Chapter 417: Poof

Just as the upheaval within the royal palace took place, the royal guards marched upon the Ryder estate. Their discipline and formidable strength made their advance through the capital swift and unstoppable.

The Ryders, as one of the old noble houses, owned a large manor not far from the Nightblades’ headquarters. Once Gerard confirmed the target, the guards wasted no time and soon arrived before the estate gates.

“Open up! The Ryder house is to be searched by royal command. Do not defy this royal order!”

Faced with a squad of armored royal soldiers, the Ryder watchmen at the gate broke into a cold sweat. What in the world did the royal guards intend with such overwhelming force at hand?

“As a noble house, the Ryder family is bolstered by the authority of the kingdom. On what grounds are you carrying out this search? If you cannot provide probable cause, then no matter who you are—”

Though visibly nervous, the captain of the household guards fell back on well-rehearsed formalities: empty words that could be repeated in any situation. Yet this time, he had gravely underestimated both the royal guards’ resolve and his own luck.

Fighting spirit surged. Muscles rippled with terrible power. A blade flashed, leaving afterimages in its wake. The guard captain’s words were cut short as his head parted from his shoulders.

“Didn’t I make myself clear? Out of the way!”

Blood fountained from the guard captain’s neck, spraying several feet high. It drenched the nearby guards and spattered across the face of the royal guard commander as he slid his sword back into its scabbard. The strength of a grand knight was nothing a mere formal knight could hope to resist. At that moment, the commander seemed less a man than a savage fiend.

“Understood!”

Terrified, the Ryder guards who had witnessed their captain’s execution didn’t dare provoke him further.

Compared to losing their lives, a steady wage was far less important. If they were to flee, even the Ryders wouldn’t care enough to pursue them. But to show defiance here surely meant certain death. The choice could not have been clearer.

The gates swung wide. The Ryder manor now lay open to the royal guards. The main force pressed forward through the entrance, their momentum and murderous aura sending maids and servants screaming through the courtyards.

The soldiers ignored them, for the most part. When some poor fool—either out of panic or desperate courage—snatched up a kitchen knife and charged at the invaders, the royal guards’ blades answered mercilessly, hacking the servant into bloody pieces.

“By royal command, the royal guard is conducting a search of the Ryder premises!”

Beyond the courtyard rose the manor itself, imposing in both size and style, befitting a great noble house. Naturally, its halls were riddled with traps and defensive arrays. Unless he had no other choice, even the royal guard commander would prefer not to trigger them.

“The crown has long oppressed the Ryder family. To think an ancient house of Aleisterre would be reduced to this state… The crown isn’t even bothering with pretense any longer. For the sake of nobility, for the honor of my family, I will not betray my principles by opening the gates to you!”

The Ryder patriarch’s voice rang out from within, loud and unflinching. There was no trace of fear—only the iron stance of one prepared to fight the royal guards to the death.

“Tch. Why do these spineless nobles only grow a backbone at the worst possible time?”

The commander clicked his tongue, frowning. Most nobles were opportunistic cowards, chasing profit with no loyalty to speak of. They could prattle about honor and dignity all they liked, but when the blade fell, those lofty words were always the first to be abandoned. Today, of all days, he had to run into that rarest of exceptions.

“Forward!”

With a sharp gesture, he gave the order to storm the Ryder manor.

At once, the royal guards surged forward. Heavily armored soldiers led the charge, lowering their bodies like living battering rams as they slammed into the manor gates.

The massive wooden doors were sturdy indeed—but only against ordinary men. Against a squad of knights, they stood no chance. With a crash, they splintered in a spray of shattered timber.

“Magicians, locate and dismantle the defensive arrays inside. Quickly, before the Ryders can turn them against us!

“Do not fear their prophetic powers. The kingdom has long accounted for them. Their strength has been strictly contained—none are beyond the level of a grand knight or mage.

“Neither can they escape from Aleisterre. Whatever foresight they possess, it will be useless against overwhelming force. Now, move faster!”

The mages swiftly began neutralizing the visible wardings, while the knights fanned out into the great hall, forming ranks and awaiting the next command.

As the soldiers prepared, the commander spoke loudly, reminding them of the Ryder family’s reduced standing. It was meant to steady their nerves against the fearsome reputation of these “Jesters of Fate.” As for how much of it was truth and how much was comfort, that was another matter entirely.

“Commander, all accessible defensive wards have been dismantled. The Ryders should have withdrawn to a shelter within the mansion by now. We are ready to begin the search.”

