, he couldn’t help but be enticed by Frances’s words.

“You’re making this old man fret. Won’t you tell me your matter of business?”

“If that’s what you wish, Councilor, I won’t hold back.”

“Please. I’m listening,” Gordon said, leaning back.

Frances looked as if she’d been waiting for this and began to speak. Even aside from the information Leonard had given her, she had information she had painfully collected over the past eight years, which she patiently relayed.

Within her story, there was one particular report that was especially damning.

“You know who Christopher Conrad is, right?” she asked.

“Of course. I enjoyed watching your match.”

“Then, did you know that scumbag secretly met with a messenger from Pablo right before the fight and received a suspicious drug?”

Gordon had heard the plan from Pablo’s own mouth, but like the cunning politician he was, he didn’t even blink and instead gave her a sideways look. “I don’t suppose you’re proposing that we make a scandal out of doping.”

“What, and dig him up from his grave? The problem here isn’t the doping, it’s the substance that was used for the doping,” Frances corrected.

Her words brought back the memories of that day. Pablo had made the mistake of nervously showing off the drug to Gordon. He remembered that it looked like a dark red marble. As an Archmage, he had been able to sense a strange, ominous energy coming from inside the object, but he’d chalked it up to it being a substance that caused harmful effects.

“After the duel, we took some of the shards in his body and studied them. The Chief Elder over here analyzed them himself,” the girl said.

With that cue, Russell pulled out a wad of paper and flicked it toward Gordon. The flotation spell activated without needing a command, and the paper drifted very gently into the palm of his hand. Without another word, the councilor began to read the report.

A few minutes passed.

“...Is this true?” the old mage asked, his voice quivering as his face fell for the first time.

He couldn’t help himself.

Russell gave a single nod, as if he’d expected this reaction. “It is. I swear on the authority of the Magic Tower as well as my own name.”

Even though the two were acquainted, they weren’t close enough to make empty statements to each other, which was why Gordon trusted him even more.

After receiving confirmation from Russell, the mana surrounding the councilor began to rage furiously like a storm.

If the situation hadn’t been handled carefully, even Gordon could have been toppled.

Pablo...! That lunatic seriously crossed the line!

The contents of the report were very simple. Russell had performed a test to extrapolate the cause of the patterns and irregularities of the magic left on Conrad’s corpse. And from his findings, he’d detected the influence of a power that could not exist in this world. They were the vestiges of the unknown gods who reached out their hands through the Rifts.

Though it was understandable that the Council’s Rift Preservation Faction was motivated by profit, directly interacting with and making deals with the Rift’s unknown gods was considered taboo in every continent.

“His leading the Rift Preservation Faction, his plotting Aquamarine’s downfall, and now his colluding with the entities behind the Rifts. We believe that he did all this with the goal of taking over the Alliance for himself,” Frances said in a low voice, waking Gordon from his fury. “But you’re not like him, are you? You have absolutely no involvement with my father’s death, and I don’t believe you ever colluded with such entities. Am I wrong?”

The gears rapidly turned in his head.

Which side would give him the most benefit?

Was now the time to cut off Pablo?

Were Frances’s cards reliable enough that he could be sure in his decision?

Tsk. The only thing I can do is take a gamble.

He made his choice.

“It is as you say, Captain Frances. You did well to seek me out.”

After all, mages only valued Rifts to the extent that they aided in their research in developing powers and tools. Rifts were not something that could be compromised with, nor were they something that could coexist with them.

As Rifts continued to deteriorate and eventually become Corroded Realms, the natural laws and principles of the worlds they contained loosened greatly. Once they reached a hideous state, martial artists could use them as opportunities to get stronger, but mages could not bend the laws of other worlds. Sure, there might be some who could learn them, but that required one to forget everything they had ever learned.

“However, this report alone isn’t enough. That man is careful, and I am certain he has ways to escape the consequences,” Gordon warned. Even now, he was trying to stay one step removed from her plan.

“Of course. I haven’t reached the main point yet.” She leaned forward and whispered, “This document merely shows that you and Pablo cannot keep working together. I haven’t yet told you how to prove what happened eight years ago, now have I?”

