Chapter 215
Chapter 215
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 215
Chapter Title: 85. Wildflower (4)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
“Circus troupe, huh...”
Yuri muttered.
“Well, whatever. They’ll handle it themselves.”
Yuri didn’t pay much mind to the innkeeper’s words. Whatever backstory those escapees had, his top priority was reaching Balshard.
“We’re leaving early tomorrow morning, so everyone get some rest.”
“Yes, sir.”
Francesco grumbled.
“Is this the best this inn has? The bed’s so uncomfortable. I want something soft and fluffy...”
“Francesco.”
“Yeah?”
“If you don’t want to sleep on the ground, just go to bed.”
“...Okay.”
Yuri scolded Francesco regularly. He’d noticed it ever since the Sibylla incident—the guy had a real knack for earning a beating.
Even if Francesco regained his strength, Yuri was confident he could thrash him without hesitation.
“Damn it...”
Jared spoke to Francesco with a sympathetic nod.
“Our prince has quite the prickly personality, doesn’t he?”
“Tell me about it.”
“Maybe he needs some sweets...”
“More booze than sweets...”
“Oh, perfect. A drink later, then...”
Yuri would take the room alone, Jared and Francesco would share, and Simon and Guinness would bunk together.
Ignoring the pair, Yuri headed to his room. He perched on the edge of the bed, propped Guilty against it, closed his eyes, and sank into thought.
Ultimately, he needed to eliminate Cedric and the Dark Angel Commander Secretary together.
To do that, he vaguely sensed he had to perfect both Heart-Soul Severing and the power of chaos.
But it wasn’t easy.
Chaos inevitably summoned heart demons.
Whenever he closed his eyes, visions flooded his mind, forcing him to while away the hours without end. It was the same now. A torrent of distorted thoughts and images burrowed into his head.
Amid this chaos of random possibilities, finding the path was Yuri’s burden.
Suddenly, Cory came to mind.
The power of chaos resembled half-orcs. Inconsistent and unique to each individual. Most ended up as flawed forms and perished, but occasionally, miracles like Cory—born with the structure of a dragon’s speech organ—emerged.
Yuri sighed and muttered.
“I wonder if he’s learning well from that dragon.”
In Yuri’s eyes, Cruar wasn’t malicious at heart, but his mental state was far from normal. The constant mutterings to himself made it seem like full-blown mania could erupt at any moment.
Still, Yuri believed Cory would pull through.
He might seem fragile at first glance, but deep down, he was tenacious.
Yuri hoped Cory would soon master dragon-tongue magic and return as a major force against the Empire.
“Hmm...”
Noisy racket kept filtering in from outside. The villagers were still chasing the escaped troupe members.
“Over there, I saw them!”
“No, this way!”
Peering out the window, Yuri spotted a group hustling by with torches.
“Catch ’em alive for the bounty!”
“Slave scum—no issues there!”
“Bash ’em with clubs when we find ’em!”
Yuri stroked his chin.
He had no desire to meddle, but their words grated on him all the same.
“Hmmm...”
Grabbing Guilty, Yuri flung open the window and leaped down.
Despite dropping from the second floor, he landed without a sound.
He slipped into an alley and melted into the shadows. Spreading his senses to track the fugitives, Yuri dashed along the village’s backstreets. Villagers occasionally rushed past, oblivious to his presence.
Yuri headed in the opposite direction, unseen by all.
The escapees were clever. They’d stirred up distractions to divert attention, then slipped away the other way. No one but Yuri had caught on to their ploy.
He stopped before a large warehouse on the village outskirts—likely communal, given its size.
“Hmmm...”
Glancing around, Yuri knocked on the door.
His senses picked up the fugitives inside freezing in place.
Pushing open the creaky door, Yuri stepped in.
“Hey.”
Something hurtled toward him immediately.
“Well, now.”
It was a farm tool from the warehouse stores. Yuri sidestepped leisurely; the attacker stumbled and fell instead.
“Why so hostile?”
“Y-You...!”
Another charged with an iron poker. Yuri promptly kicked him down.
“Urk!”
“Hit him now!”
A dagger whistled from behind. Yuri tilted aside; it grazed a fellow escapee’s cheek.
“Eek!”
“Sorry!”
Another dagger flew. Yuri swiped the air, snatching it mid-flight.
He tossed the dagger into the air and eyed them coolly.
“Pretty good with knives. Acrobat, huh?”
Three circus troupe members hid inside.
Two stood frozen in fear; the short knife-thrower stared at Yuri, hand inching toward his pocket.
Yuri shrugged.
“Like one of those apple-on-head knife jugglers? Try it again, and I’ll just kill you.”
His smiling threat froze the man’s hand in place.
His earlier moves had already shown how outmatched they were.
“I’m not here to drag you in, so relax.”
