Assassination

Translator: Cinder Translations

...

The militia watched the approaching figures on the merchant road. Just as he was considering whether to light the signal fire, the uninvited guests gradually came into focus.

Not an army!

Not an army; could it be a trading caravan? Who would dare brazenly cross the border at such a time?

Even smugglers should stick to lesser-known paths.

He observed closely and finally discerned the flag carried by the group.

It was the church's flag, yes, with a flame emblem embroidered in golden thread—that was the holy symbol of the Father.

The militia considered for a moment, then opened the dove cage hanging from the watchtower, pulling out a gray-and-white pigeon.

The pigeon, disturbed from its meal, reluctantly flapped its wings and wobbled into the sky, flying southward.

If it was an invasion, he would light the signal fire; if it was a diplomatic envoy, he would release the dove.

A beautifully crafted, elegantly adorned four-wheeled carriage, drawn by two magnificent horses, gradually approached the checkpoint. Surrounding the carriage were ten fully armed knights, each tall and strong, clad in ornate armor with helmets covering their faces.

The militia ran down from the watchtower and moved aside the roadblock.

The group came to a halt, and two knights rode forward to keep an eye on the militia.

"Good sirs!" the militia said respectfully as he bowed.

No matter how much dissatisfaction he felt toward the church, he thought it best to be polite in front of ten skilled knights.

"We are envoys sent by the Holy See. Have your superior come to meet us."

One knight spoke to him, and due to the helmet he wore, his voice sounded muffled.

"Sir, unfortunately, my captain has gone on patrol with others."

"The Holy See" did not catch the militia's attention; for most common folk, there was little distinction between the Holy See and the church.

"Then we shall proceed."

The knight cracked his whip, preparing to cross the checkpoint.

"Oh! No!"

The militia suppressed his inner fear and mustered his courage to speak up.

"We were instructed to have you wait here. A respected lord from the council is in the nearby town and will arrive shortly. At most…"

He held up two fingers, "You'll have to wait two hours at the most."

In truth, the militia was anxious; what if that messenger bird got distracted halfway and went elsewhere for food? It didn't seem like it had eaten enough when he released it.

The captain should have left someone behind—he grumbled to himself.

"Bold!"

Sure enough, the anticipated thunder soon fell.

The knight who had just spoken swung his whip forcefully, making the militia feel as though he would be struck at any moment.

"You lowly peasant, how dare you keep the esteemed envoy waiting in your hovel! Do you wish to taste the whip?"

Frightened, the militia immediately closed his eyes, hunched over, and tensed his muscles, bracing for the blow.

This was instinctual; most common folk would have this reaction in front of nobility.

"Stop!"

A voice from the carriage saved the militia, sparing him from a beating.

Feeling somewhat grateful, he looked toward the carriage, where the door creaked open. First, a tall young man stepped down, followed by an elderly man who was shorter than the young man.

From the young man's respectful demeanor, the elderly man must be the envoy.

The old man spoke, "I've been sitting too long. Let's rest here for a bit."

He looked kindly at the militia: "Heh, it's a bit windy outside. If you don't mind, I'd like to sit inside your house for a while."

The militia immediately replied, "Sir, of course, if you don't mind, I promise it's clean inside."

The old man told the knights, "I want to rest quietly for a bit; don't come in to disturb me. Oh, Anthony, you come in; perhaps I have some matters to discuss with you."

Then he and the young man followed the militia into the little house.

————

Anthony entered the guardhouse first. Noticing nothing unusual, he stepped aside to let Libate in.

Once Libate was settled into a chair, he said, "Sir, I'll step outside to brief our knights, so their attitude isn't too stiff when the alliance's people arrive. You know how the situation is now..."

Libate nodded, "You're right; you should remind them. Go on."

Anthony turned to the militia still standing at the door. "Go fetch a bucket of water so the envoy can wash off the dust of the journey."

The militia pointed to a wooden barrel in the corner. "Sir, there's some ready here."

Anthony straightened his face and raised his voice, "Mind your attitude, soldier! You mean to let the envoy from the Holy See use water you've already used?"

Startled, the militia jumped, "I'll go right away!"

"Hurry, and don't forget to clean the bucket."

The militia took the bucket and left, and Anthony followed him.

Libate closed his eyes, his thoughts gradually concentrating on the upcoming negotiations.

How do I persuade the Horns Bay Alliance? The alliance is the most powerful among the coastal nations; if they can drop their hostile attitude, the other nations will be no problem.

What concessions should I make? Which issues am I absolutely unwilling to back down on?

He carefully pondered the potential issues that might arise during negotiations, considering his strategy.

He was so absorbed in thought that he didn't notice someone had entered the room.

When the sensation around his neck and the subsequent feeling of suffocation hit his brain, it was already too late.

By the time Libate realized he was being attacked, a strong hand had already tightened around his throat, and another hand covered his mouth, sealing it so tightly and forcefully that no sound could escape.

His survival instinct kicked in, making him struggle, but the more he struggled, the weaker he became, as he could no longer breathe.

When he recognized the assailant's identity, he was shocked, filled with both sorrow and pity; he didn't know whether to pity himself or the other.

Just as he thought he might die from suffocation, a sharp pain struck from behind, and Libate suddenly lost all strength.

Blood flowed from the wound in his back, and his oxygen-deprived brain grew even more foggy.

"Is there another person?"

Libate thought this while still having his mouth and nose covered and throat constricted.

"Ah, forget it; let it be like this..."

This was the last thought that crossed Libate's mind before his body completely lost its vitality.

————

The church's knights were bored, standing guard outside.

After Anthony emerged, he gathered them together.

When the alliance's officials arrive, be polite! Lord Libate has great hopes for this negotiation.

This was the warning the priest gave them.

Negotiation, negotiation! What a load of nonsense!

This was the thought of many knights.

But they dared not disobey their superior's orders.

The militia returned with a bucket of water from a nearby lake and entered the small house.

They had already searched the militia, and with the priest watching over inside, the knights felt no concern.

Then a roar filled with anger and pain erupted from the little house.

"Sinner! Do you know what you are doing?"

The force of that voice even startled the birds, sending them soaring into the sky.

A single thought sprang to everyone's mind.

It's over; something big has happened.

 (End of the Chapter)

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