Chapter 62
Chapter 62
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 62
Chapter Title: The One Who Dreams of the Future (1)
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The one-eyed man turned ghastly pale at my words. It was only natural—he had laid hands on someone bearing the crest of the imperial family.
[But is it really okay to reveal it so casually? He might go all out, figuring everything's already lost.]
‘The odds of him gambling the guild's very existence are low. Besides...’
I fixed my gaze on the one-eyed man.
‘He’s not in a position to make that kind of call anyway.’
He just looked a bit intimidating, that was all.
I hadn’t gone all out, and we’d only exchanged a single clash, but gauging his skill level wasn’t hard.
He didn’t strike me as someone who could make a decision swaying the guild’s fate.
‘Worst case, even if things go south, taking them all down might be tough, but slipping away? Piece of cake.’
No matter how many skilled fighters a thieves’ guild might have, if I seriously bolted using Meteor Step, not even a Sword Master could catch me.
I crossed my legs slowly, resting them on my knee.
“So.”
“Pardon?”
“So, when’s the real guild master showing up? Do you actually want this guild wiped off the map along with the kingdom?”
“N-no, sir. I’ll fetch him right away. P-please, just give me a moment.”
“You gonna make me say it twice?”
“……!”
His shock was so intense I could hear his faint intake of breath.
The assassins who’d been lurking behind the room’s walls, spying on us, began vanishing one by one.
“……I figured your calm meant you had an ace up your sleeve, but I never imagined it’d be a weapon like that.”
Maria stared quietly at the back of my hand, as if exasperated.
“Got it from a friend.”
“You mean Her Highness the Princess?”
“You knew?”
“There’ve been rumors circulating since the Founding Festival.”
I nodded at her words.
I was aware of the rumors spreading lately through the kingdom’s capital, Sioten.
The gist? That I was the lover of the empire’s princess, Riya Asktalin.
They’d even reached Banheart territory, quite a distance away, so of course Maria would know.
Though most folks dismissed it as nonsense.
“Sir Banheart, I sincerely apologize.”
After a short wait, the door opened, and more than ten people filed in.
I was inwardly surprised when I saw the man at the front.
‘Why’s he so young?’
The thieves’ guild master was a young man around my age. His face was so utterly ordinary, it was hard to pick out any defining features.
Only his sharply gleaming eyes betrayed that he was no ordinary sort.
“I failed to recognize one bearing the authority of the imperial family and committed a grave offense. Please forgive our foolish selves.”
At his words, the guild executives who’d followed him in dropped to their knees in unison.
I regarded them coolly and thought.
‘This should do it.’
Pushing harder now would just breed resentment.
Imperial crest or no, this was their turf.
As Gransesia had warned, if they went all-in recklessly, it’d get messy.
“You may raise your heads.”
The young man at the front lifted his at my command.
Not a flicker of unease on his face.
‘Guild master material, alright.’
He exuded superiority in poise and presence compared to the rest. No wonder he was the boss. Only his face was plain.
“So you’re the real guild master. What’s your name?”
“They call me Jade.”
“Alright. We’ve got business, so take a seat.”
I gestured to the chair opposite mine.
Jade scanned me with his green eyes before rising and settling into the empty seat.
He paused a moment before speaking.
“If anything, the rumors undersold you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I didn’t expect you to spot our little ruse at a glance. And your swordsmanship... it felt worlds apart from the Founding Festival.”
I replied to him with a bored look.
“Save it. You know why I’m here?”
“Not for certain, but I’ve got a hunch.”
“A hunch?”
“Yes. Word is, the Timons Merchant Group’s been looking for a certain woman lately.”
I nodded. If he already knew, this’d go quicker.
“Spot on. We’re after one woman. Any idea where she is?”
“Of course.”
“Where?”
As I asked quietly, the thieves’ guild master drew a sheet from his breast pocket. It was a map marking all of Aintban territory.
“Lintria, the city west of Nabez—known as the Winter Spirit’s sanctuary.”
Winter Spirit.
The moment I heard it, I narrowed my eyes. No surprise there—the true nature of the “Phantasmic Disaster” was none other than a Winter Spirit.
* * *
At the heart of Nabez stood a colossal royal castle.
Its exterior, sculpted as if from ice itself, was a thing of breathtaking beauty—like a work of art.
This was the Crystal Palace, hailed as the world’s most stunning palace.
“Your Majesty, reports say more and more people in Nabez have been falling suddenly asleep.”
Aintban’s king, Rasir Aintban, wore a deeply troubled expression at his retainer’s words. He’d heard similar reports more than once or twice already.
