“Louis Berg... You mean that infamous scoundrel from House Berg.”
The Veilmaster spoke in a flat tone. It was only a single sentence, but Verick felt a chill slither down his spine.
…He’s even more of a monster than the old man.
An Aura Master, at the very least.
Verick swallowed dryly at the appearance of a Thief Master—a figure he’d only ever heard about from bards.
“…Yes, that’s right. Is it possible?”
“Possible...?” The Veilmaster looked Verick up and down, then let out a short, mirthless chuckle. “Do you think otherwise?”
Whoosh!
For an instant, the Veilmaster unleashed a murderous aura. It crept along the floor like midnight fog, and before Verick knew it, it had wrapped itself around his throat.
“Gkk—!” Verick’s hands shot up to his neck in a panic. Blood vessels bloomed in his eyes, and his face turned blue. “P-please… spare me…!”
His voice was barely more than a strangled croak as he begged for his life.
And then—
Whoosh!
The killing intent vanished as suddenly as it had appeared.
The crushing force binding his body was gone, as if it had never existed, and the audience chamber looked as peaceful as if nothing at all had happened.
Verick gasped for air, sucking it in violently.
“Haa—! Haa—!”
He’d nearly died. He’d almost been snuffed out by nothing more than the killing intent of a single man.
Rolling on the floor, Verick looked up at the Veilmaster.
Monster. Of all the monsters he’d met, this one was in a league of his own.
“Thank you… for sparing me.” Verick bowed his head to the Veilmaster.
The Veilmaster, for his part, looked down at Verick with all the interest of someone watching dust settle, and spoke. “I’ll accept your request. But you’ll have to leave behind the nameplate your grandfather left you.”
“…The nameplate?” Verick’s eyes flicked to the nameplate.
He wasn’t particularly sentimental about it. After all, it was just a memento from a grandfather who was already dead.
Keeping a dead man’s keepsake was really just a waste of perfectly good emotions, wasn’t it?
The only reason he hesitated was because it felt like a shame to let it go.
This was a chance to use the Death Veil… but to think he’d only get to use it once.
What a dreadful waste, truly.
“…Couldn’t I pay with something else?” Verick asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
Even after taking that killing intent straight on, his greed refused to die.
If anything, that brush with death only made his desire flare up even more.
A blade that could kill anyone—this was the sort of hidden card you had to get your hands on, no matter what it cost.
But the Veilmaster, still wearing a look of indifference, replied without a hint of interest. “Denied. The price for this job is only the Death Veil’s nameplate. Nothing else.”
“…I see.” Verick nodded, swallowing his regret.
Push any further, and he’d probably get another taste of that murderous aura. As much as he hated to part with the nameplate, it wasn’t worth more than his life.
“…Very well. I’ll leave the nameplate here, then.”
“Do so.” With that, the Veilmaster gestured to the attendant at his side.
Soon enough, the attendant led Verick out of the Death Veil, guiding him to where Hera was waiting outside.
Once they stepped out, Hera shot Verick a look brimming with venom. She was clearly still furious about the slap earlier, and about being left alone here.
But perhaps she realized that if she let her anger explode now, she might end up truly abandoned.
So instead, Hera just whipped her head away in a huff.
“Let’s get going already,” she snapped curtly.
Verick let out a small, wry chuckle and nodded. “Alright.”
He thought to himself: Even if she’s the Duke’s precious daughter, in the end, she’s just a girl.
Of course, that was a mistake.
And understandably so.
“…What a fierce woman,” the attendant muttered, looking down at a note Hera had dropped.
The note read as follows.
[ Assassination Request ]
[ Targets: Duke Artezia, Verick Dragunov ]
* * *
“So, what exactly did you say you found…?”
“Mithril.”
“No, I mean, what…?”
The Baron let out a hollow laugh, his face twisted in disbelief. He seemed stunned that I had come back only to tell him there was Mithril in his lands.
Honestly, I probably would have felt the same way.
It was only natural for him to find it hard to believe that in a land torn apart by poverty, enough wealth had suddenly appeared to last for centuries.
But this was reality. A particularly delightful sort of reality, at that.
“If you want the details, Rom can explain everything,” I said.
“…Haha. So you already knew about this?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.” I shrugged.
The Baron chuckled wryly. “Young Lord, you really are… something else. I feel as if I’ve been hoodwinked by a ghost.”
“Oh, I’m not all that impressive. But for now, you’d best get moving. You’ll need to gather miners, and people for the merchant company, too.”
“Yes, I suppose I’ll have to get busy. But, what about His Imperial Majesty…?”
“Of course, we’ll report everything and present the Mithril to His Majesty. That way, we’ll have his protection.”
“Ah, I thought as much. That’s a relief. I was worried you might suggest hiding it from His Majesty.”
The Baron let out a sigh of relief and nodded before continuing. “In that case, I’ll start recruiting miners, but we’ll wait for His Majesty’s orders before doing anything else.”
“Good thinking. Until His Majesty’s knights arrive to protect us, it’s best not to let the Mithril see the light of day.”
“Yes, I’ll do just that.” The Baron grinned from ear to ear. “Well then, I’ll take my leave. Looks like I have a mountain of preparations ahead.”
