Episode 1133
Episode 1133
"L-Lee Han. Don't you think it's a bit hasty to assume they're Evil God Worshippers just from that...?"
While Professor Garcia stammered in bewilderment, the enraged soldiers began shouting.
"You crazy bastards! Do you have any idea where you are? How dare you attack Count Bouillon's checkpoint!"
"Wait! Everyone, run away!"
Professor Garcia was shocked to see them further provoking the situation when they should've been dropping their weapons and pleading 'We're not Evil God Worshippers' at the very least.
The soldiers were also slightly taken aback.
They'd revealed the Count's authority, yet these people showed no fear?
Even if they were crazy enough to disregard that, reactions like 'Everyone, run away!' were completely unexpected.
And the soldiers immediately understood why such reactions had occurred.
KABOOOOM!
Lee Han had begun smashing the remaining barricades with his Water Prison Bombs.
Firing spells with bone-breaking intensity regardless of the soldiers blocking their path, the troops on the bridge desperately leaped into the river below.
Professor Garcia shouted toward the soldiers plunging into the water to explain their actions.
"We're actually from Einrogard! You probably didn't see our banner! Please understand!"
The soldiers who'd jumped into the river were too busy coughing up water and flailing to hear her. Only a few remaining soldiers at the demolished checkpoint stood frozen in shock.
"E-even if you're from the Magic Academy... is this really how you're allowed to act?"
-You are.
-Don't you know this is what happens when you provoke already pissed-off people?
The knights sneered as they kicked the remaining soldiers into the river. The soldiers fell with screams.
Watching this, Lee Han asked in a serious tone:
"Shouldn't we interrogate them for any traces of collusion with Evil God Worshippers?"
-...Ah! R-right, of course!
The knights quickly threw chains to haul the dripping soldiers back up.
Who would've thought he'd actually meant that earlier...!
When the Empire was founded, the noble families who cooperated with the Emperor and the archmages were granted various special privileges.
Though not quite at the level of the great noble houses, there were more families than one might expect who possessed at least one hereditary privilege passed down through generations.
Among them, Count Bouillon was a noble who held quite a few substantial rights, including toll collection authority over an area encompassing about three villages.
Of course, that didn't mean he could afford to be deluded.
The Empire's nobles didn't have the same arbitrary authority as nobles of ancient times.
Strictly speaking, even the toll collection rights weren't for lining his own pockets—it was closer to acting as a proxy for collecting tolls that should be paid to the Empire.
And honestly, that alone was plenty. Even if he couldn't rule like an absolute monarch of old, there were endless ways to make money.
Like sharing authority with collectors in exchange for kickbacks, or raising tolls under various pretexts...
But this too required finesse—the key was knowing exactly how far to push without crossing the line.
No matter how vast the Empire was, or how slim the chances of complaints reaching the capital's bureaucrats, tactless fools always crossed the line and brought inspectors knocking.
Count Bouillon took pride in this aspect.
Especially in amassing maximum wealth without tarnishing his family's honor or getting caught.
But misfortune always strikes unexpectedly.
This year's sudden western drought and heatwave had even the Count panicking.
"Of all years for a drought to hit. Of all years!"
The gaunt Count muttered as he paced endlessly around his study, too agitated to stay still.
Imperial law required each region to stockpile a certain amount of disaster relief supplies—and Count Bouillon himself was personally responsible for this.
Normally, it wouldn't have mattered. He could just requisition supplies from nearby merchants and quietly replace them with inferior goods without getting caught.
But with such a sudden disaster striking, the situation had completely changed.
In fact, Count Bouillon hadn't just replaced the relief supplies with inferior goods this year—he'd outright embezzled them and even converted them into cash!
He'd recently made a large investment in the Capital Confectionery Guild, only for them to be defeated by the Baker's Guild, so he'd acted unusually boldly to cover the losses—who could have predicted a disaster would strike?
"Please calm yourself, my lord. You'll surely be able to handle this in time."
The Head Butler tried to soothe Count Bouillon.
"You've already ordered the soldiers to block the roads, haven't you? Don't forget, my lord has the authority to manage the bridges."
The Count nodded with an anxious expression.
Currently, Count Bouillon had used his authority to order the checkpoint soldiers to block anyone attempting to enter the area.
The checkpoint soldiers were essentially private troops paid by the Count, so no one refused.
The excuse could be made up later—bandits had appeared in the area, so travel was restricted for safety; the plague was too severe, so entry was temporarily blocked...
"...We could even say Evil God Worshippers appeared."
"That won't do, my lord! That might bring the Knight Order down on us!"
"Ah, right. I must not be in my right mind. You're correct."
Count Bouillon snapped back to his senses.
An excuse had to be plausible—what kind of excuse was 'Evil God Worshippers'? That was an unlucky one.
At any rate, he had already blocked all troublesome outsiders—imperial inspectors, local officials, and priests of the Church—so the only thing left was to secure the relief supplies again.
Once the relief supplies were back in place, he could face anyone who came snooping around with confidence.
"Lately, there's been an unusual increase in priests around here—do you think they'll find it suspicious? Or try to force their way through?"
"My lord, unless Evil God Worshippers actually appear, there's no reason for them to force their way in. You know the temperament of priests well."
Unless certain conditions were met, priests of the Church weren't particularly violent people.
Even if entry was forcibly blocked, they might frown in displeasure, but they'd likely just choose another route.
Knowing this, the Count had given the order in the first place.
