White Wolves – Chapter 8

They searched the city until sunset, but the White Wolves could not find Loyal.

Eventually, Dunmel declared that Loyal was not in Koholrun. If Dunmel could not find him, then there was no other course for Azwin and Sheyden.

“Strange. Could he have committed suicide out of guilt for losing his sword?”

Azwin seriously considered it, but Sheyden, chewing on fruit picked up from the market, was relaxed.

“Isn’t that out of character for him?”

“He’s surprisingly fragile!”

Azwin yelled abruptly and then clung to Dunmel, asking,

“You were the last person to be with him, weren’t you Dunmel? Was he acting depressed, or in distress?”

Dunmel responded with a short sign.

‘Not at all.’

“Well then, that’s good.”

Azwin snatched the fruit Sheyden was eating and bit into it. Her face had already forgotten about worrying for Loyal.

“Should we take a mid-term evaluation? What about our friend Kassel?”

“He’s not a bad guy.”

Sheyden answered immediately without much thought.

“Do you trust a guy who lies so easily?”

“He hasn’t lied to us, at least not that I know of. Why? You think he might betray us?”

“I don’t trust anyone I’ve known for less than a year. In fact, it was the same for all of you. Especially for a smooth talker, it’s harder to build trust.”

Azwin said with a sharp look as if she was about to stab someone.

Sheyden advised with a soft tone,

“Being betrayed by someone you’ve known for a decade is part of human relationships. You can also live your whole life loving someone you met yesterday. It’s better not to overestimate your judgement, Azwin.”

“Oh, my, so you are going to bestow trust upon Kassel?”

Azwin spat out the fruit she was chewing, grumbling, ‘Ew, bitter.’

“What I mean is, it’s better to trust him for now. He’s a guy who survived by exerting all his strength, through good luck and bad luck. Do you think all of that was by coincidence? Was it a sequence of coincidences that led him to us?”

The streets of Koholrun at night were quieter than those in other cities of Camort. Sheyden’s voice echoed down the alleyways, even though he was speaking softly.

“I was going to spend my entire life as a bureaucrat in Irophis, but one day I saw a sword duel started by some young guy on the street and became a knight. I wanted to have that kind of battle too. On the other hand, Gerald might have been destined to be nothing more than a noble’s bodyguard after a lifetime of being a mercenary. But one day, he heard a voice guiding him in his dream and headed to Aranthia. What about you?”

Sheyden continued his thoughts without waiting for an answer.

“That’s what fate is. It may have been a coincidence that he picked up that precious sword. But it was his will to survive with that sword and come to us. That should be highly rated.”

“His will could veer off in a bad direction. Can’t you see it? He’s armed only with theories, without real-life experience. If a knife goes to his throat, he might immediately turn on us to save his own skin.”

“If he’s only got a good brain, he might do just that.”

Sheyden thumped his own chest.

“There’s a common saying. Keep your head cool, but your heart warm. That guy, his heart is warm.”

“I haven’t seen a slick talker who’s genuine.”

“Being a smooth talker is a habit.”

“What kind of habit?”

“A reflexive response, let’s say. What would you do if someone tries to hit you on the back of your head?”

Sheyden lightly swung his hand toward Azwin’s head. Azwin immediately blocked and even retaliated. Sheyden just barely stopped Azwin’s hand and spoke.

“It’s like that.”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about. Ew, disgusting.”

Azwin took another bite of the fruit she was eating and ended up throwing it in the trash.

“It’s about being trained. Regardless of how good your swordsmanship is, without real-life experience, it’s as useless as a dead sword. The same goes for a good mind and eloquence. If you don’t practice passionately with people who accept you, it won’t work out.”

Sheyden halted and looked up at the sky. Raindrops started to fall.

“Do you think he will turn to save his own skin if a knife goes to his throat? No, just as we would do our best when a knife goes to our throats, he will have his own ways of defending himself.”

Azwin spread her palm and looked up at the sky that began to rain.

“Hmm, that’s a good metaphor. But that’s something unknown.”

“Though I was the one who suggested using him as our shield, if everyone agreed, we should at least take care of that shield.”

Azwin moved under the tent to avoid the increasing raindrops. The merchants in the market without tents hastily covered their goods or evacuated their spots.

“We will take care of him. He’s cute. I’ve already started to like him. That’s why I’m saying this. If he ever betrays us, I might not be able to hold back.”

They waited for a while, but the rain didn’t stop. Azwin shouted energetically, trying to change the mood.

“Hey, Sheyden, Dun! Let’s go to the inn.”

“Dunmel said he wouldn’t be there.”

“I trust Dun’s instincts too. But I have a feeling Loyal might have stopped by the inn during the day looking for us.”

“Loyal is not the type to go around asking for us.”

Sheyden said sarcastically.

“Let’s just go and see, even if it’s a waste of time.”

Azwin was already moving toward the inn.

With the rain pouring and the day darkening, the bar on the first floor of the inn was already crowded. A middle-aged woman in an apron, lugging her plump body, greeted them.

