"So, the frontier people are lazy, and now, just because there's been a little less rain, they want to cross over into other people's well-cultivated, fertile lands to live? What kind of lord would allow that?"
Tarkiev didn't bother to hide his prejudice, bias, and disdain toward the frontier people. It was clear he didn't even think such sentiments were something to be concealed.
"The poor are poor for a reason."
"Hm."
Azadin clicked his tongue at Tarkiev's remark.
"If you end up as the loser in the succession battle and have to enter the king's church, would that also be 'for a reason'?"
"What? Are you trying to insult me?"
"Yes, I am. What are you going to do about it?"
"Ah, no, but I paid my petition with gold!"
Tarkiev knew full well he was no match for Azadin and didn't dare to argue.
"I envy that attitude of yours, looking down on others despite being a bastard. If only I were as dimwitted as you, I might have lived each day in bliss. Have you ever even earned a single coin with your own hands?"
"But I'm still a noble! My father is Count Kazel, the margrave of Salasma, and my mother is the daughter of Baron Nord and also part of the Kozin Firm ...."
"And my job is killing nobles. If you knew why my clan is called the Divine King Slayers, you wouldn't be flaunting your noble blood in front of me."
"...."
Now that he thought about it, it was true. Boasting about his noble lineage in front of someone infamous for killing nobles was sheer folly.
"Luckily for you, you're not much of a noble. If you were a true noble, you would have burned away Arthra's minions that are gnawing at your body with magic."
"Y-you couldn't use magic either, so you had the little one do it!"
"That's why I don't look down on the frontier people. Be humble before fate. You were lucky enough to be born into a noble family, to grow up without starving, doing whatever you pleased, yet you dare to belittle others? Be grateful that you're even able to breathe with that empty head of yours, incapable of understanding why frontier lands are less productive than fertile ones."
While reprimanding Tarkiev, Azadin picked up a halberd from a fallen soldier nearby and examined its blade. It had belonged to the guard captain, and the blade was remarkably well-crafted.
Gripping the weapon, Azadin approached the Spider Mercenary who was slaughtering people at the gate.
He didn't attack immediately but instead used nearby obstacles to get as close as possible, then climbed the wall and leaped down from above, striking with a single, decisive blow.
—Thud!
With just one strike, the mercenary's head flew off.
"If I cut off the head, it works well."
Azadin severed the Spider Mercenary's head, quickly scattered straw over it, and tossed a torch, setting it ablaze.
With their captain gone, the Spider Mercenaries lost all sense of reason, focusing solely on satiating their hunger.
Thanks to that, the damage wasn't as severe as it could have been. Instead of seeking new victims, they were prioritizing their ravenous hunger, feasting on the corpses of those they had already killed.
However, if frightened survivors attacked them, the mercenaries retaliated and slaughtered them in return. That was why people were fleeing as far as they could from the Spider Mercenaries.
Taking advantage of the chaos, Azadin began eliminating them one by one.
"…The petition has been resolved, and we've culled a fair number. Killing them further would be pointless."
Ishmael, supporting Midiam, advised Azadin. In other words, he was suggesting they leave the village to be ravaged by the monsters and let the people be slaughtered.
'This guy is surprisingly cold and ruthless for his age. Or is he just irritated because of Midiam?'
Azadin etched Ishmael's blunt words into his memory and responded.
"Sorry, but this is what the one who filed the petition would have wanted. Just because they died doesn't mean I'll take the gold for nothing."
"No way. If anything, they were probably just trying to save their own skin, like that bastard over there."
"B-bastard? Did you just say that to me?"
Tarkiev was furious at Ishmael for calling him a bastard. The sheer audacity of a child speaking so freely enraged him.
"Enough. That's enough."
Azadin aimed the halberd at Tarkiev.
"Say no more. I admit these guys have sharp tongues, but you're still just a bastard."
"No, at least let me say my name—"
"For what? I don't want to waste space in my memory. 'Bastard' is plenty."
Forcing Tarkiev to shut his mouth, Azadin moved toward the remaining Spider Mercenaries. They were all too engrossed in their feasting to maintain formation.
He could take them down one by one.
"Hmph, let's get started."
Azadin crept toward a Spider Mercenary that was hunched over, gnawing on a corpse.
As he stepped within range, the mercenary turned to face him, wary, like a beast guarding its territory.
But that wariness was meaningless.
—Blur!
Azadin's body flickered and suddenly appeared right within the mercenary's guard. With a single stroke of his halberd—one clean slash—the Spider Mercenary's head was severed.
Small spiders attempted to stitch up the wound, but once detached, there was nothing they could do.
"Grrk!"
Another Spider Mercenary lunged at Azadin, but he swung his halberd diagonally, cutting off its arm, spider legs, and neck in one fluid motion.
"They were a pain at first, but I'm getting used to this. However…."
