Wortenia Senki (LN) - Volume 14 - Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Count Winzer’s Estate

Around the same time the raiding party on the hill was eagerly awaiting the signal to go ahead, a figure was approaching an alleyway inn located a short distance away from Galatia’s center. They moved confidently, though they were walking through the darkness without any light source. Galatia wasn’t the pitch-black wilderness, and it was a fairly large city for this world, so light spilled from the residences’ windows. But that little bit of illumination wasn’t enough to tread through the darkness safely, and going out at night like this was borderline suicidal. However, based on the robe the figure wore, they obviously didn’t want to be seen.

The figure probably wasn’t a traveler seeking lodging. No travelers arrived at this time of night, anyway. Galatia’s gates were locked after sunset, so unless one was a runner with special permission from someone in power, the doors remained closed until dawn. But this figure had ignored those rules and crossed the walls effortlessly earlier.

This is the place...

The figure’s eyes settled on a certain inn. The sign hanging over the entrance displayed the inn’s name as well as a symbol that marked it as an Organization-run business. Since the figure could make it out in complete darkness, they were obviously reinforcing their eyesight with martial thaumaturgy. Looking around to confirm that no one was watching, the figure silently slipped into the inn.

The inn’s owner leaned their elbow on the reception counter and directed a suspicious glance at the sudden guest. “Who’re you, coming in at this hour?” he asked moodily, seemingly displeased at the interruption. “Sorry, buddy, but we don’t have any free rooms at the moment.”

The innkeeper’s name was Adolf Beckenbauer. On the surface, he was nothing more than a man hired as proprietor of a desolate inn located in Galatia’s back alleys; no one would have assumed he owned the place based on his appearance. He stood 180 centimeters tall and weighed 150 kilograms. His body was as thick as a barrel, and his forearm sported a flame-like tattoo.

The modern Japanese person would never look at him and assume he worked in customer service. If anything, he looked like a mobster or a gangster. In this world, though, his appearance wasn’t that striking. He would look out of place in a modest village or an affluent neighborhood in the capital, but in areas populated by commoners and the lower classes, he’d blend in just fine. Besides, some mercenaries and adventurers looked much more menacing than Adolf did. And since he had to deal with those kinds of individuals at work, his stern expression and muscly arms came in handy. Most people would cower if someone that large were to glare at them, and indeed, his physique made it clear he wasn’t to be trifled with.

“How about you take off that hood first?” Adolf asked the figure in a tone that wasn’t quite intimidating, but it certainly left no room for argument. That alone proved he was no ordinary man. Then again, any person who would come here in the middle of the night wouldn’t flinch just from that.

The figure remained silent as they casually removed their hood. Locks of silver hair spilled out, glinting in the lamp light like snow crystals. The figure was 175 centimeters tall and looked to be in their late twenties to early thirties. Their limbs were slender yet muscular, but what drew the eye the most was their plump breasts. She was a beautiful, voluptuous woman for sure.

Adolf swallowed nervously, perhaps out of lust, but after he looked at her face again, he reverted to his earlier annoyed state. “Huh, who are you? Did one of our customers call for you?” he asked again, not bothering to hide his displeasure.

It might have seemed that Adolf had assumed that she was a prostitute based on her alluring appearance, but in truth, he didn’t really think that was possible. He noticed the sharp presence hidden behind her beauty. It was the same kind of sensation he got from the glint of a katana’s blade or a gun’s barrel.

And the way she stands and carries herself...

She was hiding it, but she moved like someone who fought for a living. And since she’d come to this inn at this time of night, when the gates were closed, she had to be related to the Organization. In addition, the guest staying there had informed Adolf that they’d be expecting company.

Everything considered, Adolf didn’t need to be so wary of this woman. But given the status of the person currently staying there, he couldn’t afford to make even the slightest mistake. If anything unexpected were to happen, Adolf would, without a doubt, be executed for his blunder.

Despite the provocative implications, the woman didn’t react to Adolf’s question.

She doesn’t look like the type to let her emotions show, anyway.

An easy way of exposing a person’s true intentions and nature was to provoke and anger them, but it was also a very dangerous method. Normally Adolf would have handled this a bit more tactfully; even if he was the owner of a rundown inn, he was still a merchant. Before he was summoned to this world, he had been a weapons smuggler in Germany’s black market, and in the ten or so years he’d been here, he’d labored across the continent for the Organization. Now he spent his days in this inn, so he had to be adept at handling customers.

The Organization hated nothing more than causing needless trouble, but that didn’t stem from the kindness of their hearts. They simply didn’t want to draw attention to themselves. If this Earth’s people were to learn of the Organization’s existence, not even their higher prana absorption rate as otherworlders would be enough to save them. They just didn’t have the numbers to defend themselves without taking heavy losses. Of course, the Organization wouldn’t lose in a direct clash. They’d defend their rights even if it meant covering the land with the corpses of this world’s people, and they had the power and means to do it. But that wasn’t what the Organization wanted to be, so they took care not to draw attention to themselves.

