Chapter 447
Chapter 447
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 447
Chapter Title: Chapter 21. Into the Storm (6)
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“Uwaaaaaah!”
“Stay put and wait here.”
“Auoooooh!!!”
“The lord will interrogate you personally—”
“Grrrrraaaaaah!!!!”
“...”
“We weren’t ordered to torture you or anything.”
“Who the hell names a dungeon ‘the front yard’ anyway?”
A wail like flesh being torn from bone. It came from an elf betrayed by hope.
The knight had said he was taking us to the lord’s castle ‘front yard,’ but what reason would there be to drag prime spy suspects to a garden full of flowers and trees? It wasn’t like we were there for tea.
The ‘front yard’ the knight mentioned was a nickname for the Wind Hall castle’s underground dungeon. Word was, the lord came down here to toy with the prisoners whenever he got fed up with his workload. Probably where the name came from.
Whatever the reason, our tree-addicted elf had been hauled to a place with nothing but cold stone instead of soft soil and fresh air. In his utter despair, he was howling loud enough to rupture eardrums.
“Hmm. Isn’t there a real garden or something outside?”
“This isn’t some rotting city where they’d indulge in that kind of unproductive luxury.”
“We’re in trouble. Once an elf’s mentality cracks, it doesn’t recover easily. If we leave him like that, he’ll cry himself to exhaustion.”
“Uwaaaaaaaaah—!!!!!!! ”
“...This isn’t good.”
The elf’s bloodcurdling wails pierced the air at just the right moment, and the knight looked genuinely troubled. Watching from the side, a sly grin crept onto my lips.
‘He looks more flustered than I expected... The lord must want us kept nice and intact?’
Our current situation was like walking a razor’s edge. They were convinced we were Warlord spies, and in normal circumstances, intruders caught in the city wouldn’t be tucked away in a cozy, quiet dungeon. Usually, it’d be the torture chamber, and with four of us, one or two would end up on the gallows as an example right away.
But here we were, politely escorted to the dungeon. The knight—who seemed to take orders straight from the lord—was concerned about our well-being, and this spot at the far end of the dungeon had no guards, just the knight and our group. That meant the lord of Wind Hall had taken my request for a place ‘without listening ears’ very seriously.
‘The lord is parched for Warlord intel!’
Which meant the bait I’d tossed was even juicier than I’d imagined.
“Auuuugh! Uuuuuugh!!! ”
‘...First things first, I need to do something about Tarimus.’
“Hey, knight.”
“Berkut Rahad. Call me Knight Rahad.”
“Yeah, sure, noble knight sir. Among the confiscated items, there was a small sapling. Could you toss it into that elf’s cell? Before he dries up and keels over.”
“Your personal belongings are being inspected by the territory’s mages and magitech engineers. Until they’re deemed free of danger—”
“Uwaaaaaaaaah!!!! ”
“...Then take him to the lord like that. You dragged us here because there’s stuff you want to hear from us, right? Give it ten minutes, and he won’t even be able to hold a pen, let alone talk.”
“...I’ll prioritize the inspection and send it down as soon as it’s done. In the meantime, try to calm him.”
True to his knightly nature, Berkut sprang into action once he had his orders. The sound of his plate boots faded away, leaving just our group, each locked in separate cells, in the damp dungeon.
“Hey, Tarimus. You can stop crying now.”
“Sniff, hic, ughhh....”
“Look, he’s gone. I can’t sense his aura anymore—it’s way up above!”
“I-I know, but it’s not easy. The tears won’t stop. I just imagined rooting into the soil like a tree....”
“You really believed it? I told you the ‘front yard’ wasn’t what you thought.”
“B-But what if? These western empire nobles have different culture from Tel Drat territory. They might actually plant trees and make a garden. I held onto that tiny hope.... Sniff.”
Of course, Tarimus wouldn’t lose it this badly just from being separated from a tree for a bit. If he did, he couldn’t have worked as a salvager. You can’t carry saplings into the deep sea.
