Ceramite (2)

“Welcome. Sir Azadine, Sir Selim. My master had been waiting for you.”

“Were you Sedrin’s sister?”

“Yes. My name was Dilia. Hehe. Did Sedrin ask after me?”

“She did ask after you. But this really was a remarkable place.”

“To hear that from the Emperor’s Messenger, who had visited the golden city of Vthuma and the beautiful Coral Sahar, moved me deeply. Now, please get into the carriage. Couldn’t we talk on the way?”

“We came on a hippogriff—couldn’t we just fly there as we were?”

“Hehe. Then why did you get off halfway?”

“To rest for a bit.”

“Then shall you rest and talk in our carriage?”

Dilia kept urging them into the carriage. From the look of it, she seemed determined to draw Azadine into the manor.

“Mm. I should’ve prepared first.”

Azadine regretted flying here on a hippogriff with Sir Selim without any special preparations. If he was going to face a formidable foe, he should have at least traded with the Van Dyke Trading Company and secured a few shots of Shadowsteel Blade.

At present, Azadine had only five Blue Sun Farewell arrows and five ordinary arrows—ten in total—set into his quiver.

“What should we do, Sir Azadine?”

Selim asked Azadine whether they should ride the carriage.

“Since it had come to this, I should meet Sir Sok and see what sort of man he was. We’ll ride.”

After hesitating for a moment, Azadine decided to board the carriage.

The carriage drawn by ghost horses was as quiet as if it were floating above the ground.

In fact, it hovered slightly above the earth, moving comfortably regardless of the uneven terrain. If this were possible not only in this domain but elsewhere as well, it would truly be a revolution in transportation.

“Hmm. You’re handsome, Sir Azadine. I’d heard stories, but you exceeded my imagination… Sedrin would like you very much.”

The elf woman Dilia—Sir Sok’s servant, and said to have been Sedrin’s sister in life—spoke like that and smacked her lips. Beneath her pallid face, an unusually red tongue showed, and below it, mutated sharp teeth were visible.

Elves already had cannibalistic customs. Now undead, Dilia concealed her true nature behind the beautiful appearance she’d had in life, but beneath that thin layer, a monster that craved human flesh would be sleeping.

As that monster’s cloven hoof showed plainly, Azadine frowned.

“Sedrin would like me. How long had it been since you were parted from her? How could you speak so certainly of her tastes?”

“Ah, of course. That child had the same tastes as I do. And now I… hehe. I don’t know if it will be rude, but I feel an intense longing for you.”

“And you were satisfied working under Sir Sok?”

“Me? Of course I was satisfied. Those who say death is rest are only those who have never experienced death. If you actually die, you end up wanting to kick that so-called rest away, no matter what.”

“Well. Those laborers over there would probably think differently.”

Azadine pointed at the laborers hauling ore along the roadside.

Undead laborers carried loads with difficulty, panting and suffering. Even though they had bodies that no longer needed to breathe, they panted as if alive, complaining of pain exactly as they remembered from life.

“Was there any need to keep even the souls of simple laborers bound?”

“But if you don’t bind their souls, they can’t do complex work. Repeating only simple tasks doesn’t help manage an estate at all. Besides… ah.”

Azadine ignored Dilia’s words and looked out the carriage window.

Outside, several blast furnaces were belching smoke.

Even at a glance, there were eight. These weren’t mere forges, but crucibles meant to produce wrought iron.

“So there was iron ore here too.”

“Yes. There is a mine. Because of the work of mining, the pitch coal, and forging steel from it, the Rescue Knights Order had no choice but to rely on Sir Sok.”

“…….”

Since he already knew they were mining cinnabar with the undead, Azadine could understand.

If Sir Sok used the undead to extract iron ore, refined it himself, and produced iron goods—weapons and tools—the economic effect would be beyond imagination.

He was likely gaining profits comparable to Chashan’s Southeast Rock Wall, where drugs had been made and sold.

And judging by the number of undead here, it would not be an exaggeration to call Sir Sok the strongest in Chadra.

“More than anything, even this elf undead was no ordinary thing.”

Azadine watched the icy chill he felt from Dilia.

She stared at Azadine with a gaze full of desire. It was a deeply alluring look, but he couldn’t tell whether she longed for Azadine’s love, or wanted to tear into his flesh and blood.

