Chapter 64
Chapter 64
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 64
Chapter Title: Assassin Salesman 1
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“But the ones Azadin took down—when you think about it, they weren’t all that impressive, were they?”
“Even we could’ve handled the Atra bloodline or Young Lord Kozel. For Aragas, that’s just par for the course.”
“Of course. That’s the bare minimum for our Aragas. But did the Azadin you remember really have skills befitting our clan? No, right?”
“…….”
“What I’m saying is, Azadin’s made massive strides since then. Isn’t it foolish to judge him based solely on intel from ten years ago, when we can’t even gauge how far he’s come?”
“Y-You’re right. But even so, isn’t he being overly cautious?”
“There’s no harm in playing it safe. Why should we spill blood when we can let others fight our battles?”
Derek said this with a smile.
“So, shall we pay a visit to the count now?”
“Pardon?”
“The count’s desperate for a copy of the New King Formation Scripture. If we spread a rumor that Azadin has it…”
“Ah.”
“It’s a classic case of borrowing a knife to kill. But will the count buy the rumor?”
“We’ll make it believable. Word is, the Mezzeri cultists’ hideout was raided here yesterday. We can hint that a copy of the scripture was found there and that Azadin got his hands on it—then claim the reward.”
Derek tossed out the idea without much thought, but it was eerily close to the truth. Unaware of that, his men were impressed.
“As expected from a former herald. The pieces fall together so perfectly.”
“The count’s already paranoid and suspicious of everything, so he’ll bite. But we’re asking for a reward?”
“We’re merchants of the Korasar Courier Guild. When merchants peddle information, of course we get paid. Refusing payment would raise more red flags.”
“Got it. Demanding money actually makes our intel seem more credible.”
“Exactly. So, let’s go leak this to the count. And if Azadin survives this one too…”
“No way that happens.”
“He can’t even use magic—a total has-been.”
“Hmm. Then Arael might chew me out. Wouldn’t want that. Ideally, he takes some serious injuries, ends up crippled, and calls it a day.”
Derek smiled, envisioning a future convenient only for himself.
*********
Azadin saw Derek’s crew off and went back to sleep. Exhaustion had piled up so heavily that he passed out the moment he hit the bed.
He didn’t wake until after sunset. Even after a solid rest, his muscle aches lingered. No surprise, given how he’d pushed himself—it wouldn’t vanish in a day.
“Hmm. Time to scout the count’s castle, I suppose?”
With confirmation that a copy of the New King Formation Scripture was there, he needed to start planning his infiltration.
Azadin lightly packed his gear and prepared to head out. As he left his room, he ran into Tarki.
“Oh, big bro.”
“What?”
“Kozel’s back in Salasma.”
“Kozel?”
“Yeah. Blind and castrated, barely hanging on… They brought him in by carriage.”
“I see.”
“And the ones who transported him? Korasar Courier Guild.”
“…….”
Azadin clicked his tongue at the name.
“This is bad. We need to get out of here.”
“Huh? But Mom insisted you all stay.”
“I don’t want to cause her any trouble.”
“By the way, Azadin, what’d you talk about with Mom earlier?”
“Oh… Just settling yesterday’s affairs.”
“Settling?”
He couldn’t tell the truth.
*‘Your mom proposed to me.’*
No matter how much of a ruthless noble bastard Tarki was—tormenting the common folk—he didn’t deserve to hear that straight to his face.
“For me, it was a win: five imperial gold coins upfront. Later, tell your mom thanks, and that she owes me nothing—no favors or anything.”
“She’d be thrilled if you told her yourself.”
“That’d put me in a tough spot.”
“Huh? Why?”
“Getting emotionally tangled with a stunning noblewoman like your mom? Not a good idea for an outsider.”
“Pfft. Why’re you worrying about that, big bro?”
“Beats me.”
Azadin headed to the next room and called for Midiam and Ismail.
“Huh? What’s up?”
“We’re leaving. Pack your things.”
“Oh, okay. Too bad. I was hoping for more proper beds and baths.”
Midiam sounded regretful but started packing without complaint.
*********
Young Lord Kozel, born to the count’s lawful wife, had somehow survived and made it back alive—thanks to his bodyguard knight, Sir Gibek.
Gibek had protected him devotedly amid the plundering and tyranny, even after Kozel lost his men, his eyes, and his manhood, becoming a broken shell. Without Gibek, he’d have been easy prey for revenge.
