When the party led by Lawford arrived in the west, the Mernes Viscount's allied army was already blocking the front of the castle gate.
'There's a lot.'
Even a rough glance showed it was not a small number. Siege weapons could also be seen.
Among them, ten individuals stood in front of the unit, facing the castle walls. Each one looked formidable.
Their armor varied, but their aura was extraordinary.
One of them was someone Lawford recognized.
"A deserter."
It was someone who had caused trouble and fled from the Knight order.
The man, noticing Lawford, looked up at the wall and gave a sneering grin.
"Idiot."
Seeing him mouth the words, Lawford felt a shudder.
This man was a senior to him and far more skilled.
Although not quite at the level of a Junior Knight, he was ruthless, using any means necessary to win. In a life-and-death fight, he was among the most terrifying opponents.
And the nine others alongside him—how great could they be?
Moreover, the one standing behind those nine looked as if he outranked them.
He wore a helmet adorned with a sharp horn.
Not only the horned helmet but also horned shoulder guards marked him as someone with peculiar tastes beyond his skill.
Even though the ten in front were threatening, how could they stop the army arrayed behind them?
As a sense of defeat filled his heart, a voice of the beast-women spoke up.
"There sure are a lot of interesting folks."
Then the voice of a lost swordsman followed.
"At least one of them seems worth something. The rest are just average."
Lawford was stunned. They showed no sign of feeling the threat at all, which was bewildering given the situation.
"Open the gates. We are the Mernes Viscount's army, here to capture the traitors."
A Commander from the opposing side shouted. It was a face Lawford didn't recognize—a clean-cut man who held his helmet under his left arm.
A sword dangled from his waist, and he held a shield in one hand, which reflected the sunlight, momentarily blinding them.
The soldiers atop the walls were gripped with fear.
If they lost ground here, they'd be defeated before the battle even started.
'Will.'
He suddenly reminded himself. There was a wall. There was resolve. The desire to protect.
Lawford took a deep breath and stepped forward.
"That's impossible! The Queen has given no such orders!"
Trying not to appear like a frightened dog, Lawford shouted.
"Why don't you just open it nicely?"
The deserter Squire sneered as if to say, 'What will you do if you don't?'
"…Step back."
Lawford said, clenching his teeth.
It was time to defend against the enemy now bearing down on them.
Only ten of them, but it felt as if their mere presence had already crushed the morale of the soldiers on the walls.
And Ragna was no Commander to rally them.
He was far more comfortable wielding a sword than his tongue.
So that's what he decided to do.
The same went for Dunbachel.
She simply tapped the curved swords resting on both sides of her hips.
Words were difficult for both of them, so it was time to speak through other means.
* * *
Shortly after Ragna left, Encrid spotted the wild horse with mismatched eyes.
It seemed he had been looking inward amidst the commotion.
Encrid didn't hesitate to speak.
"Give me a ride."
The wild horse with the mismatched eyes was a friend. It was no big deal to ask for such a favor. Encrid was already mapping out the fastest route to the Royal Palace in his mind.
The fastest way to the palace.
He needed a horse. The quickest route was to gallop along the road he had once traveled by carriage.
With that in mind, he spoke to the horse with the mismatched eyes.
The horse blinked once, then turned its body to the side.
Taking that as a sign of approval, Encrid moved. Suddenly, an arrow whizzed by with a 'ping'.
Encrid jerked his head back, narrowly avoiding the bolt that shot past his face.
Over the wall, familiar figures appeared.
It wasn't even sundown yet, but a group of masked individuals stood there. More than thirty of them.
Both their outfits and their presence were familiar.
"Aren't you guys tired of this?"
Encrid asked, wondering what their reason could be for going this far. Was it because of a contract? No, they wouldn't risk everything just for a contract. He could tell just by looking.
He had already dealt with wizards and various assassins. And yet, their forces remained this strong, meaning they had poured everything they had into this.
It seemed like they too were putting their lives on the line to be here.
"Who cares if it's tedious? It's a job we have to do."
The man on the far left said, from Encrid's perspective.
His arms hung low, almost twice the length of the others', but they didn't droop lifelessly. He was simply letting them hang.
One of them stood out by not wearing a mask, positioned right in the center, standing alone in the middle of the wall.
The rest either crouched or bent over in odd postures.
