Episode 100

Azadine opened the fortress gates and ushered out all the guards and civilians.

“Won’t the Count’s army just slaughter us the moment we step out?”

Though fear and doubt gripped them, nothing happened when they left the fortress. The Count was preoccupied fighting the mysterious monsters—undead that had suddenly appeared—and couldn’t spare attention to his rear.

The members of the Messenger Clan aligned with Arael’s faction, who had formed a loose alliance with the Count, were also on the move, avoiding Azadine. However, they showed no signs of immediately rejoining the Count’s forces.

Their plan was simple: assist the Count’s army only when they were in peril. That way, they could justify their failure to take the fortress.

‘Ah, we were just about to capture the fortress, but a disturbance arose in the rear, so we came to provide support. If you had been more prepared, we would have succeeded.’

This excuse would allow them to cover up their defeat against Azadine. Those leaving the fortress were confused to see the enemy in retreat.

“We’re… safe?”

“A-amazing.”

“Incredible. Is this the Messenger Clan? They’re extraordinary.”

The soldiers were awed by how smoothly Azadine’s plan unfolded. In the dark of night, with the moonlight faint, they followed him into the unknown. It felt like crawling through a never-ending cave, unsure if there was an end at all.

The future was uncertain, and fear gripped their hearts. Yet Azadine strode forward boldly, leading them into the ominous unknown.

‘This man is truly brilliant and wise. Did he predict all of this?’

‘And this confidence… How can he be so self-assured?’

As the people gazed at Azadine in awe, he turned to look at them.

‘I’ve started this, but… what’s going on? I thought unsealing the Heavenly King’s Book of Truth would make Ject pursue me, but no? And what’s with the undead army?’

In truth, Azadine was bewildered. But he knew that if he showed any sign of confusion or fear, those following him would likely descend into panic. So, he deliberately feigned composure.

“Well then, everyone. This is where we part ways. May the blessings of the Three Great Archangels be with you.”

“……”

Azadine’s invocation of the archangels’ blessings left the group stunned.

To them, the Messengers were soulless heretics—beings who killed gods and served the Emperor. Yet, here was one of them speaking words of blessing from the very faith they revered, the faith of the Rescue Knights and the angels.

‘Is this man a believer in the angelic faith, a member of the Rescue Knights? Could it be that the Messengers aren’t soulless heretics after all?’

The common perception of the Messengers was that they were soulless beings, devoid of faith, who killed without remorse. Faith, for most people, was a testament to the soul’s existence. The Messengers, who killed the bloodline of the gods without hesitation, were thus deemed to lack souls.

But here was Azadine, invoking blessings. This meant he had faith, and therefore, a soul.

‘That explains why he saved us without expecting anything in return.’

‘But parting ways here?’

Azadine, from his mount—not a horse but a mountain goat—drew his sword and pointed north.

“Follow the northern road to avoid Lantarique. Once you reach the territory under the King’s Church’s control, you’ll be safe. My comrades and I will act as decoys to ensure the army cannot pursue you. This is where we say goodbye.”

“Ah!”

“But it’s dangerous.”

“Are you sure you’ll be alright, benefactor?”

Delmere stepped forward to ask.

“I’ll be fine. But Shati, you must come with me.”

“……”

Azadine declared that while the others could leave, the Naga agent Shati would have to stay with him. Realizing she had no choice, Shati sighed in resignation.

“Alright, fine. I doubt I could escape from you anyway.”

“Then once again, may the blessings of the angels guide your path.”

Azadine’s graceful farewell left the group deeply moved as they began their retreat. Yet, one figure remained behind: Sir Brand, the Brass Knight.

“Sir Brand?”

“I’ll go with you.”

“What? You’ll come with me?”

Azadine was taken aback by Brand’s insistence.

‘Hmm… What should I do?’

He admired Sir Brand. In a harsh world, doing the right thing often required a touch of madness.

‘Anyone who chooses madness over succumbing to life’s hardships, no matter how eccentric, deserves respect. But it’s hard to accept this request. He’s not a soldier; he’s an elderly scribe. He won’t survive this journey. I’ll have to persuade him to stay.’

So, Azadine offered a diplomatic excuse.

“Sir Brand, I must ask you to stay and escort these people to safety. Who else but the renowned Sir Brand of Lantarique could protect them?”

Azadine tried to coax him into accompanying the evacuees. However, Brand replied firmly.

“First of all, I’m no knight. I’m Brand, the former scribe of Count Lantarique.”

“……”

Azadine’s face flushed with embarrassment.

‘I assumed he was out of his mind and rambled nonsense. How embarrassing.’

Brand cleared his throat.

“Ahem. I won’t claim I’m entirely sane. I know how hard that is to believe. But I’ve regained a sliver of clarity.”

“Are you alright?”

“Of course… though this feels like a nightmare.”

Brand grimaced, clutching his head.

