A Secret Contact (2)
That day, the streets of the Royal Capital felt unusually chilly. The crowded streets gave off sounds closer to anxious murmurs than lively bustle. People’s feet hurried across the moss-covered roads of the Royal Capital, thoroughly soaked by autumn rain. Amid the footsteps, the clatter of horse hooves, and the rumble of carriage wheels, one sound carried a distinctly different weight.
“…”
The sound halted at the entrance to the back alleys of the Royal Capital. Twisting paths like a maze stretched in every direction. Though the hour still lingered in late afternoon, the alleys—wrapped in shadows cast by the dense buildings—were already as dark as midnight.
Golden eyes gleamed from beneath the hood of a man clad in pitch-black clothes. Instead of drawing people in, the dark alley exhaled a chill, ominous wind.
The hooded man—Maxim—recalled the letter he had received only days earlier.
Maxim could not help but let out a hollow laugh the moment he stepped inside the guild. The gazes of the adventurers, and even the staff handling them at the reception desk, all turned curious eyes toward him. Some held fear and terror; others shone with admiration and envy.
Ignoring them, Maxim approached the reception desk. The staff member stared at him as though trying to dissect him. Maxim deliberately pretended not to notice.
“Hello.”
He ignored the painfully awkward greeting. Before Maxim could speak, the staff member swiftly cut him off.
“This way.”
Maxim followed the staff member who had suddenly beckoned him. As he climbed the stairs, he felt another gaze boring into his back. This time it likely carried a hint of jealousy as well.
“…The branch manager wishes to speak with you.”
The staff member spoke quickly, as if offering an excuse. Maxim merely tilted his head slightly, as though asking whether anyone had inquired. Seeing the adventurer offer no reaction, the staff member let out a short sigh, unsurprised.
“Here. You may enter this room.”
The staff member spoke curtly and hurried back down the stairs.
Maxim harbored a small grudge toward Naira for inflating his notoriety to such a degree.
He knocked on the door. A presence stirred inside the room.
“Please come in.”
Maxim entered, inwardly questioning why the branch manager used such polite speech. The first thing he saw upon opening the door was a well-built, dignified man seated at a desk, scribbling busily. When the door opened, the branch manager stopped his hurried hand and met Maxim’s gaze.
“I have been waiting for you.”
Maxim, still wondering whether the man always spoke so formally, simply nodded and took the seat indicated.
After seating him, the branch manager rummaged through a desk drawer and produced a paper envelope.
“A designated request has arrived for you, adventurer.”
Just as Naira had said—this must be from someone who had been watching him closely.
“Normally one may refuse a request rather than accept it, but the person who brought this seemed absolutely certain you would take it.”
The branch manager slid the envelope across to Maxim.
“The client asked that this be delivered.”
Maxim accepted the envelope. Inside the featureless packet lay a single stiff, neatly folded sheet of paper, waiting to be opened. Without hesitation, he tore it open.
The branch manager’s face stiffened as Maxim casually ripped the envelope apart.
To Maxim Apparte.
It seems Naira’s impersonation of you as an adventurer proved quite effective.
In truth, we possess no definitive proof that you are Maxim Apparte. Yet every piece of circumstantial evidence points to that conclusion, so we have chosen to trust our judgment.
The royal palace has fallen with such ease that one might call its capture futile.
During the Behemoth subjugation, while the palace stood empty, Leon Benning orchestrated its encirclement from within and without, aided by the second prince and the Magic Tower. No matter how elite the Royal Guard protecting the grand hall might be, they could do nothing more than safeguard His Majesty the King and his kin.
Yet because that Royal Guard existed, the enemy has not yet crossed the final line, and His Majesty has found room to maneuver.
What we chose was to gather even the smallest forces, bit by bit.
We know Leon Benning has been relentlessly pursuing you. To draw you out, the Benning family secretly attempted to crush the Apparte barony. However, with the help of an unidentified individual, the Count of Agon and the Margrave joined strength and desperately held them back.
