Chapter 84
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 84
Chapter Title: Who Dares to Unleash Mana Before Me?
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Was it the right call shoving Fred forward, the one pulling back because he didn't want to flaunt his mana in front of just anyone?
It was the right call, sure.
When have you ever seen me screw up?
- "Fred, you're the one living the cushiest life in this fortress right now. Any objections? Speak up and you're a heretic."
That's what I snapped at him when I told him to go greet the envoy.
Because out of all of us, he knows Brad the best.
'He'll figure out how things are going if he just watches for a bit. And he'll be able to plan how to handle whatever comes next.'
That was why I didn't step up myself.
There was also a small excuse of wanting to see what Fred could do.
Ibu and Hama dozed off with little nods behind me.
Steron and Loginin stood at my sides like bodyguards.
Yuderg and Requiya sat a ways off in another spot, watching the envoy with amused eyes.
The sickly ex-knight from the great Drauven Empire and the demon beside him seemed intrigued by Brad's uniforms.
Kruke had properly prepared to receive the guests.
He lined up bandits armed with bows, arrows, and javelins along the ramparts.
Bardim, Turgen, and some of the younger bandits couldn't hold back their curiosity and started whispering.
"Quiet down nowww."
Gazdal's warning shut them up quick.
The ground-shaking thunder of hooves approached.
Day guard Fred Shobiding took one step forward, then halted abruptly.
Dressed in a fabric shirt, pants, and cloak, he still managed to drape some dignity over himself like it was armor.
'Good posture.'
Fred raised his scabbard.
He looked like a man gauging the horizon's tilt with his sword.
'Good form.'
Even after spotting the gatekeeper, the seven riders didn't slow down.
"Halt."
Fred's voice overpowered the hoofbeats.
'Good word choice. Good voice.'
The two knights leading with flags high split to either side.
Between them rode a man with white fur draped over one shoulder, guiding his horse at a leisurely pace.
He wore a flat brown hat stuck with feathers, and the sagging flesh under his eyes made him look on in years.
"I said halt."
Even with Fred's warning, he was as arrogant as his rigidly upright posture.
He rode out leisurely, like he was on a stroll.
Daring to ignore the gatekeeper's command?
If I'd been there, I'd have smacked the horse's head. Or maybe drop-kicked the bastard's chest.
You, asshole—deducted points in my book already.
"Whoa—whoa."
The rider reined in before Fred.
He flashed a sleazy grin.
"Well now. Wondered who was blocking my path."
"State your business."
These two know each other.
That was my conclusion.
"Fuckin' thing. Those bastards, that's it—you know."
"You mean they're acquainted."
Hmm. Not just me who noticed.
Only an idiot wouldn't.
"Fuckin' thing. Yeah, that's it. Steron, right?"
"It's Steron."
"Fuckin' thing. Yeah, Steron."
"Do you have to stick that vulgar word in like a refrain before every sentence?"
"Fuckin' thing. Why? Better than getting axed, ain't it? Ibu's axe hurts like hell."
"True enough... but the boss wouldn't like it, would he? Spouting filth while living with our holy leader—it's unbecoming."
"Oh, yeah? Fucki—er, no. Ibu'll try. Ibu's noble, super hard worker."
Ibu and Steron bickered with their mouths.
It wasn't sharp-tongued enough to grate, though—actually kinda fun to listen to.
Steron using me as an excuse to rein in Ibu was amusing too.
'Guess I should watch my own swearing. Hits a little close.'
My crew's banter is music to my ears, but their silence rubs me wrong.
Staring down the quiet rider started pissing me off.
What the hell's he holding? That feather-decorated riding crop—oh, a horsewhip.
The jittery flicking bugs me—like he's got nervous tics or something. Chasing flies?
Don't really care what history those two have.
Everyone's got some baggage.
And what grand story could a prick like that have anyway?
So I just watched blankly.
"I'd heard the cowardly instructor who betrayed the royal family's grace and fled was coughing up a storm in some border town's outpost of an enemy kingdom."
His slow drawl oozed leisure.
That tone—what is it? So cultured, yet...
"Fuckin' thing. Such a prick."
Right, a prickish tone.
"Oh, not fuckin' thing. You didn't hear that, right Steron?"
"I heard—"
"You didn't hear it, got it? Say so."
"Ri... ght."
Probably some royal family member.
Coming with just six escorts screams minor post nowhere.
I imagined his identity on a whim.
More curious about Fred's response than the prick's background or bluster.
"Brad's envoy, state your business."
Fred's voice trembled faintly.
But no disappointment here.
He's got words to say.
"Well, I'll be. I expected impudence from a returning traitor, but this is a bit much."
"Brad's envoy, state your business."
Fred's voice steadied.