“I know. Once they’re out, no amount of effort wakes them for about half a day, correct?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
Rasir stroked his snow-white beard with one hand, pondering the bizarre incidents of late.
Lately, citizens of Nabez had been collapsing into sudden sleep without warning, and frequently at that.
They woke after some time, thankfully, but the repetition had Rasir on edge.
‘It definitely started out rarer...’
As time passed, the frequency had unmistakably risen.
The affected area was widening too.
What had once been confined to a single district now spanned nearly a third of Nabez.
‘A plague? No, doesn’t feel like it.’
He’d heard about the near-plague at the empire’s recent Founding Festival, so plague was his first thought. But this seemed different.
“Best to monitor the situation a bit longer for now.”
“Understood.”
“Keep the reports coming to me.”
“As you command.”
The king watched his bowing retainer depart. Once the audience chamber emptied, he walked to the window and peered outside.
Aintban’s landscape, dusted with sporadic snowflakes, was as beautiful as ever—but it carried an unfamiliar chill today.
“What in the world is going on...?”
As Rasir muttered to himself, something odd caught his eye. A blue flicker danced briefly from an ancient ruin near the Crystal Palace before vanishing.
“What was that?”
The light had lasted but an instant.
So fleeting it could pass for an illusion. Yet Rasir’s instincts told him it was real.
‘That ruin holds...’
A site accessible only to Aintban royalty.
To his knowledge, it hadn’t stirred in ages.
Clatter!
“Your Majesty! Where are you going so suddenly?!”
He flung open the audience chamber doors and strode out. Trailed by waiting nobles and escort knights, he hurried forth.
“I’m going to check on the sword. Now.”
“Pardon?”
The sword?
The ruin’s secret—a special sword hidden there—was knowledge passed solely among royals down the generations. No one else grasped his meaning.
“A bad feeling about this.”
By the time Rasir reached the ruin in frantic strides, nothing remained within.
* * *
Lintria lay about two days’ travel west of Nabez—a hub teeming with adventurers and mercenaries.
“In a way, it’s even more famous than the capital Nabez. It’s the birthplace of Serhens, the Mercenary King, after all.”
Maria quickly added the explanation.
I knew the Mercenary King Serhens well.
[Who’s that?]
‘One of the Seven Heroes. His influence reaches every mercenary band on the continent.’
Not for nothing was he called the Mercenary King.
Serhens had long since left Aintban for elsewhere, true, but that didn’t change his roots.
‘Thanks to him, mercenaries flocked to Aintban.’
Lintria boasted the kingdom’s highest concentration of mercenary guilds, proven by the hordes of clients from myriad nations lining up with commissions.
“It’s arguably the most open spot in Aintban. Some even treat it as its own entity, separate from the kingdom.”
“Doesn’t fit Aintban’s reclusive image much.”
I clicked my tongue at the long queue snaking into the city gates. So the whole country came to hire Aintban mercenaries—turns out it was literal.
“But Lintria’s got strong mercenary clout, so security’s pretty rough.”
“The lord just lets it slide, so no surprise.”
Lintria fell under Marquis Hein, an Aintban noble.
But Hein steered clear, wary of antagonizing the mercenaries.
“No need to stir the pot when they fill his coffers just fine on their own.”
“I get it, but...”
As we entered the city, Maria pulled her hood deeper. Even with her face obscured, I felt eyes from passing mercenaries lingering on her.
“......Not exactly a pleasant place. Now I see why my brother forbade me from ever coming here after his visit.”
Women were scarce in Lintria. Those present stuck close to heavy escorts.
That alone painted the security picture.
‘Surviving solo in a dump like this for nearly a year as a woman? Lutia’s no slouch.’
Proof she’d joined a mercenary band and endured.
‘Still, running into her like this... fine?’
Per the thieves’ guild intel, Lutia Timons’s band was stationed here.
If accurate, we’d cross paths soon.
One nagging issue, though.
‘Fabian met her later in the timeline...’
I’d been altering the novel’s script all along, but it still gnawed at me.
Impossible to predict how my changes would ripple.
No backing out now, though—so on we pressed.
“Thieves’ guild map says... Ah, over there.”
The paths were labyrinthine, but their detailed map kept us on track without wandering.
We reached our target guild without hassle.
“This building’s where Mother is?”
“If the intel holds.”
A black skull impaled by a blade marked the entrance.
Unmistakably ominous, this was the base of Lutia’s outfit: the Black Skull Mercenary Corps.