Chapter 392 - Knowing Exactly What You Have

"I am guilty."

Aesia had to admit her wrongdoing. Even if Encrid shielded her and kept quiet, that would not erase what she had done. Nor did she believe that having her younger sibling taken hostage absolved her of her crimes.

It was all excuses and justifications. At least, that was how she saw it, and that made her guilty. When she said so, Krang replied,

"How about making amends through service? As I said, we need every helping hand we can get."

His tone suggested it was nothing of consequence. Was the situation so urgent that he had no choice?

Even so, Krang seemed almost excessively unconcerned. Did he not care who someone was as long as he needed them? No, that was not it. She sensed something akin to trust directed at her.

How could he trust her when, barely half a day ago, she had stood with those who betrayed him?

She did not even register the two marquises watching. Aesia opened her mouth.

"How can you trust me?"

She could not understand his attitude. Because she belonged to the Scarlet Cloak Knight Order? Was he truly that short of people? Because he needed one of the few fighters left in the palace? Because she was a proto knight? Aesia looked at Krang, and he smiled back.

"I trust this friend's judgment. I think that should suffice."

He pointed at someone as he spoke. That was all.

The person he pointed to, the one he called his friend, was Encrid. "There's a mountain of things to sort out. I'll see you again."

With that, Krang left. Once he was gone, Encrid asked,

"Want me to set your nose?"

He seemed utterly unconcerned by her betrayal. "It's already been set."

Looking him straight in the eye as she answered, she wondered,

'Does he know me that well?'

They had spent some time together, but not much. She did not think he knew why she had stood in his way. Nor did she want to explain that she had reluctantly blocked his path to protect her sibling. "See you later."

There was little else she could say. Her sibling's safety was urgent, so she had to leave. Fortunately, her sibling was unharmed. She had set off immediately, but her face was still a wreck. Her nose was swollen, and purple bruises covered her face. Pain throbbed in her chest whenever she ran, forcing her to clutch her side.

In that state, Aesia explained things to her sibling.

"I owe him a debt."

That was the conclusion she had reached after rescuing her sibling and coming here. Whatever lay behind it, he had shielded her and trusted her. She could not say everything had ended well, but for her, it could not have ended better. "You owe him for smashing your face in like that?"

Her sibling asked. The kidnapping had brought confusion and even despair, but now everything was fine. At least, it looked that way.

That composure was meant to spare her worry. She was deeply grateful for it. "Yes."

"If he beats you up twice, you'll be asking him to marry you."

"I'll have to consider it."

It was a silly joke. Even after having a life put in danger because of her, her sibling did not resent her.

Raised well.

Aesia could break her sword for her sibling's sake. That was why she did not regret her choice. Faced with the same situation again, she would still choose her sibling. She felt an urge to ask Encrid what he would do if she did it again.

Somehow, the answer seemed obvious. She barely knew him and had done nothing but receive his help, yet she felt as though she had already heard it.

"Then we just have to make sure that situation never happens."

She was right. In fact, Encrid was acting on that very thought. After she rescued her sibling and left, the sun set. She went home, washed, and tended her injuries.

"Be grateful for his generosity. You will not be given another chance to prove yourself by fighting on the right side."

The Marquis of Fertile Lands sent someone to deliver that message.

She had intended to do so without being told. She looked into who was behind the bastard who had taken her sibling hostage. Viscount Mernes had acted openly, but who had put him forward? GRIND.

Her teeth were loose, but she clenched her molars hard. At most, her injuries would be mostly healed in less than a fortnight. She only had to rest without stirring for that long. Then she would beg to be sent to the battlefield.

There, she would show the enemy who she was, and the price of touching her sibling.

Looking forward to that moment, Aesia stroked her sibling's head.

* * *

'I swear I'll avenge you, Lycanos.'

Lycanos had shared his dream, a comrade and younger brother who had been with him when the Black Blade Bandits first began. They shared no blood, but they had been family in every other sense. It was just before dawn. Everything around him looked blue. The man slipped out of the castle and headed for the north gate.

Getting out of the castle had been the hard part. It would be easy from here. No one would suspect him.

The tax collector had already died as Black Blade's leader. 'A useful tool right to the end.'

He walked briskly, dwelling on revenge. He had a plan, too.

'The secret vault.'

He had been accumulating wealth there for over ten years. The man was the tax collector's attendant, and Black Blade's true head. Once, he had taken up a sword alongside Lycanos for the persecuted and downtrodden.

