Azadin was irritated by the regional head's words and actions.
Despite his pride in his lineage, the man's attitude of prioritizing the affairs of the merchant guild over his duties as a herald displeased him. The fact that he had handled matters independently, excluding Azadin, and was only now informing him as if doing him a favor also did not sit well with him.
Was he saying it just because Aldis had asked him, as if he were doing it for her sake? But there was no point in losing his temper—this was not a man who would understand even if Azadin did. Regardless, he needed his information.
"The Tarkiev you travel with… Now that Young Master Kozel has lost his right of succession, he is one of the strongest contenders. But does the succession even hold any meaning now? Why not kill him, just in case the Korasar Peddlers' Guild is trying to hide the fact that they are Aragasa?"
"He is a petitioner of the gold coin."
"A petitioner, you say? But what if he betrays us?"
"Are you doubting the Emperor's voice? A petitioner of the gold coin can never betray Aragasa. If that were possible, the King's Church would have already used the confiscated emperor's gold to set a trap for us."
The petition of the gold coin is not something that can be used simply because one possesses the gold. The petitioner must sincerely and desperately wish for it to activate, and in return, a portion of their soul becomes the resource that sustains the Emperor's voice.
"I'm not doubting the Emperor's voice. No matter how terrible Tarkiev's character may be, he wouldn't dare oppose us directly. But isn't it possible that, due to his own incompetence, he might accidentally expose the guild's identity? Even if he has no intention of betraying us, his ineptitude could cause trouble."
"I understand your concerns. If necessary, I will remove him. But not now. There is still much we need to uncover—where he obtained the gold coins, where he hired the mercenaries, and more."
"Then… very well. I leave it to you. But remember, if anything goes wrong, it will be your responsibility."
The regional head spoke in a tone that made it clear that if information was leaked because of Tarkiev, Azadin would have to take responsibility.
'This old man, seriously.'
Azadin was irritated but held it in. Losing his temper wouldn't accomplish anything—his opponent wouldn't even understand why he was angry.
"I understand. Once again, I appreciate you arranging the carriage for me."
Azadin gave a polite farewell to the regional head and left. Though they had managed to reconcile somewhat by making mutual concessions, at their core, they simply did not get along.
The longer they stayed together, the worse their relationship would become, so Azadin decided to leave quickly.
***
Kozel had been castrated and lost his right of succession.
The rumor was spreading quickly. At first, it was merely whispered that something had happened to Kozel. But as time passed, the details became more specific, and now, it was certain.
Kozel and his subordinates, who had been raiding villages in search of the Book of the Divine King, had encountered the Herald Clan and were castrated.
That was the word spreading among the refugees.
"He was castrated by the Herald Clan?"
"I heard they gouged out his eyes too."
"Then he won't be causing trouble anymore. Serves him right."
"Hey, be careful what you say! What if someone hears you?"
"But isn't Salasma getting dangerous? They say the river is drying up."
Tarkiev was riding his horse along the road when he overheard the idle chatter of passersby carrying bundles on their backs.
"Hmm, the Herald Clan, huh?"
He glanced back at the slow-moving carriage trailing behind him. The Korasar Peddlers' Guild's carriage was following sluggishly. Azadin was likely sleeping inside.
'Did that hyung-nim do that to Kozel? Should I ask? No… but if I ask something unnecessary and he gets angry, that's scary.'
Tarkiev had once been an arrogant noble brat who looked down on others. But after meeting Azadin, he had come to realize that the world was vast and full of powerful people.
Honestly, it terrified him. And ever since he had learned that the Korasar Peddlers' Guild was actually made up of the Herald Clan, that fear had only grown.
He had thought they were nothing more than lowly, ragged merchants, yet they turned out to be an assassination group? If that was the case, who knew how many Herald Clan members existed and where they were hiding?
'I'd better not act out carelessly. I could end up dead without anyone even noticing.'
With that sobering thought, Tarkiev moved forward.
***
"We're here. Salasma."
Midiam shook Azadin awake.
"Ah, right. Since I was dismissed, the Emperor's voice is gone."
Azadin stretched as he got up. The Emperor's voice not only protected heralds from ambushes but also provided information on time and location.
"Now that it's gone, it's inconvenient. How long did I sleep?"
"About two hours? It's not that far."
The journey from their campsite to the gates of Salasma had not been long. Azadin stepped out of the carriage and spoke to Tarkiev.
"Let's go see your mother. We need to find out where you got those gold coins and why you hired those mercenaries."
"Yes, this way."
Tarkiev led the way up a hillside path to his mother's home, and Azadin followed.
From the hill, the area around Salasma was visible at a glance. Near the gates, in the town square, and in every open space, refugees had set up camps. And the reason for their presence was clear.
