Chapter 19: Fang (2)
Chapter 19: Fang (2)
The western part of the continent was a place of unending conflict—a bloodthirsty land where war broke out whenever the opportunity arose. At the heart of this struggle stood the Iron Kingdom Chervil.
It was a kingdom of iron that championed the logic of power and adored conflict. The blood of a warrior race flowed through the veins of its residents; as a result, it was common for them to pick up blades and resort to looting and robbery instead of farming whenever they went hungry.
In the Iron Kingdom, one could find bandits on any mountain, and walking alone at night often led to encounters with muggers. They were so common they could practically be called a local specialty.
Among the overflowing swarms of outlaws, there was a particularly famous bandit group.
“So, a knight was blocking the entrance to some backwater village?”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
“A real knight? Not some beggar wandering knight from a Free City?”
The bandit group known as the Red Wolves.
“Yes. He wasn’t just some nobody, I swear! He even gave his name. It was, uh, Petel! Sir Petel! Judging by the aura he gave off, he seemed to be from a prestigious knight order—”
Among the many ferocious bandit groups, the Red Wolves were notorious for one reason.
“Hmm, I see. Then the rumors about a plague or a black mage were just nonsense. It was just a single knight.”
“W-what should we do?”
“Let’s go. We have to avenge our fallen subordinates.”
The leader of the Red Wolves spoke.
“It’s been a while since I’ve had a good bit of swordplay.”
It was because of this one individual, whose skills were far too great for such a backwater region.
“I really hate damn knights.”
*
Petel began his story as he handed over a cup of warm tea.
“The uninvited guests I took the lives of called themselves the Red Wolf Brotherhood.”
“That sounds like the kind of name a knight order would use.”
“Yes, and to be honest, I found it quite offensive when I first heard it.”
Combining a specific color with the name of an animal was the traditional naming convention for knight orders. Famous examples included the Blue Lion Knights, the Black Lynx, and the White Snake.
“For mere bandits to name themselves in the manner of a knight order... If the knights of the city I lived in or the honorable knights of the capital heard of this, they might have set out to execute them immediately. A name carries that much weight. Cough, cough.”
Petel let out a dry cough, offered an apology, and took a sip of tea.
“But, cough, the fact that they boldly carry such a name... means they might be a larger or more powerful group than expected.”
“Why is that?”
“Because it means they don’t care if they draw unnecessary trouble by using such a name, cough.”
Petel’s words carried weight.
If that was the case, there was no harm in being cautious.
No matter how rural this place was, the Iron Kingdom was a land where it wouldn't be strange for any kind of monster to suddenly appear.
“Did you happen to notice any distinguishing features, or hear anything about where their hideout might be?”
“...Why are you asking in such detail? Young Master, surely you aren't thinking of heading out alone to wipe them out?”
I simply gave an awkward smile in response to Petel’s question.
Seeing my expression, Petel’s voice rose sharply.
“Don’t even think about doing something so dangerous! Where do you think you’re going alone? Even if they attack eventually, it’s much better to hold our ground here!”
“...”
“Besides, if they’re just bandits who stole the traditions of knights to name themselves, there’s a chance a real knight order will hear the rumors and come to wipe them out. There’s no reason to overexert yourself... Cough, hack!”
Petel stopped his passionate speech to cough up blood. This time, he couldn't just brush it off; he coughed repeatedly, his complexion turning visibly worse.
“Are you alright?”
“To be honest, I am not.”
Petel took a long, slow breath and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Then, in a low voice, he spoke to me as if giving a final warning.
“My condition is too poor; I think I must go in and rest.”
“Please, get some rest.”
“...Young Master, do not do anything foolish. It really is dangerous.”
Petel glared at me like a parent watching a child play near a cliff.
Then, he added one last thing in a serious tone.
“You do not yet know how cruel and dangerous the bandits of the Iron Kingdom can be.”
Hearing Petel’s words, I almost said something I shouldn't have.
Suppressing the words that rose to my throat, I simply waved with a smile.
What I had almost blurted out was simple:
‘Could a bandit group really be more cruel and dangerous than a Swordmaster?’
I was someone who had already experienced the most terrifying and cruel disasters this continent had to offer.
“Cough, cough!”
Petel limped toward his sleeping bag, and Seol-yoon appeared out of nowhere to support him as he walked. He looked surprised for a moment, then gave a small smile.
“Thank you.”
“...It’s nothing.”
Seol-yoon muttered in a dark, barely audible voice.
