**Chapter 107**
—
The Knights of Dormund.
Haerbin watched as the soldiers dragged away the heretics of the Black Cross.
“Begone, demon—!!”
“You’ll never lay a hand on our princess!”
“Kill me instead! Kill me, I—arghhh!”
Even as they were beaten, they refused to move aside. The Dormund soldiers roughly seized and pulled them away.
Though they were fanatics, Haerbin found himself deeply troubled—*was it really acceptable to treat the citizens of another land like this?*
Just then, someone approached silently.
“Knight Haerbin. What are you doing here?”
“…!”
Startled, Haerbin quickly bent at the waist.
“M–my lord Ian Dormund! I was just observing the fanatics blocking the railway…”
Ian tilted his chin at the sight of Haerbin flustered and at a loss.
“For just ‘observing,’ you seemed to be doing nothing at all.”
“……”
“If you’re a knight and a supervisor here, wouldn’t it be better to at least draw your sword and show them a flash of aura?”
At those words, Haerbin’s eyes widened in shock.
“Uh… but to release aura in front of ordinary citizens, that would be…”
Ian’s gaze sank low at that reply.
*Tsk… A swordsman capable of wielding aura, yet so spineless.*
Knight Haerbin.
A prodigy among prodigies, who had already reached the 6th Circle at a young age.
Among Dormund’s knights, his talent was said to be the finest of them all.
But though his gifts soared to the heavens, his character regrettably could not keep up.
Even so, no one could afford to discard such a talent—someone capable of aura before reaching even thirty.
Ian lightly patted his shoulder and was about to reboard the train when—
“My lord?”
“Speak.”
“May I ask a question?”
Ian turned his head.
The young man was twenty-eight, yet still carried the softness of baby fat upon his face.
“…What is it you wish to know, Knight Haerbin?”
After a moment’s hesitation, Haerbin replied.
“To be honest… I don’t fully understand this mission.”
“You don’t understand the mission?”
“Yes. We are in the midst of a great conquest war. Yet you, Lord Ian, and Dormund’s elite soldiers have all been dispatched here… and I cannot fathom what this treasure is that we are searching for.”
Ian stroked his chin before answering.
“Is it not enough that the treasure is a Dormund heirloom?”
“N–no, that’s not it, but… I heard…”
“Heard what?”
Haerbin fumbled with his lips.
“That the treasure was originally the heretics’…”
“……”
“M–my apologies! I know it’s nothing more than rumor, but once the doubt took root, I found it hard to calm my heart… M–my lord Ian?”
Haerbin’s eyes went round.
Ian was suppressing a burst of laughter, murmuring.
“You… really are amusing, aren’t you?”
“……”
“A knight not only doubting his own mission, but daring to demand an explanation from his superior…”
Haerbin’s face drained of color.
“P–please punish me—!”
With a shout, he dropped to his knees.
Ian stopped laughing and drew his sword.
Swish—!
The blade cut past Haerbin’s throat, grazing his skin.
Blood trickled down in thin lines, and Haerbin trembled before he realized it.
Ian flicked the blood from his sword and spoke.
“You’re not fit to be a knight.”
“……”
“But that makes me all the more curious. If someday you *do* attain the spirit of knighthood… what kind of man would you become?”
With that, Ian pointed toward the train.
“Come. Let’s have some tea.”
“……”
“Surely you weren’t about to ask me to disclose Dormund’s secrets right here, were you?”
Flustered, Haerbin sprang to his feet.
By then Ian had already entered the train and ordered his aide.
“Two cups of green tea.”
“Yes, understood.”
When the aide returned with tea, Ian and Haerbin sat.
Ian sipped first, then muttered.
“…Hm. Where should I begin explaining?”
“……”
“Well. Let’s make one thing clear. The artifact we’re after—it *is* the fanatics’ relic.”
Haerbin’s eyes widened.
Ian gave a small laugh.
“But should we really call it a fanatic’s relic?”
“…Pardon?”
“To be exact, it’s the vampires’ relic. You know what a vampire is, don’t you?”
Haerbin faltered.
“Y–you mean… the legendary vampires from fairy tales?”
“Yes. Though unlike the tales, they can’t move during the day, nor do they survive solely on blood.”
“……”
“In any case, the so-called heirloom Dormund kept stored in Arcane University—it’s that vampire relic. So to call it a Dormund treasure is misleading. We seized it from someone else.”
Haerbin grew uneasy.
*Isn’t that a stain on Dormund’s honor?*
But wisely, he held his tongue.
Ian continued, sipping his tea.
“There are many legends about that relic. One says that if a worthy heir to the vampire throne drinks the blood of the Grail, a Black Moon will rise.”
“…A Black Moon? What does that mean?”
“It’s symbolic. It signifies the birth of a new king.”
Haerbin’s eyes shot open.
“A new… king?”
“An immortal sovereign, wielding magic rivaling that of a wizard trained for a hundred years, and a ruler of darkness unyielding to any light.”
“…!”
“That’s the Vampire Lord. Or so they say—but no one truly knows. No one has ever witnessed its reality.”
“……”
“But one never knows. Legends sometimes prove real. Dormund kept the Grail for the sake of preventing disaster…”
Ian drank again.
“That much should help you understand this mission. Do you need more explanation?”
Haerbin furrowed his brow in thought, then carefully asked.
“…Forgive my impudence, but may I ask one more thing?”
“Go on.”
“If Dormund truly held the Grail to prevent catastrophe… would it not be wiser to simply destroy it?”
