Chapter 66 : Chapter 66

Chapter 066 The Sword Fiend Arrives (1)

The fight ended quickly once Bolero joined in.

Warren and Viscount Mosfield each delegated the cleanup to their subordinates.

Everything proceeded smoothly.

“Do we really need to talk in a place like this? I intended to invite you to my estate.”

It was Viscount Mosfield who spoke as we entered the back alleys.

“There are prying eyes, aren’t there? A sewer rat coming and going from a noble’s estate isn’t exactly a natural sight. In times like these, you should be cautious to avoid unnecessary gossip.”

Warren narrowed his eyes as he spoke.

It wasn’t entirely wrong.

“…Tch. Still, I have my pride. A beggar’s den, of all places.”

“When I, the kingpin, am standing right here, you dare say such things? Come now, dry your clothes.”

“You, you…! Shut your mouth and lead the way.”

Their bickering somehow felt oddly affectionate.

Perhaps there was a deep, longstanding history between the two.

Come to think of it, they were of similar age.

What kind of bond could allow them to speak so candidly, transcending the gap between a lord and a beggar, a ruler of the light and an informant of the shadows?

‘Childhood friends, maybe.’

I decided to stop imagining there.

We returned to Warren’s ‘office.’

As soon as I lifted the tent flap and stepped inside, I glanced at Viscount Mosfield, who was rummaging through the furnishings as if he owned the place, and spoke.

“What’s this urgent matter you need to discuss?”

Behind me, Bolero crossed his arms and let out a snort.

I could feel him glaring at Warren even from the back of my head.

“…”

The moment Warren tossed a dry towel to Viscount Mosfield, he swallowed hard and abruptly bowed to me.

“I’m sorry, my lord. When explaining about the Sword Fiend, I didn’t mention your name due to our internal circumstances.”

“Internal circumstances?”

“Yes. We were told not to leak any information about the Sword Fiend. All we knew was that the Sword Fiend’s name is Bihen Benkou.”

As he spoke, he discreetly hid a sketch of my likeness that he had drawn.

“But even that name was under strict orders not to be carelessly spread. Instead, we were instructed to widely circulate the rumor that the Sword Fiend is coming.”

“Was it Ramba’s order?”

Warren’s eyes widened slightly.

His gaze dropped, naturally sweeping over the red cord tied to my scabbard.

“Yes, that’s correct. Ramba, the kingpin of Conwell, ranks among the top five within the Wild Dogs and Sewer Rats. In the eastern Kingdom, he’s the highest.”

As expected, my guess was right.

Without giving Warren time to dwell, I quickly added.

“That red cord with six knots you’re holding is a mark of our Wild Dogs and Sewer Rats. The one with six knots belongs to Ramba.”

I casually lifted my scabbard.

Behind me, Bolero poked his head out, comparing it to his own yellow cord.

“Mine has three knots.”

“Typically, each branch leader’s cord has three knots. Mine does too.”

“So that’s what it meant. I thought it was just a token given discreetly to important clients.”

“That’s true as well, but the cord from a kingpin with six knots carries a deeper meaning. For instance…”

Warren shrank even further, his hunched back making the hump more pronounced.

“A repayment to a benefactor who saved a life, you could say. It’s proof of the deepest trust. In other words, we Wild Dogs and Sewer Rats must cooperate with you wholeheartedly. If we’ve received a favor, we must repay it. That’s our way.”

It hit me then.

It was when we took down the mandrake.

Ramba, with tears in his eyes, had said:―This beggar knows how to strictly distinguish debts and favors! No matter how much you refuse, it’s no use! I’ll repay you in my own way, no matter what!

…If that’s the case, he could’ve told me how to use it beforehand.

“Is it true… that you killed the Blood Mage?”

The question snapped me out of my thoughts.

Viscount Mosfield was watching me cautiously.

I became aware of Warren and Bolero’s wary gazes converging on me before I spoke.

“It’s true.”

“And that Sir Eugene fell…”

I couldn’t bring myself to answer that question.

I merely gave a slight nod.

For a moment, no one spoke.

The air grew heavy, as if steeped in mourning.

It was Viscount Mosfield who broke the silence.

