Chapter 838
Ian’s eyes twitched slightly.
It wasn’t just because of the betrayal and anger flickering in Hector’s single eye.
"I think I’ll need a more detailed explanation of what exactly you mean," said Ian.
"Do you know how many letters I’ve sent to the Great Church, Your Grace?" Hector shot back immediately, his nose twitching as his gaze shifted to the bottle beside him.
He grabbed the bottle and filled his cup again, speaking as if chewing the words out, "From the moment Rimuta and Gunhir revealed their true colors, to when Almand, that coward who deserves to be ground alive and scattered into the Black Sea, betrayed us."
His other hand, resting on the desk, was clenched so tightly that the knuckles were white and sharp.
"I even reported everything: how they deceived the Acting Authority in Racliffe and blocked my access. And yet, every time, the Great Church only told me to wait."
Setting the bottle down, Hector looked back at Ian. His eye had sunk again, reflecting the weariness in his heavy voice. "And now, today, you’ve come instead. Without anyone’s command or request. By your own will alone."
"So you’re saying you’ll no longer rely on the Great Church and will decide things for yourself?" Ian asked quietly, holding Hector’s gaze.
It wasn’t how he had originally planned the conversation to go, but he intended to draw out more of Hector’s true thoughts while he had the chance.
As expected, Hector nodded. "Yes. Thanks to that, I finally realized what truly matters. And how many loyal, faithful men I’ve lost because of my foolish waiting."
Raising one arm, he pointed toward the wall with a finger missing a joint. "Some had the sense to flee when they could no longer endure it. But most of those poor souls outside... even now, starving to death, are still waiting for my orders."
A bitter, wrinkled smile spread across his gaunt, freckled face. He set his clenched fist back onto the table and met Ian’s eyes.
"So rather than clinging to this worthless island... My true duty and responsibility is to save what remains of my people. That is what I must do, Your Grace."
That alone was enough to make Ian’s lips curl faintly. Not only was the man eloquent, but he was also sincere.
Of course, that wasn’t the only reason Ian smiled.
"So in the end, you’re saying you plan to run to save them. And leave me behind here," Ian said bluntly, picking up his cup.
Hector’s eyes widened, and his breath caught for a moment. "O-Of course, I intended to express my utmost gratitude and sincerity to Your Grace! And if you would permit it, I will also prepare an alternative!"
Ian tilted the cup in his hand slightly as he asked, "An alternative?"
Hector swallowed dryly, his eyes darting, then bent one knee. "First, allow me to offer my deepest apologies for my rudeness, Your Grace. I have disgraced myself before an honored guest..."
"It’s fine. It was a rather interesting conversation. I’ve learned a bit more about you as well. Sit." Ian gestured forward with his chin and brought the cup to his lips.
The liquor was foul—musty and acrid as it went down his throat.
Hector hurried forward and sat across from him, picking up the bottle. "Thank you for your generosity, Your Grace."
Setting his cup down, Ian asked, "Let’s get to the point. What exactly is this ‘alternative’?"
Hector quickly refilled it and began, "I have no doubt that you, Your Grace, are a transcendent being, one who has reached the rank of demigod. And your forces must be formidable as well."
Under Ian’s steady gaze, Hector set the bottle aside and respectfully lifted his cup.
"However, as I mentioned, this entire region lies within the domain of those corrupted heathens, Your Grace. If you choose to fight them here, even in victory, you’ll suffer heavy losses. Even if we fight alongside you."
"You’re not suggesting we leave the archipelago together, are you?"
At Ian’s remark, spoken as he lifted his cup, Hector froze again.
It was enough to draw a quiet scoff from Ian. "Guess I’m right."
Hector set his cup back down, his posture straightening completely. "I’m not proposing that we just run away, Your Grace."
Ian brought the drink to his lips and added, "Then?"
"Take me to the capital. "I will personally testify before the royal house about everything that has happened. Of course, I will also accept punishment for desertion," Hector said, his eyes wide with burning intensity.
Whether this was a variation of an old plan or something he had just devised on the spot, only he knew.
"Once His Majesty learns the full extent of the situation, the Great Church won’t be able to ignore it either. If the Golden Fleet and the Purification Squad are dispatched together, the corrupted heretics of the archipelago can be wiped out without much difficulty."
Ian took a drink, the corner of his mouth twisting slightly. It wasn’t just that Hector was showing the adaptability expected of someone in his position.
"However, I ask that my subordinates be sent ahead to southern Run Catis. Theodore and Melina will care for them in my stead—"
"That plan won’t work." Ian cut him off, setting his cup down.
Hector stiffened.
