Chapter 40

“…Is this thing alive?”

Benjamin asked, uneasy.

He had traveled with the trading company and had seen enough to be unfazed by most things, but this was an exception.

Fwoosh

Blue flames seared the bleeding parts and mended the broken bones.

Hamel was reviving the fox whose half-body had been crushed into a gruesome shape.

“Ah… yes. For now, it seems so.”

Hamel nodded drowsily as he answered.

The Maron’s Laughing Fox, who would have died if left alone, was gradually recovering.

Just in case, its limbs were all tightly bound.

Watching that, it finally hit him.

The battle was over.

And its outcome had ended in a direction no one had expected.

‘They actually won.’

Benjamin swept back his disheveled white hair and gave a hollow laugh.

He had thought it a miracle if even one survived.

But Hamel shattered his expectations.

He had overwhelmingly defeated the opponent instead.

‘Whatever I imagined, he’s beyond it.’

His character, values, and even his abilities.

He was stranger and superior to any ruler Benjamin had seen.

‘…I’m getting greedy.’

Ambitions Benjamin thought had waned with age suddenly began to stir.

He had become one of the caravan masters of the Lorenz company and thought he’d fulfilled his dream.

But watching Hamel kept giving him other ideas.

What if he built a trading company under his banner and under his dominion?

All merchants dream of one day forming their own caravan and becoming its master.

‘It’s a bit early… but I should think about it.’

While Benjamin adjusted his monocle and muttered, Arandel was on one side conversing with Tarka’s voice.

“You’re alive, Tarka.”

[Yes. As long as you worship me, I will not perish. That is the nature of a god.]

Gods are powerful.

And immortal; they do not die.

That is their chief difference from mortal humans.

However, they too can lose power and fade away.

That happens when no one remembers or worships them.

Of course, gods that existed since the ancient times before humans are different.

But even they gain strength from human praise and belief.

Just as Arandel felt relief, Tarka suddenly spoke, harshly.

[Leave this place. Arandel.]

“What? What do you mean? How could I abandon this forest…”

[As the priest of Ehuurshika said, this forest is dangerous now.]

Arandel hesitated.

He didn’t not know that.

This incident alone had been an overt provocation by the lord of Sorn.

They had even prepared for war when Tarka’s death was thought to be confirmed.

But now that their god’s survival was confirmed, Arandel didn’t know what to do.

“If we leave, what will the god do?”

[You are also part of this forest. If you can transplant yourselves elsewhere like saplings, I have no objection; do not worry.]

Tarka soothed Arandel in a composed tone.

After some thought, Arandel nodded.

“I will follow, my god.”

[Hmph. A wise decision.]

Tarka’s contented rumbling voice faded gradually.

[My stored divine power is dwindling. Gather the saplings in the clearing and plant them in a new forest. If the saplings take root and enough time passes, I will return.]

“Yes. I will do so.”

Hearing Arandel’s reply, Tarka chuckled and murmured softly.

[Your answer is satisfying. You’ve… worked hard so… well.]

With that, Tarka’s voice was heard no more.

After a moment of silence, Arandel vowed in a resolute voice.

“…I will wait, no matter how long.”

Then a wind blew from somewhere and the forest hummed and made a sound.

It sounded like the god’s answer of promise, and Arandel let out a broad laugh.

“Then have you made up your mind?”

“Yes, I have decided.”

At Hamel’s question, who had been quietly listening to the two, Arandel turned his body.

Then he knelt before Hamel.

“I, Arandel, guardian of the Rosel Forest and chieftain of the Blue Mane clan, have a request of Hamel Saint Gilmore, the lord of Haidern and head of the Gilmore family.”

Hamel straightened his posture, sat up, and nodded at those words.

“Speak.”

“Give my clan and me the chance to serve you. If you protect and care for us, we will swear fealty to you with our lives.”

Hamel was not bound by formality.

He simply stepped forward and took Arandel’s bowed hand.

“Yes. The contract is sealed here and now.”

Those simple but sincere words moved Arandel.

In these days when even promises with the first emperor are forgotten and dimmed.

He did not believe the promise with Hamel would last forever.

But nothing in the world is perfect.

He would simply trust the man and follow where he was drawn.

At that moment, a rusted-iron-like laugh came from the side.

“Heh, ugh, heh. Do you think you can get away here?”

Hamel and Arandel frowned and turned their heads.

There, the Maron’s Laughing Fox had come to its senses and twisted its mouth into a grin.

Hamel looked at it and felt relieved.

“Good. I’m glad you’ve come to your senses.”

“Why did you heal me? Surely you don’t intend to extract a confession?”

“Well, I do, actually.”

At Hamel’s nod to the Fox’s question, it burst into laughter.

Then it abruptly stopped laughing and veins stood out on its forehead.

“Do you think I’ll talk? You underestimate the Pale Rope too much.”

Benjamin, listening nearby, added with a sour look.

“He’s right. Hamel, extracting a confession from him is impossible.”

“Why is that?”

“It’s the Pale String’s code. If you reveal the details of a contract, you suffer a punishment worse than death.”

The Fox chuckled at the explanation and opened its mouth.

“You old gentleman know us well. I won’t open my mouth no matter what. And the lord of Sorn will find a way to seize on this and kill you all.”

The Fox laughed weakly, unconcerned for its own life.

Despite being overwhelmingly defeated by Hamel, it showed no fear toward him.

“Hm.”

Hamel clicked his tongue softly and then spoke.

