Live Like a Good Person
The rest of the journey went remarkably smoothly.
Trivial squabbles broke out, someone slammed a fist against their chest and fumed while another snickered openly—rowdy, unremarkable, and unworthy of a second glance from anyone. An utterly ordinary journey.
Through it all, Arendt played his role as the perfect traveler. A wealthy family's second son, fond of travel even in ordinary times, escorting his elder brother on his first long solo journey amid a band of dim-witted mercenaries.
That was the role Arendt had crafted for this trip.
Watching him casually strike up conversation with travelers they ran into at rest stops and inns, laying on lies with a practiced ease, the rest of the party couldn't help but stare at him in dumbfounded disbelief.
Meanwhile, the knights too had somehow been quietly drawn into the act, pulling off the mercenary masquerade with surprising smoothness. Richt, who had no talent for acting to begin with, simply kept his mouth shut tight—which was, in its own way, a contribution to this clumsy theater troupe.
Perhaps thanks to that, aside from the mishap on the first day, they reached the vicinity of their destination without any real trouble.
The moment they drew near the territory's walls, Richt finished his transmission with Laios.
Having tucked the Communication Crystal Ball back into his breast pocket, Richt gave his comrades a brief report.
"The Commander's group has arrived nearby as well. Members of the Intelligence Division will come out to meet us soon. ......By the way, where's Arendt?"
"Over there."
Arthur tilted his head toward one side.
Following his gaze, they spotted Arendt mingling among a cluster of travelers, exchanging light small talk.
Ryder murmured distantly.
"That punk...... when you really watch him, he blends in everywhere without anyone noticing, doesn't he."
It was a fact they'd learned over the course of this journey.
He tossed out rude remarks without a shred of courtesy, yet the way he carried on perfectly smooth conversations with total strangers was nothing short of uncanny.
Arthur waved a dismissive hand.
"The guy cracks jokes with His Highness the Crown Prince. Why act surprised now?"
"That's exactly what's so strange about it."
Glenn grumbled in agreement.
A few words with the little bastard made his blood boil, and then that infuriatingly slippery tongue of his would drag him along until he snapped out of it and found himself spouting nonsense right alongside him.
"Damn it all. Speaking of which, shouldn't we be heading in by now?"
"Fair point."
By the time the travelers they'd been chatting with had gone on into the city and Arendt came ambling back toward the group, Glenn immediately rounded on him.
"What the hell were you talking about over there? What if you draw attention to us?"
"Drawing attention is out of my hands. I'm just that exceptional."
Wham!
A fist sliced through empty air. But Arendt dodged it with a simple tilt of his head.
"Tch."
"Haven't you figured it out by now? A stiff, silent bunch looks far more suspicious. Honestly, a mercenary who throws punches at his employer is a much better look."
Glenn, who had been growling like a wild beast, had no choice but to shut his mouth at that follow-up.
As Arendt straightened up and brushed off his clothes, Arthur sidled over and asked quietly,
"What'd they say?"
"Nothing much. Apparently it's a place that looks fine on the outside but has a bad reputation, so they advised us to stay in the inn at night if we know what's good for us."
"Seems we came to the right place after all. It looks quite peaceful on the surface......"
Arthur grumbled in response to Richt's comment.
The scenery faintly visible beyond the entrance was serene and quiet, steeped head to toe in that particular atmosphere unique to country villages.
Then—
Rustle.
At the sound of an unfamiliar presence, the knights all fell silent and turned their heads. A young man in plain clothes was glancing around as if searching for someone, and then he spotted the group.
The youth approached them, tension plain on his face. The party stiffened their shoulders in unison for a moment—but quickly relaxed.
It was the prearranged signal.
"Excuse me...... would you happen to be the knights, sir?"
"Hendel of the Intelligence Division?"
Richt stepped forward.
Only when addressed by name did the young man nod in visible relief.
"Yes, my name is Hendel. I received word in advance. My apologies for the attire."
"You've been through a lot. How goes the Security Department?"
"I took a leave of absence to come here. You needn't worry about that."
"Taking a leave of absence means we can't count on the local security captain's cooperation, I take it?"
Arendt, who had been listening quietly, cut in abruptly. Hendel nodded awkwardly.
"Unfortunately...... yes."
The knights' faces hardened.
Hendel hastily scanned their surroundings, and having confirmed no one was nearby, pressed on quickly.
"The captain was bought off by them. Our squad leader resisted and was framed and thrown in prison, and the other members who witnessed it don't even dare think about defying him."
"Do they all side with the captain, then?"
Richt, listening quietly, asked.
"About half the members are biding their time, waiting for a chance...... but given the balance of power, they're in no position to act rashly."
"Does the Lord of the territory know nothing of this?"
"No, sir...... The security captain is making sure nothing reaches the Lord. Half the other officials are in league with them, and the rest haven't grasped the situation properly."
It was no different from a city one step away from falling entirely into the criminals' hands.
Arthur clicked his tongue and scratched roughly at his head.
"Then obviously they'd have kept it hushed from the priests too. If no priest had vanished, the Temple would never have had reason to step in."
And on top of that, the High Priest had tried to bury the matter in the name of decorum—had Arendt not stirred things up, this place might well have become a veritable den of criminals by now.