But upon Kozel’s return, Sir Gibek faced punishment for failing to protect him.
*********
Refugees milled about in front of the King’s Church hall, begging as they went.
Sir Gibek let out a long sigh there. His disciplinary action was set. Not executed yet, but as good as done.
A knight approached him—Lady Maya, chief officer of the Salasma diocese.
“Are you all right, Sir Gibek? I heard you’re being impeached and demoted to Penitent Knight.”
“It’s true.”
“How could they…? Didn’t you do everything you could? What kind of injustice is this?”
Lady Maya had trained under Sir Gibek in swordsmanship. She knew his upright character, masterful blade work, and above all, his exceptional healing arts.
“Young Lord Kozel has a terrible reputation. Surviving those wounds without infection? That’s all your doing, Sir Gibek…”
“The countess—Kozel’s mother—must be displeased. Losing his potency knocks him out of the succession race entirely.”
The countess of Salasma’s frontier count was daughter to Count Lantariq, a major noble from a neighboring domain richer than Salasma. Theirs was a political marriage; no one would call it a happy one.
They had only one child between them: Kozel. Afterward, the count amused himself with concubines, while the countess took lovers and bore bastards separately.
With Kozel castrated, he’d lost inheritance rights, draining meaning from her strategic union. If they were on good terms, they could start over with a new legitimate heir. But regretfully, their rift ran too deep for that now.
“Her options left are probably divorce and remarriage… or…”
Sir Gibek trailed off. A knight couldn’t speak further.
“Killing her husband and seizing the regency?”
Chief Officer Lady Maya finished what he’d swallowed.
“What will the bishop do, then?”
The countess had demanded Gibek’s impeachment and punishment. But he wasn’t the count’s retainer—he was a holy knight of the King’s Church. Personnel matters fell to the bishop and knight commander.
If the Salasma bishop rejected the impeachment, Gibek could keep his post unpunished. However…
“The bishop accepted it. He’s sending you on penitence duty.”
“I see.”
From the King’s Church’s view, they couldn’t ignore a request from Count Lantariq’s daughter.
“It works out. Ogre tribes are swarming over the desert spine, right? Penitence as a rear-guard fighter against them isn’t so bad.”
“But it’s dangerous. Are you sure?”
“If holy knights dodge danger, who steps up? Hmm… Oh, Lady Maya.”
“Yes?”
“Do you know anything about the Herald Clan?”
“The Herald Clan? Those soulless cursed ones?”
“…….”
“Why do you ask?”
“Nothing. Hmm?”
Midway through their talk in front of the church, Sir Gibek spotted an armed group weaving through the crowd. Ruffians in mismatched armor.
“What’s going on?”
Sir Gibek approached them.
“Oh, Sir Gibek, isn’t it?”
“Belldon?”
Belldon was Kozel’s steward, son of his wet nurse—a milk brother and trusted confidant. Too fat for the New King Formation Scripture expedition, he’d stayed in Salasma.
So why was he hiring thugs?
“Good to see you, Sir Gibek. Actually, Young Lord Kozel ordered me to round up mercenaries and adventurers.”
“Mercenaries and adventurers? For what?”
“Young Lord Kozel said he can’t stomach Tarki becoming family head…”
“What?”
“So we’re going after Tarki.”
“Have you lost your minds? Attacking Baroness Nort’s estate?”
“I tried talking him out of it. But sigh, he’s completely unhinged now. How could I stop him? The countess hates Baroness Nort too…”
The countess was plain and vicious; those who knew her called her a harpy—behind her back, of course. Call her that to her face, and you’d end up like meat tossed into a harpy nest.
Baroness Nort, by contrast, was a renowned beauty of impeccable conduct. Her fool of a son Tarki aside, her reputation shone.
Thus, the ever-jealous countess, enraged by her son’s castration, was fanning his madness.
It bordered on criminal, but Belldon spilled it freely. He seemed on the verge of cracking, desperate for someone to vent to.
“You can say that in front of me?”
“Truth is, I’m scared too.”
Belldon made a troubled face. He’d obey orders, but Kozel was out of the succession picture now. His future? Holy knight in the King’s Church or Rescue Knights—sterile men couldn’t lead houses.
“You want me to stop it?”
Sir Gibek pressed the steward Belldon for clarity.