Chadra’s Conqueror (1)

After Azadine seized control of Fireglyph, the very first task he carried out was an internal-affairs purge.

It was an investigation to see whether there were doppelgangers among the Fire Guards, the regular guards, and the laborers… but perhaps because information had leaked, the doppelgangers had gone to ground first.

Although he failed to smoke them out directly, the revelation that so many doppelgangers had infiltrated still delivered a massive shock to Fireglyph.

Alongside that internal purge, Azadine began the work of reclaiming the assets Sir Hexenmaier had embezzled.

Sir Hexenmaier’s bastards and the interest groups that had clung to him pushed back. But since this was being conducted in tandem with the doppelganger investigation, no one could openly resist.

In just one week, Azadine seized control of all of Fireglyph’s assets and manpower flows. Then, using that authority, he began redeploying personnel.

He launched a project to relocate those who had been stuck as lower-class drifters in Fireglyph with no real work, sending them to Vermilion Fortress.

He also repaired roads and formed additional patrol units to patrol each route, so supply convoys could move more frequently.

In addition, he made the supply corps’ purchase prices more realistic, and began transforming Fireglyph’s subordinate cities from being mindlessly exploited into a competitive trading network.

Naturally, the soldiers and residents of Vermilion Fortress welcomed those changes.

“My goodness! I can’t believe it!”

“He really sent people! I thought it was just talk!”

Azadine had promised the people of Vermilion Fortress that he would grow the fortress—turn it from a place of exile into somewhere people could actually live, somewhere they could live like human beings.

He had set a long grace period for that promise, but even Azadine himself had not expected visible results to appear this quickly.

‘I didn’t expect I’d seize Fireglyph this fast, either. That’s why I’d been thinking a generous six months.’

But then, a meddler appeared for Azadine.

Sir Braham was a rare Hospitaller-Paladin on the Chadra Plateau, and he outranked Investigation Leader Sir Pavel.

He entered Fireglyph, assessed the situation, and formally requested a meeting with Sir Pavel.

The meeting room chosen was the former office of Sir Hexenmaier—now called the Chapter Master’s office of Fireglyph.

When the appointed time arrived, Sir Pavel appeared with Izmilla and Azadine, the two trainee knights, in tow.

“How have you been, Sir Pavel? It’s been a long time.”

“Ah, Sir Braham. You look well.”

“That’s because I breathe clean air and eat good food. Haha. But who are these fine young man and woman at your side? Ah—these must be the much-talked-about Sir Izmilla and Sir Azadine.”

“You flatter us.”

Izmilla replied like that, while Azadine silently looked past Sir Braham—at the dwarf behind him, Smuggling King Chashan.

“I was under the impression the investigation has already concluded… Sir Pavel, don’t you think Fireglyph’s administration ought to be handled by someone who truly knows the Chadra Plateau?”

“That is why I am supporting Sir Pavel.”

When Azadine stepped in to speak, Sir Braham clicked his tongue.

“Yes. Sir Azadine of Vermilion Fortress. How long has it been since you came to Chadra? About two months now?”

“Yes. Two months and about ten days.”

“You can’t claim to understand this ever-changing region in that short a time. This is an untamed land where legendary monsters, ferocious wild magic, and the grotesque blood of ancient gods exist. Everyone here has their own way of surviving, and it would be troublesome for an outsider who doesn’t know those circumstances to judge things rashly. So… I believe we must form an advisory council and manage Fireglyph cooperatively until a new Chapter Master is chosen.”

On the surface, it sounded reasonable.

But to Azadine—who already held Fireglyph—this was effectively a demand to hand over what he had taken into his grasp.

Moreover, Smuggling King Chashan was cultivating things that violated the Order’s law—poppies and hemp—and selling them for profit.

If they yielded Fireglyph—the gateway linking the Chadra Plateau and the Kingdom of Arangi—to such a man, what would happen was as obvious as fire.

“Things are running fine even now. Is there really a need to establish a council and waste the strength and attention of the wise seniors of each region? Besides, even if we form a council, won’t it be dissolved the moment a new Chapter Master is appointed?”

“Haha. Do you think a new Chapter Master will be chosen so easily? Within the Order, factions will clash over who should be promoted—or who should be exiled. While things drift like that, all sorts of external pressures will bear down on Fireglyph. My small loyalty is simply to prevent that. Please, do not let my loyalty come to nothing.”

Sir Braham kept insisting on forming a council, convinced that factional strife within the Order meant a Chapter Master would not be decided quickly.

‘Hmm. Honestly, I’ve already achieved my goal of reinforcing Vermilion Fortress with manpower, so I could just humor them. But I don’t want to open the road exactly the way that drug-smuggling dwarf wants it. Still, Sir Braham talks well. Most likely that dwarf—Smuggling King Chashan—planned it all, and Braham is just executing it verbatim.’

Azadine fell into thought as he looked at Chashan, who was manipulating the situation from behind Sir Braham.

And then it happened. A sudden scream rose from outside the window.

“Kyaaaah!”

“Uaaagh!”