"The river has receded significantly."
The Kora River, which flowed through Korasar, had lost much of its volume. It had diminished so much that the docks used for cargo transportation were now stranded above the waterline, exposing the riverbed.
The upper district, where nobles, wealthy merchants, magistrates, and scribes resided, was now overrun with beggars.
"Please, sir, spare a coin."
"My children are starving."
While some begged for charity, others carried large banners and passionately preached about the end of times.
"The age of Jupiter is coming! When Jupiter enters the zodiac, the demon gods submerged beneath Netherstrom will awaken, bringing about the apocalypse! Repent! Uphold the three virtues and give to the poor!"
The presence of beggars and doomsayers made the scene even more chaotic. Midiam scowled at the man ranting about the end of the world.
"What a disgusting bastard."
"What?"
Azadin was curious.
"That man hasn't really received a revelation about the end of the world. He just has nothing, and his future is uncertain, so he wants the world to end. But if he simply says, 'I hope the world ends,' people would curse him, so instead, he hides behind prophecies and revelations. He's a truly powerless and rotten-hearted human being."
"Hmm, you're too harsh on people. Everyone has moments of weakness and foolishness. If you don't forgive human frailty, nothing can ever begin."
"Oh? Is that so? Then why don't you start by forgiving Arael?"
"...."
Azadin was at a loss for words.
"Hmm, now that I think about it, since humans are inherently flawed, maybe hating someone isn't such a bad thing after all."
"Your stance just changed 180 degrees."
"No, it's not that. It's just that Arael hasn't even asked for my forgiveness, so wouldn't it be ridiculous to claim I've forgiven her on my own?"
"That's true. I guess, as you said, humans are definitely imperfect."
Midiam said this and laughed.
"I'll forgive you when you make mistakes. You should be grateful."
"But you haven't forgiven me for anything, so why are you already acting like you have?"
***
Azadin's group barely managed to push through the crowd and reach Tarkiev's mother's mansion. But…
The front of the mansion was blocked off with large wooden boards, and soldiers stood guard, fully armed. No, it wasn't just this mansion—nearby mansions were also barricaded in the same manner, with apothecaries and clergy members coming and going. It looked as if an epidemic had broken out.
"Huh? What's going on? Hey! What happened here?"
A bewildered Tarkiev approached one of the soldiers guarding the mansion.
"Sir Tarkiev!?"
"Th-that is…"
"Your mother has gone missing."
"What?"
Tarkiev was aghast.
"My—my mother is missing? W-what should I do?"
As Tarkiev began to panic, Midiam nodded.
"Perhaps your mother has embarked on a new life, finally making a fresh start. Maybe she despaired over her foolish son, who never managed to leave her side."
"Enough, Midiam. Don't provoke him too much—he's already agitated."
"But it's true that he's been clinging to his mother."
"...."
Normally, Tarkiev would have retorted, but he was too shocked to respond.
"What about the children you sent to your mother? Were they safe when she was still here?"
Azadin had once rescued children from a baker who had been abusing and killing them, sending them to the Korasar Peddlers' Guild's ally, Baroness Nord. He wanted to know their whereabouts.
"L-let's ask the servants first."
Tarkiev turned to the nearby household staff.
"They were sent to the firm for servant training."
"I see… In that case, no matter what, we must find Baroness Nord."
Azadin was someone who never forgot a debt. If Baroness Nord had taken in the children, he would do whatever it took to save her.
"Now, calm down. Let's go inside and investigate first."
"I-inside?"
"Yes. Tell the soldiers that we'll be conducting an investigation."
At Azadin's request, Tarkiev approached the soldiers.
"Listen, I'll investigate personally, along with my companions!"
"Are you sure about this?"
"Of course! Now step aside!"
As Tarkiev insisted, the soldiers stepped aside and let them through.
***
Inside the mansion, which Tarkiev entered with Azadin, everything was neatly arranged. In the first-floor hall, there was a training area set up for sword practice.
"This is…?"
"My mother enjoys sword training. In fact, I learned swordsmanship from her."
"Is that so?"
Among noblewomen, practicing swordsmanship wasn't an unusual hobby. Nobles with many children often didn't wait until marriage to arrange their futures—instead, they would send them to the King's Church or the Salvation Knight Order. Because of this, many noblewomen took an interest in sword training.
In other words, Baroness Nord was likely proficient in swordsmanship. If she had been abducted or attacked, there should have been signs of resistance. But there were no such traces to be seen.
Had the skill gap been so vast that she was subdued without spilling a single drop of blood? Or had she been ambushed in her sleep, unable to even wake up?
Azadin examined the training equipment and looked for any signs of a struggle.
"Ishmael! Midiam! You two search as well."
They split up and began scouring the area.