Chapter 703: Both Sides Used Him
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 703: Both Sides Used Him
Alexandra had a habit of tormenting her opponents during sparring.
When Odinkar got absorbed in a fight, he couldn't tell the difference between practice and a life-or-death struggle. Grida, on the other hand, suffered from face blindness.
Rynox possessed a similar sort of deficiency.
He lacked the ability to judge which side he should stand on. Or, more accurately, his backside would itch with restlessness if he didn't act exactly as he pleased.
An incident from his youth, back when he wandered the continent as a mercenary, served as an excellent anecdote illustrating this peculiar habit.
"Why are you standing over there?"
Rynox had answered his ally from the day before with utter confidence.
"Ah, I decided to play for this side starting today."
"What? You crazy bastard! Even for a mercenary sold for Krona, don't you have any professional ethics?"
"Ah, whatever."
By turning a deaf ear, Rynox had nearly driven the onlookers to death with sheer frustration. Naturally, he didn't care.
He had been an ally yesterday and an enemy today, having switched his allegiance over a mere few drinks.
A more personal reason, known only to Rynox himself, was that there was a fellow he liked on the enemy side. After clashing blades once, he realized the man was simply too good to kill.
So, he switched sides.
It was a dispute between nobles over land, and in the end, this stunt drove the opposing noble to lose his mind, overextend his budget, and hire a famous mercenary band.
One could say anger had slapped the face of reason.
Hearing of this, the first noble refused to be outdone and hired a mercenary band of similar scale. Thus, a light skirmish between barely ten men escalated into a massive battle.
The conclusion was truly disastrous. It ended with the ruin of both nobles.
One side ran out of Krona to pay their mercenaries, while the conscripted peasants of the other side staged a rebellion.
This wouldn't have been an issue if Rynox or his mercenary band had stepped in to suppress it, but since the fight was practically over anyway, he saw no reason to bother and simply pulled out.
It wasn't for nothing that Rynox had earned the moniker "Destroyer."
While it was primarily because his specialty lay in dismantling techniques, it was also a nickname born from his tendency to occasionally bring utter catastrophe to any situation he touched. Because of this, he had once been saddled with the unpleasant title: The Mercenary Who Could Always Become Your Enemy.
At any rate, for these reasons, Rynox never made decisions himself. That was why he was not a Pioneer. He was one who did not walk his own path, but merely followed after watching others.
Since he knew that acting on a whim only led to ruin, he also knew he could never become a Clan Head.
His current question was a reflection of his life and character. Once the situation is explained, the Clan Head makes the decision. That was Rynox's cognitive structure.
And the words that came out of the Clan Head's mouth were: "Let's fight."
Meanwhile, a fierce voice rang out from the divided crowd.
"Are you saying my father did that?"
Whoosh. The pouring rain drowned out part of the voice, but not enough to make it inaudible.
The reason House Zaun had split into two feuding factions was simple—or perhaps, rather complex. One side consisted of the friends of those who had been victimized by Hescal. The other side consisted of those who believed Hescal could never do such a thing.
It showed just how much devotion Hescal had poured into them over the years; even when faced with the truth, they refused to believe it.
While the two factions directed their murderous intent at each other, something in the sky began to writhe. It coalesced into a mass, moving in an artificial pattern to form what resembled a giant human face.
What on earth is this?
Intrigued, Encrid's head tilted upward. As the rain lashed against his eyes, he squinted at the sky, where the massive face hovering overhead spoke.
"O bearers of the curse. I shall welcome you into my embrace. Leave that place at once and seek the light. Those who do shall live and obtain what they desire."
A spell. And a threat.
Encrid felt an overwhelming presence. It was only natural; a head larger than a military training ground had suddenly materialized overhead and started talking. Furthermore, the sheer weight of the Will carried by those words made his skin tingle.
Swoosh.
On top of that, a clumsy trick was slipped in. While everyone's attention was fixed on the floating head in the sky, a dark shadow suddenly rose behind the Clan Head.
All four of them reacted instantly.
Encrid stepped aside, the Clan Head twisted his waist and swung his elbow, and Rynox thrust with an open palm. Alexandra's sword left and returned to its sheath faster than anyone else's.
The rain muffled sounds, masked scents, and dulled the senses. In that brief window, a Scaler had attempted an assassination.
It was a creature with red scales interspersed among its black ones. While not a named monster, it appeared to be a unique specimen—a monster that had undergone either evolution or metamorphosis.
