Chapter 227
Chapter 227
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 227
Chapter Title: The Pilgrimage Group's Tribulations 2
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As the gold coin was placed in the center of the triangular formation, the magic circle flashed and began emitting a soft glow.
"Ahh. Lady Izmira! How could you take it upon yourself like that! It's far too heavy a burden for even you to bear alone. If only I could share even a fraction of that weight, it would be the glory of my house, the greatest blessing of my life. Why won't you give me such an opportunity? Well, I suppose I am a bit..."
Herald MacDougal kept prattling on. In a situation like this, his words just kept pouring out endlessly.
"Pfft. Look at these knight brats. In the end, it's always the squire knights who end up with the short end of the stick, huh?"
The female bandit watching them snickered.
With her abundant brown hair dotted with freckles and a face that always seemed to be smiling, she was a prisoner convicted of murder and sentenced to labor reeducation by the Salvation Knight Order.
"Watch your mouth, bandit. Mock the honor of the knights one more time, and I won't forgive you."
"Oh yeah? Looks like you're the ones about to die right now. What're you gonna do if you don't forgive me?"
"MacDougal. Discipline her."
"Understood."
"...Hold on. Won't you give me a chance to apologize?"
The female bandit seemed to change her tune as MacDougal approached the cart where she was locked up.
Meanwhile, the hail of blood clots was falling with increasing ferocity.
As the prisoners huddled inside their iron-barred wagons, a thick fog engulfed them.
*********
A ghost was racing through the darkness of the night.
Taking the form of a kerim goat, this spectral creature bounded across mountains and fields, trampling the shadows of night—and it was far faster than it had ever been in life.
Clinging to the back of the ghost goat that leaped over rivers and streams was a young man.
The young man's name was Azadin, an imperial messenger who had just been appointed to the Salvation Knight Order.
"It's fast, sure, but damn, it's cold!"
Wearing a bird mask as usual, Azadin buried himself into the kerim goat's fur out of habit. On cold days, riding a living kerim goat like this warded off the chill.
But with a ghost goat, a bone-chilling cold seeped right through him instead. Startled, Azadin pulled his hands away from the spectral fur and straightened up.
This time, a freezing wind assaulted him. Winter had ended, but its chill lingered, casting its shadow. It was unnoticeable when walking, but slicing through the air like an arrow, the wind felt sharp enough to flay skin.
"This won't do either."
Azadin clung to the ghost goat's back, dodging the wind as best he could.
Just then, the ghost goat came to a halt. In the distance came screams of people, shouts of exertion, and the clash of weapons.
"Did I find the right place?!"
At that moment, the ghost goat he was riding dissolved into smoke and vanished.
Normally, one would plummet to the ground if their mount suddenly disappeared, but Azadin twisted in midair and landed lightly on his feet.
"Looks like I got here just in time."
Azadin cautiously followed the sounds of clashing weapons.
Amid the downpour of blood hail and the blanket of thick fog, undead began to emerge.
They appeared to be corpses dug up from a nearby village graveyard—rotting bodies wielding makeshift weapons like clubs, stones, pickaxes, and plows that hardly qualified as proper arms. They swarmed forward.
Trained knights posed little threat from these alone, but the danger didn't end there.
From within the blood hail, grotesque red leeches writhed and latched onto people's bodies. With the darkness all around and the thick fog obscuring vision, it was hard to make out the attackers properly.
One might fend off undead without a second thought, only to suddenly feel faint from anemia—and find massive leeches clinging to their limbs.
"Ugh."
"F-For now, let's retreat!"
Pilgrimage leader Beljuan shouted.
"What about the prisoners?"
Lady Izmira asked. She was a wealthy noble's daughter clad in expensive armor. Beljuan's face twisted.
'This is ridiculous. Why bring that up now? Am I supposed to say we abandon them myself?!"
Beljuan felt anger rising even toward the rich girl who only spouted useless words. But then he recalled what Bishop Sehnat had quietly told him before they set out on the pilgrimage.
'See to it that Lady Izmira returns safely, no matter what.'
She must be kin to some high lord. Maybe even the bishop's own daughter.
'They must have spared no expense. A Seramite longsword, an aver steel shield, and even dwarven armor.'
With that kind of backing, he couldn't show his anger toward her, no matter how infuriated he was.
"Open the cages!"
"Yes! Understood. You're permitting us to open the cage doors? Though their reeducation under the noble ideals and beautiful doctrines of the Salvation Knight Order is not yet complete, in this crisis, you're graciously placing faith in the goodness within them to ensure their own safety by granting them freedom, yes?"
"......"
Herald MacDougal's words dragged on endlessly, but fortunately, he was unlocking the cages as he spoke. The prisoners inside, however, recoiled in horror.
"Eek!"
"Y-You're telling us to go out there without weapons? You want us to die?!"
"If it's weapons you need, I've prepared these."
MacDougal tossed something from the floor of the prisoner cart. It was the wooden forks they used for meals—hardly better than bare fists, since they weren't even metal.
"You're calling this a weapon?!"
