Chapter 71
Translator: Vine
Chapter: 71
Chapter Title: Dog's Death (4)
One knight desperately threw himself toward the lord.
"My Lord! Danger!"
Soon, the intricately meshed gears began to turn.
Drrrk- tung!tung!tung!
The automatic ballista spun wildly, spraying arrows in every direction.
With that, the cavalry encircling the carriage turned into porcupines and collapsed one by one.
Drrrk- drrrk-
It lasted only about seven or eight seconds.
The automatic ballista, having expended hundreds of arrows in an instant, slowly came to a halt.
"Wow. Now I get why the Dwarf Bank is the symbol of trust. Who could rob a vault guarded by something like this?"
Lian stuck out his tongue as he surveyed the scene outside the carriage window.
He was freshly reminded that the dwarves' currency hadn't become the continent's standard by accident.
"Ugh... Did we get them all?"
"No. One's still left."
Amid the arrow-riddled corpses strewn about.
One body twitched, and the Lord of Paula emerged from beneath it.
"Grr... Y-You cunning bastards!"
He ground his teeth and struggled to rise.
The attack had wiped out Paula's entire cavalry.
But he hadn't lost everything yet.
Grrrrowl-
The wolf beasts, unscathed despite the arrow barrage, raised their heads.
True to their infamous reputation as northern beasts.
Their thick hides, tough enough to withstand the snowy mountains' chill, had resisted even dwarven craftsmanship.
"I don't care anymore! Tear those damned things apart!"
The Lord of Paula clamped a flute between his teeth and blew fiercely.
Whiii-
But oddly, only a hollow wind sound came from the flute.
"What the hell is this deflating noise...?"
Was it broken, perhaps?
He tapped the flute on his palm and blew again.
Whiii-
Still, no proper sound emerged.
Undeterred, he kept blowing until his face turned beet red.
Wooooh-
Finally, the wolf beasts responded to the feeble flute with howls.
"Good! Get them right—"
But his joy was short-lived.
The wolf beasts suddenly bolted toward the forest.
"What are you doing! Come back! That's an order!"
Whiii- whi- wheek-
He blew frantically on the malfunctioning flute, adding empty wind to the plains.
By then, the monster beasts had vanished from sight.
"Damn it! That blasted magician! Took all that gold and handed me this junk!"
In the end, the Lord of Paula hurled the flute to the ground in rage.
His son's killer was right before his eyes.
The injustice was driving him mad.
This had never happened on the long journey here—why now, at this crucial moment!
"...I see. So that's it."
Sudden realization dawned.
There was only one difference from usual...
"Was it you? I suspected, but the Magician Hunter nickname isn't just for show, is it...?"
The Lord of Paula glared at the carriage, staggering.
Lian, who had been covering his mouth as if mocking him, stepped out and approached.
The moment of facing the enemy he'd longed for had arrived.
Shring-
The Lord of Paula drew his sword from his right hip and aimed it at Lian.
"You. Recognize this sword?"
Lian glanced at it.
As much as the nicked blade, the hilt and crossguard were caked in dried blood.
Not old stains.
"Hmm? We don't deal in swords at our merchant house, so no idea. Expensive one?"
"You bet. Pricier than any sword in the world. It's worth my son's life."
"Oh dear. Too bad. That doesn't fetch much in our market."
It had looked vaguely familiar.
It was the very sword he'd taken as spoils after killing the lord's son.
Then, when the smuggler brothers' younger one backstabbed him and he was dragged off to the slave traders...
He'd lost it with his luggage then.
Somehow, it had ended up there.
'Now I know why he was so sure of my identity.'
No way the lord had let those slave traders live.
He'd probably recovered the sword recently.
His son's belonging found in their abandoned hideout.
And in Madela, where they likely sold slaves, a Bordian slave named the same as his enemy appeared around then.
Connecting the dots to the same person was inevitable.
But even if logical, it was just inference.
Unfortunately, no witnesses remained alive to confirm.
"So what does that have to do with me?"
Thus, Lian decided to deny all the lord's obsession and efforts.
"Shameless cur... Have you forgotten your crime? You really don't remember?!"
"I pride myself on a good memory... Hmm. No clue."
Lian kept feigning ignorance, playing the part.
"You scum! Recall it! Late winter, two years ago! What you did at the windmill!"
"You've been spouting nonsense. Starting to annoy me. Stalling for time?"
Shring-
Lian drew his sword and pointed it at the man.
