Chapter 039
In that moment, Alvin suddenly remembered something he'd forgotten.
'They said Mad Dog Ran bore a grudge against the Holy Knights.'
Brahms had warned him about this.
He tried to step back in alarm, but Ran already had him by the collar. His body couldn't move an inch.
"Speak, Alvin."
This was the first time he had seen Ran this close. There was a murderous gleam in his eyes.
Alvin couldn't say a word. His mind went completely blank.
"Ra—Ran? Calm, calm down?!"
"......"
Ran let go of his collar, almost with a shove.
Alvin, drained of strength, landed on the ground with a thud. Only then, gasping for breath, did he reach up to rub his bruised neck. Ran was chuckling in the shadowy cell.
'That freaking lunatic bastard?!'
He had thought they'd grown close. Alvin felt so wronged, he was almost in tears.
"Alvin, it was a joke, a joke. Are you alright?"
"... You, now I see why they call you Mad Dog."
Alvin spat, then turned away.
He could still hear Ran's laughter behind him.
* * *
The next day, the Holy Knights finally entered the capital.
Ran leaned his head against the iron bars, scanning the outside. Muradin was having a chat with the chief gatekeeper.
Bang!
Brahms kicked the prison wagon. With a loud, metallic clang, it shook violently. Cracking his neck menacingly, Brahms glared at Ran.
"Let's see how long you can keep that composure."
"......"
"I can bully people a bit too, you know. Not as good as you lot, though."
Brahms spat and returned to his place.
Ran had lost his comrades because of them. Whatever the reasons, that truth didn't change. There could be no good feelings.
Ran just shrugged. From afar, his eyes met Alvin's. Ran winked and grinned, while Alvin turned away.
Crossing the drawbridge and passing through the outer city gate, the Holy Knights marched straight through the city.
"Aren't those the Holy Knights? They're actually out on a campaign?"
"They say they've caught a heretic."
"That's usually the Special Unit's job, isn't it?"
"I heard the Special Unit's been unstable lately—maybe the rumor that the Holy Knights will take over is true after all."
A considerable crowd split to watch the Holy Knights' procession.
Their attention was focused on the prison wagon in the center.
"Aren't those Special Unit uniforms?"
Those who recognized it whispered secretly. Ran, hunched in the cramped space, was covered completely with his cloak.
"Sir Muradin, there are a lot of eyes on us."
Brahms whispered to Muradin at the very front.
The Holy Knights weren't proud right now. Whatever the orders, they had essentially collaborated in an operation against the Church. Everyone kept quiet but carried a sense of guilt.
"And what of it?"
"Excuse me? Don't you think the attention is a little..."
"It feels awkward to say, but I spent all of the civil war at the rear. I always envied the units that held victory parades."
Brahms frowned.
'Has this old man gone senile? Growing delusions of grandeur in his twilight years.'
True to his word, muradin looked as triumphant as any war hero.
Brahms turned to look back.
For some reason, a vague sense of unease began to creep over him.
"Surely you're not headed for the main gate of the inner city?"
"Yes. It's best to be welcomed by as many citizens as possible."
The capital, Gerinhild, was a city built in three layers.
The outer city encircled nearly the entire expanse of Gerinhild, home to most of its citizens.
The inner city housed the Grand Cathedral, special Unit headquarters, the Holy Knights' quarters, and other government buildings and noble mansions.
At the very heart, deep within the inner city, was the single road leading to the royal palace, the Imperial Way.
There were only eight outer city gates, but dozens at the inner city, each strictly segregated by social status and rank.
'Why go through the main gate instead of the Velmore Gate...?'
Velmore was a legendary Holy Knight. The gate reserved just for their order was named after him, leading straight back to their base.
But the main gate of the inner city had no status restrictions, and thus saw the greatest traffic. All sorts of people, including foreigners and those with different business, passed through after a thorough search.
The biggest marketplace on the mainland was right beyond the main gate.
'Are we almost there?'
Ran quietly closed his eyes.
It hadn't been as hard as he thought. In fact, it had been a good experience.
'These handcuffs are much lighter than the Special Unit's.'
The Special Unit and Holy Knights both originated as the 'Sword of the Holy Church', but as time passed, the Special Unit focused more on security and policing, and their equipment—their standard weapons—began to differ.
On closer inspection, contrary to popular belief, the Holy Knights' gear was lagging behind the Special Unit's.
'They only kept the noble affectations.'
He finally finished his thoughts.
Ran kicked the roof of his cramped cell.
Bang!
Suddenly, the commotion outside ceased. A noise of confusion rose around him.
"What the hell!"
One of the Holy Knights cursed at Ran. Their eyes were at exactly the same level.
"This isn't what was promised."
"What? Promised?"
"Yes. If I cooperated quietly, the Holy Knights should keep their promise. How long are you going to treat me like a criminal?"
Ran lifted both hands, handcuffed, and pointed back with his thumb.
"You're supposed to take me to the Special Unit headquarters."
The Holy Knight couldn't reply. He bit his lip, then ran to the front to where Muradin was.
Alvin took his place.
"Oh, Alvin. Still mad at me?"
"... Shut up."
Maybe it really had all been a joke. But the fear remained vivid. Alvin's hands were soaked with sweat.
Brahms approached.
"Mad Dog Ran, don't try anything. If you've got complaints, take it up with the deputy-commander at headquarters."
"Did you clear it with the Special Unit too?"
"You'll know when you get there."
Clang!
Ran grabbed the bars with both hands. Brahms and Alvin recoiled in shock.
"You were with Demian, weren't you? You thought I didn't know?"
"...!!"
"You were making all that fuss about the inquisitor—you really tried hard, didn't you? Black armor, masks?"
"... Shut up."
"You can't wash off the stench of a dog. Asriel's dog, I mean."
