“Ah, I see. So that’s the old castle.”
The five members of the Dawn Roar advanced through the wilderness with their horses in a line and halted at a spot from where they could see the castle. The wind from the ocean blew against them and stirred up Slader’s long hair.
“It’s pretty run-down, huh. But from what I’ve heard, there’s been a noble family living over there for many years.”
Jillian narrowed her eyes at the armored knight Hugo’s words. “Rather than saying they live there, isn’t it that half of them are imprisoned?”
“I heard that the family has some royal blood.” Slader sighed. “The story goes that since he was a child, the nobleman there was self-indulgent, pleasure-loving, and fond of seeing blood. His parents and siblings abandoned him and his relatives didn’t know what to do with him either, so ultimately, he was placed in there. The king always heard the rumors and seemed to be troubled by them, but it’s difficult to deal with him because of his partial lineage.”
“I don’t care about that, so let’s hurry up and get this over with. Anyway, they’re probably just a bunch of deviant punks. Just like those Lucky Moon guys.” Simon unsheathed his longsword and swung it easily. In the distance, bushes were mowed down by some invisible force, and a rabbit hiding underneath them darted away, startled.
“It seems like someone came to greet us while you were talking.” Slader dismounted slowly.
Just as he said, they could see five horses heading their way along the road leading to the castle. And behind those they could see about a dozen marching figures. It was clear from one look that they were a group of bandits and thieves: Each one of them wielded a different set of armor and weapons.
“Hey hey, who the hell are you bastards?” bellowed a large man with a scar on his face. Brandishing a grim sickle, he had run out ahead of the others and approached them. Judging from his red face and blond hair, he might have been related to the savage northern tribes.
“Oh, not this type of act.” Slader grimaced under his mask. “He seems to be lacking in intelligence.”
“Not your type then?” Weinheidt laughed, and Jillian shrugged her shoulders atop her horse.
“Captain Slader likes the strong and gentle type. But as far as looks go, he has wide tastes, so he just appears to be fickle.”
“Fickle, that’s a bit harsh.” Though he said so, Slader didn’t seem particularly angry.
The large man brandished his sickle. “What the hell are you guys talking about so calmly over there! Idiots!”
“Well, I wouldn’t say we’re idiots. But we are here because we have business with the lord of the castle, so would you kindly take us to him?”
“Gahahaha,” the man guffawed. His companions on the horses behind him, and the men on foot who had finally caught up, also vulgarly opened their mouths and roared with laughter.
“You bunch of has-been knights? If you want to see Lord Irving, you have to get past us fir—”
The man didn’t finish what he was saying.
There was a flash of light, and in the next instant, a splash of blood.
All at once, the head of not just the man at the front, but of all five of the mounted men, flew off with a foolish popping noise and fell down onto the rocks.
“You understand now, right? Was that enough?” Simon grinned broadly.
The horses were left uninjured, but, spooked by the sudden change, scattered away, still carrying the bodies spurting blood like water fountains.
The men on foot stood staring, flabbergasted, but they finally seemed to understand their situation. About half of them hastily ran off, but the remaining half lost their temper and raised their weapons.
“For crying out loud…Simon, you’re too quick-tempered.” Slader released the reins of his horse. “Go. Eat some grass or something over there.”
The other four knights also alighted from their steeds. Their five horses formed an ordered line and ran back down along the way they had come.
“I hadn’t planned on stirring up trouble from the get-go, but…oh well.” Slader already grasped a greatsword with a saw-like blade. “Let’s settle this quickly.”
“Understood.”
The five bodies of Dawn Roar—an order of assassin knights under direct royal command—began to shine with magic.