“Are you staying for the night, or just for a drink?”

She was unapologetically rough around the edges, a trait she honed from dealing with mercenaries and traders. Azwin typically managed men’s pressure with ease, but she tended to buckle when faced with such women.

Azwin’s voice, uncharacteristically soft, addressed the woman.

“We’ve arranged to stay here until tonight and we’ve already paid in full.”

“What room number?”

“204. But we won’t be staying any longer.”

“We don’t refund advance payments.”

The woman stated firmly.

“I’m not here to get a refund. One of our companions got separated from us, has he come looking for us?”

“No one’s been asking for you.”

“Did he leave a message?”

The woman shook her head. As other patrons’ orders started to pile up, an explicit annoyance painted her face.

“Could you please tell anyone looking for us to come to the Count’s residence?”

“Got it.”

Her response had an air of indifference that suggested she wouldn’t remember. Azwin gave up on handing her a written note. She’d probably not read it, and the note would go straight to the trash the moment Azwin stepped out of the inn.

Upon leaving the inn, Azwin spat in frustration.

“Did Count Godimer issue a decree saying being polite to guests warrants a death sentence?”

The rain kept starting and stopping, and the dense clouds cast a premature darkness on what was still early evening.

Sheyden yawned and spoke.

“Let’s go back. It’s Loyal, what could possibly happen?”

“I’m not worried about something happening to Loyal, I’m worried about Loyal causing trouble.”

While Azwin hesitated to leave the inn, a scrawny child, who had been keenly observing them, approached. He was so malnourished his arms were as thin as chopsticks.

“Are you Azwin?”

Azwin cocked her head in response.

“How do you know my name?”

“Some guy told me to hand you a note if a pretty woman with long braided brown hair came to this inn.”

Azwin clapped her hands.

“Was his name Loyal? A man in his mid-twenties, about my height, with brown hair?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t look like a man. But he said that someone named Azwin would give me money if I handed over this note.”

The boy held out his wet hand. In his palm, a note was folded into a small square, kept dry by his tight grip. When Azwin reached out for it, the boy pulled the note back.

“I won’t give you the note unless you give me the money first.”

“You know how to do business, huh? How much?”

“Two silver coins.”

“That’s pretty expensive for an errand, isn’t it?”

“I’ve been waiting all day to deliver this note. I couldn’t do anything else!”

“Oh, really?”

Azwin extended two silver coins with a playful smile. As the boy tried to snatch them, Azwin quickly retracted her hand.

“We have to exchange at the same time, right?”

Once Azwin held out the coins again, the boy extended his piece of paper. They snatched each other’s items swiftly. The boy took off, darting into an alleyway.

“What are you going to do if it’s nothing?”

Sheyden scratched his cheek, watching the alleyway the boy had vanished into.

“Are you upset on how I’m managing our travel expenses?”

Azwin said, unfolding the note.

“He knew my name, didn’t he? And what if it’s nothing? Just think of it as charity for a poor kid. Did you see his arm? How long would he have to go without food to look like that?”

“We’ve seen countless kids like that since crossing into the Kingdom of Camort. It’s a truly impoverished country. I wonder how those two idiotic counts have any money to sustain a war for years.”

Unfolding the note, Azwin caught sight of Loyal’s challenging handwriting. She moved towards the window of the inn and squinted in the seeping light to read it.

[I gave him less money as I thought if I gave him more for running the errand, he might take the money and not deliver the note. Please give the child a bit for his efforts.]

Upon reading the start of the note, Azwin chuckled. Sheyden and Dunmel stood beside her, reading along.

[I’m sorry for acting alone. Even if this note does not reach you, I believe we will meet in Normant, as long as Dunmel is there.

I’ve found someone to help us. They’re a poor couple who make their living by delivering wine, and as you know, there have been many unfortunate incidents around here lately. They don’t have the money to hire mercenaries, and there have been cases where the hired mercenaries even stole their belongings and ran off. That’s why I decided to accompany them. I wanted to go with you, but you already left. Let’s meet in the capital.

With love from Loyal who loves you all.

PS. I’ve thought about it all day, and I’m pretty sure I lost my sword in the Village of Defectors.]

“He knew to leave a note? He has put in some thought. If he had left it with the innkeeper, it might not have reached us.”

Sheyden chuckled softly.

“He sure does as he pleases. Helping others in these circumstances? Even though he himself needs help.”

Azwin folded the note and put it in her pocket.

“Since he’s gone ahead to Normant, we should set off as well. If they’re wine traders, their cart won’t be fast. We could possibly arrive first, and if we wait at the city gates, we may meet.”

As Sheyden spoke and turned around, his hand reached for the spear hanging on his back. Azwin didn’t draw her sword but moved her hand towards her waist. Dunmel stood in front of them both.

Three figures stood outside the inn as individuals in black robes slowly approached from every alleyway. There were six in sight, but there were surely more hidden.

Sheyden drew the trident from his back and slammed its tip into the ground.

