With the sound of cannon fire, the resistors in the yard imdiately panicked—cannons were not like mages, who had been native to this land for several millennia. Everyone might not have been a mage, but at least they had seen mages flinging basin-sized spells around and could sowhat cope with them.
But cannons, these bringers of death that used various calibers of ammunition, had ranges that now, by several multiples, surpassed those of the mages from Malin’s workshops.
From Malin’s position, he could see these people running out of options—so tried to scale the walls, only to be turned into targets and blown away by soldiers hidden in the shadows; so tried to hide inside the walls, but then the second cannonball, guided by druid scouts, passed through the wall, and the high-explosive shell turned the wall and the twenty-so unfortunate souls behind it into spirits of misfortune.
More people took shelter between the small building and the walls, hoping to use the building to block the cannons’ line of fire.
Then, the soldiers’ wooden-handle grenades were thrown over. They hit the walls then fell inside, blowing up those stubborn resistors in swathes.
Malin watched until the fight was over, feeling that his political officers had fully understood how to fight era-disparate battles, so he descended to the ground and entered the yard with the soldiers.
By this ti, none of this rchant convoy could stand.
That’s wrong, there were a few still breathing.
The leader was lucky; the collapsed wall had shielded him, blocking all the grenade shrapnel. Malin ordered him to be bound, then began inspecting the few survivors and the bodies.
To Malin, these people were either Chaos Cult mbers or so other shady characters, and if they were the forr, there would certainly be so mutations on them.
If they were the latter, though mutations might not be present, there would likely be certain marks on their bodies.
For example, imprints on the soles of so people’s feet.
However, it was unfortunate that no marks or tattoos were found on any of the corpses available, nor were there any mutations. Malin frowned, feeling that matters were sowhat beyond his expectations.
After being revived, the few injured were tight-lipped and now using torture would likely make them die instantly. Malin originally wanted to use mind control, but as soon as the first man was subjected to the spell, his head exploded like a balloon. If Malin hadn’t been quick to wrap the man’s head in Spiritual Energy, the next second the entire courtyard might have had to be repainted.
There must’ve been so prohibition. He decided to have these injured taken away to be locked up in the town’s cells, and after thinking it over, Malin decided to focus on the leader, who, as a high-ranking individual, would likely know a lot. Although considering the prohibitions, he couldn’t use Spell Formations on him, the man’s physique was still quite good. Malin left the torture to his subordinates and moved aside.
Most mbers of this rchant convoy looked like Northerners. Sketch artists were drawing portraits of each of them, which would later be copied and distributed to the soldiers. With any luck, they might identify so faces.
If not lucky, there was nothing that could be done, but it was better to do sothing than nothing at all.
The political officers took note.
That’s what Malin thought, while noticing two half-humans being carried down from the small building.
"Injured?" Seeing that these two had no significant bleeding, Malin thought the third floor must have been quite chaotic. Surviving the blast and fragnts from the artillery shells was certainly good fortune.
"Yes, sir, two injured. We found them stunned beneath a table on the second floor, appearing like those who had failed in a drinking contest and crawled under the table," replied the leading lieutenant.
"That’s good, wake them up. I need to ask them sothing," said Malin, looking at the two half-humans and feeling his luck turning around.
Hmm, before waking them, Malin prepared to give them a fresh taste of reality.
...
The soldiers tied up the two half-humans and dumped two buckets of water from a nearby well onto their heads.
The two half-humans imdiately ca to, screaming in agony.
"Throw them by the bonfire." Considering he still needed to interrogate, Malin didn’t want them to die from hypothermia during questioning.
The soldiers threw the two half-humans beside the bonfire, and Malin sat opposite them: "I am Malin, Malin Gaiate. You should know who I am. So, I want to know why you ca to the town, why you were watching that warehouse."
"Don’t say anything!" the leader roared from behind Malin, but even before he could continue, the executioner pressed an iron brand back against his flesh.
The leader convulsed on his rack like a fish out of water.
"See? Your leader is a Transcendent Professional, tough-skinned and sturdy. He can endure so punishnt and be fine after a while." As Malin spoke, he seed devilishly persuasive: "What about you? Your skin is tender, what would happen if the branding iron touched you?"
Saying this, Malin gestured, and a soldier handed over a red-hot iron. The devil in the half-humans’ eyes used it to light the tobacco at the corner of his mouth.
"Speak, who are you really?"
"If we tell, you’ll kill us!" The leader’s roar was again suppressed by a branding iron pushed against his stomach.
A soldier, wielding an axe, chopped off the leader’s leg.
```
Two half-humans scread.
"We are Black-clad operatives of the National Church!"