“To be honest, I’m still stunned and can hardly believe it. The Sword Fiend appearing in Belmont, of all places. The Archduke even claimed the Sword Fiend was a fictional figure invented by the Lady.”

He took a slow breath before continuing.

“It seems Lady Adeline sent messengers to various regions requesting reinforcements. One arrived for me, but that very day, that damned Angus showed up too. Blast it, he openly threatened me.”

“So what’s the current state of the war? Have you located Lady Adeline?”

As if waiting for the question, Warren answered.

“It started when the Archduke ambushed Lady Adeline as she returned from Talrug Canyon. Since then, her whereabouts have been unclear…”

Warren glanced at Bolero before continuing.

“The prevailing theory is that she fled to the Solari Convent.”

Bolero let out a long sigh.

His expression was complex, a mix of laughter and tears.

“Ahh, so that’s how it was. No wonder the Saintess suddenly told me to visit Conwell…”

“Saintess?”

“She’s a priestess at the Solari headquarters in Aleos. Known for her deep spirituality, said to commune with Elzerus. Anyway, if the Lady truly fled to the Conwell Convent, we can breathe a little easier for now.”

He explained further.

The Solari Convent in Conwell was located in Litania, a small coastal village at Conwell’s southernmost tip, near Breadport.

“The convent isn’t open to just anyone. The area is surrounded by a labyrinthine, powerful water-sealing formation. With the sea at its back and magic arrays on all three fronts, it’s a natural fortress.”

He added that the formation was personally set up by the Saintess when the convent was built, making it impossible for just anyone to break.

The situation became clearer.

“She plans to hold out and wait for the support of the surrounding lords.”

“Not just the nearby lords. The Wild Dogs and Sewer Rats are spreading the word. The Lady, as the rightful heir, is gathering righteous individuals to restore order. And soon, the Sword Fiend will return…”

“What about outside the convent? Has the Archduke completely secured control?”

“Not entirely. Several nearby lords have mobilized to aid the Lady, and thanks to knights, mercenaries, and wandering warriors opposing the Archduke, sporadic skirmishes are breaking out. Though they’re very few in number.”

Before he finished, Bolero quietly placed a hand on my shoulder from behind.

I felt a heavy warmth.

“This confirms it. Our meeting was a revelation from Elzerus. Come, let’s hurry. We must join the Lady.”

“Before that…”

I gently lowered Bolero’s hand and asked.

“What’s the status of Zephyros?”

“Pardon? Zephyros… you mean the Sharon Faction militia in Easton?”

“Well, that’s their public face. In truth, they’re a hypocritical bunch with dark intentions.”

“There’s no notable activity. They’re holed up in Easton, not moving, which likely means…”

“They’ve sided with the Archduke.”

“Exactly, my lord.”

Zephyros. I’d long vowed to wipe them out someday.

Their plausible pretext of maintaining Easton’s security made them untouchable.

But a civil war had broken out.

In other words, the chance to set everything right had come.

‘No need to hold back anymore.’

The corners of my mouth curled upward.

Of course, I’m no warmonger.

The time had finally come to tear off their masks.

* * *

Thick, dark clouds obscured the morning sun, and the gloomy weather persisted.

“Is it going to rain or not…?”

A middle-aged man muttered, looking up at the dreary sky.

He was a merchant who had run a textile shop in Easton’s city center for over a decade.

‘The heavens are angry. Truly, deeply angry. Damn it all.’

He didn’t dare curse aloud, lest someone overhear.

Swallowing his frustration, he was pulling the discounted goods displayed at the shop’s entrance back inside when—

“Hey, clothmonger old man.”

“What, who’s that? The fortune-teller, huh.”

The fortune-teller hiccuped loudly and approached, chuckling.

The stench of alcohol hit hard.

“Drinking in broad daylight?”

“Broad daylight, my foot. The sky’s dark as night, the streets are empty as a ghost town. Could pass for midnight. Hic.”

The fortune-teller, staggering, plopped onto a chair beside the stall.

The clothmonger, startled, glanced around.

“Are you trying to get us in trouble? Are you mad? Huh? Mad, I say! Don’t you know what happens if you run your mouth like that in times like these?”

“What’s the worst that could happen? Death? Might as well die if everything’s gone to hell.”