With eyes as indifferent as spotting a roadside pebble.
His denial shook the Lord of Paula.
"What... You really don't know?"
Had he mistaken his target and lost everything so pointlessly?
If true, it was a farce that would make clowns chuckle.
"No, impossible. You sly fox—trying to trap me again? No! Never!"
"Whoa."
Using the rebound from the downward slash, he aimed for the neck.
But Lian had read it.
He deflected the tip diagonally and stepped back.
His blade slipped into the armpit gap.
"Gahh...!"
The Lord of Paula recoiled.
"Hm? Surrendering after one hit?"
"You... Where did you learn such swordsmanship...?"
"At home."
Pain aside, it was bewildering.
Reading the move, baiting the opening.
Then striking the armor's weak point precisely.
Hard to believe from a serf of two years ago.
"No. Just some tricks he picked up...!"
The Lord of Paula gripped his sword left-handed, resting the blade on his shoulder in high guard.
Maintaining subtle distance, waiting for Lian to attack.
"You're mistaken. This isn't some ordinary swordsman you're facing."
Lian scoffed lightly and extended a finger toward the ground.
A trick?
The lord ignored it, but erred.
A dropped sword flew at him.
"Wha—...!"
Clang!
He deflected it reflexively.
Then his inner arm burned.
Lian's sword was embedded there.
"Arghhh!"
"Feels bad bullying the weak. Let's end it. Agree?"
"You bastard... What are you?! What was that just now?!"
The Lord of Paula was dazed.
He'd heard Magician Hunter Lian wielded magic.
But dismissed as bluff.
No way a lowly serf's blood held such gifts.
Just over two years.
Far too short to cleanse tainted lineage.
This made it seem like...
"You cursed wretch! Everything tied to you meets ruin! Like my son and your hometown!"
"Hold on. What does your son have to do with me? Why bring up my hometown? Who even are you?"
"What...?"
Lian looked down with utterly blank eyes.
As if at a total stranger.
"I'm Adrian, bastard son of Sir Eskin, Lord of Oldmore, and a silver forest shaman. Who do you think I am?"
"Wh-What? Impossible! You're clearly...!"
But the tale rang true enough.
He'd heard of an eastern lord cursed after wronging a woman.
A bastard born from that? Plausible.
"Ah... So that's it? No, can't be...!"
Thunderstruck, pieces fell into place.
Yes, now it made sense.
The new head of Lapis Lazuli Merchant House.
Magician Hunter.
Lian, future governor of Madela—his fame was real.
But not serf-like.
No talent from base blood.
If never a serf to begin with, it all fit...
"Oh! Unbelievable! What folly have I...!"
Chasing a namesake so desperately!
Blinded by revenge, he'd staged this farce.
Despair crashed over the Lord of Paula.
"Ha... Haha...! I'm a clown! What other fool like this exists?! Hahaha!"
"Hah, so that's your deal. Couldn't tell rabbit from wolf? Wasted my time."
Lian's sword flashed once.
The mad lord's laughter ceased.
A play? Or just a con?
"Wow. It actually worked?"
Firka leaned on the window, tongue out, watching Lian.
To crush a grudge-holder with despair by feigning mistaken identity.
What kind of mind came up with that?
"Homework done. Now just head home."
Lian wiped blood from his blade and returned to the carriage body.
"Hey. Feel better now?"
"Hm? About what?"
"This was revenge for you too, right?"
"Dunno. Told you before—no feelings left for my birth parents or hometown."
"Oh. Right."
Yet Lian's face seemed oddly relieved.
Why stage the elaborate con otherwise?
"Anyway, Pablo still out?"
"Ah, coming back."
The two-wheeled front of the carriage returned from afar, solo.
Pablo sat in the driver's seat.
His role: take the horses aside for safe ballista firing.
Detachable wheels? Mandor's modification.
The real coachman sat meekly beside the old wizard.
"Oh my. The auto-ballista packs this punch?"
Pablo marveled anew at dwarven tech.
Just this scene showed the disaster without pre-tampered Dalisi Castle traps.
"But carriage like this—how do we get back to the capital?"
"What else? Reassemble."
"Who?"
"Us."
"Oh..."
Distant rear wheels.
Lone body.
Front brought by Pablo.
Firka stared blankly, eyes shifting.
"Revenge is fleeting..."
"Shut it. Go fetch the rear wheel."
Too late, she wondered if royally loaned carriages could be modded freely.
But gave up thinking.