Everything had its exceptions, however. For example, tonight...

Either way, the one thing I have to avoid is causing trouble for those two, Adolf thought.

There were two people currently staying in the basement suite, which only the highest-ranking members of the Organization were allowed to use. One of them was Zheng Motoku, an aide to one of the Organization’s elders, Liu Daijin.

Zheng was promised one of the highest positions in the Organization. In fact, rumor had it that Liu Daijin had only been a nominal leader over the last few years, and Zheng had been helming his faction more than the elder did. In other words, Zheng was an elder in an unofficial capacity—an apprentice elder, as it were.

That information alone overwhelmed Adolf. Even more unbelievable was that this high-ranking Organization member was acting as a servant to another man. Adolf was a skilled warrior, but he wasn’t a leader in the Organization, so he didn’t know who this second man was. Nonetheless, he’d heard a rumor going around, and the fact that Zheng Motoku was serving him implied that it was true.

Because of the guests’ status, if this woman was a spy from some other opposing faction, Adolf was resolved to silence her if need be. He didn’t really want to do that, though, so he asked her to reveal her background.

The woman ignored Adolf’s determined question and approached the reception counter. She calmly and wordlessly rang the bell sitting on it, but not like a normal customer would. The first two taps were normal, the next three were lighter, and the final tap was firm.

The bell echoed through the room in a specific rhythm. Normally, this would have seemed like she was picking a fight. The bell was for customers to beckon employees to the reception counter in case it was empty, but Adolf was standing right there. He’d even spoken directly to her, though his attitude had been coercive and intimidating.

Frankly, Adolf had acted terribly. Implying a woman was a prostitute, even if it was the middle of the night, was an awful thing to say. Most women in modern society would have been offended and taken the matter to court. This world was different, but it still wasn’t a proper way to speak to a potential customer.

All the same, that didn’t justify the woman’s reaction. Ringing the bell right in front of the innkeeper looked like intentional harassment, and Adolf wasn’t the type to take this kind of provocation quietly. He wouldn’t go so far as killing her, but he could very well punch her for it. Considering how much larger he was than she, it did seem like the woman had made a very dangerous gamble.

Yet, for some reason, Adolf didn’t lunge at her. Actually, his expression completely changed from languid displeasure to a strained frown—the face of a warrior. He swiftly got to his feet and bowed respectfully to the woman.

“I only did it to confirm that you are one of ours, but I sincerely apologize for the disrespect I showed you,” Adolf said, his voice full of the deepest reverence. “Please, come this way. He’s waiting for you.”

If Adolf’s beard had been a bit more kempt, he could have passed for some noble house’s butler.

The woman nodded calmly at Adolf, but on the inside, her emotions were a stormy sea—though it wasn’t clear whether it was because of Adolf or because of the man who beckoned her.

“Very well. Then the rumor is true?” she asked.

“Yes,” Adolf replied. “I don’t know the exact details, but it seems so.”

Adolf then showed the woman to a door behind the counter and opened it to reveal a staircase leading down to the basement level.

“The stairs are a bit steep. Do be careful,” Adolf cautioned. He lit a nearby candlestick and handed it to the woman, signaling that she was to go down alone.

“Right. Thank you.”

The woman accepted the candlestick and walked down the stairs. The soft candlelight made her shadow dance across the walls.

Thinking of the man waiting at the bottom of the stairs, the woman sighed. Her name was Veronica Kozlova. She once worked in the Soviet Union’s famous intelligence bureau, the KGB—specifically in the PGU, the foreign operations division and the predecessor to what is now known as the SVR—where she was in charge of intelligence activities. Her department also handled illegal matters, like assassination and sabotage. That was a thing of the past, though. At present, Veronica was the commander of the Organization’s eastern front military department. Compared to Rhoadseria’s military officers, she ranked above the captains of the knight orders but beneath Helena Steiner, the general.

As a woman of such a high station, Veronica had no reason to come to Galatia on her own. She was only here because one of the elders had ordered her to meet a man staying in this city.

What will come of this, I wonder? Veronica thought.

She already had a general idea of what the man was going to tell her. The problem was that those words would trouble her. Of course, there wasn’t much to brood over because Veronica simply needed to choose one of two options—either accept this man’s request or reject it.

The answer’s already out. Personally, I’d love to accept his request, but it’s just too risky. 

Regardless of whether the risks threatened the entirety of the Organization or just Samuel and his executive unit, the outcome would be unpleasant. Veronica’s job was to draft plans from the safety of her office, but she knew the difficulties that those on the field faced. Sometimes she had to order her subordinates to go to their deaths if it meant accomplishing their mission. Even during her time in the KGB, Veronica had received cases where she had to send her operatives to die, but those situations had been the rarest of emergencies. Controlling events so that those situations didn’t happen was her job, and she’d clashed with her superiors many times in the past to make sure those situations didn’t occur.