“Patient bastards. Seems they’ve been waiting for us to leave the mansion.”

“Are they attacking again? They’re persistent.”

Azwin, a hand on her hip, commented.

Unexpectedly, one of the assassins perched on the rooftops started to talk.

“If we knew our contract targeted you, the White Wolves, we wouldn’t have sent the kids in the first place.”

It was a woman’s voice. Azwin was taken aback.

‘Huh, I’m surprised that our adversary is a woman. Seems I had some prejudice.’

The robe flapping on the rooftop appeared specter-like in its ominousness. Azwin tilted her head slightly upwards to face her and spoke.

“But you’ve come out now knowing we are the Wolf Knights? Pretty bold for an assassin to start a conversation.”

“Thought you should hear my voice a little. It’ll be more effective.”

“Effective?”

The assassin’s delicate hand, hidden within the black robe, emerged. Even in the dark, it strangely stood out as her hand suddenly brightened. A red flame sparked and travelled along her unusually long, red nails, then engulfed her entire palm.

“Oh, a mage? So that’s why you were talking?”

The mage’s flame fell above the three. All at once, they scattered in different directions. As the fireball hit the ground, a violent explosion blew in the inn’s windows and flames crawled and writhed on the ground, filling the area. Screams of terror rang out from the patrons within, and startled people stuck their heads out.

“Everyone, take cover inside!”

Sheyden shouted, raising his spear. At this, the crowd, scared of his weapon, ran back inside.

Sheyden looked around, but the assassins had already disappeared, and the woman who had cast the spell was no longer where she was. The vicinity was bustling with people trying to extinguish the flames that had spread to the inn.

Sheyden checked the positions of Azwin and Dunmel. They were already engaging in combat. He was about to follow them when he stopped.

‘The assassin spoke, then deliberately attacked near the tavern with magic? They want to draw attention.’

Without a second thought, Sheyden dashed towards Count’s mansion.

‘Kassel’s suspicion that they’re targeting the Count could be right.’

The moment the mage’s fireball exploded, Dunmel was already on the rooftops.

Dunmel swiftly marked the positions of the silently moving assassins in the alleyways below in his mind. His inability to detect direction by sound made their silent maneuvers meaningless to him.

The assassins moved in two directions. One group was chasing after Sheyden, who was darting towards the east.

‘I agree with you, Sheyden. I’ll leave the mansion’s area to you.’

Another group of assassins was circling around Dunmel. More precisely, it was Azwin they were tracking. Azwin was issuing instructions to Dunmel through her actions.

‘I should strike first? I’ll do just that.’

Dunmel revealed himself on the rooftop. The robed mage seemed taken aback by Dunmel’s sudden appearance, but soon displayed a composed smile. Her pale face, visible through the gaps of her black robe, reflected even in the rainy night.

“Quite impressive. It’s the first time someone tracked my location so easily.”

Her face was masked by the robe, but fortunately, her mouth was visible. Not that Dunmel was keen on hearing what she had to say.

“But how long can you endure against a mage? On this slippery rooftop due to the rain, you have to run on your two feet while I can float without touching anything.”

The mage spread her arms and slowly started to levitate. Dunmel remained stationary, only observing the movements of Azwin who was running under the rooftop. Over ten assassins were tracking Azwin alone.

“I didn’t expect someone like you to be in the Wolf Knights. But I have plenty of subordinates like you. One of you is nothing more than a finger’s worth of effort to me.”

The mage gestured with her hand.

‘Is she trying to use another spell?’

Moments later, Dunmel was surrounded by six individuals who had jumped onto the rooftop.

‘Ah, so the gesture was to summon allies. This is why mages are troublesome.’

“I said that you guys weren’t the targets tonight, but since you followed, there’s nothing else I can do.”

The mage stretched out her slender finger towards Dunmel.

“Kill him.”

Six individuals from six directions charged at Dunmel. There were six blades attacking, one aimed at his leg, one at his head, two at his chest, and two more as backup.

Dunmel remained motionless until the last moment, then parried the six attacks in succession with the two daggers in his hands. In a short instant, the six individuals were repelled simultaneously, with one of them having a dagger lodged in his throat.

Surprise flickered in the eyes of the assassins. Dunmel seized the moment and slit the throat of another one.

An immediate counterattack followed. But Dunmel just tilted his head to avoid the first attack and then thrust his chest forward. Without even looking, he jumped back to face the second attack, bumping the attacker’s chest with his back. The ones pushed by Dunmel slid off the roof and fell.

‘It’s more slippery than I thought. I’d better be careful.’

Dunmel cut down one man’s leg. The man screamed and fell to his knees. Dunmel then stabbed the heart of another one standing next to him. Without a chance to withdraw his blade, he seized another knife thrust from behind and stabbed it into the side of the man who was down on his knees.

The man with a knife in his heart staggered back. Dunmel pursued him in one stride and grabbed the knife lodged in his chest. Even in that state, the man attempted to fight back. Dunmel kicked his face and pulled out the blade. Red blood sprayed up.