"We are here to steal items from the warehouse!"
Malin fell silent for a mont: "What did you just say?"
The two half-humans repeated it in unison and added a detail that was not ntioned before: "We have agents infiltrated in this Chaos Cult’s warehouse!"
Looking at the two half-humans who passed the verification, Malin turned his head and stared speechlessly at the tied-up salamander on the torture rack—What on earth are those fools from the National Church doing; why didn’t they give a heads up before their team ca here?
Now look what’s happened, it’s like flushing a dragon out of its temple with a flood, ally attacking ally, mistakenly believing them to be Chaotic Believers and striking with lethal force.
Thinking this, Malin casually dispelled the illusion technique.
The two half-humans looked at their leader who turned into a salamander, seemingly finding it hard to accept.
"Wrap it up, put all the bodies in coffins, I’ll have a word with the National Church right away." Flicking his cigarette butt onto the face of the bound and gagged boss playing spectator, Malin cursed without hiding his annoyance. A notice at the city gates would’ve spared all this trouble.
Fortunately, Lulu is a Night Watcher, a different branch from the Black-clad operatives.
No, it won’t do, I still need to find soone from the Church of Justice to lend a hand.
......
"My little Apprentice has grown up." Watching Lulu leave her office, the old lady sitting at the long table turned to her peer with a smile.
"Indeed, it feels like just yesterday when she hasn’t even ca to my place, and now she’s already married." Her peer gestured to her own legs, lanting.
"Malin is a very talented young man; what he did on the south defensive line of Copenhagen is astonishing. I’ve never seen such an outstanding young man, I would love to et him if I get the chance." As she spoke, the old lady looked toward her old friend: "Kassel, you old black-robed dog, without a daughter of marrying age, you must be heartbroken, eh?"
"Ha, dear Isabella, why would I be in pain, would that young man even take a second glance at the crooked gourds in my family? But on another note, I think you’ll be eting him soon; I’ve heard about what he’s done in Koser Town, sending the entire Dole Vince family to the gallows. Not a peep from the main Vince family in Copenhagen, truly satisfying to witness." The old man in the black robe laughed as he spoke.
His laughter made the old lady shake her head: "You always take pleasure in disaster, beware of joy turning to sorrow."
"Beware of what, I’m telling you, I’ve already sent my Basque Kork to Koser Town, we’ve completely penetrated that Chaos warehouse, all thanks to the bait guns we used earlier." As he said that, the old man looked toward the door: "Strange, the child Lulu has returned... Wait, there are also two unfamiliar sets of footsteps."
"Oh, my little Apprentice." Isabella turned toward the young woman pushing the door open, the young man standing by her side, and...: "Bishop of the Church of Justice, what a rare guest, how co you are here?"
"Uh, I am here accompanying Lord Malin today." The Thainan Bishop with the long white eyebrows sighed as he spoke: "It’s better to let Lord Malin explain."
"Malin?"
Isabella and Kassel looked at each other, seeing in each other’s eyes a deep wariness for their own ill-tid remarks.
And the young man they thought was both handso and lovely coughed lightly: "The incident that occurred in Koser Town, I presu you both are aware?"
"If you are referring to the mass suicide of the Dole Vince family, then we are indeed inford," Isabella and Kassel nodded together.
"No, I’m talking about the Black-clad operatives entering Koser Town." The poise of the young man seed sowhat awkward as he smiled.
"They didn’t inform you?" Isabella had a bad feeling.
"They didn’t inform you?" Kassel sensed a looming catastrophe.
"No, they disguised themselves as a rchant caravan and entered Koser Town. Previously, our squad discovered a warehouse guarded by a Chaotic Believer. When our mbers spotted them observing the warehouse, there was... a bit of an accident." The young man had a resigned smile.
"An accident... really now..." Isabella looked at the young man who passed the detection of lies and helplessly glanced at her old friend.
Kassel seed to have nothing to say, "Extent of casualties on both sides?" He even chuckled as he asked: "It’s fine, Lord Malin, such accidental conflict due to mutual ignorance is quite common, casualties on both sides are normal. All that matters is to ensure no problems in the future."
"Uh... about that... casualties..." The young man’s smile turned sowhat innocent.
"Go ahead, tell , don’t worry, I won’t bla you," Kassel said.
Isabella picked up her teacup, ready to take a sip.
"There were one hundred and seventeen operatives from your Black-clad unit who entered the town, and after the battle, only nine survived, each injured." As the young man spoke, the listener, Isabella, spurted the tea from her mouth.
anwhile, Kassel already clutched his chest, a look of pain on his face as he slid down from the chair.
```
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