Chapter 9
Chapter 9
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: Trista's Ambush
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A few hours later.
"Oh."
Kallias let out a small exclamation of admiration as he walked the streets after barely managing to enter Trista.
Even the modest roadside flower beds were beautiful, and the buildings each had their own unique character.
The residents all had bright expressions, and in the center of Trista's square, a beautiful fountain sprayed water ceaselessly.
"Seeing it in person is definitely different."
"My lord, have you been here before?"
"No."
He nodded toward the thug Brans.
"You said you knew where the Lutens guy was."
"Of course. I know people, and that young master had the eyes of someone dying to gamble as soon as possible!"
Gambling, huh.
Then there was only one place he could be.
Cedric's gambling hall in Trista's bustling district.
‘I can deal with that guy and, if the chance arises, check out Cedric too.’
Kallias followed Brans's lead down the street.
After walking for a while, the surrounding buildings started looking rundown.
Kallias's eyes narrowed.
"This way! This is a secret gambling den that only those in the know frequent!"
"Is that so."
At Brans's urging to go in first, Kallias strode inside.
As expected, pushing open the nearly collapsing door revealed a shabby table and a few scattered chairs inside.
That was when it happened.
Clang!
A rapid rattling of chains from the ceiling, and something came crashing down on Kallias.
Thud!
A massive iron cage.
Perfect for trapping people.
It had dropped from the ceiling. He'd half-suspected it, and sure enough, it was a trap.
"Hahaha! You followed me like a dumb dog without a single suspicion! Hey, mister! Aren't you an idiot!?"
Brans laughed mockingly, jeering at Kallias. Then, thugs with similar speech and looks slunk out into view.
"Hey, Brans! You reeled in a big one again!"
"Fisherman Brans! You caught a pilgrim—another score! As expected! Catching a pilgrim? That's worth a fortune."
"Just sell him to the right lord, and we'll never worry about swords again. We're sitting on a gold mine!"
They planned to sell Kallias off.
Pilgrims weren't common, but due to their wandering nature, there were those who targeted them. Lords preparing for territorial wars often imprisoned pilgrims to exploit them for sword-making, skimping on military funds. Such cases were easy to find.
"How much do you think we'll get this time? At least a thousand gold coins?"
"A thousand? At this time, we might get over three thousand."
"You idiot! What lord's gonna pay that much? With guys everywhere selling off their lands to the Empire for cash, a thousand would be a steal. Whatever, just cut off a leg quick."
To prevent escape.
"Hey, who's got the paralyzing poison?"
"Here."
A thug handed over a dagger coated in poison, and another hurled it.
But.
Clang!
"What? He blocked it?"
Kallias easily deflected the dagger with Arsando.
"What are you surprised about? Throw it again! Even a pilgrim can't block several at once."
Not a bad idea, but Kallias didn't wait for them to throw their poison-coated blades simultaneously.
Whoosh! His sword flashed out.
An invisible sword path trailed a long tail, ringing with steel in that instant.
Screech, rumble!
"You crazy bastard!!"
The iron cage was sliced apart.
With the cage that had trapped him severed, what followed was obvious.
"Aaah! Save me!"
Brans pissed his pants at the screams of his brothers echoing from all sides. Kallias's sword was relentless, cleanly taking their lives.
It was like dozens of swords splitting apart—swift and precise swordwork.
Brans couldn't even track how the sword was drawn or swung.
He'd seen knights' swords before during their dirty dealings.
Those were flashy and beautiful, but the pilgrim's sword before him was not.
A sword purely for killing.
No flair, no form—just simple, certain, murderous steel.
No pretense.
Utterly practical swordsmanship, Brans felt.
A moment later.
Kallias walked out of the rundown bandit den, shaking blood from his sword, with Brans trailing behind.
He was huffing and puffing, dragging out the corpse swords his brothers had become.
"You're slow."
He was struggling with a bundle containing over a dozen.
Twelve swords in total. The weight was considerable. Brans looked like he might die from it but forced a smile through his pale, ashen face.
"I-I'll hurry, my lord!"
Brans and Kallias headed to a nearby weapons shop with the corpse swords.
"Nice swords. You selling these?"
"Yeah..."
"Hmm... Fine. One gold each."
"Heh! Dismissing my brothers for just one gold! Make it three!"
"Brothers? What are you on about, Brans? You hit your head or something?"
"Fine, three it is! Sob!"
"Why are you crying, geez."
