Chapter 134
Chapter 134
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 134
Chapter Title: Storm of Koral Sahar 2
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Merchants who had their wealth seized and handed fake receipts, along with residents suddenly evicted from their homes and livelihoods, were all foaming at the mouth as they badmouthed the king.
“Someone else should’ve been king!”
“Right you are!”
“But even so, Count Kazel is a bit…”
“What about Arbiter Sir Zekt? He’s royalty too.”
“He’s northern royalty, isn’t he? What would he know about our region?”
“Still, he’s an incredible holy knight. If he’d taken the throne, none of this would’ve happened…”
As Zekt’s name came up among the crowd, Gibek couldn’t hold back any longer and stepped forward.
“What nonsense are you spouting right now?”
“Gasp?!”
“Ah!”
The moment they spotted Gibek, a holy knight of the King’s Church, everyone jumped in fright.
“N-no, it’s nothing.”
“Heh heh…”
The merchants immediately retracted their words and plastered on fawning smiles.
But the refugees who had lost everything couldn’t wipe the venom from their eyes, even with a King’s Church knight right in front of them.
Only the merchants, with their resilient mindsets, could suppress their hostility and grovel with smiles before the strong.
The weary and despairing ones sneered openly, heedless of whether he was a King’s Church holy knight or whatever.
“Hmph.”
“The world’s done for. Rain falling nonstop for a week—no, two weeks—in the king’s capital? Unheard of.”
“With disasters like that hitting, isn’t it obvious?”
“Even if Count Kazel or Sir Zekt became king, it wouldn’t make much difference, but you can’t say the current king’s got any real talent either.”
“If you’ve got a mouth, then say it to my face, holy knight sir?”
Far from cowed, the refugees grew angry and started closing in on Gibek. If Azadin’s group hadn’t been standing behind him, they might’ve all piled on and beaten him senseless.
“Now, now, that’s enough. Let’s go. Oh, here’s a little something for your stories.”
Azadin tossed some coins to the refugees to soothe them.
“You’re giving money to blasphemers like that?”
Gibek clearly didn’t approve of Azadin placating the irreverent bunch with coin.
“Funny thing, I’m a blasphemer myself. Bear with it, Sir Gibek. No need to trade punches with civilians, right?”
“But it really does seem dangerous. The royal palace flooding in the king’s own capital? Unthinkable.”
Midiam voiced her worry and lapsed into thought.
“I wonder if Brother Sion’s safe.”
“Sion, you say…”
“My cousin. Former herald.”
Midiam shrugged.
“He dotes on me, so if we meet, he’ll definitely hear us out. It’ll help clear up your misunderstanding too, Azadin.”
“We’ll worry about whether he’s alive first.”
Koral Sahar’s state looked far from normal.
“Aw, come on. He’s a former herald—what could happen?”
“Who knows?”
Azadin said that, but he turned his steps toward Koral Sahar anyway.
*********
The closer they got to Koral Sahar, the more the river swelled. The Cora River, which had been little more than a trickle back in Salasuma, was now flooding right up to the banks.
And yet…
“The river’s flowing backward.”
Azadin clicked his tongue at the churning waters.
“Means a ton of rain in Koral Sahar. Normally, high tide pushes river water back upstream…”
“But it usually stops at the lower reaches. For it to hit all the way here already… Does that mean the backflow’s reaching Koral Sahar?”
An enormous downpour had to be hammering Koral Sahar. That’s what Azadin was thinking when—
*Shweee!*
An arrow flew straight at him.
Not just at Azadin— a massive volley targeted his entire group, raining up from below the riverbank like a storm.
Azadin casually swatted the incoming arrows aside without a second thought and backpedaled.
“Argh! I’m gonna die!”
Scott, meanwhile, screamed and curled into a ball.
“Heralds?”
Gibek shielded Scott from the arrows using his scabbard, cloak, and armor. Though the shots packed serious force, he protected both himself and Scott unscathed.
“Ugh! Damn it. Why are you guys fighting among yourselves?”
Shati, the naga agent, shrieked and ducked behind Scott’s wheelchair.
“That’s one hell of a greeting.”
Azadin tallied the arrows midair and tsked.
Dozens of Aragasa lay in ambush below the bank—at least twenty loosing arrows.
Among them stood who seemed to be the leader: a young man around Azadin’s age, wearing a mask similar to Azadin’s but far more lavishly adorned with jewels, standing calm and composed.
His nonchalant poise made it hard to believe he’d just launched a killing shot; it was as if claiming the attack was merely a hello.
Sure enough, he called out to Azadin.
“Anyone who’d take an arrow in this range doesn’t deserve the name Aragasa! Just a light greeting! I’d have been deeply disappointed if it hit!”
