Chapter 74
Chapter 74
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 74
Chapter Title: The Golden Fox
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Evading the pursuit wasn't difficult.
We'd prettied up the guards' faces just right, then slipped away from the scene with a wagon loaded with cargo and provisions.
After stamping on the emblem of our pre-prepared disguise—a merchant caravan—and planting the flag, we escaped the city of Sodom, which had devolved into total chaos.
A little later, and we'd have been trapped inside.
I frowned, recalling the face of the bastard who'd caused all that trouble before vanishing.
The Eastern Crows—what kind of group pulls off such reckless mayhem?
Ronald, who'd been poring over the paper I'd handed him, shook his head.
"It's a name I've never heard before."
"No similar outfits?"
"If there were, I'd have known first."
If even Ronald, with his wide network, was hearing it for the first time, it had to be either a brand-new outfit or a small-scale group operating only in Sodom.
But for something like that, they had the capital to use fine paper, and the agitprop was written in an elevated style, like from someone with higher education.
This wasn't their first rodeo.
I pondered whether to let this variable outside our sphere of influence slide or dig into it.
Then Richard, who'd been rummaging through the papers in the wagon compartment, spoke up.
"Milord, isn't the message fine? It seems to align with what we're after."
"The intent might match."
"Pardon?"
"What they want is revolution with the masses at the helm—not reform of the royal house."
The reason I'd called this paper-wrapped agitprop a dangerous bomb was simple.
It didn't just vent frustrations with the current ills—it hinted at rejecting the entire system.
I'd bet my life that if even a sliver more enlightenment or ideology seeped into this notion, something entirely new would emerge on the continent—something alien, premature, and hostile to every race upholding kingdoms and nations.
"...It's complicated."
Richard scratched his head after mulling over my words.
It was too right on the money—and thus too perilous—for the young prince to grasp fully.
That was enough for now.
I shouted to the wagons trailing behind.
"Halt! Rest here!"
We'd fled Sodom without even a bowl of warm soup, thanks to the uproar.
Before fully entering the canyon, I ordered the knights to take a half-day break.
Murmurs rose.
The wagons creaked to a stop!
In an instant, a campsite sprang up around the wagons, with a massive pot slung over the fire.
Ronald rolled up his sleeves and stepped forward first to tackle the grunt work.
"Let me show off my skills. As the saying goes, when in the East, eat Eastern fare."
"Oh, got some special recipe?"
"The damp climate bred a lot of spice development. This one's called mint..."
Any lingering awkwardness between us had vanished by then.
I watched the Easterners and Northerners mingling freely, then pulled out the precious scroll I'd kept tucked in my bosom.
Local adaptation was complete.
Time to update the intel I'd put off and firm up our plans.
[White Gate.]
[Detailed internal structure.]
From what I'd heard, aside from many forward bases in the rear being gone, the White Gate's internals hadn't changed much.
But true to its role sucking dry the Eastern Kingdom's supplies, a massive supply depot behind the gate had ballooned into a city-like sprawl.
Designed to block the south, now repurposed for the north—they'd had no choice but to shift the depot from inside to out.
A structure perfect for sowing chaos.
Start a fire, and you could dump not just the gate's sustaining supplies but the waiting garrison troops into the inferno.
I began sketching timelines, factoring in time to scrounge weapons and march, to sync with the Northern Army's advance.
Rustle.
"- - - - - -?"
But then something inexplicable snagged at my senses, where I'd been sitting quietly.
Someone not from the knight order was approaching our makeshift camp.
Highway robbers? The footsteps were stealthy enough.
I rose silently from my seat, and the knights—who'd been laughing and chatting—froze and whipped their heads around.
The insect chirps cut off like a lie.
Only the crackle of campfire sparks eased the weight of the silence.
One second, two, three—standoff stretched on.
I drew my dagger, ready to advance on the unseen intruders.
Rustle, rustle, rustle.
But just before I could give the attack order, a group emerged from the dark brush.
They'd cleverly concealed their weapons—a band led by a woman, identities unknown.
The woman at the front spoke.
"...My skin's crawling. You were far off, but I thought my head was rolling."
"Who are you."
"Easy now, sheathe your sword, sir knight. We meant no threat."
"Hide your weapons proper before saying that. Speak before I really cut your throat."
Sea-blue eyes, golden hair cascading past her shoulders, a warrior's sturdy build.
The woman emerging from the hazy shadows bowed politely toward me.
"Curious about my name? In the Eastern Kingdom, they call me Helena."
What an odd combo.
Dressed like an Easterner, but the woman stepping from the dark was unmistakably Northern.
And Helena, as if aware of her bloodline's origins, continued with a subtle smile.
"In the North, I was the Golden Fox."
I lowered the dagger I'd been aiming slightly.
Then, in a softer tone, I asked this Northern kin I'd met far in the East.
"...From the North?"
"Yes, until I was sold as a slave."
Northerners, born with innate strength and exotic looks, fetched high prices as slaves if tamed.
