Internal Crackdown (1)

“Why were you making that face? Tell me, Captain. You always make sudden decisions alone without telling anyone.”

“My apologies.”

“If you know that, then tell me. What are you planning by building a bridgehead at the Southeast Rock Wall?”

“Trade. I want to create a better living environment for the people here. And for the others we’ll be dealing with as well.”

“Hm. I probably shouldn’t say this, but the people here are criminals. Do you really think they deserve a better life? Take Chashan alone — he’s killed countless people or turned them into wrecks selling drugs. You’re making a better path for people who might not even deserve to live.”

“Of course, when the time for judgment comes, I will judge them. But until then, I don’t want to hate them or make them suffer. I want to believe mercy has meaning. Otherwise the world is too cruel.”

Only then did Camilla realize Azadine hadn’t merely wandered the pleasure district aimlessly.

“Can I help?”

“Just talking like this already helped a lot, Camilla.”

Azadine was lonely. Within his clan he had been an outcast, and those who showed him affection were only Aldis and Kazas — or the pity and consideration of older members.

Even so, he had preserved his love through the Rescue Knights Order’s teachings — loving virtue itself.

But comfort between people wasn’t like that.

Even if the other person wasn’t a sage or a virtuous individual, simply speaking what lay in one’s heart and having someone listen brought comfort like this…

Azadine hadn’t known that. With his mouth he called humans beautiful, yet in his heart he never understood why they were.

‘So many people — even Holy Knights — cannot hold faith. I wasn’t in a position to be disappointed in them.’

Azadine realized anew how endlessly ignorant he was in human relationships.

“Thank you, Camilla. You’re beautiful.”

He said it without thinking.

“…….”

Camilla was flustered by the sudden remark.

“This is awkward. I came with my younger brother, and you’re staring so passionately.”

“…Noona.”

“Ah — no, Kuntachi, it’s fine. It’s nothing.”

“No, that’s not it. Look over there!”

“Hm?”

Azadine was staring beside her — into an alley.

A beggar who had been begging in Fireglyph’s streets staggered forward.

Drunk?

No — a drunk man’s will is hindered by alcohol. But this man looked wrung by pain itself.

His twisted expression looked as if his muscles would tear his skin apart, and his contorted body made onlookers feel agony as well.

“Ah… Aaaah!”

He clawed his head as blood flowed from his eyes.

Amazingly, each drop froze upon hitting the ground, growing like stalagmites.

“What?!”

Azadine jumped up and ran toward him but couldn’t approach.

Blood and ice pouring from the beggar’s body began covering the alley.

And cold mana burst from him.

“What is this?”

“It’s Elemental Wailing! But….”

Camilla broke into a cold sweat.

Normally, once Elemental Wailing manifested, there was a grace period before detonation.

That was why victims were treated not as weapons but as assets — magic stones were harvested until just before they exploded.

“This disease shouldn’t activate and erupt this fast!”

Common sense overturned. Something abnormal was happening there.

The Messenger Clan — the Emperor’s Messengers — were blades forged to cut down kings and nobles.

Meaning they required enough knowledge to understand the political consequences of those deaths.

Aragasa were born with excellent synesthesia and physical strength.

Azadine was an exception.

By age ten they could string adult bows and split one arrow with another.

Azadine was an exception.

But knowledge and experience had to be hammered in through education, so the clan trained children through unique methods.

If a child not of the Five Families lacked learning, they were beaten or starved.

If of the Five Families, mages cast enhancement and concentration spells to rapidly instill knowledge.

Azadine was an exception.

Not born to the Five Families but noticed by Elder Kazas, he received equal benefits.

Including the “benefits” given to outsiders.

If results didn’t appear under enhancement magic — corporal punishment followed.

‘Talent doesn’t matter. Hammer it in and it works. Those who can’t endure die.’

Kazas’s doctrine.

Yet even with such knowledge and experience, some problems couldn’t be solved.

Deduction ultimately meant guessing.

Guessing without material became prejudice.

For a Messenger risking his life — for anyone living in Hubris — prejudice could become lethal poison.

Without evidence, gather information instead of jumping to conclusions.

But the Order couldn’t be trusted.

He’d gained fame subduing the Five Ogres of Chadra (setting aside Sir Sok), yet Chadra was merely the Order’s covered pot lid — an exile dumping ground.

And he was only a trainee knight.

A Messenger-born knight would never receive core intelligence.

However — there existed an excellent informant here.

“So you broke into a lady’s bedroom at night?”

The woman lit a lamp irritably.

Around her, guards and doppelgangers lay unconscious.

“…Doppelgangers revert when knocked out. Didn’t know that. And with guards and doppelgangers present, calling it a lone lady’s bedroom feels inaccurate.”

Azadine stood inside the bedroom of Dilia, Fireglyph branch chief of the Van Dyke Trading Company.

“You lack common sense, Azadine. By your logic I’m a woman sleeping with guards and doppelgangers — suddenly I’m promiscuous.”

“…Self-perception depends on attitude. But in my opinion, Dilia, you don’t seem promiscuous.”

“Stop the nonsense. Why are you here this time?”

“I need clan information. They know already, right?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t pretend. World information — Korasar, Vthuma, Tarasar.”

The Messenger Clan possessed the artificial spirit called the Emperor’s Voice.

It attached to Messengers, spoke, controlled animals to scout, and provided conveniences.

It also governed the Emperor’s gold coin contract.

This allowed rapid information transfer across Hubris.

The clan used it to buy grain before droughts, medicine before plagues, tents before fires — earning enormous profit.

And aiding their grand objective.

“The Emperor’s Voice is gone. We rely on letters and couriers now.”

“Don’t treat me like a fool. When the Senate prepared to betray the Emperor, they prepared for that. The Van Dyke Company running smoothly proves it.”

Azadine hadn’t deduced brilliantly — the company was simply too smooth.

Normally chaos should follow his disruption, yet operations continued normally.

‘They have a replacement communication method.’

Too obvious.

“Even if true — why help you, a clan traitor? You’re expelled. You’re no longer Aragasa.”

“The Senate may hate me. You too. But regardless — you need me.”

“What…?”

“Sir Ject was appointed Guard Master of the Fire Guards. Understand? To survive in Fireglyph, you’ll need my help.”

“Threatening me? Sell my identity to the Church?”

“Not my intent — but interpret it that way if you want. My warning is beyond the Church.”

“What do you mean?”

“My question is the answer. You already know.”

Azadine sensed ominous events worldwide.

Ject humbling himself here meant something enormous was happening.

“Damn clan traitor….”

Dilia ground her teeth — but he was right.

The reason the King’s Church lowered its pride terrified her.