Chapter 352 - He Felt at Peace

Krang found this a novel experience. 'Is this what it feels like to have a knight escort you?' Here was a peace he had never once known in all his travels across the continent, despite facing more assassination attempts than ever before. The attack by the men posing as merchants had been stopped before it even began, but that was not the end. Afterward, they entered the city of Midpool. "Thank you. Thank you!"

The landowner's son wept with joy. Despite the pain in his mangled ankle, he acted as though he might kiss the ground. Not that he actually pressed his face into the filth-covered earth. He was simply that happy. It was a natural reaction after his brush with death and the tense journey that followed. "Even if he had been an assassin, he wouldn't have gotten any of them."

Krang's guard spoke as he watched the young man. "I agree."

Krang nodded, keeping his voice low. They had said the assassins' guild would frame them for murder if they harmed the landowner's son or ignored him and passed him by. That meant the young man was probably unconnected to the assassins. Yet none of them had let their guard down. That was the point Krang's guard was making. Throughout the journey, the landowner's son had been kept at the center of the party, where he could accomplish nothing even if he tried something. They also kept him well away from Krang, and Encrid had searched his clothing while treating him. The search was thorough, yet the man being searched had barely been able to register it. What thoughts could a man have when his foot had nearly been severed and the pain hurt like hell? Enduring that pain with composure would have been suspicious in itself. An ordinary person could not remain calm with such an injury. No one could fault someone fainthearted for dissolving into tears and snot, hysterically begging to be saved. Even with the courage to bear it, remaining composed through something he had never experienced before would have been a tall order. Encrid's party had kept watch over him all the way to Midpool. Midpool was distinguished by its oddly shaped walls, built of stones in assorted colors after repeated alterations and repairs. Perhaps that was only natural, since Naurilian cities generally considered it a virtue to imitate the capital's walls. Those walls truly were an imposing sight. With monsters and demonic beasts roaming rampant across the continent, even bandits could not travel in small groups. Thus, there were no isolated homes or little villages. Humans had to build great cities to survive. That was how humanity had developed. Construction techniques had advanced by leaps and bounds as a consequence, and Midpool bore clear signs of that progress. Even now, workers were joining and stacking stones in front of one existing wall to raise a new one. "You have my deepest thanks!" As the city had grown around the surrounding farmland, its lords had been great landowners for generations. The lord who ruled the wider region, meanwhile, owned more land than anyone else in the kingdom and was known as the Marquis of Fertile Lands. The great landowner under the marquis's authority expressed his gratitude, and there was some back-and-forth over his invitation. Then Encrid put an end to it with a single remark. "What if we were the ones who trapped your son and staged all this? Would you still invite us?"

The words made the landowner back off. Men with that much land were far from naive. He understood that these people would not accept his hospitality. Perhaps, deep down, he even agreed with Encrid. "I will repay this debt someday."

The landowner withdrew. He would hunt down the group that had targeted his son and anyone involved, borrowing the marquis's power if necessary. That was none of Encrid's concern. The party then took rooms at an inn, where their food arrived laced with poisonous powder. "It's poisoned."

The man named Jaxon identified it at once, foiling yet another assassination attempt. Afterward, as they headed to another restaurant, someone threw a dagger from deep inside an alley. Naturally, it was poisoned, but Encrid caught it in a gloved hand and sent it back. At twice its original speed, of course. "Ghk."

A death rattle came from within the alley. "Why even bother if you can't dodge your own damn dagger?"

The man named Rem grumbled. He seemed thoroughly annoyed by the attackers coming at them from every direction. They attacked whenever there were fewer people around. Rem assembled his sectional short spear, laid it across his shoulders, and draped his arms over it. His posture looked careless, but it was anything but. When a poisoned dart actually came his way, he simply bent sideways at the waist without changing his stance and knocked it aside with the butt of the shaft. The ratlike assassins kept throwing and hiding. Rem could not be bothered to chase down every last one. Understandably so. They continued their harassment with dogged persistence. Just when they were about to forget, another poisoned dagger would come flying. Not only daggers, either: bolts and darts were mixed in. The attackers did not confine themselves to Krang, targeting different members of the party, but to no avail. It accomplished nothing. Others occasionally rushed them outright. These were no skilled assassins, merely gangs of vagrants. The absence of isolated homes meant people had to crowd into cities, and large populations of vagrants were a problem in every major city. Some of those vagrants attacked them. Naturally, that accomplished nothing either. CRACK. SNAP. THUD. The man named Ragna stepped forward and politely sent them on their way with his fists and feet. "He's a monster!"