Ignoring Brans haggling with a flushed face, Kallias scanned the surroundings.
‘Trista Market's over there, huh.’
The sun dipped low, darkness beginning to fall. The residential areas dimmed, but the opposite side was different.
As if awaiting night, colorful lights twinkled, and dressed-up nobles began crowding in.
And beneath that glamorous district lay Trista's Black Market, said to sell anything.
"My lord, we're done! I'm a whiz at haggling, heh heh. Take a look! No one else could get this price anywhere!"
"Hm."
Jingle jingle.
The coin pouch was full.
‘Twenty-four gold coins.’
Two gold per sword, apparently.
"Not bad."
"Heh heh."
They were low-quality corpse swords from mere thugs.
Trading them for twenty-four gold was pure profit.
Now he had thirty-nine gold coins and one silver left.
‘This guy...’
Kallias pondered what to do with the thug Brans.
The world he was born into was cold and harsh.
Half-hearted mercy only gave chances to be bitten in the neck.
Best not to leave loose ends.
‘Brans.’
But he was still useful.
He might stay in Trista for days, and terror was etched into Brans's eyes, unlikely to fade.
He could deal with him after finishing business here.
"Lead the way. To the gambling hall where the Lutens guy is."
"Yes, sir!!"
* * *
The gambling hall was called Cedric's Casino.
Operated by Cedric himself.
"My lord, I've handled entry. Make yourself comfortable..."
I walked straight in.
No more need for Brans's guidance from here.
Countless tables, dealers and gamblers seated.
Some with bloodshot eyes, mad for winnings; others desperately praying to the gods.
Several nobles gambled too, knights in tow.
Finding Lutens's whelp—who'd screwed me over—amid the chaos shouldn't be hard.
"Hm?"
Or so it should have been.
Baldwin de Lutens.
But he was nowhere.
Not in the casino anywhere.
"Why isn't he here."
The guy who should be was missing.
Stopping, I turned; Brans flinched, eyes wide.
Then he waved his hands frantically, excusing himself.
"It wasn't me! As you know, my lord, I've been with you the whole time!"
"You could've signaled behind my back."
Shing, hiss!
Half-drawing my sword made a metallic ring.
His face went ghost-white, sweat beading.
"I-I, Brans, will find him for sure! Definitely!"
With that, Brans bolted off somewhere.
Ten minutes later.
Just as I was about to rise from my seat, thinking he'd fled.
"My lord."
"You're back. Found him?"
"Yes, I did. But... it's..."
Brans's expression was odd.
He'd found him, but looked like he'd seen something awful.
"What? He's dead?"
"Y-Yeah..."
"What?"
From the story.
Baldwin de Lutens.
He was apparently quite talented at gambling.
But he'd blown his fortune in Trista's casino in an instant, lost his temper, started a knife fight, and died.
Just an hour ago.
"What an absurd guy."
Thanks to a casino staffer Brans knew, we saw the body. Hard to believe without seeing it myself.
A moment later.
Seeing Baldwin in a sack, Kallias acknowledged his death.
Baldwin's body was cold.
Around the corpse clustered a sheen of sorrowful silver light.
The glow of corpse silver.
"I'll take Baldwin."
"Huh? He's a noble, so that might be tricky..."
The casino staffer refused, subtly rubbing his fingers.
Asking for a bribe.
Flicking him a gold coin, he snatched it gleefully and vanished.
I promptly turned him into a corpse sword.
With a faint light, his memories flowed into my mind.
Before him: piled glasses and ashtrays. Bags of chips stacked around.
The dealer's sour face and similar looks from security told the tale.
‘He won big at first.’
Dice gambling.
Pure luck.
Who knew he'd rake it in with dice.
But it wasn't for fun. His mindset was serious, desperate resolve.
‘For the family.’
Lutens family's eldest son.
His only talent: gambling.
So he'd come to earn money for the house.
Not just a wastrel, then.
But that lasted only briefly.
Suddenly, he lost all his stacked chips.
Enraged at the impossible loss, Baldwin drew his knife, fought, and died by his own blade? No—stabbed by his own in the scuffle.
‘His wish...’
To reclaim his family's money.
"Annoying corpse silver."
"Huh? What was that, my lord?"
Ignoring Brans's question, I headed into the casino.
Baldwin de Lutens.
At first, the name didn't ring a bell.
But seeing his death confirmed it.
I remember Baldwin's name.
Because.
He bore a setting I created.