The last one rushing from behind was half-beheaded with just a turn and a slash. Blood sprayed in the opposite direction, painting a red cross on the rooftop with the stain just ejected from the heart.

The assassins’ bodies slowly slid down from the rain-soaked sloping roof. Standing in the midst of it, Dunmel checked the location of the mage again.

An arrow, glowing with white light, flew past Dunmel’s side. He dodged it by bending backwards at the waist, letting the arrow of light skim past his chest. The arrow circled in mid-air and came back. Dunmel rolled aside to avoid it. Indeed, the rooftop was slippery. He narrowly stopped at the edge of the roof.

The arrow of light, controlled by the mage, curved and returned to Dunmel. With his legs firmly planted, he swung his sword and shattered the arrow of light. Sparkling fragments, like crushed powder, fell.

The mage floating in mid-air murmured something and raised eight arrows with both hands. But, hidden by the robe, her mouth wasn’t visible, so Dunmel couldn’t understand what she said.

Eight arrows flew. Four of them went straight, the others scattered in all directions. They targeted his legs, chest, and one even aimed at his head, dropping vertically.

That’s when Azwin leaped onto the rooftop. Although she grunted and struggled to climb up from under Dunmel’s feet, to the mage it must have seemed as if she’d popped up out of nowhere.

Azwin stood at Dunmel’s back, watching the erratic movements of the incoming arrows. She held a round shield to her left and spun her index finger.

It wasn’t necessarily a signal for Dunmel. Azwin had created about fifty signals for use in the chaotic and noisy battlefield and numbered about a hundred tactics. But this wasn’t one of those tactics, just a simple ‘turn left’ signal.

Dunmel turned left, and Azwin moved in the same direction, in tune with his movement. Their backs touching, their combined movements looked as seamless as flowing water.

The swords and shields of the two clashed in the darkness, causing all seven magic arrows to shatter. Sparkling powder beautifully fell beneath the roof. The final arrow was shattered upon the swords extended simultaneously by Azwin and Dunmel. They lightly bumped their swords together, then turned their backs to each other.

The mage bit her red lips and snapped her fingers. However, no assassins climbed onto the roof.

“Calling your minions? What should we do? I killed them all.”

Azwin teased. For the first time, the mage seemed flustered. As she did, Azwin’s smile became even more mischievous and fierce.

“Surprised we shattered your magic? I’m also surprised. It’s my first time seeing such an insignificant mage like you.”

Suddenly, the mage’s hand was holding a fireball much larger than before.

“I was just worried that if I used too powerful magic, the whole town might catch fire!”

“It’s raining, so it’s okay. Even if a fire starts, it will extinguish on its own. Go ahead.”

The mage waved his hand in the air. The fireball attached to his fingertips descended on Dunmel and Azwin. Azwin, for a brief moment, sent a simple signal towards Dunmel’s face.

‘I’ll be the base.’

Azwin hoisted up her shield, and as the fireball was about to hit, she swung it. When the magic flame collided with her shield, it exploded. Dunmel held back Azwin’s body as it was pushed backward.

From there, Dunmel retreated about two steps. Azwin raised her shield overhead. Dunmel jumped over her shield, and she timed a boost with her shield as he leaped.

Dunmel ran towards the mage. The mage hurriedly extended both hands, throwing arrows of light. Dunmel dodged them or deflected them with his sword.

The two swords that Dunmel swung cut the mage’s arms and deeply gashed her cheek. Then, she disappeared from view as she fell from the roof.

After landing, Dunmel first checked Azwin’s condition.

“Ah, it’s hot!”

Azwin took off her shield and placed it on the ground, then asked Dunmel in sign language.

‘Did you kill her?’

Dunmel shook his head and inspected under the roof. There was no one.

The two simultaneously jumped down from the two-story height. Where the mage’s body should have been, there was only a bloodstain.

“Seems like she ran away.”

Azwin murmured as she wiped the rain off her face.

‘Looks like she fled this way.’

Dunmel pointed down the alley.

“She didn’t seem to be after us in the first place? Just by the amount of unnecessary talk.”

Azwin grumbled.

‘From the beginning, she only wanted to confuse us and escape. Then she attacked.’

Dunmel asked in sign language.

‘Should we follow?’

“Let’s quit. I don’t want to get more involved.”

Azwin gave up neatly as she wiped her bloodied sword and sheathed it.

☆ ☆ ☆

The study was dim, lit only by two oil lamps.

It was Count Godimer’s favorite room in the manor, especially on rainy days when he could sit and savor a glass of wine while listening to the rain.

Anfler, as if by habit, stood by the window, looking down at the manor’s main gate. Even in the rain, the guards continued their patrols along the designated path. However, the lush trees and bushes in the garden provided too many hiding spots, much to Anfler’s consternation. He had often pointed this out, but the count refused to compromise the aesthetic structure of the garden.

“Care to join me for a drink?”

