"Tarkiev!"
"Hm? What is it? Isn't that Bühne?"
"Bühne?"
"She's my half-sister."
The woman named Bühne was just as well-armed and eloquent as Tarkiev, but unlike those who had accompanied Kozel or Tarkiev before, the weapons of the people with her were lacking. They were equipped with nothing more than a longsword and hardened leather armor.
They didn't even have horses, so only Bühne was mounted while the others walked. Behind them was a cart that was clearly stolen from farmers.
'Why do these half-siblings act exactly the same?'
Azadin watched their reunion with disbelief.
"What happened, Tarkiev! What about the mercenaries that were with you?"
Bühne, another bastard child, approached Tarkiev while still on her horse. Since Tarkiev was also mounted, their horses' heads were close enough to touch.
"Well, that's…"
"Tarkiev, don't tell me you took care of Kozel?"
"Huh? Took care of Kozel? What are you talking about?"
"Haven't you heard? Kozel lost all his subordinates and got his thing cut off. It's causing a huge stir."
"What? Is that true? Ha!"
Tarkiev was delighted by the news. If Kozel, the legitimate son, had been castrated, the inheritance would naturally shift to the next able-bodied contender. That meant Tarkiev would become the heir of the family.
"Hah, so they say good things come to those who live righteously. I worked hard all this time, and now my ancestors have blessed me."
"..."
Azadin couldn't help but chuckle at that.
'Live righteously? These bastards are just saying whatever comes to mind now, huh?'
Just then, Bühne laughed.
"But what happened to the mercenaries your mother sent with you? Why are you alone?"
"Well, you see…"
At that moment, Bühne drew her sword. Without waiting for Tarkiev's answer, she swiftly unsheathed her blade and launched a surprise attack.
Tarkiev was caught completely off guard and was defenseless against the sudden ambush. But just then, the sound of something slicing through the air came from behind.
—Clang!
A stone struck the blade, deflecting it. Azadin, who had been wary of Bühne from the start, had thrown the stone to save Tarkiev.
'I had a feeling she was getting unnecessarily close.'
Since Azadin had been walking while holding the reins of a mountain goat, it had been easy for him to pick up a stone from the ground.
'No need to waste arrows on these nobodies.'
As a member of the Herald Clan, he was used to conserving his arrows, and he deemed these people unworthy of even a single shot.
"Ugh!"
Tarkiev reeled back in shock.
"Bühne! Were you trying to kill me?"
"Thinking about it, searching for the Book of the Divine King in some unknown location seemed like a waste. This is a much better option."
Bühne sneered.
"Damn it!"
Tarkiev drew his sword as well.
"Guys, attack!"
At Bühne's command, her subordinates charged forward.
***
Tarkiev was in shock that his supposedly close sister was attacking him out of ambition.
"Bühne! You're making a mistake. Do you know who I'm with right now?"
He spoke confidently and turned toward Azadin and his companions as if showing them off. But Azadin, Midiam, and Ishmael stood with their arms crossed, merely spectating.
"What are you doing, hyung-nim! You have to help me!"
Tarkiev shouted in panic while fending off the incoming attacks.
"I wanted to see your skills."
"Come on, this is too much!"
Tarkiev grumbled while struggling to defend himself from the assailants.
He seemed to be doing well, dodging attacks from four men and women while retreating, but in truth, the attackers were quite weak. Their coordination was sloppy, and Tarkiev, simply by being mounted, could hold them off just by defending.
'The ones who followed Kozel and this guy were skilled. These ones probably act tough around commoners, but compared to the Aragasa, they're laughably weak.'
Azadin assessed them coldly. Just then, one of the attackers rushed toward him. It seemed they wanted to disrupt Tarkiev by targeting Azadin, who was just standing and watching.
However, with a simple backstep, Azadin widened the gap between them. The speed difference was so overwhelming that they couldn't even hope to catch up.
"Midiam, Ishmael, you two handle them. Don't kill them. Let's see where your skills are at."
"Huh? Don't kill them? But they're swinging real swords at us."
"You can manage that much, right?"
"…Understood."
Ishmael stepped forward, drawing his short sword.
"You bastards…"
The man who had attacked Azadin trembled with humiliation when he saw a mere boy drawing his sword against him.
Ishmael feigned preparing to block the incoming longsword attack with his small blade.
"This brat is looking down on me?"
Enraged that Ishmael intended to block a longsword with a mere short sword, the man attacked with all his might. But that was exactly what Ishmael had been waiting for.
Using a switch step, Ishmael smoothly evaded the attack. Switching from a stance with his right foot forward to one with his left, he effortlessly sidestepped the blow and counterattacked from the side.
Since his physical strength was lacking and using magic would reveal his identity, he boldly opted for a different approach—stabbing the opponent in the inner thigh where their armor was weakest.
It wasn't a fatal wound, but if left untreated, they would bleed out.
'I've seen it before, but his skills really are impressive. This kid could easily become a herald.'
Despite being large and fast for his age, Ishmael didn't possess monstrous strength like Azadin. He couldn't knock out an opponent with a single hit. Instead, he made precise strikes.