One of the vagrants fled shouting, but no one in the party pursued them. "They were probably paid a few Krona. The poison would have been handled the same way."

Jaxon said the inn's serving girl had poisoned their food, but Encrid did not question her. Jaxon had advised him there was no need. "It's a common trick. They tell someone it's medicine rather than poison and have them sprinkle it on the food." Krang listened closely. He had never heard of this method. Once, a particularly vicious poison had nearly killed him, and he had never even known when he had been poisoned. There had been no one to suspect. Was this why? It seemed likely. "People tend to accept it if someone claims to be a member of the family or someone's betrothed, secretly following the party. Since they can't fool us, they deceive someone else—someone we wouldn't suspect—and use them. They probably said they were worried about the strain of the journey and asked her to add some beneficial medicine to the food. But secretly, of course. We mustn't find out they're following us. Something like that." It was a paltry trick, but an effective one. What if the serving girl or innkeeper stole some of the powder and took it themselves? Would the assassins' guild give a damn? They would simply provide a poison that caused convulsions a day later rather than acting immediately. Fortunately, if that was the word for it, the innkeeper and serving girl were honest. They had kept none of the powder, sprinkling all of it over the food. That explained the serving girl's furtive glances at the party when she brought their meal. Encrid's looks, and those of his companions, would have drawn her eye as well, of course. Keeping their hoods up indoors would only have attracted more attention, so they openly showed their faces. Naturally, that drew people's gazes. Their attitude also made it clear that they did not give a damn about being watched by pursuers, which wounded a few assassins' pride. The result was this. "Above."

With Jaxon's warning, an attacker dropped onto them from overhead in a somewhat secluded spot. They were still on their way to another restaurant after finding it difficult to eat at the inn. By now, they could have stocked a market stall with all the daggers thrown at them. Rem, Encrid, and Ragna moved at once. Their weapons slashed overhead, cutting the descending Fairy assassin into six pieces. Blood sprayed like rain across the ground. Entrails, flesh, severed arms and legs pattered onto the alley floor. Had they wielded their weapons like this in the middle of the main street, the carnage would have brought guards running immediately. "Ghk."

That death rattle was his last word. His face, its skin so pale it reflected the moonlight, struck the filthy ground. Several more ambushes followed, but somehow... "They all fall before they can even begin."

It was just as the guard said. That was how it looked to Krang, too. As if that were not enough... "One moment."

The man named Jaxon briefly left them, and the attacks dwindled markedly. Meanwhile, Encrid found a restaurant. "They say the roast chicken here is excellent." "Hm?"

Krang tilted his head. Was this really the time to be looking for good food? "Don't like chicken?"

Encrid asked in return. Of course he did. It had simply been so long since he had eaten a proper meal. After so much poisoned food, he had come to eat solely to survive, not for the taste. With those thoughts, Krang entered the restaurant. "Please be careful."

Even as he spoke, the guard made no attempt to stop his master. At this point, even he thought it would be safe to eat anything. And so Krang did. For the first time in ages, he ate until he had to loosen his belt. The restaurant served only roast chicken, but its method of cooking was superb. A whole chicken was threaded onto a long spit and roasted over a wood fire. The spits were stood around the flames and turned slowly for at least half a day. It was a dish that took a great deal of time. "The recipe goes back to my grandfather's day. It's my pride and joy."

The cook, who also owned the restaurant, was proud of his work. Rightly so. The chicken melted in the mouth. Over the salt, pepper, and other spices was a thin coating of sauce that mingled with the crisp skin to produce a meal better than many a lord's. When Krang dug in his fork and cut, the firm yet tender meat came neatly away. He kept putting morsels into his mouth. "Have you been starving for days? You've certainly got an appetite."

The owner brought him juice made from some fruit, a concoction he claimed to have developed himself. It, too, tasted superb. Sweetness and tartness mingled to cleanse the grease from his mouth. When people lived densely packed into cities, cooking was one of the things that developed most. A city was, by its nature, a place where goods from the surrounding area converged, so there was a wide variety of ingredients. An agricultural city like Midpool was also well suited to raising livestock. That was probably why the city's walls were constantly being extended and its area kept growing. Although they maintained village facilities outside the walls under military protection, they could not raise livestock that way. Not everyone could be a fighter who slaughtered monsters and demonic beasts like the Shepherds of the Wastes. Naturally, cattle, horses, chickens, and sheep were raised within the walls. Among the vagrants, some even shared their cramped living quarters with a few animals. Livestock helped keep them warm in winter, too. For those reasons, chickens, at least, were readily available in the city. That was how many they raised. In a city where farming was the main livelihood and the people at the top ran things properly, using surplus grain to raise livestock was only natural. Hence restaurants like this one. "Let's kidnap the cook."

