Chapter 98 : Chapter 98

Chapter 098 : White Night Tactics (3)

The cut was clean, not a drop of blood.

I turned away from Kuhn’s collapsing body.

As expected, she was there.

“Forgive my rudeness. Facing you like this took great courage on my part.”

Clank.

I sheathed my sword in response.

“Now things are starting to add up. I wondered why an Imperial fiend was here out of nowhere. Why is the Imperial Family going to such lengths?”

“The Blood Devil was only a part.”

“…What?”

A memory flashed.

The brief words the Blood Devil had left behind.

—Great causes bloom by using small sacrifices as fertilizer.

Great cause.

I thought it was just nonsense back then.

‘…Something’s off.’

If my memory is correct, there were no fiends like the Blood Devil in my past life.

“So, are there more? Fiends like the Blood Devil?”

“Yes. But I don’t know the details. It’s far beyond my authority.”

Annoying.

I glared at Kuhn.

“Don’t blabber if you can’t spill anything useful. I get that the Imperial Family is scheming to shake this land. But…”

I paused, my fingers tightening instinctively.

“Why did an Imperial lackey help me? Was that part of the plan too?”

Maybe it was her pale face, but her intentions were hard to read.

Her long hair swayed gently with the flickering flames, making her seem almost otherworldly.

“I was given two missions: the complete descent of the Blood Devil and plunging Conwell into chaos. One failed, but the other is proceeding as planned. I helped you in Easton because you are a pivot of that chaos.”

“What? Me, a pivot of chaos…”

“The Imperial Family’s millennial plan.”

Her obsidian-like eyes closed softly and opened slowly.

“Are you confident you can oppose it?”

I answered immediately.

“Of course.”

“…Understood.”

Was it my imagination?

Kuhn’s lips curved into a faint arc.

“The reason I called you here today… was to confirm.”

Kuhn revealed her hidden arm.

Between her slender, pale fingers was a talisman.

“On a side note, apart from your martial prowess, your command skills are quite seasoned. It was fascinating to observe. You’re young, with no record of such in the Empire. Do you rely solely on instinct?”

“No need to tell a dead woman.”

“I see.”

Hiss—

Smoke rose from Kuhn’s feet, swallowing her whole in an instant.

The black smoke spread, engulfing the area.

“Hurry. The Order’s Spell Formation will soon be undone.”

Her voice came from somewhere in the thick smoke.

As I rushed toward it, the smoke sank into the ground as if sucked downward.

Kuhn was gone.

“…Damn it.”

I turned my head absently. A hollow laugh escaped me.

A path had opened through the flames.

I walked along the kindly cleared path but stopped.

“Oh, right.”

I forgot to ask about Yeats.

I was a bit curious, to be honest.

* * *

Nine days since the White Night Tactics began.

The awaited reaction finally came.

“The enemy is coming—!”

A scout burst into the tent.

In the tent, centered around Viscount Mosfield and Declan at the head, all key figures were gathered.

“Cavalry and infantry vanguard, plus a mage unit in the rear, totaling roughly a thousand men! They’re crossing the Litania Plains and approaching fast!”

The scout, bowing, caught his breath.

The tent fell silent for a moment, filled only with the scout’s ragged breathing and occasional gasps.

“A thousand…”

Viscount Mosfield muttered, half-dazed, looking like he might wet himself again.

“Sending over half their main force? That’s unexpected.”

“Ahem, Callence. A full-scale assault, huh?”

Anderson and Declan chimed in.

They tried to sound composed, but their trembling fingertips betrayed their bravado.

“We’re barely two hundred. Even with a plan, this gap means we’ll be swept away in no time. Bihen, what do we do? Can we handle this?”

Bonnie asked, uncharacteristically full of worry.

It was indeed far more than expected.

I asked the scout.

“Who’s leading them?”

“We haven’t confirmed it yet.”

One of the Four Wings remains.

The spearman with a shield. Draven, was it?

‘I knew he’d come.’

If a Wing led the vanguard, the scout would’ve known.

So, he stayed with the Archduke’s main force?

That makes sense.

They’re compensating for the absence of a master with sheer numbers.

‘…!’

I nodded but froze.

Blood rushed to my eyes.

—Hurry. The Order’s Spell Formation will soon be undone.

It wasn’t just a warning?

If they’re timing the release of the Spell Formation to secure Adeline while tying me down with a numbers assault…

‘Is Kuhn working with the Archduke?’

The answer came instinctively.

‘…No.’

I’m probably right.

With so little information on both, intuition over logic is the way to go now.

From that perspective, the connection between them feels off.

Reflecting on it, there’s no trace of Kuhn in the Archduke’s incidents.

The Sylphiroa affair?

I heard the Four Wings were heavily punished by the Archduke after causing havoc in Easton.

As the supposed heir, he publicly held them accountable to appease public sentiment.

Would he have directly ordered Kuhn and Yeats to annihilate Sylphiroa?

‘Likely Yeats’s own doing.’

Or maybe at Kuhn’s instigation.

—You’re Lady Adeline’s only hope now. You must survive.

Kuhn’s telepathic transmission from Easton, when I was surrounded by the Four Wings, left too strong an impression to forget.

—I was given two missions: the complete descent of the Blood Devil and plunging Conwell into chaos. One failed, but the other is proceeding as planned. I helped you in Easton because you are a pivot of that chaos.

Kuhn repeatedly mentioned “chaos.”