“Mr. Benjamin. I’ve been offered to transfer to the heresy inquisitors several times. Do you know why?”

“…?”

“Because my abilities… are useful for extracting confessions.”

Hamel walked calmly toward the fox with a tired expression.

“Please, finish this quickly.”

“Ha ha, do you think you’ll flay my skin? A dandy like you?”

The fox still wore a smug smile.

Hamel said nothing.

“My lord, it’s a catastrophe!”

“What commotion is this?”

Viscount Ramsey, the lord of Sorn, asked, wiping his grease-stained hands after tearing meat.

The steward hurriedly blurted out the situation.

“Baron Hamel, who headed to the Rosel Forest, is returning!”

“What? No. What’s that Maron’s Laughing Fox doing…”

“That’s not all. The Lorenz company and the entire Blue Mane clan are heading for Sorn!”

“What!!”

The viscount slammed the desk loudly and sprang to his feet.

He couldn’t catch up with the completely unexpected situation.

Why was Hamel alive?

What had happened to the Laughing Fox of Maron?

Why was the Blue Mane clan coming along?

He had no idea.

But Viscount Ramsey quickly composed his thoughts.

“Steward. Summon the army.”

“…Yes?”

“Whatever it is, things have gone awry. At this point we must overturn the board.”

In any case, there was evidence they were marching armed toward his territory.

Framing them for a crime and dealing with them was the most pragmatic option.

Of course, massacring them on mere circumstantial evidence would raise suspicions.

But what did that matter?

The dead do not speak.

The steward left to muster the troops and the viscount donned his armor.

Although not perfect, the domain’s military strength was formidable.

They had been preparing for war, so they had many mercenaries and respectable levied soldiers.

Above all, their equipment was superior.

Even the levied men were supplied with helmets, armor, and straight, sturdy spears.

The viscount thought this could compare to the imperial regulars.

“Shall we go?”

Just as he grinned and opened the door.

“Ah, Viscount Ramsey.”

“…Sir Conrad, is that you?”

Conrad, the royal envoy sent as a mediator, stood before the viscount’s door as if waiting.

The viscount asked with a sullen expression.

“What brings you here?”

“It seems something has happened; may I come along?”

“It’s not something you need to concern yourself with…”

“How could I not be concerned when Baron Hamel and Viscount Ramsey are involved?”

At Conrad’s words, Viscount Ramsey’s expression hardened for a moment.

‘Damn. How much does he know?’

Even he hesitated to make a move against an envoy from the crown.

Of course, if necessary he’d silence him by killing him…

After a moment’s thought, Ramsey nodded and said.

“Come to think of it, that seems likely. It appears Baron Hamel broke his promise and allied with criminals.”

“Is that so? That’s serious.”

Conrad nodded with a grave expression.

Only then did the viscount relax his face, place a hand on Conrad’s shoulder, and say.

“Let’s go together. With you by my side, I’ll feel secure.”

“It’s an honor.”

The viscount stepped out into the courtyard of his manor.

There, hundreds of troops, already prepared, were lined up.

The banner symbolizing his house fluttered.

Seeing them calmed him.

The viscount had no intention of losing.

Sorn’s gates were tightly shut.

Archers stood on the walls, and cavalry and infantry packed the area before the gate.

At the front, alongside riders bearing the viscount’s banner, Viscount Ramsey himself rode out.

After some time passed like that.

The familiar procession appeared along the eastern road connected to the Rosel Forest.

Dozens of wagons and hundreds of people.

The armed number didn’t seem to reach fifty, but that hardly mattered.

Once they were crushed, it would be clear whether they were civilians or armed men.

Viscount Ramsey slowly guided his horse with the riders.

Conrad followed silently behind Ramsey.

A familiar face at the very front of the procession caught his eye.

Hamel Gilmore.

He was the lord of Haidern and a priest of the order — a fool.

Wanting to start the war at once, Viscount Ramsey shouted abruptly.

“What in God’s name is this?”

“It’s been a while, my lord.”

“Save your greetings! Answer me: for what purpose did you lead those invaders here?”

Ramsey shouted, already treating Hamel and his force as invaders.

It didn’t matter whether they denied it or not.

Soon the mercenaries he’d hired through the steward would start shooting arrows at them.

Then any further talk would be useless.

They would simply wipe them out.

“…?”

But for some reason.

Arrows did not come raining down.

When the lord signaled the steward, the steward merely shook his head, bewildered.

Then Hamel spoke.

“By invaders, do you mean these people?”

At his words, a dozen men were dragged out, bound in a row.

Armed with bows and spears, they awkwardly imitated Blue Mane clan attire with rags and sticks.

“…!”

The steward’s face went pale as he inspected their faces.

Viscount Ramsey immediately realized the situation had turned.

‘We were deceived.’

The mercenaries he had hired were captured by them.

While the viscount was flustered, Hamel continued speaking.

“Those bandits were hiding armed along the road. Arandel, the chieftain of the Blue Mane clan, captured them personally.”

At Hamel’s introduction, the old man who appeared slowly bowed his head.

“….”

That old man caught dozens of mercenaries?

No, that’s not the important part now.

Ramsey barely held himself together and barked, scowling.

“I don’t care who those are; I’m talking about the armed force behind you.”

“Ah, do you mean the Blue Mane clan?”

Hamel nodded and replied.

“If that’s what you mean, you needn’t worry. The clan and I are here for rightful vengeance.”

“…Vengeance?”

“Yes. The client who commissioned the assassination of our people is here.”

Hamel calmly drew his sword and faced the viscount.