Arael Tribe (3)

“Mediam!”

Ismail grabbed the flagpole and flung himself over the wall to catch Mediam as she fell.

“Argh!?”

“Gah!”

When Ismail and Mediam clasped hands, they both winced in pain. Kahsan had thrown her with such force that it felt like their arms might come out of their sockets.

“Ugh! No, this isn’t good!”

Unable to hold Mediam’s weight due to the pain in his arm, Ismail had no choice but to retreat back to the wall, even though Kahsan was waiting there. Kahsan greeted them with a smirk, wrapping his massive arms around both their necks and slamming them to the ground.

“Guh!”

“Eek!”

Ismail and Mediam collapsed onto the floor.

“Ha ha, impressive. For Azadine’s servants, you’re quite skilled. As expected from the Ethar Clan. If you were adults, you might have beaten me. But for now, you’re too young.”

Kahsan subdued Ismail and Mediam with ease, shrugging as he looked down at them.

“What a waste to leave you under someone like Azadine. How about becoming my servants instead?”

Just then, a quiet laugh echoed from behind Kahsan.

“Talking about stealing someone’s servants after ambushing them? That’s rich.”

“Hm?”

Kahsan turned to see another Messenger—Azadine—standing atop the fortress. He was startled.

“Azadine!”

“Sorry about that. I’ve been watching.”

“…!”

If what Azadine said was true, then he had calmly observed the battle between Kahsan, Mediam, and Ismail.

But Kahsan hadn’t even noticed Azadine’s approach. What if Azadine had launched an ambush instead?

‘Though it’s just bravado.’

Azadine had indeed been watching, but only after he climbed into the fortress. He hadn’t remained idle to observe Kahsan’s skills intentionally. He couldn’t just stand by as Mediam and Ismail were thrown out of the fortress.

“Sigh.”

Standing beside Azadine was a knight. Still a Holy Knight, he had used his status to pass through Count Lantarique’s forces and entered the fortress as a negotiator.

“Azadine, it’s been a long time. I remember you as a little kid, but you’ve grown a lot.”

“Pardon me, but who are you?”

“Kahsan. Two classes above you! Surely you haven’t forgotten? Kahsan the Bowbreaker!”

“The one who cried after Arael beat him?”

“You bastard, mocking me like that!”

Kahsan seethed with anger but quickly composed himself.

“More importantly, who’s that beside you? Looks like a Holy Knight of the King’s Church.”

“You seem to have plenty of bows. Mind lending me one?”

Azadine’s attention was on the four bows strapped to Kahsan’s legs. His own bow was broken, and Kahsan’s collection seemed like a convenient solution.

“Answer my question first. What are you doing, Azadine? I’m two classes your senior. Do you think you can mock me?”

“Well, it is a little funny. You mercilessly ambushed children, after all.”

“You brat.”

“Why did you align yourself with Lantarique? I wasn’t informed of that. What terms did you agree to?”

“You answer first. I’m not continuing this conversation until you do!”

Kahsan wasn’t foolish. As a Messenger, he was trained not only in martial arts but also in strategy and tactics.

Azadine knew he couldn’t keep playing games.

“This man is an ally helping me expose Sir Ject’s corruption.”

“For what price? Gold coins?”

“No, justice.”

“Justice?”

“The true mission of the Emperor’s Messengers: to hear the pleas of the oppressed and bring justice to this land.”

“Ha… hahaha. You’ve gone mad, Azadine. Spouting such embarrassing nonsense without hesitation.”

“The one who should be ashamed is you, not me. I carry out the Emperor’s mission with honor. But you? You’re nothing more than a dog on a leash, doing this because you’re told to. Isn’t that a pitiful way to live?”

“Don’t make me laugh! I do this by my own will. Do you think I could pass the grueling selection process otherwise?”

“Even so, without any aesthetic or purpose, it’s just selfish greed. Even a hunting dog works hard for a bone.”

“Ugh. You sure talk a lot.”

Kahsan stretched his neck and flexed his fingers, chuckling.

“As expected, Lady Arael told me to bring you back alive, but I don’t want to. Seeing a disgrace like you holding a position just because you’re Arael’s brother makes me sick. I’ll kill you here and now.”

“Ah, so you’re with Arael.”

Hearing this, Azadine rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. Zebec stepped in front of him, blocking his way.

“You can’t fight in your current condition.”

Having treated Azadine earlier, Zebec knew Azadine’s body was far from combat-ready. While his wounds had been stitched, reopening them in a fight could be catastrophic. In this era, even a minor wound could lead to fatal infections.

“What’s this? You’re sending a Holy Knight in your place? How did you even convince one to join you?”

Kahsan looked at Zebec in disbelief, astonished that a Holy Knight would fight on Azadine’s behalf.

“When you stand for noble ideals, you naturally gain allies who share your cause. I’m not sure if a dog wagging its tail for scraps can understand such camaraderie.”

“You little…! I follow Lady Arael’s will—”

At that moment, Azadine made his move.

Kahsan was surprised by Azadine’s sudden attack, but as he watched Azadine’s movements, he scoffed. They were too clumsy, too slow, and too weak.

