The Youngest Son of the Notorious Upstart Family (5)

"Hehehe, what a relief. Things went far more smoothly than I expected."

The road home felt lighter after we set down the massive load of baggage. Dorf wore a broad grin the entire way, like a salesman who had just closed the deal of a lifetime. In his hand he carried a rather luxurious sheet of parchment that showed surprisingly little wear. According to him, it was a copy of one of the Baldwin family’s secret techniques.

"Secret technique or not, at the end of the day it’s still just a method for handling mana. A few true great houses with centuries of history may possess special arts that only their blood can wield, but unless it’s something like that, it’s ultimately just knowledge. Sharing it doesn’t make it disappear. We traded that for enough food to feed the entire territory for ten years. I’d call that a rather excellent bargain, wouldn’t you?"

Certainly, when you compared knowledge that could be copied indefinitely with physical assets, the logic held. Of course, that was only if you ignored the nobles’ characteristic pride and the advantage of monopolizing information no one else possessed.

In that sense, the Empire is the strange one—nationalizing nearly every secret art except for a handful and even founding institutions to research and improve them.

Passing knowledge down in secret within a family certainly prevented enemies from learning countermeasures. Yet because only a tiny number of people ever touched it, progress was painfully slow unless a true genius appeared to refine the techniques. It was no accident that the Empire had reigned as the dominant power for decades.

"More importantly, are you sure this is all right? It feels like we’ve earned a mountain of grudges."

"Hehehe, no need to worry, Young Master Chrome. Lord Baldwin is a wise man."

Dorf continued with his trademark sly smile.

"As you saw earlier, they cannot possibly lay a hand on us. The moment their food supply is cut, the people will starve. The territory army that’s ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠barely holding itself together will collapse on its own."

"What about asking the royal family or other noble houses for help?"

"The new royal family has terrible relations with the houses that still pine for the old one. The nobles friendly with the new regime won’t move, and those close to the old royal family are too busy minding their own crumbling affairs to involve themselves in something that offers them no benefit. If there’s any real possibility, it would be the remnants of the anti-Empire faction."

But, Dorf added.

"The instant they join hands with them, the Baldwin family will be branded as traitors and terrorists. The new royal family would have every justification to send their regular army and wipe them out. If that good-natured lord were the sort to gamble everything on such a desperate move, he never would have come this far in the first place."

"Hmm."

It made sense. Logically, there wasn’t a single hole in Dorf’s reasoning. And yet the uneasy feeling refused to leave me.

If everyone in the world were that rational and reasonable, the world wouldn’t fall apart every other week.

Even with magic and mana, this place was still inhabited by people. Why would it be any different here?

"Dorf, just in case—tell the men to tighten security around us—"

—KYAAAAAK!!!

—It’s an ambush!

…Damn it all.

"You worthless bastards!! Where the hell did these fucking dogs crawl out from?!"

The scene ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠visible beyond the carriage door was far from encouraging. At a glance there were slightly more than ten visible attackers, but the ambush site was a narrow path flanked by dense bushes on both sides. There was no telling how many more were hidden. The coachman and the laborers who had been moving the carts froze after the first fool who approached too closely had his throat torn open in a fountain of blood. They weren’t fighting—they were simply shaking where they stood.

Every one of the masked assailants moved with sharp, precise efficiency. The Brown Wolf Mercenary Company, centered around Captain Clark, was fighting back, but aside from Clark himself the rest could only barely hold their own by ganging up two or three against a single attacker.

Enough skill to overwhelm veteran mercenaries in a head-on fight. No matter how well they hid their faces, they couldn’t conceal the disciplined precision of their movements. Identifying them was easy.

"You morons…! What’s the point of touching us now?!"

While Dorf muttered in a daze, one of the large guards assigned to protect him stepped forward.

"Acting lord, what are your orders?"

Dorf’s reply was immediate. He had already noticed the encirclement ahead was not particularly thick.

"Focus on breaking through! We escape first, even if it’s only us!"

"Wait, hold on—"

Whether I was stunned or not made no difference. At Dorf’s command the guards leaped onto the driver’s seat and inside the carriage, whipping the horses into motion. The masked men tried to block the road, but they faltered when the guards hurled daggers and stones at them, and the carriage smashed straight through the gap.

I could hear the laborers and mercenaries shouting behind us, but the carriage never slowed.

"Stop ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the carriage right now!!!"

"This is no time to worry about those left behind! Once we clear the forest path—"

I shouted at Dorf, who still seemed to be treating me like a child who couldn’t grasp the situation.

