Chapter 44: City of Fanatics (5)

“Count Simas? Are you truly the lord of Banyaksenir?”

“Yes.”

Vigo ran a hand through his hair. If this man was really the lord of this city, he wanted to smash his face right there.

‘A bastard who manages his territory like this dares to call himself a lord.’

When Vigo held his tongue, restraining his anger, the Count spoke again.

“I’m truly ashamed to say this upon first meeting… but please help us.”

“With what, exactly?”

“With these troublesome wretches.”

He nudged the corpse of the apple seller, a man in his sixties who’d been shot with arrows, with his foot as he spoke.

Vigo’s face twisted for an instant. He wanted nothing more than to make this Count into a corpse just like that one.

‘A bastard who deserves to have his skull cracked open dares to…’

In this age, nobles were nothing but pigs who cared only about filling their own bellies, never about protecting their people.

As long as they weren’t pawns dancing under a witch’s skirts, that alone was worth giving them a generous score. That was how rotten the nobility of this country had become.

Count Simas, standing before him, was incompetent and foolish, but perhaps not entirely without shame.

‘In fact, he might be useful.’

Business and personal feelings had to be kept separate. Whatever else, this man had just helped them survive, and for the moment, their interests aligned.

They shared the same enemy.

Even with the Count’s incompetence, there was no reason not to join hands.

Right now, even sharing the burden of a sheet of paper was an advantage.

The problem was whether this lord could be trusted.

Vigo studied the orderly ranks of the city guards with a doubtful gaze. With the city compromised, believing the lord and his soldiers were untouched was dangerously naïve.

‘Is he really trustworthy…’

Count Simas seemed to read Vigo’s doubt and stepped forward.

“Do not worry. None of my soldiers are heretics.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because they don’t bear that cursed symbol.”

The triangular pyramid with the eye.

The mark of the Golden Dawn cultist’s Third Eye.

“That’s not exactly convincing. You can be a follower without the mark. Those who declare certainty so easily are usually swindlers too.”

“Haha. You’re right…”

Still, the Count rolled up his sleeve to show his wrist, proving he bore no Eye of Providence that Golden Dawn members would normally have engraved. Of course, Vigo wasn’t convinced.

“And every week, I hear the words of the Lord and sing hymns faithfully. I sleep with the Bible and the Solar Cross at my bedside.”

“…”

Again, only words.

There was no way to truly prove he wasn’t a fanatic. And no fanatic would ever openly admit it.

It couldn’t be confirmed right now, but rejecting his help and trying to get out of this city alone wasn’t an option either.

Vigo’s group had no choice.

He asked in the end.

“Fine. But won’t they strike again? After causing all this, I doubt they’ll just back off.”

“You don’t need to worry about that either. They never touch the inside of the keep. The inner castle is still under the Empire’s power.”

Vigo stroked his beard and nodded.

“True… if they killed a man with a title from the Emperor, the Imperial army would step in. They aren’t that far gone I suppose.”

“Exactly. They don’t want Banyaksenir burned to the ground either.”

“The best way to kill pests is to burn down the whole house. I’d like to have the Emperor’s kind of authority myself.”

A pointless joke.

Vigo finally relaxed his guard.

Rowen too sighed in relief and turned to Pierre.

“Pierre! Are you all right?”

“Ugh… Forgive me. This was all my mistake… I’m just glad the three of you survived.”

“We’ll talk later. First we need to treat you. Count, is there anywhere safe?”

Vigo supported Pierre and asked. The Count mounted his horse again.

“Are you planning to stay in Banyaksenir?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because the mission isn’t finished yet.”

As expected.

The Count was impressed by the hunter’s bold answer and nodded.

“Revenge!”

Nike, who had been running all this time without a chance to fight, shouted passionately, his blood boiling. The humiliation they’d suffered today had to be paid back.

Running away would only strengthen the enemy’s vigilance, and next time they might be assassinated before even entering the city.

Just as Magis had said, fleeing from Golden Dawn was pointless. They’d find Nike wherever he went.

