Chapter 61
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 61
When Marie stepped forward in her dress, Regina’s eyes widened in brief surprise before a triumphant smirk spread across her face.
"How amusing. A lady stepping forward? Is this the 'freedom' you spoke of? Being a fool isn't freedom. Ohohoho!"
"Hiding behind others to handle your own affairs isn't noble. It's just cowardly, my dear."
"Oh, does it look like I'm hiding? No. This is called giving orders—something you likely know nothing about. Why don't you send your pathetic knight forward now? Before you come to regret it."
"He would kill you."
Marie offered the warning without a hint of exaggeration.
At Marie's consistently cold and blunt words, Regina’s polite facade shattered as if a mask had been ripped from her face.
"…You really don't know your place."
Marie, who was already tall, looked down on her and smirked. Regina had no composure left. Her smile vanished, and her breath came in ragged, angry gasps.
In truth, what annoyed Regina the most was Marie's appearance. Anyone could see that Marie was far more beautiful. No matter how much Regina adorned herself with expensive clothes and jewelry, she couldn't change her own face.
If Marie had at least groveled and flattered her, Regina might have been willing to let it slide. But Marie's attitude was haughty and condescending. That, she could not tolerate.
"Lowborn trash never learn until they taste a bit of pain. It's so difficult for a noble to show mercy. Boys, who wants to ruin that pretty face for me?"
Regina spoke, glancing at the men standing behind her. There were five or six grown men, and they all looked like thugs. For all her noble pretenses, it was clear what kind of crowd she usually associated with.
"Tsk, what a waste," one of the men said.
It was an incredibly offensive remark.
The men glanced at Rickert, who was standing blankly in the back, and dismissed him as a pathetic coward. To think he would let a woman step forward while he just stood by and watched.
But that thought didn't last long. Marie suddenly closed the distance, her long leg snapping out in a front kick.
Thud!
The kick slammed into the man’s abdomen like a thrusting spear. He immediately collapsed to his knees, spewing the contents of his stomach in a torrent.
"Bleeegh!"
Marie’s movements were so fluid and fast that the mediocre thugs couldn’t react. They just stood there dazed, wondering what on earth was happening.
Without pause, Marie swung her fist in a wide arc, planting it squarely on another man's face.
Crack!
A sickening sound of breaking bone echoed through the alley. His nose, philtrum, and jaw shattered from an impact that could have easily been fatal.
Only then did the hair on the necks of the remaining three men stand on end. A sudden, chilling realization hit them: they had messed with the wrong person.
But their bodies froze in that moment, leaving them unable to react or even run. Caught completely off guard, they couldn't process what to do.
Marie gritted her teeth, her leg swinging like a club as she delivered a powerful kick to the next opponent. Then, she swung her fist again.
Crack! Thud!
Two more men collapsed. She didn't need multiple strikes—it was one hit per person.
In the first place, local thugs who only knew how to throw street punches stood no chance against someone who regularly swung a blade with her life on the line. More importantly, Marie knew how to manipulate mana.
While manipulating mana didn't guarantee victory or make one immortal, it was clearly far beyond what an ordinary person could handle.
Marie casually plucked a tooth that had gotten stuck in her knuckles, tossed it to the ground, and looked at the last remaining man.
Frozen in place, the man finally flinched and tried to run.
But Marie grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, tripped him, and brought her foot down hard on his face.
Crunch!
She couldn't crush his skull like a watermelon the way The Nameless could, but it was more than enough to shatter his nose and teeth.
Because she was fighting in a dress, her pale legs and thighs were frequently exposed. Watching from behind, Rickert felt a pang of embarrassment, followed by a slight regret that he hadn't stepped in himself.
After beating five grown men to a pulp in an instant, Marie kicked the head of the last man aside and turned her gaze to Regina.
In the darkness, her blue eyes gleamed with a cold light.
"This is what real strength looks like, little Regi."
Marie smiled, throwing back the sentiment Regina had expressed earlier—that the difference between nobles and commoners lay in strength and power.
But Regina didn't hear a word. Her mind had gone completely blank, utterly unable to process the situation.
