Two Promises

The fight ended almost without ceremony.

The moment I activated both aura cores, a single stroke of my sword took the assassin's blade—and the fingers still wrapped around it. Stripped of any power to resist, he dropped to his knees before me.

"Kill me."

That was all he said.

I had no intention of granting him a tidy death. There was information I still needed.

"No. Killing you outright would be a waste."

On the chance he had something left in reserve, I severed the tendons in all four limbs. Unable to move, he clenched his jaw and glared up at me.

"I've got questions."

"And you think I'll answer them so easily?"

I studied the calm in his eyes. Death stood right in front of him, and still an unyielding will showed through.

This is going to be a nuisance.

I clicked my tongue inwardly.

"Wouldn't it be better to simply take him back to the ducal house?" Greg murmured at my side.

That was no answer either.

"The road's too long, isn't it? Think you can watch him the whole way?"

Even if we marched through the night, the ducal estate was still days off. We could stop an escape along that road. What I couldn't promise was stopping him from shattering his own aura core and sending his mana into a suicidal rampage.

Greg caught the implication, and his brow furrowed.

"Then... shall we try torture?"

"Do you even know how?"

"Er... don't you just hit them?"

I shook my head. One look at the assassin's eyes was enough. Crude pain would never open this man's mouth. It would take professional interrogators working him for days before anything useful came of it, and I was no professional—nor did I feel like wasting that kind of time.

"What are you waiting for? Kill me already!"

"Stay still!"

While I was still turning it over, he thrashed and tried to smash his own head into the ground. Greg stopped him. At this rate, stalling would get us nowhere, and I needed him talking one way or another.

I ran through the possibilities, then used Insight on the assassin.

Perhaps because he was a 3-Star Knight. His stats outranked mine, so the window didn't show me everything—but still.

"Oh..."

He had a trait I hadn't expected.

An assassin, and a filial son?

It was almost too absurd to be funny. It was also welcome. For a man this rigid, nothing was more frightening than torture—except a hand laid on his family.

Once I had a sense of how to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠play it, I spoke his true name.

"Zahir Akrabi."

"...!"

His eyes flew open. The composure that had never once cracked showed the faintest fracture.

"How do you know that name..."

"Did you think I wouldn't know who you were?"

His brow tightened. Until now he had only parroted the same demand—kill me. At last a slow sense of danger crept into his eyes.

I watched him in silence, then spoke again.

"If you say nothing here, you won't be the only one who dies."

"What...?"

"Are your parents well? Do you have children?"

I said it the way a villain threatens the hero in some gangster film I had seen once. Strange, how natural it felt—the tone, the atmosphere, even the face I found myself wearing. I had never thought I had a gift for acting. Apparently this sort of thing suited Lucas's nature all too well.

"Laughable. Knowing my surname and given name changes nothing. I can hardly be the only man in the world who bears them."

Zahir snorted as he answered, insisting a name alone could never lead me to his home or his family. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠He wasn't wrong. This ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was no world with a civil registry, and the clues really were thin. So I added a little seasoning.

"Foolish. Who do you imagine told me about you in the first place?"

"What...?"

"Who do you think I heard your true name from?"

At that, Zahir went still, as if time itself had stopped.

"It can't be..."

His face crumpled. I had no idea whom he suspected. He clearly did. There was no need for me to pile anything more onto it.

All that remained was the threat.

"Zahir. Here and now, I make you two promises."

"......"

"The first: if you stay silent, or if you lie, I will find every member of your family and kill them one by one. I'll mount their heads on pikes, so that no one like you ever reaches for my life again."

I had no real intention of doing any such thing. But Lucas's infamy seemed to be useful at moments like this. Zahir believed every word without a shred of doubt.

I went on.

"The second: if you tell me the truth, I will forget your family. The heads on the pikes will belong to the ones who sent you."

At that, the will that had stayed so straight finally wavered. His eyes found me, caught between shock and the sting of betrayal.

"And how... am I supposed to believe that?"

"Belief has nothing to do with it. It's only natural. If you were me, would you bother remembering some underling who moved on orders—or the true enemy who ordered your death?"

"......"

Zahir squeezed his eyes shut and bit down on his lip, hard enough to draw blood. He no longer had a choice. His deliberation did not last long.

With the task finished, I returned to the ducal house and reported everything I had learned to the Duke.

"The Ehrenfels Barony..."

Duke Keiser's brow furrowed at the name of the party that had ordered my assassination.

"What sort of house is that?"

I asked because, though I had heard the name from Zahir, I honestly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠didn't know the family. It wasn't in Lucas's memories, and it didn't appear in Crius Saga either. Even Greg, my escort, said he had never heard of them. The Empire was vast and its noble houses many, so that was understandable—but it did mean they weren't anyone from around here.

