Paladin of the Dead God
chapter-141

“That’s a joke Duke already made, Your Majesty. I am Isaac Issacrea.”

Isaac responded calmly. However, Emperor Waltzemer tilted his head in confusion.

“A joke?”

‘…He seems to take his jokes quite seriously.’

Isaac thought to himself and lowered his gaze, noticing someone else beside the Emperor.

Isolde, with a flushed face, was standing next to Waltzemer.

“What do you mean by a joke, Dietrich?”

Dietrich shrugged and replied.

“I’ve already mentioned that nothing has been decided yet. It’s His Majesty who didn’t heed those words.”

“But who would refuse our dear niece?”

Isaac glanced at Isolde’s expression.

In fact, she looked like she wanted to beat the emperor and everyone else, but to Waltzemer, even that seemed endearing.

Waltzemer leaned in and continued,

“I’d like to talk face-to-face, but it’s too bright here for that. Isolde, please help.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Isolde began to wrap a bandage around the Emperor’s head, bending it forward. Perhaps, aside from the pope, Isolde was the only one who could make the Emperor bow.

Isaac waited quietly, contemplating this.

“There are no strict ceremonial officers, no ministers telling me to uphold dignity, nor nobles who disrespect me if I relax a little, so feel free to be at ease, Sir Issacrea.”

“How could I possibly feel at ease before the father of all? Please allow me to act humbly from a lower stance.”

Dietrich looked at Isaac as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It was unusual for Isaac to show such politeness, given his own significant status.

Waltzemer laughed.

“More polite than I heard, eh, Dietrich? But you’ll get comfortable soon, Isaac. I prefer romping on the battlefield over tiptoeing in the palace. I don’t care for unnecessary formalities.”

“All done, Your Majesty.”

Only after Isolde had wrapped the Emperor’s horns with bandages could Isaac finally see Waltzemer’s face clearly.

Waltzemer was in his 50s according to Isaac’s knowledge, but the man in front of him looked to be in his early 30s. He had a large, robust physique fitting for a warrior, with no signs of aging visible.

He had a long black beard, seemingly grown to add to his majesty. His attire was as modest as that of the guards outside, barely distinguishable.

But no crown, cape, scepter, or beard was necessary to denote his regality; the most defining and authoritative feature was shining right above his head.

Deer antlers pointed towards the ceiling.

This was a symbol of authority that no crown could match. Even wrapped in bandages, they couldn’t hide the light emanating from them.

Truly, a divine miracle on earth, a manifest agent of will, as one would expect of a holy body.

The only thing undermining his dignity was the butterfly bow made from the bandage between the horns.

Whether or not Waltzemer was aware of Isolde’s subtle act of revenge with the cute bow, he looked at Isaac with a dignified expression.

Dietrich struggled to keep a straight face but seemed to have decided to remain silent.

“Let’s walk and talk.”

***

The four of them strolled down the corridor. From the outside, the house appeared small, but there was a hidden space inside; the corridor was unexpectedly wide and long. The central garden was well-maintained and beautifully landscaped.

Waltzemer looked at Isaac’s face and said,

“Hmm, Sir Issacrea has a face just as impressive as mine.”

“Be mindful of your conscience, Your Majesty,” Dietrich muttered incredulously.

“I’m talking about physiognomy, Dietrich. Exceptionality cannot be hidden. That face doesn’t belong to a commoner, does it?”

Isaac didn’t know how much a noble’s face differed from a commoner’s. Honestly, from his modern perspective, he thought nobility just meant those who had started wielding swords and committing murders early on, eventually rising to power.

“If you were to look for a noble’s physiognomy on Earth, you might have to start with the faces of murderers.”

“How about it, Sir Issacrea. If you’re not pleased with being a nephew-in-law, have you considered adopting a historic noble’s name and title?”

Waltzemer smiled and locked eyes with Isaac. It wasn’t just the antlers that were a characteristic of his divine nature; his golden eyes also shone brightly like the sun.

“How about ‘Brant’ for instance?”

“Your Majesty!?” Isolde exclaimed in surprise, but seeing Dietrich’s unshaken demeanor, it seemed the Duke might already have been informed.

“Just a suggestion, a suggestion. But surely Isaac Brant sounds more prestigious than Isaac Issacrea. If we’re transplanting roots, we might as well craft a narrative. What do you think, Dietrich, about claiming he was a seed sown during the 12th Dawn Army campaign?”

“If Freya doesn’t kill me first, it might be possible,” Dietrich responded lightly.

Isolde looked confused by their conversation, but Isaac was pondering why the Emperor would make such a suggestion.

“What do you think, Grail Knight? How does the name Isaac Brant sound?”

Isaac concluded his thoughts.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty, but Brant doesn’t seem like the right name for me. And I believe we can reach a satisfying conclusion without such measures.”

Both Dietrich and Waltzemer fell silent.

Waltzemer’s golden eyes glimmered as he smiled. It was a peaceful atmosphere, but Isaac knew he was in a potentially perilous situation.

Instinctively, his hand moved towards the Luadin key, although he doubted pulling out his sword would make a difference against Waltzemer.

He would have to navigate this situation cleverly with his words.

“It seems the brilliant Grail Knight has already figured out my intentions?”

“If I change my name and abandon my status as a Grail Knight, the church will also be satisfied while ignoring my return. Thank you for your consideration.”

Consideration? Not quite.

The fact was that not only the church but also Emperor Waltzemer himself was uncomfortable with Isaac’s return. Indeed, it would be accurate to say that the Emperor felt even more burdened than the Order did.