The count, comfortably seated in his armchair with a glass of wine, offered. Anfler declined.

“I have the feeling I shouldn’t indulge today.”

The count swirled the red liquid in his glass, savoring its deep taste.

“It’s a wine I’ve been saving. I thought it might taste better if you shared it with me.”

“I apologize.”

Anfler politely declined, and the count did not press him further.

“How did I seem today?”

The count asked. Not immediately understanding the question, Anfler tilted his head.

“In what context, sir?”

“When dealing with Captain Wolf.”

“I believe you conveyed your intentions well.”

“I’m worried if I made a risky statement. There’s no guarantee that the Wolf Knights won’t side with the Lions or the Roses.”

As Anfler refilled the count’s empty glass, he spoke.

“Consider it a preemptive move. What’s done is done. Now, both counts are forced to wait and see what Koholrun does.”

Just yesterday, the news of the Wolf Knights’ arrival at Koholrun had put a fright into Count Godimer. Initially, he wanted to feign ignorance and send them away. But hearing that the Captain of the Wolf Knights had already met with both the Rose Knights and the Black Lion Knights left him no choice.

“What do you think about this entity called the White Wolves?”

“I only talked to one briefly yesterday, but I could tell that her strength is beyond my measure.”

“Her? What happened, Anfler?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

All Anfler could do was offer a bitter smile.

“Do you think I should gamble this country’s fate?”

“I’ve never heard of a handful of knights, however strong they may be, determining the fate of a nation. However, the reputation they have may be worth exploiting.”

“I would have considered using them if all five were mindless swordsmen. But there’s one who makes it difficult to think like that.”

“Are you referring to Captain Wolf?”

“He’s rough around the edges. Unrefined. He doesn’t think before he speaks, and he’s candid to a fault. With that attitude, he wouldn’t last three days in politics before being buried.”

The Count rhythmically tapped on the table, as if trying to match the beat of the rain outside.

“The problem is that the man is a White Wolf. People in such positions tend to be tight-lipped and harbor secret plots, but that Kassel guy is just too quick to reveal his intentions. It feels like…”

The Count fell into reminiscence before continuing.

“Remember the time when a farmer stepped forward to negotiate a wheat deal himself? His manner of speaking was almost like ‘You’re gonna buy this anyway, so let’s not waste time’, wasn’t it?”

“We did end up buying.”

“And the quality was indeed good.”

“Didn’t he even snatch a bottle of our cherished wine?”

“I was so shocked, I nearly hired him as a butler.”

Anfler shrugged it off with a laugh.

“He must be like that because he’s young. Those who wield swords are often like that — straightforward, not knowing how to look back.”

“Isn’t that what this country needs right now? Think of the royal court. Everyone’s busy saving their own skin and can’t show sincerity in the current political climate. Imagine a foreign young knight blabbing like that.”

“It will be one or the other. Either they will be chased away…”

“…Or the fate of this country will truly change. The king knew, didn’t he? That we couldn’t resolve the current situation with internal forces.”

The Count massaged his flushed face. Anfler corked the wine bottle.

“You should retire for tonight. Tomorrow will be a busy day.”

“But there’s still wine left?”

The Count sounded disappointed.

“It will be smoother and more flavorful if you leave it till tomorrow.”

“Fine then. I should listen to you.”

The Count put down his wine glass and rose from his seat with difficulty. At the same moment, a dark shadow rose from the depths of the study.

“Who’s there?”

Anfler immediately drew his sword and stood in front of the Count. It was a large man, big enough to nearly obscure the window. The Count had no idea when he had entered the study.

The Count dropped his wine glass. Thanks to the thick carpet, the glass didn’t break, but made a dull sound as it rolled across the floor. Anfler, unfazed, shouted.

“You must be part of the same crew as the assassins from yesterday. Don’t think about leaving here alive.”

The assassin neither responded nor paused in his approach to the center of the study. At first, Anfler thought he was dressed in black, but upon closer inspection, he saw that the man wore no shirt, only a mask obscuring his face. His muscles, reflecting in the candlelight, looked so solid as if they wouldn’t even be scratched by a sword.

“I came to warn you, Count Godimer.”

The voice came from an entirely unexpected direction. While Anfler was distracted by the window, another figure stood behind the Count. A figure in a deep robe, her face concealed, but her voice was unmistakably that of a very attractive woman.

“But it’s clear you won’t listen, so I’ll just have to claim one life here,” she said.

With a swift movement, she twisted the Count’s arm and held her blade against his throat.

“It’s best if you don’t move. I slipped past all those guards without rustling a single cloak; overpowering you would be no effort at all.”

“If you think I’ll let you kill Anfler while using me as a hostage, you’ve got it all wrong! I won’t extend my life that way!” the Count spoke strongly.

The woman laughed softly.

“Ah, your faith in your bodyguards is impressive,” she said to Anfler.

A hulking man dropped a round lump of iron from his right hand to the floor. It was the size of a fist, but it was heavy enough to crack the wooden floor as it fell. A thin chain was connected to the iron ball.