"You dense idiot! The people who ambushed us were clearly aiming for us from the start—there’s no way they’d leave the encirclement this sloppy!!!"

The very next instant, a heavy impact threw my body into the air. The world spun wildly. The screams of horses and the sound of something shattering filled my ears one after another.

THUD!!!

"Guh!"

Dorf had become a human cushion between me and the overturned carriage roof. The air rushed out of his lungs in a pathetic wheeze, but thanks to him I escaped without serious injury.

One of the guards riding with us had landed badly; his neck was twisted at an unnatural angle. The other clutched his left ankle, gasping and writhing—clearly a fracture. Dorf, who at least still had all his limbs, seemed to have fainted. Even when I slapped his cheek he only breathed, showing no response.

"Ah, for fuck’s sake…!"

Frustrated, I crawled out through the half-open carriage door. At the edge of the forest path I saw a thick rope stretched at roughly knee height. Whether they had planned to lure us here from the beginning or had set the trap as insurance, we had walked right into it.

The guards who had been on the driver’s seat were now sprawled on the ground with knives buried in their throats by different masked men. The last remaining one stared silently in my direction.

One was already bad enough. Three? This was insane. In any decent story the proper development would be for only one to remain, then get taken out by the protagonist’s surprise counterattack.

My mind kept freezing from fear and anxiety. I filled it with random nonsense to push the tension down. One of the masked attackers finally spoke.

"Don’t do anything stupid. Stay still."

I answered, utterly dumbfounded.

"Even an earthworm twists when you step on it. What kind of dog-barking nonsense is ‘stay still while I come to slit your throat’?"

"…Filthy-mouthed brat."

The man continued.

"Unlike the others, you have value as a hostage. Cooperate quietly and I’ll guarantee your life."

"Hostage, hostage, huh."

I rolled the word around on my tongue.

A hostage situation only worked when the hostage held real worth. I was probably worth a hefty ransom, but the real question was whether the family head would obediently negotiate. No matter how I looked at it, the answer was no. He would simply think he could always have another child. Besides, there was no guarantee the man was telling the truth. If I approached in good faith and took a knife in the back, it would be game over without even a struggle—second round complete. Whether a third round would be granted was anyone’s guess.

Therefore, my answer was already decided.

"—So the next lord wants to change careers into a kidnapper?"

The instant the man’s body gave a tiny flinch, I bolted. I poured every ounce of strength into my legs and sprinted into the thick underbrush.

The sound of something being swung with ferocious force and the thud of it striking came at the same time. A fragment of something grazed my earlobe, leaving a burning sensation. I had no time to check the wound or look back.

All I could do was run, trusting that the dense forest full of obstacles would favor the smaller body.

My body, raised in comfort, was nutritionally healthy but sorely lacked conditioning. My breath reached my throat after only a short sprint, and my heart hammered as if it would explode.

No shouts to stop or curses came from behind me—only the relentless sound of feet crushing grass and fallen leaves. The race between me reaching the companions left in the forest first or the enemy catching me was decided quickly.

Thud.

"…!!!"

I caught my foot on a protruding ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠rock and pitched forward. There was no time to break my fall properly. My body shot forward in a half-roll and slammed back-first into a massive tree.

Without a human cushion this time, the impact was brutal. I flailed my arms and legs, trying to stand, but my body only twitched as if electrocuted and refused to obey.

In the distance I saw the attacker striding toward me. His mask had torn while pushing through the rough bushes; blood trickled down his cheek. He never slowed, drawing his sword from its sheath as he approached.

Damn it. Of course he never intended to keep me alive, hostage or not.

The exact moment I burned with resentment at having been deceived—

Rustle.

Someone stepped between us.

Brown eyes. A girl with brown hair that fell to her shoulders, neatly tied back with a string. The child the mercenaries called their youngest stood silently in front of the man, head lowered.

"……"

Hesitation flickered across the man’s face. The arm holding the sword drooped slightly.

And I, leaning against the tree, witnessed what happened the instant the man opened his mouth to speak to her.

The girl slammed the sheath she carried down onto the man’s instep with all her strength.

The man reflexively lifted his injured foot. The girl immediately kicked his other ankle with everything she had.

He lost his balance and toppled. By then the blade had already left its sheath and waited beneath his throat.

In only three moves the girl had killed a man several heads taller than herself. She wiped the blood droplets from her hair with the back of her hand and turned to look at me.

Seeing her like that, a certain template’s background setting rose in my mind.