“How dare those Republic bastards interrogate us like savages……!”
Luke stormed down the hallway, seething with anger. We had only just been released from the clutches of the Republic’s intelligence agency. Clearly, the ordeal had left him deeply offended by their methods. I spoke in an even, steady voice to calm him.
“At least they didn’t resort to physical violence. By their standards, that was almost gentlemanly.”
“But they used truth magic and drugs! That’s not how you treat asylum seekers. They were treating us like enemy spies!”
Luke slammed his fist into the wall with a resounding thud. The solid stonework dented under the blow, sending dust and chips of stone cascading to the floor. His eyes glimmered with fury.
“Fine, treat me however they like—but you, Daisy! You’re the only daughter of the Duke of Custos. Once godfather is adopted as a Sebastokrator, you’ll be in line for the Imperial throne! The very least they could do is show proper respect, but instead they dare—!”
I could understand Luke’s feelings. During the interrogation, the intelligence agents had focused all their attention solely on me. Ever since arriving here, I had made a point of treating Luke like a mere attendant, and because of that, the agents had ranked his importance far lower than mine. It was a fair assessment, really.
That half-day, no doubt, had been the time it took them to verify my testimony. The fact that we’d been released meant only one thing: the Republic had already confirmed the existence of the secret passage into the Demon Lord Castle. As expected of them, their response was swift. Or perhaps, in this case, the credit belonged to that woman they called the Consul…….
Elizabeth von Habsburg.
Though she had renounced her surname and wished to be known simply as Elizabeth, this woman of immense power had gotten under my skin from the very first meeting. When Luke and I seized the city’s guard captain and staged our hostage incident, she had appeared before us in nothing but a cloak thrown over her nightclothes.
She was breathtakingly beautiful, so much so that it could steal one’s breath away. Her silver hair was proof of the Habsburg imperial bloodline, and she carried herself with impeccable poise, her back straight, her chin raised. Elizabeth’s eyes met mine, calm and unflinching.
‘You say you’re a servant of Dantalian?’
Her voice was like the dead of winter. Cold, yet utterly captivating. I had planned to meet her with humility, to act the picture of politeness. But seeing her in person changed my mind. She had referred to Father simply as “Dantalian”, daring to omit any honorifics.
Was she implying that my father was her peer? The thought left a sour taste in my mouth. I kept my expression neutral as I replied.
‘I am Daisy von Custos, daughter of the esteemed Duke Custos.’
‘Custos? Don’t tell me that’s what Dantalian is called within his own inner court?’
‘I was not aware the Consul took such interest in the Duke’s private affairs. I am glad, though, as it means I have plenty of stories to share with you.’
Elizabeth gave a soft, derisive snort.
‘Hmph. It does not matter. I shall address you however you wish, Lady Custos. Now, tell me—what business brings you sneaking into the capital of our Republic in the dead of night and causing such a commotion?’
Her tone made it plain that she hadn’t taken a liking to me either.
We had exchanged only a few glances and a handful of words, yet already, I could sense the iron tenacity buried deep within this woman.
That woman never once referred to me as “Dantalian’s daughter” or “Dantalian’s child”. Even though her intelligence agency had no doubt confirmed that I was the very image of Daisy von Custos, she refused to acknowledge my closeness to Father. Whether it be consciously or unconsciously.
That was proof enough that this fallen princess harbored feelings for him.
Father was already far too fixated on this woman before me; it wouldn’t be surprising if the Consul were equally obsessed with him in return. The problem lay in her perception. She seemed to regard Father as her equal. A laughable misjudgment, and a sign of her own lack of sense.
It was time to bring her down a notch.
Without a word, I released the city guard captain. The moment my blade left his throat, he bolted, scrambling away from us as fast as his legs could carry him. Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at the sight.
‘Oh? You would let your hostage go of your own accord?’
‘He was only taken to secure an audience with Your Excellency. My primary objective is already achieved. Keeping him any longer would serve no purpose.’
‘‘No purpose,’ you say.’