In his other hand, the man held a small shield. The chain from the ball was connected to it.

“Anfler, forget about me, fight!” yelled the Count.

“That’s right, Anfler, show us a fight. Let’s see if you’re as good as they say in Koholrun,” the woman said.

Biting his lip slightly, Anfler turned immediately, extending his sword toward the hulking assassin.

The assassin grabbed the chain, starting to spin the iron ball. As it picked up speed, it made a whistling sound in the wind.

Anfler shifted his body to ensure the Count was not hit by the incoming attack. At that moment, the iron ball was released from the assassin’s hand. It shot out in a straight line with great force. Anfler barely managed to dodge it, as if by sheer luck. The iron ball quickly returned to the assassin’s hand and started spinning again.

Anfler moved behind a bookshelf filled with books.

Once more, the iron ball launched from the assassin’s hand, shooting toward the bookshelf where Anfler was hiding. Anfler ducked and prepared to sprint out. However, the iron ball, which was supposed to hit the bookshelf, flew through it and headed straight towards Anfler’s face. He narrowly avoided it, but the ball grazed his forehead, causing him to lose his balance and fall. Shattered hardcover books and wooden fragments fell with a thud.

The iron ball returned to the assassin’s hand once more. The muscular assassin hadn’t moved an inch from his original position.

Anfler, rubbing his swollen forehead that was hit by the corner of a book, got up again. Once again, the iron ball flew toward him.

Anfler bent his upper body to dodge it, stepping forward and thrusting his sword. However, his all-out strike was blocked by the shield in the giant’s other hand, and his blade broke. Anfler didn’t notice the iron ball coming back towards the back of his head.

The Count turned his head away from the gruesome sight.

“Well, then.”

Before Anfler had even fallen onto the carpet, his head split open, the woman spoke.

“Let me explain my intentions. Please, no noise. You wouldn’t want more casualties, would you?”

The woman slowly removed the dagger pressed against his throat and stood in front of the Count. From beneath the deeply hooded cloak, her crimson lips came into view.

“There are two White Wolves left in this mansion, right? They may be on their way here, having heard this commotion. Let’s finish our conversation before they arrive. I won’t take too much of your time.”

The woman set a small vial filled with a clear liquid on the table. It was no bigger than the length of two knuckles.

“This is a poison, famously known as ‘Two Drops Five Steps.’ It’s literal. If you ingest two drops, you won’t make it past five steps before you die. And it’s untraceable. Very clean.”

“What… what am I to do with this?”

The Count swallowed hard before speaking.

“To be honest, we couldn’t handle the White Wolves with our strength alone. But you, Count, you can. Consider this point carefully.”

The woman stepped back with a smile.

The burly man opened the window for her.

“Let’s hope we don’t meet again.”

They vanished as quietly as they had arrived.

For a long time, Count Godimer sat in his study.

Even as the guards came and found Anfler’s body, causing a ruckus, he sat there.

‘They must have researched how precious Ike was to me. To a man without a wife or children, nothing could be a more potent threat than taking the life of my only friend.’

Shortly after, Kassel arrived in the study. He was shocked to discover Anfler’s corpse, as if seeing a dead body for the first time. The Count thought he might offer some words of comfort, but after a moment of hesitation, Kassel simply closed his mouth. It was, oddly enough, a relief.

Sheyden appeared, thoroughly drenched in rain. Gerald, too, appeared soaked after a while. Even though Gerald had been inside the mansion like Kassel, he was inexplicably just as wet as if he’d been outside for a long time.

Azwin and Dunmel also appeared. They too were in the same condition. They didn’t say anything to the Count. They assisted the guards in removing Anfler’s body.

“I apologize.”

For some reason, Kassel apologized and retreated. The Count, lost in thought, didn’t respond, and Kassel left the study without waiting for a reply.

Even afterward, the Count spent a long time in his study, the poison given to him by the assassin still in his hand.

Morning arrived quickly, and the Count rose from his place, startled as if he had just been forced into making a choice.

Bloodstains still vividly marked the carpet, yet to be properly cleaned. The count staggered out of the library, tears welling up belatedly. He barely managed to wipe his face with water, thanks to the maidservants he asked for assistance.

Seeing his reflection in the mirror, he was shocked. His face had aged at least a decade, his hair had turned an ugly shade of white. As he moistened his hair with water, he managed to gather himself, his bloodshot eyes staring at his reflection in the mirror.

“Are the knights of Aranthia still around?”

“Yes, but they said they’ll be leaving soon and wanted to know your intentions,” replied the soldier standing nervously behind him.

“What were they up to all night?”

“Three stayed in their rooms, and two of the taller ones helped the guards secure the mansion.”

“Is there any damage apart from Anfler?”

“Three are dead and four are injured and receiving treatment. Some soldiers are yet to wake up, so the death toll may rise…”

The guard answered cautiously, as if it was his fault.

“Meet the injured soldiers later. I need to meet the White Wolves first.”

