– Squeak!
An arrow tore through the wind and pierced the head of a soldier who had been driving civilians from the rear.
"Gasp!"
Midiam rapidly loosed arrows, targeting the soldiers who were forcing people toward the front lines, and each shot struck true, bringing them down one by one.
"Shield bearers!"
The soldiers, who had been using the people as human shields without much concern, believing they were beyond the range of ordinary arrows, were finally startled into raising their shields to protect their necks.
The moment when the laughter vanished from the faces of those who had pushed others into danger while watching from behind with amusement.
"Ahahaha!"
Midiam burst into laughter, standing boldly atop the fortress wall.
Yes, that man was not wrong.
Protecting the people was a beautiful sight.
In Midiam, who was still untainted by the filth of the world, who knew only honesty and righteousness, Ishmael saw an unparalleled beauty. A manifestation of pride, courage, and pure passion, shimmering under the morning sun.
How could one not be captivated?
Yet, cast over this beauty was the shadow of that man.
Realizing how profoundly Azadin had influenced Midiam, Ishmael could not fully enjoy the situation.
More than anything, taking down a few soldiers would not improve their circumstances. On the contrary, Midiam's actions would only worsen their position further.
***
While Midiam held back the enemy soldiers, Ishmael convinced the soldiers inside the fortress to briefly open the gate.
"Open the gate? Are you insane?"
"Where do you think you are, brat?"
"...No, wait. This girl, she's that one."
"That one? What do you mean?"
"A member of the Herald Clan."
"Huh? What?! A Herald? You mean those soulless monsters?"
"..."
"Hey, they'll hear you."
'Unless they're deaf, of course, they'll hear it. These Hubris folk, seriously…'
Under Ishmael's insistence, the soldiers reluctantly opened the secondary gate rather than the main one. Ishmael then handed small daggers to the people outside.
With them, those who had been forced to attack the fortress quickly cut the ropes binding them and slipped inside. However, not all of them entered.
"Why aren't you coming in? Use the knives I gave you to cut the ropes around your ankles and get inside!"
"Our families are being held hostage!"
"We left our children behind! If we enter the fortress now, they'll kill our kids."
They refused to take shelter inside the fortress, yet they also barely put any effort into attacking it. While Midiam's arrows kept the soldiers at bay, they deliberately engaged in half-hearted sabotage.
But the moment the soldiers threatened them with spears and swords, they would undoubtedly rush forward again.
"We have no choice. Close the gate."
Ishmael had the gate shut once more and stepped back.
***
Like an awl poking out of a pocket on its own, the exploits of these young boys and girls naturally became the talk of the fortress.
"They're from the Herald Clan?"
"Yeah. You know those women who escaped from the bandits? They said…"
"The Herald Clan—aren't they soulless heretics? But… they're rather good-looking, aren't they?"
People were openly gossiping about Ishmael and Midiam, and their words inevitably reached Ishmael's ears.
'Damn it. The women we rescued are blabbering about us.'
The people Ishmael and Midiam had saved and dragged all the way here seemed to have no concept of keeping their mouths shut. If they had any sense, they would've kept quiet. Instead, they outright declared, "Those kids are from the Herald Clan," without a second thought, making Ishmael's blood boil.
Of course, he knew it in his head—those women were just ordinary peasants. They had no combat training, barely any education, and many of them were illiterate.
Expecting them to think deeply before speaking was unrealistic. They had merely answered questions, unintentionally exposing Midiam and Ishmael's origins in the process.
"A Herald, you say? That's great!"
"Please save us!"
The soldiers who were supposed to defend this fortress, upon learning that Ishmael and Midiam were from the Herald Clan, were now clinging to them for protection instead.
At this moment, with Count Lantarik's army bearing down on them, they sought refuge in Ishmael and Midiam. But once the threat passed, these same people would surely remember their origins and report it to someone.
No matter how he looked at it, Ishmael could not bring himself to like these Hubris people.
But Midiam was different.
"Bring me arrows and bows."
Midiam decided to take supplies from them and continued firing arrows, forcing back the soldiers who had raised their shields.
"If you shoot too much, it'll strain your hands. You've already marched hard through the night…."
Ishmael had Midiam rest while he took her place at the watchtower.
"Catch your breath. If possible, try to get some sleep."
"Alright, thanks, Ishmael."
Midiam entrusted the defense to Ishmael and withdrew. A soldier approached her, scooping water from a container with a ladle.
"A-Are you alright, miss?"
"Of course."
Midiam gladly accepted the water and drank. There was always the possibility it was drugged, but she drank it anyway to show she trusted them.
***
Until noon, Count Lantarik's soldiers occasionally tested the defenses, only to be repelled by Ishmael's arrows each time.
Ishmael repeated the same cycle—resting with his bow in hand, waking when the soldiers roused him, and then shooting down enemies before lying down again. Both he and Midiam were exhausted from the previous night's march, but merely keeping the enemy wary with arrows greatly bolstered their morale.