The problem was that there were some people she couldn’t argue against. Veronica wasn’t the strongest person in the Organization quite yet. Many around her expected her to reach that station one day, and she herself wished for that, but if it were to happen, it would be at least a decade down the line. At present, she was an elite charged with the Organization’s next generation, and she had the authority that came with such a position. Nevertheless, if an elder were to make a demand of her, Veronica would be obligated to act upon it.

Requests can be especially sticky.

If this were an order, Veronica wouldn’t be conflicted. The Organization wasn’t a country, but it was stronger than any one nation, and the Hunting Dogs were as disciplined as an army. No matter how dangerous or unreasonable the Organization’s orders might be, they didn’t have the right to refuse. They had to give it their best efforts to see the mission through. If Samuel and his men were to end up dead as a result of those orders, it wouldn’t be solely Veronica’s responsibility. She’d be partially accountable for it, but the elder who’d given her such an unreasonable order would take most of the blame.

A request, however, was much different. If this were to fail, Veronica would be the only one held accountable for accepting the man’s request. It was an unreasonable conclusion, but such were the facts.

The only thing that the Organization’s elder had asked Veronica to do was to meet this man in Galatia and speak with him. Whether she did as the man asked was entirely up to her. No matter what he requested of her, she had the right to say no. Be that as it may, the truth of the matter was that she didn’t really have the freedom to exercise that right. Refusing would drag the name of the elder who’d mediated their meeting through the mud. Besides, given the identity of the man she was about to meet, a request from him wasn’t much different than a direct order from an elder. It was possibly even more binding than that. At the same time, she was the Organization’s commander of the eastern front, so she couldn’t prioritize her own self-preservation over the entirety of the Organization.

Koichiro Mikoshiba. A hero who supposedly died fifty years ago. Another sigh escaped Veronica’s lips. If we had more time, we could’ve come to a compromise much easier, but trying to do that now is too difficult.

After much deliberation, Veronica had come to this conclusion on the way here. Still, she didn’t assume that just because she said it was impossible it would be the end of the conversation.

So it’s past here.

Veronica reached the bottom of the staircase and stood before a door adorned with lavish carvings. She raised her hand and knocked, feeling like a student who’d been called to the teacher’s lounge for forgetting her homework. Fortunately, fate extended a helping hand when the door opened from the inside, revealing a man.

“It’s been a long time, Nika.”

Veronica couldn’t mask her surprise. Russians used nicknames when they were close to someone emotionally, and only one man in this world would call her by the nickname “Nika.”

“Zheng! It’s you!” Veronica exclaimed.

Zheng nodded with his usual serene smile and bowed. “My apologies, Nika, for calling on your authority as commander of the eastern front to hold the Hunting Dogs’ mission.”

It was a true apology from the bottom of his heart, but Veronica ignored it and instead pelted him with one question after another.

“Why are you here? Weren’t you supposed to be serving under Liu Daijin?”

Veronica had heard that a high-ranking member of the Organization was currently working with Koichiro Mikoshiba, but she’d never imagined it would be her dear friend Zheng Motoku. This was perhaps another downside to the size and scale of the Organization, especially considering how limited their methods of transmitting information were.

Zheng shook his head. “You’ll have to forgive me, but we don’t have much time. I need you to see Sir Koichiro first.” He ushered Veronica inside. “How much have you heard so far?”

“I don’t know the details,” Veronica answered, frowning, “just the general outline of the situation.”

“I see. And? What do you intend to do?”

There was no need for him to elaborate because there was only one answer Veronica could reasonably give.

“I do feel sorry. And you being here confirms that rumor. I’ve heard of Koichiro Mikoshiba, and I understand that if it’s for him, we should be willing to make some compromises, but...”

Veronica couldn’t change this. Being a commander, she had the responsibility and duty to send soldiers into battle. Even so, this choice was dangerous for Veronica, as it could very well affect her future.

Zheng didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow, though. “I suppose I can’t blame you...”

Taken aback, Veronica glared at Zheng. She felt like he was mocking her resolve. Yet it was because she was speaking to Zheng, of all people, that all she did was glare. Had it been anyone else, she’d have snapped their neck.

Zheng didn’t seem the slightest bit flustered by this. “I’m sure you were quite anxious, but don’t worry. This was on very short notice, and you weren’t given any details. It makes sense you’d feel this way, Nika.”

“What do you mean?” Veronica asked, looking perplexed.

Zheng didn’t answer. Instead, he took another few steps and stopped in front of a door.

“I think it would be best if you hear the answer to that directly from him,” Zheng said and opened the door.

♱

Three shadows sprinted through the night, approaching Count Winzer’s estate in Galatia. They moved like gusts of wind, clad in black masks and leather armor—the Hunting Dogs’ standard issue gear for raids.

Zheng Motoku led them, while Veronica Kozlova and Koichiro Mikoshiba followed close behind. Running as the vanguard was a dangerous position, so Veronica normally assumed that role. But compared to Zheng, Liu Daijin’s servant, and Koichiro, Liu’s best friend and a hero of the Organization, Veronica was the lowest-ranking person in the group.

