Chapter 117
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 117
The commotion died down.
"You kept going on about wanting everyone to leave, and then you actually kicked them all out, Boss."
"My incredible drive left you trembling, didn't it?"
"I was trembling, alright, but for a completely different reason. Still, I suppose you did a good job stepping in to mediate when things needed to be stopped."
Just as Patrick had expected, Swallow was sprawled out on his bed. As Patrick approached, Swallow rolled over, as if trying to avoid him.
"Please, let me rest."
His voice was pitiful, making it hard to believe this was the same man who had commanded such a heavy, imposing atmosphere just moments before. Feeling a pang of sympathy, Patrick spoke in a gentle tone.
"Still, you should keep it in mind. Judging by their confidence, the allied forces must be quite substantial. And since they mentioned tearing the Empire down from the inside, they're likely an internal faction, not an external kingdom."
"If things go south, we'll stop them then. Then."
“……”
"Destroying the Empire is a pretty common dream, isn't it? It's a waste of energy to get all worked up over it."
Since humanity classified all dungeons as evil, not a single one of the Great Evil Caves harbored any love for them. It was only natural that they all desired mankind's destruction.
Kurak was just more of an activist than the others, Swallow rationalized, curling up to protect his own peace of mind.
Having nothing to say to that, Patrick and Melju silently cleared the table. Cleaning up the slime Hexabel had left behind was a chore in itself.
As they were cleaning, Rene, who had gone after Bathory, returned with an exhausted expression. It had taken her over half a day to get back.
"Rene has resolved the matter successfully."
Given Bathory's hot temper, her anger had likely cooled by the time they reached Cheite Castle. It was obvious Rene had been dragged around like a toy until now.
"…You worked hard."
After offering his condolences for her hardship, Patrick went to find Swallow. A carrier pigeon had just arrived from Hastin.
Perhaps there was truth to the saying that the position makes the man. Lara, once utterly incompetent, seemed to be settling into her role as the Lord of Hastin. Once the financial support was fast-tracked, Hastin began to function at a level that at least lived up to the name of a county.
Of course, there had been many casualties before they reached this stage. Residents who had starved for nearly a month couldn't be revived overnight just because food was now available.
"Rosalina has left the territory... Was she that woman from the back alleys? I doubt a destitute pauper with nothing to her name can achieve much by leaving, but I should report this for now."
When Patrick arrived at Swallow's room with the letter, it was empty.
He stood there blankly, waiting. After a long while, Swallow slowly stepped out from the darkness at the back of the room.
"Boss, did you go to the very end?"
"I went to check on a few things. It's been a while."
"I suppose even you're a bit worried about the war, then."
Having no particular excuse, Swallow just gave an awkward smile.
"Is there still a lot left?"
"Yeah."
"I see."
Swallow scratched the back of his head. Patrick glanced around, just in case, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.
Only then did he continue.
"So you're saying it's not yet time for the Empire to fall."
Phase. 4
Childhood.
Every day, a puppet show was held beneath the giant, spreading tree in the center of the village.
The audience was always made up of children. For those who couldn't read, the puppet show was the most delightful way to end the day.
It was their dream, their ideal.
"This time, it is the story of the Hero of Light defeating the Dragon of Darkness."
In the play, exquisitely carved wooden puppets danced splendidly. The yellow one was the Hero; the black ones were the forces of evil. The forces of evil were diverse, most borrowing the names of real monsters.
The Hero always won.
Sometimes by his own strength, sometimes alongside his companions, he always achieved victory. That was the only outcome. Everyone focused solely on that brilliant triumph.
In that play, there was no grief over lost companions, no despair from hitting one's limits.
No one wanted to see the dark side.
Even if there was one, they believed that because he was the Hero, he would overcome it all.
The young Uin, too, believed exactly that.
*
"I am the Hero, Uin Historia."
"I'm Barisik."