“I just can’t ignore a sick person.”
Watching the two neighbors walk away, I turned my head toward Liam. Liam was staring intently at me.
“So, when would be a good time to leave?”
[Immediately this evening.]
I felt sorry for Petel, but my Master’s orders came first.
“I should get ready.”
I shifted my gaze toward the back of the village.
There stood the mountains.
*
The Verdi region in the southern Iron Kingdom was a landscape of dense mountains. Most of the terrain consisted of rugged, precipitous peaks rather than flat land. The population was sparse, and since the capital had little interest in the south, there had been no development whatsoever.
As a result, the Verdi region remained almost wild—so much so that even bandits usually abandoned it, claiming there was nothing worth stealing.
The winding mountain paths and the absolute darkness that fell with the sunset turned the place into a maze. Consequently, the members of the Red Wolf Brotherhood did not like this place.
“Dammit, why is the leader so obsessed with this backwater?”
“He’s always been eccentric. I guess he got interested in the grim rumors circulating in this village lately.”
“Since when are rumors in a backwater village anything new? It’s probably just some bards looking for attention or a drunkard talking nonsense!”
The bandits spat on the ground.
“Why did we come to this shitty countryside with no food, no women, and no beer?”
“The last village was great. All the men had been conscripted for the war, so it was nothing but women, right? Ah, I should have settled down there.”
“Keke, if you’d stayed there, you’d have over ten wives by now. Just like the Red Count.”
They walked while barely pushing back the encroaching darkness with the torches in their hands. The rugged, uneven mountain path made them feel as if their strength was being drained with every step.
“I want to leave this tedious village and go somewhere else already.”
“Tell me about it. I don’t know what the leader thinks is here.”
Navigating a mountain after sunset was no easy task. Even experienced rangers had to move with caution in the mountains of Verdi; for uneducated bandits, navigating them skillfully was nearly impossible.
“I’m freezing to death. Does the weather always turn like this as soon as night falls?”
“It’s a godforsaken backwater, isn’t it?”
They walked while looking only straight ahead, relying on their torches.
Because of that, there was something they failed to notice.
“By the way, why has the youngest been so quiet? It feels like only the two of us are talking.”
The fact that the boisterous voices were decreasing in number.
“...What the? Why aren't you guys answering?”
The fact that those decreasing voices had now dwindled to just one.
“Are you kidding me? Hey, you bastards. Don’t you know I hate these kinds of jokes?”
Only the man’s voice echoed along the mountain path. When no answer came, the man came to a dead stop. He trembled at the inexplicable situation.
“...Guys?”
Sensing an ill omen, the man turned his torch not forward, but behind him.
And—
“Uh—”
The Red Wolf members who had been following him were all sprawled on the dirt ground as if they were asleep. The man stared blankly at his fallen comrades.
Their eyes were wide open and their mouths agape, and every single one of them had a hole pierced in the exact same spot on their necks. From those holes, red, sticky blood was oozing out—
“W-wait. What the hell is—ack.”
The man, who had been babbling to himself in a panic, suddenly stopped. His trembling body was hoisted into the air.
Had a ghost appeared?
Or was it an attack by a wild beast?
Still unable to grasp the situation, the man’s body was slammed onto the dirt. Simultaneously, a horrific pain erupted near the Achilles tendons of both his ankles. Tendons were severed as skin and flesh were pierced. It was a sensation he had never experienced in his life, and the man was about to scream.
“Shh.”
But something covered his mouth to prevent him from making a sound. It was a hand. Not the hand of a ghost or a beast, but a human hand.
“Nothing special. Walking a mountain path like this without even preparing for an ambush.”
Amidst the maddening pain, the man was completely suppressed. The assailant had cut his ankle tendons, was pressing a knee firmly into his chest, and was pinning his wrists down with some unknown tools.
The most decisive factor was the presence of a dagger as sharp as a fang.
The mysterious assailant who had appeared from the darkness had subdued the man in an instant and was now holding the tip of a dagger against his throat. The man felt the cold touch of death against his skin.
An intense terror washed over him.
The corpses of his comrades, who had died with their eyes open, flickered in his mind.
“You’re not much different from the uninvited guests who came to see me before. Still, it doesn’t hurt to be careful.”
The voice he heard sounded youthful.
The assailant picked up the torch the man had dropped. As the flaming torch was raised, the assailant’s face finally became visible. The assailant was a boy.