The key point was that while Tarimus wasn’t that extreme, plenty of elves had tree addictions just as severe. Plus, with the world tree’s death, their numbers had dwindled, making them rare. Stories of their pathological love for trees had spread into urban legends.
We’d exploited that prejudice by asking Tarimus to cry a bit, buying us time alone in a guardless dungeon. Well, except Tarimus was still stuck in the mental image of his ‘front yard’ from the acting exercise.
“Tarimus.”
“Sniff, grrrr....”
“Moss is growing in the corner of your cell.”
Rustle!
“Ooh, oooh! What vitality!!!!”
Knew it. I’d spotted it on the way in. This area was perfect for edible moss farms. They mass-produced enough to feed the whole city, so it wasn’t weird for the same stuff to grow in a humid, dark dungeon.
As Tarimus snapped out of it with a cheer, the rest of our group pressed against the bars from their scattered cells.
“We actually made it inside the castle without red-hot pokers or whippings.”
“Told you. In these intangible deals, the desperate side always plays nice. From how they’re treating us, the Warlord’s blown way out of proportion here in the western empire—like a boogeyman in the closet.”
“Ugh. It’s not exaggeration. Egwil still shows up in my nightmares.”
“...Like an unknown terror. Anyway! They see us—folks who’ve directly contacted, talked to, and whatever else with that guy—as a golden chance to glimpse an enemy we can’t even fathom. They won’t grill us like regular spies, feeding us rice mixed with severed fingers. We’re too valuable for that rough stuff.”
“Th-That’s a relief to hear.”
Isena sounded shocked, like she’d only imagined standard beatings and burns.
“Don’t let your guard down yet. If we just play spy and spill Warlord info, once the lord’s heard it all, he’ll go, ‘Good story. Now let’s verify if it’s true,’ and drag us to the torture room.”
“Cough!”
“Huh?”
Why the shock? No lord’s dumb enough to take a spy’s word at face value. They’ll ask once when you’re fresh, then beat and break you and ask again. Only if it matches both times do they buy it as real.
“So, until the sapling inspection’s done and the knight comes back with the lord—that brief window—we need to polish our story. Something that sounds true without needing torture or verification, and makes hurting us feel like a loss.”
“H-How?”
.
.
.
.
“...Well?”
Riiing!
A claw swiped through the air from the opposite cell. Yeah, she was pissed. But seriously, no explaining this. I’ve just always been good at it since I was a kid.
‘From the gate to the guard barracks: 230 steps. Barracks to inner castle: 500. Inner castle to dungeon: about 400.’
Knight Berkut didn’t seem the type to sprint. Confiscation happened at the barracks, so brisk walking: 7-8 minutes. Add inspection time, audience with the lord, escorting him back: a few more.
“About 15 minutes bought. Three minutes gone already.”
“So, anything you noticed on the way here, or intel on the city—spill it quick, folks?”
“Uh, noticed? Not really....”
“Streets we passed, people, even a random rock—everything. I’ll filter it.”
Eleven minutes left. Ten, conservatively.
Ten minutes to craft a tale to fool the lord holding our lives in his hands.
“Ten minutes.”
Plenty of time for a quick nap.
****
Clank clank clank clank.
Thud thud thud thud.
“Gwaaaaaaaaah!!!! ”
...Click.
“Knight Berkut.”
“Yes.”
“I recall ordering you not to mistreat the prisoners.”
Lord Gideon Glenn grimaced at the screams echoing not just through the dungeon but up the stairs. These were valuable intel sources—he’d ordered caution. What torture were they using to produce such horrific shrieks?
“You’re not the type to twist such a simple command.”
“As you say, we haven’t handled them harshly. I even pulled the guards and soldiers, so no one’s tormenting them.”
“Then what’s that noise?”
“...The elf.”
“Elf? Ah, their infamous racial ailment. So that’s why you brought the tree.”
“Yes. It was worse than the tales—vicious and severe. I feared the spy would pass out, so I brought the elf’s personal item.”
“...I see. My stubbornness made an honorable knight run errands. My apologies.”
“No need, my lord. Given the sensitivity, we can’t be too careful with security.”
Clang!