Your family is safe—including your fiancée. They are currently in the east, where Benning’s reach remains weak.
Please do not blame them. The two houses are already overwhelmed restoring the war-torn lands, and there is no telling when Leon Benning might extend his evil grasp.
The Margrave feels nothing but remorse toward you. Should you still harbor the will to oppose them, we ask that you come to us when the time feels right.
Maxim let out a deep sigh of relief. The unidentified helper had to be Naira, acting on his request. He trusted his master, of course, but confirmation still lifted a weight from his chest. At the same time, he understood that these people now held his family as de facto hostages.
At the bottom of the letter lay the stamped insignia of the Royal Guard. Beside it was a simple map of the Royal Capital’s back alleys and the name of a tavern located deep within them.
Maxim carefully memorized the map, then crumpled the letter and tossed it into the fireplace that furnished the branch manager’s office. Only after watching the paper turn to ash did the branch manager’s face finally relax.
“I suppose there is no point in asking whether you will accept the request…”
“I will take it.”
“Pardon?”
It was the first time Maxim had spoken. The branch manager answered in a dazed voice, staring at him. Maxim simply gazed back, making it clear he would not repeat himself.
The branch manager felt those unseen eyes upon him.
“…Understood.”
Maxim rose slowly from his seat. The branch manager’s gaze trailed after him, hoping for a glimpse of his face beneath the cloak, but all he caught was the line of a mouth shadowed by the hood.
“If you require anything, please ask for assistance at any time.”
“…If that is the adventurer guild’s stance.”
At Maxim’s question—whether they intended to openly turn against the Benning family—the branch manager answered with a meaningful look. Yes.
Receiving that confirmation, Maxim gave a calm nod and left the room.
“Lily, is it?”
To use the royal family’s symbol as a tavern name showed more boldness than he had expected.
The back alleys of the royal capital were deep and utterly sinister. Constant shouts, curses, and the sounds of things smashing and breaking echoed endlessly. Still, no ruffian possessed the nerve to bother a tall man walking slowly with a longsword at his hip, so Maxim advanced without much trouble.
“Hey, who’s that guy?”
“An adventurer?”
“Maybe someone sent by the military police?”
They merely sidled away from him, whispering among themselves about his identity. The moment Maxim turned his head toward the source of the murmurs, they scattered at once.
“Look here, damn it.”
“Don’t make eye contact. You know nobody gives a shit if you get fucked in a place like this, right?”
“Look at the way he walks. That’s not the stride of someone who’s only been here once or twice.”
He had simply memorized the map exactly, yet the alley dwellers were already spinning wild tales about his background.
From the crossroads strung with laundry lines, he turned downhill. Maxim began descending the slope. The moment he chose that path, eyes latched onto him. With every step, gazes from every corner of the alley fixed upon him—surveillance.
Maxim did not care for those stares. When he sharpened his presence, the watching eyes began to vanish one by one.
The pommel of his sword felt cold. His palm closed carefully around the hilt.
His footsteps halted only a few paces from Lily.
Knights emerged at the mouth of the alley. Two appeared from the direction he was heading; one blocked his retreat. No words were necessary. The sharp killing intent radiating from the blades they drew from their sheaths spoke clearly enough.
A slash flew at Maxim from behind. Almost simultaneously, he ducked to avoid it and met the two strikes coming from the front.
Clang!
The longsword—drawn at some point—blocked both frontal slashes with a single swing, scattering vivid red sparks. The knights who had blocked his path immediately switched to defensive movements. Their strategy was to prevent him from breaking forward while making it easier for the knight behind to strike.
Maxim angled his stance to watch both directions at once. A sword plunged downward. He could not turn his back. Dodging sideways would only corner him further, and the defense ahead was solid.
Maxim threw himself backward.
“Ugh!”
The knight he collided with had the air driven from his lungs by the unexpected charge. He staggered back, and the two knights in front immediately filled the gap.
“Here!”
