Comrade (5): The Pebble Assault
Armed picked up a stone. Not one enchanted with explosion magic, just an ordinary pebble.
[Hey, wait a sec. What the hell is that in your hand?]
“It’s a pebble?”
[Uh... mind if I ask why you’ve got that?]
“My father’s bedroom window has ironclad magical security. Unless it’s one of our society’s master-class cat burglars, there’s no way my lockpicking spells can pry it open.”
If magic couldn’t do it, brute force would have to. Orishin couldn’t help but think of Morgina, who’d once knocked on the cathedral’s main doors with her Piercing Mallet like it was a doorbell.
‘No way. While I was holed up in the mountains tinkering away, did Eve Kaha-style thinking spread across the continent? Oh six principles, your baby girl’s out here spreading weird ideas in Tirnanog...’
Orishin murmured a prayer in his mind for Kriel and Armed’s luck, tacking on one last line at the end: Don’t bother asking the six who make silence a hobby to help—get someone from the pantheon to rein in Eve Kaha, at least.
The storm intensified. Rain poured down like arrows, blanketing Ket County. The downpour was so dense it almost felt hard to breathe.
Armed caught her breath. The cloak she wore radiated warmth, as if defying the supernatural chill carried by the raindrops. It was... well, not just a little annoying. Damn, it’s actually pretty well-made.
Having scaled the castle wall, Armed pressed her ear briefly to the stone near the window. Thick curtains hung inside, making it unlikely anyone could spot her, but she moved with utmost caution, keeping her body out of view from the frame.
Amid the cold trickle of rain and the stone’s inherent chill, a faint sound filtered through.
“Like a rabbit trembling at approaching footsteps, like a king heeding the murmurs of the masses, approach the secret with fear and curiosity.”
For a eavesdropping spell, the incantation was surprisingly grandiose, Armed thought as she focused on the voices inside.
“Young master, rest easy. I’ll guard the lord’s chambers myself.”
“But th-there’s a dullahan in there!”
“It won’t move right now. Provoking it carelessly could put the lord in even greater danger. I’ll stake my life to protect him, so please go downstairs without worry.”
“Indeed. Hekedian, you go join the defense of the people. Tell Countess Esarg the same.”
“But Mother...”
“I won’t say it twice.”
Armed tallied the voices. Hekedian, Dein, Helbrinke.
‘Something’s off.’
Helbrinke’s tone was too rigid. It could be the emergency stiffening her voice, sure. But she was overly cold to her own son. The unease that had started at the bad-luck doll-burning ceremony now felt thicker.
A dullahan in the room was suspicious too. Wild Hunt didn’t manifest indoors without some catalyst. It was like an old legend: uninvited guests couldn’t cross the threshold.
‘Did yew ash somehow spread all the way here?’
She’d heard Kriel and that sword of his talking about it. Evil Dragon poison and yew ash had summoned the Wraith King. But if ash reached her father’s room—no. His bedroom was near the top of the tower. Windows sealed, and servants and family maintained extreme cleanliness coming and going. Impossible unless someone smuggled yew ash inside.
Hekedian, who’d finally scurried out of the bedroom in a panic, was off the list. The guy always changed into fresh clothes before visiting Father, terrified of spreading some illness.
Helbrinke? Possible she’d brought it in under the guise of nursing Father. But her expression at the doll-burning nagged at Armed. If Helbrinke were the mastermind, she wouldn’t slip up on her face like that. At best, an accomplice tied to the full plot.
That left one.
‘...Dein?’
An advisor’s betrayal? That made the whole affair even stranger. Helbrinke was Dein’s top engineer. She’d have noticed any anomalies ages ago.
Click.
The door shut. Hekedian was gone.
Armed moved carefully. She affixed a magic scroll to the window frame—to weaken the reinforcement spells and amplify the stone’s destructive power when thrown.
A faint voice trickled along the wall.
