Chapter 359 - Jaxon Bensino

“The capital’s biggest problem right now is factionalism. And the factions that have been fighting among themselves are now preparing for outright war.” Andrew explained what he knew, and Encrid pieced it together with what Rem had told him. [“Nothing worth buying. They’re all selling scrap, more or less.”]

That was Rem’s assessment after looking around the capital’s markets. There were plenty of people and goods, but whenever he asked to buy something, the answer was: [“Sorry. Someone from such-and-such a house has already ordered that.”] They were being treated as military supplies. Weapons and food were no longer circulating freely. What did that mean? ‘They must be stationing their own armies nearby.’

They would watch events unfold from within the capital, then summon their troops inside if things went against them. The problem was that none of this had the Queen’s approval. “Even the Royal Guard has split into several factions. And that’s led to some absurd things.” “Absurd things?”

Echoing the phrase back to ask what he meant was a habit of Encrid’s. He always did his best to be an attentive listener. Andrew continued without pause. “Yes, absurd. They’re assassinating each other, and some fellow calling himself an Inquisitor is hauling people away at random as heretics. Lately, there have even been animal cries at night, and someone goes missing every few days.” “This is the capital.” “Yes, it is. I know. It’s a big city. So big that disappearances are fairly common. But there have been an unusual number of them. And there’s no commander to investigate the assassinations or the other incidents. The defense captains at the gates are doing what they can, but how much can they accomplish with their hands tied?” Encrid folded his arms. Across the worn table, Andrew’s face was flushed. This was hardly something he could discuss calmly. Encrid addressed that flushed face. “And with all that going on, someone of royal blood has come here?” “It’s like setting oil alight. It’s given the faction nobles, who’d been watching and waiting, a reason to draw their swords. I do know his purpose. He said he would end the factional fighting, and that was why he came to the capital.” End the fighting? That raised an obvious question.

“How?”

Encrid simply wanted to know how he intended to do it. Andrew raised both hands and shrugged.

“I don’t know how.” Krang would take care of his own affairs. What, then, should Encrid do? What had he looked forward to most when he decided to come to the capital? ‘Will I have to leave without meeting a single Knight?’

A chance to fight, to train, to open his eyes. That was it. Listening quietly to Andrew, he realized that the people each faction’s nobles had kept hidden would come out into the open too. They would attack, looking for a fight. They would fight with their lives on the line. At the thought, his anticipation stirred and stretched. Just as teaching the trainees had brought him new insights, going into the palace would offer new opportunities. When thinking things through yielded no answer, sometimes it was right simply to follow his heart. That was what Encrid did. He would stand beside a friend he liked and dance with his blade. Taking someone’s warning into account, he decided to do just that.

Was this an impulsive decision? “What’s got you thinking so hard?”

Rem asked from beside him. Whatever Encrid decided, this fellow would take it in stride. “I was thinking I might cut off the Queen’s head and become one of those faction nobles myself.”

He said the first thing that came to mind. “What, you want a fight? Good. Sounds good.”

All this lunatic seemed to have heard was the part about fighting. Rem, through and through. “What did you just...?” “A joke.”

After reassuring the startled Andrew, Encrid began putting his plans into some rough order. Just then, he felt something chilling brush his back. He turned naturally. In a corner of the drawing room, Jaxon leaned against a pillar, half hidden in shadow. “Hey, want to take a walk?”

One look at his eyes suggested that leaving him alone would lead to trouble. When had Encrid last seen that look? When things between Jaxon and Rem had reached a breaking point, just before Jaxon drew his sword in earnest. In other words, he looked ready to draw his sword right now. Why, all of a sudden? Had Jaxon been attacked too? No, it was something else. Encrid knew that instinctively. ‘He said he needed to come to the palace.’

That had to be it. “Very well.”

Jaxon answered and headed outside. Was it Encrid’s imagination, or did he look as though he were suppressing some impulse? “Is he on some fucking drug?” Rem muttered. “I’m heading out.”

Encrid followed Jaxon. They left the house and walked through the shadows. A gust of wind tousled their hair. Soon they were walking side by side. Encrid nodded as he looked at the moonlight, the starlight, and the glow of a brazier in the distance. They were walking along the mansion wall on the dark road. “There’s something I must do.”

Jaxon spoke first. “Mm. All right.”

