Chapter 41
Chapter 41
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 41
Chapter Title: Curse of Service 3
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Azadin grabbed some villagers and asked them.
"Have you perhaps seen a girl around eight years old? She has black hair and somewhat dark skin. She was brought here by the Telbarin Guild. There's a rumor she's from the Herald Clan...."
The villagers were startled by how precise his information was.
"W-We don't know...."
"Shut up and spill it, you lowly scum!"
Tarky was utterly useless in normal situations, but he proved handy here. As soon as the knight barked at them, they all clammed up and spilled everything.
"The village baker does most of the trading with that Telbarin Guild."
"You see that chimney over there? That's the house!"
The details were spot-on, and Tarky's threats did the trick—they found the place right away.
"So, what now?"
Ismail asked.
"We head to the bakery and negotiate peacefully. Luckily, the girl's still only eight."
They figured they could assign her simple chores at most—no way to inflict any serious mental or physical abuse.
That's what they thought.
"What do you want?"
The man who emerged from the large warehouse was holding a whip.
"Oh? A knight?"
Tarky barged in, and the owner hastily hid the whip behind his back. Inside the building, there were plenty of children, all malnourished with sunken eyes and the haunted gazes of the overworked.
"What brings you here?"
"Hey, we're looking for someone like this?"
Tarky turned, and Azadin described her features, age, and so on.
"Why are you looking for her?"
"Hey! What does it matter why?"
"Well, that kid's actually dead."
"What? Then what about these kids?"
Tarky pointed at the others.
"They're orphans. I took them in as the local bigwig since they had nowhere else to go. I feed them and give them work."
"That's what he says."
Tarky had nothing more to say and glanced back at Azadin. Azadin frowned at the children's condition.
"How was the child's funeral handled?"
Anger crept into Azadin's voice.
"Funeral? Why on earth are you asking about that?"
"Tarky."
"Yes."
In that instant, Tarky drove his knee into the owner's gut.
"Ghak!"
"The child's parents and some high-up made a promise, so we're here to find her. At the very least, we need to know where the funeral was held. If there was one, we can track down the location—so cut the bullshit."
"Urk... Truth is, we just dumped her in the river."
"The river? Are you insane?"
In a world where the dead could forget their deaths and rise again, failing to perform a proper funeral and just tossing a child into the river was a surefire way to mass-produce the cursed.
But it didn't sound like a lie. This man brought in kids, abused them with work, and when they died, he'd dump them in the river during floods or heavy rain.
"Hmm... what now?"
Ismail watched with delight, as if savoring how the situation was unfolding. He wondered how Azadin's mercy, compassion, sense of justice, and tolerance would hold up against the harsh wall of reality. Ismail wanted to see him break.
"Hey, is he always like this?"
Azadin asked Midiam.
"Hmm, who knows? I don't think he used to be."
Midiam stuck close to Azadin's side as she said it. That affection and admiration stung Ismail so much he couldn't help but sneer.
"If you kill this guy, what happens to these kids? You gonna save every last one, even though they're not from our clan? Besides, he's trading with the Telbarin Guild no matter what. If we hand these kids over to the Korasar Caravan Guild, it'll inevitably spark a feud with Telbarin—and I doubt the guild will back us up."
Ismail had a child's face, but his mind was sharp when it came to this stuff. Otherwise, he never could've left the sanctuary with Midiam as an attendant.
To become an attendant, you had to score high enough in the selection process to have potential as a Herald someday. Compared to his peers, Ismail excelled in martial arts, academics, knowledge, and cunning—that's why he was here. And right now, he was judging the situation with cold clarity.
If they didn't rescue the kids and just killed the owner, it could be a disaster for them. But leaving him be meant more abuse as usual.
"It's a problem that can't be solved with mere justice or sympathy. Azadin, please share your wisdom and teach a punk like me."
As Ismail sneered, Tarky stepped forward. He started beating the owner again.
"You little shit. My bro swore to protect that kid—think his oath's a joke? You figured 'it's just a kid' and went easy? Nah, today's the day you get yours."
Tarky laid into the owner with gusto.
"Argh! Ack! Help—someone save me!"
"Hey, when did I become your bro?"
Azadin felt a twinge of revulsion toward Tarky, who was suddenly acting all buddy-buddy.
"Don't worry, bro. We take these kids to my mom's place. She needs more hands. Way better than here, at least."
"Ah, but what right do you have to...?"