However…
'They're up to something.'
Observing their movements, Ishmael sensed that the enemy had another plan.
'Even if they didn't bring siege weapons, if they really wanted to take this fortress, they would've thrown bodies at it until they succeeded. The fact that they're just sitting here means… wait?'
A sudden chill ran down Ishmael's spine.
He spun around.
There, standing atop the watchtower, was a man wearing a Herald mask.
It wasn't Azadin. While Azadin was notably tall, this man was just as tall but also massive in build—so large that he couldn't even strap the Herald Clan's Moon Horn Bow to his waist and instead wore it on his legs like greaves.
Most notably, he carried not one, but two bows on each leg, a total of four in all.
"Hello, kid. You're one of the Aragasa, aren't you?"
"Y-you are…?"
"Hmm. But you're not Heralds, you're a servant, right? Where is the Herald? Who's the Herald managing you?"
"We serve the 108th Herald, Azadin."
"Azadin… You mean the Eyeless Azadin?"
He was surprised to hear Azadin's name.
"Ah, impressive. Even that guy has servants. You seem pretty sharp for servants. What a waste on Azadin."
"Who are you?"
"That's disappointing. You don't know me? There's no one among our peers who doesn't. I'm the 94th Herald, Kahsan."
"Kahsan…."
"If I say 'Kahsan the Bowbreaker,' you should've heard of me."
As he spoke, Kahsan flexed his muscles, making them swell. Just looking at them was intimidating. Rather than a human, his physique resembled the lean, powerful frame of a horse or a massive hound. His very form seemed sculpted from savagery and violence.
"...."
He was called the Bowbreaker because he was so strong that he frequently snapped Moon Horn Bows. However, among the Herald Clan, breaking a bow wasn't always a compliment. It often meant someone was careless or inexperienced.
"This is a bit troublesome. Count Lantarik happens to be one of our clients."
"You mean the Count is a petitioner? But…."
The Gold Coin Petition system was created from the Emperor's desire to grant his people a way to seek justice. If it were used for noble territorial disputes and power struggles, that desire would be in vain.
Azadin had expressed his displeasure when Tarkiev, the illegitimate son of Margrave Salasma, became a Gold Coin petitioner for that very reason.
It was rare for nobles to be petitioners, let alone someone like Count Lantarik, who had openly started a war out of sheer territorial greed.
"Of course, he's not a Gold Coin petitioner. But there are other ways to be a client, aren't there?"
"...."
Hearing Kahsan's words, Ishmael frowned. In other words, Kahsan wasn't bound by a Gold Coin contract but was colluding with Count Lantarik for a different reason.
"That being said, would you mind stepping aside? Where is Azadin? I'd like to have a word with him. He's Arael's younger brother, isn't he?"
"Well…"
"Hmm. Judging by your reaction, he's not here, is he? How ridiculous. He leaves his servants to guard the fortress while he's nowhere to be found?"
Kahsan looked frustrated at the lack of a proper conversation.
"Well then, it would be an insult to even be obstructed by someone like Azadin, so I might as well take care of this now."
At that moment, Kahsan charged forward.
— Beauty of Nature, Twilight!
His massive figure blurred like a phantom, creating illusions as he dashed in. It was a perfect ambush. However, Ishmael had anticipated it.
'Considering Azadin's reputation, if my work and his ever clashed, I would also want to resolve it through force.'
Ishmael leaped off the fortress wall to avoid Kahsan's charge, grabbed onto Salasma's banner hanging from the outer wall, and swung himself back up onto the battlements.
"Wow! Not bad!"
Kahsan chuckled, impressed that Ishmael had deftly avoided his assault.
"Kahsan!"
A girl's voice called out from behind him.
Midiam, who had been resting, had woken up.
"Hm?"
Kahsan turned toward the sound of the voice, but all he saw was a coat fluttering as if speaking on its own. It was the spell of Beauty of Nature, Cuckoo.
"Aha!"
An arrow shot toward his temple. Kahsan opened his hand and swatted it aside. The moment he did, lightning surged through his body. It was an arrow imbued with Thunderclap.
"Oh!"
Despite his limbs going limp from the lightning shock, Kahsan was still grinning.
"Even if you fall to me, don't feel too humiliated. After all, I am Midiam of Aether!"
Midiam fired another arrow at Kahsan's throat while he was paralyzed. But Kahsan, as if he had never been struck by lightning, sprang to life and dodged the shot. And then…
"Aether, you say?"
Kahsan stomped the ground, sending a deafening shockwave through the fortress. The bricks of the battlements trembled—each one massive, about the size of a person's leg.
"Ugh!?"
Midiam was momentarily caught off guard. In that instant, Kahsan closed the distance. In a desperate attempt, Midiam drew her sword and slashed at him.
But Kahsan effortlessly struck down her blade with his bare hand, shattering it, then grabbed her and hurled her off the fortress.
The watchtower was far too high for even a member of the Herald Clan to simply jump down safely.