Episode 97

Azadine and Arael were twins born from the same womb.

Arael, who had stolen the Flowers, Birds, Wind, and Moon magic book that should have belonged to Azadine, was born with unprecedentedly strong magical power in the history of the Messenger Clan. In contrast, Azadine was born a deformed child, unable to use any significant magic and without even eyes.

It was exceedingly difficult not to hate a twin who stole the talents that should have been yours at birth. Azadine was no exception, and he resented Arael. Yet, he couldn’t deny one thing.

The charisma and power that dominated everyone.

But even that charisma and power raised questions.

“Is there any justification for cooperating with someone who so recklessly kills people?”

The air was filled with the scent of blood and burning. From the watchtower of this fortress, smoke rising from burning villages could be seen in several directions.

The army of Count Lantarique had already pillaged the surroundings and killed many people. They were undoubtedly scum. Even if there was some tragic backstory, how could Arael join hands with someone committing such unforgivable acts?

“I’ll take charge of defending this place for now. Any objections?”

“Uh, um.”

“We have no objections.”

The soldiers in the watchtower and even the fortress’s guard captain submitted.

Under normal circumstances, they wouldn’t entrust their lives to the dubious Messenger Clan. But in the current situation, the only thing they could trust was this suspicious Messenger.

“Then bring all the arrows inside the fortress and pile them here! Soldiers, withdraw from the parapets!”

Azadine stood alone on the fortress wall. The sound of arrows cutting through the air filled the air as they flew toward him. However, Azadine swung his cloak and deflected the incoming arrows.

The arrows, now devoid of power, piled up on the fortress wall, and one of them landed in Azadine’s hand.

— Thwack!

Azadine shot the arrow back. The arrow flew toward the advancing soldiers, swerving and dipping close to the ground as it struck soldiers carrying the battering ram.

— Thunk!

The arrow’s force was so strong that it pierced through one soldier and then through the next.

“Argh!”

“Wh-what are the shield bearers doing?!”

“Damn it! It came from above, so why does it feel like it’s coming from in front?!”

The soldiers screamed as Azadine fired arrow after arrow.

— Swoosh!

The sound of arrows cutting through the air followed as the entire right column of the battering ram carriers fell. With one side of the carriers gone, the soldiers on the other side dropped the battering ram, some tripping over it and others even getting crushed beneath it.

“Ahhh!”

“D-damn it!”

“This is insane!”

As the battering ram carriers fell, the sergeants grabbed shields and tried to rally the soldiers.

“Shield bearers! Protect the battering ram! Soldiers, lift it back up!”

“…”

But fear was written all over the soldiers’ faces.

Picking up the battering ram would make them the primary target of the concentrated attack. If they wanted to die, they only needed to stick close to the battering ram.

With his arrows, Azadine was making that clear.

“You can block those arrows with shields, can’t—”

— Thwack!

Before the sentence was even finished, the sergeant’s jaw was shattered. An arrow that slipped through the gap in his shield blew his jaw away.

“Ahhhh!”

The sergeant screamed and collapsed, clutching his face.

“Forget the battering ram! Just chop it down with axes!”

“Grab shields and axes!”

The soldiers raised their shields over their heads and ran toward the fortress. However, this time, arrows flew from the fortress windows.

These arrows, shot by Ismail and Mediam, were infused with the Messenger Clan’s magic, allowing them to move far more freely and strike the incoming soldiers mercilessly.

“What are our archers doing? Fire back!”

The archers of Lantarique shot arrows at the fortress and its windows, but Azadine caught some of the incoming arrows, nocked them to his own bow, and fired them back.

— Thunk!

Another soldier fell. Watching him blatantly catch and reuse their arrows demoralized the archers further.

“Th-that…!”

“If we keep shooting, aren’t we just supplying him with arrows?”

“I-I can’t go!”

“Are you idiots? He’s just one man, and we can’t even get close to the gate?”

But in this brief skirmish, around ten soldiers had already fallen.

Five dead, five injured.

Although it wasn’t many in number, those ten accounted for five percent of Count Lantarique’s assembled forces here. Losing that many lives in such a short time was devastating for morale. The soldiers’ spirits plummeted to rock bottom.

“Is this the Messenger Clan?”

“They’re truly terrifying monsters!”

The soldiers could only pray to their gods that the next arrow would not be aimed at them.

“What are the Messenger Clan doing?!”

Count Garnahaer of Lantarique was furious at the Messenger Clan for their inaction in this situation.

“We are shooting as well, but…”

“Shooting at the fortress walls is a waste. That one is part of our clan too, so if an arrow doesn’t carry enough force, he’ll just catch it and shoot it back.”

“All we’d do by shooting from here is supply him with arrows.”

The Messenger Clan on Count Lantarique’s side also fired arrows at the fortress walls, but either because of the difference in elevation or the loss of force, the arrows caused little damage.

Of course, the situation would change if the arrows were imbued with magic, but the Messenger Clan serving Count Lantarique were not loyal to him. Their alliance was merely a loose one, formed for mutual benefit.

“That’s why I recommended attacking after sunset. If time was of the essence and we had to assault the fortress in broad daylight, I suggested sending all forces in at once to finish it quickly.”

