"Count Lantarik has been deeply immersed in the prophecy of Jupiter since his youth, because the light of the king's virtue is indeed fading."
"What nonsense!"
Though his position as a Holy Knight was unintentionally in jeopardy, Zebeck's faith had not wavered. Yet, seeing an old man spouting such blasphemous words before him, he could not help but feel enraged.
Was this man mocking him as a Holy Knight?
Under normal circumstances, he would have immediately executed him for daring to blaspheme against the king's church. However, in his current position, Zebeck was in no place to punish others as a Holy Knight. More than anything, he instinctively knew that the old man was speaking the truth.
'At the very least, he believes it to be true. And he even claims that Count Lantarik shares this belief.'
The sheer anger in Brand's voice was too intense to dismiss as the ramblings of a senile old man.
"For what reason would Count Lantarik believe in such a grim prophecy?"
"You are a Holy Knight, are you not? Then you should already know. According to ancient records, every Holy Knight of the king's church once wielded healing magic. But now, only the divine kings—those who have ascended to the throne—can perform miracles, and even then, only by shedding their own blood. That is not all. The light of the king's virtue is truly weakening."
"..."
"Count Lantarik knew this. He is a grand noble of such stature that he could perceive it. And it is not just him. The royal family, the high priests and high-ranking Holy Knights of the king's church, they all know the truth. The very foundation of the king's church, the light of the king's virtue, is fading. The blood of the Yaegas Divine Clan is thinning. This is an undeniable fact."
Zebeck thought Brand's words went too far, daring to discuss the high officials of the king's church in such a manner. However, recalling Zekt, who had resorted to black magic, a sudden suspicion arose in his mind.
'Could it be that Sir Zekt, knowing this truth, turned to black magic? Seeking another power, since the light of the king's virtue was no longer enough?'
Even as the thought crossed his mind, Zebeck shook his head.
"That cannot be."
"Hm. You are a fine Holy Knight indeed."
It was hard to tell whether Brand's words were meant as sarcasm or genuine praise.
"Many of the grand nobles, including Count Lantarik, who have witnessed the twilight of the Yaegas Divine Clan, have turned to black magic or attempted inbreeding to somehow purify the bloodline once more. Count Lantarik did both."
"Inbreeding… you say?"
Azadin clicked his tongue. Inbreeding was the practice of interbreeding among close relatives to restore the ancient traits of a prestigious bloodline.
Was he saying that those close to the Yaegas Divine Clan had done such a thing?
"Yes. The count's underground chambers are filled with the remains of countless children. The failed products of inbreeding, buried in secret."
"This… as a Holy Knight of the church, I cannot tolerate such blasphemy. Do you have any proof?"
"I did. That is precisely why I was fleeing from Count Lantarik's lands while gathering such evidence. But I was caught by his informant, Doneor, and the evidence was taken from me."
"So, you no longer have it."
"But there is another copy in Lantarik."
"You are suggesting we go find it."
"That's right. But for now, could you warm-blooded animals quiet down?"
Shati grumbled as she examined Azadin's injuries. His broken ribs had been tightly bandaged, leading to some minor inflammation, but the more severe wound was the one inflicted by the black steel arrow.
As she removed the bandages, pus and blood still seeped from the wound.
"My word. You were walking around like this…?"
Zebeck was appalled that Azadin had not only moved around with such severe injuries but had even fought battles.
"Che."
Shati soaked a cloth in strong liquor, wiping the wound clean. Then, she pricked her own finger, drawing blood, and traced a circular pattern around the wound with it.
"Queen Cobra Devislin, grant your lowly servant strength."
As she invoked Devislin, the goddess of the Nagas, the power of green mana activated, and Azadin's wound rapidly scabbed over.
"Ohh."
"Amazing."
The spectators marveled at the sight.
"You're all staring at me like that, it's making me uncomfortable."
Azadin, lying down with his chest exposed, gave a wry smile.
"You know, I healed you like this before, and you went right back into battle, tearing the scab open again. If you do that again, I'm not healing you. Regeneration magic doesn't get stronger with repeated casting. It just speeds up healing time, but reopening wounds is still the same."
As Shati scolded him, Midiam scoffed.
"Hah. What, does a prisoner think she has a choice? If we tell you to do it, you do it."
"A prisoner, me?"
"What else? Are you saying you're a guest?"
"Why is this warm-blooded animal picking a fight with me? Is it because he's uglier than me and feeling inferior?"
"What!?"
As Midiam and Shati bickered, Brand interjected.
"White magic heals through restoration. It erases the very traces of a wound's existence. Green mana, however, heals through regeneration. It simply accelerates the natural healing process. Ah, am I explaining magic to mages now?"
Brand grinned.
"This is proof that white magic is weakening. In the past, the magic wielded by the Holy Knights of the king's church was far stronger than the magic of the Kurt Divine Clan."
"Why does this warm-blooded fool pick fights with both a Holy Knight and me? How dare you belittle the magic of Queen Cobra after I went through the trouble of healing him?"