Where Lycanos had proved himself through strength, he had brought the Black Blade Bandits this far through conviction and intellect. Of course, anyone would change once power and wealth stained them.

That change had brought him here.

That change had killed Lycanos.

That change had left him with nothing but wealth in his grasp, but realizing that was a distant prospect. 'I swear.'

He kept repeating his vow of revenge, but deep down, he knew. It was impossible in practical terms. How could he accomplish something that had failed even with noble backing and all the strength he had amassed, when he was now fleeing with barely his life?

He knew all of it. But nothing suited his need to justify running for his own life quite as well as a vow of revenge. In truth, Lycanos's death had made him fear for his safety, but it had not saddened him. He had become too different from the man he had once been for that.

'Once I get out of here.'

He would probably forget even his vow of revenge. He could take the wealth in his secret vault and live in exile in another country. Then he could play the noble himself.

Starting a trading company might be nice, too. Failing that, he could play the wealthy gentleman in some suitable city.

Without his noticing, the thing atop his shoulders had begun imagining yet another future. The man shook his head violently.

'No. I will have my revenge.'

In the end, he walked on, deceiving even himself. Dawn was beginning to break. The blue air around him grew peaceful, warmth seeping into it. He walked with the sunlight at his back. He was no longer dressed as an attendant. He had pulled up the hood of a filthy cloak and put on gaiters and the like, disguising himself as a hunter.

'Fucking idiots.'

They would never find him. When that bastard Jaxon had been pursuing him, he had truly felt as though he could barely breathe. As though a blade were pressed beneath his chin.

And now?

'I'm safe.' Of course, he had no intention of simply running away. He had caused havoc right to the end, ordering every remaining member of the Black Blade Bandits to set fires inside the palace.

The flames should be rising about now. He turned to look back. All was quiet. Even early risers would only just be waking, but he could see people who had stayed up through the night after the previous night's upheaval.

There had been no battles or brawls inside the capital, but chaos had erupted before the gates, and the commotion in the palace had planted anxiety in everyone's hearts.

Yet the flames that should have crowned it all were nowhere to be seen. 'Why?'

The question lasted only a moment. No, regardless of his questions, his feet kept moving. He left the alley and walked briskly until he reached the north gate.

"You there. A moment." A soldier leaning beside the wicket gate, helmet askew, called to him. The voice was thin and high. It sounded like a woman's.

"What is it?"

The man answered. The soldier removed the crooked helmet, and long blond hair fell free. A woman soldier. "Why do you keep looking back as you walk?"

Was that worth picking a fight over?

And in a situation like this, where was the north gate guard captain? Why was there only a single soldier here?

The leader of the Black Blade Bandits felt a sense of foreboding. Something in the air was wrong. His heart pounded with alarm. Then he looked past the woman. Several soldiers sat quietly dozing.

'Dozing?'

He immediately understood what was wrong. After last night's chaos, did it make any sense for the guards to be sitting around asleep? "Sorry, but there won't be any fires," the woman soldier said.

"... Who are you?"

"Georg's Dagger."

She answered with her arms folded. Her posture was utterly relaxed, which made it all the more ominous. Cold sweat trickled down his back. "You're late."

She spoke again, looking behind him. The leader flinched and turned.

There stood a man of striking appearance, with memorable reddish-brown eyes that betrayed no emotion.

"Good to meet you," he said. The leader thought this situation was a Ghoul's cock, and knew at once that he was fucked.

He cursed his own complacency in not carrying even a single scroll to help him escape. But if he had, he would never have made it this far. There was no way to conceal such a thing from the detection spells that filled the palace. All he had now was a single sword. He already knew his opponent could not be reasoned with. He had seen how the tax collector he had put forward had died.

His hands were trembling with fear. "You've had your fun all this time, haven't you? I think it's my turn now."

As Jaxon killed the tax collector, something had felt wrong. Could someone who had concealed his identity so thoroughly all this time really be caught so easily? Just then, Encrid had ordered an internal purge.

Civil war was coming. What took priority when preparing to fight?

Cleaning up their own surroundings. With blades flying at their backs, they would lose before they even began. Krang and both great nobles, the marquises, had agreed. Marcus had joined them along the way and helped spur things on.

Jaxon, too, had done what he needed to: finding the remnants and fucking them up.

During that process, a member of Georg's Dagger who had followed him joined in. He had told her there was no need to get involved, but she had refused to stand aside. "Master."

