Azadin and his party began administrative work at Sinop Fortress alongside Guillaumevalt.
Between Brock and Liz was a still-young child, but with Brock renouncing his fief and becoming a cleric, the child's status was left uncertain.
Thus, Guillaumevalt decided to become the boy's guardian and rule over Sinop Fortress and its subordinate manors in the meantime.
The stewards and scribes began transferring the local assets and internal affairs over to him. Fortunately, Guillaumevalt had exceptional talent in accounting and similar matters, so the work was quickly completed.
While Guillaumevalt was handling the affairs of the territory, Azadin searched through the hideout of the Kurt Pantheon Alliance, a union of followers of the Kurt Divine Clan.
"It's the Naga Empire."
Shati insisted that this secret base belonged to the Naga Empire.
"Mm, I suppose it is."
Azadin looked through documents and letters, but those written in the Naga language and Fang-cuneiform script were unreadable even for him.
"Shati. Can you read this?"
"You think I'd interpret that for you?! I may be your prisoner, but my heart belongs wholly and eternally to the Naga Empire!"
"Huh? What was that? Say it again."
When Midiam nocked an arrow to her bow, Shati flinched.
"Just this once!"
"You're very cooperative."
"No, but really, believe it or not, most of it's useless junk. Looks like all the higher-ups have already abandoned this place."
So said Shati as she began reading through the documents—most of which turned out to be ledgers detailing loans and amounts of money. Even those who didn't understand the Naga language could tell they were full of numbers.
"We found four copies of the Book of the Divine King here, and you're saying no high-ranking officials were left behind? If they left the Book of the Divine King, surely someone important would've been left to safeguard them?"
"Do you have any idea how terrifying the Wendigo is? It's a ritual to summon the reaper of the nether—there's no reason to leave something precious behind. On the other hand, the power is undeniable. They probably figured sacrificing four copies of the Book of the Divine King was worth it."
In other words, even losing four pages of Book of the Divine King was a worthwhile trade if it meant summoning the Wendigo and wreaking havoc upon the world of humans.
"How about Scott? Any intel from him?"
"Nothing particularly useful. All command authorities already escaped. After the failure of the operation in Salasma, they were going to abandon this base—but then that Lady Liz or whoever suggested they could still use the Wendigo's altar. So the hardliners stayed and unleashed the Wendigo."
"The top brass destroyed all their information before leaving?"
"Yeah."
"Hmm. But can information really be erased that easily? If we dig a little, something should turn up. Shati, Scott—you two were on this side originally, weren't you? Don't you know anything?"
"Orcs are usually on mercenary contracts."
"And I wasn't that high-ranking among the Nagas. I don't know anything. Thankfully, I don't know a thing, so there's nothing I can tell you!"
Shati said that with a grin. But just then, Ishmael found a book covered in black scales among the corpses of the Kurt Pantheon followers.
"Azadin. This…"
"Hm. This one actually looks promising."
"It might be a grimoire. Be careful."
"Yeah. Looks like a grimoire, alright."
Azadin prepared an obsidian razor blade and opened the book.
"A translation text of the Nether language. Hm. But…"
Azadin furrowed his brows as he read.
"A translation of the Nether language? Then…"
"Never read too much at once. It'll corrupt your mind. I've read a lot of this stuff already, so I'll be fine… but this one's a little strange."
Azadin stared at the book, puzzled. He flipped through page after page, completely absorbed, as though being drawn into the book, trying to verify something he already knew.
At first, the others didn't think much of it, but as Azadin's behavior grew increasingly strange, they began to worry.
"Wait! You shouldn't look at it for too long!"
Midiam tried to stop him, but Azadin, seemingly entranced, continued flipping through the pages.
"Didn't you say not to read too much at once?"
"I've got strong magic resistance. Anyway, this is…"
"Hey! Stop him!"
From his wheelchair, Scott gestured to Ishmael to do something about Azadin. But Ishmael chose to wait and see what was happening.
After some time poring over the Nether-language book, blood began to seep from the gap in Azadin's mask.
"Azadin!"
"Damn, I read too much."
Azadin quickly removed his mask and, using the obsidian razor, cut the spot where his eyes once were—a wound left by Arael. The cut flesh writhed and turned into a squirming, blackish-red worm.
"Eugh, what is that?!"
Shati shrieked in horror.
"Tch."
Azadin crushed the worm underfoot.
"…When a being of the material world tries to comprehend the language of the nether, corruption sets in. It's best to cut away the skin or surface that's been affected."
Scott explained as he swallowed hard.
"But your body shouldn't be capable of using magic at all, so how are you this familiar with the Nether language, captain? And why were you so absorbed in it?"
"..."
Azadin wiped the obsidian blade on his leather belt and closed the book without a word.
"What's wrong?"
"Wait. Ishmael, you found this, right? Where exactly did you get it?"
"Over there…"
Ishmael pointed to a Naga corpse. Even at a glance, the body was far larger than the others, adorned with ornate jewelry and a massive curved blade—clearly someone of high rank.
"Did you notice something strange?"
"Yeah. This book… it contains a sigil researched by Kazas."
"What?"
"Why would a Naga have something developed by our Aragasa Elder Council?"
