Chapter 95
Chapter 95
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 95
Chapter Title: Arael's Faction 5
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He had tried to draw his sword. But Azadin was faster. Azadin thrust out his foot to pin the count's sword pommel with his heel, preventing the blade from leaving its scabbard, then smoothly drew his own sword and swung it toward the count's neck.
The strike was lightning-quick, brimming with terrifying power. However...
-Kchak!
Azadin's blade merely sliced through the count's armored gorget. From behind the count, the 75th Herald Nefti of the Herald Tribe had yanked him back just enough to evade the attack.
"You've crossed the line!"
In that instant, Nefti drew her sword.
"Now stop that. You can't attack the other side during negotiations!"
Nefti spun the count behind her with one hand while raising her sword to point at Azadin's throat with the other. It was a needle-thin blade like an iron skewer, designed for piercing armor. Slender yet surprisingly hefty, she handled it one-handed with effortless grace, as if it were part of her body.
Azadin, however, was blocking Nefti's sword path with the pommel of his own weapon.
"We're under a white flag for negotiations—even if they piss you off, you can't strike first. It was just petty baiting. Fall for it and do something stupid, and no matter how noble your bloodline—no matter if you're Arael's little brother or heir to some exalted line—I'll kill you. Hell, I'll torture you till you regret ever being born, make you beg for the mercy of death."
Nefti smiled at Azadin, her sword still trained on him.
"Right? Under a white flag for talks, whoever swings first is the idiot..."
Azadin and Nefti withdrew their blades in unison.
"You filthy—!"
Count Lantaric realized their words were aimed squarely at him and erupted in fury. But Nefti's remark gnawed at him.
She'd punish him, no matter his bloodline.
That had been said for his ears alone.
"No wonder they said Kahsan fell to you—you've got real skill. But Azadin, you're not exactly in one piece yourself, are you? Breaking a cold sweat there?"
"I run hot..."
Azadin averted his eyes from Nefti's sly grin as she clocked his wound.
"So why'd Arael team up with the count?"
"Can't say. Curious? Join our side, and I'll spell it out nice and clear."
"Not for those gold coin petitions, I hope? Teaming up with this count alone is plenty reason not to trust Arael."
"Unfair. You think the other Herald Tribe holdouts not with Arael are squeaky clean?"
"If you're flipping off the powers that be, bring a different flag. Telling folks to switch teams under the same banner? That's a hard sell. And do you know who carved this scar on my face? Your precious Arael."
"Made you drop-dead gorgeous, though?"
"Think that's our chat wrapped up. Guarantee the lives of everyone inside the fortress—and all the civilians the count's army's holding. That's my one demand."
Azadin shot Nefti a glare and turned on his heel.
"You'll regret this, pup of a Herald."
The count spat the threat at Azadin's back.
Negotiations with the count ended in failure. No surprise—swords had been drawn at each other's throats right there on the spot.
The count had reached for his blade first, but Azadin had seized the excuse to cut him down then and there.
This man's irredeemable.
No hesitation unleashing bandits on civilians, looting, slaughtering.
Spare a lord like that, and the victims pile up endlessly.
Azadin had steeled himself to shatter negotiation protocol, damn the universal scorn, and end him—only for Nefti to step in.
Even so, Nefti had backed Azadin. The count broke protocol first. She wrote it off as a hiccup, and Azadin had silently concurred.
"Now then..."
Azadin's group returned to the fortress and barred the gates once more.
The soldiers swarmed like chicks clamoring for feed, only to recoil in shock at their captain sprawled unconscious.
"H-how'd negotiations go?"
"Breakdown, for now."
Azadin stated it plainly, claimed a spot, and flopped down.
"What?!"
"The count's lowballing this fortress's defenses. Figures he can smash through even if we don't open up, so he cheaped out on payoff for the gate."
Lying there, Azadin's words left them all dubious. That's when the captain stirred from his faint and panicked.
"Uh... ugh... what the hell?"
"Captain?!"
"Negotiations broke down? For real?"
"Broke down? Shit! Hey!"
The captain bolted upright, scanning his surroundings.
"You Herald Tribe whelp! Why turn down the count's offer?"
"What're you on about?"
Azadin rolled onto his side to eye the captain.
"Hand over one doddering scribe, and he lets us go?"
The soldiers all flinched at the captain's claim.
It clashed with the Herald's account. No—the Herald had been vague. But if the captain was right, they could've lived—yet negotiations tanked?