“Ahh. Young and beautiful one. Hehehe. I could smell the sweet scent of blood all the way to here.”

“When would we arrive?”

“We’re almost there.”

The carriage climbed the hill. Countless trees blocked the way, making it seem impossible to pass, but the moment the fog cleared away, the carriage had already arrived at the front garden of a grand manor.

“Now, this way.”

Smiling, Dilia guided Azadine’s group to Sir Sok.

The entrance of the manor was decorated with various artworks you would only see in the mansion of a great-city noble. Sculptures, paintings, and gilded frames testified to how wealthy the owner of this manor was.

But a bleak black aura swirled around it, and will-o’-the-wisps floated through the air. Their pallid light created an impression that was splendid yet lonely, faded and desolate.

In that entrance hall, the lobby already had attendants lined up. Male and female elves in neat tailcoats stood in formation.

“These are?”

“They were all Sir Sok’s servants.”

Dilia said as if proud. When the butlers and maids opened their eyes, blue will-o’-the-wisps surged within them.

“Wights.”

Including Dilia, the elves here had all become cursed dead—wights. Seeing their faces resembled Sedrin’s, and that they bore similar tattoos, Azadine guessed they were her blood kin.

Now he understood why Sedrin had asked him to subjugate Sir Sok as the price of her loyalty. If her own blood kin had become wights and were being used as servants by Sir Sok, it would be hard not to feel disgusted.

Just then, a bell began ringing from the second floor.

“Our great master, Sir Sok—who had overcome even death—was coming.”

With the bleak bell’s toll, heavy footsteps drew closer.

-Thud!

“A guest was truly rare. Even if the reception was lacking, I ask your understanding.”

Sir Sok appeared—an enormous figure in plate armor. He said that and removed his helmet before Azadine.

He looked like a muscular orc with thick tusks protruding past his lips. His body lacked vitality, and the ghostly fire glimmering in his eyes made it easy to see he was not among the living.

“Orcs and minotaurs… and even undead. With such a diverse group, was that why they opposed me so much when I tried to join?”

Seeing so many unusual members within the Rescue Knights Order, Azadine felt an odd sense of grievance.

“So. You were Sir Azadine. Remarkable. To think you’d come with Sir Selim. And Sir Selim’s head…”

Sir Sok’s gaze shifted to Selim’s head. Selim’s once-imposing horns had both been cut off, leaving ugly scars exposed.

“What business brought you here?”

“Were you Sir Sok? In truth, a request came from Sedrin, the forest keeper of the Black Soil Forest. She asked that you return the bodies of her blood kin.”

“Ah, Sedrin’s request? If it were up to me, I’d like to grant it. However….”

When Sok jerked his chin toward Dilia, Dilia smiled and shook her head.

“As you can see, the parties themselves were against it.”

The elf wights were smiling. Their smiles, as if they were utterly satisfied with their current lives, looked like masks worn over their faces.

Azadine gave a bitter smile at Sir Sok’s nonsense.

Unlike mindless zombies and other undead, wights were twisted monsters that resembled their living selves. The reason they could maintain appearances so close to life was that they periodically drank fresh human blood.

The mere fact that they were wights with faces resembling their living selves meant they had been killing steadily.

“Sedrin also said that these ones were warped by necromancy and couldn’t make proper judgments.”

“If you make such a claim, you should present the grounds for it as well. If someone claimed you were mad, how would you argue that you were of sound mind?”

“Of course, if someone were fine, calling them mad would be rude. But if liquor bottles were strewn about and the stench of alcohol was in the air, wouldn’t questioning their sanity be a reasonable suspicion?”

“Haha. You spoke well. Tell me honestly—Sedrin asked you to subjugate me, didn’t she?”

“Since you kept the corpses of Sedrin’s blood kin at your side, of course. She heard you harmed her kin to obtain their bodies.”

“That was a story full of room for misunderstanding. But I don’t mind if you misunderstand.”

In that instant, the elf servants’ appearances changed completely.

From their neat, beautiful forms that were hardly different from life, they instantly turned into ravenous evil spirits starving for blood. Their teeth jutted out, their tongues turned a vivid red, their eyes bloodshot, and their hands became grotesque, with sharp beastlike claws.

Wights—spirits of the dead starving for the blood and vitality of the living—such was their true nature.