A short shout meant to draw attention. Maxim decided to play along for the moment. He deflected the blade aimed at his legs, then closed the distance to meet the late follow-up strike. Blades locked with a hideous screech.
“A contest of strength…!”
The knight crossing blades with Maxim twisted his mouth. He poured in power, refusing to yield, but there was a limit to bracing a blade descending with full weight from higher ground.
“Ugh!”
Unable to withstand Maxim’s sword, the knight withdrew. The knight behind, having recovered, thrust again, and the remaining knight in front responded in kind. A true exchange of blades had begun.
Four cutting sounds rang out in the space of a single blink. The knights gradually struggled to control Maxim’s blade.
“Tsk.”
One knight clicked his tongue. The alley was simply too narrow for four skilled knights to swing freely. That was fortunate for Maxim and a severe limitation for the three working together. Once the balance collapsed into a chaotic melee, the numerical advantage would become something Maxim could exploit perfectly.
“Mobility.”
At the curt command, the knights’ attacks shifted. The lower knight relentlessly targeted Maxim’s legs. If his movement were restricted, the higher knight behind would strike. Yet Maxim felt no threat whatsoever. The sword tips never aimed at vital points. The blades never sought fatal cuts.
The knights’ deliberately restrained strikes began to annoy him. If the opponent refused to reveal their full strength, he would simply force them to do so.
Boom!
Maxim unleashed his killing intent. Mana now raced through his body without any lingering discomfort or pain, kindling a fierce light in his golden eyes. The knights blocking his front recoiled in shock. The wind created by their movement tore back his hood, revealing his face.
Maxim’s golden gaze locked onto the knights.
Gulp.
Not even the sound of dry swallowing could be hidden. The surrounding atmosphere drowned in a silence thick with murderous intent.
“Testing is all well and good,” Maxim said, readjusting his grip on the sword, “but if you continue to be this half-hearted, I’ll be quite disappointed.”
His voice was ice-cold. The blade in his hand gleamed with the same menacing aura as his presence.
The knights exchanged glances. Then, as if resigned, one stepped forward after clearing his throat.
“…My apologies.”
The knight offered a sudden apology. With his hood removed, he appeared roughly five years older than Maxim—a young man.
“I apologize for underestimating you and for conducting a needless test. The royal family and the Royal Guard tend to be overly cautious even in situations like this.”
The knight spoke with a good-natured grin. Maxim did not withdraw his killing intent.
“Well, it seems you are just as cautious yourself.”
“That cannot be helped.”
Maxim answered in a sharp tone. The knight nodded, understanding there was no other choice.
“The test… is already over. From the start, we realized we could not handle you unless we drew our aura.”
He swept aside the cloak covering his chest, revealing the royal emblem. The lily shone pure white.
“Raphael Jung of the First Royal Guard. A pleasure, Maxim Apparte.”
Maxim finally relaxed his killing intent and sighed. Only then did the wrecked state of the surrounding alley come into view.
“I am Maxim, eldest son of the Apparte barony. Whether the title is still valid, I cannot say.”
“Did the letter not tell you not to worry about that? Then let us head inside for now.”
Raphael Jung seemed strangely hurried. Maxim followed him down a flight of stairs leading underground and entered the tavern. The other two knights followed behind him. Their skill is considerable; if only I were five years younger, he thought.
“Don’t tease him too much.”
“If that’s your intention, perhaps you could tell me what’s about to happen.”
The tavern was far larger inside than it appeared from the street. In truth, it resembled a small military command post more than a drinking establishment.
“You’ve arrived.”
The voice that rang out was one Maxim recognized almost immediately. Before he could even identify its owner, the knights walking ahead and behind him dropped to one knee and bowed their heads. Maxim moved to follow suit, but another voice stopped him.
“Rise, and lift your heads. I have no desire to insist on etiquette in a situation like this.”
Pushing every question blooming in his mind into a corner, Maxim raised his head to face the speaker.
King Georges II sat in a chair, watching them.