"Even among the Nobles, there are people like you who think this way, Rhodes. I’m helping you," Malin said.
Northism is still too weak. They’re far from enough. Malin could only console Rhodes, "Your power is insufficient. Rember, survival cos before revenge for ndel. Only living can ensure you can carry out that revenge. The Nobles don’t appear to be lying about this."
"...Yes, you’re not wrong. On this matter, both I and Cousin Sudel have said the sa thing," the young man said with a sigh.
Then, with firm resolve, he declared, "I must avenge Lord ndel, even if it costs my life!"
Malin empathetically patted the young man’s shoulder, and just then, both of them heard a gunshot.
It echoed deeply.
"Where did the shot co from?" Rhodes looked in the direction the carriage had departed.
"No idea," said the soldiers resting downstairs.
Malin leaped down from the watchtower, shouting, "Guards, move out!" in a commanding tone. "Towards the direction of the convoy!"
These assassins! These conspirators! Have they gone mad?
......
When Malin reached the convoy, chaos was already evident—the carriages had been overturned and scattered across the area. Though the situation looked dire, the carriage drivers had managed to unbuckle the harnesses connecting the horses to the carriages in the first monts of the assault. The convoy disbanding so completely could have caused casualties even without the assassins’ interference.
So they stopped the carriages, and after disembarking, the Nobles overturned the vehicles, using the sturdy carriage fras as cover. This allowed them to focus their vigilance on attacks from only one side.
Malin rushed to the rear of Old Hagelberry’s carriage and finally found the old man unhard. Relieved, Malin dropped heavily to the ground next to him. "I’m so glad you’re all right, Old Hagelberry."
Then he realized the old man hadn’t actually boarded the carriage Malin had gifted him.
"His Majesty is unhard; the assassin fired towards the center of the convoy," Old Hagelberry said, casting a glance to the front of the convoy as he shouted, "Has anyone been hit?"
What followed was an unusually fast roll call. The shell-shocked Nobles stamred as they responded, their voices trembling.
It was understandable. Mortals facing such horrors were bound to lose composure.
"Thomas isn’t responding! Thomas!" Old Hagelberry shouted anxiously.
Monts later, news ca from the forefront, "Old Hagelberry! Thomas didn’t jump out of your carriage!"
Malin placed a hand firmly on Old Hagelberry’s shoulder, signaling that he would go to check.
Lowering his head, Malin sprinted to the rear of the carriage he’d gifted to Old Hagelberry. Reaching underneath, he ripped apart the carriage undercarriage and dragged out an unfortunate half-human with a gunshot wound to the head.
Poor Thomas Six-Toes had used up all his luck this ti. The bullet had entered the right side of his skull, tearing out through his lower left jaw. Where the bullet had ultimately ended up was unclear, but from the entry and exit wounds, it was almost certainly an Armor-Piercing Bullet.
After all, if it had been a soft-point bullet, it couldn’t have penetrated the skull after traveling such a long distance.
Considering this, Malin pulled a mirror from his pocket and examined the city to their right. Few usable old buildings remained, and few were tall enough. He raised the mirror slightly, spotting a distant Bell Tower.
At least 470 yards away—though far, such a distance was feasible for any of Malin’s Sharpshooters. Hitting targets at 500 yards posed no difficulty for them.
But that didn’t an much. Sharpshooters weren’t exclusive to Malin. Any organization or assassin with natural talent, access to good weaponry, and ample training resources could produce an expert marksman.
Turning, Malin signaled tactical instructions to the Guard unit crouching behind a three-story building. The political commissar on duty and the platoon leader imdiately divided into two teams to flank the Bell Tower. While it was highly likely the perpetrator had already fled, securing the Bell Tower remained imperative.
After waiting briefly, Malin returned to Old Hagelberry’s side. "Thomas is dead," he inford bluntly.
"He’s dead... Damn assassins! That bullet was ant for !" Old Hagelberry’s face was contorted with a complicated mix of emotions.
"Why on earth did you switch carriages with Thomas?" Malin was genuinely frightened. Without a doubt, had Old Hagelberry not swapped carriages with Thomas, it would have been the old man who died.
"Thomas said he wanted to try out the fine carriage you gave , so we exchanged. Both of us used the curtains," Old Hagelberry replied gravely as he looked at his grandson-in-law.
Malin analyzed the trajectory of the wound on the half-human. "The bullet entered his right side and exited through his left jaw. If they were aiming for you, the bullet would have entered your right rib, likely hitting your arm before continuing into your chest, where it would spin violently. There’s an eight or nine chance out of ten it would have destroyed your heart. This was ant for you, old man."
Realizing this, Malin muttered the killer’s intent aloud, "The assassin killed ndel without provoking much commotion. He knew killing would be too difficult, so he was prepared to take you out instead."
All of Gobenhagen knew about the special features of the carriage Malin had gifted to Old Hagelberry. The assassins didn’t even need to identify the convoy’s formation—they simply needed to shoot at Old Hagelberry’s carriage.
As this realization hit, Malin turned his gaze towards Manheim, His Majesty, as he approached. "Your Majesty, it is too dangerous," Malin cautioned gravely.
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