Inside the carriage heading North.
“…It’s damn cold.” I shivered, pulling the collar of the coat Father had specially packed for me.
This cursed carriage had many good points, but just as many problems.
It offered absolutely no protection against the cold. No matter how much straw I added, my backside ached as if it would split. Worse still, the straw kept poking me. and I was starting to get annoyed.
I’d rather ride a horse.
I was riding in the carriage to maintain appearances. But the moment I reached the North, I swore to not even look at it.
Anyway…
“It’s been a long time here,” I muttered, lost in memories as I looked out the window.
In truth, I didn’t have many memories to speak of. After all, I had only come here during the war to secure food supplies.
Before my regression, Hera Artezia had ordered me to procure my own rations, then cut off supplies.
I’d assumed the Artezia family simply lacked food, but looking back, it seemed they were already planning to kill me from that point.
I wondered why they didn’t just assassinate me.
But then again, they probably didn’t because they didn’t know when our House might turn against them.
They were transparent bastards, alright. Well, I was in no position to talk, having fallen for their deception.
In any case…
Once we got past Gremlin’s Knoll, lying ahead of us, the North would soon be in sight.
Sure enough, the coachman swiveled his head around, poking his face through the window to announce, “Young Master, the North is just past here.”
“I know.”
“Haha, truly, there’s nothing the Young Master doesn’t know. Then I’ll make sure you’re comfortable for the rest of the ride.” The man clearly thought he was an expert behind the reins.
“Hmm… it’s not comfortable at all, though.”
I let out a dry chuckle. His bold claim of giving me a “comfortable ride” would’ve made a coachman from any other noble house flare up in outrage and challenge him to a wager over their pay.
“Just get going. It won’t do to be too late.”
“Ahhh! But of course, milord.” The coachman gestured in understanding and tightened his grip on the reins.
Unlike the other attendants, the coachman wasn’t afraid of me. If anything, he treated me with a strange sort of familiarity.
“Well… I suppose I can’t blame him,” I murmured.
I leaned back in my seat with my legs crossed, idly tapping the window. The sun was setting outside, and it was getting dark.
True to its moniker, Gremlin’s Knoll, the guttural snarls and grunts of Goblins began to creep up from all directions.
“It’s about to start,” I muttered calmly.
After a while, the carriage began to lurch.
“Whoa—hey!”
The coachman's panicked voice rang out from the driver's seat. The carriage swayed sharply, as if it had lost its balance, then veered off course and slammed into a nearby tree.
Crash!
The entire carriage flipped, its wheels spinning helplessly in the air.
“Young Master, are you all right?!” The coachman rushed over, shouting frantically.
The carriage still groaned with the aftershock of the crash, and from the looks of it, no one inside could’ve survived. The coachman’s face twisted in anguish.
“Oh no! Young Master!”
“Why are you calling?”
The coachman whipped around in shock.
There I stood, completely unharmed. A cigarette in one hand, a bow in the other.
* * *
I’m going to be late.
I glanced up at the sky with a soft sigh. Despite my best efforts to reach the North on time, there was no saving the schedule now. The carriage was half-destroyed, too.
All that patience spent enduring the miserable ride, wasted.
“Tch. What a mess,” I muttered, brushing off the twigs and dust clinging to my clothes.
The coachman hurried over, clearly worried. “Young Master! Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you hurt anywhere else?”
“Why? Hoping I am?”
“Huh? N-no! Of course not!” The coachman flailed, caught off guard.
I sighed quietly and reached for my belt. I swiftly drew my short spear—and plunged it into the coachman’s neck.
Thurk.
“AGHH!” He clutched his throat and collapsed from the unexpected attack, writhing.
I gazed down at him with pity.
“Such terrible acting. I don’t know which troupe you’re from, but you should give up on the stage. Then again, since you’re about to die, I guess that’s settled.”
“GAH… Gaghhh…”
“How fortunate that I showed you the way. I’m sure your mother in heaven will thank me also.”
Splatter. I yanked the spear free and gave it a flick. Blood scattered like dew under the night sky.
“…Sticky as hell.” I wiped a smear off my cheek and rifled through the coachman’s belongings. Carrots, dried rations, candle wax, a whip...
What the hell was this guy into?
Well, not important. What mattered now was getting ready. For example—
“Dealing with that bunch over there,” I muttered, pulling out a pass marked with a snake insignia from the coachman’s coat.
As I turned my gaze, I found the attendants who had been traveling north with me, standing in the distance completely unharmed. Knights and servants. All glaring at me as they closed in.
“Didn’t think so many would show up.”
