The World’s Finest Assassin Gets Reincarnated in Another World as an Aristocrat - Volume 6 - Chapter 17

Chapter 17 | The Assassin Goes to the Holy Land Again

Our carriages resumed travel early the next morning. Dia and Tarte told me that they were both placed on different wagons and that their camps were made hundreds of meters from mine. They were being watched, too, though not as heavily as me. It seemed that the instructors were under the impression that while we operated as a team, I was the only one who held special strength.

That said, the instructors had assigned a team of Class S upperclassmen to supervise Dia and Tarte. And Nevan was in charge.

So that’s why Nevan gave me an immediate reply when I asked for her help.

Dia, Tarte, and I didn’t have the power to overcome the demon’s trap alone. With the three of us under constant observation, I needed someone who could act freely. It couldn’t just be anyone, either; they had to understand the situation and still be willing to help.

Nevan was the only person I could think of who satisfied those conditions, but I’d expected that gaining her cooperation would be difficult. Upperclassmen at the Royal Academy were treated almost the same as active knights, meaning they were handed a variety of duties and spent a great amount of time away from campus. Nevan may have been a Romalung, but she couldn’t ignore her responsibilities. Her authority as the daughter of a duke meant nothing at the academy.

She was able to accept my request in spite of that because her duties already took her to the Holy Land…to watch over Dia and Tarte. Nevan acting as their chaperone suits us perfectly. Dia and Tarte will be able to fill her in on my plans.

We were currently taking a lunch break, and circumstances were giving me a small headache.

Did they seriously think a Tuatha Dé wouldn’t notice this amateurish method of poisoning?

The instructors had mixed sleeping medication and a muscle relaxant into my soup, but they were both the type that you could smell. Also, despite soup being a convenient food to make while camping, because you could prepare a large amount all at once, they had gone out of their way to cook mine in a separate smaller pot. It was as if they were crying out for me to suspect them.

If I was going to have Tarte poison somebody, I would choose a drug with little taste or smell and hide its presence by serving a broth with a strong taste and fragrance.

While stifling my astonishment, I ate a spoonful. I conjectured about the type of poison as I tasted it. My body had antibodies that resisted toxins because I’d been ingesting them since early childhood, and Rapid Recovery counteracted poison in no time. This caliber of drug was no problem.

However, if the poison didn’t affect me, I could see the instructors resorting to violence to try to subdue me. Epona believed in my innocence, so I wasn’t scared of whatever the instructors attempted, but her getting involved now would cause me problems down the line.

With that in mind, I guessed at the effects this poison would have on an ordinary person so I could act them out. After ten minutes, I’d pretend my body was growing heavy and my vision hazy. Then I’d become completely immobilized and fall asleep. The instructors bought it, restraining me without suspecting a thing or noticing I was feigning sleep.

They’re using Sorcerer Cuffs, a tool for mage criminals. They’re also giving me a stronger oral muscle relaxant, as if the bindings aren’t enough.

Mages essentially always had a weapon, even when unarmed. All it took was a simple spell to break out of prison. That was why special precautions against mages had been developed. They were designed to diffuse mana and rendered even elite mages unable to cast magic. The instructors used three sets of them on me.

That may have sounded like a problem, but the cuffs weren’t going to prevent me from using spells. Their effects were strong, but the scattered mana just drifted in the surrounding air. I’d used my Spell Weaver skill to develop many spells with Dia, and one of those counteracted Sorcerer Cuffs. Essentially, it gathered the mana scattered into the air and used it to break the anti-mage bindings.

I can break out of my restraints at any time. The problem right now is the muscle relaxant. The drug was nothing my poison immunities and Rapid Recovery couldn’t handle. However, acting out the effects was going to be extremely challenging. This strong of a drug would cause my bladder and sphincters to relax, which means I should be soiling myself. If I don’t, they might realize the chemical isn’t working.

I wouldn’t have hesitated to soil myself in my previous life. Now, though, I had no desire to do so. I didn’t want Dia and Tarte to witness such a shameful sight.

Geez, becoming more human comes with its own host of problems.

In the end, I relieved myself like I needed to. Maintaining the facade was more critical than maintaining my ego. There was no explanation for not soiling myself after a drug like that. Fortunately, they immediately changed my pants and underwear, but that was humiliating in and of itself.

Funnily enough, the instructors began to leak information to me unwittingly as I pretended to be unconscious. I was to be handed to the church as soon as we reached the Holy Land, and my trial was scheduled to begin promptly. If I lost, I’d be executed. That was the way it should have been, anyhow. Considering the church’s influence, my death and guilt had already been decided.

Not all of the instructors blindly believed the church, and some even thought it would be best to defend me. Yet as members of the military, they couldn’t disobey orders. That was what motivated their actions.

So the pigs in the capital are following orders from the church and turning me in without question… Do they understand what this will mean? With me out of the picture, they won’t be able to keep Epona at their doorstep. That was how scared they were of Alamism’s leaders. It didn’t feel good being discarded this easily after risking my life to kill demons.

I recalled words my dad had once told me. “Tuatha Dé is the blade that cuts unhealthy presences out of the Alvanian Kingdom. We hold that pride in our hearts and do what we believe is right… But the country sees us as nothing more than expendable tools. If need be, they will cast us aside.”

I’d always understood that. That was what assassins were. No job could’ve been more thankless. The reason I still fought was to protect the Tuatha Dé domain. I wanted to protect the place where my parents, Dia, Tarte, and Maha lived. The place I had come to belong.

Even poor treatment like this would not cause me to waver in that conviction. The kingdom may have been trying to discard me, but I was still going to do what I had to.

For myself and the people I love, I will excise this tumor—this pest—that threatens this world.

I sharpened that feeling into a blade as the instructors relinquished me to the church. The members of the church who collected my body injected me with even more drugs, a psychotropic and an intoxicant, and forced me to drink a large amount of alcohol.

A normal person wouldn’t have been able to hold a conversation. They would’ve been delirious and devoid of reason, perhaps even possessed. It was clear how poorly a person would fare in a witch trial in that condition.

This was probably standard procedure for the church. Its members employed methods to turn even the most virtuous person into an utter fool. And by ruining the credibility and achievements of the accused, the church spread the notion of its own righteousness.

I couldn’t deny the tactic’s efficacy. Unfortunately for them, however, drugs didn’t work on me. I was going to face the inquisition in perfect condition.