Thwack!
The Clan Head's elbow slammed into the head of the creature, whose neck had already been pierced by Alexandra's blade. The struck beast flew through the air like a kite with its string cut and crashed to the ground.
Thud, crash!
After rolling a few times, the monster writhed and stood back up.
It can still stand after taking a hit like that?
Its vitality was extraordinary.
Rynox was the one to finish it. Retracting the hand he had thrust into the empty air, he glided in front of the beast.
"And what are you supposed to be?"
As he spoke, he drew a thin-bladed sword and cleanly severed its punctured neck. With a wet slice, the decapitated head rolled through the rainwater. The sword returned to its sheath with terrifying speed.
"Tsk."
Rynox shook his hand in the air. Having sparred with him before, Encrid could tell that Rynox's current condition was far from normal. The fact that the area injured by Hescal had turned black indicated symptoms of poisoning. It was taking a toll on him.
"That bastard said my symptoms would worsen severely over the next two days. On top of that, I got scratched by his poisoned sword. The crazy prick actually coated his own imprinted weapon in poison."
An imprinted weapon was a blade imbued with a knight's Will. To coat such a thing in poison? If he hadn't used poison from the very beginning but resorted to such a tactic just to win, it would normally damage his Will.
Yet, he had done it anyway.
It was enough to make anyone wonder what was going on inside Hescal's head. Encrid felt the same way.
And guessing the answer didn't seem all that difficult.
The events up to this point stacked neatly in his mind. His intellect used that foundation to organize everything he had seen and heard.
Schmidt came from the Empire, and he has no hidden agenda.
But Hescal must have used him—as if to urge them to board the same ship as the Empire. One could tell just by looking at Schmidt's expression right now. He looked like a man who had gone out for a picnic to smell the flowers, only to step squarely in horse manure. He was furious at this completely unexpected turn of events.
Using the name of Schmidt to sow confusion.
It was a simple scheme, but easy to fall for if one was ignorant. In truth, it only seemed simple in hindsight; when Encrid had first witnessed it, even he had wondered if it was some trick of the Empire.
Hescal manages those traveling between the three villages and even moves personally.
Therefore, it would have been easy for him to catch wind of Odinkar or Magrun's return. Along the way, he would have also heard that Encrid, Anne, and Ragna had joined them.
Why did he target Anne?
That was not Hescal's doing. He had merely lent a hand.
Hescal was the one who cleared the path and guided the direction, but it wasn't what he truly desired.
Encrid had seen his swordsmanship. The meticulousness displayed in his swordplay suggested that his strength lay in using his head. Therefore, the one who truly desired this was either a mage or a shaman.
He has a shaman and a mage under his command. Or perhaps they are his accomplices.
Hescal had not left coincidence to mere chance. Having come this far, Encrid finally understood. He himself had been used by the man without even realizing it.
He made the Clan Head suspect me.
Ragna, returning after several years, suddenly demanded Sunrise. The Clan Head and his wife, well aware of the current crisis, could not possibly hand over Sunrise right away. And so, suspicion arose. Could Encrid of the Border Guard be the hidden backer targeting House Zaun? It was a highly plausible suspicion.
To outsiders, the Border Guard was a faction that had suddenly sprung out of nowhere. To the uninitiated, it would look as though Naurilia was revealing its hidden forces, much like how Azpen had concealed its knightly strength.
Indeed, Naurilia had hidden a dagger.
One's thoughts could easily conclude in such a manner.
House Zaun possessed power—enough power that Schmidt, a recruiting officer from the Empire, had personally come to deliver a message. House Zaun must have always rejected the summons of those who demanded their strength. At times they would have resorted to force, and at other times they would have compromised. Because such incidents had repeated, they had become hyper-sensitive to the intentions of any armed group hiding its true motives.
Hescal must have exploited that point to subtly sow mutual suspicion.
He deliberately showed Grida the traces of monsters as well.
What had Hescal been doing in the shadows all this time? Buying time. In other words, the same tricks they had suffered on their way to House Zaun were being played on them here as well.
That stings.
He had been thoroughly played. Would they have avoided this if Krais or Abnayor had been here? He didn't know.
Alright, he understood Hescal's line of thinking now. It was to buy time. The ultimate goal remained unknown, beyond speculation.
Then what about the Clan Head?