Ian slowly set down his cup.
Then he looked Haerbin in the eye.
“Knight Haerbin.”
“…Yes, my lord?”
“It’s time to return to your duties. I’ll answer that question another time.”
“Y–yes, sir—!”
Haerbin leapt up and bowed deeply.
Ian chuckled softly as he watched.
“…What an amusing fellow.”
He leaned back, waiting for the train to depart—when suddenly his aide burst in from outside.
“Lord Ian—!”
“Speak.”
“A—a grave matter, my lord!”
Ian tilted his head.
“Grave? What is it?”
The aide swallowed hard.
“Yenika Hazel has appeared! And chasing her is…”
—
—
A bounty of 12,000 gold coins—such a criminal drew massive attention in Arcane’s backstreets.
“When’s the last time the city placed a bounty this high?”
“Ten years, back when the pirate lord appeared, wasn’t it?”
“What on earth did the Black Cross steal to warrant twelve thousand gold!?”
Twelve thousand gold.
Even by Arcane’s ruinous cost of living, it was an astronomical sum.
Enough, in fact, to buy a small fiefdom.
No wonder every renowned mercenary in the underworld was rushing in.
“Even if I fail, I can’t miss a chance like this.”
“Who knows? Maybe the heavens will favor me, and I’ll catch Yenika Hazel myself.”
“Capture her, and you can retire for life. At least I’ve got to try!”
And not just lone mercenaries—the two great powers of the underworld, the Pirates and the Seven Sovereigns, had mobilized as well, alongside countless Arcane crews.
Amid the chaos, a rumor spread.
“Did you hear? Yenika Hazel wasn’t in the Northern Snowfields—she was sighted near Tenia Village!”
“Tenia? That’s not far from the Snowfields’ edge.”
“I heard it was Haruin Village, not Tenia!”
At first, it seemed baseless.
All confirmed information suggested Yenika Hazel had already reached the Snowfields.
There was no reason for her to appear in some entrance village.
But testimonies kept flooding in.
“They say it *was* Tenia!”
“She fought several mercenaries before vanishing!”
“So the Snowfield story was false all along!”
Even brokers—those who fed intel to mercenaries—lent weight to the rumor.
At once, mercenaries bound northward turned south instead.
“Forget Tenia, she’s shown up in Haruin now!”
“That’s close by!”
“Whoever finds her first wins twelve thousand gold!”
Ian frowned.
*Yenika Hazel appearing here, instead of the Snowfields?*
It was hard to believe.
His sources had said the Black Cross and Yenika Hazel were already in the Snowfields.
*Bad intel? Or a ruse?*
There was too much testimony to dismiss as mere error, yet too clumsy to be a trap.
While Ian pondered, Haerbin cautiously advised.
“My lord. If we miss this train, the next to Northend Village—the Snowfields’ route—won’t depart until tomorrow afternoon.”
That snapped Ian from his thoughts. He tapped the desk rhythmically.
Tok. Tok. Tok.
At last, he ended his deliberation.
“We change course.”
“…!”
Haerbin and the others’ eyes widened.
Ian explained.
“From now, we’ll search the villages where Yenika Hazel was sighted. But…”
—
—
Jeannie lifted her head.
Rain poured from a sky heavy with black clouds.
“……”
She recalled Leon’s words.
*‘I’ll draw their eyes.’*
*‘Dormund will have no choice but to move once the rumor spreads.’*
*‘And when their forces move, that’s when you and Arthur act.’*
At first, she thought it absurd.
Even disguised as Yenika Hazel, how could so many mercenaries and factions be fooled so easily?
*Especially when everyone knew Yenika had already reached the Snowfields.*
Yet events had defied her expectations.
Leon, disguised as Yenika, had deceived them all.
So much so that mercenaries once bound north were now turning south again.
Jeannie let out a hollow laugh.
*Is it just that twelve thousand gold has driven them mad?*
Though the sum justified it, the situation felt surreal.
Everyone was consumed by frenzy—blinded by the bounty on Yenika Hazel.
Then Arthur spoke.
“Jeannie.”
“…Yes?”
“Stay here and watch. Make sure no one slips away.”
She blinked.
“M–my lord?”
“Yes?”
“You’re not planning to go in there alone, are you?”
Arthur turned his head.
“Yes. Why? Is that a problem?”
Jeannie fell silent.
It wasn’t that she couldn’t object—there were too many objections at once, and she didn’t know where to begin.
*He’s… he’s going to assault Dormund’s encampment alone?*
But Arthur gave her no time to voice them.
He rose and strode forward.
Jeannie snapped out of it too late, shouting.
“M–my lord!! You can’t just walk in like—!”
But her voice was drowned out by the pouring rain.
Smiling as he approached Dormund’s gathered army, Arthur chuckled.
“Haha…”
The rain smothered even that laughter.
But Arthur did not stop laughing.
No—he *could not* stop.
An indescribable thrill was overflowing from the depths of his chest.
Drunk on that electrifying sensation, Arthur halted.
A Dormund soldier on watch spotted him and stiffened.
“…What the hell?”
A man laughing madly in a downpour—anyone would be unnerved.
The guard blinked, then leveled his spear.
“Hey, lunatic. This is Dormund territory. Leave now if you want to keep your head.”
At that warning, Arthur ceased laughing.
“…Huh?”
And in the same instant—the soldier’s head fell from his shoulders.
He hadn’t even time to scream.
Passing his corpse, Arthur murmured.
“One down.”
—