"You sick bastard!"
Brahms' face flushed bright red. He shouted at Alvin.
"Alvin! The keys! Now!"
"Wh—what? The key??"
"The cell key!"
Frantically, Alvin searched his inner pocket.
'Huh?'
There were supposed to be two keys. One for the cell door, one for the handcuffs.
A cold chill ran down his spine. One was missing.
"What are you doing, idiot! Don't just stand there!"
Brahms snatched the keys from Alvin. Crowds were gathering at the commotion. As the noise rose, even Muradin halted the procession.
"What's going on!"
Ignoring Muradin's booming voice, Brahms irritably began to unlock the cell.
"Sir Brahms?!"
"Let me go!"
Alvin tried to restrain him, but it was no use.
It was impossible to quickly explain—the handcuff key was gone, something was wrong.
Alvin, fallen to the ground, stared blankly at Brahms' back.
Somehow, time seemed to slow down. The past few days flickered before his eyes like a lantern show.
Brahms had changed noticeably of late. Usually cheerful and kind, he'd become tense and brittle, like a man being chased by his own fears. Alvin understood. The Holy Knights, all nobles' sons, had hardly any real combat experience. For someone so gentle to lose his comrades all at once and suffer such trauma—perhaps it was only natural.
'Tom?'
Alvin reached out. His mind screamed to stop what was happening, but his body wouldn't move.
Brahms finally unlocked the cell and barged inside. He seemed intent on dragging Ran out. In the cramped space, the two men wrestled.
'...!!'
Alvin convulsed in horror—he had just seen the blade of a sword pierce straight through Brahms' abdomen and emerge from his back.
It was a grotesquely unnatural sight.
"Tom...?"
Alvin's words failed him.
As Brahms' body slumped aside, he locked eyes with Ran, now stepping out of the cell under his own power.
His hands were free. He held Brahms' sword in his right. The broken, split handcuffs dangled with a chilling clatter.
"Kyaaaaaaah—!!"
In an instant, chaos erupted.
Alvin sat amid the panicked, fleeing crowd, looking up in terror at Ran.
His body refused to move.
"Alvin—!!"
A Holy Knight nearby shouted the boy's name and swung his sword.
Slash!
Alvin squeezed his eyes shut. Sticky blood splattered across his face—Holy Knight's blood.
"Sir Jansen...?"
Then two attacked at once.
The unimaginable continued.
Ran seemed to barely move at all, his actions minimal. With swift, efficient motions, the two collapsed without even screaming.
Lives were snuffed out before his eyes.
'A Holy Knight of justice.'
That's what Ran said—or rather, that's the shape his lips formed.
The ringing in Alvin's ears faded, and sound returned to the world. He snapped his eyes open as if waking from a nightmare.
"Hyaaaah—!"
Alvin charged at Ran, shouting and drawing his sword.
Thud!
Suddenly his legs gave out beneath him—a sharp pain lanced through his shins, and his sword-hand nearly went numb.
Even before he could recover his lost weapon, his vision spun. It felt as if he were being toyed with by an overwhelming force.
When he came to, he saw his comrades' shocked faces looming directly ahead.
"Alvin, don't move."
A chilling voice came from right behind him. Not that such words were needed—he couldn't move anyway.
Ran had him in a headlock with one arm, pointing Brahms' sword at the other Holy Knights with the other.
"Don't come closer."
The Holy Knights hesitated in confusion. Muradin too.
'A hostage crisis, right in the center of the capital!'
He had dreamed of a pleasant retirement, waited on by loyal retainers and beautiful women. That sweet vision shattered into pieces.
Muradin's face turned deathly pale.
"If everyone had just kept their promises, this wouldn't have happened, right, Alvin?"
He didn't really expect a response. It wasn't sincere anyway.
From the moment he surrendered, Ran had planned everything.
If Muradin had taken him to the Special Unit headquarters, things would likely have gotten messier.
"Even if you take me like this, you'll die too! Stop this madness now!"
"Shhh, quiet now. Stay still and I'll let you live."
"You crazy bastard...! Tom is dead because of you! Tom is dead, do you get that?"
Alvin choked out the words between sobs, dragged backward in Ran's grip.
The distance from Brahms' collapsed body grew.
It felt wrong to see someone so kind lying on the cold ground. Perhaps it was for the best Alvin couldn't see his face.
"Mad Dog Ran! What the hell are you thinking? Stop this at once!"
Muradin shouted. The other Holy Knights, led by him, slowly followed as Ran retreated backwards.
Seizing a moment when Ran was silent, Alvin asked,
"It was last night, wasn't it? You bastard. You stole the key."
"You just realized?"
"Did you approach us on purpose from the start?"
"What does it matter if you know? Besides, you approached me, not the other way around."
The city guards, caught flatfooted by the sudden crisis, looked as though they'd been struck by lightning on a clear day. Nobody could have imagined something like this happening in the peaceful capital.
As they bustled, trying to take some action, muradin quickly ordered them back.
Thanks to the retired knight's wish to resolve things quietly, using an undisciplined, ragtag unit, Ran smoothly made it past the inner city's main gate.
'Archers will be in position soon.'
Ran moved his head restlessly. Surveying the tall buildings while tracking every move of the surrounding Holy Knights and guards—one mistake would mean death.
The high-wire act continued for a while longer.
"Alvin, you don't have to be a Holy Knight."
"... What?"
Alvin, unable to turn his head and lost in confusion, had all but lost his sense of place.
He only noticed that Ran was walking a little slower now.
"Just... be someone righteous."
Thunk!
Ran struck Alvin on the back of the head with the hilt of his sword.
-------------= Clacky's Corner -------------=
A kerfuffle in the city.
At least Alvin did not die.
【ദ്ദി(⩌ᴗ⩌)】