Yobaf, a viscountcy in the southeastern part of the Empire.
Viscount Arazeh, the Lord of Yobaf, hastily bowed his head.
"…Please forgive me for not preparing a proper reception. I am Arazeh de Odorne, ruler of Yobaf."
"Raise your head, Viscount."
Though the permission was granted in a youthful voice, Arazeh couldn't easily obey. It took more time and courage than he had just to lift his gaze. Only when the heavy silence began to suffocate him did he finally raise his head and look around.
A silver-white uniform.
Long, flowing, sky-blue hair.
And above all, the platinum emblem hanging around her neck.
There was no room for doubt. The young girl standing before him was the Hero 'Uin Historia', an officer of the Edelbreas Black Wolf Knights and the Hope of the Empire.
Damn it, why? Without any prior notice…
The moment he saw the platinum emblem, Arazeh hurriedly bowed his head again and bit his lip. He bit down so hard he nearly drew blood, doing everything in his power to remain silent.
This is a disaster. A total disaster.
Arazeh had received no communication prior to Uin's arrival, which meant the Hero was operating under a secret order.
Furthermore, the uniform she wore revealed the purpose of her actions.
Right now, Uin Historia was acting not as a Hero, but as a knight.
The renowned Edelbreas Black Wolf Knights had sent Uin—the Hero herself—on a secret mission.
"If I may be so bold as to ask, what brings you here…" Arazeh asked cautiously, his voice trembling as his mind raced.
While he wasn't exactly incorruptible, he wasn't a lord who committed evil deeds, either. He simply lived a moderate life suited to his station.
So what had he done? How badly had he messed up to find himself in this situation?
Had someone framed him? Thinking of his personal relationships, there were certainly people who held grudges against him. Was it that bastard's doing? Could it be?
"Viscount Arazeh."
This time, a calm male voice spoke. Arazeh bowed even lower, as if trying to burrow his head into the ground.
"…Yes… Yes."
He had hesitated too long. The moment that thought crossed his mind, a massive sword slammed into the ground right next to his head. The faint shockwave alone made Arazeh feel as if everything he had eaten that day was about to surge back up.
That sword, steeped in a sinister energy, was undoubtedly a magic sword.
And damn it all, Arazeh knew this man's identity as well.
The 'Berserker' Barisik, who had won fame as a legendary member of the subjugation squads. The long, light-gray hair, which didn't match his epithet, only confirmed Arazeh's guess.
"Now, we don't have much time, so let's wrap this up quickly."
The voice, devoid of a single shred of mercy, made Arazeh feel even more pathetic. Although he couldn't fully comprehend their intent, he knew for certain that it boded nothing good.
Am I being dragged to the Imperial Palace… or will I be summarily executed right here?
He deeply regretted not writing a will, having always taken his good health for granted.
Barisik lifted Arazeh's chin. Forced to look up, Arazeh painfully opened his tightly shut eyes.
Rustle. The sound of paper crumpling reached his ears. Barisik was holding a sheet out right in front of his face.
"They might have changed their name, so it could be different. If there's someone like this in your territory of Yobaf, cooperate with us to find them."
It was a sketch of a person's face and a physical description. Arazeh accepted the paper with a dazed expression. The face didn't look particularly extraordinary—but more importantly, he had seen it before.
"This person is…?"
"Don't ask questions. If you know, just spit out where they are," Barisik frowned. His every gesture and his entire attitude was a blatant threat.
"We're not here to do anything bad."
*
"Aren't you going to eat?"
Sometime later, they had relocated to a restaurant in Yobaf.
Unable to watch any longer, Barisik spoke to Uin, who was just sitting there with hollow eyes, her food untouched.
"I don't have an appetite."
Uin's expression remained dark. Deciding it was less a loss of appetite and more a total lack of energy, Barisik stared at her before speaking again.
"You're really something else. You can blow monsters to bits with a single strike, but you can't eat because one companion died?"
