Entering Lantarique (3)

Guillaumevalt took complete control of Saenopi Fortress and the nearby estates within just a week.

During that time, Azadine explored a secret base of the Naga Empire. Apart from the Nether language interpretation book, he didn’t gain any significant information, but he did manage to acquire a lot of money and weapons.

Since they had been pushing through forced marches, they spent the week exploring the secret base while taking enough time for rest and maintenance. Azadine’s broken ribs fully healed, and they managed to recover from the fatigue accumulated during their travels.

However, soon, they had to leave.

“Azadine! Sir Ject the Arbiter has appeared in a nearby village!”

Sir Zebec came to inform Azadine of this news. Azadine, who had been training with Mediam and Ismail, was startled upon hearing it.

“Ject? How far away?”

“A day’s distance.”

“Ah, damn. We didn’t buy much time.”

Azadine frowned at the news.

“Buying time?”

Mediam asked.

“When I handed the Heavenly King’s Book of Truth to Nefti, I left traces of myself on it. It was to throw off Ject’s pursuit.”

When Azadine gave one volume of the Heavenly King’s Book of Truth to Nefti, the 75th-ranked Messenger, he included a talisman made from his own blood. If Ject tried to track Azadine using magical means, it would lead him to Nefti’s group instead.

“Oh, right, I remember that now. I was wondering why you so readily gave away a volume of the Heavenly King’s Book of Truth.”

Mediam nodded in admiration.

“There would have been no reason to give it away otherwise.”

“I thought you were just trying to stay on good terms with the Arael faction.”

“Well, if we can get along, that wouldn’t be a bad thing. But Arael and I are fundamentally incompatible.”

“He’s still over by the estate. What should we do?”

Sir Zebec asked Azadine.

Should they fight? Should they flee? If they chose to fight, should they ambush him on the road and assassinate him?

Or should they fight in front of witnesses and expose Ject’s use of dark magic? There were many choices.

“An ambush on an empty road might cause more harm than good. But if we fight in a crowded place, will he refrain from using Nether magic, or will he decide to just kill all the witnesses?”

Azadine shrugged.

“No matter what, if we fight, innocent people will die. Let’s run. The Nether magic Ject uses is a burden on his body as well.”

“The man who performed a miracle and defeated the Wendigo is running away from a Holy Knight? Even after taking down the Reaper of the Nether?”

“First of all, I didn’t perform a miracle. The miracle acted upon me. And second…”

Azadine chuckled at Ismail’s question.

“A fool is someone who doesn’t acknowledge fear. Yeah. Ject is terrifying.”

“You performed a miracle, but you’re choosing a very pragmatic approach.”

“A person can die from a single inch-deep stab wound. Even a hero who slays dragons can be killed by a child’s slingshot. Complacency is the real enemy. So, are we ready to run?”

Azadine’s group had already packed their belongings and changed the horseshoes of their goats and horses to be ready for a quick escape.

Guillaumevalt was more than willing to go along with Azadine’s plan to flee from Ject.

“Wouldn’t it be better to bring some soldiers along?”

Brand asked. Saenopi Fortress still housed soldiers who had served under Sir Brock, and he wondered if it would be wise to take them.

“If we fight, we should only deal with Adler and his closest subordinates. There’s no need to escalate the battle unnecessarily. The more soldiers we bring, the bigger the incident becomes.”

Guillaumevalt responded to Brand before asking a question.

“But my father treated the Messenger Clan members more like guest generals rather than subordinates. If that was part of a deal using the Emperor’s Treasury as bait, wouldn’t Adler also know about it? What if he’s already opened the treasury?”

“That’s impossible.”

Azadine answered firmly.

If the Emperor’s Treasury had been opened and its contents taken by the Arael faction, there was no way the Messenger Clan wouldn’t have heard about it.

From the Arael faction’s perspective, they would want to publicly declare their acquisition of the Emperor’s Treasury to rally support from the still-neutral Messengers.

Having successfully evaded Ject, Azadine’s group traveled towards Lantarique without any major incidents for a day.

However, the next morning… it started to rain.

“A rare sight.”

Having carried out missions in Salasma—a region plagued by droughts and famines—Azadine was happy to see rain again after so long.

But soon…

The wind turned into a storm, and the rain became a torrential downpour, making it nearly impossible to see ahead. The floodwaters rose so much that all but the Imperial Road turned into a muddy swamp.

“What’s with this crazy weather?”

“Whoa! Watch out! It’s slippery!”

The Imperial Road, sometimes called the Empire’s Highway or the Kingdom’s Highway, was paved with stone, so it didn’t turn to mud even in the rain. However, the flowing water on the stones made the goats’ hooves slip.

Azadine’s group quickly moved their horses and goats to the roadside. But then, their feet sank into the mud, and Scott, who had been using a goat to pull his wheelchair, let out a scream.

“Ugh! I should’ve brought a palanquin!”

“Even if you did, we wouldn’t have carried it for you.”

Mediam snapped at Scott for even mentioning it.