“…Gone to hell? What do you mean?”

The fortune-teller sneered and pointed boldly at the clothmonger.

“With ears that deaf, how’d you survive in this trade for ten years?”

“Ugh, stop beating around the bush. Are you saying you’re really ruined?”

“Aye, ruined. Completely, spectacularly ruined. Last night, a gang of bandits stormed in, trashed my shop, and told me never to set up a stall again. Said they’d hunt me down anywhere in the Kingdom. They say the fortune-teller clan’s done for, and here I am, living proof.”

The fortune-teller laughed as if unburdened, but the clothmonger couldn’t hide his bitterness.

He didn’t need to ask for details to understand.

“I’m fine. No grievances here. I praised Ness Servai to high heaven, so it’s only natural I’d fall into the abyss with him. At least I don’t need to read my own future anymore. I’ve hit rock bottom. Hic.”

The clothmonger, now resigned, stopped making a fuss.

His heart was heavy in many ways.

“…You’re right. Who would’ve thought that knight, supposedly so just, was full of ambition?”

“Heh. When the Archduke declared he’d overthrow the Lady, Zephyros was the first to move, swift as lightning.”

Their stated cause was grand: stabilizing order and quelling chaos.

They reacted to the Archduke’s declaration with uncanny speed.

The clothmonger gave a self-mocking scoff.

“Well, it’s not just you who’s ruined. The merchants who wagged their tails and paid tribute to Zephyros got a solid hit to the back of the head. Myself included. Look at this. We’re all done for.”

Across the street, every shop was tightly shuttered.

The usually bustling city center was as silent as a grave.

“We ignorantly handed over money, fattening the bellies of those traitors. We merchants know, don’t we? While the lord lay ill, who looked after the people of this land? Who kept our businesses running so we could scrape by? No money, no loyalty, huh? And now the Archduke wants to swallow Conwell whole, with Zephyros as his lackeys—who could’ve seen that coming? In the end, some leave in frustration, others shamelessly hold on only to get beaten and driven out like you, and some are just biding their time… Sigh, I can’t keep this up either.”

The clothmonger, now utterly defeated, vented his grievances.

He craved a drink.

As the clothmonger and fortune-teller sat side by side, sighing heavily—

The Sword Fiend comes—

The phrase echoed from somewhere, and the clothmonger grimaced.

He snorted with a bored expression.

“That damned Sword Fiend, ugh. Those beggar brats and their loose lips are the problem.”

“*Hic*. One of those beggars who threatened me yesterday said it’s for real.”

“What, the Sword Fiend’s coming?”

“About two weeks ago, up there, where was it… ah, Belmont. He showed up there.”

The clothmonger rolled a bit of dried snot between his fingers.

“Aren’t you tired of that rumor? Even my grandson yawns instead of crying when he hears it now.”

“I did try divining it, you know.”

The fortune-teller slyly raised a corner of his mouth.

The clothmonger subtly arched an eyebrow. He’d feigned disinterest, but curiosity stirred.

“Oh? What’d it say?”

“Well…”

The fortune-teller slowly lifted his head, staring quietly at the sky.

His suddenly serious expression made the clothmonger, despite his indifference, meet his gaze.

A moment later, the fortune-teller muttered softly.

“…It’s off.”

“Huh? What’s that mean?”

“Off. Just another baseless rumor, I’m saying.”

“Tch.”

“Come on, let’s go. Hic—”

The fortune-teller slapped his knee and stood.

“Go where?”

“Where else? The execution of the guard captain’s today, isn’t it?”

“Ah… Jayden, you mean. Sigh, it’s already that day.”

The clothmonger let out a heavy sigh and rose as well.

“Yeah. We should see him off. He was a good man.”

Kurrrrrung—!

Suddenly, thunder roared.

It was like the sound of drums beating in the sky.

“Whoa, damn, that startled me.”

The clothmonger flinched and looked up.

The fortune-teller, swallowing dryly, gazed at the sky again.

Lightning flashed between the dark, heavy clouds. It was, quite literally, a bolt from the blue.

The clothmonger and fortune-teller muttered in unison.

“…Is he really coming?”

Tip: Tap/click the left or right side of the screen to go to previous/next chapter.