The Pilgrims’ Ordeal (3)

Even at the moment they had first set out, they had possessed enough force to devastate one or two small fiefs and still have men to spare. If one counted the infantry that followed their cavalry as well, even great nobles like counts or dukes would have been left with headaches.

“What is this…?”

Yet now, the only ones left on this spot were Izmilla, a Hospitaller-Errant, and Macdogal, an archivist who was also a squire—just the two of them.

Izmilla was startled by the fact that the holy knights had abandoned her and fled. Then, from beyond the fog, human voices carried over.

“Hahaha. A wise choice.”

“Izmilla of the Rescue Knights Order! Surrender and come with us. Then it ends.”

“W-Who are you people?!”

“Come with us and you will learn soon enough.”

“What do you mean…?”

But at that moment, the female thief stopped Izmilla.

“Idiot, don’t answer. They can find our position by sound!”

Sure enough, a spear flew toward the area near Izmilla’s voice.

The female thief and her younger brother raised their shields and quickly stepped in front of Izmilla. This spear struck a nearby rock and threw sparks.

“Oops. My apologies. I had no intention of killing you. I just thought it would be easier to drag you along after taking some strength out of you.”

“Don’t worry. We have no intention of killing you, young lady Izmilla.”

The person beyond the fog spoke like that, sneering. It was the sort of dominance a cat impressed upon a mouse cornered in a hole.

In this situation, the female thief pressed Izmilla.

“So. Holy-knight princess. Will you promise us payment?”

“But I….”

“Your authority is way stronger than you think. Or what—are you expecting us to just devote ourselves without even promising pay? Then it’s better for us to just run.”

“No! That is exactly what the enemy wants!”

Just then, a man walked out from the prisoners’ jail. The gaunt, withered man had picked up a dagger that lay on the ground, and as he coughed, he approached Izmilla.

“Since I saw you use the Emperor’s gold coin, you’ve got no right to complain if this lowly one uses a bit of blood magic.”

“That’s right.”

“N-No, wait.”

Izmilla was flustered, but with only her and Macdogal left from the pilgrimage band, she had no choice.

“This fog is blood magic, too. A spell used to split us apart, and its effect is incredibly powerful.”

At the gaunt prisoner mage’s words, the female thief asked,

“So? Are they better mages than you?”

“No. Not exactly. Blood magic has been growing stronger lately. The Age of Jupiter must be nearing.”

Saying that, the prisoner mage sliced the tip of his finger with the dagger and drew blood.

“Thanks to that, this lowly one’s blood magic has grown stronger as well.”

From his blood, red spiders appeared. The spiders scattered quickly, attacking nearby leeches, tearing them apart, drinking their blood, and multiplying.

“…….”

Watching that, Izmilla fell silent.

A blood mage, a female thief, and even the thief’s younger brother—a half-orc giant. None of them were ordinary.

“Now, promise it. Holy-knight princess. If you don’t promise payment, we’ll run.”

“A-All right. If you help me, I will pardon you and promise you the position of cleric as payment. Just don’t call me ‘princess.’”

“Ah. Cleric? Nice. That.”

The half-orc, delighted, swung the sword his sister had given him, smashing the approaching undead.

“What’s so nice? At best you’ll be a Hospitallers’ lackey.”

“A cleric is given a house that can keep one horse, and three serfs. If you plan to settle, it’s not bad.”

The blood mage said that and gestured to the half-orc.

“But the blood spiders are my constructs, so don’t pop them, please. Cough, cough.”

“But I hate spiders. This crawls up my body. I hate it.”

“My spiders are attacking the leeches on your body to help you. If you pop them, it troubles this lowly one.”

“Right, sis?”

“It’s true. I know you hate spiders, but endure it.”

The female thief confirmed it for him.

“Now then, how do we escape….”

“Since we used the Emperor’s gold coin, won’t a messenger come?”

“As if an Emperor’s messenger would be that close. I heard recently they went and looted Korasar over there.”

Then suddenly, strange sounds began to come from beyond the fog.

“Ghk!”

“Aaagh!”

People screamed, and the blood hail that had been pouring from the sky fell silent.

“What happened?”

“W-Who knows?”

But then—soon after—voices carried from beyond the fog.

“Did someone summon an Emperor’s messenger, by any chance?”

A young man’s voice pierced the blood fog. The calmness sounded like a waiter announcing that an order was ready in a crowded restaurant, and everyone froze.

“Uh. Over here—”

Without thinking, Izmilla tried to stand, but the female thief stopped her.

“Are you crazy? You don’t just walk out because someone calls.”

“But what if it’s an Emperor’s messenger?”

“Don’t know. Hey, blood mage—what do you think?”