‘So he really is the disgrace of the Messenger Clan. With such pitiful skills…’

Kahsan didn’t even bother drawing his sword. Instead, he prepared to deflect Azadine’s blade with his hand. But in the next moment, Azadine released his sword and grabbed Kahsan’s wrist.

“…What?”

Kahsan was taken aback by the sudden precision and immense strength in Azadine’s movements. Above all, the moment of contact unleashed a torrent of magical energy from Azadine that coursed through Kahsan’s body.

Azadine calmly stepped to Kahsan’s side, lifted the massive man effortlessly, and hurled him out of the fortress.

“Wha—ahhh!”

Kahsan tried to grab the flagpole, as Ismail had done, but Azadine drew a dagger from his belt and hurled it toward him with such force that it seemed capable of piercing a bull’s skull.

“Gah!”

Kahsan had no choice but to let go of the flagpole and fell below the fortress wall.

“Just you wait!”

Using the Flowers, Birds, Wind, and Moon spell, Kahsan slowed his fall and rolled upon landing to absorb the impact. However, judging by his inability to stand properly after the roll, it was clear he hadn’t escaped unscathed.

“Ismail, fire.”

“Yes!”

Ismail loosed an arrow, prompting Kahsan to curse and flee while dodging the shot.

“Wow, amazing, Azadine!”

Mediam ran toward Azadine with joy, but she noticed that he was sweating profusely.

“…Huh?”

“I told you not to push yourself! Using so much strength with broken ribs—what were you thinking?”

Sir Zebec clicked his tongue as he watched the overexerted Azadine. In Hubris, even a minor fall could lead to lingering illness or death. Broken bones combined with external wounds often led to fatal infections.

“Everyone in the Messenger Clan underestimates me, so I can win easily the first time.”

“Your entire clan underestimates you? That’s hard to believe. Didn’t you fight Sir Ject on even terms? I doubt many in the Messenger Clan could accomplish such a feat.”

“I was a bit of a mess as a child. Most of them only remember me like that, so they still look down on me. In this case, it worked out—I managed to secure some bows quickly.”

Azadine held two Moon Horn Bows in his hands. He had taken them from Kahsan’s thigh while throwing him.

“But they won’t fall for it again. Speaking of which…”

Azadine turned his attention to the fortress commander.

“Huh? You mean me?”

The commander, feeling Azadine’s gaze, flinched in surprise.

“We need to talk.”

Azadine gestured for the commander to follow him into the soldiers’ barracks, seemingly to ensure privacy.

“Let’s cut to the chase—surrender the fortress and negotiate peace.”

“What? If we do that, Count Salasma will have us skinned alive!”

“Count Salasma is already dead. There’s no one left to punish you.”

“Still, what about the next person to inherit Salasma? Won’t they seek retribution?”

“Hmm. It seems you Hubris folk know even less than I do. Think about it. Why do you think Count Lantarique suddenly launched this invasion?”

“Well, I…”

“It’s because Count Salasma’s legitimate heir lost their ability to produce offspring and thus forfeited their inheritance rights. Count Lantarique arranged a political marriage for his daughter, only to see the Salasma inheritance slip through her fingers. Now, he’s staging a military demonstration. Ideally, he hopes to secure the inheritance for his daughter. At the very least, he wants to seize the Kora River area. Even if someone else becomes the next Count of Salasma, controlling this area will give him a political advantage.”

Sir Zebec, listening in, couldn’t help but admire Azadine.

‘Impressive. His political insight is remarkable. Even Holy Knights these days don’t bother learning the Laws of the Eight Kingdoms. Is it because he’s the Emperor’s Messenger?’

“So, if we surrender the fortress to Count Lantarique, what happens to us? Wouldn’t the next Count of Salasma still come after us?”

“Release the civilians and join Count Lantarique. That way, there will be less bloodshed. Right now, Count Lantarique is massacring the locals to erase this region’s identity and replace it with his own people. This ensures even the King’s Church recognizes the area as his territory. But if the local knights and officers surrender, there would be no need for such drastic measures. He could claim the land legitimately.”

“You’re asking us to switch allegiances?”

The fortress commander, clearly a knight, hesitated at the suggestion. Changing loyalties would leave a lasting stain on his family’s honor.

“Count Lantarique will likely treat you well. Taking on a little dishonor to save the civilians—that’s the kind of thing a true hero would do, isn’t it? Sure, the nobles might criticize you, but the local people will see your actions as noble. I could even write a song about it. A ballad of a knight who bore dishonor to save his people? Sounds like a popular tune.”

“This is the only way for you to survive. Do you really think the dead Count Salasma will rise to save you?”

Ismail added.

“Well… It’s true that if we keep fighting, we’ll only wither away. Surrendering under these terms might actually be the honorable thing to do.”

It seemed Azadine’s words had swayed the fortress commander.

“Yes, surrendering the fortress before it falls is the honorable thing to do! We’re saved!”

The soldiers looked visibly relieved.

‘Will it really go that smoothly?’

Mediam recalled Count Lantarique’s brutal methods and remained skeptical.

‘Oh well. Let them enjoy their moment of relief.’

Suddenly, a horn sounded from outside the fortress. A booming voice echoed, accompanied by a chorus of soldiers.

“I am Count Garnahaer of Lantarique! Messenger Clan, come out and negotiate!”

Count Garnahaer himself was requesting a negotiation.