Marie, wearing low-heeled shoes, walked toward Regina with rhythmic clicks. Regina didn't even tremble in fear; she just stared up at Marie blankly with wide eyes, simply unable to comprehend what was happening.
Marie slowly raised her hand and slapped Regina across the cheek with all her might.
CRACK!
The sound was like a thick branch snapping in two. Regina’s jaw fractured on impact. She collapsed, knocked out cold, her broken teeth scattering through the air like corn kernels.
Once everything was over, Rickert walked over and stared down at Regina's crumpled form.
"She looks like a squashed rat."
Regina, unconscious with her mouth agape, was drooling bloody saliva.
In any case, Rickert figured that securing a contract with the Merchants' Association was out of the question now. But what was done was done. There was no turning back, and he had no intention of blaming Marie.
Should I just kill her now and dump her in the canal to cover it up? The thought briefly crossed Rickert's mind, but he didn't want to go that far at this point.
If he was going to do it, he should have handled it instantly. Doing it now was too risky; there might have been witnesses.
"Is your hand okay?"
"Yeah. If I use some of the herbs Boribori prepared, it should heal quickly, right?"
"I don't know. Honestly, I don't really trust those."
"Aren't you two best friends?"
"Being friends is one thing, but if something doesn't work, it doesn't work."
"Cold as always."
Rickert merely chuckled as they walked away under the overpass. The sounds of their footsteps—heavy thuds and light clicks—gradually faded into the distance.
The perpetrators, who had brought this fate upon themselves, lay scattered in a miserable heap.
*
The next morning, Rickert and his friends gathered around a table for a meal in the spacious building they used as their headquarters.
Volka spoke to Marie, his mouth full of food.
"So, you just beat her up? A girl from a merchant family?"
"Yeah. Sorry."
"Well, they threatened you first, so you have nothing to be sorry about… but will it be okay? It should be fine, right?"
Volka asked, looking at Rickert. His expression seemed to say, You're a noble, so you'll clean up this mess, right?
"I heard somewhere that under Imperial Law, merchant families aren't considered nobles."
"Are you sure?"
"Who knows."
"......"
Volka was speechless. No matter how it played out, he felt like he would be the one taking responsibility. He trusted his friends, of course, but he was still breaking out in a cold sweat.
"How were the docks?" Rickert asked.
Boribori sucked his fingers after picking chunks of meat from his soup and replied.
"The Masons' Guild is occupying the docks. The Merchants' Association's ships can't set sail. They said it's because of unpaid construction fees. There wasn't any real fighting yesterday, but they're basically living there now. Looks like they won't budge until they get paid."
"Hmm… I see," Rickert mused. "But you know, I did a little digging. It turns out the Ehrenberg Masons' Guild are the long-time locals here. The Merchants' Association has been around for a while too, but their members and families seem to change frequently. In short, the Masons' Guild and the Merchants' Association are the two major powers in Ehrenberg."
"And?" Boribori asked.
"Is it better to get involved in their fight, or should we just watch? If we mess up getting involved in something like this, we could be totally screwed."
"Isn't our chance with the Merchants' Association already down the drain anyway? We beat up their kid," Delphi said as she gathered the empty dishes. She wasn't blaming Marie, just stating the reality of the situation.
"Still, we could just stay out of it and watch."
"But if the Merchants' Association gets the upper hand, won't we be in trouble? I think it's better to take a side while we still can," Rickert said, in favor of actively intervening.
"But how do we connect with the Masons' Guild?"
"Collecting unpaid debts—that's what adventurers have been doing since ancient times. It's a classic job."
"Collecting unpaid debts from the Ehrenberg Merchants' Association… By the way, why didn't they pay? It's not like they don't have the money."
"We can just find out. I'll go ask. Those guys seemed to take a liking to me," Boribori said. Honestly, it was a bit doubtful, but it was true that Boribori was the most sociable of the group after Volka. He was especially popular with gruff older men.
"Hmm, alright. But first, you guys need to learn the ropes. There's a surprising amount of work. And we need to get familiar with the local merchants. Benny at the grocery store, Glott at the general store, Waylon the blacksmith, plus the tanner, the potion shop, the cloth shop, and so on. We need to know all their faces to source our goods. You know what I mean?"