Still, Veronica was the most familiar with Galatia and its layout. There was a reason she’d been able to come here on such short notice and found her way to the inn so easily. As such, she had a valuable role to play, so either Koichiro or Zheng would have to be the vanguard. Koichiro was Liu’s dear friend, so Zheng couldn’t consent to putting Koichiro in such a dangerous position. Koichiro had elected not to argue with Zheng since they were so pressed for time.

So this is Koichiro Mikoshiba’s power, Veronica thought to herself. I knew he was a legendary hero, but he’s already an elderly man. Despite that, from the way he runs, you wouldn’t think he’d aged a day.

Koichiro ran with light steps, his katana Kikka strapped to his back. Zheng carried a spear over three meters long called the Six-Harmony Spear, a weapon favored by practitioners of Bajiquan. Between the two of them, Koichiro was better off. He was only carrying a katana—albeit one longer than the standard length—and it wasn’t much of a burden. But that was only taking into account the weapon’s weight. The three of them were about to set out on a night raid, so they were also appropriately equipped for such a mission.

The plate armor knights in this world donned weighed forty kilograms, but their leather armor weighed a mere tenth of that, so it was comparatively light. It was also very flexible. But armor was still armor, and leather armor still greatly affected one’s mobility. Even though the joints had been specially made to allow for an exceptionally large range of movement, it was much more restricting compared to sweatshirts. In addition, the three of them also wore chain mesh under their armor.

On the whole, it was similar to the body armor modern soldiers wore. The chain mesh wasn’t made of iron, so it was relatively light, but it did weigh around three kilos. They also had first-aid kits in case someone got injured and knives to serve as sub-weapons. All together, their gear weighed ten kilograms more than usual. That wasn’t necessarily a major weight, but breezing through the city at high speeds without so much as getting winded was impressive.

I can see why Sir Koichiro suggested this.

Veronica thought back to the conversation they’d had just an hour ago. Koichiro had first apologized for both putting the mission on hold and calling her, the Hunting Dogs’ commander, to Galatia. After that, he’d offered a suggestion—he himself would charge into Count Winzer’s estate and retrieve the firearm.

Veronica had initially doubted his sanity. There weren’t many guards protecting Count Winzer’s estate, but the reason they’d called the Hunting Dogs in the first place was because they’d received word that at least some of those guards were particularly skilled. On top of that, Cardinal Roland of the Church of Meneos had been called to visit the estate that night. This meant that Rodney Mackenna and Menea Norberg were bound to be there too, and they were rumored to be among the Temple Knights’ strongest warriors. There were other Temple Knights in Galatia as well, and if they were to catch wind of a disturbance at Count Winzer’s estate, they’d all hurry over.

The Hunting Dogs were the Organization’s prized force, a skilled assassination group with the strength to eliminate threats. They also carried equipment that had been improved in ways the people of this world could never conceive. If winning a battle was all that they were after, that wouldn’t be too difficult. Though conversely, they wouldn’t get out unscathed.

In an effort to resolve all of those issues, Koichiro had proposed they infiltrate in small numbers. The fewer infiltrators there were, the less likely it was that the enemy would detect them. It was even possible that they could get the firearm out of the estate unnoticed. However, since they didn’t know exactly where the weapon was stored, or if there was indeed just one firearm and not multiple guns, infiltrating the estate was extremely risky.

This was why Veronica had more than a hundred operatives on this mission, but seeing the progress just the three of them made erased her apprehension. In fact, she felt like she’d insulted Koichiro’s prowess by doubting him.

Zheng was once a commanding officer in the Hunting Dogs, but Sir Koichiro exceeds even him.

Veronica’s role was commanding the unit from afar, but she was also familiar with field work. As a matter of principle, a member’s combat abilities usually equaled their standing in the Organization, so high-ranking members tended to be incredibly skilled. One had to be stronger than most people to save the lives of others, after all.

This tradition had been passed down for centuries, starting with the otherworlders of ages past who sowed the seeds of what would become the Organization. Because of this, Veronica kept her skills polished. She wasn’t equal to Samuel and his men in this field, of course—they’d seen more battlefields than she ever would—but it was experience, not physical strength, that decided which way a battle would swing. Veronica was confident that in terms of basic capabilities, she could match Samuel.

From Veronica’s perspective, Koichiro’s abilities were extraordinary. She wasn’t sure if it was a matter of superior athletic ability or mastery of martial thaumaturgy, but Koichiro was far more skilled than Zheng or her.

He could probably run at twice this speed and still not break a sweat.

Considering the way Koichiro kept glancing in her direction every now and then, he was probably concerned about her condition and suppressing the urge to sprint even faster to Count Winzer’s estate. The only reason he hadn’t come alone was because Zheng and Veronica had stopped him and he’d agreed out of consideration for them.

I didn’t think I’d end up being the one holding them back.

Veronica bit her lips so hard that the rusty taste of blood filled her mouth. She could always increase the rate with which she reinforced her body, but that would consume an immense amount of prana before she even made it to the estate, which would make it harder to sneak in once they got there.