Elizabeth folded her arms across her chest.
‘Lady Custos. At this very moment, seven Swordmasters have you surrounded. Now that your hostage has been released, we have no reason to hold back our attack. Do you not think you are being a bit too arrogant?’
The atmosphere shifted sharply, the tension in the air turning dangerous.
The warriors guarding the Consul moved half a step forward, forming a wall of steel around her. Of the seven Swordmasters already visible, two more had remained perfectly concealed—but I had seen through them all. They now knew, beyond any doubt, that I was at least their equal, someone of Swordmaster caliber.
The moment was ripe to press the advantage.
Sliding my greatsword back into its scabbard, I spoke with measured composure.
‘As the heir to the House of Custos, I have slain Baal, the mightiest of all Demon Lords, captured Agares alive, and dealt an honorable death in single combat to Marshal Gaspar de Tavannes, Regent-General of the Frankish Empire. And now, I request asylum within your Republic.’
In other words: treat me as a political defector worthy of proper respect.
The soldiers’ faces faltered with visible unease. The weight of the achievements I had just recited was simply too overwhelming.
Looking back on it now, Father’s orders for me to personally slay Demon Lords had been a carefully laid preparation for the future. He intended to put me forward as the next Emperor of the Habsburg Empire, depending on the situation.
Naturally, the moment a Demon Lord’s adopted daughter ascended the throne, outrage would erupt—not only from the surrounding nations but from the people themselves. How could they possibly accept the daughter of a Demon Lord as Emperor? Never. Absolutely not.
That was when my feats would shine. A human who had slain Baal, the highest-ranking Demon Lord, and captured Agares, the second. If we flaunted these accomplishments, opposition would wither. Perhaps it would even paint me as a ruler equally feared and respected by both demons and humans, a monarch of true balance…….
Father often likened himself to a spider, and truly, no metaphor could be more precise.
By weaving countless threads in every direction, he ensured absolute preparedness, laying plans for every conceivable future. Whatever course the world might take, he was ready to respond; every soul beyond himself was nothing but prey, writhing helplessly as they became ensnared and slowly consumed by his web.
You are no exception, Elizabeth von Habsburg. Show Father the reverence he deserves. I lifted my chin and met the Consul’s gaze head-on.
Moments later, the Consul parted her lips to speak.
‘The Republic welcomes all people, regardless of origin. If you truly seek asylum, then know that our nation will gladly receive you. However, I trust you understand that certain procedures must first be carried out.’
‘Men. We have been graced with an extraordinary guest. See that she is received with all due courtesy.’
With that command from Elizabeth, the ordeal began—an interrogation that seemed to have no end.
Surrounded by intelligence agents, I was bombarded with hundreds of questions. Each interrogator was a consummate professional, sharp-eyed and unrelenting. The rumors that the Habsburg Republic maintained the most formidable intelligence network on the continent were clearly no idle boasts. Then again, it was only natural; in any nation where dictatorship reigned in full, institutions thrived.
Perhaps their goal was to overwhelm me with their barrage, to unravel my composure with the sheer weight of their inquiries. If so, they were in for disappointment. Father had once, under the guise of training, subjected me to unceasing torture for half a month without a single reprieve. Even then, I had kept my mind intact.
‘Did you truly betray Dantalian?’
‘To clarify, this refers to Dantalian, the Rank 71 Demon Lord. Did you, in fact, turn against him?’
They tried to corner me, building their own line of reasoning with careful precision. Compared to Father’s terrifying “lessons”, however, this was little more than a child’s game.
Boredom had set in quickly, so I decided to turn their endless questioning to my own advantage. By the end of it, Barbatos was no longer under surveillance by the Bureau but placed squarely under my personal jurisdiction. No doubt Elizabeth’s hounds were congratulating themselves right now, convinced they had achieved the “best possible outcome”.
Elizabeth had indeed “received me with courtesy”, as she promised. In return, I’d given her subordinates the treatment they deserved—thorough, meticulous, and entirely on my terms. I’d done nothing wrong.