And so began the sudden “interrogation tournament,” with about a hundred unwilling contestants.
No one said a word. Everyone just stared as Panamera carried out her questioning.
“You there. Yes, you. I’ll give you five seconds to think about each question. Answer as quickly as you can—I’d really appreciate it.”
She smiled as she spoke. The man sitting on the ground twitched, his face tightening, but Panamera didn’t seem to notice—or rather, she didn’t care.
“Let’s start with the first question. Tell me your name.”
“…P-Peyser.”
“A fine name. Thank you for cooperating, Peyser.”
He’d only taken two or three seconds to reply, and Panamera nodded, clearly pleased.
“Now, my second question. Which knight order do you belong to?”
“…I can’t say. If I do, I’ll be killed.”
Peyser’s voice was calm, even as he gave that answer. Panamera accepted it with a nod—then swung her sword.
“Then on to the next question.”
Her blade pierced clean through Peyser’s right palm.
“Gh…!”
He gritted his teeth against the pain, groaning low. Panamera, meanwhile, smiled at him kindly.
“There’s something I’ve always wondered. People often say, ‘I can’t talk, or I’ll be killed.’ Yet here you sit, silent, ready to be killed on the spot. Isn’t that contradictory? What do you think?”
“…If I’m going to die anyway, I should die without betraying information.”
Sweat ran down Peyser’s face as he forced the words out.
“Hmm. Admirable resolve. In that case, I still have more questions. I hope you’ll endure. Incidentally, I’ll be cutting off your right wrist next, so do brace yourself.”
Panamera announced it cheerfully, and resumed the interrogation.
In the end, the first man never revealed anything useful. Dee, Arv, and Lou stayed calm enough, but Arte and Til had gone pale as sheets. I quickly sent them back down to the underground chamber.
As for the knights from Ceat Village… mixed reactions. Their faces were grim, but you could tell they were desperately trying to keep their composure. Well, they’d seen their share of wars, so I suppose they had the stomach for it.
Unexpectedly, Kamshin and I were also able to watch without flinching.
“Hmm, bled out, did he? Next time, I’ll have to remember to stop the bleeding before continuing.”
Panamera chuckled lightly as she turned to the second man. The group of captives was already pale as ghosts. Some even had tears brimming in their eyes.
Logically, questioning the most frightened ones first would’ve been effective. But of course, Panamera chose the one glaring defiantly at her.
“Now then, first question. Are you ready?”
Just as she spoke, about twenty men emerged from deeper within her knight order’s ranks.
“Hold, Viscount Panamera.”
A low voice rang out. Panamera looked up, casually wiping the blood from her sword.
There stood two men: one tall and overweight, the other short and stocky with muscles like boulders. Judging from their ornate black-and-white armor and cloaks, they were clearly nobles. The knights behind them, clad in matching colors, must have been from their respective orders.
The short man in black armor glared at Panamera as he spoke.
“During this crucial battle, I must ask you to refrain from actions that would lower the morale of other knight orders.”
Panamera tilted her head, smiling sweetly.
“My, Viscount Tron. You, who usually show no mercy to your enemies, have suddenly developed a charitable streak?”
Tron clicked his tongue, scowling.
“Don’t twist my words. What I’m saying is that conducting such gruesome torture during a campaign where His Majesty himself participates could undermine overall morale. Cease this, before the King arrives.”
Even some of the knights nearby stiffened at his sharp tone. For someone short, he had quite the intimidating presence.
But Panamera only snorted and brushed it off.
“Viscount Tron, what I hear is that you’d rather sweep the attack on Baron Van under the rug. If it had been your quarters that were assaulted, would you not immediately hunt down the culprits?”
Tron shrugged, shaking his head slowly.
“Viscount Panamera, you may be strong, but you lack the subtlety of a true noble. What I’m saying is this: stop your interrogation here. We will entrust it to Baron Nouveou. He will set up a tent at the rear for questioning. That should put everyone at ease.”
The plump man beside him—apparently Nouveou—nodded silently. Ah, so these were Tron and Nouveou. Good to finally put names to faces.
“…From what you’re suggesting, it almost sounds as though interrogating them deep inside Baron Van’s underground chamber would be fine, doesn’t it? It wouldn’t take half a day. Shall I carry it out there, where no one can overhear?”
Panamera countered with a daring smile. Tron and Nuvo both narrowed their eyes, but neither could immediately respond.
At that moment, the knights gathered behind them suddenly shifted aside. Tron and Nouveou spun around—only to find His Majesty himself approaching, flanked by royal guards.
“What is this commotion?”
The King’s voice was low, edged with irritation. Tron and Nouveou dropped to their knees at once.
“Y-Your Majesty…!”
Tron’s face was visibly shaken as he pressed his forehead to the ground.
The King glanced at him briefly, then turned his gaze toward me.
“Hmm? Oh! Baron Van! Thanks to that marvelous gate of yours, I was able to rest soundly last night. I’d like one built in the capital!”
“I’m glad to hear that. We’ll likely be using it for a while, but if anything comes up, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”
I bowed, giving what sounded suspiciously like after-sales customer support. But the King’s eyes then fell on the bloodied corpse near Panamera.
“…Explain this.”
His gaze sharpened as he addressed Panamera. She sheathed her sword and answered calmly.
“Last night, Baron Van’s quarters were attacked. The Baron dismissed them as mere visitors who couldn’t even break a door, but in truth this was the second attack. As his ally, I could not overlook it, so I captured the attackers.”
The King’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
“What? A second time? In the middle of this campaign, for someone to target the same man twice… I see. Then it must be someone who knows Baron Van is one of our trump cards in this war. No outsider could pinpoint his location so precisely unless they marched with us… Could it be that someone in this kingdom is in league with Yerineta?”
Even as anger flickered in his voice, the King’s reasoning was calm and precise. Tron and Nouveou trembled where they knelt.
The King ignored them for now, focusing again on Panamera.
“So it was you, Viscount Panamera, along with Viscount Tron and Baron Nouveou, who were interrogating the attackers?”
Panamera shook her head.
“No, Your Majesty. Viscount Tron and Baron Nouveou objected to my methods. They insisted that Baron Nouveou conduct the questioning elsewhere, out of sight, and forbade me from intervening.”
“What? Regardless of her methods, Baron Van’s only ally here conducting the interrogation seems perfectly natural to me. What fault is there in that?”
The King frowned deeply. The exchange flowed so smoothly, it felt almost scripted. In fact, it was too perfect—clearly, Panamera had prepared this in advance to corner them.
I glanced at her. She met my eyes with a sly little smile.
…Knew it! She’s reliable, sure, but wow, Panamera is terrifying.
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