Chapter 52
Chapter 52
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 52
Chapter Title: Act 1 of the Play: Evil Spirits Roam the Abandoned Mine (3)
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*
“I appreciate the offer to travel with us, but… I’m afraid it won’t be a journey to your liking, sir.”
Kailen spoke while watching the servants repair the damaged carriage. The troll’s attack had already crippled most of its transport functions. They had no choice but to camp here and request reinforcements from the merchant guild. The losses were immense.
“Don’t worry about that. I’m not in any particular hurry myself.”
“Are you on a wandering pilgrimage, then?”
“That’s right.”
“In that case, you might want to seek out Count Jest. I’ve heard Sir Bayemier has been staying with him lately.”
Kailen spoke cautiously when Fernandez showed no reaction.
“That… Sir Bayemier of the Round Table Council.”
“Hm? Oh. Ah, yes. Is that so?”
Fernandez nodded along vaguely. He was pondering how to respond. Who the hell was Bayemier? He didn’t remember every royal knight of the Round Table Council from his past life, let alone know the current members of this era.
“Quite an honor. Thanks for the tip.”
With a straight-faced nod, solemn as could be, Fernandez committed to the act. His plans for this journey already involved crossing paths with the Round Table Council anyway.
-Even half the strength of my past life would be a struggle.
‘A gathering of knights like that, and the Dane Kingdom ends up in such a pathetic state?’
In his past life, the Dane Kingdom had been a band of madmen centered around Vicente II, Helrga, Smier, and other great Round Table knights, crushing demon hordes and marching forward. Among the knight orders of the time, only the Empire’s Imperial Iron Sides could compare.
Paradoxically, the twilight of human civilization had been a true age of heroes. As demons poured into the material world and the Pantheon crumbled, as civilized kingdoms burned one by one, history had birthed more heroes than ever before.
Humanity’s end had blazed in glory. Fernandez fell into thought, recalling the heroes who had fallen by his hand. Had the era forged them, or had they forged the era?
“How far to the next village?”
“There’s an abandoned mining village nearby, but… to reach a proper village fit for a knight, it’s at least half a day more. It’s getting too late already… Would you mind camping here?”
“Abandoned mining village?”
“Well… it’s not a story fit for your ears, sir, but… it’s a shantytown built by lower-class folk who couldn’t pay their taxes. Not a suitable place to stay.”
The Dane Kingdom’s wartime tax rate was seventeen to one for common freemen. Serfs faced nearly nineteen to one—heavy levies indeed. So, during famines or when relief was scarce, commoners occasionally formed unauthorized settlements.
Without royal protection, they were vulnerable to local bandits, so they formed well-armed militias. In truth, these illegal hamlets were little different from bandit dens.
“Intriguing.”
“I wouldn’t recommend it. If the villagers learn you’re a knight, they might attack.”
Kailen’s face darkened. As merchants, they were safe—the villagers wouldn’t attack potential suppliers first. But a knight changed everything. Fernandez, however, smiled.
‘Abel’s gonna be pissed, huh?’
-Probably.
‘Hm.’
The abandoned mine of Barbes Barony. Even if it meant wasting some time, investigating couldn’t hurt. Thinking of Abel waiting in the nearest city, Fernandez turned to Kailen.
“Do you handle venison too?”
*
They arrived at the mining village two hours later. Servants and mercenaries divided the goods and carried them into the hamlet on foot. Fortunately, there were plenty of foodstuffs they could sell inside—or at least trade for lighter items.
The abandoned mining village was a ramshackle settlement ringed by wooden barricades. Larger and more heavily guarded than Fernandez had expected. Less a village, more a bandit lair.
“What business do you have in our village!”
A gaunt man atop the barricade shouted down. He toyed menacingly with his axe. Kailen stepped forward.
“It’s Kailen! A troll attacked nearby and wrecked our carriage. Mind if we impose for a day? We’ve got some trade goods left—we can do business!”
“Kailen? Oh, that merchant! Alright, alright. Been a while since we had some meat!”
-Creeeak.
The barricade gate swung open with a rusty groan. Unpaved dirt roads lined half-ruined wooden shacks.
Pale-faced children with uneasy eyes peered from behind the barricades, alongside their parents. The villagers, haggard and wasted, kept stealing glances. Whenever a child’s eyes met Fernandez’s, they yelped and dove into their mother’s skirts.
A desolate place. It had been ages since he’d seen a village like this. Compared to this, the Cerned Barony was paradise. Fernandez thought as he gripped the reins.
Then, a burly man with an eyepatch appeared.
“Who’s that?”
“Watch your tongue! It’s Sir Albert of Cerned!”
“Sir…? K-Knight?!”
The man’s eyes bulged, and the militiamen around him gripped their weapons. To illegal settlers, a knight was as good as an executioner!
“Bringing a knight to our village?! You wanna die, Kailen?!”
“I invited him. No fault lies with this merchant, commoner.”
“…Sir Knight. Leave quietly, and we’ll stay quiet too. We’re just poor starving beggars!”
