There were traces of soldiers' boot prints, suggesting they had already searched the area once. Their lack of proper training meant they had searched clumsily, erasing many traces instead.
"These bastards, seriously. How dare they barge in and rummage through everything?"
Tarkiev shouted in anger as he saw the traces of soldiers breaking into his mother's house.
"Did they take any valuables?"
"N-no, I don't think so. My mother was relatively frugal. She preferred treasured swords or armor over jewelry."
"They say 'like father, like son,' but I guess that's a lie."
Azadin muttered, implying that Tarkiev was not as remarkable as the baroness. He then looked around.
Overall, the house was rather restrained. Aside from being a bit spacious and clean, it didn't feel like a noble's mansion. Considering she had hired so many mercenaries for her child, she must have been quite wealthy.
Soon, they found something suspicious in the baroness's bedroom on the second floor. Caught in the door frame was a tuft of animal fur.
"This is…"
"Hmm."
Azadin carefully examined the fur.
"Rat fur. Judging by the fact that it's still here, it seems the soldiers really did a half-hearted job searching."
It wasn't entirely the soldiers' fault—Tarkiev's attitude made that clear. If he was this furious just because soldiers had entered a noble's home, how could they have conducted a proper investigation?
"Rat fur, you say? No way…"
Tarkiev was startled by Azadin's words.
"A wererat? We need to test it with silver."
Azadin pulled out a waxed plate, typically used for coating arrows, and ground a silver coin over it to produce silver dust. He placed the fur on top of the dust. As soon as it came into contact, the fur's ends began splitting apart, as if scorched by the silver.
"It's a wererat."
"Are you saying a wererat kidnapped my mother?!"
Tarkiev gasped.
Wererat.
These rat-like humanoids were cursed beings, followers of the Kurt Divine Clan, subordinates of the Rat King. They were far stronger than ordinary humans, greedy, violent, and fond of consuming human flesh.
If she had been taken by such creatures, the likelihood of his mother still being alive was close to zero.
"And it seems like it wasn't just one or two of them. Hm?"
Azadin peered under the bed in the bedroom. There, he found cobwebs.
"Spider Web."
"Wh-why does that matter?"
"These webs carry traces of mana. Do you understand what that means?"
"Ah!"
Tarkiev gasped at Azadin's words. Come to think of it, the mercenary captain who had humiliated him was also a spider demon.
"Let's see…"
Azadin lifted the bed and discovered a trapdoor underneath.
"A trapdoor? On the second floor?"
Upon opening it, instead of a passage, there was only a small empty space beneath. Inside, a bronze plaque was engraved with the symbol of the Spider Queen, Arthra.
"Your mother was a cultist of the Kurt Divine Clan."
"What? That's impossible! My mother is a noble!"
"There are plenty of noble cultists. Especially, the Spider Queen Arthra is known to be popular among noblewomen."
The Spider Queen Arthra granted her female followers the power to seduce and dominate men. In a world where faith in the Divine King was strong, and despite the fact that the Kurt Divine Clan once butchered and devoured humans, cultists continued to emerge for precisely that reason.
It was a threat to humanity as a whole, but for individuals, it could be beneficial. That was why cultists were never in short supply.
"But the ones who kidnapped my mother were wererats, weren't they?"
"That's right. If they were wererats, they wouldn't serve the Spider Queen Arthra but the Rat King, Mezeri. Hmm, the Kurt Divine Clan fights among themselves too. I'm not sure of the details."
Azadin turned away from the bedroom and headed toward the study.
"Hm?"
"Did you find something?"
"Hold on."
Azadin moved aside a portrait hanging on the study wall, revealing a hidden safe behind it. Using a lockpick, he cracked it open and pulled out a few gold coins.
"Huh?!"
"Emperor's gold coins?"
Midiam and Ishmael exclaimed in astonishment. It was rare to see emperor's gold coins, yet there were five of them. Inside the safe, there were also various documents and treasures.
"Your mother seems to have been quite an extraordinary person."
Azadin murmured, staring at the emperor's gold coins.
Azadin, who usually had little greed for material wealth, made an exception when it came to emperor's gold coins. The number of coins one acquired determined their rank as a herald and increased their prestige within their clan. Moreover, obtaining them as physical currency instead of through contracts made them even more valuable.
'Those from prestigious families pay exorbitant amounts to buy these.'
If you have gold coins in your possession, you can push merits. You can push merits to specific heralds by having your servants spend gold coins. By doing so, good heralds from good families can artificially raise their children's rank, and the value of this is hard to measure.
"T-these coins are not for you! If you rescue my mother, I'll give them to you."
Tarkiev, well aware of the value of the emperor's gold coins to the Herald Clan, was visibly anxious. Even though Azadin's face was hidden by his helmet, his aura alone made it clear how significant this find was.
Ishmael gestured to Midiam.
'Why don't we just kill him and take them now?'
Ishmael silently suggested that they should kill Tarkiev and seize the gold.
"No."
Azadin stopped him.
"Huh?"
Tarkiev, who hadn't seen Ishmael's gesture, panicked when Azadin suddenly said no.
"N-no? What do you mean?"
"No, I won't touch them. A herald has dignity. How could I stop plundering?"
Azadin clicked his tongue and placed the gold coins back inside before closing the safe.
"But you were dismissed from the herald ranks, weren't you?"
