The merchants who had their goods confiscated and were handed false scrips, and the residents who were suddenly driven out of their homes, all lost their minds and began to speak ill of the king.
"Someone else should've become king!"
"Indeed!"
"But still, Count Kazel is a bit…"
"Then how about Sir Zekt? He's royalty too."
"He's northern royalty, isn't he? What does he know about our region?"
"Still, he's an extraordinary holy knight. If he had taken the throne, none of this would've happened…"
As Zekt's name came up among the people, Zebeck couldn't hold himself back and stepped forward.
"What reckless nonsense are you spouting?"
"Gah?!"
"Ah!"
When they saw Zebeck, a holy knight of the King's Church, everyone jumped in fright.
"Ah, no, we didn't mean anything by it."
"Hehe…"
The merchants immediately retracted their words and gave awkward, sycophantic smiles.
However, the refugees who had lost their homes couldn't hide the venom in their eyes, even in front of a knight of the King's Church.
The ability to swallow one's pride, laugh before the strong, and act humbly—this too required strong mental fortitude, something merchants possessed.
The already-exhausted and despairing refugees, however, laughed in scorn, regardless of whether the man before them was a holy knight or not.
"Hmph."
"This world is finished. Rain falling for a week—no, two weeks straight in the king's capital? Never heard of such a thing."
"With disasters like that happening, isn't it obvious?"
"I doubt things would be much better with Count Kazel or Sir Zekt as king, but still, you can't say the current king is all that competent either."
"If you've got a mouth, go ahead and speak. What do you say, holy knight?"
The refugees grew angry and began to encircle Zebeck. If Azadin and the others hadn't been standing behind him, it truly seemed like they might have all rushed in to beat him.
"Now, now, that's enough. Let's go. Ah, here's something for your story."
Azadin handed some coins to the refugees, calming their anger.
"You'd pay such blasphemers?"
Zebeck seemed displeased with Azadin's gesture, giving money to those who had uttered such sacrilege.
"Coincidentally, I'm a blasphemer too. Just let it go, Sir Zebeck. You're not about to throw punches at civilians, are you?"
"But it does sound serious. The royal palace flooding? That's something unimaginable."
Midiam said this, her expression clouded with worry.
"I hope Zion orabeoni is safe…"
"Zion, you say…?"
"He's my cousin. A former herald."
Midiam shrugged as she spoke.
"He was always fond of me, so if we meet, I'm sure he'll listen. It'll help clear your name too, Azadin."
"Well, first we'd better hope he's still alive."
That's how dire the situation in Coral Sahar seemed.
"Come on. He's a former herald—what could possibly happen to him?"
"Who knows?"
Despite his words, Azadin turned his steps toward Coral Sahar.
***
The closer they got to Coral Sahar, the more the river swelled. The Kora River, which had nearly dried up in Salasma, was now overflowing, rising to the very edge of the embankment.
But then…
"The river's flowing backward."
Azadin clicked his tongue as he watched the roiling water.
"That means Coral Sahar got a lot of rain. Normally, river water only reverses flow when the tide comes in from the sea…"
"And even then, only near the lower parts. But we're not even at Coral Sahar yet. You're telling me the river's back flowing even here?"
It was certain that a massive amount of rain had fallen in Coral Sahar. Azadin was just thinking this when—
—Fwip!
An arrow flew toward Azadin.
No— not just Azadin. A rain of arrows targeted the entire group, shot upward from below the riverbank.
Azadin, without much thought, casually slapped away the incoming arrows and stepped back.
"Waaah! I'm gonna die!"
Scott, on the other hand, shrieked and curled into a ball.
"Are they from the Herald Clan?"
Zebeck used his scabbard, cloak, and armor to shield Scott from the oncoming arrows. Though the arrows were far from ordinary, Zebeck managed to protect both himself and Scott unharmed.
"Ugh! Damn it. Why are you people always fighting amongst yourselves?!"
Shati screamed and hid behind Scott's wheelchair.
"A bit much for a greeting, don't you think?"
Azadin clicked his tongue as he counted the number of incoming arrows.
There were far more than a handful of Aragasa lying in ambush below the embankment. At least twenty were firing arrows.
Among them stood one who appeared to be the leader—a young man around Azadin's age, wearing a mask similar to his but adorned with far more extravagant jewels. He stood nonchalantly, betraying no signs that he had just launched the ambush.
His composure, difficult to believe from someone who had just launched an attack, seemed to claim that it was all just a greeting.
And indeed, he spoke to Azadin.
"If you got hit by an arrow from this distance, you'd be unworthy of the Aragasa name! It was just a light greeting! I'd have been very disappointed if you'd actually gotten hit!"
What utter nonsense. Firing arrows from over a hundred paces away and calling it a greeting was something the Aragasa did.
But that only applied when both sides were already aware of each other. Even an Aragasa couldn't react to a surprise volley from hiding.
The only reason Azadin survived was because he had already been on alert—had he not been, he would've been killed.