Their next target would be Vilnogos.

That would only move the fire deeper into the heart of the Orders.

Even Rowen, who despised disorder, admitted there was no other choice. They’d have to continue the mission in this unstable state.

“We have to finish it here. Leaving the city would be the worst option.”

Rowen undid her messy braid as she spoke. Her hair damp from sweat fell down to her waist.

“…I’m ashamed to admit it, but she’s right. Logically, it’s better to stay in the city. If we give them time to regroup, it’ll only get worse… ugh.”

Pierre continued to blame himself.

Making such a mistake in front of hunters from another Order was deeply humiliating. Any misstep was a disgrace to the Scales.

“As expected of hunters. Very well, the safest place in the city is my castle. I’ll lead you there. Move out!”

Count Simas tugged the reins. His horse neighed and pawed the ground, and the guards surrounded the group.

With soldiers as their escort, Nike and his companions made their way to the Count’s castle. Around them, bodies were being gathered from the streets.

The ordinary townsfolk looked bewildered, frightened, and uneasy.

‘I bet most of them are just acting too.’

The same assassins who had wielded knives moments ago were now playing the role of harmless civilians.

Rowen bit her lip.

It was a sickening sight.

“Cultists. I hate them. Kill them.”

The four of them walked into the castle under a rain of murderous glares stabbing them in the back.

* * *

Inside the lord’s castle, the sight that awaited them was unexpected.

It was astonishingly safe. There were no sinister eyes tracking their every move, no murderous intent pressing down on them.

Just as the Count had said, the inner castle was untouched by Golden Dawn.

‘Unlikely to be an act. They aren’t trained enough for that.’

Even Vigo had to admit it, and he gave a word of thanks.

“Appreciate it. You’ve given us some breathing room.”

“No, it’s my incompetence that brought danger upon you.”

For outsiders visiting a city to face threats from its own citizens was absurd.

But it happened. Witch hunters were the ones being hunted. The thought of it was so ridiculous it almost made one laugh.

It was like something one would see in a nightmare.

“I’ll have my men bring tea. Please rest for a moment. I will go take care of the dead.”

“Ah, yes.”

Dozens had died during their escape.

Even if the city was under Golden Dawn’s control, on paper it was still the Count’s territory. He had to show his face and handle official duties.

Count Simas left the parlor, and the hunters collapsed onto expensive sofas, catching their breath.

Vigo stood at the window, cigarette between his lips, deep in thought.

Had he missed something?

Why were they exposed so quickly?

Their preparations had been meticulous.

‘They knew about me and Rowen from the start. When did they catch our scent?’

He had been too careless, even knowing this wasn’t an ordinary Golden Dawn cell.

Even Morgana hadn’t foreseen that a leader of a Sin-worshiping faction would appear in person.

That was beyond even a witch’s insight.

Which meant the enemy had wisdom and foresight on a level comparable to hers.

It was obvious that Vigo’s plan didn’t work.

They were thinking in ways no human would.

‘This isn’t easy.’

Vigo sighed and turned his head.

Nike was wide-eyed, marveling at the luxuries of noble life, utterly carefree.

That absurd boy was the eye of the storm.

The cause of it all.

‘On the other hand, Nike might be the only one who can catch them off guard.’

If the enemy had foresight enough to outwit even a three-hundred-year-old witch, then they needed a counter just as unpredictable.

With Morgana out of reach, the only one who could play that role was the world’s sole male witch.

Nike.

Not even Morgana understood his behavior.

‘Hm. This is getting amusing.’

Vigo finally settled on a course of action.

He needed to share it with his most trusted hand, Rowen.

‘Come.’

Rowen caught his glance and nodded, following him quietly into the adjoining room.

* * *

If things had gone as planned, they should have already met the investigator who infiltrated Banyaksenir ahead of them and obtained information.

Rowen vividly remembered the one who’d been killed by poison needles. The swollen blue flesh around his neck still made her shiver when she thought of it.

As goosebumps rose on her arms, Vigo spoke.

“Let’s share what little we’ve gathered.”