He didn’t look starved at all… Fernandez eyed the man’s greasy face. Big build, sturdy frame—not the look of a serf ravaged by spring famine.
“No. Show us to some shelter.”
“…Brave or just mad?”
“Y-You! Mind your words!”
Fernandez stared down from horseback into the man’s eyes. The man shrank under his presence. Even if he was the strongest, most influential in the village, he was still just a peasant at heart. Not bold enough to yell back at a real knight’s gaze.
Impressive enough as it was. Probably because he had to lead the village. But Fernandez’s eyes fell on the butterfly pendant around the man’s neck.
Copper or brass, likely. A crudely carved trinket gleaming with grime. As Fernandez stared, the man paled and tugged his sleeve, hiding the pendant in his collar.
-Decaders…
Feizashi murmured, intrigued.
‘Coincidence?’
-Such villages always have a few hiding out. Either way, not a bad turn.
Fernandez nodded. He needed fame, and the best way to earn it was slaying monsters or demons. For a man pondering summoning and killing one, this was promising.
As Fernandez stood silently, the man stammered.
“Just one day, sir knight. Have mercy on us… Rest easy for a day and leave. We just want to live quietly.”
The man glanced repeatedly at the troll head dangling from Fernandez’s saddle, then cautiously led the way. Most knights were walking arsenals, and wandering ones were heaven’s wrath to peasants.
Even if luck let them take this knight down, how many villagers would die in the aftermath? Unimaginable. Better to hope he left quietly. The man guided Fernandez to the cleanest house in the village.
*
Night deepened. Fernandez sat cross-legged on the bed, ignoring the terrified villagers’ food. The cold steel of the longsword across his thighs sharpened his mind like a whetstone.
-Let’s try again. Still no good?
‘Looks like I’ll have to shelve it for now.’
After the Infermur incident—reviving Abel, using the Five Thrones’ grasp, stealing King Gaimern’s grand spell—the Bronze Throne was acting up. Its mana circuits were badly warped, unable to cast spells.
As an ancient relic, it hadn’t shut down or broken yet, but restoring it would take time.
-This is why depending on artifacts is a bad idea. Such a hassle.
‘Should I carve new mana circuits into my body?’
-Can mana even flow through your flesh now? The Demonica baptism alone makes it tricky.
‘There’s always a way.’
One idea: replace parts of his body. Complicated prep for no side effects, but not impossible. Worth considering.
As he pondered, Feizashi scowled.
-Giving up magic for this body, then ditching the body for magic again? Self-contradictory, no?
‘Just one option. Or hunt down a Changeling Staff. Worst case, gather relics to reinforce the Bronze Throne itself.’
Compatible relics were in the central provinces at best, and the Changeling Staff belonged to the Asias High Council. No quick fix.
-Shing.
A faint sound. Unmistakably a blade drawn. Fernandez slowly opened his eyes, gripping the sword hilt on his knees.
‘Peasants?’
-Or Decaders. Either way… Behind you!!
‘Hm?’
-Thud.
A cold edge rested on his shoulder. Fernandez flinched to turn, but the blade scraped threateningly at his throat, forcing him frontward.
The room had been empty. If something in this village could fool his senses, the men’s agitation at the gate made no sense. Decaders? No, no demon scent.
If they meant to kill, they’d have stabbed already. Fernandez spoke calmly.
“Who are you?”
“I watched the village scene with interest, Sir Albert. First off, know I harbor no hostility toward you.”
Unexpectedly, a clear, bell-like voice. The blade lifted from his nape. Then, a woman appeared before him.
Slender figure, restrained eyes, hair tied severely back. A beauty with a soldier’s crisp posture. She slowly raised empty hands, standing opposite him. A brief salute, then:
“Call me Angela, please. Circumstances prevent revealing my true name—my apologies in advance.”
“Albert of Cerned.”
“Your real name?”
“I carry Beitasser Church certification. Shall I show it?”
“Even if you did, I doubt I’d believe it, Sir Albert. No need. I believe you’re a knight at least.”
Angela spoke stiffly, unfolding a small document and handing it over. Fernandez took it dubiously. Stark letters in Revaainter script.
“By Imperial Edict No. 3, I request local assistance.”
She lowered her voice.
“I am Gray Circle of the Imperial Iron Sides. Or Imperial Special Forces, if you prefer.”
“Imperial Special Forces??”
He didn’t know their hierarchy precisely, but Gray Circle was infamous—a pack of fixers who took any dirty job on the Emperor’s command.
“I understand your surprise. Our motto is ‘Fear, Rumors, Results.’ But rest easy—if you’re no foe of civilized society!”
Bizarrely, she boasted with an emotionless face. How she managed that mix of stoicism and pride, Fernandez couldn’t say.
-What’s with this woman? An idiot?
‘Feizashi, that’s harsh for a first meeting.’
Fernandez schooled his expression and spoke carefully.
“Do your coworkers call each other ‘brother’ too, by chance?”
“…Pardon?”
“Nothing. Never mind.”
Were all special forces in this era cut from the same cloth? Fernandez shivered at the eerie familiarity.
Who’d have thought there were more Demonica types out there.