Karma
Karma
"House Ogatorf... I never imagined ties of that depth would be maintained in the name of the ruined House Levien. Given how far things have fallen, I assumed they'd all wash their hands of it."
The figures kneeling before the man who murmured to himself while staring at the sole lamp illuminating the dim room did not answer. They knew well that the words their master spoke were merely a soliloquy, not a question seeking a reply.
And their judgment was not wrong. The man was admiring his own foresight: the moment he heard that the key figure in this affair—not one of the handful of remaining retainers of the Margrave of Levien—had moved to House Ogatorf, he had ordered that person followed.
At first, he wondered if the lowborn wretch had simply betrayed his master swiftly and boarded a different ship, but judging by these recent movements, there seemed to be a surprising degree of loyalty there. A stubbornness that refuses to back down even against the Noble Council for his master's honor—honestly, he rather liked that.
But what pleased him most was the fact that the information—that after that incident, the man had met with Duke Lesrom, the leader of the Old Nobles Faction—was now in his hands.
He had seized the intelligence before anyone else. That fact alone was deeply satisfying.
Whether he had any concrete thoughts on how to use that information, or whether it was truly useful, was entirely beside the point. It also completely escaped his attention that this story had long been spreading like wildfire through word of mouth among the common soldiers. The nobles and those vulgar creatures could discuss the same matter, but it was a different thing entirely.
Just like a noblewoman who feels ecstasy from the mere fact of being the very first to acquire a trendy accessory, he too was merely savoring such catharsis through information.
"Now then, how shall I wield this sharp knife of a man?"
Those who were not nobles could not attend the trial scheduled for the next day.
There was naturally ample time to approach the person of interest, and he had no intention of missing that opportunity. The man's mind began to fill with calculations on what he should offer to send someone to approach and sweet-talk the target into coming to him.
House Ogatorf posed no worries to him whatsoever. Ekaf's skill—enough to rise to Third Sword among the King's Ten Swords—might be genuine, but that was all. House Ogatorf lived almost like ascetics fixated solely on honor, and while its wealth was certainly not insignificant, it was paltry compared to its fame. In the end, Ekaf was no different from a soldier destined to die on the battlefield.
If Count Bosha's plan succeeded, it was a house that would meet that fate whether they wanted to or not. The daughter of House Ogatorf was considered quite pretty, so she could be used in some way, but Ekaf's loyalty to the royal family and his unrecyclable nature made his elimination a fait accompli.
"Wouldn't he be startled senseless if I gave him just one of the wyverns I keep out in the borderlands?"
His long-held theory was that while nobles may or may not be swayed, lowborn scum didn't move for honor; they moved for money.
And what of himself, by comparison? He could confidently state that his financial power ranked among the top within the New Nobles Faction. The fact that he remained stuck at the rank of baron was simply a matter of being born in the wrong era. Even that would clearly soon be a thing of the past.
It was true that he had suffered a significant loss about two years ago when he lent two wyverns to Viscount Etabil and lost them, but the wyverns he was secretly breeding were still intact.
"To the possessor of the military might that even defeated a Hero and returned, gifting a single wyvern is nothing I can't manage generously."
He was a man of such magnanimity and capability.
Just as he was once again basking in his own considerable talents, his lips curling upward, the sound of someone knocking on the heavy iron door that sealed off this room rang out.
-Knock knock
-Who is it?-
"Huh?"
In that instant, everyone in the room shared the same confusion.
The kind of confusion one has when an insane bastard suddenly appears who knocks on the door and then asks 'who is it' himself.
Just as everyone's gaze turned toward the door in that shared bewilderment.
-KA-BOOM!
"It's me! Me! Me! Me!! Me! Me! Me!"
With a sudden explosion, the iron door crumpled and flew into the room.
"Aaaargh!"
Watching one of his subordinates who was unlucky enough to be in the door's flight path fail to dodge and get smashed in the head, their master still could not comprehend the situation unfolding before his eyes. And it wasn't just him—the same was true for the remaining three who had been reporting the results of their tailing.
"An evening both strong and mighty! If you ask for my name! You don't need to know. I don't introduce myself when I'm about to kill everyone."
Regardless, the person of interest, who had kicked the iron door aside like a sheet of paper as he entered the room, merely muttered an incomprehensible self-introduction.
◈
"N-now, wait! Sir Ega! This is a misunderstanding! You are gravely mistaken...!"
"There's no way there's a misunderstanding with bastards who were dogging my heels like assassins."
I glanced at the one who had been struck by the iron door and collapsed, still unable to rise whether his skull was cracked or not, then cleanly sliced the neck of the man hastily waving both hands to make excuses.
Shadow Foot's map was perfectly accurate, and the time it took me to change back into adventurer's garb and arrive at this location was less than thirty minutes. The place was a basement in one of the buildings in the market street south of the capital... Honestly, it was such a nondescript building that I was a bit bewildered at first. But without losing faith in Shadow Foot, I descended to the basement, kicked the door in, and looked inside to find a truly textbook scene.
A space decorated with the clear vibe of 'a place temporarily procured for secret meetings' greeted me. I briefly wondered whether these fuckers had read too many novels or just had shit for brains, but I decided to empty my own mind too, which made things much more comfortable.
"You wretch!! How dare you insult me, knowing who I am!!"
