Chapter 22: Mission (2)

“This is crazy.”

Were Ael’s words upon arriving in the Huit territory.

We had to wait for a long time just to enter the castle gate. Inside the territory, the streets were already so packed with people that the ground wasn’t visible.

“What are you doing? You’re going to walk like that?”

Simurtr gave Ael a pathetic look as she struggled, trying to somehow pass through the people.

“You’re a Mectera. If you don’t want to raise your magic, stop and come here.”

There were no people around Simurtr.

To be precise, people were consciously avoiding him.

During the Hero Festival, where carriages were forbidden, most nobles moved around like this.

The nobles right behind us were doing just that.

Either raising their own magic, or sticking to an escort who could use magic.

“Can we do it too?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you.”

Deban and Juyce were also using the same method, but it was no match for the Star-Breaking Style.

It wasn’t for nothing that it was called an ‘aggro-puller’ on the battlefield. The common people would naturally avoid it, unlike the Doom Species.

“So it was magic for the festival after all.”

“I guess so.”

Ael laughed and Deban responded.

People didn’t even think of entering within a certain radius. A large man took a step in for a moment, then his body trembled greatly and he moved out of the range.

“One more word and I’m leaving you behind.”

“……”

Simurtr’s party walked comfortably down the main road.

The place we arrived at was an inn near the north gate, with a sign that read ‘Northwest’s Short Slumber’.

“This is it.”

Juyce took the lead and opened the inn’s door. He spoke with the innkeeper as if he were familiar with the place, and received four keys.

Just before Juyce and Ael left, Simurtr’s party gathered in one room for now. Since we arrived together, it was to divide the schedule.

Ael wanted to return with Simurtr. And if she had the chance, to see the Hero Festival together.

“The deadline is a week, but I don’t think we need to drag it out. The mission’s difficulty is not high.”

After settling down, Juyce spoke.

“Lady Ael and I plan to cross over to the Kwaran territory today. The mission execution date will be decided after we arrive and assess the situation.”

“We will be staying here. Are you two okay with that?”

When Simurtr and Ael nodded, Deban took out a photograph.

“As you already know, my and Sir Simurtr’s surveillance target is this guy.”

Deban tapped the photo with his finger.

A large man with a hooked nose. Andre Koitro. The second son of the Viscount Koitro family.

“Our target is this guy. Memen Artang.”

Juyce also took out a photo.

It was a man with repulsively bloated flesh, and both had unforgettable impressions.

“Andre Koitro is at the mansion he prepared in the Huit Barony. According to the Imperial Intelligence, it’s for a deal. He’s also close with the scion of Huit.”

“The deal apparently ended yesterday. There’s no reason to rush. We can proceed slowly.”

“We were thinking of carrying it out today or tomorrow.”

“Isn’t that too fast?”

Juyce frowned at Deban’s judgment.

“There’s no reason to do it slowly either. I thought it would be better to take care of it quickly and rest.”

“……”

As Juyce stroked his chin with a stiff face, Ael, who was watching, opened her mouth.

“Okay. Let’s do that too. I want to finish it quickly.”

“…I understand.”

As Ael spoke, Juyce eventually nodded as well. It was obvious he had reluctantly agreed.

‘That’s right.’

Swordsmen were a race that couldn’t lie for the life of them. Simurtr looked at Deban. That guy, who always kept a smile fixed on his lips, was the unusual one.

“But Swordsman Juyce, are you really okay?”

Suddenly, Deban turned his gaze to Juyce.

“With what?”

Juyce flinched at Deban’s question.

“You like it, don’t you? Killing nobles.”

The Mectera had the right of summary execution.

If Andre Koitro really owned slaves, it meant they could cut him down on the spot.

“You can switch now if you want.”

Juyce’s love for nobles was peculiar.

He preferred to split their bellies open.

He said the scene of noble blood gushing out like a fountain was more exciting than gold coins pouring out.

It was a famous story in the 3rd Sword Order.

“…It’s fine. I can’t do that when I’m with a direct descendant.”

“You can’t regret it later.”

Deban chuckled and changed the subject.

“For now, Sir Simurtr and I will…”

It was about the mission.

It lasted for about an hour, but Simurtr forgot the contents.

No, it would be more correct to say I didn’t hear it.

Because today was the traitor’s day, and right next to me, the traitor was breathing.

***

“See you later then.”

Ael and Juyce left.

Deban also left the room. Soon, a presence was felt in the next room. Deban was in the room next door.