"Of course. In reeducation facilities, they're only provided at mealtimes and collected afterward. Because even these can become lethal tools. Even for prisoners steeped in malice within these cages, if you harbor the desire for reform and a yearning for virtue, they will surely become mighty instruments of fate to vanquish evil. Trust and follow. And in the name of the Three Great Archangels, may mercy be upon us. Ahh, they come. Come! Oh, merciful angels! Look upon us! The heavenly flames burn evil and scorch darkness, shining light upon us..."
"Ugh! You damn Salvation Knights!"
As MacDougal chanted hymns in excitement, the prisoners flew into a rage, burst out of the cages, and fled. But undead hounds pursued them.
"Damn it!"
Seeing this, Izmira tried to save the prisoners, but MacDougal held her back.
"Stop, Lady Izmira! They're bait. It makes no sense for you to step in for bait!"
"But their target is me..."
"The prisoners will be safer if they draw away from you. Saving them will just keep them clustered here, and we'll all die together."
"Ah..."
Izmira finally sheathed her sword upon hearing this, though she clearly didn't like it.
"Conserve your strength, Lady Izmira."
"Then retreat!"
In the end, the pilgrimage group abandoned the prisoner wagons and climbed a steep hillside.
Afterward, whenever the holy knights encountered enemy assaults, they ditched some prisoners and peasants as bait to escape.
But they were gradually being pushed toward higher ground.
Fleeing to the highlands made sense with the fog settling below, but it was exactly what their attackers anticipated.
"Captain. This won't work."
Unable to bear it, Izmira spoke up.
"Argh! I know that! What do you expect me to do?!"
"Better to settle things with the enemy here. We can't keep running forever."
"Nonsense! From the way they're attacking us now, these bastards are at least..."
But the pilgrimage leader couldn't finish his words.
-Thunk!
A massive javelin, the kind fired from a ballista, struck Beljuan through the torso with devastating force, skewering him like a spit. The man, a Hospitaller-Paladin, died instantly without so much as a whimper.
"C-Captain!"
"Danger, Lady Izmira!"
MacDougal restrained Izmira as she tried to rush forward. Just then, another javelin flew over her head.
-Clang!
It struck a granite boulder, sparks flying like lightning seen from afar.
Everyone quailed at the sheer power. Everyone except Izmira herself, the one whose life it had threatened.
"The enemy's marksmanship is too precise—sticking your head out is tantamount to suicide. The knightly code forbids suicide, so please be wise..."
"You vile scum!"
Pushing aside the protesting MacDougal, Izmira drew her Seramite longsword, and flames erupted from the blade. Sacred fire—the heavenly blaze said to incinerate evil and uphold justice—now dwelled within the sword.
In this age of darkness where the forces of evil stirred, that sword's flame alone might seem a holy beacon...
"Have you lost your mind?"
The female bandit leaped out and slammed Izmira's head into the ground.
-Whoosh!
Another javelin targeted her but narrowly missed.
"You trying to get yourself killed? Put out the fire, fire!"
"But..."
"Hey! Little sis!"
"Yeah, big sis."
"Direction—over there!"
"Got it."
The female bandit's hulking brother picked up one of the javelins embedded in the wall.
Sometime earlier, he'd gotten hold of a long pole, tied a rope to it in a knot, and now hooked the javelin's tip into it. He twisted his massive body, building up power.
"Hup!"
The giant hurled the javelin, piercing through the fog.
-Thunk!
"Gaaahk!"
A hideous scream echoed from afar.
"Good. It screamed, so it's not a full ghost. Means we can kill it."
The female bandit said this as she rifled through the freshly dead pilgrimage leader's body, grabbing his longsword, wallet, and such.
"What are you doing?"
"Need weapons."
"No, but why the wallet?!"
"To send it to his family as a memorial, obviously?"
"What? Even so..."
Her excuse sounded plausible, but no one expected a convicted thief to actually do that. Still, Izmira had no way to argue.
"Nice. Pretty good sword."
The female bandit handed the big blade to her brother, then grabbed a hand axe and dagger for herself.
"Hey, princess!"
"Yes?"
"See? She knows she's a princess."
"Ah, no, that's not it. I'm just a squire knight."
"Cut the crap. We'll help you, so pardon us no matter what and pay us well."
"Yes?"
"There are some skilled ones among the prisoners, right? Get their cooperation."
Of course, they'd benefit too—especially since they were helping the knights first, they'd get the biggest reward. But she left that part out.
"That's not for me to decide. The captain..."
"He's dead, so you're the highest rank now, aren't you?"
"No. I'm just an errant. There are senior knights besides me..."
Izmira looked around as she spoke. Holy knights had definitely been with them moments ago, but now they were all scattered and gone.
"Huh?"
"Where are they, those senior knights of yours?"
"They were definitely here just now... Everyone! Where are you?!"
But there was no reply. The holy knights had already died, fled, or abandoned her and MacDougal. In fact, even before the ambush, they'd been slipping away into the night whenever they strayed a bit from the group.