Back to the East (4)
The caravan arrived neither late nor early, precisely on schedule. The weather had been favorable and no monsters or bandit groups had obstructed them along the way, so Maxim had wondered if they might reach their destination far sooner than expected. Yet the merchants had deliberately dawdled, exerting every effort to hit the appointed time exactly.
"Damn it, we stayed in that territory way too long."
"Told you. Even if it means waiting a bit, we should just keep moving."
"Having too many distractions is the problem. The problem."
In the end, their excessive dawdling forced them to pick up the pace to avoid falling behind. The merchant seated at the front muttered under his breath.
The carriage train that had set out in the predawn darkness before the sun had even risen finally reached the walls of Murat just before noon.
"We've arrived in Count Agon's domain," Pierre muttered.
Maxim gazed at the towering walls rising high above the hunched backs of the merchants and adventurers. This was the first time he had seen them from the entering side. A sentiment that was not quite a sentiment stirred in him as he watched the soldiers moving busily about. Awakened at a far earlier hour than usual, the merchants' fatigue-laced complaints echoed from every direction.
"We unload the goods here, stay a few days, then head back into No Man's Land?"
"About a week. Looks like some of them even picked up odds and ends, planning to do a little trading while they're here."
The merchant in the driver's seat answered Pierre's question. Over the past several weeks of travel, the two had grown rather familiar, conversing with easy comfort.
"So there really were people determined to trade here."
"Not just 'some.' I'd say seven out of ten in that line back there came with bundles on their backs."
"You didn't bring anything?"
The driver snorted. "I'm already overwhelmed just preparing the goods to take into No Man's Land. I don't have the luxury of worrying about pocket change. That's for people who actually enjoy trading."
The merchant tapped the stacked crates. Though they swayed precariously, they somehow never toppled.
"When are they going to let us in? I timed it perfectly on purpose."
Almost before the merchant finished grumbling, a soldier's shout rang out.
"Raise the gate!"
Metal screamed against metal, a sound that tore at the eardrums. The massive iron bars of the enormous gate were slowly lifting.
"Move out!"
The lead merchant's booming voice cut through the air. The merchants who had been lounging slack-faced in their carriages rose with gleaming eyes now that work had begun. The column advanced slowly, like a giant serpent writhing to life.
"...Once we're inside the castle walls," Pierre spoke to Maxim in a low voice, "remember what I told you when individual action is permitted."
Maxim nodded.
"...You're going to hunt for those bastards?"
Pierre nodded at the question. "It's about time those rats started moving. This is the last stop before No Man's Land, and there will be merchants here whose purpose is exactly that."
Pierre rubbed his smooth bald head, eyes shining. The oddly trusting look made Maxim lean back as if burdened.
"It would be reassuring if you helped, but..." Maxim frowned.
Though the hood hid his face from Pierre, the man surely knew the expression revealed nothing but weariness.
"We already know one of them. Shouldn't be hard to round up the rest."
"I told you it's not that simple."
When Maxim openly sighed at Pierre's refusal to yield even an inch, the big man raised both hands in surrender. "All right, all right. You said you have your own business. I know. I was just talking."
Pierre clicked his tongue in clear disappointment. He had wanted to ask Maxim to set his affairs aside and work together, but the knight's unyielding attitude made it clear words would not persuade him. In the end, Pierre had to content himself with a promise that Maxim would cooperate if time remained after his own tasks were finished.
"Still, remembering it won't hurt you. We're facing a common enemy, after all. It helps me and my guild, but it will certainly help you too."
Maxim rose from the caravan. The entire procession had passed through the gates, and the carriages were now slowly dispersing to their respective spots.
"I'll keep it in mind while we're moving. If I see something I can help with, I won't hesitate."
"I'll take that as sufficient for now," Pierre said. He stood and leaped lightly from the caravan.
"What are you standing there staring for? If you have things to do, get moving."
Maxim let out a dry laugh and slowly descended from the carriage. The ground of Murat, which he had trodden not long ago, felt strangely unfamiliar. In a daze like one not yet fully awake from a dream, Maxim closed his eyes.
Here. My family is here.
Just that thought made his heart beat faster. He had not imagined Count Agon would mistreat them, yet the fact that he had been forced to come all this way, setting his own territory aside, made Maxim bite down hard on his lip.
I have to do this right.
To reclaim everything he had lost and once more stand as the knight Maxim Apparte, he first had to carry out his current mission flawlessly.
The Foehn Wind blew in from the mountainous region, cutting through Murat's towering walls. In contrast to the bright sun and cloudless sky, the valley wind swept mercilessly through the city.
"Whoa! Hey!"
"The tent's flying away! Grab it! Grab it!"
Murat's residents strolled the streets with their usual ease, but the merchants scrambled in the harsh wind, clutching their goods and tents while shouting.
Leaving the chaos behind, Maxim looked up at the increasingly steep slope of the city. Murat's territory began at the castle entrance with a gentle incline that grew steeper the closer it came to Count Agon's mansion. Winding roads followed the slope, and buildings of every purpose lined the divided districts in haphazard fashion. He felt like an actor standing on a theater stage, gazing out at seats packed with spectators.
"...Hm?"
Maxim had been slowly lowering his gaze from the highest point—Count Agon's mansion—when he stopped at a particular spot.
"A bridge..."
There was a bridge in an excellent position to overlook the entire square and the merchant caravan. What held his attention, however, was not the bridge itself but the two women standing atop it, looking down at the scene. Striking jet-black hair with the glossy sheen of black silk, a mask covering half her face. And beside her, a noblewoman whose features were the exact image of his own.
Ah.
Maxim's breath caught for a moment. Mother. Marion.