“I can still hear whispers of madness. My family was slaughtered and defiled, and I…”

“Calm yourself. Are you saying your sanity has returned? Then why…”

“I served as Count Lantarique’s scribe and knew too many of his secrets. Fearing he’d kill me, I fled with my family, but we were captured by Doneor and his men.”

Brand turned to Azadine.

“That was hell itself. And you freed me from it. I wish to repay you, no matter how.”

“Repay me?”

Mediam, who had been listening, found the conversation strange.

“To be honest, I used to hate the Messenger Clan. But to think that the one who helped me in my darkest hour would be a Messenger… It’s shameful. I want to repay this debt, even at the cost of my life.”

“Repay? With what? The hidden treasures of Count Lantarique?”

Mediam was puzzled. Brand had neither wealth nor an extraordinary weapon. What could he possibly offer as repayment?

“Do you know why the Messenger Clan has allied with Count Lantarique?”

“What?”

“What if the original template for minting the Emperor’s gold coins still existed?”

“…!?”

“What?”

Mediam, Ismail, and Azadine immediately understood what the old man was suggesting.

“The Emperor’s Mint?”

Among the Messengers, the Emperor’s Mint was the stuff of legend.

The Emperor’s gold coins were imbued with incredibly complex and powerful magic, making them impossible to counterfeit. But what if the Emperor’s Mint were discovered, and the secrets of the gold coins unraveled?

With access to the mint, the Messenger Clan could mass-produce the Emperor’s gold coins, freeing themselves from the Curse of Service. Additionally, they could control the Emperor’s Voice and the miracles of petition at will.

While interpreting the Heavenly King’s Book of Truth to break the Curse of Service was vital—it was, after all, the most powerful grimoire on the Hubris Continent and contained the secrets of the Yaegas God Tribe’s strength—securing the Emperor’s Mint would still be an invaluable asset.

“The Messenger Clan would undoubtedly be interested in the Emperor’s Mint, wouldn’t they?”

“Are you saying the mint is in Lantarique?”

“No, but there’s a clue to its location in Adirov.”

Adirov was another estate owned by Count Garnahaer of Lantarique.

“Understood. Let’s go together.”

“Thank you.”

Brand expressed his gratitude to Azadine.

“Then, Brand, ride with me.”

Azadine helped Brand onto his mountain goat.

“To Lantarique, then.”

“To Lantarique? That’s dangerous.”

“With the Count’s army pulled back, now is the perfect time to move. The Count likely intends to wipe out the residents of Salasma, but with you, it shouldn’t be difficult to evade his soldiers. Isn’t that right?”

“Well, yes, but…”

“There’s a clue to the Emperor’s Mint there.”

“Alright, let’s go.”

Azadine decided to follow Brand’s suggestion.

‘I’d like to find out more about the undead that attacked, but that’ll have to wait.’

Having taken in Brand, a non-combatant, Azadine needed to avoid conflict whenever possible. He set out with his party, heading toward Lantarique.

Azadine’s group halted near the Kora River. The docks they needed to cross were already swarming with Count Lantarique’s soldiers.

As the primary crossing between Lantarique and Salasma, it was clear the Count had stationed a significant number of troops and a trusted commander to defend it. Losing this position would isolate the Count in enemy territory, cutting off supplies from Lantarique.

“Let’s rest here for now, Shati.”

“Why do you call me like I’m your house pet? I’ve lived longer than you. Call me Lady Shati.”

“Do you want to lose your head?”

Mediam pressed her blade to Shati’s throat, prompting her to gulp nervously.

“Help treat Azadine’s wounds.”

“Ah.”

Zebec watched intently, curious to see how Shati would heal the injuries. Suddenly, Brand broke the silence.

“Have you heard of the Prophecy of Jupiter?”

“That’s blasphemy forbidden by the King’s Church.”

Zebec let out a deep sigh. The Prophecy of Jupiter was an apocalyptic prophecy often spouted by madmen.

The prophecy foretold that when the Age of Jupiter dawned, the King’s Church would lose its power, and an ancient evil that wandered the land before the Kurt God Tribe would be resurrected. It also predicted that the Light of the Crown would weaken and even the glory of the Three Great Archangels would fade.

Such predictions, which mocked the King’s Church, were considered unthinkable to anyone of sound mind.

“To be precise, the prophecy states that when the Age of Jupiter arrives, the ancient masters submerged in Netherstrom will return, the Light of the Crown will wane, and even the brilliance of the Three Great Archangels will vanish. It’s a prophecy that foresees the weakening of all sources of white magic in this land, not just the King’s Church.”

Brand’s words made Zebec’s gaze sharpen. The prophecy didn’t just attack the King’s Church but also the angelic faith of the Rescue Knights. Was this old man challenging him?

“That’s blasphemy. Only madmen would speak such nonsense.”

“No, it’s the truth. The Light of the Crown is already weakening.”

“…!”

Zebec’s tired eyes widened in shock. His rage was palpable, his gaze so fiery it seemed it might incinerate the old man before him.

But Brand remained unfazed, meeting Zebec’s hostility without flinching.