Though the High Priest surely hadn't known the details.
Arendt gave a shrug.
"Things have gotten a bit more complicated, but...... what we need to do isn't all that different."
"Lodging has been arranged in advance, so let's head there first. I'll guide you there once night falls deep."
At Hendel's words, the knights nodded.
A short while later.
Having taken rooms at an inn on the outskirts, they dumped their baggage haphazardly and gathered in a single room.
As though not a moment could be spared, Richt was the first to speak.
"I heard there's a private gambling hall outside, and a separate base of operations."
"Yes, that's correct. They recruit people at the outer gambling hall, then invite anyone who catches the eye to the base and draw them into truly high-stakes games. That's how it operates."
"People who catch the eye?"
"Regulars, people who win enormous sums, and, on the other end, those who've gambled away everything they own. All of them."
Hendel went on, his face rigid.
"Those who win are steered into losing everything at an even bigger gambling hall, and those left penniless are loaned money at crushing interest. The borrowers use that money to gamble again......"
"And in the end, they can't shoulder the debt and lose their entire fortune."
"That's right."
When Glenn chimed in, the young man nodded.
"That's how they extort money, and while paying bribes to nobles and officials, they keep expanding the operation. Just recently, it seemed they'd used a proxy to purchase a building."
"You've mapped it out in remarkable detail. Have you been tracking them alone this whole time?"
"Yes, for now anyway. I'm just glad I could be of help, however small."
Only at Richt's words did Hendel finally manage a faint smile.
Richt gave the youth a small nod of acknowledgment, then folded his arms.
"First, we need to settle on a detailed plan of action. This may be trickier than we expected. They seem to have seized control of the city with considerable care and secrecy. These aren't common thugs."
"Agreed. An operation that size will have tight security. We'd best avoid armed conflict as much as possible until everything is wrapped up."
It was Arthur's opinion.
Find out where the missing people were, raise hell, and slip away. It didn't sound nearly as easy in practice as it did out loud.
After listening for a while, Arendt finally opened his mouth.
"Can anyone walk into that base of theirs?"
"You could manage it by posing as a wealthy client. From what I understand, they even run a lounge exclusively for such people."
"Hmm......"
The apprentice knight rolled his eyes with a vague hum. The knights' expressions turned sour in an instant.
Having arrived at the very same thought, Arthur spoke for all of them.
"You. What scheme are you cooking up this time?"
"Playing the client is all well and good, but I doubt that alone will get us the information we want."
Surprisingly, the answer came back meekly.
"I considered grabbing one of them and beating the information out of him, but from the look of things that'll be difficult too. Which means what we can do is infiltrate without raising suspicion."
Having said exactly that much, Arendt slowly swept his gaze over his seniors.
"Any of you know how to gamble?"
"......"
"How about playing the drunken wastrel?"
"......"
Everyone had no choice but to clamp their mouths shut like clams.
Playing mercenary out in the open was one thing—but this was a different beast entirely. It was all too easy to picture the group, wedged into a scene of vice and debauchery, awkwardly glancing around at their surroundings.
The knightly bearing and palace etiquette they'd breathed in like air their whole lives would not be easy to hide.
Arendt let out a long, deep sigh.
"I didn't expect much from the start, but...... I suppose Senior Arthur is the only useful one here. And even that's a bit questionable."
"Hey, hey! Useful? What am I, a tool?"
"So you're saying the rest of us are useless, you little bastard?"
Protests erupted from every direction, all of them complaining about different things.
Arendt plugged his ears and waited a while for the uproar to die down.
"In that case, why not just mix in with genuine hoodlums—the kind who fight well and top the charts in delinquency—puff away on who-knows-what rolled up in paper, gulp down liquor, and try your hand at gambling."
"......"
Silence fell in an instant. Unaccustomed to this atmosphere, Hendel of the Intelligence Division broke into a cold sweat and did nothing but stare at the distant horizon.
Richt took charge of the mood.
"Do you have some other good idea, then?"
"Rather than easing our way in awkwardly, I think making a loud, rowdy entrance might work nicely."
What in the world is this kid even saying.
Everyone was dumbfounded. Even Hendel, who'd been pretending not to listen.
"Isn't it more natural to kick the door down and raise hell demanding to see the proprietor right now, than to come tiptoeing up and knock like a coward?"
"......"
There was a problem with this brat's nonsense: every now and then, it sounded disturbingly convincing.
"Slipping in among them without a shred of suspicion is practically impossible. The more shady the business, the more wary they are of every first-time customer, no matter who."
Arendt's golden eyes glinted.
"But what if we start by seizing the initiative? Strike a fierce, unforgettable first impression—so overwhelming that afterward there isn't even room for doubt, and their souls simply empty out."
And the biggest problem of all was that this damned brat of an apprentice knight had more than enough ability to make his own nonsense reality.
Having confirmed that his seniors were finally starting to lend an ear to his words, Arendt shrugged his shoulders out of habit.
"I'm not saying we charge in blindly. I'm saying we should draw up a slightly more detailed plan. So long as the outcome is the same, who cares how we get there?"
"No, that isn't quite—"
Richt quietly objected, but naturally, he was ignored.