"The royal house and the Great Church won’t have the capacity to deal with the archipelago for quite some time. The former Crown Prince, His Highness Hyked, has returned," said Ian.
Hector’s brow furrowed in confusion as he asked a beat too late, "What?"
As expected, he had no idea what was happening on the mainland.
"And he didn’t come back alone. Other survivors returned with him. Right now, they’re facing off against the Imperial Army. A civil war is about to begin."
"What do you mean... then... that absurd claim... It’s actually?" Hector’s lips parted in disbelief.
"And we can’t wait for that war to end. The seal on the ancient god that those heathens worship will break long before that. I received a revelation. That’s why I came here instead of staying to deal with the chaos in the capital."
Not giving Hector time to process it, Ian pulled the bottle toward him with a flick of his Willful Grasp and filled his cup.
A faint smile curled at his lips. "If not now, there won’t be another chance to stop them."
Even after Ian finished speaking and drained his drink, Hector said nothing.
It was as if time itself had stalled. He didn’t even seem to register Ian’s telekinetic power.
"In any case, it was a solid plan. Shame it won’t work," Ian said again, refilling his cup, partly to hasten Hector’s acceptance of the situation. "You should’ve tried it sooner, even if it meant ignoring the chain of command."
"I have ruled this island for a very long time, Your Grace," muttered Hector. His voice came out strained, like someone who had just been released from a chokehold. "And during that time, all communication with the mainland went solely through the Western Duke."
"So you’re saying your connection to the royal house was completely severed."
"Yes. Even so, I did try...." Hector covered his face with one hand as he answered, then slowly steadied his breathing and continued, "But to those in the capital, it seems we were nothing more than islanders. People too dangerous and irreverent to even speak with—untrustworthy by nature."
"Then how exactly were you communicating with the Great Church?" Ian asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.
Hector dragged a hand down his face before replying. "There was a man... the former bishop of Racliffe. Now he’s one of the central diocesan leaders—an official member of the Great Church."
"So the Church’s answer came through him alone."
Hector nodded. "That’s right...."
It was clear he hadn’t noticed the shift in Ian’s tone. If he had ever suspected his reports were being intercepted or redirected, he wouldn’t be reacting like this.
Makes sense. If he had, his resentment would’ve been aimed at the Council, not the Church.
And he likely wouldn’t have endured this long.
As Ian came to that conclusion and raised his cup, Hector finally let out a long breath.
"Only now do I realize how foolish I’ve been."
"In what way?" Ian asked, pausing.
Hector reached for his drink. "The Goddess smiles upon those who do their best through hardship and adversity. But if you begin to rely on that smile, she teaches you a sharp lesson without warning."
"Sharp" is putting it lightly.
Ian's eyes flicked over Hector’s fingers.
The permanent injuries across his body—those missing joints—were likely the result of that lesson. It also made Elia’s earlier reaction make perfect sense.
"For those who depend on luck, only ruin and collapse await in the end. The misfortunes we suffer along the way are warnings meant to prevent us from reaching that point." Hector said.
As if sensing Ian’s gaze, he absentmindedly brushed the eyepatch over his left eye with his uninjured hand. "Of course, there are times when you have no choice but to rely on luck, even knowing the cost. I believed this would be one of those times as well...."
"You think she wanted you to overcome it yourself," Ian added lightly as Hector gave a bitter smile and drank.
Hector nodded and set the cup down. "Perhaps the Goddess is giving me one final chance—through you, Your Grace."
"So I can take it that you’ve decided to come with me?" Ian asked, picking up the bottle.
Hector extended his cup forward and nodded. "Yes. I will assist you to the best of my ability, Your Grace. So from now on, please call me by name."
"Very well, Hector." Ian gave a faint smile as he filled Hector’s cup, then poured one for himself. "There must be a shrine or temple somewhere dedicated to that ancient god they worship. Do you already know where it is?"
"The ancient god they serve is called Raskagin. In the old tongue of the archipelago, it means ‘the one who raises tidal waves.’ It’s a name sailors avoid speaking at sea."
Setting his cup down, Hector stood and turned toward the large map on the wall. "The place is said to be where the ancient heroes of legend sealed it."
He picked up a pointer leaning against the wall and gestured toward two clusters of small islands in the northwest and southwest.
"These two islands, called Rizdan and Kalinso, are said to be the site."
Ian raised an eyebrow slightly. "But only one was sealed. Why two islands?"
Hector clicked his tongue and nodded. "The old kings of the archipelago each claimed the battlefield of that legend as their own domain, which is how it came to be. Even now, the northern side is controlled by Rimuta and the southern by Gunhir."