In a daze, he stared up at the bridge. Though seen from afar, the pair appeared to be well. A female knight stood guard behind them—likely one Count Agon had assigned for their protection.
She must be waiting for him. No—she probably did not even know whether he was dead or alive. That realization pressed down on his heart like a heavy weight.
"Wait for me," Maxim murmured.
The wind that had died down suddenly gusted again. For a brief moment his expanded field of vision let him see Marion's vivid blue eyes. They held a wariness and fear entirely different from the way she had once looked at him. Hiding the urge to smile bitterly, Maxim turned away. The sensation of the ring on his left ring finger—hidden beneath his glove and half-forgotten—felt unusually vivid today.
"Go find... Hey, are you listening?"
Pierre tapped Maxim's shoulder. When Maxim glanced over, the bald giant was frowning deeply.
"No."
Pierre burst into a dry laugh at the brazen reply. "Answering so confidently actually makes me like you more."
"What bullshit."
"I'm the one who should be angry right now, you bastard."
Pierre let out a long sigh, then pointed with a listless gesture at a two-story building behind the large caravan. "Anyway, I'll be staying at that inn there—the one I'm pointing at. If anything comes up, come find me. I won't have reason to leave this square. Even if I'm not at the inn, check around the caravan area and you'll find me."
Pierre lowered his hand and patted Maxim's shoulder a couple of times. "So you have your own business, right?"
"Yeah. Sorry, but I can't tell you where or how I'll be moving around."
"I didn't expect you to. You'll handle it just fine on your own."
Watching the thick hand wave dismissively, Maxim let out a short sigh.
"Then."
"Yeah. Make sure you're back in time for departure."
Maxim vanished without a trace. Though his presence still seemed to linger at his side, Pierre let out a low groan at the sudden disappearance.
"...How is he that fast?"
"You remember the Count's orders, right?"
"We gathered just to kidnap one woman? And then stay here for a while acting as contacts? What the hell is the Count thinking...?"
"Watch your tongue," one of the five men gathered together warned.
They were agents of the Benning family planted by Leon Benning. They had taken advantage of Pierre's brief absence inside the inn to speak.
"This is the last time we can gather like this. The two I mentioned earlier, head to the mansion. I'll stay here to draw attention. The next man will slip out quietly and head to Murat's adventurer guild. And the last one..."
The speaker's eyes narrowed. His gaze fixed on a one-eyed adventurer among them. The man was trembling, biting his thumbnail as though suffering from some nervous disorder.
"Yeah, why are you still here like this?"
"L-let me off..."
"What?"
The man's face twisted as he grabbed the one-eyed adventurer by the collar and shook him. "The one who should be following that hooded bastard—what the hell are you doing here?"
"That guy! That guy's the problem!" The one-eyed man roughly knocked the hand away and shouted.
"Fine. Let's hear it. Why are you here instead of doing your job?"
"I tried to follow him. No—actually, I couldn't even try. The only reason I managed to follow this far is because he allowed it. I planned to pick a moderate fight, lose on purpose, then tail him pathetically while watching his mood, but..."
The one-eyed man stroked his own belly. Since you have to drive the carriage, I'll leave your limbs. The sensation of the blade against him had been no bluff or half-hearted threat. He remembered the feeling of cold steel pressing into his back with perfect clarity—shallow enough to avoid vital organs, precise enough to avoid noticeable bleeding. Had the writhing of his own organs ever felt so vivid? Had he ever felt his insides churn from direct killing intent? Had he ever experienced the alien touch of a blade tip that felt as though it would pierce through his stomach at any moment?
"Fuck, that hooded adventurer. He's no joke. Really—no joke at all. That man is dangerous. It's not something I can handle alone. All five of us? Even together we wouldn't stand a chance. No one would come looking for us if we died. If one falls, we'll all be dragged down. All five of us would die."
The man shook his hand as if he had touched something filthy. "You're giving a very long-winded speech about failing your mission. Do you want to be disposed of?"
"Disposed of? Ha! Whether I die there or die now..."
Wait.
The one-eyed man stopped. "If they never had high expectations for us in the first place... if the Count simply sent us to test the waters..."
"This bastard is spouting nonsense without hesitation now."
The man's voice dripped with disgust. "Count yourself lucky that we're short on manpower. Even one extra person matters."
He glared at the group with irritation. "Wouldn't it be better to use him for the kidnapping to raise our chances even slightly?"
One of the spies who had been cautiously watching the leader raised his voice. "In truth, failing the tailing mission probably wouldn't have mattered much. The Count only added it as an afterthought..."
"So?"
"Rather than forcing a failed mission and jeopardizing the rest, it's better to focus on completing the remaining tasks properly."
Seeing the look that said anything was acceptable as long as it wasn't the tailing mission, the leader nodded. "...Fine. You all know the date. It happens right before the caravan leaves, when everything is in chaos. Bring her without a single scratch, in perfect condition. If it looks like you can't even handle one young lady, then we're all dead anyway."
Count Agon sat in his office with his eyes closed, deep in thought.
Thanks to the goods that arrived this time, the territory should recover to its pre-battle level. It's fortunate the capital provided support at such a low price.
He had also realized that defense could never be neglected, not even for a moment.
I heard the situation in the capital is unstable again. We cannot reduce military spending just because the disturbance in No Man's Land has quieted for now.
All sorts of calculations spun through the Count's mind.
Civil war... civil war...
"You seem to have a lot on your mind."
The Count's shoulder jerked. When? How? Thought and action occurred simultaneously. The instant his hand moved toward the bell to summon a servant, the intruder seized his wrist.
"What—!"
The Count's shout was cut off halfway.
"I have a message to deliver."
A man in a pitch-black hood held up a lily emblem decorated with silver before the Count's eyes.