Where The Angel’s Blood Went (7)

A tongue no bigger than a fist swelled in an instant, turning into a massive mass of tentacles as thick as a man’s forearm.

But perhaps because the original body was so small, its rate of change was not all that impressive.

“I’ll cut it!”

Izmilla drew her sword to slash Giacomo’s tongue, but Azadine blocked her blade.

“Wait.”

“Yes?”

“Let it be until it grows to Giacomo’s size.”

“What…?”

“If it can swell into a monster as big as Giacomo, that is. Can a tongue the size of a finger really grow that much?”

As Bernard said that, he released the water-binding spell that had been holding Giacomo.

“Cough!”

Tongue severed, Giacomo coughed and spat out blood and water.

“If we send him to the Order as-is, he’ll die. We’ll have Vermilion Fortress take custody of him, Captain.”

“That’s what I meant. Got it, Izmilla?”

Izmilla also understood why Azadine had said that. If the Nether magic bound to Giacomo’s tongue left behind enlarged remnants, they could present that as evidence and spirit Giacomo away.

That was Azadine’s intent.

This went beyond merely siphoning off an elixir made from an angel’s blood.

But the doubt Azadine raised—whether the upper ranks of the Rescue Knights Order were truly trustworthy—was something Izmilla had also been suspecting.

‘They sent an investigation leader without clearance authority. If not for Sir Azadine’s help, by now I…’

This entire incident—Giacomo’s disappearance—had been a trap meant to draw her away from the Order’s center.

In this situation, taking Giacomo back to the Order would be the same as killing him, and Izmilla agreed.

The question was whether Azadine could be trusted. Izmilla stared at him.

When their eyes met, Azadine gave a faint, crooked smile.

It was a smile that seemed to mock the Order’s laxity, yet even that mocking look was so captivating that Izmilla reflexively looked away.

‘Why do I trust him so much?’

There was no reason she should, yet she did.

In the meantime, Giacomo’s tongue kept proliferating and began to thrash violently.

Now the tongue had multiplied to the size of a small puppy.

“Camilla! Kuntachi!”

“Huh!”

“You called?”

“Get Giacomo out of sight. Make sure nobody outside sees him.”

“That’s asking for something difficult.”

“I think you can do it, Camilla.”

“The reason I said it was difficult is because it would be difficult for anyone but me. Be sure to state that clearly, and compensate me later.”

“Understood.”

At Azadine’s words, Camilla handed the alchemist Giacomo off to Kuntachi, prepared rope, and dashed outside.

“Come with me, sis!”

“Hey! It’s a covert op, so be quiet!”

Camilla and Kuntachi disappeared with the alchemist Giacomo.

“Now then…”

“Yeah, this is nothing, right?”

Azadine reverted Aurelia Dawn back into a longsword shape and looked at Giacomo’s rampaging tongue.

A long tentacle shot out from the tongue and attacked Azadine.

Azadine swung Aurelia Dawn and cut the tentacle off, but the tentacle’s toxic slime splashed toward Azadine’s eyes.

“Hmph.”

Azadine turned his head away to avoid it, set Aurelia Dawn alight, and minced the tentacles again. For Azadine—who had fought all kinds of monsters—this was no match.

‘It’s like Sir Ject’s tentacles. But weaker.’

The severed tentacles shrank slightly from their original size, but they definitely left behind remnants.

“Good. This is enough!”

Azadine split Giacomo’s tongue straight down the middle.

Giacomo’s tongue, which had grown as large as a calf, collapsed as it burned in flames.

“Bold and audacious, Sir Azadine. If I had refused to join your scheme, what would you have done then?”

Izmilla had decided to trust Azadine, but even so, she seemed uneasy about using the Order’s secrets without authorization.

“Then Giacomo’s poor daughter would suffer and die, and Giacomo would die pointlessly. The bastards who tried to use him to kidnap you, Sir Izmilla, would get even bolder and drive me out.”

“…….”

“You know, don’t you? Why they sent an investigation leader without clearance? This was a trap from the start—meant to hand you over to our enemies. Sir Pavel lacked the capacity to lead the team. The others likely did as well.”

“Insulting an elder violates the Order’s etiquette, but… I cannot deny that Sir Pavel’s capability did not meet the needs of this mission. And although you are breaking minor rules, I understand that only you, Sir Azadine, can cut through the threats facing the Order right now. Sir Azadine. I will cooperate with you.”

Izmilla promised to cooperate with Azadine.

The Rescue Knights Order’s official communications channel was an information-transmission spell that used ancient mirrors possessed by bishops.

But Fireglyph was a non-bishopric district with no bishop, so they were reporting upward through the blood-letter transmission method used by ordinary blood mages.

“Ugh, hurry up already. This takes a lot of blood, you know.”

Bernard coughed and refused, and since the rule was that the person who usually did such magic should do it, Fireglyph’s certified blood mage was preparing the transmission. The old man trembled, holding his knife over the basin meant to catch the blood.

“Yeah, an old man doesn’t have much blood to spare.”

“Then keep it as concise as possible.”

“Understood.”

Azadine looked at Sir Pavel, whose lips were jutting out as if he disliked having to rely on heterodox magic.

“In any case, this investigation is all your achievement, Sir Azadine. You should make the report as well.”

“Hahaha.”

Azadine laughed to conceal his awkwardness.

No matter how lacking his aptitude was, if Azadine made the report while Investigation Leader Sir Pavel stood there, they would think Pavel was dead.

‘There are probably people who’d like him dead, too.’

But given Sir Pavel’s temperament and his administrative competence, if they made him use a blood-magic message, the blood mage might die of hemorrhage.