The count added in a weakened voice.

“And tell the chef to prepare breakfast.”

☆ ☆ ☆

When Count Godimer entered the dining room, the White Wolves were already seated at the table. Everyone had a stoic expression, except Kassel, who looked worried. Seeing the captain’s worried expression, the count felt troubled.

‘It’s as if he sincerely feels responsible for Anfler’s death and is worried about me.’

The count opened his mouth, a smile appearing on his face reflexively.

“There was a big incident last night, but I’m relieved you’re all safe. I asked the chef to take special care with the food preparation today. Let’s forget yesterday’s unfortunate events and focus on state affairs again.”

Before he could finish, Kassel opened his mouth.

“We’ve discussed last night’s events. We want to help, but we concluded that it would be more helpful to you if we leave this mansion. Is there anything else you want to say to us before we leave?”

“Do you need to leave so urgently? Let’s talk over a meal.”

“No, we’re leaving now.”

“Right now?”

“Yes, right now.”

The count was taken aback. The other four, excluding Kassel, were already standing.

“Don’t leave like this. Let’s eat first. Don’t you need time to prepare the carriage?”

“We were really rude, but we asked your soldiers for a carriage yesterday.”

Suddenly, Kassel was speaking curtly. He too was getting ready to stand.

‘They’re pressuring me.’

Slowly, the count reached for his teacup and took a sip.

“To all the nobles in Normant and indeed the Kingdom of Camort…”

The count paused his words, taking another sip of his tea. The White Wolves too stopped, waiting for his next words. Kassel was just about to rise when he found himself sitting again. The count continued, not taking his eyes off his teacup.

“…I will announce the arrival of the White Wolves.”

“Didn’t we agree to keep our arrival a secret just yesterday?”

Kassel asked.

“I was mistaken. Whether it’s one or both counts, the assassins they’ve hired have undoubtedly attempted to kill you multiple times. But if we disclose this fact, it will be more challenging for them to assassinate.”

“What about His Majesty the King? If they learn in advance that he’s sought help from another country, won’t the two counts prepare?”

“By the time you’ve reached here, they probably already knew and are preparing.”

The more the count spoke, the more composed he became. Servants came from the kitchen carrying bread and jam, which they laid on the table.

“That’s all I can do. Captain Wolf will have to handle the rest.”

“Very well. We will head to Normant as we are. Please notify the other nobles of our itinerary.”

Kassel, tearing off a piece of warm bread and putting it in his mouth, said this.

“Don’t ever reveal your connection to His Majesty the King or the Wolf Knights. And at the right moment, I’ll request your support again. Please assist us then.”

“Don’t expect much help.”

Kassel sipped his tea and smiled faintly.

“The bread is very good.”

“Of course. It’s made with the finest ingredients and by the best baker.”

“I’ll take a few for the road instead of a lunch box.”

Kassel picked up two pieces of bread, tossed them to the other White Wolves, and stood from his seat.

“Do you trust me?”

The count suddenly asked.

Without any hesitation, Kassel replied.

“Yes. I trust you.”

“In the final moment, I may stand on the side opposing you.”

“I don’t know how to calculate that far.”

Kassel followed the White Wolves who were already heading outside.

“I’ll see you again. And thank you for your courage, Count.”

The Count, about to sip his tea, looked surprised at the last words and turned around. But the door was already closed.

“Courage, is it?”

The old butler who had been waiting by the door looked at the door that the White Wolves had closed for a moment before slowly opening his mouth.

“I have a message for you, sir.”

“What is it?”

The count asked with a somewhat dazed expression.

“Captain Wolf said, if nothing happened and the breakfast ended peacefully, to tell you…”

“What does that mean? Nothing happened?”

The Count asked with a suspicious look.

The door to the dining room swung open as armored guards marched in. The butler, begging for pardon, spoke.

“Captain Wolf mentioned something suspicious, and given yesterday’s incident, I had guards on standby just in case. Thankfully, nothing untoward happened…”

“Explain yourself! Something’s happening under my roof, and I know nothing about it?”

Visibly flustered, the Count shook his head violently from side to side.

“Actually, I don’t know much myself.”

The butler explained cautiously.

“Captain Wolf suggested there might be two assassin corpses somewhere in the garden. As it was just before dinner, I had no opportunity to inform you, my lord. I didn’t expect dinner to end so quickly and have only now found the time to mention it. My apologies.”

The Count, in his frustration, rose from his seat.

“Never mind your apologies at this time. Two assassins?”

Just then, a soldier rushed into the dining room. He glanced at the Count and the butler, huffing and puffing, then reported.

“There really are two corpses in the garden.”

“Lead the way.”

The Count bellowed, following the soldier.

Two bodies lay in the rose garden, unmistakably the same pair who had threatened him in the library the day before. One was the brute who had relentlessly pursued Anfler, only to have his head smashed, and the other was the woman who had stood ghostlike, menacing him. She stared into the void with her eyes wide open.

“Who could’ve done this…?”