"Maybe it's because anyone who practices magic tends to study the Nether language? Just because your Herald Clan researched it doesn't mean our Nagas wouldn't have uncovered the same knowledge. Honestly, I bet our research is more advanced."
"If that's the case, then all the better."
Azadin picked up the Nether-language text the Nagas had been working on.
"Are you suggesting there's someone in Aragasa who's been secretly working with the Kurt Pantheon?"
Ishmael asked.
"It's possible… No. No, forget it."
Azadin shook his head.
The researcher of the Nether language in question was Elder Kazas. If this knowledge had been leaked, Kazas would be the most likely source.
Moreover, Kazas wasn't originally of Aragasa. He was an elf who had once challenged the Aragasa and, upon being captured, had been made to provide his knowledge as atonement. He was a confined elder.
That is, he was once an enemy of Aragasa… and the elves had originally been vassals of the Naga Empire.
'But if that's true…'
That would mean Azadin's teacher, Kazas, was a traitor to Aragasa.
'No, the evidence is still lacking. This alone isn't enough.'
With that thought, Azadin packed up the Nether-language book.
***
The castle of Count Lantarik had already been fully taken over by Adler and the vassals who had sworn loyalty to him. If Count Lantarik, Garnahair, were to go missing, Adler planned to use those vassals to either assassinate Guillaumevalt, the eldest son, or pressure him into joining the King's Church, allowing Adler to inherit the count title of Lantarik.
But then, strange rumors began to circulate. Word was that Guillaumevalt had refused to enter the King's Church and was heading there to claim the title of Count Lantarik.
At first, everyone thought Guillaumevalt had gone mad.
There was a ten-year age gap between Adler and Guillaumevalt. But even when Adler had been only ten years old, Guillaumevalt had been inferior to him in swordsmanship, magic, in every way. So much so that a fully grown knight of twenty had once lost in a duel to a ten-year-old boy. Guillaumevalt had always seemed a hopeless fool.
And now that very Guillaumevalt was challenging for the title of Count Lantarik without even a single supporting retainer?
"What's going on? What about those Cell Sword Guild lackeys? Wasn't their job to follow Guillaumevalt around, butter him up a bit, and keep an eye on him?"
Adler was a handsome youth with strands of silver in his bangs, so delicate and elegant in appearance that he could easily be mistaken for a woman.
To those who prized the bloodline of the Yaegas Divine Clan, his very image was irresistible—a purebred, born of Count Lantarik Garnahair's generations of careful bloodline management.
That had earned him Count Garnahair's affection, excessive even, but Adler took pride in it. He had been promised the Lantarik territory as his own.
And now Guillaumevalt was suddenly rising up?
"Well…"
"We've heard… the Cell Sword Guild members are dead."
The vassals, hesitant as if they too couldn't believe it, replied.
"What? Them? Why? Did they all get food poisoning or something?"
"They tried to assassinate Sir Guillaumevalt and were killed in the counterattack."
"What kind of joke is that?"
Adler's eyes widened.
"Well, um… They say Sir Guillaumevalt had been hiding his claws all this time."
"That fool? Claws? You've got to be joking."
"But it appears to be true."
"There are strange rumors going around lately. They're calling Sir Guillaumevalt the Hero of Sinop Fortress."
"The word 'hero' might be the least fitting thing for that idiot. What are you talking about?"
"They say monsters appeared at Sinop Fortress, and everyone fled—but Sir Guillaumevalt and his companions resolved the situation."
"I knew the common folk were dumb, but they really believe that crap?"
"But apparently, there really was a thick fog and terrifying beasts."
"So they actually believe it?! Someone like Guillaumevalt, I could beat with one hand."
The vassals looked unsettled as Adler grew irritated. Originally, as the beloved youngest son, Adler had always been modest and composed, basking in the count's favor.
But ever since the count's disappearance, he'd begun snapping at the vassals. It was becoming clear that his past demeanor had been an act—meant to win favor with his father and the court.
Still, even if it was an act, it was acceptable. A lord-in-waiting who cares what his vassals think is at least trying. But for him to grow this irritable now, with a powerful rival emerging—this was not a good sign.
"Sir Guillaumevalt has, in fact, taken control of Sinop Fortress, forced Sir Brock—who summoned the monster—to enter the clergy, and became guardian to Sir Brock's son, Cedric."
"What? He took back the fief that had been given to a vassal?"
"Yes. And apparently, Sir Brock accepted it willingly."
"That's strange. What's going on?"
Unable to contain himself, Adler turned to the person beside him. The man beside him clicked his tongue.
"Chances are… he's one of our own."
"One of yours…?"
Adler furrowed his brows.
"You mean the Herald Clan?"
"Yes."
The young man of the Herald Clan standing beside Adler nodded with a smile.
"You people really get on my nerves. Like with Father's disappearance. He had some of your so-called 'skilled' men with him, and yet that disaster still happened. And now what? Some of you are siding with Guillaumevalt? Are you scheming something in our Lantarik territory?"
"Not at all. As you know, our Lady Arael's Faction is only one branch of the Herald Clan. There are still foolish old comrades scattered about who've yet to receive the gospel. We'll try our best to persuade him."
"Yeah, you'd better. If you want access to the Emperor's Treasury, that is."
Adler sneered and twirled a golden key adorned on his finger.