"Damn these merchants! Hurry up and gather the supplies, I say! If I'm exposed, none of you will be spared either!"
Count Bouillon cursed the merchants.
The merchants currently scrambling to act were those who had long been close associates of the Count.
After all, wrongdoing was difficult to pull off alone.
These were the very merchants who had helped the Count replace goods with inferior ones, raise tolls, and cleverly exploit various privileges.
So if there was trouble over the embezzled relief supplies, they had to step up too. If the Count was caught, they'd be caught as well.
And yet, they still hadn't secured the supplies...
"These idiots, these money-grubbing vermin—how could I have ever given special favors to the likes of them?"
BANG!
"Count, sir! We've secured the supplies! As soon as we finalized the contract with the Northern Trade Association, we immediately requested the fastest carriages from those Richmond bastards—they'll arrive within a day!"
"Ohh!"
When the merchants burst through the door as if breaking it down, Count Bouillon's face lit up with joy.
As if his earlier curses had been lies, the Count showered the merchants with praise.
"You are the true heroes of this territory, the lifeblood that keeps the Empire flowing!"
"Thank you, Count!"
The Count especially embraced Naseda, the leader of these merchants and the one in charge of this operation, gripping him tightly.
"Naseda, you are my right hand, my very own Gonadaltes!"
"What an honor indeed!"
There was no greater praise than comparing someone to the great mage who had stood by the founding Emperor's side—a man who could be called the Emperor's right hand without exaggeration.
Of course, if the Emperor or the great mage himself were to see this scene, they would be absolutely furious...
"As soon as the supplies arrive at the warehouse, everyone must return to their original posts, and the order blocking passage must be revoked. Ah, yes. Prepare a donation. The priests' feelings might have been hurt."
Crash!
Before Count Bouillon could even finish his excited chattering, someone burst through the door as if breaking it down.
The messenger was drenched in sweat, having apparently run nonstop after receiving the news.
Though it was a rude intrusion, Count Bouillon smiled instead of getting angry.
"Have you also heard the news about securing the supplies?"
"Disaster has struck!! The mages of Einrogard have forcibly entered the territory!"
"......"
"......"
The atmosphere in the study turned icy cold, as if someone had suddenly poured freezing water over them.
The merchants were the first to react, shouting in panic.
"Why would Einrogard mages come here?! There must be some misunderstanding!"
"Maybe they confused them with other mages? Yes, Baldrogard! They might be Baldrogard mages!"
"I'd prefer Baldrogard mages! I know some Baldrogard mages who..."
The messenger shook his head violently and shouted.
"They're definitely Einrogard mages. The southern bridge checkpoint was completely destroyed..."
"Destroyed?"
Count Bouillon froze.
Though Einrogard, as the Empire's magic academy, held various privileges—including unrestricted passage rights—unrestricted destruction was not one of them.
No matter how much they blocked the roads, this was clearly their mistake!
An idea flashed through the count's mind. The merchants seemed to think similarly, shouting:
"Count. Use this as an excuse to tie their hands!"
"Exactly! Say you only blocked the roads temporarily because of bandits, and protest that destroying the checkpoint was excessive! That should stall them!"
If they claimed there was a misunderstanding and arranged a meeting to talk things over, the count could drag his feet and arrive late—buying enough time to hold out.
Just one more day, and the relief supplies would arrive in the territory. He could apologize to the mages later, saying he'd made a mistake out of enthusiasm... "Naseda, my right hand, my Gonad... No, can I leave this to you?"
The count stopped himself from saying "Gonadaltes," feeling an ominous premonition.
The merchant laughed heartily, confident he could easily handle a few mages.
"Don't worry. I'll tie their hands so thoroughly they won't even notice."
Neither the count, the head butler, nor the merchants realized in their excitement over this clever scheme.
The most important thing was figuring out exactly why the Einrogard mages were acting so violently.
"Hmm. So they're not Evil God Worshippers."
Lee Han muttered quietly.
As the knights began seriously interrogating the soldiers about possible connections to Evil God Worshippers, the terrified soldiers tearfully confessed the truth.
-We don't believe in that stuff!
-I follow the Flemeng Order...! W-wait. Priestess! Aren't you from the Flemeng Order? I'm a believer! I even donated as a child! Speak for me!
-...I-I'm not from the Flemeng Order. I'm... from the Prisinga Order.
-...Priestess Siana...
-This is terrifying! Just look at Lord Wardanaz's glare!
Lee Han had hoped to uncover remnants of the sinister Sanguiros Cult hiding among the soldiers, but no matter how thoroughly he searched, nothing turned up.
All he found was confirmation that the count in charge of taxation had given the order.
"Could there really be bandits roaming around?"
"I'm not sure, Professor Kim."
Professor Kirmin didn't fully trust the soldiers' words.
After all, the count wouldn't have explained the exact reasons to mere soldiers.
"Disasters do tend to increase bandit activity... but it's rare for someone to ban travel and give up toll revenue just for travelers' safety."
"Right? Count Bouillon doesn't seem like that kind of person."
"One thing is certain."
"?"
"Whether they're bandits or the count's private soldiers, it'd be best if they don't cross our path while we're passing through."
"...Should I try persuading Lee Han?"
Professor Garcia whispered, glancing at her student, who was scanning the surroundings with a murderous glare, searching for hidden Evil God Worshippers.
"No need."
"Huh?"
"Wardanaz needs somewhere to vent his anger. Bandits or the count's soldiers are better targets than Einrogard students."
'Ah. Right. This person was Professor Bagrak's friend.'