CHAPTER 109

At the end of a harsh winter.

Josef turned his chair towards the window as usual and gazed outside.

Outside the gates of Shoara, priests of the church had gathered, waiting for someone.

"Do you recognize him?"

Zayar noticed Josef's gaze fixed on the window and realized something was amiss.

His eyes were tense, as if he was watching an approaching typhoon.

"He's said to be the son of Duke Dragulia. They say he's the half-brother of Mirshea, the commander of the Dragon Slayer Knights."

As Zayar finished his report, the movements of the priests outside became more frantic.

A thick line, like the stroke of a dragon's neck.

Knights were entering Shoara under the flag representing the Dragon Slayer Knights.

"His name is Ladhu. Despite his young age, he's already a knight with a record of slaying dragons several times."

While Josef's ears were focused on Zayar, his eyes remained fixed on the gate.

There are three knights entering under the flag.

But even among them, the man leading the way was barely visible.

Even from a distance, there was an air of dignity about him.

"The son of the Dragonblood Duke, Ladhu Dragulia..."

Although the Bayezid family was also renowned for producing excellent knights, they were not as famous as the Dragulia family of the central region.

Because they were a family that inherited the blood of the dragon, not just a vain tradition, but recorded in actual history books.

And now, with Bishop Pierre's cordial invitation, a knight of dragon's blood was entering Shoara.

"And here."

This time, Zayar handed Josef a small note instead of speaking.

"The eyes of the Bayezid family have detected suspicious movements in various parts of the North."

As Josef carefully unfolded the note given by Zayar, he began to read the contents written inside.

"Hmm."

An involuntary sigh, impossible to suppress.

Though it was just a brief note, Josef's brows narrowed as he read through it.

The note he held was both an explanation of the situation and a warning quietly given by his father, Peter.

"...It seems I may have been mistaken after all."

"What do you mean?"

With those words, Josef stood up from his seat and approached the window even closer.

Having never wielded a sword, he had honed sharp eyes and deep thoughts instead.

However, no matter how intensely he trained, it seems that it was still not enough for the Heretic Inquisitor who had lived his entire life in the battlefield of logic.

"Bishop Pierre's target wasn't Vlad."

Certainly, Josef and Bishop Pierre were fighting for control over Shoara.

But Shoara's power, which had been his purpose and goal for Josef, was merely a means that Bishop Pierre could discard at any time.

Bishop Pierre was gazing beyond Josef.

The northern churches belonging to the Vatican were moving.

The one who raised the flag first was Bishop Pierre of Shoara, and the gathering place for the soldiers of the church was one of the territories that had long been established in the north.

The city of Baron Utman, Mosiam.

※※※※

The blessing of the glowing moles was truly powerful.

As Vlad and Gott emerged from the forests of Dobrechti, they had not once been attacked by monsters or animals, and even their footsteps were light.

The smoothly progressing journey, unexpectedly faster than expected, led them to emerge from the forests of Dobrechti too quickly, and that was the beginning of the problem.

"Geez. Take your time. No one's going to snatch it away."

A bonfire burning under a tree dyed white by snow.

There were two men hungrily eating soup under the warm heat and billowing smoke.

The man watching them from nearby wore a somewhat concerned expression as he spoke to Vlad and Gott.

Despite having the warm stew in their mouths, the still pale lips of the two showed how much they had been struggling until now.

"Thank you. If it weren't for you, things could have been really bad."

One should express gratitude to those who share food.

Vlad, who had been a young hunter before becoming a pickpocket, appreciated the warmth of a bowl of stew, so he sincerely expressed his gratitude to the mercenaries who had saved him.

"Oh..."

"...This is going to be quite an experience."

However, the mercenaries who heard Vlad's thanks merely widened their eyes in surprise.

Sensing the sudden awkwardness, Vlad began to quickly scan his surroundings, wondering if he had made a mistake.

The social skills he had learned in the back alleys came naturally, like breathing.

"Sir, you're not from the central regions, are you?"

However, the man introduced as the leader of the mercenaries just smiled and handed Vlad some jerky.

It seemed he rather liked the sight of Vlad expressing his gratitude.

"No, I'm not from the central regions. I'm from the north."

"Oh. I see."

Vlad, who had finally come to his senses after escaping from cold and hunger, continued speaking as he looked at the mercenaries who were looking at him curiously.

"Did I make a mistake just now?"

"No, no, sir. Haha!"

The curly-haired man laughed heartily at Vlad's question and served him another bowl of stew.

"It's the first time lowly folks like us have heard words of thanks from someone like you, sir."

Vlad felt a subtle sense of awkwardness as he looked at the mercenaries who called themselves lowlifes.

It was Vlad who had come from the bottom, not the mercenaries, but his appearance in this new land made him seem like just another young knight.

'I must have been too polite.'

It seemed that the hierarchy between the central and northern regions was even more stringent than in the north.

Given the differences between regions, Vlad thought he should pay attention to such things in the future.

"By the way, sir, where are you going?"

"We were on our way to Tanoboya. It's a city of Count Betskaya."

With that remark, Vlad lifted his head and stared directly at the curly-haired man.

The mercenary leader, holding the soup bowl, stopped laughing as he looked at Vlad.

Though unspoken, the intention in his eyes was too obvious.

"What a coincidence. We were just on our way to Tanoboya as well."

"Oh."

Before Vlad could reply, Gott let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank goodness, Captain. We'll be able to reach Tanoboya just by following these people."

"Shut up."

Vlad could not hold back the anger boiling inside him and finally let out a single word.

Before they left, he was the guy who beat his chest and said he only believed in himself.

