Chapter 82
Chapter 82
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 82
Chapter Title: Knight of Brass 2
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Salasma and Lantarik were neighboring territories, destined to be blood enemies through the generations. The Cora River, which marked the border between their lands, was nothing less than a lifeline for shipping, irrigation farming, and fishing, so disputes over the river basin had continued without end.
The lord of Lantarik in this generation was Count Garnahir, a great noble who also owned a territory called Adiloph. But when Count Kazel ascended in Salasma, Garnahir had looked down on him and picked a fight, only to swallow the bitter dregs of defeat.
Afterward, Count Garnahir revised his strategy. He sent his daughter to Count Kazel in a political marriage while dispatching agents to the borderlands. He had them stir up chaos in Salasma through slave trading and by supporting bands of brigands.
Among the agents Lord Lantarik had infiltrated, the highest-ranking one was a former guard captain called Donear. Originally, Donear had hated undercover operations like this. He had thought he would one day become a knight, or at least retire with a fat pension and live wealthy. He even harbored resentment toward Count Garnahir for casting him into a band of brigands.
However....
Once he actually lived it, he found it quite good. Better to be the head of a snake than the tail of a dragon—experiencing it proved the old saying wasn't wrong at all.
Donear took his pick of the women the brigands captured, extorted all the luxury goods and treasures he wanted, and even kept a personal jester.
The brigands called his lair the Bandit King's palace, an environment that put many nobles' castles to shame. And to that Bandit King's palace came a woman, Shati, offered up as tribute.
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"Bandit King, we've captured a naga."
"What? What nonsense is that?"
Donear was skeptical.
"Nagas all belong to organizations rebuilding Nagashura. They're no pushovers. How did you lot catch one with your skills?"
"Well, see... it was those guys. You know that inn that stuffs customers into pots?"
"Oh, that place? It works on nagas too?"
Donear laughed in astonishment.
"So, why the naga?"
"They say this one's a stunning beauty."
"A naga disguised as a human."
"Ha, interesting. Not just some woman? Bandits and their tall tales."
Donear thought that and dragged out someone chained beneath his palace dining table.
"Gah! What is this? Are you mocking a knight right now?"
The chained one was an elderly man with a snow-white beard. Age had stripped away his youthful vigor, leaving his skin parched like old wood, but his bearing suggested a man of fine education.
But at present, he wore an upturned brass washbasin on his head like a helmet, wielded a crude wooden sword fit for children garishly painted as armor, and topped it off with a motley cloth outfit. On top of that, his mind seemed unsound; he had forgotten all dignity and was picking up crumbs from the floor to eat.
"What do you think, Sir Brand?"
Donear sneered, and the old man called Sir Brand shot to his feet.
"Whether the naga is disguised as a human, or the peasants lied to please their king, or even if they were duped by con artists themselves—the important thing is that you, the king, judge for yourself! Is that not the duty of one who wears the crown?"
Sir Brand erased the word "bandit" from Donear's title of Bandit King. Thus, Donear was simply a king, and his brigand underlings became mere subjects or soldiers.
"Hahaha. You really know how to entertain. Worth keeping you alive after all."
Donear had originally been the son of a tanner. The foul chemical stench that always clung to tanners marked it as a lowly trade. Even after becoming a soldier and earning merits, he was never judged the same as others.
Count Lantarik had thrown him into brigandage precisely because he was a tanner's son. Yet this old man called him king. This place was his palace, and he ruled here as king over a nation of brigands who plundered, killed, and even devoured his subjects.
Yes, how could it not be fun? With a senile brass knight doubling as his jester, adding one more naga to the palace sounded just fine.
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The brigands' lair sat in a basin terrain. The drought that had struck Salasma seemed to have spared this basin; lush vegetation filled the interior, where a small stream—a tributary of the Cora River—flowed, surrounded by the brigands' camps stretching out in rows.
At the center loomed a fortress of wood. It wasn't built for permanence, but neither was it as flimsy as a tent.
It was a wooden stockade that had taken at least half a year of construction to take shape. Shati, the naga agent, grasped what had happened the moment she saw the brigands' den.
'Lantarik's lord did this. That scheming bastard Garnahir!'
She had been at the frontier count's palace in Salasma, so she knew well the feud between Salasma and Lantarik. Though Lord Lantarik's daughter had entered a political marriage with Salasma's lord's son, Count Kazel, the embers of conflict still smoldered between them.