When Koichiro suggested the infiltration, Veronica hadn’t wanted to let such a celebrated hero of the Organization go alone. That wasn’t entirely out of concern for him, though. Even if Koichiro was a celebrated hero, if she let him march into enemy territory all on his own, it would make her look irresponsible. She didn’t know if she’d be publicly criticized for it, but her standing would certainly take a blow.

Moreover, Zheng was a close friend of hers, close enough to call her by her nickname, and he wasn’t going to let Koichiro go alone either. They hadn’t been in touch for quite some time, but that was only because both of them had recently been promoted to roles with a large number of responsibilities and duties. But that one night’s dream they’d shared together during the Organization’s general meeting a few years ago was one memory Veronica would never forget. She couldn’t just watch as Zheng followed Koichiro into this.

In the end, Veronica’s reasons for accompanying Koichiro were half self-preservation and half devotion to Zheng. There was another factor, though; Veronica simply wasn’t cruel enough to let Koichiro Mikoshiba march to his death. She’d had nothing to do with this man so far, but although he was a hero said to have died fifty years ago, he was still a member of the same Organization as her. And Veronica would never abandon a comrade, a conviction she’d held since her time in the SVR.

But even good intentions could end up backfiring, and Veronica was seeing it happen right now.

Maybe I can still pull out...

Veronica hated nothing more than incompetence. It compromised missions and exposed her subordinates to danger. Yet the most incompetent member of this group was Veronica herself.

Veronica had only joined this mission because she’d misjudged Koichiro’s power. Now that she realized how capable he was, the only thing she could do now was leave and pray for Koichiro and Zheng’s success—as pathetic as that might be. Despite her personal feelings, Veronica cared more for the mission than her own pride and dignity.

I’m such a laughingstock.

Koichiro, however, saw things differently. “There’s no need to worry about this, Miss Veronica,” he said serenely as he ran opposite of her.

Being able to speak without shouting while the wind roared in one’s ears was quite difficult, but for some reason, those words rang clear as a bell in Veronica’s ears. She didn’t have the presence of mind to wonder about it, though.

She turned her face to Koichiro and shouted, “Still!”

“Yes, in terms of ability, your feelings are correct. But people all have things they’re adept at and things they’re less proficient in. Besides, you are quite skilled already. Zheng told me that you’re one of the future elder candidates. I have such an important figure playing along with my whims. I can only be grateful, and I would not dare insult you.”

Veronica could easily tell he was being honest.

“That aside, charging into enemy territory alone would have left me quite anxious, so I’m ever so thankful for the fact you two offered to join me.”

Veronica couldn’t help but smile, and she could almost see Koichiro’s strained smile under his mask. She could tell he was concerned for the two of them.

Suddenly, Zheng turned around and shouted, “Sir Koichiro, Nika, we’re almost at the estate!”

The three of them steadily slowed down. Before long, an estate at the end of the main street came into view, surrounded by walls three times a man’s height. Once they got there, they hid in the shadows of an alleyway opposite the estate.

“The guards are making routine patrols, but surveillance is lighter than I thought,” Zheng muttered.

“They’re probably more focused on guarding the city walls,” Veronica replied.

Galatia was surrounded by a wall, so Count Winzer and his people felt relatively safe within the city’s confines. In an attempt to use their limited military force to its utmost efficiency, they’d told the guards to focus on potential attacks from outside the walls. So even though important guests from the Church of Meneos were visiting that night, the estate’s security wasn’t as tight. Of course, given how easily Veronica got inside Galatia, their security at the city walls seemed like a joke in hindsight, but that went without saying.

Either way, the fact that Count Winzer’s estate was less secure was good news for the three of them. The estate’s walls were high, but with their skills, they could effortlessly scale them. After that, they’d just need to proceed according to plan.

“Let’s get down to business, then,” Koichiro said, prompting a silent nod from Zheng and Veronica.

♱

Rodney Mackenna was spending the night in Count Winzer’s estate, laying in bed and agonizing. They hadn’t originally planned to stay here, but after Count Winzer met Cardinal Roland, he insisted that the cardinal spend the night. And so Rodney found himself in this room.

I guess letting a cardinal go back like that would be a blow to his dignity and reputation.

Rhoadseria was in the eastern region of the continent, so it was far from the holy city. In general, the Church of Meneos didn’t have much influence in this kingdom, but that didn’t mean the Rhoadserian nobles could be bad hosts to a high-ranking church member from afar. But as a result, Cardinal Roland’s bodyguards, Rodney and Menea, had to spend the night at the Winzer estate too.

This wasn’t something they’d planned for, nor were they prepared for this level of hospitality. The bed Rodney was lying on softly enveloped his body. The lace curtains were first-rate textiles, weaved by master seamstresses over many months, and the table and the bookshelves lining the walls were finely crafted from quality wood. A bottle of wine distilled for nearly a decade sat on the desk, in case he wanted a drink before bed. Even a single glass of that wine was worth more than Rodney’s entire monthly salary.