"A house with lands in the eastern Empire."

The east—the region that ran out into the desert. In Crius Saga, I remembered that stretch of the map mostly for the dungeons buried under the sand.

"Then why would they want me dead?"

"Who can say."

Duke Keiser hedged, which wasn't like him.

"The Ehrenfels Barony is not a powerful house. If anything, they're obscure. So if there is a hand behind them... it would be the Fervalren County. Ehrenfels belongs to that faction."

From there, Keiser laid out a brief account of the noble factions. The Empire's aristocracy was divided into five. The line that split them was simple enough: the four directions, with the imperial capital at the center.

"The first is the Imperial faction, gathered around the Emperor. Mostly nobles from near the Imperial Capital."

After that came the Auswald Margrave in the north and the Loenheim Ducal House in the south. In the east, the Fervalren County; in the west, the Esmarr Marquisate—each drawing the surrounding nobles into its orbit.

"Compared to the north and south, which face clear threats, the east and west guard the Empire's borders and still receive little support from the state. They have always complained of it, and political relations have stayed cold because of that. However..."

They were not enemies deep enough to assassinate one another, Keiser added.

"......"

Whether he was trying to read the matter in political terms, he fell silent and said no more.

I already sensed this was not merely politics. More than the fact that an assassin had been sent, the timing was too precise. Why now, of all moments? Why, on the eve of a war that might collapse the southern defensive line, try to kill a useless burden of the ducal house?

So I asked.

"If I had died, what would have happened?"

At that, Keiser stared at me flatly. The look all but said, You? Nothing at all would have happened.

That wasn't what I meant, so I rephrased.

"I don't mean trouble inside our house. If anything, my death might have been good news for the ducal family."

"You do say such things rather easily, with your own mouth."

"But they must have been after something too. Some profit in killing me."

Keiser's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Profit in killing you... At most, our house's prestige in the south would take a hit."

"Prestige?"

"A so-called knightly house of renown, and its eldest son murdered in its own front yard. How could it not?"

It sounded plausible. I pressed on.

"And after that?"

"Our influence among the southern noble houses might weaken somewhat. But that would only be temporary. It wouldn't last."

Keiser said as much, but I shook my head inwardly. That temporary effect might have been exactly what they wanted.

"So if I died, and people began to doubt Loenheim's authority... the southern nobles might not commit themselves fully to the all-out war. Is that it?"

The coming war in the Great Forest would not be fought by Loenheim alone. It was a war in which every southern noble house, with Loenheim at the center, would supply goods and soldiers. In a way, it was a group project. If the house at the center lost its grip, some of those nobles—stingy with their coin and their troops—might try to slip free of it.

"I won't deny that. But to say they aimed for it is speculation. How would outsiders foresee the Great Forest's movements and pull something like this?"

Keiser's words were perfectly sensible. I, who knew how this war ended, could not afford to think only in sensible terms.

Something had felt off. The Loenheim Ducal House, from everything I had seen so far, was no house to take lightly. Centered on Duke Keiser, a Sword Master, the knights' spirit was well honed, and the soldiers who upheld those knights were thoroughly trained. So why, in Crius Saga, had this southern front collapsed so easily?

At first I had assumed it was simply because the demons were many, and strong. After this, though, I wondered whether something had broken a cohesion that solid. The suspicion took root.

"In any case, stay out of it from here and forget it. This is no longer a place for you to step in."

I was itching to argue, but he was right. Dealings between noble houses were still beyond me. Even if I could involve myself, there was nothing I could do. Press a count or a baron on the strength of this, and all I had was a dead assassin's word. If they denied it flatly, that would be the end of it.

"Understood."

I meant to withdraw then and there. Keiser stopped me.

"Wait. Take what I promised you."

He drew something from his desk and held it out. A palm-sized piece of metal, ornate, shaped like a shield. I had never seen it before, but Lucas's memory supplied the answer at once.

"The house token I confiscated from you. Take it."

Just as he said, it was the token that had been given to Lucas—an imperially certified proof of noble rank and name. With it, Duke Keiser was returning, as promised, the authority as a noble he had once stripped away.

"I'll receive it with thanks."

I tucked the token away, pleased. And just as I truly turned to go—

"Your Grace! Urgent news!"

Someone pounded on the door of the Duke's office and shouted from outside. On any ordinary day it would have been insolence enough to earn formal punishment.

"Let them in!"

At the word urgent, the Duke had the door opened without another word. A soldier came straight through. Wherever he had run from, he was gasping hard, and he didn't even catch that breath before he cried out.

At the soldier's words, Duke Keiser's face went hard.