Chapter 124
Chapter 124
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 124
Chapter Title: Entering Rantaric 3
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Guillaume Balt had completely seized Songbird Heights Fortress and the surrounding manors in just one week.
During that time, Azadin explored the secret base of the Naga Empire. Aside from the Nether language decoder, he hadn't uncovered any special information, but he had acquired a substantial amount of money and weapons.
Since they had been on a forced march up until then, they spent the full week exploring the secret base while devoting ample time to rest and reorganization. The injury from his broken ribs had fully healed, and the fatigue accumulated from traveling was also relieved.
However, circumstances now demanded that they leave this place soon.
*********
“Azadin! Inquisitor Sir Zekt has appeared in a nearby village!”
Sir Gibek came to inform Azadin of this fact. Azadin, who had been training with Midiam and Ismail, was taken aback upon hearing it.
“Zekt? How far away?”
“A day's distance.”
“Ah, damn. We didn't buy much time after all.”
Azadin frowned at the news.
“Buy time?”
Midiam asked.
“When I gave Nefti the page from the New King Formation Chart, I left a trace of myself with her. To throw off Zekt's pursuit.”
Azadin had slipped a blood ward he made into the page of the New King Formation Chart that he handed over to the Herald Clan's 75th Rank Nefti. It was set up so that if Zekt tried to track Azadin with magic, he would be led to Nefti's group instead.
“Come to think of it, you did something like that. No wonder you handed over a page from the New King Formation Chart so readily.”
Midiam was impressed.
“Otherwise, there'd be no reason to give it away.”
“I thought you were doing it to stay on good terms with the Arael tribe.”
“Getting along well isn't a bad thing at all if it's possible. But Arael and I are fundamentally incompatible.”
“He's still far off near the manors. What should we do?”
Sir Gibek asked Azadin.
Fight him head-on? Flee? If fighting, should they chase him down and ambush him along the roadside for an assassination?
Or fight in front of witnesses to produce people who could testify to Zekt using black magic? There were several options.
“Even ambushing him on a deserted roadside seems like it would bring more losses than gains, and if we fight in a crowded place, would he hold back on Nether magic just because of onlookers? Or would he choose to kill all the witnesses?”
Azadin shrugged.
“Either way, fighting means we can't avoid sacrificing innocents. Let's flee. The Nether magic Zekt uses must take a considerable toll on him too.”
“The man who performed the miracle of driving off the Wendigo is fleeing in fear of a holy knight? Even after slaying the Nether's death god?”
Azadin chuckled at Ismail's question.
“First off, I didn't perform the miracle. The miracle performed me. And second...”
“Even after working a miracle, you're choosing such a pragmatic approach.”
“A person can die from a single inch-deep stab wound if they're unlucky. Even a dragon-slaying hero can fall to a child's slingshot. Complacency is forbidden. That's why I've already prepared everything for our escape, right?”
Azadin's group had packed their belongings so they could flee at any moment, and they had all reshod the goats and horses.
*********
Guillaume Balt gladly joined Azadin in fleeing from Zekt as per his wishes.
“But wouldn't it be better to bring the soldiers along?”
Brand asked. There were soldiers under Sir Brock at Songbird Heights Fortress, and he suggested taking them.
“If we fight, we only need to deal with Adler and his inner circle. No need to escalate things unnecessarily. Bringing a large force would just make the situation bigger.”
Guillaume Balt answered Brand like that, then asked,
“But Father treated the Herald Clan members less like subordinates and more like guest generals. If that was a deal baited with the Emperor's treasury, then doesn't Adler know about the Emperor's treasury too? He might have already opened it.”
“That won't happen.”
Azadin stated firmly.
If the Emperor's treasury had been opened and its contents gone to Arael, there was no way the Herald Clan wouldn't be buzzing about it.
From the Arael tribe's perspective, they would actively spread the word that they had obtained the Emperor's treasury to garner support from the other still-neutral Heralds.
Whether they had successfully shaken off Sir Zekt or not, Azadin's group managed to head toward Rantaric for about a day without incident.
But the next day... rain began falling from the morning.
“It's been a while since I've seen rain.”
Azadin, who had been carrying out missions in the dry region of Salasma—especially plagued by drought and famine—was delighted by the rain he hadn't seen in ages.
But moments later...
The wind turned into a gale, and the rain into a downpour, making it impossible to see even a foot ahead. The rainwater swelled so much on the roads that everywhere except the Imperial Highway turned into muddy quagmires overflowing.
“What's with this unpredictable weather?”
“Whoa, whoa! It's slippery!”
The roads called the Imperial Highway, Empire Highway, or Kingdom Highway were paved with stones, so they didn't turn into mud even in the rain—but instead, the water flowed over the stones, making the goats' hooves slip.
In a hurry, Azadin's group moved the horses and goats to the roadside. Then their hooves sank into the mud, and Scott, who was connected to a goat to pull the wheelchair, screamed.
“Ugh! Should've brought the palanquin.”