Just as I was about to finish cutting the rest of their throats, the pot-bellied middle-aged man who had been sitting alone in a chair shot to his feet in a fury.
What's this? A familiar whiff of Rudra's Dog-like bastard coming off this stranger...?
"W-who are you?"
When I pretended to hesitate and asked casually, thinking I might humor him a moment, the pot-bellied man grew even more emboldened and shouted at the top of his lungs.
"I am Dioti da Rubili, close aide to Count Bosha and lord of the Rubili territory!"
"A-and what business is that of mine?"
"What?"
"I said, what business is that of mine!!"
I already had no business with him, and now that I heard the name, I truly had no business here at all.
Without hesitation, I lunged forward and lopped off the pot-bellied man's head.
The ceiling wasn't that high, so the bastard's dome bounced off it once without much trouble before dropping to the floor. The faces of the two future corpses who watched this turned so pale it was clearly distinguishable even in the poorly lit room.
"Huaaghk?!"
"H-he killed the Baron!"
"Do you have time to be that surprised? You're about to die too."
As it happened, those who died first were all men, but I had no particular intention to spare anyone just because they were women. Men and women are equally capable of killing people once they pick up a sword. Even if some stale excuse like 'I was only following orders' came out, I planned to ignore it cleanly.
"Sir Knight! Please! Please, spare my life! I'll tell you anything! I...!"
"I don't think you know more than the Baron did."
I don't make a habit of giving false hope to people who cling to me crying and begging, so I cut her throat as well and approached the last one. But this one reacted differently enough that I had to stop the sword I was about to swing.
"I'll become your spy."
Right up until the one I just killed was alive, this person had been wearing an expression of being utterly lost in terror. But the moment that one died, she suddenly maintained an incredibly composed attitude and began looking straight at me. If it were just words, I would have cut her down on the spot, but the sudden shift in demeanor—almost like a split personality—caught my attention.
"How great a spy could a baron's lackey possibly be?"
"Count Bosha hired me and planted me here as his eyes. If you spare my life, I'll betray him."
"That story is too convenient. Don't you think the damage from it being a lie is greater than the benefit from it being true? You'd betray so easily with your life on the line?"
"That is because of the limitations of the contract Count Bosha made with us."
"Us? Contract?"
Perhaps deciding that showing through action was quicker than explaining with words, she cautiously raised both hands to cover her face, then slowly lowered them.
"What the...?"
And with that, the woman's face had changed into one completely different from just a moment ago!
"Divine Power?"
I had kept my senses expanded by channeling Magic Power in case she tried any bullshit, but the fact that I felt nothing meant she was either a monster that could change its appearance or a worshipper of a god who granted that kind of power.
Naturally, in this current situation, the latter was far more likely. It's not that such monsters don't exist at all, but those things can't speak.
"I don't know how you recognized it, but you are correct. I am a Servant of the Dream."
Unlike the woman, who spoke as if I should naturally know her identity, I had to turn the memories in my head upside down and shake them out before I finally managed to find something resembling what she'd mentioned.
Long ago, while looking into the countless faiths across the continent, I had once skimmed past some content about a religion whose god's authority allowed them to alter their appearance. I glossed over it so cursorily that at the time I thought, 'What, do they run some sort of fantasy plastic surgery clinic?'—but it seemed they had found a different way to make money by utilizing their specialty.
"Contracts that stake our lives are expensive. And there is a significant financial difference between those that include that condition and those that don't. Count Bosha hired me more cheaply and assigned me to a place he believed would pose absolutely no threat to my life."
"And that was the potbellied old man?"
"Exactly. He was someone who... would never face a threat of this nature, thoroughly preoccupied with protecting himself. Fleeing before a threat was also part of the contract, but... I judged that escape was impossible."
This is a pain in the ass.
If I killed her, this Bosha bastard would probably notice when no reports came in. If I let her live, I couldn't trust a creature who betrayed people at the drop of a hat.
But even so, to think he'd carelessly stick personnel who can sell information and betray without a second thought like this... The crimes he's committed are so extensive that it feels inconsistent.
Maybe that ability lets her slip out of most tight spots anyway?
"Let's say I don't kill you. How long would it take for this mess to become known to them?"
"If I do not report it, they will not know unless someone nearby files a report."
"Your basis for that?"
"Baron Rubila, out of vanity, loved to move in secret. He was immersed in the delusion that he held sway over the underworld's information networks. But separate from such delusions, he dedicated genuine effort into using his overflowing wealth to create such hideouts and move in secret. This place is the same. It is known that such a location exists, but it cannot be known specifically whether Baron Rubila is here in this place."
"...At what intervals were you supposed to report?"
"......Every four days."
The delay in that final answer probably meant she was afraid I might calculate the time, decide killing her posed no problem, and swing my sword.
To be treated like such a thug was slightly unpleasant, but given the situation, the kind-hearted me will let it slide.
"You're coming with me for now."
It was a conclusion drawn from the half-assed faith that if nothing else, Lord Ekaf might be able to find some use for her once I brought her in, but it was the best judgment I could make right now.
Even if I can't use her as a double agent, there's bound to be plenty of information to extract, right?
As I sheathed my sword and made this declaration, the woman let out a sigh of relief that didn't quite match her impassive expression.