I gave a dry chuckle and took a long drag from my cigarette. Then I tossed the snake-etched pass toward them and said flatly, “Come at me, all of you. I’m short on time.”
With that, I nocked an arrow to my bow.
The snake insignia—it was the symbol of House Artezia.
* * *
When I first faced Raon, I had one goal: purge the spies from my family.
As a result of acting with that one conviction, to my relatives, I became the good-for-nothing who got lucky defeating Raon, and an idiot who couldn’t even complete basic stamina training.
That worked in my favor. Made it easier for the others to approach me, thinking they could eliminate me.
And right on cue, they made a move.
I exhaled smoke and watched them come.
Inside the family estate, under watchful eyes, they wouldn’t have dared touch me. But hearing I was heading North with a skeleton crew, they must’ve seen it as their golden chance.
Every single knight and servant sent to assist me had turned out to be a spy.
“They really acted just as I’d hoped.”
I let out a low chuckle and drew the string of my bow. Some of them, remembering my fight with Raon, hesitated—but not for long. Their eyes sharpened, and they surged forward.
They didn’t care if a few of their own died, so long as I did. Such a stunning display of loyalty.
“So devoted. Guess I’ll have to send off every last one so you can keep serving in hell.”
Thunk.
I raised the bow skyward and loosed.
Whoosh!
Dozens of arrows shot into the night sky, circling for a moment.
Arrows don’t carry Aura. Even if they do, it’s only a trace amount—and the number of people who can actually wield that is even rarer than the Aura itself.
That’s the commonly accepted truth, and the reason archery is so often scorned among nobles.
But that rule didn’t apply to me.
“My friends. Ever heard of the Divine Archer?”
I dined with the man, even bathed with him! We’re close enough to do everything together, you ratass bastards!
With a faint laugh, I curled a finger toward the charging mob. The moment I did, the arrows began to fall like rain.
The scent of camellia filled the air.
Thunk! Crack! Fwoosh-fwoosh-fwoosh!
Under the moonlight, a hail of arrows tore through the Artezia spies, turning Gremlin’s Knoll into a slaughterhouse perfumed with blood and camellias.
“Aaargh…!”
“UGHH…!”
Most of them died instantly, arrows lodged in skulls and hearts. A few knights survived thanks to missed vitals.
“Just my luck.”
I slung my bow over my shoulder and approached. The survivors, bloodied and weeping, began to beg.
“Young… Young Master, please spare us.”
“W-we were wrong. Please have mercy…!”
I crouched in front of them and ground out my cigarette in the dirt.
Then with a faint smile, I whispered, “Spare you all…? Sure. I’ll spare you.”
“R-really?”
I nodded. Color returned to their faces.
“Thank you! Truly… thank you!” They bowed over and over, tears streaming.
I smirked, pulled out my short spear, and said, “No need to thank me, my good knights. You all will be begging to die soon enough.”
“…I’m sorry?”
I’d longed to kill them for so long—why make it quick?
Eyes cold, I raised the spear.
“Do try to last. I don’t want this over too fast.”
* * *
“…I think it was too fast, after all.” I clicked my tongue, staring at the corpses. Holes riddled their bodies.
How little they managed to endure… so much for knights.
I wiped my weapon on their uniforms and stood.
“It’s Gremlin’s Knoll, so I’ll say Goblins did it. And I barely made it out.”
If House Artezia learned I’d killed every last spy, they wouldn’t sit idle. They’d send even stronger ones next time.
Well… that was always going to happen eventually.
Still, that didn’t mean the moment had to come right now. Once I reached the level of Aura Adept, I’d be able to handle an Aura knight or two. Then…
Then I could use that technique again.
Lost in memories of the power I once wielded, I tucked my spear away and began collecting arrows—those scattered on the ground and those lodged in corpses.
I couldn’t afford to leave evidence. Arrow wounds would point directly to me. I needed to alter them, carve in something more misleading.
Ugh… What a damn pain.
I set about laboring with a sigh.
By the time I’d finished, the sun was rising.
Morning had already come.
“Damn it. Father’s going to be mad.”
I’d finally started shedding the image of a wastrel, and now I was late to meet my in-laws. I’d look like a lunatic no matter how I explained it.
“Ugh… that’s just my life.” I heaved another sigh.
But that aside…
“…How am I supposed to get to the North now?”
The carriage was in ruins. The horses were dead.
I sighed for the umpteenth time.
What else could I do? Since there were no horses, I had to travel on foot.
I started walking, muttering curses under my breath. Those scumbags just had to attack the carriage and horses, didn’t they?
Just one more day. That’s all it would take to reach the North.