Chapter 109
Chapter 109
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: EP. 28: Prisoner Ri Han Here (1)
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Clop, clop.
The sound of the mule's hooves striking the ground echoed softly through the quiet forest path.
Unlike those subdued footsteps, the cart it pulled forged ahead through the gravel- and root-strewn road without a hint of resistance.
Watching the mule trek 20 kilometers nonstop, burdened with a heavy load yet showing no signs of fatigue, made it easy to see why merchants of old prized them so highly.
Then, amid the journey.
"-Halt. We'll rest here!"
"Stop!"
"Water the mule."
"Soldiers, finish your meals quickly."
At the gruff men's shouts leading the procession, the mule obediently came to a stop.
And for a moment.
"Ugh... k-kill me..."
"W-water...! P-please, just some water..."
"Guh..."
Yet astonishingly, the once deathly silent forest path now overflowed with human groans.
It was merely that gags—meant for beasts—had muffled their voices.
But did even these faint mutterings grate on the nerves?
"You bastards!!"
Thwack, thwack!
One of the rough-looking escorts—nay, a convoy guard—glared in disgust and clubbed those whimpering ones.
The club was so massive that a poor swing could cripple a man for life, but the guard paid no mind to such risks.
On the contrary.
"Die! Die, you criminal scum!!"
He didn't hesitate to rain blows with all his might.
"Gaaah!"
"Aaaack! Sp-spare...!"
Those being beaten might look like powerless unfortunates, but every young man crying out in pain or frail elder was a vile criminal.
The youth had ruined over ten households with more than a dozen scams; the old man was a rapist.
One who'd preyed on children far younger than himself...
There was no pitying such wretches.
[Criminals have no human rights. If they've made others shed bloody tears, make them bleed from every pore.]
These were the ironclad edict of Pendragon's founding king, the great Knight King.
Criminals, regardless of age, gender, or station, had to be reminded that even their breath was too good for them.
However...
"Hey, rookie. Kill 'em or not, I don't care—but don't touch those over there."
"Why not? They're criminals all the same."
"...Kid, talking back to your superior? You're full of the makings of a troublemaker. Or wait—is this the passionate troublemaker type?"
"S-sorry..."
"No need to apologize... Sigh, whatever. To satisfy our eager rookie's curiosity: those guys are headed to the 'Tunnels.'"
"T-the Tunnels...? You mean..."
At the word "Tunnels," the rookie's face twisted in pity.
Most sent there weren't the utter trash barely worth breathing like these—but folks dragged off on somewhat unfair grounds.
"Don't feel sorry for 'em. Plenty of those killed our soldiers or knights during the war. ...Might be some farmers who rebelled against rotten nobles, too."
"......"
"...This job, you meet all sorts. Don't get emotional. You'll burn out fast."
"......Understood."
But the rookie was green; his poor emotional control showed plainly.
His superior smirked bitterly, as if expecting it—recalling his own rookie days—before glancing at the Tunnel-bound prisoners.
Not with the rookie's mixed feelings, though.
'...Hmm, heard there were knights and some noble's son among this batch. Those guys?'
Word of big fish had piqued his interest.
And there.
'Whoa, those two look jacked. Like living weapons. All knights built like that?'
The prisoners were mostly shirtless in just pants—a precaution against hidden blades.
Naturally, eyes drifted there, and suddenly...
"......!!"
He froze, breathless.
'W-what the hell... H-how is that even human?!'
Beyond the two brutish torsos he'd noted stood a deceptively slender man.
Yet this man exuded something primal, surpassing even those knights' savage physiques.
Muscles? Or was that even the word?
It was like flesh woven from iron chains—muscles alone screamed unbeatable might.
...No, even if everyone here piled on, they'd be helpless.
'Monsters like that exist...'
Awe and vertigo just from looking.
'Good thing he's coming quietly.'
Probably hostages—family or friends—or some backstory keeping him meek.
No other way such a powerhouse would submit.
'...Whatever it is, lucky break. Whew... Huh? Wait, weren't there four knight-level ones?'
As convoy overseer, he knew: 48 Tunnel-bound total, four knights.
But excluding those three...
'Nothing special?'
Of course, you couldn't judge knights by build alone.
Yet with his eyes jaded high, no one else screamed "knight," leaving him scratching his head.
'Did I hear wrong?'
...The guard didn't know.
There were indeed four knights—one with bleached hair...
Nay, filthy gray-dyed locks, like a wild mongrel of a young lord. He was a knight too.
And that knight, Aren de Pendragon, stared blankly.
'......Why me?'
Still denying reality, he glared resentfully at the beast.
The monster who'd dragged him to this hell four days prior.
'Insolent cur...!'
"Keep those eyes wide open."
"......"
"Or I might just pluck 'em out."
"...My eyes face forward only—why the scary talk?"
"......"
"...I'll keep my mouth shut too."
Aren's timid rebellion was swiftly quashed.
A nearby fist trumped distant power.
"-You really went wild."
Sand—no, crumbled brick—trickled down with a gritty patter. Plenty of it.
"...I'll reflect on this one."
"You should. Damaging royal property like this."
The catastrophe from two men's clash.
Believe it? Twenty iron bars utterly shattered in under five minutes.
Yet.