The one in the center was a man with white hair and a monocle, neatly dressed in a shirt and jacket. He tapped his cane-sword on the ground as he spoke.
"I told you to stab him, but it seems you didn't listen. Do you take this job lightly?"
His gaze shifted behind Encrid, toward Jaxon.
'So, he's the one who gave Jaxon that contract.'
Encrid didn't bother looking back.
Since Jaxon hadn't refused on the spot, it was as good as accepting the contract.
But he hadn't followed through. He hadn't upheld the deal. He had been told to kill him, yet Encrid was still standing there.
"No, he kept his word. So now, you need to tell us everything you know."
Encrid spoke up on behalf of Jaxon, his tone firm.
Jaxon bit his lip slightly, turning his gaze aside. His body language showed that he wanted to step out of the conversation. It seemed like he didn't want to hear what was being said.
"What are you even saying? You're standing here alive."
The white-haired cane-swordsman was a key member of the assassin alliance.
The entire alliance seemed to have gathered.
The leader of the alliance, concealing her position, was calmly observing the situation from the side, catching her breath. Her specialty was disguising herself like an ordinary assassin and striking at critical moments.
"He stabbed me."
Encrid answered, his tone lacking any hesitation.
"What?"
"He stabbed me. Right here, 'poke'. If you don't believe me, I can let him stab me again right now."
Encrid pointed to his left arm as he spoke. The wound was already healed. There was a scar left behind, but you'd have to get close to see it.
It was even wrapped in a guard, so there was no way to notice it.
So, what nonsense was this guy spouting right now?
The female assassin, the leader of the alliance, pondered deeply before a sudden doubt crept into her mind.
The white-haired assassin, thinking along the same lines, asked cautiously:
"…You were stabbed?"
"You said to stab me."
Encrid replied without pausing for breath.
A short silence followed.
They told him to stab, and he did, so the contract was fulfilled.
The fact that he didn't die was just how it turned out. But he was stabbed, that much was true, wasn't it?
Encrid repeatedly pointed to his left arm, communicating this with his expression.
The sheer audacity of it made the white-haired assassin's face twitch with rage.
Some of the higher-ups in the alliance who understood what Encrid was saying were left dumbfounded, while the rest burned with murderous intent.
This bastard was mocking them, treating them with contempt.
Behind him, Jaxon let out a quiet sigh, hoping not to be heard.
He's really going through with this.
"You said to stab him, so he did."
"No, that's not what we meant."
That was a conversation they'd had during their duel. Encrid wasn't clueless.
But he just smiled and answered cheerfully, "Well, you did tell him to stab."
He kept repeating the same thing, clearly indicating that he had no intention of listening to anyone else. He was probably furious.
Was he upset because they had tried to manipulate him?
He was an odd man.
He returned that anger in a soft and roundabout way.
"I was hurt. It hurt."
Encrid said, and finally, the opponent reacted.
"This bastard is truly insane."
The white-haired assassin clicked his tongue in disbelief.
Jaxon felt a bit embarrassed. There are things you can insist on, and things you can't.
Ignoring the slang and implied meanings was a mistake.
Of course, Encrid wasn't really trying to argue.
It was all meant as provocation, intended to irritate the opponent and show how annoyed he was.
And, as a result, cracks began to form.
Some of the assassins, listening to this absurd conversation, were starting to get confused.
Encrid's hands moved faster than his eyes. Just as the word 'insane' left the assassin's lips, Encrid reached forward.
Simultaneously, the word 'insane' was drowned out by the sharp sound of whistling.
Encrid extended both hands, throwing two Whistle Daggers.
The daggers flew straight into the foreheads of two assassins.
Thud!
The two assassins, struck in the forehead by the Whistle Daggers, fell backward.
Before the sound of their bodies hitting the ground could even register, Encrid and Jaxon were already moving.
"You can go first."
Jaxon said, and Encrid nodded. The two split off to the sides. As Jaxon moved to the side, he pulled his hooded robe over his head and tightened his belt before throwing himself into the shadows near the wall.
Encrid glanced at Jaxon before taking a deep breath and shouting:
"Come at me, all of you!"
With those words, he stomped his left foot on the ground.
Boom!
The impact cracked the ground beneath him as the Heart of Great Strength exploded with force.
It was an immense display of power.
The assassins were naturally shocked.
The sheer force behind his shout and stomp drew the attention of all the assassins on the wall.