"Is that so? Then I suppose I should return the greeting."
Azadin nocked an arrow and loosed it.
The masked young man sneered and caught Azadin's arrow mid-air, but—
"?!"
Shocked by the sheer force, he staggered back, barely twisting the arrow's path away. Had he tried to catch it directly, it would've punched a hole through his face.
"Ugh?! Are you insane… putting magic on a greeting arrow!? Were you trying to kill me!?"
Unbelievable, coming from the one who had launched the ambush first.
"I didn't enchant it."
"Ha. Don't lie. Don't bluff. That's a standard Moon Horn Bow and a lightweight arrow—how the hell does it have this much force?"
"If you use classical Aragasa shooting technique, even the same bow can fire with far more power."
"You're saying you got this level of accuracy with Aragasa shooting technique? Don't make me laugh."
The Aragasa shooting technique that increases arrow velocity by drawing the bow deeper was originally developed to extend the range when soldiers fired in volleys.
It was more akin to a projectile launcher than traditional archery.
The accuracy Azadin had just displayed was so absurdly precise that no one could believe it was achieved using the Aragasa shooting technique.
At that moment, Midiam recognized the young man.
"Zion orabeoni!"
At the sound of his name, the young man removed his mask.
He was a handsome youth with snow-white skin, bright blond hair, and bluish-gray eyes.
"Oh. Right, Midiam. Haha, haven't seen you in years and now you're all grown up."
He greeted Midiam with familiarity, then turned a glare toward Azadin. His hand, still gripping Azadin's arrow, throbbed with pain—despite wearing gloves, it stung this much. Had it been bare skin, it would have surely torn open.
"You're telling me that arrow wasn't enchanted?"
"I can't enchant arrows."
"What? What do you mean—"
"Don't tell me you've never heard the rumors? I thought every Aragasa knew that the Eyeless Azadin is a fool who can't even use magic."
"Weren't all but the House Aether fools? I don't bother with competitions over who's the bigger idiot."
Shati laughed at those words.
"Another one like Scott. Arrogant talker, aren't you?"
"I'm just stating facts. That's not arrogance, that's honesty. He, on the other hand, is definitely arrogant."
Scott muttered bitterly and added,
"Herald clan's greetings are rough, I almost died from one."
"But doesn't it seem like that greeting was just the beginning?"
As Shati said, Zion and his men still hadn't lowered their weapons and were watching Azadin closely.
In the first place, their ambush was likely meant to subdue any heralds of the Arael faction traveling this road.
Perhaps the only reason the first strike was "just a greeting" was because they recognized Midiam among the group?
"Well, we should at least try talking first, right?"
Azadin steeled himself, remembering that Midiam had recognized the young man.
***
"…So, you're the Eyeless Azadin. The one said to be Arael's younger brother."
Zion Aether nodded, as if he'd already heard of Azadin.
"I'm the older one, and she's the younger."
"Are you twins fighting over that? You two must be really close. Isn't it only when you get along that you argue over who's older? If you hated each other, you'd be too busy trying to kill one another to care about who's older or younger. Not like either of you has an inheritance waiting anyway."
"You bastard…"
"So. I can take it that you're a traitor to the elder council? You'll side with your kin, after all. In that case, free my cousin."
"N-no! Orabeoni! Azadin isn't on Arael's side! I vouch for him!"
"…Really?"
Zion tilted his head.
"In that case, welcome. Still, I'm surprised to hear that siblings get along so poorly. Are you sure it's not a personality issue?"
"You sound awfully irritated. Shouldn't you be glad I'm not siding with Arael?"
"Nah. I mean, you're just a low-ranking herald. Doesn't really matter if you're friend or foe at that level."
"Low-ranking herald?"
"The Eyeless Azadin. What's your rank?"
"108th Herald."
"For real? I figured you were near the bottom, but wow, that's rock-bottom. So that's why you enchanted that 'greeting arrow' out of pride, huh?"
Zion clearly didn't believe Azadin's strength came from physical prowess or skill. He was convinced Azadin had used magic to trick him.
"Is he always like this?"
Azadin asked Midiam.
"Ahaha…"
Just then, Zion dropped his light tone and grew serious.
"Hey. Don't go getting too close to my cousin. Even if you're a herald and she's a servant, Midiam is of the House Aether. She's not someone you can treat lightly. Of course, you're a young man, full of passion, so I understand if you're drawn to her beauty, but…"
"..."
"Midiam, really. Why'd you have to run off like that? If you'd just waited, I would've found a good position for you."
"More importantly, tell us about Korasar, and Coral Sahar. What the hell is going on?"
"Since the arrival of Demia of the Flower and her younger sister, Zenith, storms have been raging nonstop. It's ridiculous, really."
"What is?"
"I mean, if there's a storm, shouldn't Aleph of the Wind be the one involved? But here it's Demia of the Flower, stirring things up. Doesn't fit her epithet at all."
"..."