Chapter 16
It had been around this very time in his previous life.
Isaac had heard, in passing, of a foot soldier who had escaped from the execution grounds. The memory had long since blurred, and he had never once seen the man’s face.
He came to learn the soldier’s name only later, during the dull and airless days he spent imprisoned within the underground vault. There, out of sheer boredom, he read a book titled The Chronicles of Villains.
It was a rare volume, lavishly illustrated; the author had stitched together every rumor that drifted through the marketplaces about the rogues of the realm, inserting composite sketches copied from wanted posters between the chapters. Among them, Nias appeared briefly as well.
He had been drawn far more demonic than in reality, yet not so exaggerated as to feel wholly false. One could almost believe it.
The Chronicle of Villains gained such popularity among the nobility that it reached up to Volume 3.
By the time Volume 3 came out, the civil war within the kingdom had intensified.
The villain featured in that volume was Kyle.
The very same condemned man now standing before Isaac’s eyes; and the foot soldier who had once escaped the execution grounds.
The author included commentary for each villain, but gave an unusually generous evaluation of Kyle.
[The common view holds Kyle to be little more than the ringleader of some rabble-rousing band of rebels. But his true nature is far more complex. He was, perhaps, a genius who could have become the seventh Swordmaster on the continent. Yet he could not master the knot of resentment lodged deep in his heart, and so failed to bring to bloom what should have bloomed.
He is a villain, to be sure. Hundreds upon thousands of common folk lost their lives by his hand, and even the Duke-King himself was said to suffer frequent headaches on his account. And yet, wise and merciful readers—there are times when goodness has its reasons, just as evil has its own. I humbly ask that you consider this through the pages of this book.]
The author of The Chronicle of Villains was purged by the Second Prince, who had crowned himself Duke of the Empire.
Why the author evaluated Kyle so highly, why he wrote such content, even Isaac could not know.
What he did learn from the book was simply that Kyle possessed extraordinary talent.
Back then, the book was secretly read over and over among the nobles until it was worn thin.
Some nobles even paid scribes with blood money to order copies.
Even the one Isaac read was the 17th copied version.
If someone could inspire that much curiosity, he must have achieved feats worthy of it.
“How…”
Kyle couldn’t hide his expression.
“It’s too early to be surprised. I know more than just your name.”
Isaac could sense Kyle’s mana.
‘Impressive.’
If he had seen just a budding seed of potential in Enette before, in Kyle, he saw a blooming tree with buds on every branch.
How much effort had it taken to reach that point?
If all those buds bloomed, how powerful would he become?
He couldn’t even imagine.
Of course, this was only a visualization Isaac formed with the mental imagery he developed after acquiring the Fifth Circuit.
There was no way to know how accurate it was.
However, if Isaac’s decades of training had not been in vain, then one thing was certain: Kyle was the kind of talent Goethe needed.
“What is it that you know about me?”
“For example, I know you’re Cayenne’s son.”
“Who the hell are you?”
Kyle stood up in shock.
His whole posture was full of vigilance; no, it was closer to hostility.
“You served in Winterband, didn’t you? Don’t you know who I am? My name is Isaac von Goethe, the eldest son of House Goethe—”
“That’s not what I’m asking! How do you know that? Did you come to kill me?”
“You’re overly self-conscious. In this chaotic republic, who would care about the son of some mercenary? Especially a bastard child who disappeared over a decade ago? Relax. I’m not a magician disguised as a young master, nor am I being mind-controlled, nor was I sent here on someone’s orders.”
“Are you really young master Isaac?”
“Believe it or not, it’s up to you.”
Kyle looked confused.
It was his first time facing Isaac.
Coming and going freely into the mansion’s underground prison, guided by the guards.
Wearing noble clothing, looking healthy and well-groomed.
Still just a boy whose hair had barely dried.
“If you really are the heir of House Goethe, how do you know me so well?”
“I’m smart, you see. Put together what I’ve heard, and it all made sense naturally.”
Isaac tapped his temple.
Of course, it was a lie.
All he knew came from the book he read and from what Jonas had told him in his previous life.
“That’s ridiculous…”
“Either way, you don’t have the right to ask questions now. There are only two choices: answer my questions, or don’t.”
“……”
“If you want to keep a secret, pay with another secret.”
“……”
“I’ll ask again. Why are Winterband’s company commanders involved in slave trading?”
“If you truly are the young master, then all the more reason I can’t answer.”
Kyle now spoke formally, but his wariness remained.