A soldier, aided by another, walked towards the Count. He was one of the ones injured in the sudden attack the previous day. Upon regaining consciousness, he had insisted on reporting to the Count and stumbled out.

“Tell me exactly what you saw.”

The Count urged him.

“Last night, I was brought down in the ambush. I didn’t lose consciousness but I couldn’t get up. I tried to scream for help in the rain, but my voice wouldn’t come out. I was foolishly lucid, unable to do anything. I apologize, Count. I’m at a loss for words.”

The inarticulate soldier repeatedly apologized and confessed his helplessness during his narrative. The Count was on the verge of losing his patience and telling him to stop saying sorry.

The soldier’s lengthy explanation boiled down to this: the two assassins had left the library and climbed onto the roof, where they were pursued by a knight named Gerald. A fight broke out. The soldier claimed Gerald fought barehanded. Even after falling off the roof, the fight continued, and Gerald remained unarmed throughout.

The Count could hardly believe it. Upon inspecting the roof later, he found traces of a fierce battle. The whole roof would need replacing. Gerald had defeated the skilled assassin with just his fists, not even drawing his sword, which caused the female assassin to flee. The soldier described her as a ‘ghost’. The Count agreed with that description.

Gerald wasn’t able to pursue and could only yell at the woman, ‘Who the hell are you?’ She responded with, ‘You’ll find out when the time comes, but you will all be annihilated before that.’ But before her warning was even finished, she fell to the ground.

The soldier remembered up to this point.

There was a dark hole in the woman’s chest. It looked as if something had pierced through it.

Count Godimer took out the vial the woman had given him from his pocket. It remained unopened, not a drop used.

“Do you think I’m brave?”

He uncorked the vial, scattering its contents on the ground. Then he tossed the remaining vial forcefully onto the stone floor. It shattered, pieces flying in all directions.

“Is this what you meant, Captain Kassel? You knew it all and had the audacity to break bread with me.”

Godimer broke into a laugh. Then he turned abruptly and ordered his butler.

“I need to write letters. Mobilize all the ravens. And prepare the fastest horse.”

The Count intended to keep his promise and write letters of the same content to numerous nobles. The White Wolves were coming from Aranthia and heading towards the royal family!

‘But I should write something different to Count Enoa.’

☆ ☆ ☆

Kassel looked back at the receding mansion of the Count. Sheyden, holding the reins, glanced once at the mansion before asking Kassel.

“Did something go wrong?”

“I’m not sure. I wonder if not telling everything might have a backlash.”

Kassel mulled over the events of the previous day.

Gerald had realized that someone had intruded and went towards the study. By the time he got there, Anfler had already been attacked. He also heard the assassins threatening the Count. Gerald hesitated, fearing that if he intervened, the Count could be taken hostage. So, he decided to wait and followed the assassins out of the study window when they left.

He thought the assassins would head towards the garden, but they moved to the roof. Gerald quickly caught up with them, and the fight ensued on the roof.

Gerald had intended to capture them alive, but there was no opportunity to do so. Furthermore, when one of them almost escaped, Sheyden threw a spear and killed her.

Kassel, witnessing this situation, realized that the two assassins had already threatened Count Godimer and left. So, he did not tell the whole story until the end, and instead, watched if the Count would use the poison.

Kassel, seeing this, realized that the two assassins had already threatened Count Godimer and left. That’s why he never mentioned killing the two assassins, and watched to see if the Count would use the poison.

Count Godimer ultimately didn’t bring out the poison. And by now, he would have realized that Kassel knew about it.

“Sheyden.”

Kassel sat down next to Sheyden, who was driving the horse, and spoke heavily. The carriage was already speeding along the dirt road, having left Koholrun.

“Am I doing this right?”

“Why are you asking? Because Count Godimer didn’t take our side?”

“I thought I could grasp it with my own hands.”

“If he had opened his heart easily to strangers after his friend was killed, we should be more suspicious.”

“Is that so?”

“You’re doing just fine.”

Azwin’s voice came from the carriage.

“That’s right. You’re doing well, Kassel.”

Kassel looked up at the carriage. Despite the empty seats in the cabin, Azwin was sitting on top.

“Kassel, your job is to not betray us.”

“There it is again.”

Sheyden let out a dry laugh.

But Azwin emphasized it again.

“You absolutely cannot betray us. Understand?”

Kassel responded as if it was obvious.

“Have I ever done anything that suggests otherwise?”

“No, you haven’t. But I still have to say it. Because I’ve started to like you, Kassel. And there’s nothing more heartbreaking than the boy you like abandoning you.”

Upon hearing her confess her feelings, Kassel’s heart fluttered momentarily, but he replied in a nonchalant manner.

“Yes, I won’t abandon you.”

To calm his heart, Kassel thought of the journey ahead. His excitement quickly settled down.

‘We’re going to Normant. We’re going to meet the King of Camort.’

His heart calmed so much so that Kassel began to feel a sense of emptiness.

–TL Notes–
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