Thus, in the kingdom's early fall, countless Northerners were shipped off as slaves abroad—Helena seemed one such case.
Pity welled up.
I'd never dreamed of meeting a rumored 'scattered brother' in a place like this.
I calmed the knights radiating menace, then sheathed my drawn dagger.
Then asked Helena, with her peculiar expression, why she'd sought us out.
"So, what's the business?"
"Seeking forgiveness."
Forgiveness? From a stranger like me?
Baffled, I watched silently as she acted.
"This way, please."
"S-sorry! Sir knight!"
A familiar-faced youth came rushing over, bowing frantically to me.
It was the perp who'd chucked the paper bundle and fled Sodom.
"Eastern Crows?"
"Smarter birds than the prejudice suggests."
Speak of the devil—the bomb I'd dodged had walked right to me.
Frowning, I ordered the paper bundle I'd meant to use as kindling brought over.
So that's how they'd tracked the camp—from Sodom onward?
Unhappy with the unintended connection, I kept my irritation hidden.
Clashing with locals here would just hinder our vital infiltration.
I roughly tossed the chaos-stirring bundle at Helena.
"Thanks. Was a pain transcribing it."
Transaction done.
I narrowed my eyes at the smiling Helena, silently issuing the send-off.
But she stepped forward, as if she'd had another goal from the start.
Openly prodding the tense line between our groups.
"Why would knights from the North seek weapons, I wonder."
"...Digging into us?"
"Merchants have loose lips by nature. Pay them, and they sell anything."
Helena already knew.
That we were Northern knights in merchant guise, seeking arms.
After barely half a day in Sodom—how deep had she probed?
Irritation surged anew; I drew the dagger I'd briefly sheathed.
One more word.
Nothing surer than a killing blow.
Clang!
Her startled band drew weapons, shielding her—never dreaming I'd fight their armored selves with a mere short dagger.
"Everyone, lower your weapons."
But Helena calmly corrected her men's misjudgment.
Being Northern-born, she knew what 'knight' truly meant.
"...Pardon?"
"Step back if you want to live."
Not a threat—a cold fact.
Halting her clueless underlings, Helena brazenly crossed the line, approaching me.
Thud.
She locked eyes with mine.
Now I saw: behind the narrowed eyes, no clear focus.
In its void lurked madness no feigned smile could hide.
"Don't we share the same goal?"
I'd thought her a fox masking her face—but a snake hiding beneath sane skin.
Now dagger-close, Helena whispered low enough for my ear alone.
"Want weapons? I'll provide them. Warhorses, armor—name it. Knights get what they seek; in return, just one tiny favor."
"My brothers look like tools to you?"
"Sturdy ones, at that."
Grind.
"You're utterly mad."
"How else could I survive?"
I couldn't indulge this any longer.
Irritation peaking, I shoved Helena back roughly and spoke firmly.
"Get lost."
Hatred-crazed fools drag ruin everywhere.
Better charge the gate solo than beg aid from this one.
As I bared thick killing intent toward Helena for daring to use my brothers, her face hardened like a wax doll, smile gone.
"Thought you pragmatic, sir knight. Guess I misjudged."
"I can make it eternally so."
Tsss!
At my signal, the knights unleashed their auras.
The final warning: keep talking, and it's over.
The air chilled like thin ice.
Only the heedless campfire spat sparks.
"If you say leave, we leave. Thanks for sparing us?"
Helena bowed politely.
Then melted into the dark with her band, her form distorting like ink-wash gone black.
Now, nothing visible.
Her final murmur drifted on the wind through the shadowed woods.
"You'll regret it. Golden-blooded lines always end the same. If you seek the right path, don't spurn the masses."
Whooooom——!
She knew of the Eastern prince's existence.
Before the deepening murk of Eastern politics, fatigue settled in.
Reading my dark expression, Richard approached cautiously.
He'd overheard Helena's parting words too.
"...Milord, I—"
"Enough."
Richard had followed from the North on one conviction: save the kingdom.
Overly soft toward the common folk, her barb at royal blood had surely shaken him.
But I firmly blocked him, halting his self-reproach.
One reason: Knight King Snow-Covered believed in the prince's potential.
I recited the late king's habitual advice, sharing it with Richard.
"Greatness isn't forged by bloodlines."
"...It'll be decided by the cradle I build."
"Right. Don't forget."
I flicked my dagger clean.
The lingering gloom washed away with the motion.
"Ronald!"
"Yes, milord!"
"Food ready?"
Ronald blinked at the sudden food talk.
But catching on, he hurried over with the bubbling pot.
Northern knights' chopped ingredients in Eastern spice soup.
I slapped Richard's slumped back hard, then shared the meal with the unit.
Taste didn't matter.
The warmth in the shared soup and bowls lingered stubbornly.
Journeys always bring hardship.
I busily bantered with my comrades, praying Mother North protect them.
Though something had nagged since earlier.
Mid-slurp, I asked Ronald about the oddly intrusive scent.
"...By the way, what's that spice called?"
"Mint."
"Hm. Skip it next time."