Azadin noticed the halberd becoming unsteady. Cutting through human neck bones, reflexively raised arms, and spider legs reinforced with exoskeletons had put considerable strain on the weapon's shaft.
Seeing the wooden shaft splinter and bend, he decided to detach the halberd's head and keep it, then grabbed a fallen mercenary's sword.
"How many are left, bastard?"
Azadin's question flustered Tarkiev.
'W-wait, this is insane. Is this what it means to be one of the Herald Clan?'
Tarkiev even felt a sense of awe at Azadin's combat prowess. He didn't appreciate being called a bastard repeatedly, but he had no desire to provoke Azadin's temper.
As Azadin caught his breath and glanced around, a commotion arose from the north.
"The king's church!"
"The king's church has arrived to save the people!"
"We're saved!"
The cheers of the people rang out—it seemed the king's church had come from a nearby location to rescue the townsfolk.
***
Originally, the king's church had been formed by holy knights who sought to protect the people from the Kurt Divine Clan and monsters while upholding the king's law.
Since lords who owned their own territories were only concerned with their own wealth, a group of holy knights without personal land holdings had been necessary.
In the beginning, they had a noble mission. However, over time, the king's church had become completely secularized. This was due to the nature of its three main groups of members.
The first group was criminals.
Those of noble blood who had broken the king's law could avoid punishment by joining the king's church.
The second group was those who had lost in courtly power struggles.
When siblings fought over inheritance rights, those who failed to inherit the position of family head were often assassinated. If they wished to avoid death, their only option was to renounce all claims to inheritance and enter the king's church.
The third group was bastards.
Although they carried noble blood and could wield white magic, bastards had no right to participate in succession disputes and often found themselves entering the king's church.
With so many people joining, the church grew in influence, which in turn sowed the seeds of discord.
It took a great deal of money to feed and arm the church's holy knights. As a powerful militant order, the king's church forcibly extracted resources from the king and nobility, intervening in succession wars to further strengthen its authority.
It was for this reason that the salvation knight order, once considered heretical, eventually received official recognition from the Eight Divine Kingdoms.
If all nobles and bastards were sent to the king's church, power and military strength would become concentrated there. To keep them in check, another order of holy knights was necessary.
***
For these reasons, the king's church was usually feared, but in a situation like this, its presence was a relief.
"The king's church?"
However, to Azadin, a member of the Herald Clan, they were nothing but a nuisance. He had already dealt with most of the minions, and now they decided to show up?
"What should we do?"
"Well, since it's the king's church, they won't be completely helpless against the Kurt Divine Clan's minions. Let's leave the rest to them. There's no benefit in meeting them."
Azadin abandoned his hunt for the Spider Mercenaries and summoned his Kerim goat.
"The petition has been fulfilled, petitioner."
Azadin turned to Tarkiev and spoke.
"Ah… Oh. Y-yeah."
"Anything else you want to request? Something other than a foolish demand like making you a count."
"T-then… please, just help me escape from here."
Tarkiev, clearly frightened of Azadin, had begun speaking in a more respectful tone.
"If the king's church starts investigating, they'll find out that the mercenaries responsible for this mess were hired by me. If that happens… I'm finished! I need to flee somewhere beyond their reach."
"I understand. In any case, I can't just let the king's church kill a petitioner who paid in gold."
Azadin allowed Tarkiev to accompany them. Granting his wish to become a count was out of the question, but letting him be captured by the king's church was also unwise. If tortured, he would spill everything immediately.
"Then, let's make our escape."
***
Azadin and his group escaped the relay station village through the western gate, heading westward. After the continuous battles and forced marches, not only Azadin but everyone else was exhausted.
"Ugh, I just took a bath and changed into fresh clothes yesterday."
Midiam groaned, drenched in sweat. It felt unreal that she had bathed and put on clean clothes just the day before at the Korasar Peddlers' Guild caravan.
The refreshing sensation had completely vanished in a single day, replaced by sweat and dust, ruining her fresh garments.
"Alright, the sun is rising. We've come far enough that we don't need to worry about the king's church anymore. Let's rest."
Azadin ordered a break and stopped by the roadside.
Nearby, farm buildings were visible, but hunting dogs stood guard at the entrances.
The farmers would likely begin their work soon. Perhaps they could rent a stable or some other shelter once the farmers were up and about.
As he pondered this, the eastern sky slowly brightened, bathing the world in shades of violet. Leaning against a tree, Azadin absentmindedly watched the sunrise.
"What are you doing?"
Midiam asked.
"Watching the sunrise. The sight of the boundary where the sun drives away the darkness as it races across the sky is awe-inspiring every time."
Azadin answered Midiam's question while lost in thought. He was certainly tired, but he had reached that state of exhaustion where sleep simply wouldn't come.
'This kind of exhaustion is the worst for one's condition.'