Encrid nodded. Whatever it was, Jaxon would handle it himself. “To accomplish it, I have to do something else first. But I’m finding it rather difficult to bring myself to do it.” “You’re having doubts?”

That hardly seemed like Jaxon. Encrid thought for a moment. He had come out because he sensed that Jaxon had something to say, but was there anything he could do for him? “It involves killing someone,” Jaxon said. Right. Well, of course it did. The air about him made that all the more likely. So what should Encrid say?

After some thought, he opened his mouth. “Good luck.” Jaxon was hardly the sort to ask for help in the first place, and he could manage most things on his own. There was really only one thing to say. Encrid nodded and patted his shoulder. After a couple of pats, Encrid turned away, thinking that Jaxon’s eyes seemed calmer than before. He meant to go back inside. Jaxon stopped in his tracks at the sight. He watched his captain’s back as it moved through the moonlight and starlight. ‘I knew he wasn’t normal.’

The thought struck him afresh. He was offering encouragement at a time like this? ‘Because he believes in me?’

Was it faith? Trust? Was that why? Doubt returned to Jaxon’s eyes. As he walked, Encrid was thinking. When Rem or Ragna caused trouble, it became a public affair. Not Jaxon. The others didn’t call him a Sneaky alley cat for nothing. He would do what he had to do, quietly and discreetly. That was what Encrid thought. Jaxon spoke to his retreating back.

“An enemy. And revenge.”

His voice was just loud enough to reach Encrid’s ears. “What?”

Encrid turned. He was always a good listener, whatever the subject. This was no different. He turned fully to face Jaxon, his posture seeming to ask whether he really intended to talk. When Jaxon merely looked at him in silence, Encrid naturally headed toward two stones beside the wall. He sat down, took out some seasoned jerky, and unhooked a flask from his waist. Was he thoroughly prepared, or was it coincidence? The flask smelled of liquor. Not something sweet like apple wine, but strong brandy. Jaxon took the flask and swallowed a mouthful. The hot liquid went down, then sent a surge of heat from his stomach back up to his throat. It was potent liquor. Of course, Jaxon wouldn’t get drunk. He had chewed poisonous herbs since childhood to build his resistance. A body that could withstand poison would not succumb to alcohol. Suddenly, he remembered the days when he had chewed those herbs, swallowed them, and endured. What had driven him to bear it all? It had begun with death. The deaths of his family, his parents, everyone he knew. He had witnessed death and made it his weapon. That was the path he had lived. Encrid took the flask back, drank a mouthful, and asked,

“Who’s your enemy?” “There was a secret society called the Black Lily.”

Jaxon began his story calmly. Simply, as though there were no sorrow in it at all.

* * *

His father had been cruel, his mother merciless. [“Stab even a friend in the back if you must.”]

His father had said that. It had become his last words. Jaxon had lived by them ever since. He would stab anyone in the back if necessary. [“You’re a vicious little bastard.”]

Then he had met his master. He had been through much. Before he knew it, his standing had changed. He had lived chewing poisonous herbs and covering his body in blade scars. The path he had walked was drenched in blood. No, he had forged a path out of blood and walked it. He had walked on and on. Jaxon had been the son of a noble house. Jaxon Bensino. That was his name. The Bensinos had been a fairly influential noble family. They had entered the trading business and prospered greatly, but his father had wanted greater success still. Had that been his mistake? Jaxon didn’t know. He decided not to concern himself with right and wrong. He set himself a simple, clear goal.

He would have his revenge. He would kill everyone involved. [“Hey, you’ll die young at that rate.”]

His master reproached him for it. Jaxon didn’t listen. He followed his one path without wavering. [“When are you going to turn into a proper human being?”] [“Is that any way for the head of an assassins’ guild to talk?”]

He remembered his master chuckling at that answer. [“Yes, get angry instead. That’s better to see.”]

Pointless talk. His goal was clear. He gathered information and investigated. His family had fallen. Had a string of misfortunes brought them down? Not a chance. Someone had engineered it. Jaxon decided to hold that person accountable. That was how he found the name.

Black Lily. The name of a secret society. What had they come together to do? Line their own pockets. Some had risen up against a vicious lord and become bandits. Another had become a noble in some country. Others had vanished like smoke. The first man Jaxon found had lost everything, thrown his life into the gutter, and sunk to the bottom. [“Why did you do it?”]

