Chapter 96
Chapter 96
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 96
Chapter Title: Arael's Tribe 6
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Azadin and Arael were twins born from the same womb.
Arael had stolen the Grimoire of Flowers, Birds, Winds, and Moons—something that should have belonged to Azadin—and was born with the greatest magical power in the history of the Herald Clan, unprecedented in their annals. In contrast, Azadin had been born a freak, unable to cast even a single proper spell, blind in both eyes.
It was an incredibly tall order to ask him not to hate the twin who had robbed him even of the talent that should have been his by right. Azadin was no exception; he hated Arael. And yet, on the other hand, there was something he had to acknowledge.
Her charm and power that could bend anyone to her will.
But even that charm and power filled him with doubt.
“What reason could justify allying with a bastard who slaughters his own people like that?”
The air was thick with the mingled scents of blood and smoke. From atop the fortress ramparts, he could see plumes of smoke rising from multiple burning villages.
Count Rantarik’s army had already plundered the surrounding area and killed countless people. There was no denying they were scum. Even if there was some tragic backstory, had Arael truly joined hands with someone committing such unforgivable atrocities?
“I’ll take over the defense here for a while. Any objections?”
“Uh, no.”
“We’ve got no complaints.”
The rampart soldiers, and even the fortress guard captain, had submitted.
In normal times, they wouldn’t entrust their necks to suspicious figures like the Herald Clan. But in this situation, the only ones they could rely on were those very dubious Heralds.
“Then grab all the arrows from inside the fortress and stack them here! All soldiers, fall back from the battlements!”
Azadin stood atop the walls himself. Arrows whistled through the air toward him, slicing the wind. But Azadin swept his cloak, batting away the incoming volley.
The arrows lost their momentum and piled up neatly on the fortress walls, one of them gripped in Azadin’s hand.
*Whistle!*
Azadin fired it back. The arrow curved toward the advancing soldiers, skimming low along the ground to strike the troops hauling the battering ram.
*Thud!*
The arrow’s power was so immense that it pierced one soldier and kept going, skewering the next.
“Argh!”
“W-what the hell are the shieldbearers doing!”
“Damn it! Shot from above, and it’s coming from the front?!”
The soldiers screamed, but Azadin loosed arrow after arrow.
*Whiiish!*
With the wind-whipping sound, an entire right flank of the battering ram haulers collapsed. With one side of the carriers gone, the opposite side couldn’t hold on, and some were even crushed or had their feet smashed by the ram they’d dropped.
“Gah!”
“D-damn it!”
“No way!”
As the ram haulers fell, the sergeants snatched up shields and urged the soldiers on.
“Shieldbearers! Protect the ram! Soldiers! Lift the ram!”
“……”
But terror filled the soldiers’ faces.
Whoever touched the ram became the focus of concentrated fire. If you wanted to die, go ahead and stick to it.
That was Azadin’s message with his arrows.
“We can block arrows like that with shields…”
*Crunch!*
No sooner had the words left his mouth than the sergeant holding the shield lost his jaw. An arrow had slipped through a gap in the shield and blown it clean off.
“Gaaaah!”
The jawless sergeant collapsed, screaming.
“Forget the ram! Just hack it with axes!”
“Grab shields and axes!”
The soldiers raised shields over their heads and charged toward the fortress. But this time, arrows flew from the fortress windows.
Ismail and Midiam had fired them, infused with Herald Clan magic, allowing them to maneuver far more freely than Azadin’s arrows and mercilessly shred the approaching troops.
“What are our archers doing? Fire!”
Rantarik’s archers loosed arrows at the ramparts and windows, but Azadin caught the incoming shots and nocked them straight back onto his bow.
*Thud!*
Another soldier dropped. Seeing him openly catch and return their arrows sapped the archers’ morale.
“T-that guy…”
“We’re just resupplying his arrows at this point, aren’t we?”
“C-can’t go!”
“Are you idiots? It’s just one guy, and we can’t even reach the gate?”
Yet in this brief clash, around ten soldiers had fallen.
Five dead, five wounded.
Not a huge number, but it was five percent of Count Rantarik’s total assembled forces here. For lives lost in such a short time, it was far too many. The soldiers’ morale could only plummet to rock bottom.
“So this is the Herald Clan!”
“What a horrifying monster!”
The soldiers could do nothing but pray to the gods that no arrow would find them.
*********
“What are you Herald Clan lot doing, just standing around?!”
Count Rantarik Garnahair fumed at the Heralds who were doing nothing but watch.
“We’re shooting too.”
“Shooting at the ramparts is a waste. That guy’s one of us—he catches arrows that lose power in flight and shoots them back.”
“From here, we’d just be supplying him with ammo.”
The Heralds on Count Rantarik’s side had fired at the walls too, but due to the elevation difference, their arrows lost power and inflicted no significant damage.
Of course, enchanting the arrows with magic would change things, but these Heralds weren’t truly loyal to the count. It was a loose alliance bound only by shared interests for the moment.