At that moment, soldiers opened the iron bars.
"Come out, naga. Our king wants to see you."
"King? The brigands' king?"
"That's right. Our king even keeps a personal jester in his palace. Far more kingly than your average count."
"……."
For them to call themselves kings even in jest suggested their loyalty to Count Garnahir had worn thin.
'Maybe I can survive this?'
Clinging to that hopeful thought, Shati followed the soldiers.
The longhouse at the heart of the fortress was adorned with gold, ivory, and all manner of rare treasures. Women draped in exotic garments plundered from merchants were cleaning the interior.
The longhouse was large, but it hardly needed four or five cleaners. Yet here were half-naked women in abundance, which meant the boss was deliberately showing off to his men.
'He's tasted power and it's driving him mad. Happens all the time with these types.'
Shati was dragged before the brigands' leader, the so-called Bandit King. He was a middle-aged man who looked like a capable fighter.
"This is... a naga? She looks human no matter how I see it."
"Yes. Her companions looked human too, but they transformed when they attacked."
"Now that you mention it, there was that story about Salasma's count turning into a naga. She's connected to that, right?"
"……."
Shati was at a loss for words. She had inwardly dismissed this brigand with his bizarre setup, but he was sharper than expected.
"Not gonna answer? Then getting tortured would undo all that peaceful surrender. Waiting for a comrade to rescue you?"
"Even talking to scum like you is humiliating, you filthy warm-blooded monkey."
"Did you lot make Salasma's count turn into a naga?"
"He chose it himself. Becoming a vassal of the great Cobra Queen Debislin is an honor too great for warm-blooded monkeys—a profound blessing."
"Hmm. So Salasma's count became a cultist. You wouldn't just accept him as a vassal—what did he offer?"
"The corpses of the populace. We mummified them to push out Lantarik's count."
Shati mixed lies with truth. It was true they had gathered bodies to build an undead army and devour Lantarik and all of Corasar. But the nagas' goddess, Cobra Queen Debislin, had accepted the count as a vassal because he offered a replica of the New King Scripture.
Mentioning the New King Scripture replica, and who knew what greed these brigands might stir up.
"Hahaha. Nobles all think alike. Mad bunch, really."
"You're doing this because you want to be a noble yourself.... How about it? Want to become a vassal of the Cobra Queen too?"
"Didn't you just call me a filthy warm-blooded monkey?"
"That's separate. Become a vassal, and you escape the fate of a filthy warm-blooded monkey. Our naga race lives far longer than you humans and is much more powerful."
Shati despised these brigands, but if she could recruit them, she would.
Count Kazel had been slain by the Heralds, ruining the nagas' careful plans. Recruiting this Bandit King and his crew could recover some of those losses.
"Hmm? Quite bold for a prisoner."
Donear smiled at Shati's confident demeanor.
"What will you do? Accept?"
"No, I don't like it. How dare you negotiate with me as an equal? String her up on the rack. No feed for a while—just give her dead naga comrades."
"Yes, sir!"
"...H-Hey!"
Shati panicked at Donear's reaction.
Just then, a herald came running.
"B-Boss! Big trouble!"
"Trouble? What kind?"
"Some lunatic's charging in!"
"Lunatic?"
"Yeah. He's barging in demanding to buy the naga woman, breaking our guards' arms and legs—or worse, castrating them."
"Castrating?"
Donear glanced at Shati.
"Looks like a guest for you. Any guesses? A comrade?"
"P-Probably."
"Speak."
"You said you'd rack me up? Why should I tell you?"
"If you don't...."
But the brigands screamed.
"Agh, boss! Not now!"
"Please take command!"
"...Damn it all! Fine!"
Donear hurriedly prepared to march out.
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Entering the basin area along a Cora River tributary, which marked the border between Lantarik and Salasma counties, the drought scars plaguing the eastern inland vanished. A lush green forest path stretched ahead.
"Don't follow us."
The armed merchant caravan's escorts snapped as Azadin's group trailed too closely.
"We're not following you on purpose—the road's straight, that's all."
"Hmph. Lies. We know what you're after. Lots of brigands around here, so you're sticking with us for protection, right?"
"Even if so, more people means brigands are less likely to attack, no?"
More heads made for a tougher target from the brigands' view. Azadin pointed that out, but the caravan's mercenaries scoffed.