Episode 112

Guillaumevalt still didn’t want to accept reality.

Count Lantarique had never been a loving and affectionate father. But that was simply how father-son relationships among the nobility worked.

For Guillaumevalt, who had always been subtly looked down upon due to his lack of swordsmanship and his unfortunate appearance, the only sources of pride he had were his status as a descendant of the Yaegas God Tribe and being the son of Count Lantarique.

Yet now, not only was the father who had given him life an outright villain, but he had also decided to discard Guillaumevalt entirely in favor of his youngest son, Adler. And to make matters worse, all the retainers had known about this decision—except for him.

Not only had all his efforts to become a capable successor been in vain, but he had also been playing the role of a fool in front of the retainers. The humiliation was unbearable.

Even more shameful, however, was how quickly he was getting exhausted.

“H-hold on… I’m getting tired. Can we take a short break?”

Despite technically being a knight, Guillaumevalt could barely even ride a horse properly. His legs were worn out from absorbing the impact of the galloping horse, making him desperate for another rest.

“You take breaks way too often.”

Mediam grumbled from her position astride a mountain goat. It was a far more erratic and bouncy ride than a horse, yet she absorbed the shock effortlessly. She even stood on the saddle with both feet, using the goat’s jumps to propel herself into the air, performing mid-air acrobatics before landing gracefully.

After soaring up and scouting the area, Mediam landed and looked at Guillaumevalt with blatant disappointment.

The humiliation burned deep within Guillaumevalt. This young girl could effortlessly control a goat, while he—a supposed knight—was already exhausted? If he had any pride left, he would rather bite his tongue and die in the saddle than admit defeat. But it was simply too much to endure.

Azadine, seeing Guillaumevalt’s hidden distress, stepped in to stop Mediam.

“Don’t be too hard on him. Did you notice anything unusual when you jumped up?”

“Oh. The road ahead is blocked.”

“The road is blocked?”

“Yes. Soldiers have set up a barricade.”

As they crested a small ridge, they saw that Mediam was right—soldiers had erected a barricade.

“What’s going on? Let’s move up to the blockade and rest there.”

Azadine took the lead, guiding the group forward.

A barricade had been set up on the wide road of the Imperial Highway, built by Emperor Yaeslat. Around it, soldiers, non-commissioned officers, and a mass of refugees had pitched tents and were camping out.

Beyond the barricade, a thick fog blanketed the road. Even a single wagon’s distance was enough for travelers to disappear into the mist. Since this was a basin, fog wasn’t unusual—but this level of density was beyond natural.

‘I can feel the magic.’

Azadine clicked his tongue, sensing a powerful magical presence emanating from the fog.

“Halt!”

“Whoa there!”

The soldiers stopped Azadine’s group.

“You must not pass beyond this point.”

“Turn back! Go back, I said!”

At this, the merchants and travelers who had arrived before Azadine’s group began protesting.

“At least tell us why!”

“Well….”

The soldiers hesitated, glancing at someone nearby. A middle-aged man in armor, a bottle of alcohol in one hand and a gleaming sword in the other, was drunkenly waving his weapon around.

“Uuugh! That damn wench! How could she do this to me?! You lot! Turn back! I said, turn back! Do you not see the fog? If you step into that mist, I can’t guarantee your lives!”

He was drunkenly throwing his weight around, keeping the merchants and travelers from passing.

“…Sir Brock?”

“Huh?”

Guillaumevalt recognized the man and was surprised.

“L-Lord Guillaumevalt?!”

The man, referred to as Sir Brock, also recognized Guillaumevalt and was startled. His drunkenness seemed to dissipate as he quickly straightened himself, showing respect.

‘Judging by his title, he must be one of Count Lantarique’s vassal knights. Wasn’t he part of the traitorous retainers?’

Azadine was puzzled by the knight’s reaction to Guillaumevalt.

“What’s going on? Aren’t you the lord of Saenopi Fortress and its surrounding estates under Lantarique’s domain? Why are you out here? Why is there a barricade?”

“Well, you see….”

Sir Brock looked troubled.

“It’s nothing.”

“Nothing? Then why is the road blocked? And that fog doesn’t seem natural.”

“……”

“Answer properly. You mentioned a ‘wench’—did something happen to your wife?”

“Well….”

Sir Brock let out a heavy sigh and pressed his lips together.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

It was an obvious lie. So obvious, in fact, that Guillaumevalt was stunned.

‘Is this bastard mocking me because I’ve fallen from grace?’

But that didn’t seem to be the case. The traitorous retainers at the forward fortress hadn’t even sent out signal flares or flag signals. They might have sent a courier, but that was all.

“Yes. Suddenly, this cursed fog descended and swallowed Saenopi Fortress. I managed to escape with the residents, but unfortunately, my wife is still inside.”

“That can’t be. This is the Imperial Highway. The Light of the Crown is strong here. Evil magic shouldn’t be able to manifest.”

“I don’t know the details. It happened all of a sudden.”

At that moment, among the frustrated merchants protesting the roadblock, a few individuals approached Azadine.

“Huh?!”