“As expected, low-intelligence beings rely solely on brute strength. Why not use the undead?”

“If you make the undead carry a palanquin in the middle of a major road, even a regular Holy Knight—not just Ject—won’t let it slide.”

“I could disguise it with illusions.”

“No, forget it. Don’t waste your time. A palanquin is useless, but if necessary, a wheelchair can be broken down for spare parts, right?”

In fact, Azadine had previously used the wheels of a wheelchair to transport heavy objects and wooden spears.

While Mediam and Scott were bickering, a large inn with a bright lantern hanging outside came into view at a crossroads in the distance.

“Let’s head there for now!”

“Yeah. I’m starving!”

Scott agreed.

The sudden downpour and raging winds made the road treacherous.

It seemed that everyone in the vicinity had gathered at this inn to escape the rain, as it was packed with people.

However, a tense and menacing atmosphere filled the large hall of the inn.

Weapons glinted dully in the hands of armed individuals, reflecting the glow of the fireplace and torches. Two distinct groups of people were gripping these weapons.

“You bastards! How dare you?!”

“Do you think the Korasar Peddler Guild is a joke?!”

“And what about the Talvarine Guild? Do you think we’re a joke?!”

“Oh, I do. A drug cartel and a bunch of slavers? So scary.”

“You filthy wanderers!”

The armed merchants were snarling at each other, drawing clubs and swords as if ready to fight at any moment.

“The Peddler Guild and the Talvarine Guild?”

Azadine recognized that some of them were from the Korasar Peddler Guild. But the Talvarine Guild?

‘Those slaver bastards?’

It was the Talvarine Guild that had sold the children of the Swamp Witch. These armed merchants were both traders and criminals, with their core leadership composed of an elven family.

Three peddlers had flipped a table to form a barricade, while the majority of the armed merchants were threatening them.

The numbers were clearly imbalanced. The attacking merchants numbered around ten, while the Peddler Guild had only three members. The only reason the fight hadn’t started yet was that the barricade was giving the peddlers some defensive leverage.

Azadine gestured, and Brand stepped forward.

“Ahem. Gentlemen. Presenting the Count of Lantarique, the protector of the barony, and the rightful heir of Sir Garnahaer, Lord Regent of Lantarique—Sir Guillaumevalt!”

“Huh?”

“Uh…”

“This man is the one who drove out the Wendigo, the beast that had seized Saenopi Fortress. He was on his way to Lantarique. What exactly is happening here? If there is a dispute or grievance, bring forth a petition. In the name of the Count of Lantarique, we promise a fair judgment.”

“In the name of the Count of Lantarique…”

A scoffing laugh escaped from among the Talvarine Guild merchants.

It seemed Count Garnahaer’s reputation wasn’t particularly good. Either that or these men had some reason to be uneasy.

“So, what is this about?”

Guillaumevalt stepped forward with authority. Despite his long, narrow face, deep-set eyes, and generally ugly features, his expression carried such a commanding presence that it sent chills down everyone’s spines.

It was as if a non-human, superior being had taken on human form and was now speaking with divine authority. The onlookers trembled.

‘They’re just weak to authority.’

Azadine judged the situation in his mind.

“That damned Korasar Peddler stole our letters with some sneaky trick!”

“Nonsense! They were caught spying on our business records, purchase prices, and trade logs. That’s why we detained them!”

The moment they heard this, Azadine, Mediam, and Ismail internally groaned.

‘They got caught?’

‘Idiots.’

The Korasar Peddler Guild was actually a covert spy network operating in the Korasar Kingdom region under the Messenger Clan. Outwardly, they were merchants, but in reality, they were spies. And now, some of them had been caught red-handed.

“We just happened to find those letters while rescuing someone from a bandit attack.”

“Then why was the seal on the letters broken?”

“The bandits must have read them.”

“The courier carrying the letters was impaled on a hook and died. And the weapon you’re holding has the same kind of wound pattern as the injuries on his body.”

One of the Korasar Peddler Guild members was holding a blackjack, a club with a leather strap and a weighted stone inside. It could be used to strike enemies or be modified for throwing.

Additionally, the metal ring on the strap had sharp, jagged edges, and there was blood on it. The armed merchants were claiming that this was their comrade’s blood.

“That’s a lie. There’s more than one person who uses weapons like this.”

“No, that’s not all.”

One of the merchants pulled back his hood, revealing golden hair with a faint green tint—a color impossible for a human.

His pointed ears and the war paint drawn in white under his eyes made it clear.

He was an elf. Likely a high-ranking member of the Talvarine Guild.

“Don’t try to deceive the nose of an elf. I swear on my ancestors that the blood on that weapon belongs to our courier.”

“Ugh…”

“An elf…”

Even the battle-hardened Korasar Peddler Guild members faltered upon realizing they were dealing with an elf.

Despite being known as slavers and criminals, the Talvarine Guild was still feared and respected wherever they went. That was because elves were never to be underestimated.

And on top of that, the peddlers had guilty consciences.