And with a loud flutter, something landed on the office terrace. A hippogriff—an enormous beast with the upper body of an eagle and the lower body of a horse—had touched down on the terrace. Then a man dismounted from its back.

“Hahaha! Starting something without me? That hurts! I’m hurt!”

“S-Sir Selim.”

Not only Sir Pavel, but even Sir Braham—who had been speaking smoothly until a moment ago—looked troubled.

No wonder. The man who stepped off the hippogriff had the head and legs of a bull.

Chadra Five Ogre, Sir Selim the Hippogriff Rider, was—astonishingly—a minotaur.

‘Wow. Fireglyph buildings are sturdy. A hippogriff flew in carrying a minotaur and it still held up?’

Worrying about the building’s durability, Azadine looked at Sir Selim. Selim strode forward, thumped his chest loudly, then dropped into a seat without anyone telling him to.

The wooden chair cried out with a pitiful creak. It was clearly a chair meant to withstand even high-ranking guests—sturdy enough to handle the weight of three humans with ease—yet it still creaked when a minotaur sat on it.

“A guest came, and there’s no hospitality? Bring me some fodder tea.”

“Fodder tea?”

When Azadine blinked in surprise, Sir Selim looked at him as if to say: why are you surprised by fodder tea, the latest trend that everyone is bound to love?

“Ah, right. You—pretty thing over there—must be that angel, Izmilla or whatever. And the woman next to her is the Messenger Clan’s Azadine?”

“I am Azadine, Sir Selim. If I may—could you refrain from flying in overhead? The building won’t endure it.”

“Hah. Damn it. So the Order’s talent shortage has gotten so bad that they’re letting in a soulless blasphemer. I know they claim they accept anyone as long as they believe in the Three Virtues, no discrimination—but the Messenger Clan is a bit much, isn’t it? A Holy Knight ought to have noble blood worth emulating, universal virtue, and loyalty! And yet they accepted a suspicious bastard like you.”

“…….”

For a moment, Azadine was speechless.

‘He’s a minotaur and he’s talking about bloodlines. Is being from the Messenger Clan worse than being a minotaur? As a Holy Knight, is the former a bigger disqualification? No—does thinking like that make me a racial supremacist? Damn it. I’ve always prided myself on being open-minded… and now I want to discriminate against him just because he’s a minotaur.’

Azadine seriously mulled that over.

“Anyway, pretty-boy! I oppose you running Fireglyph! I flew in to oppose you—so be grateful!”

“It’s not me, but Investigation Leader Sir Pavel who—”

“Tch. Do you think my eyes are knot-holes? It’s obvious you’re the one holding real power. What wicked scheme are you plotting with that authority?”

“…….”

Azadine was flustered by Sir Selim’s distrustful, combative attitude, but…

‘Huh. I like this bastard.’

Strangely, he did like him. Unlike that drug-smuggling dwarf, this one—astonishingly—was one of the few genuine Holy Knights who actually held loyalty to the Order.

And precisely because of that, he was doubting and distrusting Azadine.

‘At this pace, the other Chadra Five Ogres will show up, too.’

Sure enough, out on the terrace, the hippogriff suddenly began to rampage. Looking outside, Azadine saw a goshawk with a blue beak flying in—and at the sight of that hawk, the hippogriff grew agitated and thrashed.

The goshawk dodged the hippogriff’s attacks, then suddenly shone with light and transformed into a white mare with a large pale mane.

When the hippogriff grew even more excited and tried to wheel around toward the mare, the mare kicked hard with its hind legs and smashed into the hippogriff.

“Hey! You—!”

As the hippogriff shrieked, its rider, Sir Selim, also flew into a rage.

The mare blazed with light again and transformed into a female elf whose body was etched with tattoos. With hollow eyes, short for an elf, and a gaunt frame, she looked haggard—as if she had gone several nights without sleep.

“Selim. Your rutting hippogriff nearly got me killed.”

She drew her loose clothing closed, walked over, and sat at the table.

“This happened because you flew in first! You could’ve just come through the door—did you really have to hit my pretty one?! You wicked elf!”

“If it dies, that too is part of nature’s cycle.”

“What? If my pretty one dies, you’ll die by my hand too! Consider that part of nature’s cycle!”

“I was going to treat it, but with that attitude, I suppose I won’t.”

“…No, you treat it because you’re the one who damaged it. My pretty one got scared!”

At that point, Smuggling King Chashan grumbled.

“It makes sense for Sir Selim—he’s a knight—but Sedrin, you’re not a knight. You have no grounds to be here, do you?”

“I was appointed by Hexenmaier as the forest keeper of the Black Soil Forest. If Hexenmaier got purged, of course I had to come. And you, too—stop hiding behind Braham and come out directly. Everyone already knows, anyway. The infamous name of the Chadra Five Ogres.”

‘I don’t, though.’

Azadine thought that, but he didn’t say it out loud. The pride of these “Chadra Five Ogres” prisoners seemed immense. If he dismissed them carelessly, they looked ready to make it a matter of life and death.