Among them were members of the Korasar Peddler Guild—Messenger Clan merchants.

“Ah, you’re with the Korasar Peddler Guild.”

Recognizing them, Azadine stepped forward.

“May I have a moment to speak with you?”

That knight was clearly hiding something from Guillaumevalt.

Even when Guillaumevalt pressed him, the man only swayed drunkenly, keeping his mouth tightly shut even in his inebriated state. He wasn’t going to talk.

Judging this to be the case, Azadine left Sir Brock to Guillaumevalt and instead decided to exchange information with his fellow Aragasa.

“But before that, I have a question. What’s with that Holy Knight?”

The merchants of the Peddler Guild eyed Sir Zebec with suspicion.

“Just call him an ally.”

“An ally? How does one end up calling a Holy Knight an ally?”

‘If I tell them that my ideals are so great that even a Holy Knight follows me, they’ll think I’m joking, won’t they?’

Azadine knew better than to say something so careless to the merchants.

“If he’s a Holy Knight on the verge of being expelled from the church because of a bad superior, would that make sense to you?”

“Hmm… Even so, wouldn’t a man like that still want to return to the church someday?”

“So, he’s an ally for now, but you’re saying we should be cautious since he might part ways later?”

“Yes.”

“I see your point. Then let’s speak a little further away from him.”

Azadine put some distance between himself and Zebec before preparing to speak.

“But one more thing—are you Elder’s Faction, or Arael’s Faction?”

One of the Korasar Peddler Guild’s men suddenly asked Azadine.

“Arael’s Faction?”

Azadine immediately noticed their choice of words was rather neutral. If they were hostile toward Arael, they would have used terms like “traitor” or “betrayers,” but they simply called it “Arael’s Faction.”

“Wait, wait, I know who this is! It’s him—Azadine of Disgrace.”

“Oh! Azadine of Disgrace? You mean Lady Arael’s younger brother? Then he must be part of Arael’s Faction.”

“We’re thinking about switching over to Arael’s side as well. It’s hard enough for hired hands like us to make money in different regions, but if she’s lowering taxes, that’s an offer worth considering.”

“If Arael is building a nation for the Aragasa, that could work out nicely. Hehehe.”

“……”

Azadine clicked his tongue at their words.

“What makes you think I’m with Arael’s Faction?”

They had already assumed he was on Arael’s side, thinking that because they were siblings, he would naturally take her side.

Azadine felt sick.

Did they have any idea what Arael had done to him?

The only reason his face only had scars was that he had been born without eyes in the first place. If he had possessed eyes, and if Arael had actually gouged them out, could he still have smiled and embraced her as his sister?

Yet these people thought nothing of his scars, dismissing them as a childhood accident. Since he was born without eyes anyway, and his face had always looked strange, they believed a few scars were nothing.

To them, now that Arael had gained power and status, Azadine would surely laugh it off and join hands with her.

Their shallowness disgusted him. It infuriated him that they took his resolve—his hatred for Arael—so lightly.

“Ah.”

“Hahaha, we were just testing you! Of course, we’re with the Elder’s Faction. We were just worried since you share blood with Arael.”

“No way a traitor could ever succeed! No matter how strong Arael is, it’s just a temporary spark. In the end, the Elder’s Faction will prevail.”

The merchants quickly changed their stance the moment they saw Azadine’s anger. But their blatant flip-flopping only made their true nature clearer.

‘Seems like those who couldn’t become messengers and ended up as merchants have their own way of thinking.’

Essentially, they planned to side with whoever emerged victorious in the end.

Regardless of whether Arael’s side or the Elders’ side won, neither could afford to ignore the merchants who managed the Messenger Clan’s external affairs and income.

That was good news for Azadine.

“So, why is the road blocked here? And why is that knight drinking and waving his sword around while refusing to explain anything?”

When Azadine asked the merchants, they chuckled.

“Well, it seems that the knight’s wife became a cultist and performed some kind of ritual.”

“A cultist? Which faction?”

“That part, we don’t know. Are you planning to investigate? With all that fog, it’d be best not to go inside….”

“Hmm.”

After speaking with the merchants, Azadine returned to his companions.

“This is unbelievable. Sir Brock was known for his diligence and devotion. Among our vassals, he was one of the most composed and devout, which is why he was entrusted with tax collection for Saenopi Fortress and its lands…. And besides, isn’t this part of the Continental Road?”

Azadine thought of the road as the Imperial Highway, since it was built by Emperor Yaeslat, but the King’s Church members often called it the King’s Road or the Continental Road.

“The Light of the Crown is weakening.”

Scott McGreen, who had been traveling with them in a wheelchair, made a smug remark. He seemed pleased that his earlier words had been proven correct, though it was infuriating for Sir Zebec to hear.

“This makes me realize just how lacking my self-discipline is. Even though I know it’s true, hearing it said aloud still makes me angry.”

“It’s fine. I understand. It’s nothing new to see low-intelligence species get caught up in their emotions. Even among orcs, those who give up on their futures and simply rely on brute strength end up letting their muscles control their brains, and they turn into complete fools.”

“……”

That last remark made Zebec even angrier.