Chapter 63
The meeting had ended.
The nobles departed, and even Ash had left his seat. Count Hallum, now alone, looked around the room with a smile.
Before he knew it, night had fallen. The only light reflected in the window was the moon, and the only thing illuminating the room was the candle sitting before Count Hallum.
Only after confirming that no one else was there did Count Hallum finally contort his face.
“You bastard! Trash of a prince! All those troops…!”
He wanted to wring the prince’s neck then and there. But a prince was still a prince, and furthermore, a central figure in Eastern Lonia.
His humanity was complete garbage, but his status still held enough value to be exploited.
In fact, he was first in line for the throne, and his support overwhelmed that of his younger brother, Eron, by a massive margin.
Should anything happen to the current king, Elon Lonia, it would be Prince Ash who automatically ascended to the throne.
That was the reason Count Hallum had thrown his lot in with Ash… but now it had become a completely bad move.
“Still, Prince Ash has brought me some proper fellows. Lately, I haven’t been able to hire any Nords….”
Count Hallum knew all too well how strong the Nord tribe was.
If they took the vanguard, he would seize victory in no time.
“Though, recruitment, he says….”
It was then, as Count Hallum was stroking his beard, that the window to the command room slid open, and a group of black-clad figures slipped inside.
Masked and dressed in black leather, even the skin visible between the gaps of their masks was covered in black. At their waists were hatchets, daggers, small crossbows, hooks, and ropes.
They were optimized for melting into the darkness.
They were the continent’s greatest assassination group and information brokers, those called the Dark World.
“You’ve come?”
Count Hallum interlaced his fingers and glanced at them.
The assassins of the Dark World bowed their heads upon seeing him.
“The request….”
“There is something you must do.”
Count Hallum looked at the flickering candle before him.
“Eliminate the chieftain of the Nord tribe that entered the city.”
Count Hallum had no intention of ‘hiring’ the Nord tribe. He intended to use them merely as ‘slave soldiers.’
As shields and swords on the front lines.
If he eliminated the chieftain and crushed them with military might, they would have no choice but to follow.
That was what Count Hallum believed.
“…Is there nothing else?”
Count Hallum fell into thought for a moment before continuing.
“Come to think of it… do you know anything about a country called Asgard?”
“…Nothing is known.”
“They say it lies in the frozen land.”
“Recently, the whereabouts of the Nords on the continent have grown uncertain, so we sent people to the frozen land… but none have returned.”
“Does that mean they are dead?”
“Either that, or they have been captured. But there will be no information leak. If they are discovered or captured, they are to take their own lives.”
“Can you gather information?”
“It is difficult at present. If we have been discovered, their vigilance will be strict.”
“Hmm… I see.”
“We will need more time to find out.”
“A pity. Regardless, I leave it to you. Do you need supporting troops?”
“We do not need them. No matter how strong they may be, if they are drunk and asleep, they will be vulnerable to a surprise attack.”
“If you fail to capture the chieftain…?”
“…Then we will kill them all.”
Leave no loose ends. That was the Dark World’s way.
Above all, even if they were Nords specialized in combat, if they had fallen asleep in a drunken state, it was the optimal condition for an assassination.
They could silently suppress them by plunging blades into their hearts before they even sensed a presence.
“Yes. I’m counting on you.”
The assassins bowed their heads and quietly exited through the window.
At the sight, Count Hallum shook his head.
“They could have used the door… anyway, if things go wrong….”
The Count looked at the candle once more.
“I shall have to eliminate them all. Leaving no loose ends.”
Count Hallum blew out the candle.
***
It was a dark night. The soldiers guarding the castle gate yawned with drowsiness.
Overwhelmed by fatigue and hunger, they could barely remain standing. They leaned against their spears and began to doze off.
‘When will this damned war end? I’m hungry… When will I recover from this illness… I heard some guy died of a cold… Am I going to end up like that too?’
The soldier was seized by anxiety.
He wanted to rest with all his heart. But even that was not permitted.
His body was sluggish and heavy. His entire body stung as if pricked by needles, yet his muscles were stiff as if knotted. Moreover, his nose and throat made it difficult to breathe, as if something were lodged inside.
His mind grew so hazy that even standing was difficult.
The soldier looked ahead with blurred vision.
“…What…?”
A group was approaching.
A procession.
Refugees?
They were not refugees.
Their attire was far too unfamiliar for refugees.
Clothing split between black and white.
They held torches, wore swords at their waists, and covered their faces with veils and masks.
The soldier was startled into alertness by the unidentified group.
He reached urgently to ring the bell, but his comrade stopped him.
“What…?”
“…Wait.”
The soldier stared at the approaching procession.
They all wore the same clothing.
And the woman in the center, wearing a black-and-white dress and veil, stood out considerably.
“Could it be…?”
“What are you doing? We have to report this! They’re suspicious!”
“…It’s the Black-White Order.”
“Bl… what?”
“The Black-White Order! The procession led by the Angel of Death!”
The soldier looked at the procession in shock.
They too knew well of the Angel of Death. Lately, it was one of the stories circulating in taverns.
The goddess who brings plague.
The ‘Black-White Order’ that follows her was said to be a religious group that acts collectively.
But the soldier had only heard rumors, so he was not certain.
But to think they actually existed!
“Then we should report it even more! It’s the Plague Goddess!”
“…Are you stupid? That’s a false rumor! There are other rumors too!”
“Like what?”
“Rumors that they drive away plague, or heal the wounded, or save sinners!”
“…….”
“Open the gate.”
“Are you crazy? Do you know who they are…!”
As the soldiers bickered, the procession arrived before the castle gate.
The soldiers looked at the procession.
There were more than ten soldiers on the castle walls and at the gate, but not a single one tried to ring the bell or sound an alarm.