Yuri scanned their faces one by one. Utterly ordinary looks. Even the knife-thrower was just short—nothing distinctive.
Yuri asked.
“So, what made you bolt from the circus?”
They stayed silent.
Yuri drew Guilty and waved it.
“I’ve got a sword too. Let’s talk it out while we can. Got it?”
It wasn’t a bluff—just fact. If he wanted, these three would be corpses rolling on the floor in seconds.
“So, what happened?”
One of the men in back finally spoke.
“The troupe leader tried to kill us, so we ran.”
“What?”
“Some rich noble brought swordsmen to off us. For fun. The leader doesn’t care what they do as long as the money’s good. We fled to survive.”
Their story went like this.
A wealthy Empire noble came as a patron one day, and they put on a show for him. Midway, he trotted out his swordsman and proposed a game: dodge the blade or die.
But the swordsman was no ordinary foe.
“We couldn’t even see the sword, let alone dodge it. He treated our lives like a toy.”
“I see.”
“It was our turn the next day. We got scared and bolted.”
Yuri nodded. Plenty of crazies like that noble out there.
“Got it.”
“Please, spare us.”
“I said from the start I’m not touching you.”
Yuri said.
“Here.”
He handed over a pouch of coin.
“Take this and make a run for it.”
“Uh...”
The troupe members gawked at him. Yuri grinned.
“My arm’s killing me.”
“Thank you!”
“Thanks so much...”
They bowed deeply in gratitude. Yuri shrugged.
“No big deal. Money’s useless if you can’t see tomorrow. It’s yours now.”
The circus would keep hunting them. A bit of cash wouldn’t end it. They’d be running for good.
“All because of that damn half-orc...”
One muttered. The words “half-orc” stuck in Yuri’s ear.
“Huh?”
He hadn’t meant to respond to Yuri.
Yuri pressed.
“Hey. What’d you just say?”
“Pardon?”
“Something about a half-orc?”
“Oh...”
There might be other half-orcs besides Cory, but Yuri couldn’t shake the concern.
“Well, our circus had this one half-orc.”
The half-orc they described was lazy, selfish, money-grubbing, and treated the others like fools—a lone wolf.
“Hmm...”
That explained the noble siccing his swordsman: offended by the half-orc.
Ignorant of it, the half-orc kept strutting, so the noble sent his man onstage for a lesson.
The ruthless noble ordered the swordsman to target the whole troupe. The leader delayed it with conditions.
In the meantime, some members fled. These three.
“That half-orc dead?”
“Yes, of course.”
“What was his name?”
Yuri, who’d listened quietly, asked. They exchanged glances and hemmed.
“Name? Half-orcs don’t get names. We just called it ‘this one’ or ‘that one.’”
“Yeah, no proper name.”
“Huh.”
Yuri tilted his head.
“Right. Couldn’t even speak properly, being a half-orc.”
“Yeah.”
Yuri had wondered if it was Cory but dropped it at their words.
Cory spoke fluently. Nothing like this one.
“Got it. Villagers are hunting you—go, quick.”
“Yes, sir...”
Yuri left the warehouse.
The troupe members huddled, whispering, then bowed to Yuri and headed out of town.
Wherever they ended up, it’d be a rough road.
“Guess I’ll catch some sleep.”
Muttering that, he turned back—only to see villagers charging this way.
“Hm?”
Yuri ducked into the shadows again.
The escapees heading out of town were about to clash with the villagers. He scratched his head.
“This is...”
Both sides were armed to the teeth.
Villagers outnumbered them, but the circus had a knife-throwing acrobat. If he targeted them seriously, plenty would die.
Yuri pondered once more.
Intervening would minimize deaths.
But whose side? He had no idea.
“Kill!”
“Raaah!”
They collided.
Yuri crossed his arms, deep in thought.
Screams echoed in the meantime.
“Hmmm...”
He decided to leave it be. No clear right or wrong. No ties binding him to step in.
Like wildflowers blooming or withering after their own struggles in the field, this was their fight. They’d find their own answers.
A few days earlier.
“C-Captain Rolang?”
Cory asked the masked swordsman.
His visible features differed vastly from the Rolang he knew, but something about him stirred that recognition.
Rolang was a noble who never lorded his status, kind to all. Cory respected him as much as Yuri Brioll.
“Is that you, Captain Rolang?”
But the man didn’t answer.
“Why here? Why like this...”
“I’m not Rolang.”
The reply came with mocking scorn. His voice was wrecked—raw and gravelly, as if his throat had been scraped raw.
Yet hearing it only confirmed Cory’s certainty.
“It’s you, Captain Rolang. How...”
Tears welled in Cory’s eyes.
“Captain Rolang. It’s me, Cory.”
The man Cory took for Rolang slowly drew his sword. Fearless, Cory stepped closer.
“Captain. Come with me to Prince Yuri...”
In that instant, the blade swung toward Cory’s neck.