“Hahahahah!”
“……”
“Isaac, I’m boooored.”
The road to the Mage Tower was excruciatingly dull. At first Sharen had felt relief—finally, the big incident was over—but that tension lted into boredom almost instantly.
It had been only three days since they set out, and Sharen was already whining. She swung her legs back and forth, demanding sothing interesting from the man seated across from her.
“I’m not a clown,” Isaac replied, eyes still on the scenery outside the window. Sharen stuck out her lip and tapped his shin with the tip of her boot.
“I’m bored. Maybe I shouldn’t have tagged along. I could be back at the Tower eating snacks.”
“Have you forgotten your sister was nearly killed?” Isaac said.
“But she’s fine now! That’s what matters!” Sharen chirped.
The Grandmaster gave a short laugh; since the subject had co up anyway, Isaac pressed on.
“Master, could you please stop shaking your leg? It’s getting on my nerves.”
“Ah, my apologies. Ever since I quit smoking at the start of the year, I’ve been terribly jittery,” the Grandmaster answered.
Indeed, she had suddenly announced she was quitting. No one knew why—only that she was determined.
“I’m anxious… Would you at least hold my hand?”
She extended her hand. Isaac stared, incredulous.
“So you swore off cigarettes just so you could do this?”
“Well, that may have been part of it. As excuses go, it’s surprisingly healthy, wouldn’t you say?”
The Grandmaster didn’t wait for an answer. She simply seized Isaac’s hand and tugged him closer, parking him between herself and Sharen.
His eyes t Rihanna’s wide, unblinking stare.
While Rihanna looked on, baffled, the Grandmaster squeezed Isaac’s hand.
“Stay here. Your poor teacher is a bundle of nerves and needs a little peace.”
“And how exactly does holding a disciple’s hand bring you peace of mind?”
“Good question. I’ll think of a reason while I’m at it.”
“……”
When did she get so shaless? Isaac wondered. The Grandmaster only turned to the window with a sly grin.
Thud!
“Nap ti!” Sharen announced, dropping her head onto Isaac’s thigh. Grinning up at him, she rubbed her cheek against his leg like a cat.
“Isaac, wake when it’s lunch, okay?”
“…Haah, fine.”
He was too tired to protest. She really was just a kid at heart. Resigned, he looked forward.
Rihanna was still staring, her tongue wriggling behind the gag as if she had plenty to say.
‘…Better pretend I don’t see her.’
He couldn’t take the muzzle off—do that, and another scene would explode.
“Sir, there’s soone ahead,” the coachman called, anxiety edging his voice as the carriage slowed. Isaac rose.
“Huh?!”
Sharen slid off the bench and hit the floor with a shriek.
“What are you doing?!”
“Helmut can take it,” Isaac said.
“That’s not the point—ah! Unnie, don’t step on !”
Seeing an opening, Rihanna calmly planted a foot on the fallen Sharen and stared into empty space, as if sothing fascinating were there.
‘What is she looking at?’
Nothing lay in that direction, yet her vacant gaze stayed fixed.
“It huuurts! Isaac! Because of that stupid Vassalization, Unnie is trying to assassinate ee!” Sharen wailed.
Isaac ignored the chaos and stepped outside alone.
In the middle of the dusty road stood a small group wearing pleasant smiles. Beside them waited another carriage, its banners and garb unmistakably noble.
“Ah! Baron Logan!”
‘So they know who we are.’
So they’d been waiting for them on purpose. Isaac quietly slid a saber into his belt and stepped forward.
“Who are you?”
“Haha! I am Viscount Hellerwain, lord of the nearby domain. Great people such as yourselves must need assistance, so I hurried out to et you.”
Isaac glanced at the coachman, who nodded—Hellerwain land did lie close by.
“You must be hungry on the road, and travel is tiring besides.”
“Your thoughtfulness is appreciated.”
Indeed, the viscount’s carriage and bundles exuded the rich sll of food, and fluffy blankets were neatly stacked.
“However, we can’t accept so many gifts.”
“Oh, but of course! Take only what you need. I’ve even prepared so expense money.”