"You blacked out, so you missed it—the count demanded your hides too after. Traitor knights and grunts ain't worth sparing; hand over the fortress guard, and he'll free every civilian cooped up here."
"..."
Zibek, off to the side, clicked his tongue. Brazen-faced lie, right out in the open.
"What? Bullshit! Why would a bigshot noble give a damn about low-rung knights like us?"
"Then why demand some senile scribe's neck? Count Lantaric's a hothead—scary as hell. Soldiers croak or civilians croak—your pick. Thinks cracking this fort's a cakewalk, so he spouts that arrogant crap."
Azadin's silver tongue had them all spellbound.
Didn't it add up?
Count Lantaric scoffs at the fortress, insults the negotiators demanding safety guarantees for opening the gates.
Yeah, it tracked. Zibek, in the know, struggled to school his expression.
'How's he spin lies this slick?'
But Azadin played it so cool, no one dug deeper.
"Hold up! He really say that, Holy Knight sir?"
The captain turned to Zibek.
"Saying so here puts the commander in a spot..."
Zibek, Holy Knight that he was, wouldn't lie. He just dodged.
Zibek's hedge had them all nodding—Araza... Azadin was spot-on.
"Urgh..."
Eager to trade others' lives before, the fortress guard went meek the moment theirs hung in the balance.
Massacre the civilians, guards live? Massacre the guards, civilians live?
If the count dangled that choice, no picking sides.
Just like Azadin said: flex the defenses, bleed their army more. Only then would they swallow that opening the gates was a fat prize.
Right on cue, the count's forces stirred to life.
*********
Unable to swallow the insult from Azadin, the count promptly dispatched troops to the fortress.
"Are they nuts?"
Azadin tsked at the oncoming host. Tiny outposts like this were a nightmare to siege—worse than sprawling castles. Big forts needed gates everywhere for logistics, diluting defenses.
This one? An emperor-built watchtower to choke the highway. Single entrance, the rest sheer stone walls. Harmless if bypassed—yet here they came, full frontal, over a little mockery.
"All of you, fall back from the walls."
Azadin withdrew the rank-and-file soldiers.
"You out of your mind?"
The captain barked it, grabbing a bow and stones to man the wall. That's when a hidden archer among the attackers loosed an arrow.
-Skreeee!
It hurtled with vicious speed, shearing off the captain's helmet. Azadin snatched the captain's collar and yanked him back, cheating death—but the shaft still mangled the helmet and gouged a long gash across his ear and bearded jaw.
"Shit."
Nefti's hello. When Azadin swung at the count, she'd shielded him unscathed.
Azadin had shielded too—but left the captain seriously gashed.
"Aaagh! Burns! P-poison... poisoned arrow!"
"Nah. Plain arrow. Tough it out."
Azadin hunkered the captain aside to inspect the helmet-wrecking shaft.
"Azuresteel head. Fancy gear, huh?"
Standard arrows split two ways: light tips for hunts, steel for punching plate.
Herald Tribe had azuresteel premium and blacksteel horrors—slathered in armor-shredding mega-toxin, paper-thin through mail.
Three azuresteels fetched a single gold coin.
Pricey as hell.
"Time to send regards?"
Azadin nocked and loosed at the archers creeping forward under suppressing fire.
Guards flung up shields to cover them, but Azadin had their moves read.
"Firebird Windmoon, Kazas Hasse! Yellow Crane!"
The arrow hooked sideways mid-flight, carving bows and fingers from the archers.
"Grah!"
Incredibly, that lone shot severed a finger or bowstring—then bored on, unrelenting, to shred more. But...
-Thwap!
One archer lunged from the pack and snatched it midair.
Not Nefti—another Herald Tribe member amid the archers, snagging the incoming projectile.
"So this is Kazas Hasse? No spells, but that Yellow Crane arc, that punch..."
Bigger than Whibbris peasants but middling among hulking Aragsa, the boy dangled the arrow and snickered.
"Don't grab willy-nilly. Azadin's a wild card. Slice your hand open, then what?"
"But I was curious. Kahsan lost, after all..."
Scattered among the count's troops: Herald Tribe faces. Arael's crew.
"Figures..."
Azadin scowled.
"Plotting treason from way back."
Echoing vivid in Azadin's ears: the cocky girl's voice—Arael's.
'I'll rebirth the Aragsa. Shatter every outdated chain keeping us from claiming our due by our own strength!'
The fruits of that brazen vow sprawled before Azadin's eyes.