Chapter 396: Charlot Mecklenburg Pays Homage to the Sovereign of Bretagne

Antonio's expression remained cold, his entire being exuding a bone-chilling killing intent.
Upon seeing Charlot, he merely said one phrase: "Very good!"
Even the other knights of the Bretagne family looked at Charlot as though they were gazing upon one of their own.

Charlot had done everything perfectly.

He had arrived at Strasbourg even earlier than the knights of the Bretagne family themselves.

In the eyes of the knights of the Bretagne family, Charlot's actions could only be for Anne and the Countess—never for His Imperial Majesty.

After all, among all the great nobles of Fars, who else had publicly denounced the usurper king, declared unwavering loyalty to Emperor Julius Axel, and immediately raised an army with no thought for their own retreat?

To the knights of the Bretagne family, Charlot was a true ally!

Even the Count had come to trust Charlot; otherwise, he would not have come to his camp. Antonio had also acknowledged Charlot's loyalty. A simple "very good" from the future mightiest knight of Fars carried profound weight.

Yet, even so, Charlot could feel the heavy tension among the knights.

The Count of Bretagne had not brought all his knights with him. Of the family’s entire force, only nine Saint-rank knights accompanied him to Strasbourg, along with the Count himself, making ten in total.

Everyone could sense the indescribable sorrow that hung over the Count.

It was well known that the Count and the Countess had shared a profound love. Antonio and Anne had experienced paternal affection far beyond the norm, to the extent that the Count had hesitated to kill Charlot despite the latter's romantic involvement with his daughter.

This was indulgence bordering on excess.

Seeing the Count now, Charlot's mind involuntarily recalled verses by Su Shi, Yuan Zhen, Li Shangyin, Nalan Xingde, Lu You, He Zhu, and Shen Yue—lines steeped in profound grief.

As a science student, Charlot had once admired the beauty of these words without understanding their depth. But now, standing before the hollow shell of the Count of Bretagne, he felt their sorrow keenly.

Even Fars' mightiest could not withstand the merciless blows of fate.

The Count could no longer even weep.

Silently, Charlot prepared a warm meal for the knights of the Bretagne family. He then dug a large pit, filling it with hot water.

Antonio immediately understood Charlot's intent and, without hesitation, removed his armor and stepped into the pit. The other knights of the Bretagne family followed suit, shedding their armor and entering the makeshift bath.

Charlot had no words of comfort to offer, knowing it was better to remain silent in such moments.

As he turned to fetch towels for the knights, a report came that two more individuals had arrived at the camp.

Charlot waved a hand, signaling his men to bring the newcomers forward.

The arrivals were Clair Bretagne and Ebner Soumet. Without a word, the two also removed their armor and joined the others in the pit.

After briefly washing, Charlot stood, drew his Blood Rose, and knelt on one knee before the Count of Bretagne. He declared loudly, "Charlot Mecklenburg, pays homage to the Sovereign of Bretagne!"

"Only blood can cleanse hatred."

"For daring to kill the Countess of Bretagne, Redmir Axel shall face the obliteration of the Axel Dynasty!"

"The scions of the Bretagne family are brilliant and resilient. They will rise again!"

"Let us rebel!"

The words were chaotic, born of a sudden impulse, but each resounded in the hearts of all present like the toll of a great bell.

Clair Bretagne emerged from the pit next, planting his knight's lance in the ground and kneeling on one knee in silent solidarity.

Ebner Soumet followed, drawing his rapier and repeating Charlot's first words: "Ebner Soumet, pays homage to the Sovereign of Bretagne!"

Antonio was the fourth to step out, and soon, the other knights of the Bretagne family followed suit, one by one kneeling before the Count.

Time seemed to stand still. Thunder rolled across the skies, and rain poured down in torrents, soaking the twelve kneeling figures. Charlot shivered slightly from the cold, pondering whether to change into dry clothes, when a furious, guttural roar erupted like the wrath of a demon lord from hell.

"Redmir! I, Bretagne, will never rest until you are destroyed!"

"Return my beloved wife!"

Black energy roiled around the Count of Bretagne, who raised a hand to point forward.

Charlot bellowed, "Attack the city!"

The Bretagne knights, though soaked to the bone, donned their wet clothes without complaint. Each was aflame with resolve.

Under Charlot's command, the mighty West Wind Knight Order surged forward, assaulting Strasbourg once more.

This time, Midaphis Axel, accompanied by a cadre of Saint-rank knights, ascended into the air. Yet, upon witnessing the demonic aura of the Count of Bretagne, the man once hailed as the next great knight of Fars fled without a fight.

