The Sunken Ship (2)

“Sir Zebec?”

“Ject the Arbiter might chase after us. What are you going to do?”

“I’ll stop by the Korasar Peddler Guild first to gather some information and then make contact with high-ranking officials to report the situation. It’ll be troublesome for you, won’t it? Should we part ways here?”

“Please don’t say that, Azadine. To be honest, as long as Ject the Arbiter is still alive and well, I won’t be safe anywhere. I’ll continue following you for the time being. Even if I do, I won’t be violating my duties as a Holy Knight of the King’s Church.”

“Why?”

“Didn’t you say that your sister is of imperial blood?”

Azadine and his group were just outside the room when they overheard Arael claiming to be of imperial blood after Adler had arrogantly flaunted his lineage.

“If your twin sister is, then you must be as well.”

“Doesn’t the King’s Church despise the Emperor?”

“That may be true, but noble blood is still noble blood.”

“Noble blood, my ass… You’re usually reasonable, but sometimes you’re a complete idiot. I suppose that’s inevitable for someone from the King’s Church.”

Azadine could see that Zebec was struggling to reconcile his identity as a Holy Knight with Azadine’s actions.

It wasn’t that Zebec was unaware of the contradictions—he was simply trying to mitigate the shock of his crumbling and restructuring values.

‘Holy Knights really are a severe case. But I suppose that’s what makes them Holy Knights. If he abandoned his beliefs too easily, it would just mean his faith wasn’t that strong to begin with.’

Meanwhile, Scott, who was in a wheelchair, bumped into a drunken man staggering around.

“Hic… What the hell? Why is a crippled bastard riding around in that thing, knocking people over? Damn, I’m hurt. Pay up for my medical expenses, you bastard.”

The drunkard lay down dramatically, but as soon as Zebec glared at him, he sprang to his feet.

“Oh! Why didn’t you say you were with a Holy Knight, sir?”

“Damn it. The people here have no consideration for those in wheelchairs! These imbeciles! Don’t they realize that a physically disabled person can still have extraordinary intellect, and that their genes should be passed down to future generations to maximize the potential of their race?”

As Scott voiced his displeasure, Azadine responded.

“First of all, you’re not one of our kind. Second, you’re not using a wheelchair because you’re disabled—you just don’t want to use your muscles.”

“If even someone as privileged as I can barely get around in a wheelchair, imagine how hard it must be for those who are actually injured or disabled. Hmph.”

Just as Scott said that, Azadine came to a stop.

They had reached the commercial district, where the offices of various trading firms were clustered together. The rowdy taverns catering to dockworkers gave way to a quieter street patrolled by night guards, drastically changing the atmosphere.

“Sir Zebec, please wait around here for now.”

A person with high aspirations would naturally attract allies. That was how Azadine justified the presence of a Holy Knight in his group, though bringing one into an unfamiliar branch office would undoubtedly be inconvenient.

“Understood.”

“Alright then. I’ll leave Scott and Shati in your care as well.”

Azadine entrusted Scott and Shati to Zebec and headed toward the Korasar Peddler Guild office.

“But….”

Azadine frowned.

“Sir Guillaumevalt boasted to the Senate that they could lift my curse.”

Azadine muttered as he looked at the Korasar Peddler Guild office in Lantarique.

Inside the Lantarique branch headquarters, he spotted Derek—the former messenger who had worked at the Peddler Guild in Salasma—and Calypso, the 106th-ranked messenger whom he had previously defeated.

“Azadine, is that you? Hmm. I was trying to track down the orphans you requested, but you already took them in yourself.”

Azadine had asked Calypso to find and protect children who had been mistaken for members of the Messenger Clan and persecuted, as well as other children who had been sold into slavery. However, Azadine had found them first and entrusted them to the Peddler Guild.

“Yeah, they happened to be on my way. But you’re speaking rather informally now, aren’t you?”

When Azadine had previously defeated Calypso, the latter had been overly respectful, calling him senior and watching his words carefully. But now, after a brief separation, Calypso had casually switched to informal speech.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Never mind.”

There was nothing to gain from arguing about whether or not Calypso still called him senior. It wasn’t as if respect from Calypso would suddenly grant Azadine anything valuable.

“Uh, anyway, if you took care of the matter first, you should’ve at least informed me. You wasted my time.”

“I told them to notify you through the Peddler Guild. The message must not have reached you.”

“Ah, well. Things within our clan have been a bit chaotic lately.”

“So what brings you here?”

“Lady Arael has placed a bounty on Aldis Jedaha. Not only that, but she ordered that any messengers or noble families loyal to the Senate be captured and either persuaded, eliminated, or tracked down. Some are actively chasing Aldis Jedaha, but I figured I’d slack off a bit instead.”

“Lady Arael, huh….”

Azadine felt a sense of unease at how naturally Calypso referred to Arael with reverence.

“You do know that I opposed Arael, don’t you?”

Calypso nodded.

“Yeah, I heard. They say you rejected Lady Arael’s grand vision out of a petty grudge from childhood. How small-minded of you.”

“Small-minded?”