The woman spoke. She was Jaxon's lover and a member of Georg's Dagger. The title came naturally to her lips. Of course it did.

Jaxon was the master of Georg's Dagger, the assassins' guild hailed as the finest on the continent. "Will you return once this is over?"

She continued. His business here was finished now. That was her judgment.

"We'll talk later."

Jaxon answered. For now, the task before him came first.

* * *

Count Molsen had not been bluffing. Nor had he lied. He had sent troops to Border Guard.

Among them were over fifty Lycanthropes, monsters that transformed from humans into wolves. Their leader had killed people and chewed their flesh even when he was human. He had already been at the level of a proto knight then. Now, he possessed a monster's strength as well.

"Let's go chew on some tender flesh."

Cackling, he led the way. 'No one can stop us.'

He was certain of victory. No, his thoughts went further. The Lycanthrope unit he led would become a name of terror that ruled this entire region. The son of a bitch he had been as a human now truly had a dog's head. He raised his muzzle and howled.

AWOOOO!

Fifty Lycanthropes followed him, howling.

AWOOOOOO! A monster's cry instilled terror in humans, a fear etched into their instincts.

Yet the troops arrayed before Border Guard's gate remained composed.

Anything repeated often enough would lose its edge, and Border Guard's standing army had fought until they were sick of it. Aspen, monsters, Cultists, territorial armies, and more. All manner of bastards had targeted Border Guard with relentless persistence. There had been no respite, inside or out.

One day Cultists would attack the gate facing the kingdom's interior, and the next Aspen would strike from the other side.

These were the standing troops who had survived those experiences. The soldiers' hardened hearts were stout, and the city itself now had room to breathe. In the past, news of a battle alone would have kept trading companies away, made support precarious, and bred anxiety. "Do you not trust us? Or do you want us to die?"

Now the Roquefried trading company stood at the center of Border Guard's logistics. As soon as its merchants learned of the enemy invasion, they secured routes for distributing food and all manner of supplies. There were plenty of people nearby willing to help.

Of course, Count Molsen had pressured the surrounding nobles and cities in an attempt to isolate Border Guard. His warning was that anyone who helped would be next.

Even so, Martai and the city Encrid had saved from the Knoll colony lent their aid. The Roquefried trading company's accumulated reputation was considerable, too. As a result, the city's atmosphere was not particularly grim. In short, much had changed. Watching the fifty charging Lycanthropes from atop the wall, Krais needed to piss.

'Ugh, that's scary.'

Even so, he had to do what needed doing. If they lost the first battle, even the support they had would disappear.

That would not do. 'Whoever seizes the initiative wins.'

Their enemy was a great noble who oversaw this entire region: Count Molsen, the King of the Frontier.

"If all else fails, I'll take hostages."

Krais muttered it too quietly for anyone else to hear. He was keeping watch on Count Molsen's two children for precisely that eventuality. More accurately, he had had eyes on them for some time.

Who knew? There was no telling when or how they might prove useful.

Even so, he held little hope that hostages would work.

Hostages, against that Count Molsen?

Not a chance.

Still, that did not mean he could simply leave the two alone. He already had thirty-six ways to escape if things went wrong.

And before those thirty-six escape plans, Krais had come up with a hundred and seventy ways to win and hold out.

Of those, this was the most useful, sensible, and efficient opening move. "Will this be all right?"

Vengeance, now in charge of the missile troops atop the wall, asked beside him. Krais looked at the huge figure standing two heads taller than the other soldiers before the assembled troops and spoke.

"Of everything involved in strategy, tactics, and the art of war, what do you think should be considered first?" Vengeance thought for a moment before answering.

"... Hmm, morale?"

Morale, the spirit of the troops, mattered too. But something had to be considered before that.

"Knowing exactly what you have." It sounded vague, but in truth, it was simple. Making proper use of what you had came first.

How could you fight without even knowing what you possessed? Krais knew Audin. He did not know everything about him, but he knew Audin was not the sort to back down from a mere fifty Lycanthropes.

And Teresa was with him, the two of them known as the Bear Brother and Sister. That was why he had ordered them not to loose a single arrow. It had to be that way.

They had to break the enemy's pride in the first battle. Only then would Count Molsen give up on this place. Krais had finished his calculations.

And Audin, the result of those calculations, was raising his fist at a drooling Lycanthrope charging straight at him.