“Yes. First of all…”

Rowen recalled everything she had seen and heard. The most important thing was the noblewoman they had confronted at the decisive moment.

“The Seventh Seat of the Third Order… Huh.”

The last time a high-ranking Golden Dawn leader had revealed themselves in records was fifty years ago.

Considering that one of the original witches, Sin, had last been active fifteen years ago, that was a long time.

The higher echelons of Golden Dawn had been shrouded in secrecy. Many thought they were gone. But suddenly, they had reappeared.

It meant the tides swirling around Nike were anything but ordinary.

“They were clearly after Nike. They said if we handed him over, they’d let us live.”

“Blatant huh...”

The silence in the room was suffocating until Vigo finally spoke again.

“For the leader herself to appear is definitely surprising.”

“Yes. It seems that having Nike with us is a serious obstacle to them.”

Everyone knew Nike was special.

The problem was that with time, his uniqueness was proving to be far beyond what either of them had imagined.

“So what now? Shouldn’t we follow protocol and secretly request help from headquarters—”

“Rowen. Following rules is fine, but I taught you it’s just as important to adapt when the time calls for it.”

Rowen groaned softly.

No matter how she thought, she couldn’t come up with an answer. It was hard to admit that her ability was this limited.

In her mind, they should have gone back and requested help from the start. Then they wouldn’t be in this mess.

“You’re thinking it would’ve been better if we’d asked for help from the beginning, aren’t you?”

Vigo asked as though reading her mind.

“No!”

“No my ass, I can read you just from your face. I told you to fix that. If a witch reads your thoughts, you’re dead.”

“…Sorry.”

Rowen pouted and lowered her head. She was ashamed of herself for never fully living up to her master’s teachings.

Her rigid personality made her inflexible, always earning criticism.

She thought following the solemn rules of the Order was proper, but she could see how clinging to doctrine in situations like this could be suffocating.

Nothing had gone right since they entered the city.

“Still, you’re not entirely wrong.”

“Huh? I… see.”

“If I’d known we’d end up like this, it might’ve been better to just request reinforcements and sweep them all away.”

Rowen brightened. Vigo continued wearily.

“And yes, by the book, retreating and calling for reinforcements would’ve been correct. In the past, it would’ve been difficult to succeed.”

“Then why…”

“I said in the past, Rowen.”

“Huh? Oh…”

Rowen blinked, then nodded as she understood.

The difference this time was Nike.

“If it were just you and me, I’d plan a retreat without hesitation. The situation’s hopeless. Even if I slaughtered every fanatic here, we wouldn’t find the information we need.”

“Because the mission is intelligence, not killing…”

“Exactly. And where is that information?”

With the woman who had introduced herself as head of the Third Order.

They had to capture her and pry it out.

“That’s the problem. If it were just the two of us, we’d have no way. Those people have been so thorough they haven’t shown their faces in decades.”

“That’s true… But we have…”

“Yes. We have Nike.”

Rowen swallowed hard.

She remembered what Vigo had said the first time he saw Nike, that he might be the one to uproot the witches.

Back then, the words had seemed absurd. But now, they rang true.

Nike could do what they could not.

He was the game changer, the wild card. That was why he was the secret weapon of the Order.

Now was the perfect chance to prove it.

“Listen well, Rowen. Our current enemies cannot be predicted with human minds.”

“Huh? Ah….”

Rowen immediately understood.

Golden Dawn’s leadership showing their faces before Nike had been entirely unforeseen.

It was a move that struck at their blind spot, a play so unthinkable even Vigo had wavered for a moment.

“There’s a strong chance a witch is behind them.”

“They are a witch-worshiping cult, after all. Makes sense.”

“Indeed...”

Vigo’s face grew grave, so serious that it made it hard to breathe for Rowen.

“From now on, we plan. You and I will devise every strategy we can and make a list. Then we’ll ask Nike. We’ll see what kind of move he makes.”

“So you want to test him.”

“Exactly. We’ll see how much of a witch-like decision Nike makes.”

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