Charlot, unable to match the Saint-rank knights in battle, dispatched seven of his own to support the Count while personally commanding the army. The private forces of Prince Redmir and Duke Mossred crumbled almost instantly.

As Charlot marched forward, he repeatedly called for surrender, aiming to minimize bloodshed. By the time he reached the imperial palace, the battle was over.

Duke Mossred was nowhere to be found, but Prince Redmir and his loyalists were cornered, all grievously wounded.

Among them stood a woman holding a freshly baked cake, its aroma still lingering. Redmir, reduced to groveling pleas, was a far cry from his earlier arrogance.

The Count of Bretagne stood silently in the palace's center, black energy seething around him. The oppressive aura he emitted was like a mountain crushing the hearts of all present.

Redmir, trembling, cried out, "Lord Bretagne! Spare me, and I will promote you to duke. I will marry Anne and crown her queen..."

Charlot had no intention of stealing the spotlight, knowing the Count’s loyalty to the imperial family might give him pause in executing a royal prince.

But to suggest marrying Anne? That was beyond intolerable.

Drawing his Firequell Silver Rhino, Charlot fired a single shot at Redmir Axel’s head, blowing it apart.

The weapon, infamous for its deadly history, had claimed yet another victim: a usurper emperor whose rule lasted mere days and was never formally recognized.

All who heard Redmir’s earlier words had already seen him as a dead man walking.

And when Charlot pulled the trigger, none were surprised.

Charlot Mecklenburg—the very man who had elevated Anne Bretagne to Grand Duchess of Moldova—had ensured the Axel Dynasty’s downfall with his own hands.

The news would shake the continent to its core.

For a man as fearsome as Charlot, how could anyone dare covet the eldest daughter of the Sovereign of Bretagne?

Charlot Mecklenburg killed Redmir Axel, and the headless corpse of the prince collapsed to the ground with a dull thud. A nearby woman holding a freshly baked cake screamed in horror, stepping back as the cake slipped from her trembling hands. It flew through the air and landed squarely on Ebner Soumet, further soiling his already drenched and dirty clothes.

Antonio murmured, “She’s Prince Redmill’s wife.”

Charlot retorted sharply, “He had a wife and still dared to covet my Annie?”

Charlot raised the Firequell Silver Rhino, hesitating momentarily. Beside him, Ebner Soumet reached out to stop him, taking the extraordinary pistol from his hand. “Charlot, you’ve already killed Redmill. This isn’t your burden to bear; let me handle it. I need this deed more than you do.”

Raising the gun, Ebner aimed at the now-terrified former Empress of Fars, whose panic caused her to step on a maid’s foot. Just as he was about to pull the trigger, the woman spoke softly, “Please grant me one last word.” Taking a deep breath, she regained her composure, lowered her head, and gently said to the maid, “I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean it.”

Then she looked up at Ebner, her voice calm and poised. “This hazelnut praline cake was made to celebrate my husband becoming Emperor. It must taste wonderful. Alas, he will never have the chance to enjoy it. Would you do me the honor of tasting a piece?”

Ebner hesitated, but eventually dipped his finger into a clean part of the cake and brought it to his mouth. After a moment, he nodded and said, “Exquisite. Madam, your skills are unparalleled.”

With that, he raised the Firequell Silver Rhino once more and shot her dead.

Ebner Soumet returned the pistol to Charlot without a trace of emotion. This was politics. There was no room for mercy.

Earl Bretagne let out a heavy sigh, visibly worn by the ordeal. Turning away from the palace, he left to find solace with his wife.

The knights of the Bretagne family, seasoned veterans with extensive administrative experience, swiftly took control of Strasbourg’s government offices despite the Earl’s departure. Compared to Redmill’s chaotic rule, the Bretagne family’s efficiency was remarkable. Within half a day, they had established full control over the city.

...

Charlot personally led the occupation of the Central Government Office, a place where he had worked for two years and knew intimately. After securing it, he commanded the West Wind Knight Order to launch a sweeping purge of Strasbourg’s criminal syndicates.

This was something he had wanted to do for a long time but had never had the power to achieve—wiping out the city’s gangs and its human trafficking markets entirely. Any gang members who resisted were either killed on the spot or captured and sent to Machubi Fortress Labyrinth as guards. Those who surrendered were absorbed into the West Wind Knight Order. Amidst the chaos, even ordinary citizens took advantage of the situation to loot. Charlot dealt with these opportunists as harshly as he did with gang members.