“Why? Are you worried about Randolph? That harm might come to the family of your superior, who once treated you like a brother?”
Isaac speculated, based on what he had heard from Margrave.
“……Think what you want.”
Kyle sat down again.
Isaac tried several more questions, but Kyle wouldn’t answer anything beyond that.
“You’re probably thinking of escaping from the execution ground. With your skill, it’s possible. But what after that?”
“…………”
“Pyke and Randolph might pin all the crimes on you. Then you’ll become a fugitive throughout the kingdom. And if I happen to reveal your background, the Republic’s pursuers will be on you too.”
“………….”
“Your revenge isn’t finished yet, is it, Kyle? This incident will push your revenge a few steps back. That old man, you don’t even need to kill him yourself. He looks close to death already. You seem pretty relaxed about it.”
“……”
Isaac chose his words carefully to stab at Kyle’s heart, but Kyle showed no reaction.
‘Just as I heard.’
Isaac recalled what Jonas had told him in his previous life.
The foot soldier who escaped near the mansion was falsely accused of colluding with a criminal organization in the sewers and lived as a fugitive.
Later, when the kingdom was annexed by the empire, he joined the rebel army and eventually rose to lead them.
It was thanks to his overwhelming martial prowess.
Jonas had called Kyle “a man of loyalty.”
At the time Goethe was amassing resources to become a city-state, the hardliners in the rebel army wanted to plunder Goethe’s supplies.
But Kyle had refused, saying he couldn’t attack his former comrades from Winterband.
As a result, the rebel army split between moderates and hardliners, fell into internal conflict, and collapsed.
After that, no news of Kyle reached Isaac.
At the very least, he was not the type of man to betray his comrades for his own life or goals.
Even now, with his life and mission at stake, he kept his mouth shut for his former superior’s sake.
Quite the opposite of being guilty of “mutiny.”
‘He’s not someone who moves out of simple profit and loss like Bill. In that case…?’
***⚜***
“Young Master, what do you intend to do? At this rate, those Nias bastards will get spooked and run. They’ll throw me to the wolves just to save their own necks.”
The moment Isaac returned to his chambers, Bill spoke in frantic haste. Not even a full day had passed, yet his face looked as gaunt as a man who had starved for days.
“Calm yourself.”
“Calm down? If you were in my position, would you be calm? You keep mistaking this for someone else’s problem, but the moment I open my mouth—”
Crack—!!!
Ice crystallized in Isaac’s palm, forming in an instant into the shape of a blade. A frigid aura streamed from it in visible currents. It was a simple application of basic frost magic, yet the execution was immaculate.
The ice blade hovered at Bill’s throat.
“I’d like you to remember that your head would roll before your mouth ever opened.”
“…Hhk.”
“You haven’t forgotten the contract, have you? You’ll die before you even speak.”
Isaac reminded him of its terms.
— You shall remain silent regarding Isaac and shall not bring harm to him.
— If you violate this, you will die.
— In whatever manner Isaac desires.
Resentment flooded Bill’s face.
“Prepare a place.”
“A place…?”
“Spread the word. Nias’ new leader will no longer be paying tribute to the knights. If they have complaints, they can come and voice them in person.”
“Are you out of your fucking mind?! You’re telling me to go die?!”
“I’ll be going myself.”
The ice blade Isaac had conjured rose into the air and began to spin slowly, lazily, as though savoring the chill it cast.
“What?”
Bill stared back at him, stupefied.
***⚜***
“These bastards have grown bold.”
“So Nias, that lunatic, is really dead.”
“Whoever replaced him is worse. At least Nias knew where his lifeline was tied.”
Pyke clicked his tongue as he gathered his equipment. Even after returning to the manor, he had not removed his gambeson or chainmail; all that remained was to strap on his sword and drape his robe across his shoulders.
“There’s no need for you to come, Pyke. I’m enough on my own.”
“Better that I do. They know our capabilities, yet they still dared provoke us like this. That means they have something they’re relying on. We should be properly prepared as well.”
“……………”
“Randolph. A word of caution. Show no mercy at the edge of your blade. They’re nothing but vermin gnawing away at Bern. They are neither subjects we are sworn to protect nor ones to whom we owe allegiance like Goethe.”
“I know.”
Under the pretense of conducting an outdoor patrol, the two knights borrowed a pair of horses and rode hard toward Bern; the wind cut against their faces like knives of steel, but neither so much as blinked. Compared to the northern gales of Winterband, this was no more than a gentle breeze.