When Nefti spoke, Count Lantarique fell silent.

Nefti’s advice had been accurate. However, Count Lantarique had ignored it, arrogantly boasting that a simple fortress like this could be taken down easily. He had sent the battering ram troops forward alone, thinking it a waste to send all his forces to chop down the gates of such a small fortress.

This was the result. The morale of his soldiers plummeted, and they had reached the culmination point of their offensive without achieving anything. Nefti was subtly blaming him for this outcome.

“Daring to criticize me?”

As a high-ranking noble, Garnahaer was unaccustomed to criticism. However, the undeniable strength of the Messenger Clan meant he couldn’t act rashly against them.

“That one shoots remarkably well. A single man is doing the work of ten archers. How many arrows can the Messenger possibly shoot?”

“About a thousand arrows per day.”

“A thousand? With such a strong bow?”

Even seasoned archers using Ashwood longbows would be utterly exhausted, drooling from their mouths, after firing just a hundred arrows in a day. A thousand arrows? Surely it was an exaggeration. But if true, no matter how many troops he threw at them, it would be impossible to succeed without siege engines. And this wasn’t even a proper fortress—just a small guard outpost.

“It makes sense now why he confidently negotiated terms to open the gates.”

Garnahaer couldn’t deny that he had made a mistake.

“For now, let’s wait until nightfall. At that time, our clan will infiltrate the fortress directly and resolve this.”

“Infiltrate?”

“Such fortress walls are as easy to climb as flat ground for us.”

“Hmm. Very well. Withdraw the soldiers. There’s no point in continuing this assault and wasting more troops.”

If exhaustion set in after firing fifty arrows or so, sending more troops might break the fortress eventually. But if they could shoot a thousand arrows without tiring, a frontal assault was meaningless.

“Then may we also withdraw and rest? We’ll need our strength to act at night.”

“Fine, do that.”

Though visibly displeased, Count Lantarique allowed them to rest and ordered the troops to retreat.

A young man of the Messenger Clan, Yarabin, was Nefti’s servant. While he had given up on becoming a formal attendant, he worked independently under Nefti, engaging in commerce and intelligence gathering, dissatisfied with the structure of the Messenger Clan.

Yarabin had the skills to qualify as a formal attendant, but he had no choice but to become a servant to support his impoverished family. Without earnings from trade, his siblings and ailing parents would starve to death.

Nevertheless, Yarabin was a talented individual who could use a Two-Stringed Bow and used the magic book Flowers, Birds, Wind, and Moon. He considered himself comparable to any lower-tier Messenger and had the skills to back it up.

This was why he was overjoyed when Arael vowed to overturn the existing order of the Messenger Clan and create a new structure.

Yarabin wasn’t alone. The Messengers under Nefti’s command were all dissatisfied with the old system, which was why they had gathered under Arael’s banner.

“Ha, that pompous Count got what he deserved.”

Yarabin rejoiced at the humiliation of Count Lantarique. While he didn’t particularly like Azadine, they were both of Aragasa descent. Seeing the Hubris nobles, who always looked down on Azadine, embarrassed brought him joy. The Aragasa people harbored deep resentment toward the Hubris nobles.

“Don’t overdo it. He’s still a client.”

Nefti calmed Yarabin and stood up. Her lithe form, like a sleek black panther, caught the faint glow of the moonlight.

She was strong and charismatic. Gaining the 75th rank at such a young age without any significant backing was no mere stroke of luck.

“Well then, shall we climb that fortress? Be careful, everyone. Azadine is no pushover. I’ve faced him myself—he’s quite skilled.”

“But isn’t he injured?”

“I wouldn’t trust that. It could be a ruse. Be cautious. The Kazas Grimoire is said to specialize in killing.”

Even Nefti didn’t fully understand what the Kazas Grimoire entailed. She only knew that Elder Kazas, despite not being of Aragasa descent and thus lacking an inherent connection to the Flowers, Birds, Wind, and Moon magic book, had mastered it through his own methods. His techniques were said to be lethal and destructive.

If Azadine had mastered those techniques, underestimating him would be a fatal mistake. Especially since they were about to scale the fortress walls.

“Support team, prepare your arrows at the base. Assault team, let’s choose who will climb. Who’s going up?”

“I’ll go.”

Yarabin volunteered.

“I’ll stay below.”

Kahsan, who had been injured by Azadine, declared that he would stay below and provide support with his bow.

“Alright, Yarabin, you and I will climb. Kahsan, Nema, and Kodanus, you’ll provide cover fire from below. Scout team, report?”

Nema, one of the attendants, used a reconnaissance spell to survey the area around the fortress from above.

“There are no lights on the fortress walls. The sentries are hiding behind the parapets, watching below.”

“Watching below? They were anticipating this.”

Nefti deduced from the sentries’ positioning that Azadine was expecting a night raid and, specifically, that Messengers might scale the walls.

“Could it be a trap? Should we avoid it?”

“No. We’ve mocked the Count enough; retreating now would push his patience to the limit. Let’s break through.”

“Even if it’s a trap?”

“We can handle it, can’t we?”

Nefti smiled confidently.