Count Winzer was a very generous host, to be sure, but the more Rodney tasted of this hospitality, the more his heart grew cold. To him, it felt like a gaudy display of wealth and status. It made him uncomfortable, like a bitter reminder that he too was a member of this arrogant class of nobles.

Nonetheless, Rodney wasn’t so immature as to say that to Count Winzer’s face. Had it been a few years ago, he might have done so without thinking of the consequences, but now he was one of the Temple Knights and a guard to Cardinal Roland. His every action was being scrutinized, so he had to be careful of what he said and did. Unfortunately, it didn’t make him feel any less restless here.

Cardinal Roland’s room is much more extravagant than mine, of course.

Rodney didn’t expect their host to treat a knight as well as a cardinal, so it made sense that Cardinal Roland’s room would be much fancier than his. Perhaps the cardinal even had a woman or two serving him.

I’d heard that Rhoadseria’s been in shambles the last few years, torn apart by internal strife, but given how well they’re treating a bodyguard like me, it looks like they’re still doing relatively fine. Or at least that’s how they’re trying to present themselves.

Both possibilities seemed valid. Nobles lived to project vanity and ostentation, and any noble that didn’t do so probably wasn’t worth much. But Rodney knew nobility well enough, and he was aware that despite how pretentious they were, they weren’t ones to waste money needlessly. Rodney had the feeling that Count Winzer was doing this because he had some other reason.

Well, Tachibana’s with Asuka, so she’ll probably be fine without us for one night.

Asuka Kiryuu had been a complete stranger to him, but when Rodney found her unconscious in the woods that day, they had formed a connection. At first, the only thing that had spurred him to save her was his sense of knightly duty, but then he’d learned where the katana she carried came from, which made her a useful pawn. Be that as it may, what started as duty and self-interest had changed with time, and by now, Rodney genuinely cared for her. Menea had once offhandedly suggested that he should consider taking her as his bride, but Rodney saw her less as a potential wife and more as a younger sister.

I’m sure this kind of relationship isn’t going to last forever, though.

Rodney truly wished they could stay the way they were now, but realistically speaking, it was doubtful that could happen.

Based on the circumstances, Rodney had inferred that Asuka’s grandfather, Koichiro Mikoshiba, had once been summoned to this world but had somehow returned to Rearth. Nothing else could explain the existence of Ouka, the katana Asuka carried. Furthermore, returning to Rearth was supposed to be impossible, so Koichiro couldn’t have done it on his own. He had to have had help, and the most likely suspects were members of the Organization, a group that moved in secret and manipulated events across the continent from the shadows.

Is Koichiro Mikoshiba one of them, or did he make it back by way of coincidence?

Whichever it was, Rodney needed to look into this man, even if it meant resorting to torture.

The other concern is that there’s another man with the surname Mikoshiba on this continent.

Based on what Asuka had told him, that man was Koichiro’s grandson. The most puzzling part, however, was that a man with the same last name as Koichiro had been summoned at roughly the same time. The Church of Meneos had sent their delegation from the continent’s southwest all the way to Rhoadseria just to investigate this other man.

This can’t be a coincidence. And they must be behind it all.

Rodney believed that once he found the reason behind all this, he’d discover why he and Menea had to leave their homeland in the Kingdom of Tarja.

The Organization... What are they trying to do?

A large yawn crept from Rodney’s lips. It was late, past two o’clock, and all the time he’d spent restlessly pondering these things had finally made him sleepy. His heavy eyelids began dropping.

The next moment, Rodney hopped out of his bed in alarm.

What was that feeling just now?

Rodney hadn’t sensed anything concrete, and if he were asked to explain his reaction, he’d be hard-pressed to give an answer. The only description he could give was that it had been a primal, animalistic instinct.

Whatever it was, it had made Rodney’s consciousness jolt from almost asleep to fully awake. His mind was racing, so going back to bed wasn’t an option. His warrior instincts had raised an alarm, forbidding him from sleeping.

No point in putting on my armor. I’ll have to go out like this.

In all honesty, Rodney would have preferred to put on his armor. If he were to run into an attacker, he’d have to fight them, and any opponent here who chose to come at this late hour would certainly come prepared. But at times like these, Rodney preferred acting immediately. He put on his clothes, which were by his bed, and bolted out into the corridor. With his sword in hand, he knocked on the adjacent room’s door.

“Menea, get up! We have to get to Cardinal Roland’s room!”

Hearing the person behind the door stirring, Rodney ran to Cardinal Roland’s room.

Goddammit, I was careless!

The most suspicious person in this situation was certainly Count Winzer. After all, they were in his estate deep inside Galatia’s walls; intruders wouldn’t be able to get in easily.

I have to make it in time!