Yeah, that's my Fred.
He knew exactly why I'd shoved him out front.
- "Boss Kalruk, I don't wanna step up. Hate showing my face in official spots."
- "You said you'd help catch Esrellak? Then help me. What I need from you is the fortress's proud representative. Fred Shobiding."
Relationships are impulsive.
Formed by chance moments, broken by fleeting emotions.
To sustain them, you need deals.
Not just transactional trades.
One-sided flows always crash eventually.
I'd seen plenty, with all my "friends" back then.
Some where I was the mark—gave my all, got stabbed in the back...
Fuckin' thing. Blood pressure spiking... Those scam heretic bastards who stiffed me and badmouthed me behind my back. Meet again, and I'll carve you up personally.
- "Boss Kalruk, not enough guiding the bandits?"
- "I can do that, Yuderg can, even Holy Knights could. Doing what you can is fine, but sometimes you gotta do what’s needed to survive. Think the group runs if everyone just does what they want? Hate it? Then plot for Esrellak with Requiya alone."
A bit cowardly and cold, maybe, but I explained our bond plain and simple.
My consideration for folks from a world with different values. If they don't see it that way, oh well.
This much bossing around is necessary to keep the organization and bonds intact.
I'm the boss, after all.
"Brad's envoy, state your business."
The third and final warning left Fred's lips.
Now it depended on the mounted prick's move.
Would Fred draw, or usher the envoy in?
"Hmm. Dear me. Not just discourtesy to royalty, but botching envoy protocol entirely. No breeding at all."
This prick, now?
The instant he spouted nonsense, I launched myself forward.
Veins bulging on the back of Fred's sword-grip hand.
I'd told him to stand tall, but didn't want Fred stained by Brad's deeds.
Luckily, Fred caught my arrival and froze. No sword drawn before the envoy.
Standing beside Fred, I stared blankly at the prick looking down smugly from his horse.
"Well now."
He seemed intrigued by my light leap from the high ramparts.
But that was it.
He stroked his chin, studying me.
Wanted to gouge his eyes out right then, but held back.
Instead, I offered a languid, gentle greeting.
"Don't you dare lecture on rudeness. My orders. I'm in charge. Question my judgment? Heretic. Heretics get death."
Pretty gentle, right?
Warning to Brad's envoy, signal to Kruke.
"Heretics get!"
Kruke led from the ramparts.
"Death!"
Archers revealed themselves, shouting in unison. Bows drawn with nocked arrows, strings quivering ready to loose.
'With their sloppy aim, even I'd be in danger.'
Still, the vibe was pure Robin Hood and crew.
No tights or feathered caps, though.
"Such insolence!"
"What madness toward the king's representative!"
As the envoy panicked, an aide shouted.
Escort knights raised shields and charged.
I didn't miss their hands gripping sword hilts and warned.
Opened my divine power simultaneously.
"Gonna draw? Better not. Draw and you die."
Light outpaces sound.
Unchanging truth, distance be damned.
My voice trailed; divine light hit them first.
The charging horse reared in fright.
"Argh!"
One aide tumbled onto the stone pavement.
The escorts heeded my warning—no draws. But for contingencies, they gripped swords and flared mana.
'Don't know much about Brad, but knight-grade at least?'
Not Red Dragon Knights level.
But their escorts' resolve burned fiercer than anyone I'd met.
Knights who never forgot duty—commendable.
'Yuderg too.'
Charged the continent's top Holy Knight, got pummeled unconscious. Despite knowing he couldn't win.
Thinking back, knights were like that.
Red Dragon Knights, Hellite Holy Knights.
They had spirit.
Different goals, but conviction as knights.
Respect first for such folk.
I smiled warmly at the escorts.
"Haha. Wanna die? Who dares unleash mana before me?"
Oh boy.
As a Holy Knight with middle school education, my improv's top-notch.
To gloss the slip, I pointed at the envoy.
"It was you who skipped manners first..."
Turned to Fred.
Uncle Fred, what's this guy's name?
Reading my eyes, Fred murmured low.
"Prince Narcopeff. Seventh son of the late King of Brad."
Couldn't help but be shocked.
A prince?
Already guessed noble blood—no surprise there.
Reason was elsewhere.
'Insight Ability says false?'
Prince title true, but late king's son? False.
That's what Insight Ability told me.
'Not the king's son, yet called prince?'
Bingo.
Logical as ever.
I scowled, focusing on my heart's signal.
Prince Narcopeff saw embarrassment, probably.
The prince smirked arrogantly, face still flushed from the archers' entrance.
"Get it now? Before Brad's seventh prince—"
Still facing Fred, I jabbed a finger at the prince.
"Hey, we're talking here—shut it for a sec."
Prick, interrupting grown folks' conversation.