What nonsense. Shots from over a hundred paces qualified as greetings between Aragasa.
But that was only if both sides knew each other. No Aragasa, no matter how skilled, could react to arrows from an ambush.
Azadin had suspected as much beforehand, or he’d have been skewered.
“Is that so? Then I’d better return the courtesy!”
Azadin nocked an arrow and fired.
The masked youth snorted and snatched Azadin’s arrow out of the air—but…
“?!”
Startled by the force, he dragged his feet backward, barely twisting it aside. Trying to catch it outright would’ve drilled a hole through his face.
“Ugh?! Crazy… You enchanted a greeting shot with magic! Trying to kill me!?”
As if he hadn’t just opened with a surprise volley himself.
“No magic.”
“Hah. Lies. Don’t bluff. A standard crescent bow with lightweight arrows—how’s it packing that punch?”
“Classic Aragasa techniques let you fire any bow with more power.”
“Classic techniques giving that accuracy? Get real.”
Aragasa techniques accelerated arrows by drawing the bowstring harder, originally devised to extend range for massed infantry volleys.
More like a giant crossbow than traditional archery.
Azadin’s pinpoint precision was impossibly sharp for such a method.
That’s when Midiam recognized the youth.
“Brother Sion!”
Hearing his name, the youth removed his mask.
Pale white skin, bright blond hair, and pale gray eyes—a beautiful young man.
“Oh, right, Midiam. Haha, it’s been a few years, and you’ve become quite the lady.”
He greeted Midiam warmly, then glared at Azadin. His gloved hand throbbed from clutching the arrow; barehanded, it would’ve shredded his skin.
“That power without magic?”
“Can’t enchant arrows.”
“What? That doesn’t…”
“You telling me you haven’t heard? Every Aragasa knows the bumbling Azadin of No Enchantments can’t even use magic.”
“Aren’t all non-Etar bloodlines bumbling? Not interested in competing over who’s more of an idiot.”
Shati snickered at that.
“Another one like Scott. All talk and arrogance.”
“I’m just stating facts—honest, not arrogant. That guy’s the arrogant one.”
Scott declared proudly, then grumbled.
“Herald greetings are rough. Nearly died just saying hi.”
“But looks like the hello’s just getting started?”
As Shati said, Sion and his men hadn’t lowered their weapons; they eyed Azadin steadily.
Their ambush to begin with… probably to subdue any Arahel tribe herald coming this way.
The opening shot as a greeting? Maybe because they spotted Midiam in the group.
“Guess we’ll have to talk it out.”
Azadin steeled himself, recalling Midiam recognizing the youth.
*********
“…So you’re Azadin of No Enchantments. Arahel’s little brother.”
Sion Etar nodded; he’d already heard of Azadin.
“I’m the older one, and he’s the younger.”
“Twins squabbling over that? You two must be close. You’ve got to like each other to bother deciding top dog, right? If you really hated each other, you’d just kill each other and forget rank. Especially you penniless types with no inheritance anyway.”
“You little…”
“So. You’re a traitor to the council, yeah? You’d side with blood kin, after all. Then free my cousin.”
“N-no, Brother! Azadin’s not on Arahel’s side! I vouch for him!”
“…Really?”
Sion tilted his head.
“Then welcome aboard. But siblings at each other’s throats like that? Some personality defect?”
“Sounds like you’ve got complaints. Shouldn’t you be happy I’m not with Arahel?”
“Nah. A low-rank herald like you? Enemy or ally, doesn’t change much.”
“Low-rank?”
“Azadin of No Enchantments. What’s your rank?”
“108th Herald.”
“For real? Thought you’d be rock bottom, but you actually are? Explains enchanting that greeting arrow out of pride.”
Sion chalked up the arrow’s weight not to strength or skill, but to Azadin’s supposed magic trickery.
“That how he always is?”
Azadin asked Midiam.
“Ahahaha.”
Then Sion turned serious toward Azadin.
“Hey. Don’t get too familiar with my cousin. Herald or attendant or whatever, Midiam’s Etar bloodline—you can’t treat her casually. Sure, you’re a hot-blooded guy, so falling for her looks is understandable, but…”
“……”
“And you, Midiam. Why run off like that? If you’d waited, I’d have set you up with something good.”
“More importantly, what’s going on in Koral Sahar? What the hell happened?”
“Ever since Flower’s Dimia and her sister Jenis passed through, the storms haven’t let up. Funny, right?”
“What’s funny?”
“Storms raging means Wind’s Aleph should show up. Not Flower’s Dimia stirring things. Doesn’t fit the title.”
“…….”