Chapter 129 - The Last Ravnoma (2)

The western reaches of the West.

A city standing in a place where only endless wilderness stretched out.

The troops that had departed from Gaidar's capital city, Trinova, were now passing through the center of the West and slowly advancing north toward Deirmar.

"... Haha."

A man stood beneath the most splendid banner among the black ranks of troops.

Count Gaidar, whose fierce eyes were as striking as his developed upper body, was now looking over a report with a hollow laugh.

"So you are saying all of this was done by one man?"

"That is correct, Count Gaidar."

The reason he was now laughing so hollowly.

It was because the contents of the report in his hand were absurd even to his own eyes.

"Four houses along the road, seven supply units in total, have been hit... Their goods were burned to ashes, and their troops were annihilated."

Though he was reading it aloud slowly, it did not immediately sink into his head.

Part of it was because such a painful loss was difficult to accept humbly, but above all, the contents were hard to comprehend by common sense.

"And the time it took to do all this was only six days."

After looking over the densely written list of names, Count Gaidar laughed hollowly and scratched at his chin.

"According to this report, that means he even pulled two jobs in a single day."

An unavoidable anger followed the emptiness.

Count Gaidar's thick brows were already twitching roughly as he stared down at the report.

"Is this the same bastard? The one who took my son's sword?"

"Yes, Count Gaidar."

Godin, standing beside the count, quietly nodded and opened his mouth.

"Vlad of Soara. He is a knight currently acting in Lady Alicia's name."

Vlad of Soara.

A northern knight raised by Bayezid.

"And he is also the boy Jorge supposedly raised in the back alleys."

"Jorge..."

And the boy who had been Jorge's dagger.

Count Sigmund chewed over that old name and recalled the image of a man.

A massive build, a blunt disposition.

And the loyal dog of the former Family Head, who had always looked at him with wary eyes.

"... I should have killed him when we first met."

"I apologize."

After hearing Godin's report, Sigmund shook his head and clicked his tongue.

To think the traces of that bastard, whose very memory was unpleasant, were now stirring up the West.

As expected, the man named Jorge was displeasing even in death.

"Bayezid has been grinding his teeth. It seems they trained him harshly in preparation for this very moment."

Sigmund Gaidar thought.

The ones stirring up his rear now had to be talents specially trained by Bayezid.

Otherwise, they could not be sweeping across the roads along the western coast at such an absurd speed.

That was how swift Vlad's movements were now, swift enough to force Sigmund into mistaken judgments.

"It seems Count Bayezid wants to buy time."

Even so, within this chain of events, Sigmund was able to read at least a little of Peter Bayezid's intentions.

Though the plundered supplies were a deeply painful loss, they had not left behind only ashes.

"Increase the marching speed of the entire army. We must reach Deirmar as quickly as possible."

A man with the body of a bear, but the instincts of a fox.

That was Count Sigmund Gaidar, the usurper of the West.

'I cannot let you drag this out until winter, just as you intend.'

The tide was on Gaidar's side, but time was on Bayezid's.

Peter Bayezid was pressuring Sigmund by thoroughly reminding him of the basics of war.

An attacking expeditionary army and defenders holed up in a fortress.

Since it was clear that the West would be at a disadvantage the longer time passed, Peter was surely trying to buy time while waiting for the coming winter.

"All troops, quick march! Keep your steps in time!"

Sigmund decided to personally shout encouragement and increase the speed of the soldiers' advance.

Now that he had realized his opponent's intention, there was no reason to be swayed any longer.

In the fierce contest of wits for control of the battlefield, Count Gaidar decided not to forget the greatest objective.

In the end, the first step of this war would land at Deirmar.

"Count Gaidar!"

"What is it now?"

However, the report from the scout now rushing toward him was more than enough to shake his reason.

"Right now... the bridge by the river ahead..."

A report he could understand without needing to hear the rest.

Before the scout could even finish speaking, Sigmund hurried forward, and upon seeing the soldiers standing stock-still at the front, he could not help but roar abuse.

"It has been destroyed."

"Those damned northern bastards!"

Just as Godin had said, the bridge by the river was cut off as if it had been waiting for them.

The bridge, which anyone could see had been deliberately torn apart, was both a warning and a provocation aimed at Sigmund.

"... How many days would it take for that bastard named Vlad to get all the way here?"

"A week, no matter how fast he moves."

After hearing Godin's report, Sigmund raised his head and looked up at the sky.

Rain clouds were gathering.

An ominous sign foretelling rough waters.

"... It seems more than one or two bugs have burrowed into the West."

Peter was not merely a man waiting for his moment.

Lightly, widely, and boldly, Peter's intention to shake the West was landing precisely on target.

SHAAAAA.

Heavy rain began to pour down over Gaidar's banner.

Along with the falling rain, the western columns slowly began to come to a halt.

Rain clouds that had begun in the North slowly began to envelop the soldiers of the West.

It seemed the person who had seized the first initiative of this war was not Sigmund after all.

※※※※

"It's raining."

"Not bad."

Men were hiding on top of a hill.

Judging by the way all sorts of outfits were mixed together with no uniformity, they looked almost like bandits, but their refined presence showed that they were not.

"Are those slave traders?"

"Yes. The slave trade has always been active in the West."

Below them, slave traders were hurriedly beginning to set up tents along with the falling rain.

Because the raindrops were cold, their movements were brisk, but on the wagons they had brought with them, there were people packed inside, standing still and unable to do anything.

People trapped behind thick bars, helplessly being rained on.

All of them were slaves who had been captured and brought here.

"Are they not going to put anything over those people?"

"Have you ever seen anyone pitch a tent for cattle or horses because it was raining?"

People treated worse than cattle or horses.