"Your state is a sight."
The fight wasn't even; it was one-sided.
Lee Han's appearance was a mess.
Bruises everywhere, contusions galore.
Anyone'd think he'd tumbled down a hill.
But Lee Han grumbled it'd hurt less rolling down a real slope.
"I took a beating. That guy caught me today and just went berserk."
Clash? More like Baltar pummeled him.
Nay, "pummeled" was polite.
"You know what? These bars and bricks? After pinning me, he grabbed my leg and swung me like a wrecking ball. Treated me like a ragdoll... Man, thought I was dead."
"......"
...And you're amazed you're alive after that?
Isis's face conveyed it, but Lee Han missed it.
"Sigh, here to make me pay? I got no money. Bill that guy. He did the wrecking."
Lee Han was still lounging in the rubble.
No bars left to hold him, but the soldiers' comfy bed made it cozy. No point escaping—just hassles. Effectively self-imprisoned.
Demands on such a guy? Wrong address.
"...Billing Sir Baltar? Every knight in the kingdom would turn on me. Not keen on that novel suicide."
"...He's that big a deal?"
"Heh, only Her Highness's sworn brother treats Sir Baltar like the guy next door. Think he earned 'Great Hero' lightly?"
"Always saw him goofing off."
"He forged his 'Immortal Legend' in youth. Long as he lives, every knight idolizes him. Raised on fairy tales of his feats."
Isis's calm voice held no inflection, no emotion.
A tone venerating Baltar as even the heir would... sublime.
'Sis and that uncle never got along, right?'
Lee Han knew.
That flat voice dripped sarcastic disdain.
'...Same as ever.'
Not details, but rumors swirled: about 25 years back, she'd 'asked' Sir Baltar for support.
Back when she was just 'Princess,' not crown princess...
But who was he?
The man who'd built immortal legends by her age twenty, famed loyal knight sworn only to the late king.
So the end was predictable.
-Don't bother me, Princess. Play house alone.
Word was.
Lee Han'd bet his hair on its truth.
That uncle? He'd say it verbatim.
"Hmph, forget the bars or Silver Lions. Sir Baltar'll handle it."
"......"
"Don't call me petty. Twenty years, fifty—I'll never forget that humiliation."
"...Out of left field. Anyway, you really won't hold me accountable?"
Lee Han had zero interest in their feud; his issues mattered more.
Isis eyed him pettily, but he brazened through. She rubbed her furrowed brow in annoyance.
"...Think they'd dare hold you accountable, knowing shame? Losing to one man shames the order—calling reinforcements they couldn't handle. Mobilizing troops for petty reasons. They've lost on merit and might. If they can't even see their fault and defeat... then they're worthless to keep alive."
"......Harsh words."
"With sincerity."
"......"
"A knight order without honor or grit—do we need it?"
"...Correction: you're the scary one, Sis."
Lee Han shook his head.
Then.
"Remember what I—no, you—asked me to take on?"
"...Yeah."
"Start now."
"Hm..."
"Can you?"
"......"
Lee Han smiled wryly.
She called it a commission, but it was a 'request.'
'Damn, heavy.'
When was it?
He'd drunk tea from the white-haired butler.
Butler said:
-Her Highness often calls herself 'We' or 'I.' Not mere hauteur. Borrowing your words, Sir Lee Han: a mental management technique.
-Who? Sis?
Thought his ears failed.
An innately arrogant soul needing mental tricks? One who'd probably cried "me supreme" at birth.
Yet.
-She's more fragile-hearted than you'd think. But relaxed around allies. Often uses 'I' with you, Sir Lee Han. It was... refreshing to see.
-...Makes me uncomfortable.
The butler's—no, superhuman in butler's guise—explanation. Lee Han had forcibly memo'd it.
Scary folks' words stick weirdly.
Thus he knew: her self-debasement made it a plea, not order.
'Butler, this trust and respect burdens me.'
-Hoho, means you're precious to her, Sir Lee Han.
Lee Han wryly smiled at the replaying voice.
...So.
"...Just handle my kid's thing right, and I'll take any commission. No worries."
"Heh, devoted to your disciple."
"Anyway, this commission—solo?"
"Hm, reliable talents would ease it. Anyone you want?"
"Two. Skilled, trustworthy."
"I can guess."
"You know too much... Oh, right. One more to bring."
"?"
Isis looked puzzled.
Another acquaintance she didn't know?
But no.
Rather.
"Just someone needing... mental re-education."
"......Oh? Well now—."
Bad blood, if anything.
A status untouchable even for Lee Han.
"Music to my ears."
With top royal approval, no one was off-limits.
And now.
"Hahk, haaah..."
"Walk faster. Even the mule's outpacing you."
"I-I'm not a mule...!"
"Huh?"
"......Not a mule, sir!"
"...Consistent little shit."
Arrogant to the end, yet trying to tone it down—hilarious.
The kind of cockiness fun just to watch?
But.
'No laughs from here on, huh?'
The mule's path led to the endgame; Lee Han's smile faded.
'...Blood Cross Legion, was it?'
Insane.
What a joke.
'Did the author read wuxia then write romance fantasy?'
A diehard wuxia fan, he couldn't shake the suspicion this was a Blood Cult knockoff—what with the name.