According to Anne, the Clan Head had even postponed his treatment. It was more accurate to say he had refused a diagnosis. His words at the time had been, "Not right now."
Anne was the only one who had heard it, and she had shared those words only with him and Ragna. Ragna had heard it firsthand while protecting her, but even if he hadn't, she had no one else to talk to besides the two of them anyway.
Anne had gone around poking her nose into everything, claiming she had come to cure an illness, not a curse. Though no one spoke of it, everyone seemed somewhat uncomfortable. An outsider suddenly arriving and asking how much someone had been coughing...
It probably looked like she was insulting the healer, Milestia.
Clever.
The Clan Head had conveyed the words "not right now" to either him or Ragna. He had delivered the message through Anne, utilizing his own failing health.
Was it a message that now was not the time to take Sunrise? Or was it a plea to wait, regardless of their purpose for coming here?
Realizing it only now felt a bit late, but since the phrase "not right now" had kept prompting various thoughts in his mind, it was safe to say the Clan Head's intention had worked.
This was the final conclusion.
The Clan Head was waiting for this too.
Odinkar had expressed his frustration at facing a veiled enemy on their way here.
The Clan Head felt the same. He wanted the enemy to show themselves.
Knowing that leaving things alone would only cause them to fester and eventually burst, he had wanted to draw out the internal enemy as quickly as possible.
The Clan Head had used Encrid as well. He had recognized the renown of Encrid of the Border Guard and Ragna's skill. He must have also ensured Anne faced no discomfort while wandering around the estate. Even if it wasn't visible on the surface, he had protected them.
He even had Alexandra teach me.
The reason? It was a sign that they were allies. If they were enemies, there was nothing to be done, but if Encrid had indeed arrived at this timing by mere coincidence...
This side didn't leave coincidence to mere chance either.
He had pulled the rolling stone that had suddenly intruded as close to his side as possible, so that whoever held it would gain even the slightest advantage.
In this manner, the Clan Head had forced the enemy, Hescal, to reveal himself. Meanwhile, Hescal had dragged out the time to seize the moment he desired. In essence, the Clan Head had been engaged in a battle of wits with an invisible enemy for several years.
"These people, honestly..." Encrid muttered.
Meanwhile, the face floating in the air spoke shamelessly, despite having just sent a Scaler to kill them.
"Does adding a mere two swordsmen and a young girl change anything, Tempest Zaun?"
Seeing what the Clan Head did next, Encrid let out an involuntary chuckle.
The Clan Head raised his clenched fist toward the sky and extended his middle finger. Yes, he flipped the giant face off.
Though cultures varied across the continent, the gesture carried the exact same meaning for everyone present. It basically meant "shut up and piss off."
It was a gesture that was highly mismatched with his solemn expression.
The Clan Head wasn't hiding his emotions. Encrid finally realized this now.
"Grida has face blindness, and Alexandra has a disease where she breaks out in hives if she doesn't torment people during sparring."
"I'm not that bad," Alexandra chimed in from the side, but this was the sort of thing others could see much better.
"Just as Magrun can't hold back his venomous tongue, you simply don't know how to express your emotions."
The Clan Head nodded at Encrid. The emotion he had shown toward Ragna earlier must have been genuine. The worry was real, and so was the joy.
Rumble!
A bolt of lightning struck, far grander in scale than before. Dozens of white streaks of light branched out overhead, tearing through the face that had appeared in the sky. As the lightning ripped through the image, only the pitch-black storm clouds remained.
Only then did Ragna emerge from inside and ask, "There was some half-wit targeting Anne, so I went and sliced him up. What's going on?"
Encrid spat out a simple answer. "A fight."
Ragna nodded. Though not overtly obvious, there was a subtle hint of anticipation in his nod. If it were anything else, he was the type of guy who would just let it go in one ear and out the other with a dry "Is that so?"
For some unknown reason, he had looked somewhat frustrated lately, as if suffering from pent-up dissatisfaction. It seemed like it might explode into anger, yet he also appeared to be holding it in well.
Conclusion: at any rate, that bastard was also itching for a fight.
I'm not quite that bad, Encrid thought to himself, feeling a surge of excitement at the prospect of refuting what the floating face had said earlier.
A mere two swordsmen, indeed.
Just how far did the boundaries of that "mere" extend? It was well worth exploring.
Of course, while there was a mountain of work to do before that, the immediate priority would be stopping the crowd in front of them, who looked ready to tear each other to pieces.