If she were cooperating with one side, her idea of chaos wouldn’t hold.

It’s more about shaking the board, regardless of means or target.

Helping me must be because my existence would make Conwell even more turbulent.

‘Could she pull this off alone?’

No.

There’s someone backing her.

Not the Imperial Family, but a local collaborator in this land.

In a kingdom where status and bloodline are paramount, even a cunning sorcerer can’t freely operate in a land teeming with magic factions.

Yet Kuhn befriended Yeats, a high-ranking figure in Conwell, and freely used the false identity of Zephyros’s tactical adjutant.

‘…Zephyros?’

My pupils dilated.

Yes, I remember clearly.

When Jewel first introduced them to me.

—Ness Servai isn’t Zephyros’s leader. There’s a hidden leader behind the veil. I know you’ll ask who, so I’ll say in advance: I swear I don’t know. Given that even the Conwell family secretly supports Zephyros, that leader must be no ordinary figure.

The Conwell family and Zephyros.

The leader Jewel couldn’t identify.

Not Adeline, not Callence…

A Conwell bloodline hidden in the shadows.

—Don’t get me started. A notorious bas… Ahem, maybe it’s natural you don’t know. They don’t do anything publicly. Just revel in debauchery.

That wastrel.

‘Second Son Killian.’

Just then.

Another soldier entered the tent.

A Belmont soldier.

“My lord, some beggar’s causing a ruckus outside…”

Viscount Mosfield frowned.

“What? A beggar? Are you joking with me? Can’t you read the room?! Why report a damn beggar here?”

“He claims he’s close with the leader here… Threatening that we’ll face severe punishment if we kick him out.”

“What? Close to me? No way Warren’s here… Ahem! No. Kick him out! What time do you think this is, tch.”

The soldier hesitated, glancing at me.

A pleading look for help.

Why me, of all people, I don’t know, but… Things are already a headache.

I said to Mosfield.

“Let him in. If he’s spouting nonsense, we’ll deal with him then.”

“Let him in!”

He commanded as if he’d been waiting. I rubbed my forehead.

The tent flap lifted, and light footsteps entered.

“Well, well, finally meeting the heroes! Haha!”

The voice was familiar.

I slowly raised my head.

“Long time no see, my lord!”

He grinned at me, showing his few yellowed teeth.

“Ramba.”

Close relationship.

Right.

* * *

By rank, Viscount Mosfield was the highest here.

Declan, though acting as Theodore’s lord, had no title.

Ramba addressed Mosfield, as expected of the Wild Dogs and Sewer Rats’ boss, having sorted out the hierarchy long ago.

Thanks to that, the atmosphere eased naturally.

Ramba’s charm helped.

“Our leader gave me a special order. To lead the Dogs sent from the main group to aid the ‘allied forces.’ So, I’ve come to ask the supreme commander, Viscount Mosfield, to let us beggars join.”

Mosfield’s face lit up.

He coughed dramatically.

“Ahem, ahem! S-Supreme Commander…!”

He glanced between Declan and Anderson, then shrugged for no reason.

Luckily, he didn’t hear Anderson’s scoff.

“Our allied forces are here with one heart, wishing for the alliance’s peace. Under the banner of justice, what does status matter? As the supreme commander, I gladly accept your joining.”

“Haha, thank you, my lord.”

Well, Ramba seemed busy.

I already knew.

The Sewer Rats scattered across Conwell reported my movements to Ramba at the Order without fail.

When we parted in Easton, I’d asked him to be Adeline’s eyes and ears.

That way, I, out here, and Adeline, trapped in the Order, could stay in sync.

Of course, revealing my, Adeline’s, and Ramba’s connection here would be tricky.

If word got out that Conwell’s lord consorted with beggars, it’d hurt her reputation.

For now, Mosfield and the Theodore siblings are outsiders to Conwell.

“The Wild Dogs and Sewer Rats must know about the Order, right? I’m curious about the lady’s situation. No trouble, I hope?”

Bonnie asked, tactfully steering the conversation.

Classic Bonnie.

“Yes. Lady Adeline is safe, from what I know.”

“The Spell Formation? Still holding?”

“It’s so vast that there are occasional flaws. Some of the Archduke’s forces slip in, but thankfully, they’re holding them off. They can’t mount a counterattack, though.”

I quietly sighed in relief.

No major issues so far.

Mosfield, sipping tea, asked.

“Hmm. Good. So, how many dogs… I mean, how many Dog warriors are joining the allied forces?”

“About twenty, my lord.”

Mosfield spat out his tea.

What was he expecting?

“Ahem, very… reassuring.”

“Haha. They’re worth a hundred each, so no worries, my lord.”

“Can you tell us about the Order’s forces? The Archduke’s army is coming. If there’s spare strength, a pincer attack with the lady could be a good plan.”

Mosfield finally said something befitting a supreme commander.

I wasn’t the only one who felt it.

All eyes turned to Ramba, tinged with subtle expectation.

Ramba gave a bitter smile.

“The forces are embarrassingly meager. The Martial Priest Bolero, called the Fist King, joined recently and is a strong pillar with the monks, but numbers are lacking. Even with the Second Son’s private soldiers. Excluding Sir Jayden, appointed by the lady…”

Wait, did I hear that right?

“What? Second Son?”

Startled by my sharp question, Ramba glanced around before answering.

“Y-Yes… my lord. Second Son Killian.”

Cold sweat trickled down my spine.

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