Those who had now been stripped of their status as humans leaned on each other and trembled in the rain.

"... I pitch one for mine."

"You certainly know how to take care of a horse."

Marcus, the scar-covered man, smiled at Vlad's words and quietly began watching the slave traders.

"The last Ravnoma bloodline is probably in there."

"One of the traders?"

An existence like an ember that had not gone out amid the ashes.

Ravnoma's influence still lived and breathed deep within the West, and Gaidar spared no effort in finding and slaughtering their bloodline.

To escape this far, they must have needed a deception powerful enough to hide them from the eyes of the usurpers.

"Whoever it is, they disguised themselves amazingly well. No one over there looks like the child of a noble house."

"Of course not."

Marcus, who had been quietly pointing out positions to his agents with hand gestures, looked at Vlad and smiled.

"Because the last Ravnoma is currently pretending to be a slave."

"... I see."

To survive, one had to roll even in the mud.

The last Ravnoma, whoever they were, was now inside the bars, swallowing humiliation as they clung to life.

"We will handle the wagons. We will rescue the Ravnoma bloodline, so all you need to do is draw the traders' attention from the front."

"Can I kill them all?"

A single blue eye began to shine in the rain.

Though Vlad had grown up in the crime-filled back alleys, slave traders were the kind of bastards he simply could not bring himself to associate with.

"You may."

"Understood."

At Marcus's permission, Vlad quietly nodded.

A single drop of black tears still hung from Vlad's fingertips.

The hand that had wiped away Anna's tears in the fog-filled village was quietly moving toward his sword.

"Begin."

"Yes."

At Vlad and Marcus's nods, the men began to scatter.

As Vlad separated from the secret intelligence squad and slowly descended the hill, the barbarians and mercenaries began following behind him.

"... I told him to draw attention, not charge straight in."

Marcus, who had quietly taken position atop the hill, let out a wry laugh as he looked at Vlad and his group, who did not even think about hiding themselves.

They called him Bayezid's finest driver.

It was indeed a confident stride that even a dragon would have no choice but to notice.

※※※※

SHAAAAA.

The falling rain poured down like rods.

A fierce downpour that was hard to see in the North.

Vlad, who had been silently watching the rain, walked boldly toward the encampment before him with an expressionless face.

"... What the hell is this now?"

SLASH!

Blood began spraying out along with the severed head.

The fishy smell rising as it mingled with the rain was making Vlad uncomfortable.

"I killed him too quickly."

He did not like rain very much.

Because the damp air that came with rain always brought up unpleasant smells and memories he had buried deep in his chest.

"I will do it."

"Go ahead."

Stefan picked up a small bell nearby and began shaking it vigorously.

The ringing of the small bell was not swallowed even by the sound of the rain.

A warning sound announcing unfamiliar intruders began to ring throughout the encampment.

"What! What's going on!"

"Everyone, grab your weapons!"

Along with the bell, men began scrambling out from inside the tents.

However, they never made it out of the tents in the end.

The small tents began shaking wildly at the sudden intrusion.

After the terrible screams ended and the tents fell silent, the only ones who came out were tattoo-covered barbarians.

AAAAARGH!

What the hell are these things!

They looked like bandits, but their finish was far too clean.

Along with the screams ringing out across the encampment, black crows began descending from the hill.

"Kill them all. If possible, catch even the ones who flee."

With that casually given order, Vlad pulled his hood low and quietly blended into the heavy rain.

He quietly passed by those who did not notice him.

And swiftly cut down the ones who did.

Walking slowly like that, he finally reached the largest tent.

On both sides of the tent's entrance, he could hear quiet but tense breathing.

"Amateurs."

AAARGH!

GHK!

As if to render their tense waiting meaningless, Vlad's single sword stroke cut long through the tent itself.

Blood splashed up so fiercely that it battered the tent enough to be felt even from outside.

"Is the owner here?"

Inside the quiet tent, where not even breathing could be heard anymore.

When he stepped inside, the noisy sound of the rain softened a little.

Vlad calmly shook the raindrops from his cloak and walked into the tent, passing the corpses that had been cut in two at the waist.

"There is something I want to ask."

The bloody footprints Vlad left behind slowly began to line the ground.

"I was wondering if there was anyone suspicious among the slaves you bought recently..."

Another space had been prepared inside the tent.

Vlad lifted the fluttering cloth and stepped inside, only to come face-to-face with a sight he had never expected.

"Oh."

A middle-aged man lay dead on the bed with his eyes wide open.

Along with the damp air, the sharp smell of blood spread out and stabbed powerfully at his nose.

Beside the corpse sprawled there in such a terrible state, two pairs of eyes were looking at him.

"G-Get out."

The light of the faintly burning lamp was dim.

In that cramped and dark space, his eyes met those of a woman and a child.

"I-I said get out of here. Before I kill you too."

The half-naked state of the woman, who was sheltering the child with terrified eyes, was pitiful.

And so was the young boy in her arms, trembling as he held a bloodstained dagger.

As he looked at them, Vlad was seized by an inexplicable sense of déjà vu and ended up stopping blankly.

"..."

In the arms of a woman exhausted by men's abuse, a young boy was raising a bloodstained dagger.

They were protecting each other, but their far too feeble struggle was calling up one of Vlad's memories that had been buried deep inside.

"... Did you kill him?"

"I told you not to come closer!"

The smell of blood filled the space beneath the dim lamp.

A very long time ago, there had been a mother trembling in a small room filled with a fishy stench, holding a child in her arms.

Just like the woman now.

"Is that so?"

Listening to the faint sound of rain drifting in from outside, Vlad quietly lowered his head.

Inside the narrow room, a vivid red stream of blood flowed along the floor.

Perhaps it had rained like this on that day too.