Azadine was furious at Calypso’s words.

It wasn’t just a trivial matter. Sure, when simplified, it might seem that way, but calling someone small-minded for refusing to forgive and reconcile?

‘This makes it even more unforgivable.’

Azadine glared at Calypso in disbelief.

“The Senate and the Five Great Bloodlines are sinking ships. They’ve ruled Aragasa for centuries, but they’ve achieved nothing, nor have they presented a solid vision like Lady Arael. The future of our clan lies with her. The merchants are trying to straddle both sides for now, but I’ve decided to serve Lady Arael with unwavering loyalty.”

“……”

“By the way, do you know what Lady Arael likes? What does she enjoy?”

“At the very least, I know what she hates.”

“Oh? What is it?”

“You.”

Azadine left Calypso with those words and walked into the office. Inside, several people sorting documents recognized him immediately.

At the largest desk sat the Lantarique branch chief, a middle-aged woman with sharp, elegant features and a composed demeanor. She adjusted her monocle and cleared her throat.

“Barging in like this… Normally, I wouldn’t meet with a low-ranking messenger directly. But as Lady Arael’s brother, the situation is different.”

She emphasized that point.

To the Aragasa Clan, the Emperor’s messengers held the highest status. Everyone in the clan strove to become messengers, competing fiercely for the role.

But not everyone could become one.

Most ended up as servants or merchants, working in the external organizations of the Messenger Clan. Those who aged out or suffered injuries also transitioned into these roles.

However, people naturally rationalized their circumstances. Despite once aspiring to be messengers, those who failed began to claim their positions were equal to or superior to the messengers.

Merchants, in particular, wielded influence due to their wealth and connections, making them indispensable to active messengers.

‘So basically, she’s saying she’s meeting me only because I’m Arael’s brother?’

Sure enough, the branch chief lowered her voice and spoke to Azadine.

“We have not yet decided whom to support. However, as Lady Arael’s brother, we have no reason to treat you poorly. If you have a request, speak.”

“First, I wanted to report to the Senate directly, but I lost the Emperor’s Voice… and was abruptly dismissed.”

Initially, Azadine had been outraged at the Senate’s sudden decision to strip him of his position. But now, he understood the situation better.

Arael had rapidly gained influence among the youth, even winning over the Flowers, Birds, Wind, Moon—the four captains raised by the Senate.

At this rate, if a full-scale war broke out between the Senate and Arael’s faction, Azadine would bet on Arael’s victory.

Given the circumstances, the Senate had likely sought to bind Azadine in place, fearing he might be swayed.

‘And apparently, Arael openly declared that she cares about me.’

The way people looked at Azadine had changed.

Arael’s beloved brother.

Everyone seemed to think that.

‘It makes things easier, but it’s still humiliating.’

“So, what do you want, Arael’s brother?”

The Lantarique branch chief asked Azadine.

“I want to meet with a nearby elder.”

“We’d like that as well.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“We claim neutrality for now. But the Senate is in hiding, fearing Arael’s faction. They’re unreachable.”

“Wait. Are you saying the Senate is afraid of Arael’s faction?”

Azadine felt dizzy.

The Aragasa Clan had been the Emperor’s messengers for centuries. Was that entire tradition now crumbling at the hands of a single person—Arael?

“So, even if you claim neutrality, you have no way of contacting the elders. How can I meet one of the leaders?”

“I can’t help with that. But what about meeting the Ethar Bloodline?”

“The Ethar Bloodline?”

“Yes. In the capital of the Korasar Kingdom—Coral Sahar—the branch chief there is from the Ethar Bloodline.”

Coral Sahar was the original name of the Korasar Kingdom.

Most people simply called it Korasar, but the branch chief deliberately used its archaic name to flaunt her sophistication.

‘If that’s the case, should I call myself Asahdin too?’

Azadine found her unnecessary formality amusing, but given her beauty, it was oddly not irritating.

At the mention of the Ethar Bloodline, Mediam clapped her hands in realization.

“Oh! You mean Brother Zion.”

“Yes. The Ethar Bloodline likely maintains contact with the elders.”

In short, the Senate was in hiding, fearing Arael’s faction.

Even if Azadine wanted to prove his innocence and have his Curse of Servitude lifted, the Senate was too afraid to meet him, lest their location be discovered and they be purged.

‘What the hell is going on? How did it come to this?’

“Hmm…”

Mediam hesitated.

“In this situation, wouldn’t it be wiser to surrender to Arael?”

She suggested that it might be best for Azadine to join Arael and have her lift his curse.

“I’d rather die.”

“That much?”

“Mediam, you’re from the Ethar Bloodline, yet you’re suggesting I join Arael’s faction?”

“I’m just saying… it’s the rational choice.”

Rationally, it was the best move.

But was his refusal to reconcile with Arael purely emotional?

No.

Azadine had noticed something when confronting Arael—she was using the power of the Nether World.

However, claiming that without proof would be dangerous.

In the current climate, even if she wielded forbidden power, many would still support her.

Ultimately, Azadine decided to head to Coral Sahar, the capital of the Korasar Kingdom.