Midiam, oblivious to the situation, bluntly mentioned Azadin's expulsion, even with Tarkiev standing right there.
***
After leaving the mansion and surveying the area, Azadin found another clue at the mansion's well.
"A piece of dress fabric."
A torn piece of a woman's garment was caught in the crevice of a rock.
"The well?"
"The bottom is dry. There must be an underground passage here."
"Then… are you going to rescue her?"
"Wait, we don't know how many enemies there are yet."
Azadin stopped coldly.
If he rushed in recklessly to rescue the baroness, he could earn five gold coins—but that was only if he succeeded. If he failed, his own life would be at risk.
He had no idea what kind of enemies he was dealing with, how many there were, or what kinds of traps awaited them. Charging in blindly was too dangerous.
"Judging by how people keep disappearing, there must be quite a few followers of the Kurt Divine Clan. Otherwise, they wouldn't be able to kidnap so many people."
"Then, what will you do?"
"Fully arm myself."
Azadin climbed out of the well and called for his mountain goat. From the saddlebag, he pulled out armor made of chainmail and plate.
"It's too heavy, so I don't usually wear it…."
He layered on the thick armor, equipping gauntlets and steel boots as well.
"I've never seen a herald carry around such heavy armor before."
Most imperial heralds preferred light armor.
'So that's why he has so much baggage on the goat. That's also why he walks instead of riding it.'
Midiam now understood why Azadin always led the goat on foot rather than riding it.
"In tight spaces, armor is the best option. If you rely too much on agility and go in lightly armored, you'll end up in serious trouble."
After putting on his armor, Azadin reinforced a rope inside the well, ensuring he could climb back up even if the bucket rope snapped. Only then did he begin descending.
Upon reaching the bottom, Azadin carefully examined the dry well. Sure enough, there was a passageway large enough for a person to crawl through.
"Hmm."
There was fur on the ground.
"Ugh, I can't see anything!"
Just then, above him, Tarkiev began chanting a spell, casting an ignition spell to light a lamp.
"You could see even without light, couldn't you?"
Midiam, noticing that Azadin had already been inspecting the ground before the lamp was lit, realized that his vision wasn't affected by the presence or absence of light. Azadin didn't answer, instead picking up a tuft of fur from the ground.
"It's wererat fur. There are footprints too. This must be the right way."
"I see."
After climbing down, Tarkiev shone the lamp onto the ground, revealing a chaotic mess of footprints.
"Let's go."
Azadin set off in the direction of the tracks. As they moved through the underground passage, they saw the bottoms of other wells, many of which also bore footprints.
"Hm?"
Azadin stopped upon spotting a trap. A thin string stretched at ankle height, with small bells attached.
"What's this?"
"Shh."
Azadin signaled for silence. A trap with bells meant someone was within earshot, listening for an intruder.
Setting up a bell trap without monitoring it would be pointless—it would only reveal that someone had tampered with the area.
Sure enough, there was movement ahead.
"Huh?"
"Who's there?"
Two refugees holding torches entered the passage.
Azadin signaled to Tarkiev to cover the lamp hood. The flame went out, but it was already too late.
"Is someone there?"
"I thought I saw light just now. I'm not imagining things, am I?"
"Who's there?"
It seemed they had been noticed. The group turned to Azadin, waiting for his decision.
Azadin gestured to Tarkiev.
"Hey, use your status to intimidate them."
"Me?!"
Tarkiev caught on to Azadin's intention and stepped forward.
"Ahem. I am Tarkiev, son of the Margrave of Salasma!"
"A-ah! A knight, sir!"
"What brings you here?"
The refugees appeared cautious upon hearing Tarkiev's identity.
'He's terrible at acting.'
Azadin noticed that their expressions held neither fear nor respect for nobility. Instead, he saw annoyance, irritation, and a sly grin shared between them.
"I asked a question. What are you doing here?"
"We are merely wandering refugees, looking for a safe place."
"Yes, we just happened to settle here…."
That was what they claimed, but Tarkiev scoffed.
"Cut the nonsense. You should've at least tried to hide the greed gleaming in your eyes, you wererat scum."
"Ah."
"Hahaha."
The refugees started laughing.
"If he wants to die, we should grant his wish."
"Kill the men, eat the women!"
"There's not much difference between the two, is there? Hehehe!"
The refugees hunched over and began transforming.
"You bastards! What did you do to my mother?!"
Tarkiev lunged, swinging his sword at one of the transforming wererats, hoping they would be defenseless mid-transformation.
However, the wererat swiftly pulled out a mace and blocked the longsword with incredible speed and strength.
"Urgh!"
They weren't defenseless while transforming?! The sheer impact of the first clash sent a powerful shock through Tarkiev. The wererats were far too strong.
"Kikiki! Coward! I can smell your fear!"
The wererats could tell that Tarkiev was terrified of them.
"Smash the lamp! The darkness is our ally!"
The wererats charged at Tarkiev. However…
—Thwack!
A sharp whistle sliced through the air as an arrow lodged itself in a wererat's mouth.
Midiam had loosed an arrow, piercing straight through the creature's snout.
The arrow tore through the roof of its mouth and lodged deep into its brain, causing the wererat to stagger and collapse. A fatal wound for any normal being—but instead of dying, the wererat thrashed desperately, trying to yank the arrow out.
"Aaaah!"
The one who screamed was, in fact, Tarkiev.