Rodney had an unfavorable impression of the Church of Meneos as a group, and he harbored quite a few suspicions about the church. It wasn’t that he denied the God of Light, Meneos, or his doctrine of justice and mercy, nor did he deny the salvation the church offered to many people, but anyone who knew Rodney would understand his doubts. In truth, there was little difference between the greedy nobility and the church’s clergy. Many of the clergy extorted money from the adherents, calling it “donations” or “alms,” and when they laid eyes on a beautiful woman or boy, they would pull them into their bedchambers.

It was said that bad money drives out good. That was true in any world, but it didn’t mean there weren’t any honorable people in the church. Rodney knew several such clergymen personally. In fact, if he hadn’t met them, he would’ve long since fled the church, even if it had sheltered him after he was chased out of his home. And one of those honorable clergymen was Cardinal Roland.

In the space of ten seconds, Rodney reinforced his body with martial thaumaturgy, sprinted down the corridor with the speed of the wind, and approached Cardinal Roland’s room. Normally, regardless of whether it was an emergency, Rodney would have knocked on the door to check what was going on inside. This time, though, Rodney didn’t slow and instead barreled toward the oak door and bashed it open.

The sight that greeted him was very different from what he’d expected.

“What is this? Coming in at this late hour...”

Cardinal Roland, seated on a chair, gazed at Rodney with an expression of surprise and exasperation. Next to him sat Count Winzer, who was looking at Rodney just as incredulously.

This can’t be... Just what’s going on here?!

Based on the scene he’d just barged into, the cardinal and the count were having a secret meeting that neither Menea nor he had been informed about. On the table between the cardinal and the count was a long, undecorated wooden box. The question of what they could be talking about at the dead of night did tickle Rodney’s curiosity, but this couldn’t have been what triggered his sudden unease. His relief at this, however, proved to be misplaced.

Someone slipped in through the door Rodney had bashed open. They didn’t run inside, but rather walked in slowly and smoothly. They were clad in black from top to bottom, and even their face was covered in a black mask. They looked like pitch-black darkness personified.

The only thing Rodney could discern was that the intruder was of medium build. They were, for all intents and purposes, the most suspicious-looking figure one could meet. But though Rodney was well aware of how menacing they looked, he couldn’t stop the shadowy figure from progressing; their movements were too natural to raise alarm.

I can’t feel any enmity or bloodlust from them. Who in the blasted hell is this?

Rodney was a soldier and warrior who’d seen countless battles. He’d been attacked in the streets plenty of times, and he’d fought numerous opponents and even professional assassins, but all of those enemies had given off some semblance of bloodlust or animosity.

An enemy’s aura depended on their skill. Some auras were stronger than others, but they all fluctuated across a spectrum of variations. Nevertheless, Rodney had never before run into someone like this—an opponent he felt absolutely nothing from—and that had delayed Rodney’s reaction. He could only stand by and watch.

Unfortunately, that turned out to be the worst course of action. The figure briskly stepped up to Count Winzer, and as they passed by the count, a white flash streaked through the air before Rodney’s very eyes.

Everyone in the room froze as they watched the shadow’s smoothly executed movements. No one could move an inch.

Then Count Winzer’s body began tilting, and within seconds, his upper half slid off and hit the floor. Blood spilled into the room, spreading across the carpet like a blooming flower.

The familiar stench of death filled Rodney’s nostrils.

He slashed him as he drew his blade... Battojutsu!

Rodney immediately recognized the flash he’d seen, a quick-draw sword technique. Some of the Temple Knights had begun practicing the martial arts brought from Rearth, but never before had Rodney seen anyone slash and sever a body like that within such a short amount of time.

Such skill... And they did it so casually. 

Rodney felt terrified of the shadow, though that fear didn’t stem from the technique the shadow had just used. It was frightening, to be sure—enough to strike dread into Rodney’s heart, and he was one of the Temple Knights’ most skilled members—but something else had caused Rodney’s reaction. The shadow’s presence, their aura, didn’t so much as waver, even though they’d just slain a man where he sat. The shadow remained calm and unperturbed, like the serene surface of a lake in winter. They displayed no regret, no guilt, and no excitement. The fact that killing came so naturally to them was what Rodney found so terribly horrifying.

Rodney glared at the figure, refusing to let that fear overwhelm him, and as he did, he realized that their weapon was very familiar. It was almost the spitting image of Ouka, the katana Asuka cherished.

Could it be?

The instant the meaning of this dawned on him, everything clicked into place.

“You’re...Koichiro Mikoshiba, aren’t you?”

The shadow slowly turned to look at him. Their features were hidden behind their mask, so Rodney couldn’t tell if they were affirming or denying his words.

“I’m asking you one more time. You are Koichiro Mikoshiba, aren’t you?” Rodney repeated, his tone a bit more firm.

The shadow wasn’t the slightest bit fazed by this. If Rodney’s assumption was correct, then it should have shaken the shadow’s composure, but they simply remained standing where they were.

What does this mean? Was I wrong?

The shadow’s behavior, or lack thereof, made Rodney second-guess himself.

“What are you doing, Rodney?!” Cardinal Roland boomed, chiding him. “Stop this man!”