Shati snapped at Brand as well. With the treatment finished, Azadin put his clothes back on and tried to settle the situation.
"Alright, alright, calm down. So, Count Lantarik has been dabbling in black magic since his youth? Because he saw firsthand that the prophecy of Jupiter was coming true, that the power of the Yaegas Divine Clan was fading?"
"And so Count Lantarik sought various means to counteract it, which led him to…"
"The Emperor's Mint?"
"More than that, something far greater. The Emperor's Treasury."
"Wow."
Azadin unconsciously whistled.
"The word 'treasury' makes it feel much more real."
"There is a physical key required to open it. And clues to find that key. But I am not in my right mind at the moment, so I cannot fully trust the memories in my head. That is why I must return to Lantarik and retrieve the records I hid."
"Hm."
Azadin fell into thought at Brand's words.
"For now, let's eat, rest, and then cross the river. There are abandoned houses in a nearby village—we can gather doors and other materials to make a raft or floating logs."
***
Azadin and his party set up camp near the Kora River.
"They say beans are for horses and goats, but we're running low on food for ourselves."
Azadin had generously given away his supplies to the refugees, leaving his own group short on provisions.
"Should we catch some fish?"
"Me?"
Ishmael let out a sigh as he looked at Azadin, who was asking him for a favor.
"Yes, I'm counting on you. I need to rest a little longer. I acted tough for no reason and now I'm paying for it."
Though he had put on a strong front in front of others, Azadin himself had sustained numerous injuries and was exhausted.
"Understood."
"I'll help too."
Zebeck stepped forward to assist.
"There's no need."
"No, actually, fishing is my specialty."
Saying so, Zebeck pulled out a specialized fishing hook from his belongings.
"If I were at my family estate, I'd be able to use the fishing rod I personally crafted. It's a shame I can't."
In other words, his interest wasn't in food but in fishing itself.
"You must really enjoy fishing."
"It's not that I like fishing, it's that fishing likes me."
'This is serious.'
Hearing Zebeck's words, Ishmael realized just how deeply he was into fishing.
"In that case, you're going to be disappointed watching me."
Saying so, Ishmael tied a line to an arrow. He fired it toward the water—
— Thwack!
A large fish was skewered by the arrow and pulled from the river.
"..."
As Zebeck, who had just taken out his fishing hook, stood there flustered, Ishmael fired another arrow and caught another fish. He continued hitting his targets one after another, causing Zebeck's expression to visibly darken.
"Hmm, this isn't fishing."
"Exactly."
Ishmael pulled on the fishing line to retrieve the fish skewered by his arrows. As he was doing so, a patrol unit from Count Lantarik's outpost—a knight on horseback and four infantrymen—approached.
"What's this about?"
"Should we avoid them?"
"No, if we flee, they'll only find it suspicious. I am a Holy Knight of the king's church. Why should I hide?"
Zebeck and Ishmael heightened their vigilance in case something happened…
"Move aside!"
"If you don't want to die, get out of the way!"
The patrol shouted first, yet they weren't closing the distance at all.
"Move aside, you say…?"
If they wanted people to move, they should be running toward them with some urgency. But they were already exhausted—even the knight's horse was foaming at the mouth. They were practically crawling toward them, barely moving forward.
Even so, just in case, Ishmael made a show of stepping aside, but it still took a long while for the patrol to finally reach them.
Upon closer inspection, their armor was damaged and stained with blood—something serious must have happened.
"Huff… Huff…."
"Damn it, I told you to move!"
"I did move. An entire swarm of flies already passed by here faster than you lot."
Ishmael snarked, but Zebeck cut in to smooth things over.
"I am Zebeck, Holy Knight of the king's church. What has happened?"
"A… A Holy Knight?"
"Thank the heavens!"
The soldiers and the knight sighed in relief.
"T-The undead attacked our outpost. We must warn Count Lantarik immediately."
"The undead?"
"Well…."
"The local villagers have turned into undead. The Count was right! These villagers were all cultists!"
"Cultists? Calm yourself and explain properly."
After crossing the Kora River, Count Lantarik's army had seized control of a riverside village with a dock to establish a foothold. In doing so, they massacred the village's inhabitants.
The Count's goal was to gain a strategic advantage in the territorial dispute. With his permission, his troops had slaughtered the native Salasma villagers freely, committing murder, looting, and arson. But last night, the corpses of the dead had suddenly begun to rise.
"We executed them because they were cultists. We swear, it wasn't a massacre."
The knight from Count Lantarik's forces tried to justify their actions, but his oath only served to highlight how lightly such vows were made.
'They didn't kill them because they were cultists. They killed them to loot their possessions.'
Zebeck thought so, but as a Holy Knight, he couldn't outright dismiss the knight's sworn testimony without evidence.
"They didn't kill them because they were cultists. They killed them for loot."
Unlike Zebeck, Ishmael had no such restraints and bluntly spoke the truth.