He had a face as fair as a flower in a greenhouse—a boy in the middle of puberty, perhaps fifteen at most. But the man couldn't find the courage to get angry and shout, ‘Where did this brat come from—’
Because the boy’s eyes were as cold as an assassin from a Free City. If one only looked at his eyes, they could believe they were facing a ghost.
“I have questions.”
The boy spoke while glaring at the man, and only then did the man realize the boy was no longer covering his mouth. His mind was in a whirl.
The fear of death was strangling him.
“Where is your bandit hideout? How many members do you have, and are there any dangerous individuals among them? Spill everything you know.”
The boy’s voice poured out like ice.
The man stammered and muttered.
“I-if I tell you, I’ll die.”
“You’re going to die by my hand anyway.”
“Hic, ugh, the—the leader, the leader will kill my whole family too.”
The man sobbed as he muttered.
The boy asked.
“Leader?”
“Y-yes! O-our leader is a m-monster.”
The man wailed.
This mysterious boy was terrifyingly scary.
He was afraid he would die pathetically like his comrades lying over there.
But as much as he feared immediate death, the man feared his leader more. A monster far larger and more cruel than this boy—someone he couldn't even consider a fellow human being.
To beg for mercy, the man squeezed out his voice and said:
“Our brotherhood’s leader is... a runaway knight.”
*
Night had fallen, bringing total darkness.
Petel, who had been dozing in front of the campfire, was awakened by a delicate touch.
“Knight, wake up.”
Normally, he would have woken the moment he sensed a presence even in a deep sleep, but the disease eating away at Petel’s body had now dulled his senses to that of an ordinary person.
Petel wiped the drool from his mouth and rubbed his eyes.
The one who woke him was Seol-yoon, the girl brought by Young Master Arhan.
“...Is something wrong?”
Not yet fully awake, Petel looked at Seol-yoon with half-open eyes, but her expression was unusual. Realizing something had happened, Petel hurriedly stood up.
Seol-yoon spoke.
“We have guests.”
“Oh dear. My condition isn't great.”
“You don’t need to worry about that.”
He didn't need to worry?
What did that mean? Seeing the confusion on Petel’s face, Seol-yoon elaborated.
“Because you wouldn't have been able to win even if you were perfectly healthy.”
Petel almost burst out laughing at Seol-yoon’s words.
No matter his current state, Petel hadn't been a knight to be trifled with in the past. Though he hadn't crossed the wall of a Sword Runner, he was still quite well-recognized through his grueling efforts...
“Ah.”
“I was right, wasn't I?”
But the moment he followed Seol-yoon to the village entrance, Petel admitted she was right. A group of knights was there.
Judges wearing silver helmets, clad in full suits of armor, and mounted on trained horses. Petel limped toward them and spoke.
“What brings such noble ones to a place like this?”
To Petel’s question, they gave a short answer.
“We have come to kill a runaway dog.”
A runaway dog.
There was only one type of being knights referred to by that name.
A runaway knight.
A knight who had abandoned his post and defiled his honor, which should have been more important than his life.
A knight order would never, under any circumstances, forgive a runaway knight.
Sensing the grim atmosphere, Petel asked for an explanation.
Soon, the knight at the front added.
“It seems a runaway dog has gathered some backwater insects and is pretending to be a wolf. He even had the audacity to name a filthy bandit group using knightly traditions, causing us great embarrassment. The knights of the capital are mocking us, saying we were severely beaten by a runaway dog.”
“...”
“We heard he goes around shouting the name Red Wolf Brotherhood or some such. We received intelligence that he is active in this area. If you know anything, we ask for your cooperation.”
Filthy bandits, knightly traditions, Red Wolf Brotherhood.
The moment those three terms combined, Petel’s eyes widened.
At the same time, the words he had spoken earlier came back to him.
‘If they’re just bandits who stole the traditions of knights to name themselves, there’s a chance a real knight order will hear the rumors and come to wipe them out.’
What he had said was only a possibility had become reality.
No, perhaps reality was far more dramatic than he had anticipated.
“Hey, say something.”
These were not just knights who had come for the purpose of wiping out a bandit group.
They had appeared in anger, carrying the justification of judgment.
As far as Petel knew, knights who were angry and had a justification became truly terrifying beings. Petel knew that fact all too well.
Furthermore, there was one thing that stood out immensely.
The man who appeared to be the leader at the front of the knight order.
“Cooperate while I’m asking nicely.”
From the man, a pair of wings—small but distinct—could be seen.
What that signified was clear.
“My patience is at its limit right now.”
He was a Sword Runner.