Chapter 12 | The Assassin Departs
After Father told me about the trial, it was decided that I’d depart in three days.
Now that I’d been deemed ready to take on real medical and assassination jobs, I was to undergo a trial away from home.
Before my departure for this last challenge, my relatives gathered for a commemorative banquet in my honor.
I usually saw people from the branch family only once a month, but I made sure to remember all their names and faces. They were a valuable source of fighting strength. While the bloodline was thinner among the branch family compared to the head family, its members still possessed mana. If war broke out, we would end up leading the branch family into battle.
To reduce the risk of our secret being exposed, only the head family performed actual assassinations, but the branch family could undertake medical jobs.
I’d always tried to be friendly with the branch family, but a certain someone had been glaring daggers throughout the night of the banquet.
That someone was Ronah, a cousin four years my senior. He hadn’t so much as glanced at his food, but he’d certainly had plenty to drink.
Ronah suddenly stood up, downed the rest of his drink, and hurled the glass at me.
I’d been wary that he was going to try something all night, so I easily caught the glass and set it back down on the table. That only made him angrier, a vein now bulging from his forehead.
“I won’t accept it! I won’t accept that this little brat is the next head of House Tuatha Dé!”
It’d been obvious for a while that Ronah harbored such feelings. He’d always been quick to pick a quarrel with me during joint training sessions with the branch family.
Now that I was being celebrated like this, I thought it likely that his frustrations would finally boil over into some kind of outburst, and it seemed I was right. I felt a murderous rage emanating from Tarte, who was standing behind me. I signaled her not to act.
Ronah’s father looked like he was about to shout at his son, but Father said that wasn’t necessary, and he addressed Ronah himself.
“Hmm. Do you have some sort of objection to Lugh’s inheritance, Ronah?”
“I was supposed to be the heir after Ruff! There’s no fucking way a weak little kid like him can succeed you! I’m stronger than him! I should be the next head of House Tuatha Dé.”
Ruff was my deceased older sibling. Mother and Father avoided talking about Ruff to a mysterious degree, and I couldn’t even find any records, so I didn’t know their age or gender.
It seemed Ronah thought that the house would fall to him next, and that was why he hated me so much. Being so despised was hardly a pleasant feeling.
“So that’s what you have to say. Sorry, but you don’t have what it takes to inherit House Tuatha Dé. You’re fundamentally wrong about what’s necessary to succeed in the position. It sounds like you’re arguing that physical strength alone should decide the heir, but the Tuatha Dé are assassins. Only a third-rate assassin allows themselves to fall into situations where they’re forced to rely on combat. We only work on our combat prowess as insurance for the miniscule chance that something goes wrong.” My father’s words couldn’t have been more correct. If you ended up in a situation where you had to fight, that meant your intent to kill had been discovered. The assassination was almost surely a failure at that point.
That wasn’t to discount strength entirely, of course.
Strength could ensure a job got done even after being discovered. It also gave you a fighting chance of escaping if you were surrounded by guards, giving you the chance to recover and try again. No one would say it was worthless, but strength was not a top priority.
“Shut the hell up! What’s wrong with killing your opponent head-on like a man?!”
Ronah was giving me a headache. Our job was to discreetly remove those who were causing damage to the country and could not be dealt with using lawful means. On the small chance that our role as assassins was ever exposed, the royal family would deny any culpability and we’d be tossed aside.
It was unbelievable that my cousin didn’t understand that. Ronah’s father was holding his head in his hands. I felt sorry for the man.
“Such a statement provokes a number of responses. If, hypothetically, Lugh proves to be stronger than you, will you recognize him as the heir of House Tuatha Dé?” my father asked.
“Of course I will. But if I’m stronger, I’ll take that seat for myself!!!” Ronah declared. His eyes were sparkling, and the edges of his mouth were curled in a cocky smile. The young man was embarrassingly immature.
“Then so be it. See if you can defeat my son. Right now,” my father stated plainly.
“Wha—? …GAH!” Ronah gasped pathetically. I’d pushed a knife enveloped in mana against his throat.
His skin was pierced slightly, and blood began to trickle down. If I’d wanted to kill him, I could have. He would’ve died before realizing what’d even happened, before there was ever a chance for a real fight. That’s what it meant to be an assassin.
“Well then, it would seem that Lugh is stronger than you after all. Is this enough to satisfy you?” my father asked.
“U-u-uhhh…”
That was disappointingly abrupt. From where the conversation was heading, I’d guessed something like this would happen. I’d used the fact that Ronah’s attention was focused on Father to creep over and lurk in his blind spot. Then all I had to do was attack as soon as Father gave the signal.
“Th-that was unfair!” Ronah whined.
“That’s what it takes to be an assassin. We’re not knights. I believe I already made this clear, but it seems you have the wrong idea about who the Tuatha Dé are… Lugh, please put away the knife.”
I did as requested and placed the knife back in its scabbard. As soon as I did so, Ronah came at me again.
“WHO THE HELL SAID I LOST?!” He wound up for a punch, having now completely lost his temper.
… This is absurd. Why does he think this will prove him worthy to inherit House Tuatha Dé? I thought.
I dodged Ronah’s arm, twisted him onto my back, then flipped him over with a shoulder throw. He tried to get up, and I put him in a choke hold. He thrashed with all his might but couldn’t escape my grip. Tiring of his pointless resistance, I broke his arm.
“GAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
There really was no need for him to make such a fuss about all this. I’d made a point to break the limb cleanly so that it could easily be mended. With the use of his own mana and the Tuatha Dé medical treatment, a full recovery was likely to take only around two days.
“Surely you can see it now. Even in a normal fight, Lugh is stronger. I said strength isn’t the top priority, but it is still necessary. You may be a third-rate assassin if you need to rely on combat, but it does allow you leeway to attempt certain risks,” Father said.
An assassin should try their best to avoid contact, but your options were restricted if you weren’t able to fight at all. With any luck, this demonstration had served to break Ronah’s will and he wouldn’t be causing any more trouble.
“How about that, everyone. Isn’t my son impressive? I guarantee you all, he is a genius that tops me as both an assassin and a doctor. His actions just now were proof enough of that!” my father exclaimed, breaking the tension and lightening the mood in the room.
Ronah’s parents wore clearly troubled looks, but everyone else praised me as a worthy successor. Perhaps Father had intentionally egged on Ronah so that he’d have a chance to boast about my skill.
I made a note to follow up with Ronah later. There was a good chance he’d end up serving under me one day, after all.
At last, the day of my departure arrived. I prepared a gift and went to visit Ronah.
“What the hell do you want? Come to make some snide remark, have you?” he said acidly.
“Not at all. I just thought you’ve seemed down the last couple days.”
I chose to speak to him with a more casual tone, despite our age difference. It would’ve been unfitting to speak to him politely, given my higher rank.
“… I’m not feeling down. I’m just pissed at myself. I lost to a kid four years younger than me.”
“If you want to put it like that, Father lost to a kid thirty years younger than him,” I said.
“So the rumors were true, huh? The most powerful Tuatha Dé in history was defeated by a twelve-year-old. I never stood a chance.” Ronah smiled self-deprecatingly.
“That’s true. There was no way for you to defeat me in battle…but you don’t have to. Once I become head of this house, I’m going to bring great prosperity to House Tuatha Dé. If you serve me, I promise to treat you well. You lost to me, but you’re still strong. I watched the young knights’ tournament in the royal capital last year. Of the twenty contestants, I can only say that four of them were stronger than you. I want your service, Ronah. I expect great things of you as a knight of House Tuatha Dé.”
Knights were a standing army made up of second and third sons who didn’t stand to inherit their father’s seat, plus the occasional rare mage born as a commoner. In order to be made a knight, you had to overcome strict trials.
Their combat training was far more intense than that of nobles, who were only called to battle in times of emergency.
Not only was Ronah able to hold his own among those twenty young knights at the tournament, he was almost certainly better than most of them. While an overly simplistic thinker and not suitable for assassination work, he would surely be an asset to House Tuatha Dé in the years to come because of his strength.
“Hey, is that supposed to be praise?”
“Yeah, it is. And I’m inviting you into my service.”
“You’re an idiot, you know that? Who would be happy to be told that there are four people the same age who are stronger than them? I guess I appreciate the sentiment, though. I prefer that to flattery just meant to cheer me up.”
“This is for you,” I said, handing my cousin something.
“… This is a sword? It’s unbelievably light. It’s nice and sharp, too. Is this a magic blade or something?”
“Yeah, a sword suits you better than a knife. Both in terms of personality and physical makeup, you’re more suited to a soldier’s position than assassination. Our house has room enough for knights as well as assassins. One of these days, I’d like you to use that sword for me.”
Ronah hung the sword from his hip and let out a deep sigh.
“Get out!” Ronah cried.
It seemed my entreaty had failed. Judging by the kind of man Ronah was, I’d thought for sure this sort of appeal would’ve worked. I put my hand to the door.
“When you return in two years, I’m going to be much improved. I understand now that I’m not fit to be an assassin. I’ll become the knight you want me to be, so you go do your job,” Ronah called as I made to leave.
“Sounds good. Let’s both do our best,” I replied.
Apparently, people like Ronah weren’t good at speaking honestly about their feelings. I made a point to remember that.
At any rate, I’d just gained a talented young knight. I was sure to put him to good use once I became head of my family.
The next day, I was seen off by my parents and citizens of the domain before departing in a horse-drawn carriage.
“You don’t need to come with me, you know. Even without me here, I can entrust your training to the branch family. And Milteu is a city of commerce. It’s very different,” I said.
“That doesn’t matter! I am your retainer, my lord! No matter where you go, I will look after you.”
Tarte had insisted on coming with me. She was panting after loading some heavy luggage.
As it happened, my mother called Tarte to her room and had a long talk with her last night. It’d probably been to discuss the mom of the identity I was slipping into. I’m sure my actual mother had filled Tarte’s head full of nonsense.
Before I boarded the carriage, I’d used dye to conceal the silver hair I’d inherited from my mother. For the two years that I was going to be living as Illig, I couldn’t risk showing any hint of my true self.
“I’m so excited for Milteu, my lord,” Tarte said.
“Me too,” I replied. My mind was abuzz with curiosity as to what kind of place Milteu was.
I’d promised Father that in these two years I would learn about the world, make personal connections, build an information network, and become a successful merchant.
The goal was to become such an exemplary trader that my rivals would hire assassins to try to eliminate me. It would be fun to be on the receiving end of an assassination attempt for a change, and it would give me an opportunity to learn something from my assailant.
Under normal methods, it was impossible to achieve such a level of accomplishment in only two years, but that’s precisely what I found exciting. I’d already started to form a plan that would take Milteu by storm.
I vowed to do my best to leave my mark on the world as Illig Balor.
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