Breaking Down the Wall (2)
Count Agon’s mansion, the entrance to the underground prison. When one opened the wooden door that occupied the center of the basement’s stone floor, the entrance leading down to Murat’s lord’s prison was revealed. A chill seeped through the lattice of the iron bars that firmly blocked the way.
“You are keeping a proper watch, I trust.”
“Yes. We are making certain he cannot escape under any circumstances.”
I wonder if he even has the leisure to think of escaping, the soldier added quietly. The brass key ring in his hand clinked softly. The underground prison, thick with dust and the smell of mold from long disuse, was finally having its entrance opened once more. Tension hung heavy on the soldier’s face as he guided the count with a brass lantern in hand. Behind him, Count Agon’s expression was harder than it had ever been. What could the prisoner have done to twist the ever-gentle count’s face into such a mask? Curiosity flickered in the soldier for a moment, but the sight of the hooded stranger standing silently beside the count, staring at him, drove the thought from his mind at once. Though the hood concealed the man’s face, the soldier could feel the weight of that gaze.
What kind of look is that? So sharp…
Count Agon’s voice, stiff with anger, cut through the soldier’s shudder. “Open it.”
The soldier composed his expression and rummaged through the keys. He selected the long, oddly oversized key meant for the door. After a brief rattle, the bars creaked open.
“Give me the keys.”
The soldier handed them over with a worried glance, then looked around before passing the lantern to the hooded man. Without a word, the stranger accepted it and descended first into the prison.
“You may return ahead of us.”
“…Will you be all right, my lord?”
The soldier asked anxiously. The count nodded. His hardened face spoke volumes.
“I will be fine.”
“If anything happens, please call for us at once.”
After the soldier’s parting words, he turned and left the basement. Count Agon gazed down into the underground prison, where only the flickering brass light remained. Maxim, knight of the Royal Guard, stood midway down the stairs, waiting for the count to descend.
“I kept you waiting.”
“It is no trouble.”
Maxim shone the lantern at his feet. The prison stairs spiraled downward into deepening darkness; even the lantern’s glow could not reach their end. The count glanced into that profound shadow and spoke to the knight, his tone edged with warning.
“You had better explain exactly what happened here.”
The church’s bell tower lay in ruins. Roofs along the market street bore scars of destruction. Blood stained the streets. Irina’s escort knight had been carried away bleeding from the head, and the guest staying under their roof had nearly been abducted—right in the heart of the domain, while the count’s own eyes were open and watchful. Count Agon’s gaze burned with quiet fury.
“You will understand soon enough,” the knight replied.
The darkness grew thicker still. The sparse lamps along the walls had gone out, and even the remaining ones swayed precariously. A cold, damp wind brushed their faces, growing stronger, until the spiral stairs ended and a wide chamber opened before them. In its center stood a door twice the height of a grown man, guarded by soldiers. The count strode ahead, his footsteps echoing loudly through the chamber.
“My lord.”
The two soldiers guarding the door that led to the corridor of cells saluted as Count Agon descended the stairs. He waved the gesture aside.
“The prisoner?”
“He is barely clinging to life. Two more are watching him inside.”
The soldier gestured toward the door leading into the prison. “We do not know what sort of demon did this, but they carved him up just enough to keep him alive. The military surgeon clicked his tongue when he saw the wounds. The knight who brought him in even praised the swordsmanship after examining the scars.”
At that, Count Agon glanced sideways at Maxim. The knight remained perfectly composed, as though the matter had nothing to do with him.
“…I see. Will you open the door?”
At the count’s command, the soldiers stepped aside and began unfastening the latch. The unoiled iron groaned horribly, like brass being scraped directly across raw nerves. The soldier’s face twisted as he pushed the heavy door open. In the airless depths of the prison, even torches would have been wasted. The lantern cast a feeble, mouse-sized glow that swayed and threw long shadows.
Count Agon and Maxim walked down the corridor lined with cells until they reached the room holding the spy. The soldiers who had been glaring at the prisoner with murderous intent relaxed their expressions and stepped back when they saw the count.
“Just as you said.”
The count clicked his tongue at the sight of the spy slumped forward, wrists shackled. “I understand now what ‘one step from death’ truly means.”
The tendons and muscles of the prisoner’s limbs had been severed; even conscious, he could not control them. His entire body was wrapped in bandages, yet fresh blood still seeped through in places. The stench of mold in the prison was overpowered by the thick smell of blood.
“Will you explain, or shall I interrogate him?”
The count turned to Maxim.
“Either way is fine with me.”
“…Do as you please.”
The count ordered the soldiers to open the cell. As the bars swung open with the same grating sound, the spy, who had been hanging his head, slowly lifted it.
“Heh… What brings you down to a place like this, my lord…?”