Viscount Hellerwain leaned in, whispering conspiratorially.
What erged from his coat, however, was not a purse—but a dagger.
Rustle!
In an instant blood sprayed, and a scream tore the air.
“Graaah!”
Though the viscount had struck first, his own wrist hit the dirt, severed.
“No human draws faster than I do,” Isaac murmured, sword poised, looking down at the viscount.
On this point he was unshakably sure: when it ca to the act of unsheathing, no one could follow Isaac.
“Kh… khrrgh!”
Behind the writhing Viscount Hellerwain, his attendants froze—clearly unaware an assassination was planned.
“Huh? What happened?”
“Why does it sll like blood…?”
Sharen and the Grandmaster stepped out, confusion on their faces, but Isaac was already pressing his blade to the viscount’s throat.
“Sponsors, are you?”
Sponsors—a cabal of nobles who sold out humankind and sided with the Transcendents.
In Isaac’s previous life their treachery had plunged the kingdom into chaos, and in the end they survived only as human slaves beneath the Transcendents.
“Did they order you to ambush the carriage, thinking we’d have few guards?”
But this life was different. Starting with the attempt on Princess Adeline, through the rcenary band and Baron Bolten, events had led to a wholesale purge of the Sponsors.
Even after the two princesses had hunted traitors so ruthlessly the nobility trembled…
“So a few rats were still hiding.”
Clutching his severed arm, Viscount Hellerwain crouched, jaw locked, choosing silence over confession.
“You should’ve shown that loyalty to the kingdom instead.”
“……”
“Silence is an answer, too. You’d have done better begging for your life to buy a little ti.”
Only three days out, and already an attack—proof the Transcendents knew exactly where the carriage traveled.
“Wa-wai—”
The viscount never finished. Isaac’s sword took his head. Calmly wiping the blade with a cloth, he addressed the attendants.
“Who’s the senior steward? Go to Everguard and report to Her Highness: the viscount was a traitor to humanity and was executed by Baron Logan. You shouldn’t be dragged into it.”
“Y-yes, sir! Th-thank you for sparing us!”
The head steward hurried forward, dropped to his knees, and bowed his head. The rest followed, prostrating themselves before Isaac.
But Isaac was already striding back to his own carriage.
“Let’s leave at once. Looks like our trip to the Tower won’t be so peaceful after all.”
“A-as you wish! Hyah!”
The coachman cracked the reins, and Isaac climbed inside.
****
“What happened?”
Three pairs of eyes locked on him at once. Isaac explained crisply:
“The Transcendents are after Rihanna. Hellic lost an arm for that—there’s no way they’ll walk away empty-handed now.”
“Hm.”
“So they can track us. At least the journey won’t be dull.”
Isaac smoothed his clothes and sat. The carriage lurched forward, now moving much faster.
“Ah, a scratch.”
A thin line marred the back of Isaac’s hand—he must have caught the viscount’s dagger when their blades clashed at close range.
“Give your hand; I’ll bind it.”
Without warning, the Grandmaster reached straight down the front of her robe. What she produced was a roll of bandage—still warm from wherever it had been “stored.” Isaac couldn’t help thinking her chest looked a touch fuller.
“…You’re going to use that?”
“Hmm? Is there so other bandage?”
“I have a handkerchief.”
“Tsk. A handkerchief is for a lady. How vulgar for a man to wrap a wound in his own kerchief.”
‘Is that how it works?’ Isaac wondered.
Sharen, watching, pinched the loose end of the bandage and gave it a curious sniff—only to earn a sharp flick on the forehead from the Grandmaster.
“Ow!”
“A teacher may give everything for her pupil,” the Grandmaster declared grandly.
‘A bit much.’ Isaac thought, but he extended his hand all the sa—
Shatterrr!
Sothing shattered beside him.
“……”
Rihanna’s gag lay on the floor in pieces—she had bitten clean through it.
Isaac suddenly recalled sothing Sharen once said:
“Helmut even has teeth like iron.”
Turns out, she wasn’t exaggerating.
---The End Of The Chapter---
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