Chapter 40: City of Fanatics (1)

The man entered the building looking like an ordinary traveler.

His unremarkable clothes and the casual way he ordered food and drink were all deliberate, meant to fool any assassins or spies who might be watching.

Leaning his back against the counter, he slowly swept his gaze around the room. In this isolated little shop, there were hardly any customers.

It was an old inn and eatery run by an elderly couple, not the kind of place to attract many people.

Only the wife cooking, the husband tidying the tables, and a pair of farmers who had come in from the fields for some cheap beer.

And then there were three others who looked like ordinary folk but were an unusual combination. A middle-aged man, a boy, and a pretty young woman.

His eyes met briefly with the beautiful young woman’s. It was a silent signal that this place was safe.

The man pushed off the counter and walked toward them. The gray-haired boy shot him a wary glance, then buried his head again and kept eating.

He approached and carefully asked.

“…The night the red moon rises.”

It sounded like the nonsense of a lunatic, but the young woman covered her mouth and whispered back just loud enough for him to hear.

“…is already dead.”

“Phew.”

The man finally exhaled in relief. He pulled out the last empty chair at their round table and sat down. In a low voice he said,

“Excuse me. You are from the Silver Blades, yes?”

“Yes, that’s right,”

Rowen whispered back. Her eyes quickly swept the whole shop.

The farmers glanced over, but their attention was more on Rowen’s striking, pale beauty, rare in such a rural place, than on the group’s secretive meeting.

Satisfied they were allies, the man removed his hood and introduced himself properly.

“It is an honor to meet you. I am Pierre of the Scales Order.”

Pierre looked as ordinary as a man plowing the fields outside. A small frame, a potato-like face, and an unkempt beard. He was nothing like the sharp and formidable image of a witch hunter.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

“Nom nom. Nice to meet you!”

After their three very different greetings, Pierre smiled and then stood again to bow at a full ninety degrees.

“And it is an honor to meet you as well, great hunter.”

Vigo frowned, glancing around. Nobody in the shop paid attention to greetings between men.

“For God’s sake, don’t say things like that…”

“Haha. But you are so famous. It truly is an honor, and I respect you.”

“Stop it already. You’ll draw attention. Ahem.”

“Ah, yes, sorry. I got carried away, meeting such a legend in person. It is a family honor…”

“Heh…”

Nike whispered quietly in awe.

‘So the boss is a celebrity.’

Apparently Vigo was known even in other Orders. He was a bigger figure than Nike had realized, and it made him jealous.

‘One day, me too!’

Pierre shrugged and glanced at Nike, who was glaring at him.

“But… this one looks very young. Is it… really safe to bring a boy like this on such a dangerous mission?”

The boy shoveling food looked barely older than a teenager. It was hard to imagine why they would bring someone so untrained into the Golden Dawn’s stronghold.

“There’s no need to worry about that,”

Vigo said with a thin smile. Rowen also smiled faintly, a reaction grounded in trust.

‘Hm.’

Pierre still eyed Nike suspiciously, even as the boy ignored them completely. For just an instant, his expression turned to near-contempt, something so subtle only Nike and Vigo noticed. Then, Pierre continued as if nothing had happened.

“In any case, I am thrilled to be working alongside such a great hunter!”

“Sigh.”

“Motivation!”

Nike suddenly leapt up and shouted.

Pierre was startled, then chuckled.

“…Haha. Yes, full of motivation!”

Pierre adapted easily to everyone, blending quickly into the group with a friendliness even Vigo acknowledged.

‘A learned mechanical friendliness. He’s well trained.’

But there was no sincerity in his words. His smiles were masks, social tools, and nothing more.

That, Vigo respected. The less human feeling a hunter had, the better it was.

‘As expected from one of the Justitia’s Scales.’

The Scales’ elite, the Justitia’s Scales, were trained to worship pure reason.

They undergo training to kill all emotions for the sake of pure reason, and even receive procedures as well.

Every feeling they displayed was an act, even their hatred of witches nothing more than a conditioned response.

They cut away everything unnecessary in order to kill witches.

Pierre was a hunting machine created by the Scales Order.

“Now, shall we get down to business?”

“Good!”

“Yes.”

When Vigo nodded, Pierre produced a sealed paper and slid it onto the table.

“This is the information I gathered on the Golden Dawn during my stay in Banyaksenir.”

“Blank!”

At Nike’s outburst, Rowen blinked and took the paper. She turned it over, but no matter how she looked, it was empty.

“A riddle!”

“Haha, no, it’s nothing like that.”

“Then what is this?”

Rowen looked confused too. Of course, Pierre wasn’t the type to make jokes like that anyway. He had social skills, but no humor.

“It is exactly what you see.”

“…?”

Pierre sighed quietly.

“Two months of investigation, and I uncovered nothing. Every agent I sent in, their trail was cut off.”

“…What?”

He clasped his hands on the table and said with a dark expression,

“Shameful as it is… our investigation remains completely blank.”

Rowen gasped. Nike simply stole Rowen’s plate and finished her leftover meat.

“Hmm. What a hassle. Damn it.”

Vigo buried his face in his hands, sighing deeply. He had known this mission would not be easy, but to be blocked right from the start made him curse aloud.