“If the Wild Hunt won’t stir because of a duel... how many years must I wait?”
The automaton’s eerily monotone voice. Dein was definitely plotting something.
Armed gripped the stone.
Crash!
A sudden thunderous boom. The window shattered amid a scream. Blended into the noise was a true banshee’s wail, seeping through the storm.
The automaton reacted instantly. No clichéd “Who goes there?” It knew: Wild Hunt wasn’t moving. Any intruder not harvesting souls was just an uninvited pest.
Magic fired from its artfully sculpted fingertips. One bolt of lightning per finger, arcing toward the window.
Nothing visible behind the shredded curtains. The automaton’s judgment lagged.
What the—?
That’s when Armed hurled herself inside.
She’d anticipated the counterattack the moment the glass broke. Eve Kaha’s cloak billowed. Like a black monster bursting from the storm.
Armed’s mind raced. Lightning magic worked on steel foes, but this wasn’t just machinery. Hadn’t it just used lightning arrows itself? Fire or anything that could engulf Father was out too.
She picked the perfect spell for the situation. Using the netherworld chill brought by Wild Hunt as a catalyst.
Armed pointed her index finger at Dein. An imaginary line from her fingertip struck its left arm.
The arm began to freeze.
With mechanical calm, the automaton swiftly dispelled the frost curse.
Armed’s face hardened.
“Who are you?”
“That’s my line. Armed. You threw away your inheritance and left, and now you’re here committing patricide?”
“Cut the crap. Dein’s not a combat automaton. It’s an ‘advisor.’ Sure, it might have basic self-defense, but not that level of advanced magic.”
Armed scanned the room. The dullahan stood blankly by Father’s bed—immobile until the duel ended. Helbrinke sat in the left corner by the door, eyes unfocused. And the automaton blocking the entrance.
“Helbrinke wouldn’t approve gutting its advisory functions for combat upgrades. Feels like the personality got swapped out entirely.”
Whatever had seized Dein’s shell reversed the frost curse with deft mana control. The technique looked familiar to Armed: suppress with overwhelming mana, then brute-force the spell structure with a shock. Left scars on the body, but unbeatable speed in breaking curses.
“Our family’s curse-breaking art...?”
“Sharp eyes.”
Whatever inhabited Dein dropped the formal speech. No need for it anymore.
“Fuck. What are you?”
“Guess.”
Furious at the wordplay, Armed raised her staff. She’d held back with chantless magic to control output, but no need now. She had to pin this thing down here.
That very moment.
Another shadow crept up from outside the window, silently targeting Armed. Helbrinke opened her mouth to warn, but the Automaton Totality controlling her body forbade the action.
The Totality anticipated the bizarre experiment of its infiltrator ally reaching its conclusion.
Following Armed up the wall: Nayd’s shell. It scuttled across the ceiling. Right hand extended like a blade, aiming for Armed’s carotid.
Clang—!
The horn dagger at Armed’s waist flew in, blocking the automaton’s ambush.
[What the hell is this now?!]
Orishin shrieked. He’d sensed the rear attacker and used his mana to redirect the sword. But damn, charging in without those red eyes glowing was cheating, right?
The red blade danced wildly, parrying the automaton’s strikes. Silver and crimson trails intertwined in a beautiful, lethal dance.
“Nayd too? You the king of scrap metal stuck in the west?”
“Ha. Ha. Ha. If that’s a king, then I’m a vassal, I suppose.”
‘Automatons only had one Totality ego...’
Armed gritted her teeth. Orishin sent her a telepathic message.
[I’ll handle the one behind you, so smash the front one fast as you can. If it starts grabbing villagers and threatening you, we’re screwed.]
“Right. And Ket’s a barony, after all. Call me Toothwheel Count, Arunback—”
Armed drew the obsidian spearhead that had blown off Tushkin Gabi’s shoulder. Mana flowed from her staff, enveloping it, loading it like an arrow at the tip.
Fire.