Chapter 111
Chapter 111
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 111
Chapter Title: There Are Too Many Fallen Nobles 4
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Guillaume Balt still couldn’t accept reality.
Count Lantariq hadn’t been a kindly father who showered him with affection. But that was just how things were between noble fathers and sons.
Swordsmanship was beyond him, and his ugly looks had earned him quiet disdain from others. For Guillaume Balt, the only sources of pride he had were his status as a priest of the Yaegras divine clan and his position as the count’s son.
Yet the father who had given him life turned out to be such a villain—and now denied his very existence, intending to leave everything to his youngest son Adler. And the vassals all knew, everyone except him.
All his efforts to prove himself worthy of the count’s title had gone to waste. Worse, he’d been playing the fool in front of the entire vassal band. The shame was unbearable.
In this situation, the most humiliating part was how quickly his body gave out.
“Huff... This is rough. Shall we take a break?”
A knight in name only, Guillaume Balt could barely handle riding. The jolting impact of the galloping horse against the ground exhausted his leg muscles, and he wanted to rest again already.
“You’ve been resting too often.”
Midiame grumbled.
She rode a mountain goat that bounced even more than a horse, yet absorbed the shocks with ease. She even stood on the saddle with both feet, then used the goat’s leap to spring into the air in an acrobatic flip.
After somersaulting into the sky, scanning the surroundings, and landing gracefully, Midiame looked at Guillaume Balt with utter disdain.
It humiliated him to no end. This young girl handled a goat like it was nothing, while he tired out first. He wanted to grit his teeth and endure, even if it meant biting his tongue and dying right there on the saddle. But he just couldn’t.
Azadin knew Guillaume Balt was suffering inwardly and reined in Midiame.
“Don’t be too hard on him. So, what’d you spot up there?”
“Oh. The road’s blocked ahead.”
“Blocked?”
“Yeah. Soldiers have set up barricades.”
Just as Midiame said, after cresting a hill, they spotted soldiers manning barricades.
“What’s going on? Let’s head to the blockade and rest there.”
Azadin took the lead, guiding the group forward.
*********
Barricades blocked the wide imperial highway built by Emperor Yaeslat. Around them swarmed soldiers, NCOs, and refugees pitching tents and camping.
Beyond the road lay a thick fog. Visibility dropped to the length of a single wagon before everything vanished into the mist. The basin terrain might trap fog, but this was unnaturally dense.
‘I sense magic power.’
Azadin felt potent magic from the fog and clicked his tongue.
“Halt!”
“Whoa, whoa!”
The soldiers stopped Azadin’s group.
“No passing beyond this point.”
“Go back! Turn around!”
Merchants and travelers who had arrived before Azadin’s group argued back.
“Hey, you have to at least explain why!”
“Well...”
The soldiers glanced nervously at someone. A middle-aged man in armor, bottle in mouth, swung a gleaming sword wildly in the air as he staggered about.
“Ugherrrng! You damned hag! How dare you do this to me! You lot! Go back! I said go back! Can’t you see this fog? No guaranteeing your lives if you enter it!”
He bullied the merchants and travelers, blocking the road.
“...Sir Brock?”
“Huh?”
Guillaume Balt recognized the man and exclaimed in surprise.
“Y-Young Master Guillaume Balt?!”
Sir Brock, as he was called, spotted Guillaume Balt and panicked. The alcohol seemed to sober him up a bit; he straightened himself, showing respect.
‘Looks like a vassal knight. But isn’t he part of the traitorous retainers?’
Azadin found it odd from how he treated Guillaume Balt.
“What brings you here? Aren’t you the vassal of Count Lantariq, lord of Birdheight Fortress and its surrounding manors? Why are you out here? And why the barricades?”
“W-Well, it’s like this.”
The knight called Sir Brock looked troubled as he spoke.
“It’s nothing.”
“Nothing? Then why block the road? And that fog—it’s clearly unnatural.”
“......”
“Answer properly. What happened? You mentioned your wife? Something happen to her?”
“It’s...”
Sir Brock sighed and clamped his lips shut.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
It was an obvious lie. So blatant that Guillaume Balt was shocked instead.
‘Is he mocking me now that I’ve fallen?’
But it didn’t seem so. The traitors from Bridgehead Fortress hadn’t sent beacon fires or flag signals. A courier might have, but...
“Yes. Suddenly this evil fog rolled in and swallowed Birdheight Fortress. I led the residents out, but unfortunately, my wife’s still inside.”