“Even if you had brought the palanquin, we wouldn't have carried it for you.”
Midiam snapped at Scott for mentioning the palanquin.
“As expected from low intelligence—trying to solve everything with brute force. Why not use the undead?”
“Having undead carry a palanquin right in the middle of the highway? Even a non-holy knight wouldn't stand for that.”
“We could fool them with illusions.”
“No. Cut it out. Don't do anything unnecessary. A palanquin is useless, but a wheelchair's parts can come in handy if needed.”
In fact, Azadin had once used the wheelchair's wheels to move heavy objects like wooden crates.
As Midiam and Scott bickered, far off in the distance at the crossroads, an inn with a large lantern hanging out came into view.
“Let's head there for now!”
“Yeah. I'm hungry!”
Scott agreed.
*********
The sudden downpour and fierce gale had made the road treacherous.
Everyone nearby must have flocked to this inn, as a considerable crowd had gathered inside to shelter from the rain.
Yet, despite the inn's spacious build, a tense, murderous air hung within.
Sharp weapons gleamed dully in people's hands, reflecting the light from the hearth and torches. The ones holding them belonged to two groups.
“You bastards! How dare you!”
“Do you think the Corasari Peddler Guild is a joke?!”
“Then is the Telbarin Guild a joke?!”
“No, terrifying. A drug cartel and slave traders, right? Oh no, so scary.”
“Where do you get off, you wandering scum!”
The armed merchants snarled at each other, clubs and swords drawn, ready to clash at any moment.
“Corasari Peddler Guild and Telbarin Guild?”
Azadin recognized some of them as belonging to the Corasari Peddler Guild. But Telbarin Guild?
‘Slave traders, aren't they?’
It was the Telbarin Guild who had sold off the Swamp Witch's children. These armed merchants doubled as traders and villains, with elves at the core of their organization.
Three peddlers had flipped a table to make a barricade, while the rest of the armed merchants outnumbered and threatened the Peddler Guild.
The numbers were clearly lopsided at a glance. The threatening armed merchants numbered over ten, while the Peddler Guild had just three. The fight hadn't broken out yet because the three had effectively barricaded themselves.
At Azadin's gesture, Brand stepped forward.
“Ahem. Gentlemen. Here arrives Sir Guillaume Balt, Count of Rantaric, guardian of the baronies, rightful heir of Sir Garnahair, acting Count of Rantaric.”
“Huh?”
“Uh...”
“This man has just driven off the fog monster Wendigo that seized Songbird Heights Fortress and is now en route to Rantaric. What on earth is going on here? If you have some difficult plight or dispute, make your petition. In the name of the Count of Rantaric, I promise a fair judgment.”
“In the name of the Count of Rantaric...”
Hollow laughs erupted among the Telbarin Guild's armed merchants.
The reputation of Count Rantaric Garnahair didn't seem great. Or perhaps they had their own guilty consciences.
“So, what's the problem?”
Guillaume Balt stepped forward with authority and asked. His inhumanly elongated face with bulging eyes was ugly, but at that moment, the eerie visage carried a solemn dignity that seemed otherworldly.
It was as if some great non-human being had taken human form as its avatar to exude majesty, making everyone tremble.
‘They're just weak to authority, that's all.’
That was Azadin's assessment.
“This Corasari Peddler Guild bastard here used some dirty trick to steal our letters.”
“What nonsense! We caught these guys spying—stealing our transaction ledgers, purchase prices, and other trade secrets.”
The moment Azadin, Midiam, and Ismail heard their words, they realized.
‘Did they get caught?’
‘Idiots.’
The Corasari Peddler Guild was the Herald Clan's secret organization in the Corasari Kingdom region. Outwardly merchants, but spies at their core. And they'd been caught spying.
“No, we just happened to rescue someone attacked by bandits and found the letters.”
“Then why was the seal on the letters broken?”
“The bandits must have read them.”
“The courier carrying the letters was stabbed to death with a hook-like thing. And that matches the weapon you're holding?”
The weapon carried by the Corasari Peddler Guild member was a blackjack. A club with leather straps and a heavy stone inside—could be used to bludgeon or thrown when slightly modified.
Moreover, the iron frame fitted with the leather straps had sharp teeth protruding, stained with blood. The armed merchants claimed it was their comrade's blood.
“Lies. Plenty of people use weapons like this.”
“No, that's not all.”
When one merchant removed his hood, golden hair with a faint greenish tint was revealed—a hair color impossible for humans, marking him as an elf.
His pointed ears and white-painted war lines under his eyes were visible too. Likely a high-ranking member of the Telbarin Guild.
“Don't think you can fool an elf's nose. I swear on my ancestral gods that the blood on that weapon is our courier's.”
“Ugh.”
“An elf...”
Even the battle-hardened Corasari Peddler Guild members were rattled to see an elf among the opposing armed merchants.
Despite the Telbarin Guild's reputation as slave traders and villains, they were treated well everywhere because elves like this were never to be trifled with.
Moreover, the peddlers had a prick of conscience nagging them.