Thanks to Charlot’s decisive actions, the second coup in Strasbourg proceeded without widespread disorder. Remarkably, the city’s markets experienced an unusual period of abundance, as Charlot’s merchant caravans simultaneously transported goods into the city.

Under Earl Bretagne’s control, Strasbourg saw the return of Charlot’s two missing knight’s lances and a magical oil painting, both quietly restored to their rightful places.

Charlot worked tirelessly for several days. One evening, when he finally returned to 221B Baker Street in Val-de-Vas, he ordered a cup of coffee. Just as he was about to take his first sip, there was a knock at the door.

...

Opening it, Charlot was surprised to see an old acquaintance—Lady Mavis.

Kitty Mavis, the former Chief Overseer of the Lukavaro District patrol guards, had once been Charlot’s partner. Charlot smiled faintly. “Lady Mavis, what brings you here to visit an old colleague?”

“Please, come in.”

Lady Mavis beckoned, and a man clad in a black cloak silently entered the room. Charlot raised an eyebrow at her, but she sighed bitterly. “I have no one else to turn to. I must seek your help, Lord Mecklenburg.”

“This man, you’ve met before.”

The cloaked figure removed his hood, revealing a youthful smile. “Lord Mecklenburg, we meet again.”

Charlot studied him for a moment, realization dawning. “You’re the priest from Grand Duke Ferdinand’s funeral procession...”

The man chuckled softly. “I have another name: Morgan Axel.”

The name struck Charlot like lightning. “You’re the Crown Prince?”

At last, Charlot understood why it was the Crown Prince who had issued the decree promoting him after that mission. He had suspected the prince’s presence at the funeral but never imagined they had already met.

Charlot quickly composed himself. “Your Highness, what do you wish to do? How may I assist you?”

Morgan Axel smiled faintly. “I am my father’s youngest child. My sisters are more than twenty years my senior. Growing up in the palace, I witnessed too much unhappiness. Do you know what it means to be a winner in life, Lord Mecklenburg?”

Charlot shook his head. There were many possible answers, but it was clear the prince intended to share his own. Perhaps it would be his final words, destined to become immortal.

Morgan said, “It means living your life as you wish.”

“I never wanted to be Crown Prince, so I declared myself a God Pact Holder. But then my brother died.”

“I always thought my father would live much longer. Yet he passed away so soon.”

“Just days ago, I believed I too would die. Uncle Redmir would never let me live—my existence was his greatest threat. Yet somehow, he died before I did.”

“This world is a bit mad, don’t you think, Lord Mecklenburg?”

Charlot could only nod silently. This accursed world was indeed insane.

Morgan continued, “I wish to leave for the New Continent and start anew. I hope you can help me.”

Charlot replied, “I’ve heard the New Continent is embroiled in battles against Evil Gods. It’s incredibly dangerous.”

Morgan smiled. “I’m not safe on the Old Continent either.”

Charlot considered this and had to admit it was true. However, aiding the former Crown Prince was a grave political risk.

Killing Morgan was out of the question. After all, he was the Earl’s brother-in-law, Princess Axo Axel’s younger brother, and the uncle of Annie and Antonio—a close family member.

Charlot sighed deeply. “I’m sorry. I can’t help you directly. But I can introduce you to someone who can—Antonio.”

Better to pass the hot potato to someone wearing thick gloves.

Antonio was the perfect candidate. Whether he chose to release or kill Morgan, no one would question his actions.

Morgan pondered for a long time before nodding. “I trust your judgment, Lord Mecklenburg.”

Charlot patted his chest. “Rest assured, Your Highness. I’ve saved Antonio’s life before; he owes me. He’ll grant me this favor.”

Though Charlot couldn’t recall ever saving Antonio, it didn’t matter. No one would bother verifying the claim. What harm was there in boasting if it served his purpose?

...

Charlot successfully persuaded Morgan and Lady Mavis to accompany him aboard the Dark Luxury carriage to 58 Elysée Avenue. With his current status, Charlot didn’t even need to announce his arrival. Bringing the two hot potatoes in tow, he walked straight in to meet Antonio.

Antonio was initially curious about Charlot’s visit, but upon seeing Morgan, he exclaimed, “Uncle Morgan? How do you know Charlot?”

Charlot was about to protest any association with the former Crown Prince when Morgan Axel answered with a sly smile, “I rewarded him once for his courage and diligence—promoted him by one rank and gave him five écus.”

Charlot buried his face in his hands. The former Crown Prince was a sharp one.

This mess was too typical of Charlot’s luck.

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