The spy’s attempt to maintain composure even before the count faltered the instant he saw the figure standing beside him. His face turned ashen, like the lantern light illuminating the cell.
“You…! You bastard…!”
Was it rage, or fear? When Maxim took a single step forward, the spy thrashed desperately with limbs that would not obey him. It looked far more like terror.
“You certainly went and did something impressive.”
“So you were working with the count…! That cannot be…! I have never heard that Count Agon was harboring a monster like you!”
“Think what you like.”
As Maxim approached, not even a trace of anger remained on the spy’s face. Only pure fear. The count let out a quiet sigh at the dramatic change.
Thud.
The knight’s hand seized the spy’s hair without hesitation. He yanked the man’s head up roughly, forcing those trembling eyes to meet the count’s.
“What was Leon Benning planning when he sent you here?”
The spy’s jaw trembled. The count’s eyes gleamed, determined to remember every word of the interrogation.
“Do you… really think I would tell you? Capturing me was easy, but…”
The spy’s words were cut short. Count Agon was shaking his head with an expression of disbelief, and Maxim was looking at him as if to ask what he thought. The spy’s mind, already sluggish, began to race, wondering what mistake he had made. Before he could reach an answer on his own, the count supplied it.
“To send such fools as spies… Count Leon Benning must have held my domain, and me, in very low regard.”
“It is not that this one is particularly foolish. It is closer to his thoughts being paralyzed by terror, turning him into a fool.”
The spy’s face drained of color as he realized he had essentially confessed that Leon Benning had sent him. In contrast, Count Agon’s expression ignited with a clearer flame of fury.
“There is nothing more to hear. I even regret keeping him alive this long. It was my mistake not to discard my last shred of doubt toward you.”
“There is no need to apologize. Rather, I am glad this incident occurred and allowed you to resolve your suspicions.”
Count Agon’s gaze lingered on the spy, then shifted back to Maxim. Maxim continued to stroke the pommel of his sword.
“I have made up my mind. It would be best to deal with him here and now, to avoid future trouble.”
“If Leon Benning is openly provoking us to this extent, there is no point in keeping him alive.”
The scales that weighed life and death tipped heavily toward death. The spy began to babble in panic.
“Wait, wait…! I can still be useful! Count Leon Benning intended to plant spies here in Murat, in No Man’s Land. They planned to establish a network of contacts. I could feed them false information in return!”
“All the other spies are dead and you alone survived. What use could you possibly be?”
The sword slid free of Maxim’s scabbard. The spy thrashed with every part of his body that could still move. The struggle ceased the moment the blade rested against his shoulder.
“You think you can get away with this…?”
Before the spy could finish, the blade swept across his throat.
Whoosh.
Blood poured like a waterfall from the gaping wound, soaking the floor. A faint hissing sound escaped the severed windpipe as droplets sprayed outward.
“If things had gone according to their plan, it would have been quite troublesome,” the count said, looking down at the dead spy.
“The benefactor’s guest would have been abducted, and Leon Benning’s shadow would have crept into the domain. I would have blamed the adventurers’ guild for the kidnapping without ever realizing Benning was behind it all.”
The count spoke the truth in a bitter, matter-of-fact tone.
“I owe you my thanks. You have saved me once again.”
“It is thanks to His Majesty’s foresight in sending me here. What I did was nothing remarkable.”
Maxim maintained the dignified bearing expected of a Royal Guard knight. The count looked at him with admiration.
“If this incident has helped you make up your mind, then I have merely done my duty.”
“We can speak in more detail at my mansion.”
The count turned and left the prison. The sticky, blood-tinged moisture seemed to cling to the skin. The soldiers swallowed dryly as they watched the count and the hooded knight emerge from behind the bars, their expressions resolute.
“…What should we do with the body?”
The count answered in an icy voice. “Throw it to the monsters as feed.”
==
The domain, which had seethed with the afternoon’s chaos, seemed to have regained some measure of calm by nightfall. Most of the bloodshed had occurred out of sight of the residents, so the greatest topic of conversation became the ruined church bell tower. With the tower silent, the night streets were quiet as well.
Count Agon greeted Maxim, who had come to his study with a weary expression. Having removed his hood, Maxim had returned to the appearance of Arsen Verne—black hair, black eyes, and the scar crossing the bridge of his nose.
“I must apologize for damaging the streets.”
When Maxim began with an apology, the count shook his head.
“…I will not demand separate compensation.”
A long sigh escaped him. “I have not forgotten the grace His Majesty showed by providing resources to rebuild the domain at a low cost. And considering what you have done for this domain and for me, Sir Arsen, a bell tower and a few roofs are a small price to pay.”
“I am grateful for your generosity.”
“No need for thanks… You should have seen my wife after she heard what happened.”