“A good place to defend. And a good place to attack.”

Simurtr thought of the 3rd Sword Order again.

Juyce, Moit, Deban.

The formal swordsmen participating in this mission. Among them, Deban was said to have volunteered to accompany Simurtr.

“Is it interest? Or Janya?”

The Huit Barony. The neighbor of the County of Jabad, Janya’s family. It was surely no coincidence that the mission was set here.

Deban could be Janya’s hunting dog, or he could be a swordsman unfairly caught up in this.

I could understand it being either the former or the latter.

Just like Simurtr, Deban had been interested in Simurtr since the Selection Ceremony.

The thought of wanting to do a mission together, if he had to do one, was not that strange.

“Well. I’ll find out soon enough.”

There was no need to worry about it.

It could truly be a coincidence.

Perhaps all of this was my delusion, and I might just finish the mission quietly and return…

‘No way.’

That inferiority complex, that arrogance.

Janya was just like the nobles Exa had dealt with so tediously in his past life.

A mission in another territory. With only a single swordsman by his side.

“She won’t miss such a good opportunity.”

And if Deban were to join the ambush prepared by Janya…

“I’ll have to spare him at least once.”

I was fully willing to spare him.

My mood was truly unpleasant, yet good.

Because thanks to this, an opportunity to get involved with the traitor might have arisen.

Knock, knock.

When the knock sounded, Simurtr checked the clock. 2 AM. The promised time. Simurtr grabbed his sword and opened the door.

“You’re going like that?”

Deban said after scanning Simurtr’s attire. A black martial arts uniform. Not a single piece of armor was worn.

“Is it necessary?”

“You never know.”

“Forget it. It just gets in the way.”

Deban nodded and took the lead. We left the inn and walked down the main road.

“For the Hero Akarr.”

“Long live Bahab. Long live Akarr.”

The moon was full and the day had changed.

From Basor’s Day to Bahab’s Day.

As befitting of Huit, which proclaimed itself a vassal, toasts for Akarr Bahab were ringing through the dawn.

‘Looks like he’s doing well.’

Their praise of the hero was truly disgusting, but I was glad.

I had once hoped that the traitors would be healthy. They were fulfilling that expectation.

“To be honest, it’s called surveillance, but you know it’s not real surveillance, right?”

“I know.”

The Imperial Intelligence. The information from those ridiculously meticulous people was usually accurate.

It meant that Andre Koitro really did own slaves, and there was no need to conduct surveillance.

“But do you normally do missions at this time? We’re not some assassins. So gloomy.”

“Do you dislike Degrate? I quite liked them.”

“I don’t hate all of them.”

Those gloomy ones.

The only one Simurtr liked from Degrate was Semenu.

“It’s usually up to the person on the mission. It’s fine to do it during the day, but I don’t really like being in the spotlight.”

“Why? It’s a chance to gain fame.”

“It’s just a hassle. You just make enemies outside for no reason.”

“Oh.”

A strange light flashed in Simurtr’s eyes as he looked at Deban. He really wasn’t a guy who suited Mectera.

“This is it.”

The place we arrived at was a mansion at the northern end.

The city wall was visible not far away. A distance from which Huit’s soldiers could arrive quickly if a commotion arose.

“It doesn’t matter if the soldiers come, right?”

“Of course. Though it would defeat the purpose of choosing the dawn hours.”

He preferred to finish it quietly if possible. Deban said so. The Imperial Intelligence would handle the aftermath anyway.

“Really? Then I can just go wild, right?”

“Hmm. That’s not exactly an expression a Mectera should use.”

“I’m an adopted son.”

“Then shouldn’t you be more careful?”

“We’re just the Empire’s lackeys anyway, what’s the point.”

The swordsmen were still excellent, but Mectera lacked a powerhouse who could surpass the standard.

Neither Medeoban, nor Orde, nor the Heads of the Sword including Aran could dare to face a Hero.

It was different from the past. They were not equals with the Imperial Family.

The weakened Mectera had been reduced to the Imperial Family’s dogs to survive.

“If you put it that way, so is every noble in the Empire.”

“That’s true too.”

The power of a Hero was frightening, but in the end, they were under the Imperial Family.

And that Imperial Family was now using Mectera for the Empire’s cleanup.

‘Rights, my ass.’

The right of summary execution. Every time I thought of it, it was hard to hold back a laugh.

If they truly wanted to clean up the Empire, they should start by changing the Emperor.