“Mm, now that you mention it, that is correct.”

“Let me be frank.” France paused for effect and grinned. Then she dropped the bomb. “The Pequod, the Aquamarine’s sister vessel that sank eight years ago, is currently sailing around as a phantom ship.”

“...What?”

“And the ship that sank it was none other than the Moby Dick.”

Gordon had long since chosen to pursue politics instead of magic, but the knowledge he’d accumulated as a mage never went anywhere. There were few magical phenomena that were more fascinating than phantom ships, and he also remembered how they formed and how they behaved.

So, he immediately realized what Frances was implying.

“I see. So that will provide evidence of Moby Dick’s involvement,” he concluded.

Phantom ships functioned solely on the premise of vengeance. If the Pequod merely attempted to attack the Moby Dick, it was proof of their relationship. And if Ahab, who was the heart of the ship, could provide a testimony with the memories of his past life, no one in Atlantis would refute him, regardless of whether he was undead.

Now that he’d heard everything, Gordon made his decision. “Captain Frances, I am deeply indebted to you.”

Frances’s hands curled into tight fists. She’d known that she would be successful, but there wasn’t a trace of triumph on her face. She only smiled pleasantly. “On the contrary, it is because you are the most suited to lead the Council, Councilor Gordon. I was merely trying to get in your good graces, even in the slightest.”

Gordon had a fake smile on his face as he held out his hand. “Ah, was that it? Then you have succeeded remarkably.”

“My goodness! Is that so?”

“I will find a meeting location and a means of communication that Pablo’s eyes cannot reach. Truly, he has done something that brings shame to his title as both a councilor and an explorer. If we continue to let him do as he pleases, he will bring trouble to the entire Alliance.”

“Hearing you say that puts me at ease, Councilor. The former captain and crew of Aquamarine will be able to rest in peace.”

Though their handshake was cold, the hunger and fierceness in their eyes were not.

Gordon and Frances smiled, both of them baring teeth, an expression that was far from peaceful.

* * *

On the outskirts of District 2’s commercial sector, there were some street stalls on the roadsides with few seats and cheap food. A boy sat at one of the counters, staring down at his empty plate.

Considering the low price, the food is good, and so are the portions. I suppose they have no other choice but to maintain a high quality if most explorers prefer to eat at street stalls over expensive restaurants.

People who made a living out of violence did not take their food lightly and painfully killed anyone who messed with their meals. Explorers were extraordinarily powerful compared to the average person, even if they weren’t Rank A or B. If a street vendor offended such customers, they wouldn’t survive more than a beating or two. That was also why people who ran guesthouses in the Central Plains tended to die young.

Leonard pushed away the distracting thoughts and looked back to the previous night, thinking about Herman Melville.

His skill exceeded my expectations. Neither of them had used their full power, but they’d been able to get a sense of the other.

What would happen if he used all four swords? And if he used the Sword Manipulation Art or Flying Sword Technique?

The version of Herman he pictured was already just as powerful as the Sword Emperor. He was on equal footing with the Commander of the Order of the Fledgling Dragon, perhaps even slightly stronger.

But Pablo is still stronger than him? Strong enough that Herman hasn’t challenged him to a rematch because he doesn’t think he can win?

In the Central Plains, they described people like Herman as having itchy feet. People like that couldn’t settle down anywhere and were constantly wandering. It would have been very difficult for him to suppress that urge, yet he continued to put off his rematch with Pablo.

There was only one reason Leonard could come up with.

Herman thought his chances of victory were too low.

At that moment, a man casually slipped into the seat next to him. “Ho,” he greeted.

“I don’t think we’re on close enough terms to be greeting each other,” Leonard muttered. Having sensed him, he wasn’t surprised, nor was the other.

“How cold! You were so much more lively when our swords were clashing. Is this how you usually are?” The Swordmaster Herman ordered some food, then said to Leonard, “Hey.”

“What.” Leonard’s flat tone made Herman burst into laughter.

Then the old man made a sudden proposal.

“If I challenged you to a match tonight, would you say yes?”

“Location?” the boy replied casually.