The owner protested, but Tarky kicked him in the jaw.
"Kek!"
"......"
Surprisingly, Tarky had proven his worth.
"Who would've thought. Even horseshit has its uses."
Midiam marveled at Tarky's bold display of value.
*********
Azadin's group gave the bakery owner a thorough thrashing, then got him to sign a statement admitting he'd traded kids with the Telbarin Guild. They took the children along and headed to the nearby Korasar Caravan Guild.
The plan was to ship the kids to the estate of Tarky's mother, Baroness Nort, via the caravan guild's network.
"But what about your promise to Calypso? You even made her swear an oath."
"Hmm. We'll have her check if there are any kids off the list, and send the Aragas ones to the sanctuary. That'll have to do."
"Shame. You could've spread rumors about the duel and stripped her of her 106th Herald status."
"Not interested in titles. They don't pay extra."
"But it'd help when you get married later?"
In Aragas, if someone from a lowly house rose high as a Herald, prestigious families would scout them for political marriages.
It was the ladder of social ascent permitted to the Herald Clan, so everyone was bloodthirsty for promotions. But Azadin seemed indifferent.
"Marriage? Not thinking about it yet."
"Huh? Really?"
Azadin and Midiam walked along, chatting like that. To Ismail, their chummy vibe was utter poison.
Then, in the village square, some folks from the caravan guild—who'd been repairing a wagon wheel—spotted Azadin and jumped to their feet.
"Azadin?!"
"Hm?"
Azadin eyed the merchants who recognized him, puzzled.
"Ah, well, you see..."
"Kellibre."
"It's Adan. Don't you recognize your seniors? After all the love we showed you?"
Midiam, watching, snickered.
"Senior or not, he's not even a Herald, much less an attendant."
"Hah. Still clueless, huh."
Adan snorted and glared at Azadin.
"What's going on, Kellibre? Adan?"
"What's going on?!"
"Orders from above: capture and escort you!"
"Huh? Above?"
Azadin shrugged.
"Drunk in broad daylight? On drugs or something?"
"No joke, Azadin. Your Herald status is suspended."
"Forget it. No point explaining. Just take me in."
"Yeah, we nab you, we become Heralds."
"......"
Azadin stared in bewilderment as his seniors boldly drew weapons right in the middle of the road.
It was true he hadn't heard the Emperor's voice lately. But suspension? And escort?
'What the hell's going on? Guess I can ask them.'
Drawing swords in a village street meant it was serious.
"So you're pulling blades in the village square to capture me and become Heralds yourselves?"
"That's right, you bastard!"
"We don't know how a talentless punk like you became a Herald, but..."
"You're no Herald anymore. Relieved of duty."
"We'll drag you in and take back our..."
"......"
Azadin stood there blankly, then casually turned his gaze. His head swiveled toward the two seniors.
"Looks like I need the full story from you two?"
"Hahaha. Forgot, Azadin?"
"Forgot getting your ass kicked by us every day?"
"Forgot bawling like a baby after we beat you as kids?"
"Yeah, yeah. I remember it all. Even when you covered my eyes and said my lower face looked like Arael's, pinning me down and forcing a kiss on me. Real filthy memory."
Azadin and Arael were twins, so with a hawk mask, his lower face resembled Arael's. Now past puberty, they looked different, but as kids, they were similar except for Azadin's eyeless face.
He'd been bullied plenty over that....
"Ah, damn. Even saying it makes me sick. You two need a beating."
Azadin bristled at his seniors bragging about tormenting him. But they still saw him as that easy mark from childhood.
"Hah. Guts coming out your ass!"
"You only got Herald thanks to Elder Kazas!"
"Here we go!"
Kellibre and Adan drew their swords and charged Azadin together.
*********
Kellibre and Adan's attacks were no joke.
Every Herald Clan member undergoes brutal basic training at age eight to qualify as a Herald. That training alone is intense, infused with the clan's wisdom.
The standouts compete for the 108 Herald slots. Even skilled ones often end up as mere attendants or worse if no spots open up in their generation.
Kellibre and Adan were such elites. But...
Sadly, their strikes didn't land on Azadin. He caught the sharp blades barehanded with his gloved fist.
-Thud!
The swords locked into his hand as if they'd always belonged there.
"Urk?!"
The blades wouldn't budge.
"You bastard!"
"Damn it."
Kellibre and Adan clasped hands, focusing to cast a spell. In that moment, Azadin's hand trembled.