They merely gauged each other’s reactions.
Such was the strange atmosphere the procession exuded.
None of them knew that it was the skill ‘Charm’ being unconsciously used by the other party.
The procession stood still, showing no signs of threat, and the soldiers swallowed dryly.
“W-who are you! Why have you come here!”
A soldier who had been barely keeping his sick body upright mustered his courage and approached cautiously to ask.
One of the devotees of the Black-White Order in the procession coldly opened her mouth.
“We wish to enter. Open the gate.”
Though the voice belonged to a woman, it was completely detached.
“As if you can just decide that!”
“The Goddess is very weary. If you do not open it….”
When her hand moved toward the sword at her waist, the soldiers raised their weapons nervously.
Then, a woman approached wearing a black-and-white dress. Her hair was an orderly mixture of black and white, and a veil covered her face.
She came to the front of the procession and reached out her hand toward the soldier.
“Wh-what…?!”
As the soldier hesitated and stepped back, white light flowed from her hand and was absorbed into his body.
“……?!”
His sluggish, heavy body grew light, and his hazy mind cleared.
Warmth filled a body that had felt cold, and his complexion brightened.
“Wh-what is this?!”
Even expensive medicine had not cured him. It was not prescribed by a quack; it was medicine he had bought at the recommendation of a trusted acquaintance, spending nearly half his fortune, yet it had barely any effect.
And the woman had fixed such a body with overwhelming ease.
‘Is this magic…?’
But… even if it was magic, could it be this effective?
Since it was a matter of life and death, the soldier had taken great interest in ways to cure illness. Having inquired from acquaintances and travelers, he knew that while magic had the power to heal wounds, magic that cured diseases did not exist.
No, perhaps it did, but he had never heard of or seen anything that could cure one in such a short time.
Even the monks of the Holy Church treated diseases only with medicine, so as not to weaken their stamina!
This was almost like….
“…a miracle…?”
The woman tilted her head at the soldier’s murmur and opened her mouth.
“May we enter? I wish to treat the other patients.”
The soldier trembled and fell to his knees.
Tears streaming down his face, he pressed his palms together in prayer toward her.
“A-angel…! Th-thank you! Thank you! Truly, thank you!”
“……!”
The other soldiers stared at the kneeling soldier with wide eyes.
On the continent, calling anyone other than those of the Azelan Church a god or an angel constituted blasphemy.
If it became known, one would be treated as a heretic and judged by an Inquisitor.
“…What should we do?”
“…You saw it earlier. That guy was on the verge of death, yet he recovered like it was a lie, right?”
“Are you saying it’s a miracle?”
The soldiers muttered among themselves, showing caution.
Though it happened before their eyes, they could not trust them based on that alone.
The woman looked at them and spoke once more.
“Will you open it for us?”
“…….”
***
“I can’t eat anymore. Urgh…!”
Clutching his stomach from the pain that felt like his insides were turning inside out, Kudan….
Even with a body befitting a hero from a fairy tale, he seemed weak against alcohol, his face deathly pale.
“…I can still… eat more… uurk….”
The Berserker Warriors reached for their cups but, exhausted, simply planted their faces into the table.
The once-boisterous banquet hall had grown quiet.
Here and there in the banquet hall were vomit and the foul smell of alcohol. Nearly a hundred men, almost half-naked, lay collapsed carelessly.
Loki lifted Sallet, who had planted her head on the table with eyes spinning, and held her out to Aum.
Aum accepted Sallet with a subtle expression at the disrespectful gesture, as if grabbing a cat by the scruff.
“Put this one to bed in a room.”
“I shall do so.”
Aum nodded and took Sallet away.
The place Aum headed to was a single room.
Perhaps Count Hallum had taken care of it; the room was quite spacious, and the bed was extravagant.
Beside the luxurious, frilled bed was a candle emitting a strange fragrance.
The sweet scent was as if an expensive perfume had been sprayed.
At the subtle yet soft atmosphere, Aum looked around the room and clicked his tongue.
‘Things have gotten difficult. I need to find a justification somehow… or force one to be made.’
Aum laid Sallet on the bed and covered her with a blanket.
Sallet groaned and writhed, seemingly in great distress.
‘Are Dark Elves unable to hold their liquor? And I’d never imagined we’d form a connection with a Dark Elf. Just what has Lord Loki been doing out there?’
Many questions arose, but there was no need to question the path his master had chosen.
For he followed only the Holy Seat.
Aum inspected the room and, judging there was no threat, slowly closed the door and left.
At that moment, two pairs of eyes opened beneath the bed where Sallet lay.
Inside the dark room.
Sallet groaned and opened her eyes at the excessively sweet fragrance.
“Ugh… what is this smell!”
Sallet frowned and sniffed.
For an Elf with a developed sense of smell, the fragrance was so intense it made her head hurt. Fighting back the rising nausea, she was about to cover her mouth to keep from vomiting.
When she opened her eyes in her dazed state, someone grabbed her throat and pinned her to the bed.
“……?!”
Two masked assailants looked down at Sallet, exchanging glances.
“…It’s not the chieftain.”
“What should we do?”
“Our objective is the chieftain’s elimination… but just in case, we must eliminate her.”
“I see. But… this one is an elf, isn’t she?”
The two assailants looked down at Sallet.
“Did the Count say to keep her alive?”
“She might be usable as merchandise.”
“But the orders we received….”
“…are assassination.”
The two assassins looked down at Sallet and drew their daggers.
Sharp blades glinted in the darkness.
“Since she has already seen us.”
“We cannot leave her alive.”
Sallet’s eyes went wide and she struggled, but her arms and legs were already subdued.
“……!!”
“Die without pain.”
They raised their daggers with eyes full of killing intent… and brought them down on Sallet.