“That’s why I recommended attacking at night when the sun sets. And if there was no time and you insisted on assaulting the fortress in broad daylight, I said you should throw everything at it in one overwhelming wave.”
Nefti spoke, and Count Rantarik fell silent.
It was true she had advised that. But the count had ignored her, boasting that a puny fortress like this could be taken in an instant, and had sent the battering ram unit charging separately. He’d thought sending the full army to hack at the gate with axes would be a waste of manpower against such a small outpost.
And this was the result. With morale tanking, the offensive had reached its end without accomplishing anything. Nefti was subtly blaming the count for it.
*How dare she blame me?*
As a great noble of House Garnahair, he wasn’t used to such reproach. But having felt the Heralds’ fearsome power firsthand, he couldn’t treat them lightly.
“He shoots well. One man matching ten archers. Just how many can a Herald loose?”
“About a thousand a day, easily.”
“A thousand a day? With a bow that strong?”
Even skilled archers wielding Ashwood longbows would be drooling and exhausted after a hundred shots. A thousand?
*Bluffing? No, if it’s true, no amount of troops will break them. We’d need trebuchets for a siege! But it’s not even a proper castle—just a guard post…*
It had been a worthless little fortress that didn’t even warrant assembling siege engines. But with a master archer from the Herald Clan atop it, it had transformed into an impregnable stronghold.
*So that’s why he was so confident, negotiating on the condition of opening the gate.*
Garnahair couldn’t deny his mistake.
“Wait until nightfall, then. Your clan will infiltrate and handle it.”
“Infiltrate?”
“We can climb walls like that as easily as flat ground.”
“Hmm, fine. I’ll pull back the troops. No point charging and just losing more men.”
If he tired after fifty shots, overwhelming numbers could smash the place. But if it took a thousand, even all-out assaults were pointless.
“Then may we withdraw and rest? We need to recharge if we’re moving at night…”
“Do it.”
Grudgingly, Count Rantarik permitted rest and withdrew his forces.
*********
Yaravin, a young Herald man, served as Nefti’s retainer. Though he’d given up becoming an Apostle, he handled commerce and intelligence gathering independently under her, and he had many grievances with the Herald Clan’s structure.
He had the talent to become an Apostle, but to feed his poor family, he’d chosen to be a retainer instead. Without turning a profit through trade, his siblings and ailing parents would have starved.
Yet he too could wield the Bow of the First King and wield the Grimoire of Flowers, Birds, Winds, and Moons. He prided himself on rivaling lesser Heralds, and his skills backed it up.
So when Arael rejected the old Herald order and vowed to build a new one, he’d been overjoyed.
And it wasn’t just him. All the Heralds under Nefti now were those dissatisfied with the status quo, gathered under Arael’s banner for that very reason.
“Heh heh. The count’s in a real pickle.”
Yaravin gloated at Count Rantarik’s humiliation. He didn’t like Azadin much, but he was still Ar'gasa by blood. Seeing the haughty Whubris nobles eat crow was pure bliss. The Ar'gasa harbored deep resentment toward Whubris aristocrats.
“Don’t rub it in. He’s a client.”
Nefti reined him in and rose. Moonlight softly caressed her lithe form, like a sleek black panther.
She was strong and charismatic. Attaining the rank of 75th Herald at a young age, with no backing, wasn’t mere luck.
“Alright, shall we climb that fortress? Everyone, stay sharp. Azadin’s no pushover. I’ve clashed with him—he’s got real skill.”
“But didn’t you say he was injured?”
“I can’t believe that weakling Azadin’s become some great master.”
“He looked injured, but it might be a ruse. Be careful. They say the Kazas Style specializes in killing.”
Nefti didn’t know the details of the Kazas Style either. She’d heard that Elder Kazas, not being Ar'gasa, hadn’t been born with the Grimoire but had mastered it through his own methods after the fact—and that those techniques were dangerous and destructive.
If Azadin had mastered it, they couldn’t afford to relax. Especially since they had to scale the walls now.
“Cover team, ready arrows below. Pick the infiltration team. Who’s climbing?”
“I’ll go.”
Yaravin volunteered.
“I’ll stay below.”
Kahsan, injured by Azadin’s shot, declared he’d provide arrow support from the ground since climbing was tough.
“Fine. You and I climb, Yaravin. Kahsan, Nema, Kodanus—you support with arrows from below. Foresight Bird?”
The Apostle called Nema cast the Foresight Bird spell, circling above the fortress to watch the surroundings.
“No lights on the ramparts. Sentries are there, but hiding behind the battlements, looking down.”
“Looking down? He anticipated this.”
Nefti realized from the hidden sentries peering below that Azadin was guarding against a night raid—specifically, Heralds scaling the walls.
“It might be a trap. Avoid it?”
“No. We’ve toyed with the count enough; dodging now would snap his patience. We push through.”
“Even if there’s a trap?”
“We can handle that much, right?”
Nefti flashed a confident smile.