They couldn’t even touch the trash that couldn’t even be discarded. Who could touch the Emperor and the Heroes?

“For now, the manpower is one escort. His skill is said to be similar to a formal swordsman from the main castle.”

“Like you?”

“Wouldn’t that be the case?”

“Total personnel?”

“Excluding Andre Koitro and the escort, there are four more. Two servants, two slaves.”

“What should we do? Should we kill them all?”

I had killed many, but I didn’t kill just anyone.

Although I had no qualms about killing, slaves were indeed an uncomfortable target to kill.

“Do as you please, Sir Simurtr.”

“In cases like this, do you usually kill them all?”

“That also varies from person to person. Swordsman Moit prefers to capture them alive and hand them over to the Intelligence.”

Juyce, apparently, preferred to kill them.

“If that’s the case, shouldn’t the Intelligence have handled it from the start?”

“I think so too, but the Intelligence is famous for being busy.”

“What’s there for them to be busy about? It’s been ages since the war ended.”

“I think so too, but they’re apparently really busy. They say they got busier after the war ended than during the war?”

“So that’s why we, a ducal house, are doing this kind of work?”

“It’s a job that families with lower titles can’t do.”

That was true.

Wasn’t the guy in that mansion the son of a viscount family? Most families, even with the authority, wouldn’t be able to go on missions so comfortably like this.

“So we, the lowest-ranking Hero Family, are doing it? Because we can touch anyone except the Hero Families?”

“That’s something, at least.”

“True.”

In the first place, it was funny to be bothered by such a fact.

Since when did I have an attachment to Mectera?

‘In fact, I should be grateful for this.’

If Gerehk hadn’t usurped Exa’s name, Mectera wouldn’t have even become a Hero Family.

Far from having the right of summary execution, they would have been pushed aside by the Hero Families and holed up in their territory.

“If we’re handing them over to the Intelligence, do we have to wait until those bastards arrive?”

“Probably?”

“Have you never done that?”

“I killed them all. They’re trash, aren’t they?”

“Then let’s just spare the slaves.”

Creeak.

Having made his decision, Simurtr flung the main door wide open. He walked confidently through the decently decorated garden.

“Aren’t you being too brazen?”

“What is there to be ashamed of?”

I pulled on the locked mansion door. Crack. The hinge was torn off. I roughly threw the door on the floor and stepped inside.

“Aren’t you being a bit insincere? It’s a mission, after all.”

“I’d show sincerity if the opponent was worthy. It’s just killing a viscount’s son.”

He’s right. Deban nodded absently.

Indeed, didn’t many swordsmen resolve low-difficulty missions quickly?

Preparation was for those who were not yet prepared. If one’s skill was sufficient, it was as if one was already equipped.

Still…

‘Is this really his first time in a real fight?’

This fourth young master was on his first mission.

His relaxed movements were, no matter how I looked at them, not those of a novice. A first mission. Far from being nervous, he was as calm as if he had just come out for a walk.

“Who… uh…?”

The heart of a servant who came out rubbing his sleepy eyes was pierced. Simurtr casually flicked his sword as he drew it. The blood that had soaked the blade splattered on the marble floor.

‘Wow.’

Deban gasped inwardly at that merciless handiwork. He didn’t think he would stab without a moment’s hesitation.

Deban examined the dead body. Simple curiosity. That state of mind was incredible, but he was definitely a novice.

Although he had killed Swordsman Keito in the past, he wouldn’t be used to killing.

‘…I was wrong?’

That thought completely vanished upon seeing the cross-section of the wound.

It was perfectly clean. There was no trace of hesitation. The tip of the sword had precisely pierced the center of the heart without the slightest waver.

“Urk…”

Deban raised his head at the sound of a sudden groan.

Not far away, at the foot of the stairs, a servant whose neck had just been slit was collapsing.

Simurtr lightly stabbed the chest of the servant who was letting out a deflating sound from his wounded neck.

“What are you doing? Hurry up.”

Simurtr, having spoken, trudged up the stairs.

Two killings. But Simurtr felt no emotion whatsoever.

‘Is that really a Mectera.’

Could a kid who was only 16, who had just stepped out into the world, be so bold? Deban let out a hollow laugh for a moment.

‘This is unbelievable.’

Deban laughed silently. No matter how much I thought about it, my eyes had not been wrong.

It wasn’t the direct descendants Jahar or Ael. The adopted son, Simurtr, was the right answer.

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