Chapter 83
Chapter 83
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 83
Chapter Title: Brass Knight 3
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“Hmph. What help could we expect from two green kids who haven’t even shed their baby fuzz yet?”
He was talking about Midiam and Ismail.
“Merchants pay us good coin, but you lot are just freeloading without a dime to your name, aren’t you? We never work for free.”
“Quite the ruthless bunch. Fine, we’ll keep our distance.”
Azadin began putting space between them and the armed merchant caravan.
At that moment, a band of thugs who had crossed paths with the caravan eyed them suspiciously, then drew their weapons around Azadin’s group.
“Looks like they’re not with the caravan…”
“Hey! You there!”
“Hand over everything you’ve got and scram! We might let you live!”
“Kekekeke.”
“……”
The armed merchant caravan watched the scene unfold, mocking Azadin’s group as they hurried on their way. They showed no interest even upon witnessing the impending attack, focused only on their own path.
“Talk about stingy.”
Azadin gave a wry smile at the caravan’s retreating backs.
“That girl’s pretty cute, huh?”
“The boy looks decent too. Bet he’d fetch a good price.”
The bandits, clearly underestimating Azadin’s group, were already treating them like captured prey.
“Even when you traveled with me, it was like this. How’d you two manage on your own?”
“We moved with the peddler guild.”
Ismail replied calmly.
“What’s the plan?”
“Hmm. Let’s handle them without killing—maybe squeeze some info out of them too?”
The bandits burst into laughter at Azadin’s words. There were six of them, while Azadin’s side included the teens Midiam and Ismail.
It was natural they’d find it laughable, but…
-Thwack!
Azadin lightly kicked up a rock from the ground, caught it, and swung it with both hands. Two bandits screamed, clutching their groins as they collapsed.
“Eek?!”
“Argh!”
“Y-You bastard!”
The startled bandits drew their weapons, but Midiam and Ismail whipped out daggers from their belts and hurled them.
-Thwack!
The daggers embedded in the bandits’ heads and necks.
“Guh?!”
“Argh!”
Two more bandits went down. In an instant, four were out of the fight.
“I said no killing.”
“There’s six of them—two’s fine, right?”
“Life is irreversible. Once it’s gone, you can’t bring it back.”
Azadin said this with a smile.
“We should cripple them instead, give them a chance to turn their lives around.”
“W-Well… doubtful they even want that chance.”
Midiam eyed Azadin’s peculiar respect for life with skepticism.
“W-Wait a sec.”
“P-Please spare us.”
The bandits, terrified by Azadin’s words, surrendered.
“I said I won’t kill you.”
“Th-That’s… we were originally just common folk.”
“Drought hit hard, so we fled west. No jobs, begging had its limits, so we turned to banditry. Isn’t that too much? You’re saying we should starve?”
“But didn’t you tell the caravan to take the kids? Trying to sell them means you’re dealing with slavers, right?”
Slave trading was illegal throughout the Eight Kingdoms. Yet it thrived nonetheless.
Excuses about banditry for survival rang hollow when they had networks with slavers. You couldn’t build those ties without long-term, organized crime.
“Th-There’s someone who sets it up for us.”
“Word is, he’s a spy for Count Rantarik. Trying to weaken Salasma…”
“Y-Yeah!”
The bandits spilled info, but Midiam irritably drew her blade.
“Azadin, what now? Chop off a few fingers?”
“Wait. Let’s hear them out.”
“There’s nothing worth hearing.”
“Not that… They’re scraping for survival, but it doesn’t sound entirely empty. Hey, where’s this lackey of Count Rantarik?”
“Uh… over there.”
“Down in the valley, there’s an old logging village where he’s holed up. A day’s walk from here.”
“Hit the fork, go north, then west at the crossroads.”
“Hmm. What do you think, Ismail?”
“Direction and distance line up, roughly.”
Ismail caught Azadin’s glance and confirmed without needing more.
“Good. Then you’ll guide us to the slavers?”
“Huh?”
“You said you trade captives with them? Take us there.”
“What? We told you the way!”
“I want to go as a customer. Say I’m there to buy a naga woman—they’ll get it.”
“B-But…”
The bandits panicked. Leading them to the lair meant their own bandits could teach the cocky fools a lesson. But it would also broadcast their failure to everyone.
‘They’ll mock us: “You got beat by these guys?”’
‘But if we don’t…’
They winced at the state of their beaten comrades. The groin-struck ones had blood-soaked pants. They’d been castrated.
“F-Fine, we’ll guide you.”