Efficient to the extreme, the mages had swiftly unraveled every visible defensive array.

“Good. Advance in formation. If the corridors narrow, break them down. Leave no openings for counterattack. Remember, the target is Charles Ryder. Stay alert. This matter touches upon the trail of two legends. There may be sudden developments.”

The commander of the royal guard issued his orders with deliberate caution. He knew the Ryder family possessed dangerous talents. They had to stay vigilant at all times. Yet the “sudden development” he warned of seemed almost too generous—because scarcely had the words left his lips before disaster struck.

“Commander! Spatial fluctuations—there’s an active large-scale teleportation array!”

The warning came from one of the mages at his side. The signature of a teleportation array rippled through the hall, powerful and unmistakable.

“They’re trying to flee? Seal the space at once! Do not let them escape. This mission is far too important.”

The commander snapped out his next command instantly. If the Ryders slipped away, seizing the mansion would be meaningless.

But the mage shook his head, his voice taut. “No, Commander. This isn’t an outbound teleport. It’s inbound. Something is heading our way. It’s too late to prevent it.

“They somehow found a way to cloak the activation of the spell. Normally, the surge of a large-scale teleportation is nearly impossible to hide. Only at the very last moment did we finally detect the resonance.”

The mage’s tone was tight with dread. In the world’s long history, no one had ever managed to smuggle an army through concealed teleportation—not even to spring forth and massacre an enemy stronghold. The sheer volatility of the magic made it unthinkable.

And though no army teleported into the Ryder estate, what did arrive was no less disastrous.

“Brace yourselves—the teleport is occurring now!”

The mages had no choice but to throw up hasty mana shields over the soldiers. There was no time to even prepare for combat.

The floor of the great hall exploded. A chain-blade wreathed in razor-sharp fighting spirit tore up through the marble, lancing straight toward the royal guard commander at the heart of the formation.

The weapon punched through a soldier in full plate, armor and all, before striking the commander himself. Sparks showered as he caught the blow on the broad steel of his greatsword, just in time to keep it from skewering his chest.

The impact drove him back several steps. From the smoking crater below rose a figure that made his heart thud. He knew instantly that, as a grand knight, he would be no match for his opponent.

Out of the hole stepped Uller, former Grand Marshal of the royal guard. Fighting spirit blazed around him, tangible as fire, his chain-blade retracting into his grip. He gazed coldly up at the commander, offering no words—only the promise of death in his eyes.

“Withdraw!” the commander barked, regaining his composure. “I’ll hold him back. He can’t have been the only reinforcement. The palace is nearby. We can request more support quickly. Send the signal, now!”

Now that the Grand Duke of the North had sent a subordinate over, the royal guard commander knew that he alone would be outmatched. The royal guards would need to be supported by more soldiers, more knights, and more strength.

But Uller did not press the attack. He stood, chain-blade coiled and ready, watching with pitiless calm as the royal guards began their orderly retreat from the Ryder estate. He seemed content to wait and hold them at sword’s length.

“It’s the Nightblades!” one soldier shouted. “But they’ve left the capital. How can they be here already? And how—they have legends in their midst! Damn it, it’s a trap! Signal the palace at once!”

The guard had barely managed to issue a warning when the retreating troops realized their plight. Outside the Ryder estate, their fellows lay slain, having been silently dispatched. Their own force was already surrounded. The one leading the encirclement was Kevan, veteran of the Selwyn campaign.

The “unlucky” Ryder guard captain they had slain at the gates had been nothing but a doppelgänger crafted by Kevan’s potential. The moment the royal guards had stepped inside the mansion, they had triggered the trap.

Now they were caught between a hammer and an anvil. Even the best-trained soldiers felt the fear of an impending assault. Their only hope lay in the reinforcements that must surely be rushing over from the palace.

A soldier glanced instinctively up at the distant peak where the palace loomed. Teleporting troops to this battlefield would take mere moments for the royal mages. If they could hold out for just a few moments, they would survive.

Suddenly, something flashed overhead. A streak of light, far away. Was it a trick of the eye? It arced down gracefully toward the palace.

With a boom, light brighter than the sun engulfed the mountaintop. In an instant, the palace vanished in a white blaze that seared eyes raw and deafened ears with its roar.

The soldier staggered, vision burning, skull ringing. Nearly a full minute passed before he blinked back the tears and the haze.

By the time his sight cleared, the peak of the mountain was gone. In its place lay only ruins. Poof went their reinforcements.

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