The Best Defense Is a First Strike
The knights of the 3rd Order, who had been waiting close by, soon reached the garden.
Count Stadler guided them at a hurried pace toward the mine, and Laios came face to face with three figures climbing the stairs — looking utterly wrecked.
"Wha…?"
For once, Laios stumbled over his words.
An understandable reaction. Where were the polished knights who had departed so crisply, and where had these vagabonds come from?
Their hair and faces were caked in filth, their robes half torn to shreds, and the uniforms beneath were smeared head to toe in dirt.
There was a great deal he needed to hear from them.
But looking at his subordinates' sorry state, none of that businesslike talk would come out of his mouth. In the end, Laios pressed a hand to his forehead and let out a long, deep sigh.
"…It seems the situation is resolved, so go clean yourselves up first."
"Ah, I noticed earlier on the way out… there's a well over there that the workers use."
Count Stadler quietly pointed toward the garden construction site.
Without a word of complaint, the three trudged off in the direction the Count indicated.
Before they moved, Arendt tossed out a remark as carelessly as ever.
"The debris scattered inside the stairwell is what's left of the golem, so try not to be too startled."
"What? A golem?"
"Also, Marquis Grig is dead."
At those following words, Laios's expression hardened like stone.
"…I heard that much."
"I went back to double-check just in case, and he was already gone. Looks like it was instantaneous. Handle the arrangements as you see fit, Commander."
With that, Arendt left without a flicker of hesitation.
Laios stared after his retreating figure for a while, then gave a small shake of his head and turned toward the entrance leading into the mine.
"Let's go. We need to investigate first."
"Sir!"
The knights, who had been standing there dumbstruck, snapped to attention and answered with a resounding boom.
The garden construction was halted on the spot.
After soothing the bewildered laborers who had no idea what was going on and sending them home, the knights descended underground — and promptly broke out in exclamations of dismay at the golem remains clogging the stairwell from top to bottom.
Long arms and legs, and a head still blinking with light that hadn't yet faded from its eyes, all strewn about wherever they happened to roll — the sight was more than enough to turn anyone's blood cold.
But knights were knights.
True to form for an order assembled from the best sword-fighters around, a few more golems were discovered deeper in the tunnels, yet the knights dispatched them without much trouble, and the body of Marquis Grig was recovered without incident as well.
By the time some composure had returned to Count Stadler and he joined them to begin surveying the ruins, Arendt and company reappeared looking at least somewhat restored.
Shaking out his water-drenched hair, Arendt grumbled.
"I honestly thought I was going to die back there. You seniors got lucky. If it weren't for me, you'd have been crushed under that golem."
"I might actually be grateful to you if you'd stop saying exactly that."
"What he said."
At Richt's feeble mutter, Arthur nodded wearily in agreement.
Count Stadler, who had been examining the room, caught the sound of their bickering and immediately lifted his head.
"Ah, you've arrived! Are any of you injured?"
"Pfft, we're fine. Getting hurt by a thing like that would be grounds for knighthood revocation."
Arthur flashed a good-natured grin, and only then did Count Stadler breathe a sigh of relief.
"Thank goodness. And — Sir Arendt."
"Yes?"
As Arendt turned, feigning innocence, the Count abruptly bowed deep at the waist.
"Thank you for saving me. If it weren't for you, Sir Arendt, I would be dead."
"It was hardly anything. If you died, Count, that would only make things worse for us."
The answer was lukewarm at best, but Count Stadler smiled regardless.
"I'm not saying this merely on account of what happened today. If I hadn't spoken with you at the banquet that night, Sir Arendt… I might have met the same end as Marquis Grig. Branded a villain to the very end."
Only then did Arendt turn his gaze to meet the Count's.
The Count smiled brightly and said it once more.
"Thank you. Truly."
"…"
Scratching the back of his head a few times, Arendt rolled his eyes around.
To think he'd hear words like these from the emblematic lunatic of The Blue Knight of the Sacred Sword.
After briefly imagining the man cackling gleefully amid blood-soaked ghouls, Arendt found himself studying the fragile-seeming Count Stadler before him with fresh eyes.
The Count still wore his smile over that pale face.
Arendt's lips curled up in a faint smirk.
"Don't mention it."
Count Stadler's face went briefly blank with bewilderment.
Leaving him as he was, Arendt spun on his heel and strode purposefully into the hidden chamber.
Surrounded as it was by magic crystals, the air of the entire underground space was so crisp it was hard to believe they were beneath the earth. This room in particular felt remarkably pleasant.
Arendt soon spotted a large magic crystal embedded in the ceiling.
That, it seemed, was what served as this space's air purification device.
Count Stadler, hurrying after him, launched into an explanation.
"I've had a brief look around, and it appears this was a space used by an ancient archmage. It seems the entire mine was made into a living space."
"A living space?"
"Yes. The large cavern at the center of the tunnels, outside, also seems to have been created a very long time ago. My guess is that the owner of this room was the one who made it."
When Arendt asked the short follow-up, the Count supplied the answer without missing a beat.
Inside the room, not only grimoires but all manner of household goods, clothing, and simple furniture remained intact. Thanks to the magic crystals, barely any dust had settled — the room looked nothing like something abandoned for hundreds of years.
"The stairway leading to the exit seems to have been built when those people began developing the mine. Aside from that, there doesn't appear to be any other passage. The other knights are investigating as we speak."
"If there's no passage, how did the owner come and go?"
"Teleportation magic, most likely. These days, with magic being deployed en masse on the battlefield, that's become an impossibility — but in ancient times, there must have existed archmages capable of casting teleportation."