It was a wound that wouldn't kill instantly but would make continued combat nearly impossible. If ignored, they would surely bleed to death.
Leaving such a wound required quick hands, anatomical knowledge, and a cold, calculating nature.
"Impressive."
Azadin praised him sincerely and turned to Midiam.
"Do I have to do it too?"
"Yes, I want to see your skills without magic as well."
Midiam had already demonstrated her powerful magic abilities. But how about other aspects?
"Alright. Since Azadin isn't alone anymore, I should…"
"What?"
"But isn't that the case? If Azadin has received the curse of service, then by now, inside your belly…"
"..."
"So that's why you're letting us handle the fight, isn't it?"
"No! What kind of horrifying thoughts are you having…?"
At that moment, Tarkiev let out a scream. He had been caught in the mercenaries' attacks and was thrown off his horse.
Since he had only been retreating and defending, it was bound to happen. In fact, the horse, which had been stepping backward so well while fending off enemies, could actually be considered quite the fine steed.
'Is he an idiot?'
Both his horse and armor were top-tier. If he had just trampled forward, those men and women armed with longswords wouldn't have stood a chance against him. But now that he had fallen…
Azadin sighed and intervened.
"This is as far as you go!"
"Who the hell are you?!"
The enraged swordsmen attempted to swing their blades, but Azadin grabbed their swords by the blade. A contest of strength ensued between the ones gripping the hilts and Azadin, who had seized the blades.
Logically, the ones holding the hilts should have had the advantage. However, with a slight twist of his grip, Azadin sent them crashing to the ground.
"Urgh!"
"Guh!"
The ones who had locked strength with Azadin instantly realized—this man possessed monstrous strength. His precision and focus were also on an entirely different level from theirs.
However, those who had yet to directly confront Azadin took him lightly since he hadn't even drawn his sword.
"Oh, look at this guy."
"He seems to know a thing or two."
"We've trained under real sword instructors, you know."
"We spent a fortune on our swordsmanship lessons."
They rushed at Azadin, but he effortlessly threw them to the ground one by one and confiscated their longswords. In the end, Azadin had slammed every single one of them into the dirt.
"Ugh… T-Thank you! You really are the best, hyung-nim!"
Tarkiev got up and expressed his gratitude to Azadin.
"Don't say that. I'd rather not have people thinking we're close."
"But haven't we become quite close now?"
"No, just… straighten out your behavior."
Azadin was fed up with the sons of Count Kazel, who had developed a habit of pillaging the common folk.
'How do these bastards normally live?'
Azadin, a member of the persecuted and godless Herald Clan, found it ironic—he had no place in the world, yet he still didn't want to be associated with these kinds of people.
"Damn it! Who the hell is this guy?!"
Bühne, infuriated, spurred her horse forward, aiming to trample Azadin and the fallen Tarkiev.
'Well, at least she's more tactical than Tarkiev… But…'
Azadin easily dodged the charge and grabbed Bühne's leg. She swung her sword at his head, but Azadin yanked her foot free from the stirrup and pulled her down while sitting to avoid the blade. Bühne was thrown from her horse.
"Argh!"
She landed in an awkward position, her legs splayed apart, and let out a pained scream.
"Ah… M-My pelvis! My pelvis…!"
***
After subduing Bühne's group, Azadin followed the road back. Soon, he found a farmer sobbing after having his cart stolen by them.
Judging by the haphazard piles of hay abandoned by the roadside, it was originally a hay cart. Bühne's group had seized it, tossed the hay aside, and filled it with loot from their raids instead.
"We'll return the cart. Let's also give back as many of the stolen goods as possible to their rightful owners."
At Azadin's words, the farmer bowed repeatedly.
"Thank you! Truly, thank you. May I ask your name…?"
"The true heir of Count Kazel, Tarkiev!"
"..."
Azadin glared at Tarkiev, who had butted in.
"Enough. Hey, you lot, put the hay back on the cart."
"Huh? Us?"
"Who else? You think I should do it? Seriously, what the hell are you guys? Just a bunch of useless layabouts?"
Azadin turned to Bühne, who was still groaning on the ground.
"Who are these guys?"
"Ugh… my friends."
"Friends?"
"Great adventurers."
"Great?"
It didn't take long to see the truth. This so-called adventurer, Bühne, had been wandering aimlessly, playing around with a gang of slackers.
She had been tempted by the Count's offer—if she found the Book of the Divine King, she would be made head of the household. However, she had quickly abandoned that quest in favor of looting. When she heard that Prince Kozel was out of the inheritance race, she had sought out Tarkiev instead.
'A bunch of clueless fools. Unbelievable. There's already a drought, and people are struggling, and yet these idiots are out here looking for the Book of the Divine King?'
Upon interrogating the so-called adventurers, Azadin found that they weren't exactly commoners. They were children of scribes, craftsmen, and lawyers—well-off kids who had run away from home, lured by the fantasy of striking it rich.
"Alright. If you're not going to load the hay back on, I'll strip you of your weapons and tie you to that tree over there. Pants down."
At Azadin's threat, Bühne and her so-called adventurer friends turned pale.