The cardinal, who had been stunned from shock, finally recovered from his stupefied state and jolted into panic and alarm. He clung to the wall as he pointed a shaky finger at the shadowy figure.

Unfortunately for the cardinal, his reaction broke the stalemate, and the situation swung in the worst direction possible. The shadowy figure turned to Cardinal Roland and approached him in the same way they’d approached Count Winzer. Their intent was clear.

Once Rodney realized what was about to happen, his body unconsciously sprung into action.

I can’t let him kill the cardinal no matter what!

Tightening his grip on the sword in his left hand, Rodney swiftly closed the distance. Prana surged through his body, swirling as it made the Vishuddha chakra in his throat begin rotating. His muscles raged with strength, his nerves tingled with adrenaline, and his senses sharpened with precision. In this state, Rodney could cut down a bullet in motion.

Without slowing his charge, Rodney horizontally drew the sword from his waist and swept it diagonally with a single flowing slash.

The next moment, intense pain ran through Rodney’s arm. His severed right hand went flying through the air with a splatter of blood and hit the floor with a heavy thump, its fingers still gripping the sword Rodney had used for years.

An animalistic howl erupted from Rodney’s lips. With each beat of his heart, his forearm spurted blood; he was bleeding profusely. The pain was agonizing, and Rodney mentally cursed the shadow standing in front of him.

But even when faced with Rodney’s intense anger and hatred, the shadow’s behavior remained the same. Ignoring Rodney like a pebble on the wayside, the shadow once again approached Cardinal Roland.

They were determined to kill the cardinal, it seemed, and Rodney was helpless to stop him. The pain became so intense that he couldn’t maintain his martial thaumaturgy either. Overwhelmed by anger and agony, his aura began fading.

To hell with that bastard! He’s still going after Cardinal Roland!

The shadow paused in front of the cardinal, then crouched down, reaching for his katana. In less than a second, Cardinal Roland’s head would be separated from his neck.

Fortunately, rescue came from an unexpected direction. Rodney heard countless footsteps approaching from the corridor, and the next instant, Menea Norberg burst into the room with ten or so men.

Seeing Rodney crouching on the floor, holding his injured right arm, Menea went pale at once.

“Rodney! Are you all right?!”

Rodney managed to nod weakly in spite of his fading consciousness.

♱

Koichiro gazed at Rodney and Menea’s exchange with a sidelong glance.

What now, then? he asked himself.

Menea was trying to look composed so as to not worry Rodney any more, but she was covered in wounds. She’d likely had to fight her way here. Still, even though she wasn’t nearly as hurt as Rodney, who’d lost his hand, Koichiro knew he could still easily beat her. Slaying the soldiers that hurried into the room wouldn’t be difficult either. Martial thaumaturgy was strengthening his body to its limits, and he had years of refined martial skill under his belt, so it didn’t matter how many foot soldiers incapable of thaumaturgy came his way. Perhaps he couldn’t cut down tens of thousands, but he could defeat a mere one hundred with the ease of chopping vegetables. Doing so would, however, take time.

The Temple Knights are in this city. If they notice the disturbance, they’ll hurry over.

Koichiro’s eyes fell to Kikka.

If I unleash Kikka’s power, I could defeat five hundred Temple Knights with ease, but...

Koichiro knew that to silence all information regarding the firearm, he’d need to kill Cardinal Roland. But if he took the cardinal’s life after he’d already severed Rodney’s arm, their delegation’s fate would become uncertain. If he wished to secure Asuka’s safety, things were going in a bad direction.

Koichiro broke his stance and approached the box on the table. He checked its contents, then sprinted toward the window. A moment later, his body danced through the open air, leaving only the sound of shattering glass in its wake.

His movements were so swift and natural that no one could move to stop him. The most they could do was gaze in dumbfounded shock at the broken window, until eventually Menea’s shouting rocked the room back into action.

♱

“How did it go, Lord Koichiro?”

Zheng and Veronica, who had been out distracting the other guards, hurried to where Koichiro had landed under the window.

Koichiro glanced at them and held up the wooden box he’d collected from the room.

“This is it, for certain. For the time being, we must retreat.”

Zheng and Veronica nodded, and all three sprinted toward the estate’s walls.

Menea, eh? I see. Looking at the state Zheng is in, she must be quite skilled.

Zheng’s spear was covered in the blood of others, yet his movements were visibly stiff. At Zheng’s level, normal soldiers wouldn’t be able to lay a scratch on him, so he must have been busy stalling Menea.

Veronica, by contrast, seemed uninjured, but Koichiro could tell it wasn’t because she’d been fooling around while they were fighting.

It’s hard to make out over her black outfit, but...

Her body reeked of blood, implying that she’d handled at least several dozen soldiers.

Hm... I owe these two quite the debt, don’t I?

Koichiro followed Zheng and Veronica, who hadn’t said a single condescending word to him, and approached the wall. Glancing up at the sky as a single ray of moonlight shone through a gap in the clouds, Koichiro swore that someday he would return the favor.