Screeeeech—
The dungeon door opened with the loyal knight’s words. Amid the anguished cries, human presences were clear.
‘A gift from the heavens.’
A once-in-a-lifetime chance. Without the late emperor’s spirit blessing us, how else would it walk right in?
Lord Gideon Glenn recalled the tale from the gate guards hours ago.
=========
‘...You’ve been sworn in, however briefly. Know that if lies pass your lips, there’s no mercy.’
‘I-It’s true, my lord! They’re definitely Warlord spies!’
‘They toyed with us—trained knights—like children! No ordinary foes!’
‘Four unknowns with no continental liner records. Drifted on currents, highly skilled, headed straight for Storm Hill without rest....’
‘Yes! The most suspicious bastards! They demanded [Tell us everything about the western empire!] right off!’
‘A-And! They let us go with this message: [Guards aren’t worthy. Prepare a place with fewer ears.] ’
‘...Will you stake your lives on this being true?’
‘I-It’s real, my lord! Believe us!’
‘W-We stake our lives!’
=========
When he heard the swollen-faced guards, how he’d steadied his breath to maintain noble dignity.
‘Warlord. The enemy general from rumors—right in front of me!’
Tensions between loyalists and traitors among the knights grew daily. Without the hardline Mutes holding them back, city wars would’ve erupted. Into this balance seeped the Warlord’s soul mages.
‘...Can’t speak around guards. Needs a place with fewer ears.’
Extreme caution. Wind Hall might harbor other Warlord spies. Collusion exposed meant death.
‘He doesn’t trust even the guards—wants to tell me directly. Ultra-wary, yet risking spy status for this message.’
What could it be? Why did these Warlord scouts demand a private audience?
Whatever it was, no trifle. With reports of traitor fortress cities allying with Warlord, their intel was priceless.
Perhaps enough to borrow a Master Knight from the Silver Lion Order.
Thud thud thud thud—
“My lord, in case they ambush you—”
“That’s why they’re locked up unarmed.”
Anticipation quickened his steps.
First: a bizarre beastkin with green scales and fur at the joints.
“Grrr! Grraa—! Let us go, human!”
Aggressive. Not the type to twist a message for subtlety.
Next, a troll.
“Ugh. Egwil hungry.”
“...This one?”
“Troll, my lord. Confirmed: no shaman tattoos, just a plain physical specimen.”
“Must’ve been a headache back home.”
Troll shaman prestige spread their customs. A troll without even dust of innate shamanism. Opposite of saga shamans, dumb as it looked.
And....
“Uwaaaaaah!!! Auuuuuugh!!!! ”
“...Too loud. Give it back.”
“Yes.”
The elf wailed beastlike through puffy eyes. Handed a small pot, it grinned idiotically. No way this elf sent the secretive invite.
‘That leaves one.’
Deepest cell. Last in the line of solitary rooms: a man.
“You—the one who wants intimate words with me.”
“...Forgive my lack of prostration, my lord. I serve another.”
“Bars between us— that’s lenient enough.”
‘Bingo.’
The lord was certain. Feigned calm but anxious eyes darting around. Resolved gaze. Calculating words.
‘This one’s Warlord’s agent. The other three are limbs.’
“I—”
“No need to explain. I’ve guessed.”
The lord cut him off, pleased at reading the man’s psyche.
“Something vital beyond Warlord’s orders for me. Something leaky enough to risk your necks.”
“...No choice but Wind Hall, but you’re sharp.... Lucky me.”
The man bowed again.
“Hyde. As you say, Warlord’s servant, crossed to the western continent on his command.”
“If you’re not begging the noose, there’s more.”
The lord noted venom in ‘Hyde’s’ eyes at the veiled threat.
“...Do what you must. Just hear me out fully!”
“I’ll listen and judge.”
Hyde rose. The lord stopped the knight.
“He’s.... mad.”
“The Warlord—that madness-soaked Shardknight—plans to absorb all life in the world into himself!”
Lord and knight alike were riveted by the spy’s fevered tale.
Unaware of the grin creeping across his lips.
****