They left their horses at the inn closest to the southern slums and made their way toward the abandoned wastewater channel. Pulling their hoods low, they tore strips from their robes to cover their mouths.
In truth, it was doubtful anyone in the slums could recognize northern knights to begin with. Still, caution never harmed a man.
The vagrants of the slums and sewers naturally avoided the knights.
Without the lord’s protection, they had no reason to pick a fight with those who looked strong.
The rotting stench itself kept them away from Pyke and Randolph.
“This place really gives me the creeps. Hey, Randolph, are you sure it’s this way?”
Pyke asked.
Since managing Nias was Randolph’s duty, Pyke wasn’t very familiar with the geography of the sewers.
A labyrinthine sewer.
The stench of feces and rotting corpses.
All kinds of unpleasant human sounds.
Groans, screams, mad laughter.
Pyke’s face twisted naturally.
“It’s the right way. But… something’s odd.”
“What?”
“I don’t see any of Nias’ men.”
Just as Randolph said, the thieves who should have been guarding the paths to prevent captives from escaping were nowhere to be seen.
“Did they all tuck their tails and run?”
“If they intended to run, why provoke us in the first place?”
“Good question.”
Pyke stroked his chin.
“Look at this.”
“What? It’s completely empty.”
Even the iron gates of the holding pens, where ‘merchandise’ was kept, were all wide open.
“What the hell happened? The guy who said he killed Nias…Did he really mean to destroy everything?”
Pyke twisted his neck to stretch.
Crack—!!! Crack—!!!
And the sound of bones echoed.
It was a habit he showed whenever something displeased him.
“I can’t figure out what they’re thinking.”
Randolph muttered as he looked at the open cages.
The slaughterhouse was the same.
The place where Nias, steeped in black magic, disposed of useless goods.
Though maggots and flies swarmed, there were only rotting organs and body parts.
No relatively fresh flesh was found.
“Nias being dead seems certain.”
“Yeah, seems that way.”
The two knights, having surveyed Nias’ hideout, eventually both drew daggers.
A longsword wasn’t the right choice for narrow sewer passages; the more they learned, the less they could grasp the enemy’s intentions.
Did they want money?
Were they bloodthirsty madmen?
Fanatics immersed in some ideology or cult?
Perverts obsessed with lust?
Those were the types of scum they had encountered before.
But the one who now called himself the leader of Nias didn’t fit any of those categories.
“……………”
Suddenly, Pyke stopped walking.
And Randolph, too, nodded.
Because deep inside Nias’ hideout, the place where Nias usually stayed, they felt someone’s presence there.
“If you’ve come, you should at least say hello.”
A voice came from inside, as if already aware of the knights’ presence.
But the voice was too young.
If you listened casually, it sounded like a monster mimicking a child’s voice.
“Bill, greet our guests.”
Creak—!!!
“Pl-please, c-come in.”
“………….”
With the sound of an old door creaking open, a man dressed in servant attire spoke.
His complexion was pale, and his face was completely terrified.
At least, he didn’t seem to pose any threat to them.
Unlike before, Nias’ room was now neat, filled not with the foul smell of human flesh but the subtle scent of herbs.
Though it couldn’t completely erase the sewer stench, it was relatively pleasant.
“This scent…”
Randolph immediately felt a strange sense of déjà vu and unease.
The herb scent was the same as the one used back at Goethe House.
“Must think you have nine lives, huh? New leader of Nias? Looks like your men all ran off in fear. Or maybe you didn’t even have the charisma that lunatic butcher had?”
Pyke said mockingly, glancing around the now-empty hideout.
The man sitting where Nias once sat said nothing.
Though he wore a hood, his childlike small frame couldn’t be hidden.
The torchlight and candelabras were too far to properly see his face.
“Mind if I ask one thing?”
The small man spoke with a child’s voice.
“Well, you’re about to die anyway. One question won’t hurt. Creepy little bastard pretending to be a kid.”
Pyke raised his dagger.
A faint blue light shimmered along the blade.
It was aura.
“Why did you do it?”
The small man stood up and pulled off his hood.
The moment he moved, Pyke, mistaking it for an attack, lunged toward him.
But Pyke soon felt a force pressing down on his shoulder.
“Randolph? What are you doing?”
“Kneel.”
Randolph grabbed Pyke’s shoulders and pulled him down.
“What the hell…!”
“Don’t you recognize who that is?”
Only then did Pyke lift his gaze to look at the man’s face.
“A real kid… no, young master?”
“Good to see you, Sir Pyke, Sir Randolph. How about some tea?”