After all, Isaac had become a symbol of the newly rising Dawn Army.

Moreover, a Grail Knight who had returned with the title of ‘resurrected’ and actively supported the Dawn Army could potentially become unstoppable.

Neither the Church nor the Emperor wanted a resurrected Grail Knight like Isaac. Yet, Waltzemer had offered Isaac the option of ‘changing his surname to save his life.’

And Isaac had just refused it.

“May I ask why?”

“I have no intention of abandoning my domain.”

Waltzemer did not scoff at Isaac’s ‘tiny domain.’ It was natural for a man who had fought for everything he owned to value what he had gained.

But for Isaac, the Issacrea domain meant more than just land.

“Alright, you said you could reach a conclusion that would satisfy me? Let’s hear it.”

“Your Majesty, I know you do not wish for the Dawn Army.”

The initiation of the Dawn Army would mean that the resources, talent, and time of the Gerthonia Empire would be sucked into a crusade towards the Holy Land.

Indeed, the fragmentation of the Gerthonia Empire under Waltzemer’s predecessors was largely due to the repeated mobilizations of the Dawn Army.

“The Empire is just beginning to recover and catch its breath. We don’t have the capacity to start another Dawn Army now. It might be possible if it were led by civilian volunteers like during the 12th Dawn Army, but if the Codex of Light dictates full participation, the Empire could fracture again.”

Waltzemer smiled at Isaac’s explanation.

“A Grail Knight wandering the wastelands knows something that the Church’s bishops don’t?”

“They’re not unaware; I believe they actually hope for it.”

“They want the Empire to divide?”

“Currently, the Gerthonia Empire is more powerful than ever under your rule, Your Majesty. The nobility’s power has increased significantly compared to the past, creating a balance with the Order. The Order likely finds this displeasing.”

Of course, a major part of this backdrop was that Waltzemer was a divine agent anointed by the gods.

If Waltzemer were not considered a holy figure, the Order wouldn’t have let things slide this far. Thus, they are likely trying passively to restore the old balance.

To a time when the Gerthonia Empire was fragmented and the Order could control its pieces.

“So the Church might be intentionally leading the expedition to fail?”

“Not exactly. I believe the Church genuinely wants to reclaim the Holy Land. Reclaiming them is a critical religious goal, and if successful, it would significantly enhance their authority. But if they fail, they lose nothing.”

Even death on the battlefield is inconsequential. As long as they don’t renounce their faith out of fear at the last moment, they can proudly enter heaven.

What better ticket to heaven than dying on a crusade to reclaim the Holy Land?

As Waltzemer listened to Isaac’s explanation, his smile gradually faded.

“Yes, that’s why I do not want the Dawn Army right now. Of course, I haven’t forgotten the mission the Codex of Light has given me. The Holy Land must be reclaimed, and the undead of the Immortal Order must be exterminated. But not yet.”

Waltzemer said this with a subtle expression and asked Isaac,

“So, do you know how to stop the Dawn Army?”

“No, Your Majesty. The Dawn Army cannot be stopped.”

***

Waltzemer’s face hardened again as Isaac spoke firmly. His eyes brightened fiercely.

Isaac wanted to use his eye of chaos to read Waltzemer’s emotions and intentions, but he couldn’t. He now understood the warning the Imperial Guard had given him.

Beyond those god-gifted eyes was the flame of Urbansus.

Looking into that would be like scorching one’s soul. Especially with the eye of Chaos, the flames would directly touch him.

Despite feeling an overwhelming pressure, Isaac continued speaking.

“The Dawn Army cannot be stopped. Your Majesty must use it to your advantage.”

“Use it?”

Isaac nodded.

“Religious fervor will shift power to the Church. That’s inevitable. Trying to stop the Dawn Army could be seen as abandoning the duties of the Codex of Light.”

This was the Emperor’s biggest concern.

He didn’t want the Dawn Army, but actively hindering it or not participating could lead to condemnation from the Order, or in extreme cases, excommunication.

The Emperor of the White Empire could be forcibly turned into a pariah.

It seemed impossible to excommunicate a holy figure, but even Urbansus, the first pope, had such authority.

“Participate actively in the Dawn Army. Rally your forces with the resolve to actually reclaim the Holy Lands this time.”

“And face yet another failure…”

“Also, you must gain the cooperation of the Elil Order and the Word’s Forge.”

Waltzemer fell silent.

People often divide the world into the White Empire, which follows the Codex of Light, and the Black Empire, which opposes it.

Collaboration between these factions is rare.

Except for the early stages, the Dawn Army had largely been a solo effort by the Gerthonia Empire.

“Except for the beginning, neither Elil nor the World’s Forge properly joined the battles due to the Church’s arrogance and dogmatism. You must not only represent the Codex of Light but lead as the Emperor of the White Empire.”

“That sounds easier said than done.”

“It’s not easy. But if you cannot bring them together, the 13th Dawn Army will fail just like the others.”

Isaac emphasized what the Emperor could do.

“Your Majesty is a warrior. Your place is not in the palace or temple, but on the battlefield. Do not avoid it. Join hands with allies and defeat enemies. Then, earthly power will naturally return to you.”

Waltzemer found Isaac’s suggestions intriguing.

He had already unified the fragmented Gerthonia Empire. But if he could also embrace the Elil Order and the World”s Forge, becoming ‘the true Emperor of the White Empire’?

His authority would surpass even that of the pope of the Codex of Light.