“He is killing my spiders. They are decreasing at an extraordinary speed, so he is quite a strong one.”

“Yeah?”

“And the other ones are retreating as well. Though it could be a trick.”

Even as they spoke, the fog was thinning. The fog spell was collapsing.

Either someone had eliminated the caster, or the caster was withdrawing the spell while laying a scheme on them.

As they hesitated, unable to act either way, a voice came from directly ahead.

“There you are.”

A young man wearing a bird mask approached.

“Hey! Get that guy!”

“Yeah! Sis!”

The half-orc youth sprang up, swung his sword, and charged. At the same time, the female thief threw herself sideways to widen her angle and hurled her hand axe.

If he dealt with the axe, he would be exposed to the half-orc’s charge. If he dealt with the charge, he would take the axe.

Yet the bird-masked young man casually caught the flying hand axe with his hand, then raised his sword—still in its scabbard—and received the half-orc’s brutal attack with the grip and guard.

It had been a strike loaded with enough force to fell a great tree, but the young man simply lowered his body, as if it were nothing. In that instant, something astonishing happened.

-Whoom!

The half-orc’s huge body flew through the air and slammed into the ground disgracefully.

It was a technique at the pinnacle of martial skill—using the opponent’s own strength to throw him—but to anyone who didn’t understand, it looked like magic.

“Ugh!”

The female thief lunged in to save her brother, spitting as she slashed with the daggers in both hands. A small metal pellet shot from her mouth, aiming for the young man’s mask, while her blades flashed from left and right.

The young man let out a sigh and extended his sword forward. It looked like an indifferent response, but the pellet struck the pommel and bounced away.

-Swhoosh!

And when the young man twisted his sword, the slashes coming from both sides were brushed aside into nothing.

“Huh?!”

He reached out and flicked the female thief on the chin. It looked ridiculous—but the effect was certain.

Her eyes spun, and she toppled over.

“S-Sis!”

The half-orc jolted upright in shock.

“‘Sis’?”

The young man, about to draw his sword, flinched at that word and stopped.

“Stop!”

At that moment, Izmilla stepped forward.

“I am the one who summoned you. Emperor’s messenger!”

“Hm. Then calm this one down.”

The young man dodged the half-orc charging at him, swinging his sword.

“Waaah! This bastard hit my sis!”

The half-orc charged in, tears and snot streaming. He swung the sword like a club; even when it struck rock and the blade snapped—shards flying and his face becoming a mess of blood—he did not stop.

“Hey. Quit it, Kuntachi! No snacks, got it?!”

“M-My sis?!”

At the word “no snacks,” the half-orc froze and stopped his attack.

“Ah, calmed down? Good. I didn’t want to kill you because I didn’t know who the client was, but you were starting to annoy me.”

The young man shrugged.

“I’m Azadine, the First Messenger of the Emperor.”

“First Messenger?!”

“Yeah. You could say I’m the best among the Emperor’s messengers. You lot are very lucky. If I hadn’t happened to be nearby, you would’ve died.”

“Oh. So that’s why.”

The blood mage clapped.

“Good. This lowly one had confidence in his skill, in his own way. Honestly, if you had been the lowest-ranked messenger, I might have lost my confidence.”

“If I had been the lowest-ranked, you say?”

The messenger who introduced himself as Azadine gave a bitter smile.

It was absurd to him that this blood mage flaunted such arrogant pride toward the messenger bloodline—but now was not the time for a battle of egos.

“So, who’s the client?”

“This lowly one.”

A young man who looked late teens to early twenties stepped forward. Archivist Macdogal declared himself the one who had hired the messenger.

“Lord Macdogal?”

“Sir Izmilla. Using the Emperor’s gold coin to summon him was a noble choice for the pilgrimage band. However, within the Order, borrowing another’s power—and especially relying on beings like the Emperor’s messengers, who are like demons—will surely invite trouble later. Therefore, leave that responsibility to someone insignificant like me, and let Sir Izmilla walk a spotless path, without a single stain upon her record.”

The Rescue Knights Order did not persecute Emperor’s messengers as doctrine the way the King’s Church did, but they still shared the same prejudice.

In the end, the Rescue Knights Order’s members were also people of Hubris. They had no reason to feel goodwill toward the messenger bloodline, called regicides of the Heavenly King and soulless blasphemers.

“But the client is that young lady. Now that I look, I’m sure of it.”

As if he had the power to recognize the client, the messenger pointed to Izmilla.

“Yes. I am the one who used the coin—the client is myself.”

When Izmilla said so, the messenger nodded.

“Good. I saved you, so the commission’s completed, right?”

“No. You must get us out safely—”

“For one coin, I think I’ve done more than enough. You’re greedy.”

Azadine shook his head.