“Send this: ‘Giacomo secured. Culprit is Sir Hexenmaier. Investigation Leader Pavel.’”

“Ah… understood.”

The blood mage cut his own hand and mixed blood into the basin, then stamped that blood onto the paper placed atop the magic circle and wrote the blood letter.

The report would be delivered by having the same writing appear at the receiving end.

“So then… who rules Fireglyph in the meantime? Does the captain do it?”

When Camilla asked curiously, the Fire Guards, Yan and Tamin, answered in flustered tones.

“W-well, normally, if there is no Chapter Master, the Fire Guard governs this place in an acting capacity.”

“But the Fire Guard commander, Sir Timothy, was arrested as an accomplice.”

“Yes. So… it seems the acting governor will have to be appointed by the investigation leader, sir…”

The two Fire Guard knights glanced at Sir Pavel. At his age, he was still only a common knight—Hospitaller rank—so he must have been either painfully untalented or had entered the Order very late.

Either way, he lacked the qualities to govern Fireglyph. In rank and experience, he was outclassed by the knights of the Chadra Plateau who would come here.

Yet the man himself seemed delighted at the thought of ruling this great city.

“Hahaha. Though my talents are shallow, I will undertake it with the resolve to grind my bones to dust.”

At Sir Pavel’s words, the Fire Guards hesitantly spoke.

“That is all well and good, but…”

“Do you happen to know the Chadra Five Ogres?”

They asked in a hushed tone, as though telling an old story meant to frighten children.

Just saying the name Chadra Five Ogres made the Fire Guards shudder, as if merely imagining them was unbearable.

“No. When I trained as a messenger, I learned about major figures and heroes across the continent, but I’ve never heard of them.”

Azadine, however, was indifferent.

It was as if he were saying:

‘Where do these country bumpkins get off hyping up their own “ogres” and whatever? Aren’t they ashamed?’

“The term refers to five prisoners who were exiled to the Chadra Plateau but built independent power bases. Despite the severity of their crimes, they were too gifted to be executed, so the Order had no choice but to exile them.”

“What kind of people are they?”

“Sir Sork the Necromantic Knight. Wild Druid Sedrin. Half-vampire Niselda. Smuggling King Chashan. And Sir Selim the Hippogriff Rider.”

“Ah.”

Azadine marveled.

“I’ve never heard of any of the five.”

Still, from their epithets, they would not be easy opponents.

‘Given Sir Pavel and Izmilla’s capabilities, they’d be outmatched.’

In the end, the most realistic option might be for Azadine to govern Fireglyph himself.

‘Well, even if we leave it to Sir Pavel, I’ll end up doing it anyway.’

Smuggling King Chashan was the head of a dwarven criminal organization—a self-made figure who formed a massive drug-smuggling syndicate called the Dwarven Arrow, which ran routes across Banreung and all of Arangi.

In Banreung, which captured him, they feared that after his death the organization would splinter and create even more headaches, so they handed him over to the Rescue Knights Order. But the Order also had no neat solution, so they exiled him to the Chadra Plateau to weaken his organization.

Afterward, the Dwarven Arrow installed a new boss and kept operating in Chashan’s stead, but Chashan formed a new organization even on the Chadra Plateau, built independent smuggling lines, produced goods directly in Fireglyph, and amassed enormous wealth.

Among the Chadra Five Ogres, he had the strongest information network, so he was the first to hear the rumor that Fireglyph’s Chapter Master, Sir Hexenmaier, his guard force, and Fire Guard commander Sir Timothy had fallen from power.

“Azadine, the Emperor’s Messenger… The Order really brought another odd one into the Chadra Plateau.”

Chashan was a dwarf covered in blue tattoos, with the markings reaching up onto his face—an eerie sight. They were magic tattoos that proved he was a dwarven sorcerer.

Designed to let him handle his innate mana better, the mana tattoos shone of their own accord and radiated power in response to his emotions.

“What should we do, boss?”

Smuggling King Chashan’s base was the southeast rock wall. The administrator there was Sir Braham, a knight of the Rescue Knights Order.

An elderly Hospitaller-Paladin, he held the next highest position among the knights on the Chadra Plateau after Sir Hexenmaier and Sir Timothy, and in fact had even longer service than they did.

Yet this Sir Braham was smiling servilely, calling Chashan—his prisoner, whom he was supposed to oversee—“boss.”

“Braham. You’re the most seasoned Holy Knight here, aren’t you? No, even cold water has an up and down. A Messenger Clan brat who just entered the Order shouldn’t get to swallow Fireglyph whole. A tasty district like that is too much for a newcomer to monopolize, so let’s propose divided rule—or joint rule.”

“Ah, I am not the most experienced Holy Knight. Sir Sork outranked me.”

Sir Sork the Necromantic Knight. Absorbed in necromantic research, he had violated the vows and was now a prisoner rather than a Holy Knight. But like Chashan, he still reigned as a de facto ruler.

“That guy’s a prisoner. What matters isn’t his ‘seasoning’ as a Holy Knight—it’s his seasoning as a puppet ruler, isn’t it?”

“T-that’s true. As expected, boss. Your insight is remarkable. But if we propose divided rule, won’t the others step up as well?”

“Of course. That’s why we go first and set the board. We decide who gets the tastiest piece, and we slot the other guys into the board we’ve made. That Messenger Clan Holy Knight brat won’t be thinking he can eat this place alone, either. Now, gather the boys. Let’s go do business.”

“Understood.”

Sir Braham immediately began making preparations to leave for Fireglyph.