He wanted to know. They had ruined a family and devoured several trading companies. Many people had died because of the Black Lily. There had to be a reason. [“A reason? Fuck that.”]

The fallen man of power cackled. [“Do you know how much there was to make by carving up the Bensino family? You fucker. Everyone gets by screwing someone else over.”] The man had given up everything, even his attachment to his own life. Wouldn’t giving him death be a kindness? Would sending him to hell earn his gratitude instead? Simply slitting his throat would be a blessing. Jaxon didn’t want that. He didn’t kill him himself. Instead, he severed the tendons in all four limbs and dumped him in a beggars’ den. Four days later, the man was torn apart alive. That year’s drought had people killing over a handful of wheat. When even a root of grass was precious, he could never have survived in a beggars’ den. The dead man’s last words lingered in Jaxon’s ears. Everyone got by screwing someone else over. That man was his cruel father’s friend. No, had been. [“Just keep looking ahead. There’s no need to look back.”]

His merciless mother’s words remained in his heart as well. Was anything permissible in pursuit of a goal? If that was what it took, he would do it. He spent several more years searching for the Black Lily’s ringleaders. In the meantime, his master died. He would never understand his master’s dying words. So he forgot them. He did not recall them. He buried them. [“Stab even a friend in the back if you must.”]

[“Just keep looking ahead.”]

Instead, he dwelled on his father’s and mother’s words. The two tangled and mingled in his mind. [“Everyone gets by screwing someone else over.”]

The dead man’s words joined them. After that, he killed four of the Black Lily’s ringleaders. Only when he began searching for the fifth did he learn that one among them had specifically targeted the Bensino family. His true enemy, perhaps. He knew neither the name nor the identity. A few clues and a chain of deductions had led him to Abnaire. Abnaire had told him to go to Naurilia’s royal palace, and Jaxon had come. While Encrid was being attacked and Rem, Dunbachel, and Ragna were wandering the markets complaining that everything on sale was rubbish, Jaxon entered a mansion in the residential district. Cobwebs filled the old mansion, with little sign that anyone lived there. Inside, he saw the person who had lured and summoned him there: a white-haired man wearing a monocle. He was thin and held a sword cane, his eyes so small and narrow that their expression was hard to read. Jaxon knew at a glance. One of his kind. The same profession. [“You’re from Georg’s Dagger, I take it?”]

The man identified his background. Naturally. Jaxon had deliberately leaked that information to get this far. Georg’s Dagger was the foremost assassins’ guild, operating across the entire continent. Yet the man showed no fear. Because he trusted his own abilities? No. Because he believed he had found Jaxon’s weakness. [“I know what you’re looking for,”] the white-haired fellow assassin said. [“What?”]

Jaxon asked. His brown eyes, showing occasional glints of red in the darkness, seemed to drink in the shadows. [“You’re the legitimate son of the Bensino family, aren’t you?”]

Ah, yes. He ought to have figured out that much. [“I’ll give you all the information you want. Everything. Whatever you ask.”]

Jaxon waited for what came next. [“In return, stab that man.”]

Which man? There was no need to ask. The man with black hair and blue eyes. The commander of his unit. [“Encrid. Stab him.”]

A commission to stab the man he called Captain. The payment was the information he had spent his life searching for.

* * *

Encrid sat gazing silently at the moon. The flask shifted in his hand, its contents sloshing. Watching him, Jaxon spoke of revenge and his enemies. He told him that one of them was inside the palace, and that he would have to go in himself to find them. He left out his meeting with the white-haired fellow assassin. “All right. Let’s find them.”

Encrid spoke without a trace of a smile. He wasn’t joking. He meant it. His words were sincere. Jaxon could see his determination to help. This man would do exactly that. Unless Jaxon refused, he would help. He would truly do his utmost. Jaxon knew it. That was the kind of man he was. But could effort alone find someone who had eluded him through all those years of searching? An easy path lay before Jaxon. The words of his father, his mother, and the first enemy he had killed crossed in his mind. [“Stab even a friend in the back if you must.”]

[“Just keep looking ahead. There’s no need to look back.”]

[“Everyone gets by screwing someone else over.”] It was the path Jaxon had walked all this time. A path drawn in blood, with blades and poison. All he had to do was walk it the same way once more.