One of the duties of an Adventurers' Guild was to provide standard supplies to visiting adventurers. To do that, they had to stock up on goods in advance, making it crucial to maintain good relations with local merchants. Securing food supplies was especially important, so they also had to stay on good terms with the farmers around the city.
Since Volka couldn't handle all of this alone, every single member of the clan naturally had to pitch in.
"Ice, can you do it?" Rickert asked.
Unlike Boribori, Ice completely lacked social skills. If one were to quantify it, his sociability would be close to zero.
"He just needs to stand there," Delphi chimed in. "Let's focus on getting familiar with the female merchants."
Aside from his talent in swordsmanship, Ice's cheat-like good looks were one of his greatest assets.
"I've never paid full price for anything in my life," Ice said flatly.
He meant that merchants always gave him discounts of their own accord.
Was he joking? Or was he serious? Everyone present let out a dumbfounded chuckle. Only then did Ice offer a faint smile.
*
A girl lay in a luxurious bed, bandages wrapped around her head. It was Regina. One side of her face was so swollen, bruised, and disfigured that she was barely recognizable.
Marconis stared down at his daughter. Other family members were nearby, and he muttered aloud, making sure they could all hear.
"Utterly useless, absolutely useless… Tsk."
He seemed more annoyed than worried.
"When was the arranged meeting with House Hafin?" Marconis asked, looking at his grown son. His son, Armen, had brown hair neatly slicked back, shining as if it had been greased.
"Next month, Father."
"Cancel it. She's useless like this. By the time she heals, she'll have missed her marriageable age. Foolish girl."
His tone carried not a shred of affection for his daughter. He clearly viewed her as nothing more than a tool for the family.
"But Father, shouldn't we teach those bastards a lesson?"
"Are we some backwater country knights to be blinded by revenge? What have I always told you? When taking action, you must weigh the profits and losses first."
"I'm sorry, Father."
"Still, we can't just let this slide. Reach out to our contacts in the Beringen Guild. And dig into the backgrounds of those two."
Marconis was a meticulous man. He was different from those who blindly lashed out in anger.
He was certainly angry. However, the source of his anger was not that his daughter had been beaten, but rather that his plans had been disrupted. Arranged meetings, engagements, and marriages were highly important affairs for the family. They were the means to secure new alliances or strengthen existing ones.
With such matters disrupted, he was naturally furious.
Furthermore, he was currently in a conflict with the Ehrenberg Masons' Guild, so he had more than enough on his plate. In truth, the Merchants' Association wasn't withholding the construction fees because they lacked money. They were using a trivial clause in the contract as an excuse to withhold payment, all to win a battle of pride and suppress the Masons' Guild.
The Ehrenberg Masons' Guild was a collective of artisans who were essentially the native inhabitants of the area, a group that made their living by passing down their craft from generation to generation. The ultimate goal of the Merchants' Association was to bring them under its wing, seize complete control of Ehrenberg, and enjoy a monopoly.
To achieve this, their current plan was to squeeze the guild's livelihood, drag out the conflict, and then slowly give them some breathing room, gradually bending them to the Association's will.
Compared to this grand scheme, his daughter being beaten was no major issue. It was merely annoying. Yet, like a hangnail, it kept bothering him.
Furthermore, Red Cloak and the Dismemberer. These two needed to be handled with caution. He knew how fierce and terrifying the Ehrenberg Quintet had been, and since these newcomers had killed them, they were clearly no ordinary foes.
A few days later, a letter arrived from the Beringen Guild. However, Marconis tilted his head in confusion after reading it.
We express our regrets regarding what happened to your daughter. However, we cannot disclose the personal information of our guild's adventurers. We wish you martial fortune.
Martial fortune? Not 'good luck'? Marconis found the word choice strangely bothersome. It was a rather inappropriate term for an official letter.
After all, "martial fortune" specifically referred to one's luck in battle. Did those uneducated fools just use whatever word came to mind?
The hangnail was starting to bother him more and more. It was exactly like that—annoying to ignore, yet surprisingly painful if you tried to rip it off.