“No way. This is the king’s highway, isn’t it? The King’s Radiance is strong here. Evil magic shouldn’t stand a chance.”
“I don’t know the details. It happened so suddenly.”
Then some protesting merchants approached Azadin.
“Oh?!”
Among them were members of the Corasari Courier Merchant Guild—the herald tribe.
“Ah. You’re with the Corasari Courier Guild.”
Azadin recognized them and stepped forward.
“Care to talk for a moment?”
The knight was clearly hiding something from Guillaume Balt.
Even when pressed, he shook his head like a mute, lips sealed tight despite being drunk. No way he’d talk like this.
Azadin left Sir Brock to Guillaume Balt and moved to exchange info with fellow Aragasar.
*********
“But first, what’s with that temple knight?”
The guild members eyed Zivek warily.
“Let’s call him a comrade.”
“Comrade? How do you end up making a temple knight a comrade?”
‘If I said my reputation brought me a comrade here, they’d think I’m bragging?’
Azadin avoided such flippant remarks with the guild members.
“What if he’s a temple knight on the verge of expulsion from his order due to a bad superior?”
“Hmm. Even then, he’d try to return to the order anytime...”
“You mean he’s a comrade now, but might split later, so be cautious?”
“Yes.”
“I get that. Let’s talk a bit farther away.”
Azadin prepared to distance himself from Zivek too.
“Oh, one more thing before that. Are you with Elder faction? Or Arael faction?”
The Corasari guild servants suddenly asked Azadin that.
“Arael faction?”
Azadin noted their neutral wording. If not friendly to Arael, they’d call them rebels or traitors, not “Arael faction.”
“Hey, hey. It’s that guy. You know. Azadin the Blameless.”
“Oh, Azadin the Blameless? Arael’s brother? Then he’s Arael faction.”
“We’re thinking of switching to Arael faction too. From our perspective as servants, scraping by earning money everywhere is tough, but lower taxes would help.”
“If they made an Aragasar nation, that’d be fine too. Heh heh.”
“......”
Azadin clicked his tongue at their words.
“Why assume I’m Arael faction?”
It disgusted him that they already pegged him as Arael’s tribesman, figuring blood ties would pull him to her side no matter what.
What had Arael done to him?
He’d had no eyeballs to begin with, so it only left scars. But if he’d had them, and she’d gouged out his actual eyes after carving his face—could he still call her sister and live in harmony?
Yet they dismissed his scars as childish antics. Because no eyeballs, and he’d always looked grotesque without them.
They figured he’d laugh it off eventually, especially once Arael succeeded and gained power—then he’d join hands with her smiling.
That vulgarity repulsed him. It infuriated him that they took so lightly his resolve to hate Arael.
“Ah.”
“Hahaha. Just testing. Just testing. We’re Elder faction, of course. Worried since you share blood with Arael.”
“No way a rebel succeeds! Arael may have great power, but it’s a flash in the pan. The Elder faction will win in the end.”
Seeing Azadin’s anger, they flipped instantly. But such blatant opportunism.
‘Seems those who couldn’t become heralds and work as merchants have their own thoughts.’
They’d side with whoever won, Arael or the Elders.
Neither could ignore the herald tribe’s merchants handling external activities and income. Good for Azadin.
“So what’s blocking the road? Why’s that knight drunk, swinging a sword, but clamming up on the facts?”
Azadin asked the merchants, who chuckled wryly.
“Word is, his wife turned cultist and performed some cult ritual.”
“Which cult?”
“Not sure. Gonna investigate? That fog looks dangerous to enter...”
“Hmm.”
Azadin finished talking with the guild members and returned to his group.
*********
“I can’t believe it. Sir Brock’s known for his diligence and loyalty. Among our vassals, he’s the calmest and most faithful—that’s why I entrusted him with taxes for Birdheight Fortress and its lands... And this is the king’s highway, isn’t it?”
Azadin noted that while Emperor Yaeslat built what was called the imperial highway, the king’s church folk called it the king’s highway or continental highway.
“The King’s Radiance is weakening.”
Scott MacGreen, seated in his wheelchair and keeping up with the march without issue, stated it plainly. He seemed pleased his words were proven right—practically turning Zivek’s stomach as a temple knight.
“It makes me realize how lacking my own discipline is. I know the truth, yet hearing it still angers me.”
“It’s fine. I understand. Watching low-intelligence races get swept by emotions isn’t new. Even some orcs give up on the future, rely on muscle, and let their brains turn to brawn—they go berserk.”
“......”
That only made him angrier now.