Rem offered the highest praise, terrifying the cook as he brought out a dish accompanied by roast potatoes. "What? A great landowner has money in this restaurant. Don't you go trying anything."

Landowners held the highest authority in this city. Encrid calmed him down, explaining that it had been a joke. At some point, the fellow named Jaxon had returned and was now eating a chicken leg. "You damn alley cat, must you creep around like that?" "You're simply slow."

Those two were always bickering. Outside, the wild horse was tearing into chicken despite being a horse. "That's not a demonic beast, is it?"

A boy covered in freckles who worked at the restaurant asked. He looked frightened. "He doesn't bite."

Encrid offered that reassurance, but naturally, the boy went nowhere near the wild horse called Odd-Eyes. How many people would want to approach a horse that crunched through chicken bones along with the meat? "Let's have a drink," Rem said. "We'll have some now and take some with us."

Encrid agreed. Scattered across separate tables, they looked like a disorderly lot without a shred of military discipline. On the surface, at least. Not one of them had let down their guard. As Krang saw, heard, and experienced all this, he felt at peace. Their nonchalance made him feel that way. So he ate his chicken and had a glass of cherry wine. The wine had a distinctive flavor and aroma—so distinctive that, without these companions, he might have suspected poison. There was none. "Could I buy a few bottles of this?"

Encrid bought some wine, and the well-fed party returned to the inn. "Sleep well."

After brief goodnights, Krang washed, used a tool with a thin brush to clean his teeth and remove the meat caught between them, then rinsed his mouth with water mixed with cheap salt. The bed, stuffed with cotton rather than straw, spoke to the city's wealth. A night spent in a bed that was neither scratchy nor hard. If that was not precious, what was? "I can hardly believe it."

His guard spoke, and Krang agreed. They passed the night, and, remarkably, there were no more attackers. 'It's because that red-haired fellow disappeared earlier.' Krang's insight let him see the situation clearly. The attacks had ceased after the man named Jaxon slipped away. What had he done? Krang found himself curious, but he would not ask. One look was enough to tell him that this was not a man who would answer merely because someone asked. They left the city, and the assassins continued their desperate flailing. Yes, that was all it was. "You shall not pass!"

A man claiming to be a former arena champion challenged them. "I'll do it."

The Beastman named Dunbachel stepped forward and smashed his face with her knee. She knocked his spear away with her scimitar, then rushed straight in. Pushing off with her left foot, she drove her right knee upward. It was excellent unarmed technique. The champion collapsed with his face caved in. "Where's this arena? Do they only let chicks fight there?"

The Beastman swept a glare over the assembled men as she spoke. They scattered and fled. The weather was so clear that the raging storm might never have happened. The party all rode at a moderate pace. Conserving the horses' strength was actually the faster way to travel. Coaxing them along at a steady pace without exhausting them was a basic principle of traveling on horseback. Then an arrow suddenly whistled toward them. It was aimed straight at Krang, and, naturally, Encrid snatched it out of the air. SMACK.

The shaft quivered. Krang found himself facing the trembling arrow stopped before him, but he was not particularly startled. It had been stopped. All was well. Holding the shaft, Encrid looked into the distance and spoke. "This one looks like the real thing." The clumsy tricks were over. The enemy's last resort was long-range sniping, and this appeared to be a proper archer rather than some amateur. Krang had not seen it, but Encrid had spotted a distant rider loosing the arrow and galloping away. Could they catch the archer on horseback? No, that would be difficult. Then what? All they could do was knock aside every arrow that came their way. The assassins had vanished, replaced by a mounted archer. The enemy's new move was that much trickier to deal with. Even so, it was no threat. That was Krang's conclusion. Even if dozens, hundreds of arrows came flying, he would not die. Not with Encrid protecting him at his side. That was why he felt at peace. The distant mounted archer posed no threat. Besides... NEIGH. The wild horse whinnied and approached Encrid. "You want to go catch him?"

Hearing Encrid's reply, Krang suspected they would not leave the archer alone, either.