‘In my old age, nothing comes easy huh.’

He looked back at Pierre and asked.

“Tell me in detail. How can you have nothing?”

Pierre hesitated, then continued.

“You already know that one of the Golden Dawn’s great branches moved into Banyaksenir.”

“Yes.”

“But its scale is far larger than expected. Much more than you have heard.”

“How large was it for you to say that? I imagine it’s not just a gang-level nuisance.”

“It’s more accurate to say the entire city of Banyaksenir has been consumed by the Golden Dawn.”

“Consumed?”

The shop grew tense. Pierre’s eyes held no exaggeration.

Rowen groaned, Vigo rubbed his cheek with folded arms, and Nike merely picked at the dirt under his nails.

“And you just watched? That old man Salieri has lost all his sharpness huh.”

“…”

Pierre was at a loss for words.

The Salieri that Vigo insulted was the head of the Scales Order, revered by all. For Vigo to call him “that old man” was shocking, but only Vigo could say such things. Even if Salieri himself heard it, he would likely laugh it off.

Pierre hurried to explain, and Vigo grudgingly acknowledged that it couldn’t be helped.  

“It must have happened before anyone could act.”

“Quiet and sudden. Like having your nose cut off while your eyes were open.”

“They didn’t even know they were being robbed. Tch.”

Rowen quietly interjected.

“They chose the worst possible place, right between the Scales and Silver Blades."

“…Yes. It’s far too close. Nothing like this has been recorded before.”

The Golden Dawn had once kept their distance.

By taking Banyaksenir as their base, conflict was now inevitable. Their intentions were plain.

“An aggressive move indeed. Are they aiming for war, as in the past…?”

“I wonder what the Golden Dawn is planning.”

It felt like the herald of something enormous, the kind of event that would be written into history.

What would come if time kept flowing this way?

Rowen’s heart raced with dread.

‘Nike…’

At the center of all this turmoil, the boy lay with his head on the table, looking bored, waiting for the meeting to end as if it had nothing to do with him.

‘What are you, really?’

Rowen looked away again.

“If the entire city has been consumed, then all information must be tightly controlled. Entering would be close to suicide.”

“You never know who among the citizens belongs to them. Two investigators have already vanished without a trace.”

“How troublesome.”

Unlike witches, the Golden Dawn were like assassins without presence. Death might come suddenly in the street.

“This is difficult... I don’t even know where to start.”

Rowen sighed, pressing her brow.

“As expected, it would be best to request support from the Order according to regulations. We should seek the Captain’s advice… and also call in at least five squads.”

Pierre too looked at Vigo expectantly. Surely he would have a solution.

‘I wonder just how exceptional the great hunter of the Silver Blades Order truly is.’

But Vigo was just as troubled.

It was like being told to topple a fortress built by the Golden Dawn with only four people.

It was a reckless challenge, like trying to break a rock with an egg.

Vigo leaned back in his chair, smoking.

“Don’t even dream about getting aid. If more outsiders come, they’ll smell it and flee, or we’ll stir the hornet’s nest.”

He glanced once at the sleeping Nike, then spoke again.

“We will not request for reinforcements. We’ll handle it ourselves.”

“But… That’s far too dangerous.”

“One hound is enough. All we need to do is point him at the prey. That’s our role.”

Rowen, despite feeling uneasy, nodded after understanding what Vigo meant.

Pierre, who was still confused, asked again.

“Hound? What do you mean?”

Vigo rubbed the sleeping Nike’s nape and replied.

“The Golden Dawn will be hunted down by this brat.”

“…?”

“All we need to do is pick the targets.”

Pierre blinked, dumbfounded.

Not even Vigo himself, but this boy would be doing the fighting? In that city swarming with the Golden Dawn?

Was that a joke or was he being serious?

“Is that even possible? He clearly looks like a novice. Wait, is he even a hunter? And how… can he sleep through such an important meeting…?”

To Pierre, trained in pure reason as one of the Justitia’s Scales, Vigo’s words sounded like utter nonsense.

Vigo might have humor, but there was a time and place.

‘Disappointing. This is the famed great hunter? Has his reason been dulled?’

As admiration left his eyes, Vigo smiled with amusement.

“Hey Pierre, let me give you some advice as a senior hunter.”

“…Yes.”

“Never trust only your eyes or your experience. It’s always good to doubt. This boy may look like nothing, but who knows? He might be a ruthless, brutal hunter.”

Pierre bristled and retorted.

Reason and experience-based judgment were the most rational shield and spear against witches.

To deny that was to deny everything the Justitia’s Scales stood for.

“…Judgment born of one’s eyes and experience is the compass for frail humans adrift at sea.”

“Not wrong. But against unknown beings like witches, even compasses break.”

“…”

Pierre’s eyes hardened.

“Then if that boy interferes with the mission, may I kill him?”

“Oh? Are you being serious?”

“It’s simply a rational approach. Better to eliminate even small variables in advance.”

Pierre glared at the gray-haired boy still snoring on the table. It seemed better to kill him now.

Vigo laughed heartily and clapped Pierre’s shoulder.

“With that precious reason of yours, just watch a little longer. See for yourself if he hinders the mission.”

“…I’ll take that as permission granted.”

“Do as you please.”

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