“Yes, we should start getting ready to leave as well.”
It was about time to be on our way, anyway. All that remained was to introduce Rom to House Berg, then—
“S-something terrible has happened!”
Just as I was about to approach Rom, a guard—who’d been standing watch in his place—came running over, gasping for breath.
The Baron scowled at the soldier and asked, “What’s the matter?”
“The territory—just outside the territory…!”
The soldier, gasping for air, jabbed his finger toward the outside.
The Baron, looking frustrated, pressed him for clarity. “Speak plainly. Has something happened?”
“Yes, milord! K-Kobolds and Gnolls have appeared!” The soldier managed to choke down his ragged breaths long enough to shout the news.
The Baron’s expression turned to stone.
“…Gather the soldiers at once. If it’s only a dozen or so, we can handle them. Rom, escort our guests to a private room.”
“Yes, Father.”
Instead of asking us to fight alongside him, the Baron ordered Rom to lead us to safety. It was the look of a man who’d decided he was already in enough debt and wasn’t keen to borrow any more.
But the soldier’s next shout brought the Baron’s orders to a screeching halt.
“We can’t!”
“…What do you mean?”
“We all have to run! Everyone needs to flee!”
The soldier was the very picture of terror, panic practically oozing from every pore.
Only then did the Baron really take in the man’s state, and he bit his lip hard.
“…Are you saying there are dozens of monsters?”
“No, milord!”
“Then…?”
“Hundreds! There are at least several hundred monsters out there!”
The Baron huffed in disbelief. Even a few dozen would be enough to devastate the territory. But hundreds?
“…We’ll have to ask the neighboring lords for help. Tell all the townsfolk to evacuate. Gather every soldier here.”
“But we have to run away!”
“If we flee, the women, the children—the townsfolk—will be slaughtered. Someone must stay and fight to the end, don’t you think?”
The Baron sighed thinly, but his voice rang with iron conviction.
Rom saw this and nodded, not a hint of complaint, simply picking up his spear in understanding.
“I’ll prepare to face them,” Rom said.
“Good. And make sure the guests are evacuated as well.”
“Yes, Father.”
The Baron tore his gaze from Rom and turned to me. “Young Lord, my apologies. It seems we’ll have to postpone the business of Mithril until later.”
“…”
“Still, if the other lords come to our aid, we should be able to wipe out this army of Gnolls without much trouble. Then, things will turn out just as you hoped.”
The Baron smiled bitterly as he continued. “There’s nothing I can offer in exchange, but would you grant this old man a single favor?”
“…What is it?”
“Please, will you save the people of the Barony? If the monsters are all slain and gone, I hope you’ll look after the people here. Will you accept this request?”
I examined the Baron.
He had already resigned himself to death. His eyes were resolute, and his aged body was braced with determination.
Just then, I felt Roxen’s gaze on me. It was the look of a man silently begging for help.
The other squad members were no different. Every one of them looked ready to spring into action the moment I so much as twitched.
Honestly, what a bunch of disgustingly good-hearted fellows.
“…All right. I’ll save them,” I answered.
“Thank you. Truly, thank you.” Only then did the Baron finally relax, nodding in relief.
I regarded the Baron with casual indifference, then turned to issue orders to my squad.
“Special Taskforce, prepare for battle. Our opponents are a horde of monsters. I trust you can keep yourselves alive?”
“Oh, isn’t that obvious? I was just waiting for you to say the word.”
“…I’ll survive if that’s what you wish, Young Master.”
“As expected of my liege. Always a cut above.”
“Eek…!”
Ah, except Hans. What could a coachman do here, anyway?
I waved Hans away, signaling for him to sit this one out. His face brightened, and he hurried off to join the refugees.
If anyone could shepherd them to safety, it was Hans. He might be the weakest among us in a fight, but in every other respect, he was second to none.
Meanwhile, the Baron seemed confused. He asked, “Why are you helping us?”
He must have assumed I’d be the first to run for the hills. And, to be fair, there was no real reason for me to risk my neck for this place.
No matter how marvelous Mithril might be, it’s still not quite as precious as one’s own life.
But that was only true for ordinary people.
The moment I resolved to take revenge, my life stopped mattering all that much. Right now, getting my hands on Mithril as soon as possible was the only thing that counted.
And besides, I can’t afford to lose Roxen’s trust.
I shot a sidelong glance at Roxen.
Sure enough, Roxen was looking at me with boundless loyalty.
Of course, if I broke my promise to take him to the Demonic Realm, he’d betray me faster than you could say “fine print.” But as long as I kept my word, he’d be loyal to the end.
That alone was reason enough to fight here.
Not that I think I’ll lose, anyway.
It wasn’t as if a Gnoll or a Kobold could possibly be a match for me.
Hadn’t my Aura increased lately?
As a mid-level Aura Expert archer, I was probably better than most knights.
I stretched with a groan, working out the kinks, and grabbed the bow slung across my back.
Then, I tossed a light comment to the Baron. “Let’s just say I’ve taken a shine to this domain.”
“…I’m sorry?”
“Let’s save the rest for later. I need to check how many troops we actually have.”
I gave the Baron a quick nod and moved off with my squad.
Our destination: the patrol sector where the monster army had appeared.
It was a wide, open plain.