But in the end, he had formed this group, so Vlad could only blame himself for trusting the swindler.

"I'm Vlad from Shoara. No, just Vlad."

"I'm Stefan from the Thornwood Mercenaries. Sir."

Vlad suppressed his boiling anger and shook hands with the mercenary leader with a smile on his face.

As their hands clasped, their eyes met.

Vlad thought Stefan's blue eyes matched well with his curly orange hair.

※※※※

A city in the central region that Vlad saw for the first time.

Unlike the remote areas like Dobrechti, Tanoboya, a proper city, broadened Vlad's horizons just by its appearance.

"It's my first time seeing a city in the central region."

"Then this place shouldn't be too bad."

From experience, he knew that if he looked like a country bumpkin, he would be an easy target for crime, but still, the atmosphere of the city he was seeing for the first time excited Vlad again.

"It's one of the trade hubs with the elves to the east. So, it's a place where merchants and mercenaries often come."

Stefan was showing the utmost sincerity he could muster for the knight who seemed inexperienced.

No matter how young he seemed, a knight was still a knight.

If they can establish a relationship with a knight with just a few bowls of soup and a few kind words, it will definitely be a profitable business.

"How should I recommend an inn for you? I know of some decent places," Stefan offered.

"Hmm. I'd prefer just a recommendation for an inn. I'm planning to meet the lord of this place first," Vlad replied.

"Oh, I see."

Observing Vlad confidently declaring his intention to meet Count Bitskaya, Stefan nodded with a gleam in his eyes.

Not all knights were worth their salt, despite their airs of superiority. 

Among those who strutted around like knights, there were some even dirtier than mercenaries like themselves. However, the young knight before him didn't seem like one of them, and now he was boldly stating his intention to meet the count. Stefan couldn't help but feel impressed.

"If you need any help, feel free to come to us anytime. We'll be staying at the inn at the corner for a few days," Stefan offered.

"Thank you, I'll keep that in mind," Vlad replied, though somewhat dismissively.

Though Vlad's abrupt demeanor could have been off-putting, Stefan didn't seem to mind. He just nodded as if understanding that was just how Vlad was.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, Sir."

It was surprisingly difficult to treat someone older than you.

But Vlad had to get used to this by now.

With no one like Josef or senior knights to constantly validate him, Vlad had to reveal himself.

"You'll find the count's mansion by looking for the largest building in this city," Stefan informed before departing with a smile, indicating he understood Vlad's struggle.

As Stefan's group of mercenaries followed him, they respectfully bowed their heads to Vlad and disappeared into the streets.

"I should treat them to a drink someday," Vlad thought to himself.

If you receive something, you should give something back. 

If it weren't for Stefan, he might still be wandering lost in the cold winter forest. So, at least a token of gratitude was appropriate.

"It'd be best to buy them some expensive drinks, Captain," Gott suggested, sending Vlad a meaningful glance.

"Why?"

"Seems like they're a well-known mercenary group. Judging by their gear and how easily they passed the gate inspection earlier, they're probably a reputable group," Gott explained.

"Is that so?" Vlad's eyes, watching Stefan leave, also began to gleam.

The desire to gain something from each other was not exclusive to Stefan alone.

※※※※

The mansions in the north were practical in nature.

Facilities with clear purposes and tall walls.

In a way, it was a characteristic of the northern mansions that they were so bleak that they could be called small castles, but the style in the central region was different.

"What brings you here?" 

Pure white exterior walls surrounding the mansion.

And the carvings carved between the walls were enough to leave Vlad speechless for a moment.

"I am a knight of the Bayezid family. Vlad. I have a special request for the lord of this place," Vlad eventually managed to reply.

"What matter shall I convey?" responded the butler, undeterred by the newcomer's momentarily baffled demeanor.

"I have an urgent matter to convey to my lord, so I would like to borrow the mage for a message. Please convey to Count Bitskaya my hope for his noble assistance to a knight in distress," Vlad requested.

It was a quick visit without an appointment, but Vlad thinks they can lend him the mage for a message.

A ruler of a territory would not miss the chance to preserve his dignity with a small favor.

"Captain, shall we postpone the inn for now? Perhaps we'll receive an invitation," suggested Gott discreetly.

"Sure," Vlad nodded quietly in response to Gott's question from behind.

In the north, guests were highly esteemed. If there was a similar custom here, perhaps they could secure something for the evening.

However, ten minutes passed, then an hour passed.

Even as darkness settled around them, there was no call for Vlad.

"..."

Josef's decision to dismiss Vlad might have been partly to protect him from any potential traps by the Vatican, but it also carried the intention of encouraging him to see more of the world.

In that sense, Josef's intentions were clearly succeeding now.

"When can we expect an answer?"

"I do not know."

"I just wish I could at least hear whether it's possible or not."

"You'll have to wait."

Cold dismissal.

Even a low sneer can be heard from time to time.

Vlad didn't feel anger at the coldness he hadn't experienced in a long time.

It was a familiar experience, one he could easily endure and overlook.

But he couldn't help but wonder why he was receiving such treatment when he had clearly proven his status.

"How long?"

"..."

The center of the continent is in the central region, and the lords of the central region believed they were at the center of the world.

They believed they possessed a nobility that could not be compared to the westerners who ate dry dirt or the northerners who had the blood of barbarians mixed in.

"You'll have to wait until the Count calls for you."

"..."

The frog in the well had seen the world.

However, the world that he thought would be wide was only full of other walls.

The center of the world was discriminating against the northerners.

There was nothing Vlad could do but stand quietly in front of the tightly closed door of the Count.