Having said that much, Count Stadler's voice rose with excitement.
"If we could uncover traces of such magic, that alone would be a tremendous discovery! It would rewrite the magical history of the Callion Empire!"
Letting the lecture wash over him, Arendt looked up at the ceiling again.
He hadn't paid it much attention before, but an old ceiling fresco — apparently a celestial chart — remained there intact, carrying the weight of untold ages.
Just then, Laios, who had been organizing the mine outside, entered the room.
"Count, could you lend me a hand? We need to dispel the barrier enveloping the mine."
"Ah, yes! Of course!"
Count Stadler nodded quickly and hurried outside.
Now only the Commander, Arthur, Richt… and Arendt remained in the space.
Laios was finally able to voice what he'd been wanting to ask.
"I've heard the gist of it from Count Stadler. What exactly happened?"
"This is only my speculation, but."
Arendt began, as if he'd been waiting for the question.
"Isn't it possible they intended to abandon this mine from the very start?"
"Why do you think that?"
"It's obvious. They gave up the mine far more easily than expected. It's strange that only one person was left behind, too. They meant to take Count Stadler alone and slip away."
By then, more than enough time had passed to copy every last grimoire and experimental tool the previous owner had used. And once they'd extracted all the magic crystals they could carry, there was no reason to stay for anything else.
"They had already finished preparing their withdrawal, so even knowing Marquis Grig had stepped on their tail, they lured him here anyway — and set a golem trap at the entrance for good measure. And then we walked right into it, didn't we? Picture-perfect."
It had been the same in the banquet episode of the novel.
Once exposed by Laios, they had left behind nothing but a single corpse disguised as a suicide and vanished without a trace. It was safe to assume they had arranged their retreat in advance that time as well.
"And the one who killed Marquis Grig?"
"He got away. My apologies."
"It wouldn't have mattered. You wouldn't have caught him even if you'd chased him."
Arendt added this to Arthur's glum reply.
The moment Arendt had laid eyes on the golem, he had thought of the man instinctively.
Vincent was a character who brought a wind of blood wherever he appeared.
Countless civilians were massacred by the combat-model golem, and even the knights dispatched to stop him suffered heavy losses.
The golem was one thing — but what troubled the knights most of all was the artifact the man possessed.
In the novel, Vincent used his artifact to control humans at will.
Arendt could still picture it clearly: the people turned into his marionettes wailing as they committed murder against their own will.
So he doesn't have the artifact yet?
If he'd used it, their side would have had a considerably harder time.
It was Richt's troubled voice that pulled Arendt out of his musings.
"So in the end, we walked straight into their trap."
"No, senior. We got out of it everything worth taking, didn't we?"
Arendt shoved his hands deep into his pockets.
"Why do you think they gave up the mine? Because they aren't ready to stand against the imperial family yet."
With their location already exposed, digging in to defend this place could just as easily have led to their own destruction.
"Like a frightened dog, they bolt with their tails between their legs — and we're the ones getting flak. Either way, all we have to do is make thrifty use of what they handed over to us."
The magic crystals and the golem fragments. And above all, the ancient grimoires and research materials left behind. Any one of them was more than a single expedition could reasonably hope to yield.
Richt, who had been listening silently, let out a short, abrupt remark.
"Arendt."
"Yes?"
"Are you all right?"
Arendt blinked at the out-of-nowhere question. Right beside him, Arthur clicked his tongue.
"That's right. Who told you to go charging off on your own, anyway?"
"Then you seniors should have moved a little faster."
Arendt's face scrunched into a scowl as he snapped back.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Laios asked, puzzled.
"That Vincent fellow declared war on Arendt before he left. Said he'd remember him."
Seizing the opening without hesitation, Arthur delivered the news — and Laios's face stiffened instantly.
"Is that true?"
"It's fine. There wasn't much I could do about it anyway."
"You little brat, we worry about you and—"
"Ah, everyone's got so much to say."
Just as Arthur opened his mouth to chide him further, Arendt beat him to the punch.
"Unless those people are fools, they'd have figured it out already. Nothing's going to change by bringing it up now."
It was his way of saying he had no use for needless fretting.
And there was nothing they could possibly add to that.
Just as a delicate silence threatened to settle, Arendt spoke again.
"Oh, and did you all know?"
"What?"
"The best defense is a preemptive strike."
What on earth kind of life has this kid lived?
For a man raised in a place like the House of Eckhart to turn out like this — it was truly beyond comprehension.
The three faces that had been full of worry slowly gave way to sheer exasperation.
"You're not joking."
"We know you're not joking, that's the problem, you brat!"
Arthur, who had grown notably quicker to anger lately, roared.
Well, that figures.
Wherever Arendt was, a serious mood was never going to last.
Laios exhaled a short sigh.
"Right. All three of you did well. Return to base and get plenty of rest."
"Any snacks around? I'm starving."
Wheeling around, Arendt began sauntering lazily toward the mine's exit.
At that very moment, the face he'd turned from his comrades went cold as ice in an instant.
'"I'll remember you…" is it.'
That was, if anything, a line better suited for this side to say.
And what he'd said to Arthur had been sincere as well.
Now that he had confirmed the man's existence, he couldn't simply sit still.
If this story was to end as a comedy, Vincent had to be dragged off the stage as quickly as possible.
'No need to wait for that — I'll come find him first.'
Arendt's steps quickened.
If his prediction held true, Vincent would resurface before long.
Probably with that damned artifact in hand, no less.
He had to be ready before that happened.
There was a great deal to be done once they returned to the Imperial Palace.