The absurd provocations had already shaken them, drawing their focus to him.
What kind of lunatic is this guy? That's what they must have been thinking.
But the assassins weren't easily intimidated.
Instead, one of the more impatient ones pulled out a bottle labeled 'Ten Breaths', which contained a deadly poison.
The bottle was designed to release a green gas, and all it took was a single breath to kill. It was called 'Ten Breaths' because you'd be dead within ten breaths.
Just as he pulled his hand back to throw it—
Thud.
He felt a burning sensation in his throat. The heat spread through his body before the pain, and his vision faded to black.
He died instantly.
Jaxon, concealed in the shadows, had remained completely silent.
The artifact he had was a great help. It was something he had acquired during the raid on the Black Blade Bandits' village.
The robe he wore blocked any sign of his presence, and the belt muted any sound he made.
Silently, Jaxon had slipped up right beneath the assassin about to throw the poison, and drove his longsword straight into the man's neck.
As the tip of the blade pierced through the assassin's throat, a fountain of blood spilled onto the ground. Four other assassins noticed and quickly put distance between themselves and Jaxon.
At the same time, darts flew toward him, coated in poison.
The darts struck where Jaxon had just been standing, but he had already moved. He pressed his body close to the wall.
"Find him!"
The white-haired swordsman shouted. Whoever this was, he had vanished too quickly to be detected, even by his senses.
Without showing himself, Jaxon, still against the wall, threw three Silent Throwing Knives.
Two of the knives flew silently through the air, slitting the throats of two assassins, while the third was blocked.
The one who blocked it was the man with the unnaturally long limbs.
His eyes emitted an abnormal glow. It was a type of spell—an enchanted eye implant containing a spell.
"There he is!"
He shouted as he pinpointed Jaxon running below the wall.
Suppressing sound and presence didn't mean it hid his movements completely. Jaxon was using the blind spots of their line of sight as he ran along the base of the wall.
Whether he was spotted or not, Jaxon lightly leaped upward, raising his longsword, and swung it in a wide arc.
From the perspective of those above the wall, it must have felt like a guillotine blade was flying up at them.
Whoosh.
The blade moved vertically, catching the wrist of the assassin who was holding a modified crossbow.
Thud!
Jaxon hadn't put too much strength into the swing, so it didn't sever the wrist bone in a single strike.
The blade, however, lodged halfway into the wrist of the assassin with the crossbow.
The assassin had been aiming the crossbow at Encrid just before the sudden strike.
"Aagh!"
A scream erupted.
"There he is!"
Another assassin shouted.
One more assassin jumped down from the wall, throwing daggers as he descended.
Whistle! Whistle!
They were Whistle Daggers.
Jaxon, mid-run, paused abruptly to dodge the daggers.
The daggers stuck into the stone wall with a 'Thunk'.
Jaxon, resuming his run, pulled the daggers out of the wall and threw them upward and sideways.
The assassin with quick reflexes dodged the upward-thrown dagger, while another blocked the sideways one with a shield he had pulled out.
What kind of assassin carries a shield? But, adjusting gear to match the opponent was a basic skill any assassin should have.
'Throwing daggers won't be effective.'
With that thought, Jaxon climbed up the wall where the assassins had cleared a space.
He kicked off the wall and ascended with skill that was nearly on par with Esther.
Standing atop the wall, Jaxon glanced around and said:
"If you don't want to die, don't follow me."
With that, he jumped off the wall and began to run.
"If we let our guard down, we'll get caught."
"That's why we came together."
Two of the leaders of the Assassin Alliance said, exchanging words.
The assassin with the long arms searched for Encrid but found that he had already disappeared. He was fast. Or, perhaps, it was all prearranged.
Of course, it wasn't. While Encrid had been drawing their attention, Jaxon had hidden himself, and while Jaxon distracted them again, Encrid simply did what he had to do.
Ever since Jaxon had said, "You can go ahead", they had been working in sync.
They had sparred and trained together daily, so this level of coordination wasn't difficult for them.
"Get him first."
The white-haired swordsman said, pointing in the direction Jaxon had gone. Their original goal had been to eliminate the assassin from Geor's Dagger.
Besides, even if Encrid made it to the Royal Palace, it wouldn't change anything.
There, far greater monsters awaited—ones far beyond comparison to these assassins.