Count Agon was still suffering the aftereffects of explaining the full story to his wife. He himself felt quietly grateful to Marion for bringing life and energy to the domain and the mansion, but Irina cherished her almost like a daughter.
…Abduction?
That was why the demonic fury she had unleashed upon hearing the news had fallen squarely on the count’s shoulders. The matter had been resolved and Marion was not bedridden, yet Irina had nowhere to direct her anger except toward its source.
Leon Benning, that arrogant snake-eyed man…!
Irina had spent dozens of minutes spewing curses the count had never expected to hear from her in his lifetime. Then she had thrown her full support—more passionately than the count himself—behind her husband’s decision to stand with the royal family against Leon Benning.
You made an excellent choice. How dare he lay a hand on that child…?
Thus Irina Agon had begun sharpening an invisible blade. The count, who had only just escaped her wrath by using work as an excuse, gave a hollow laugh as he complained to Maxim.
Maxim frowned at suddenly being forced to listen to a husband’s grievances. When the count noticed his expression, he cleared his throat and straightened his posture.
“Ahem. I have rambled on too long.”
“It is fine.”
“Well, as you have heard, I intend to follow His Majesty’s plan and support the First Princess. The sooner such matters are settled, the better, would you not agree?”
“Yes. That is correct.”
The count’s eyes gleamed. “Therefore, to keep you from wasting time in the east, I will go to No Man’s Land myself and meet with the Margrave.”
“…You intend to go in person, my lord?”
When Maxim looked surprised, the count smiled faintly. “The Margrave is a stubborn warrior. You might persuade him without difficulty, but someone who has experienced these events firsthand will save far more time.”
“Will you be all right? The domain…”
“There is nothing to worry about. Since Benning’s attempt failed this time, he will not be able to reach east for a while. Rather, he will focus on central affairs without looking outward. That is also why you must return to the capital without delay.”
A knight of your caliber would be a great help to His Majesty in the capital, the count murmured.
“Lastly, I will send someone to the capital ahead of you. It would be wise to station forces with the First Princess and First Prince to prevent Benning from causing trouble.”
“An excellent judgment.”
Maxim nodded in agreement. “If we move ahead of the merchant caravan’s schedule, they will be caught off guard. They are certain to assume we are traveling with the merchants.”
“Then I will send people and a carriage to accompany you to the capital tomorrow. Make sure you can depart together.”
“I will do so.”
Maxim answered briefly and rose from his seat. The count watched the spot where he had vanished without a sound, then spoke to himself.
“…I hope he is not too startled when he sees the number of people.”
==
“…He really is an arbitrary man from beginning to end.”
Early the next morning, Maxim exchanged farewells with Pierre at the inn’s entrance. When Pierre heard that Maxim had unavoidable business and would have to leave first, he had raged at first. Of course, once Maxim mentioned that he had captured every spy hidden among the merchant caravan, Pierre quieted down—though his frown did not entirely disappear.
“Sorry about this.”
“If you are sorry, you should not have done it in the first place.”
Pierre answered gruffly, yet he extended his right hand. Maxim gave a small chuckle and clasped the rough hand in a handshake.
“Thanks for catching the spies. No wonder the domain has been treating us with excessive consideration since that day.”
“With no more threat of a knife in the back, we can travel comfortably.”
“I understand, so stop showing off.”
Pierre said this even as a faint smile touched his lips. “If you need help in the capital, come find me at the guild—Pierre Fabien. No matter what it is, I will help you at least once.”
“You had better remember that promise.”
Maxim released his hand as he spoke. Pierre caught a glimpse of the faint curve of lips beneath the hood and wondered if he had said something unnecessary.
“Well then, I am off.”
“Show your face at the guild when you return from your business.”
“If I can.”
Leaving Pierre behind, Maxim slipped away. A cold autumn wind blew. This was only a single success. Maxim sharpened his resolve. It would still take time before this blade reached Leon Benning’s throat. To that end, he needed to return to the capital first.
Maxim looked at the carriage waiting before him. When he made his presence known, the coachman hurriedly climbed down from the driver’s seat and approached.
“Oh, you have arrived.”
“…I did not particularly want this kind of VIP treatment.”
When Maxim spoke without thinking, the coachman gave a good-natured smile and guided him toward the carriage. It was a large caravan drawn by two horses—the very image of a merchant’s wagon.
“Please step inside. Given the circumstances, the count asked me to convey his apologies for not being able to escort you more comfortably.”
“It is fine.”
Maxim answered briefly and lifted the canvas to climb inside. Then his expression froze in surprise.
“Greetings.”
Inside the caravan, Maxim found a female knight he had met somewhere before, two men who appeared to be knights of the count’s household, and—
“You came?”
—Marion Bourdin, wearing the black mask Maxim had newly given her.