*********
The bandits’ lair hid in the valley woods. A tributary of the Cora River snaked through, keeping the basin moist—moss even clung to the trees.
The inland east suffered drought, yet here moss thrived in dampness. But the dense, shadowy forest made ambushes inevitable anywhere.
“Prime spot for a sneak attack. Good thing we have guides.”
“But insisting on buying a slave naga…”
Midiam and Ismail marveled at Azadin using the bandits as guides.
“Shh. Here they come.”
Sure enough, bandits emerged from the woods, bows trained on them. But their aim couldn’t hit the guides without risking Azadin’s group.
“Who the hell are these guys?”
“We heard you caught a naga woman. I want to buy her.”
“……”
The bandits faltered at Azadin’s demand. But a higher-ranking one silenced the rest and glared at the captured bandits.
“Hey, what’s going on here?”
“Uh… they say they want to buy.”
“They wanna buy a naga woman.”
“How’d they know we nabbed a naga? They naga too?”
The bandits deliberately talked among themselves, stonewalling Azadin’s group.
“Hmm. Decide if you’re selling or not. You clearly lack basic customer service.”
“Don’t make me laugh, punk!”
A bowman drew his string taut.
“Shoot, and you die.”
“Like hell!”
The bandit loosed his arrow. Azadin dropped low. His body exploded forward off the ground, closing the gap in a flash. He seized the archer’s hair.
“Told you I’d kill you? Nah, scratch that. You’re not dying.”
“Huh?!”
-Thud!
Azadin yanked the bandit’s face down, smashing a fist past it. Blood and flesh sprayed onto the underbrush.
“Gasp?!”
“Uh!”
Azadin’s punch sliced like a blade, ripping the bandit’s face. Eye popped out, nose sheared off—he screamed.
“Gaaaah!”
“Suffer through your days, and maybe you’ll atone.”
“……”
“Huh…”
Azadin snatched the quiver from the archer and swung it. Arrows spilled at Midiam and Ismail’s feet.
“Kill half to break their spirit.”
“Yes.”
“Got it.”
Midiam and Ismail drew hornbows from their waists, nocking arrows.
“You bastards!”
The bandits lunged, but Azadin shoved the bloodied one into them and closed in, hands outstretched.
-Crack!
-Crush!
Faces caved like kicked by a horse’s rear hoof, chests caved in—two flew back. And then…
-Swoosh!
Midiam and Ismail’s arrows flew. Outnumbered at first, the bandits were instantly on the defensive.
“Guh?!”
“Y-You shits!”
“N-No! They’re Heralds!”
As Midiam and Ismail fired, the bandits realized Azadin’s group’s identity.
“H-Heralds?”
“My god.”
“Too late!”
Ismail’s arrow flew at the negotiator’s face. Azadin intercepted it midair, blocking it from the bandit.
“Huh?!”
“Over half now.”
Azadin, counting deaths, called off the killing as their numbers halved.
“But short of killing, it’s fine.”
He jammed the arrow he held into the bandit’s eye, then yanked it out.
“Gaaaah!”
The bandit tumbled forward, screaming.
“M-My god.”
“That’s Heralds for you!”
The guide bandits were awestruck. The welcoming party numbered twelve—enough to overwhelm, they’d thought.
Yet in a blink, six dead, two more blinded or half-blind from torn faces.
“There. Lesson over. Tell your boss we’re here to buy a naga woman.”
“……”
The bandits shuddered at the brutality.
Sure, overwhelming superior numbers with a surprise attack? Bandits were mostly ex-farmers, drought refugees without real warrior training. Fair enough.
But calling it “education” and easing off afterward? What confidence.
*********
Bandit King Doneer couldn’t process the carnage before him. His eyes saw it, but his brain refused.
“What the hell happened?”
“Th-They’re Heralds.”
The utterly cowed bandits slunk forward like wet dogs.
“Heralds? What do they want?”
Doneer demanded, and Azadin stepped up.
“You’ve got a naga woman. I’m here to buy her.”
“Buy her?”
“We don’t usually deal with slavers, but slaughtering refugee bandits like you seems too cruel. I’ll pay fair.”
“……”
Arrogant words. Only utter confidence in crushing them all allowed such talk.
And yet…
‘They’re completely broken.’
The bandits’ faces screamed they’d pay any price not to fight the Heralds.
‘I’m a warrior, not some peasant like you. And I’ve got my own men.’
Among Doneer’s crew were Count Rantarik’s planted agents. Warrior caste, leagues beyond common farmers in skill.
‘Scared peasants with a show of force, fine. But real warriors?’
That’s when Doneer had his doubts.