“……”
"Geez."
Barisik, who had been attacking his food with both hands in a way that could only be described as combative, finally set his utensils down. He looked dumbfounded.
"I think I know why the Captain and Garot paired us up for this."
Barisik muttered openly, making sure she heard. At the mention of the Captain and Garot, Uin glanced up at him.
"Look, Hero, I'm not Garot, okay? I don't know how to show you proper respect, and since I'm uneducated, I sure as hell don't know how to comfort you."
"I'm not asking for comfort."
"Then stop being so dramatic and eat. You'll regret it later if you don't."
“……”
As if he'd said all he needed to, Barisik picked up his food again.
Conflict washed over Uin's face, but she seemed to make up her mind and picked up her fork. The meat they had ordered was already cold and tough.
As Uin forced a piece into her mouth, Barisik handed her a sheet of paper with his slightly cleaner hand.
"These are the orders the other knights received. Nerit and Ireira went to fetch Sian."
At the mention of Sian, Uin stopped her fork and took the paper.
Written clearly on it was 'Hero Sian Tsukikrup'—the last of the Empire's three existing Heroes, and the Sage who cast magic without chanting. Above all, Sian was a Hero famous for staying out of the public eye. It wasn't that he used stealth or anything of the sort; he simply rarely showed himself. Witnesses would occasionally report seeing him, but the locations would differ even on the same day.
"Can they even find him?"
"Well, that's Nerit and Ireira's job. I'm sure they'll handle it. We just need to focus on ours."
Having emptied two plates that could have each fed two people, Barisik wiped his hands on a towel the server had provided.
"Actually, our task might be the harder one. Sian wanders around a lot, but once you find him, he's easy enough to talk to. Oh, if you're not going to eat that, I will."
While Uin was reading the paper, Barisik snatched one of the two plates in front of her.
Only after hearing the clatter did she realize what had happened.
"Wait, that's mine! I was going to eat it!" Uin yelled, immediately grabbing Barisik's wrist.
Since beating Uin in a contest of grip strength was impossible, Barisik meekly returned the stolen food out of sheer survival instinct. The dish was supposed to be meat with a side of salad, but in those few seconds, it had somehow become a jumbled mess. Barisik laughed sheepishly.
"Ah, sorry. Old habits from the battlefield die hard."
"That's so unfair! Don't touch other people's food! Barisik, let me hit you just once… I'll go easy on you, just one hit."
"No thanks. A hit from you would probably send me straight to the afterlife."
Uin swung her arm at him, but unable to bridge the distance across the table, she only ended up flailing at empty air.
Chuckling, Barisik stood up as if to escape. "Take your time eating. I'll get to work first."
Getting up from his seat, he scanned the restaurant briefly before heading toward the kitchen.
"Hey, chef!"
At Barisik's rude behavior, an assistant cook stepped forward to intercept him.
"You can't come in here—!"
However, perhaps realizing the difference in their status upon seeing Barisik's uniform, the assistant hesitated, unable to physically stop him.
"I am the chef."
The chef, having no intention of hiding, stopped what he was doing and walked out at Barisik's call. He was a man in his early fifties, exuding a seasoned charm. His cooking attire couldn't fully conceal a physique built with well-defined muscles.
"How can I help you, customer?"
"Ah, I just came to say thank you for the meal. It was worth traveling all this way. Food like this isn't easy to come by."
At the mention of 'all this way', the chef's eyebrow twitched slightly.
Soon, he replied with a smile. "It is my honor that you enjoyed your meal. If you ever crave our food again, please do not hesitate to visit."
"Oh, of course. And… here."
Barisik grinned back, matching the chef's smile. Reaching into the inner pocket of his uniform, he tossed a pouch toward the man.
Clink!
The loud sound of coins clinking echoed from the pouch, which was clearly packed full.
Catching it, the chef stood frozen for a brief moment, as if turned to stone.