Chapter 16: Settling Scores (Part 2)

Roland the Paladin Commander ran swiftly, carrying Sandru on one shoulder and dragging Emperor Griffinhart XVII behind him. The emperor was out of breath, his hair disheveled, and his royal dignity completely gone.

This area had always been remote, but recent battles against necromancers had ravaged it. The land bore the scars of devastating magic and relentless swordplay, transforming it into a desolate wasteland. Adding to the eerie desolation was the terrifying aura emitted by the massive undead golem, which had driven away all animals and birds. In this lifeless desert-like terrain, Roland pressed forward at full speed with his unusual companions.

"Could you slow down? Don't you know how to respect the elderly?" Sandru groaned from Roland's shoulder. "This whole mess—no doubt it was that little wretch Aiden mentioned! Oh, he's in trouble now. He has no idea what happens when he angers me—serious consequences, I tell you. And stop bouncing! My bones can't take it…"

Despite claiming to have over fifty or sixty broken bones, Sandru's ceaseless muttering suggested he wasn't in as bad a shape as he claimed. He hadn't been so close to death in thirty years, and it was all due to a spatial magic trap—a rare instance of space magic being weaponized.

The trap's destructive power, while limited in scope, was irresistible in its distortion. Sandru had narrowly avoided being shredded, not because of sheer luck or a defective scroll, but due to residual effects of the spack lock used earlier by the three necromancers. Space lock scrolls were rare and precious, and Sandru hadn't realized they'd been used in the battle. Aiden certainly hadn't warned him either.

Had Sandru activated his teleportation scroll mere seconds later, the distortion would have torn him apart. Instead, the trap was slightly delayed, and its destructive force, originally meant to implode inward, was dispersed outward. This annihilated the giant eagle he'd been riding but left him stunned and falling from the sky.

If not for Roland catching him, Sandru would have ended up as a splattered mess. Even so, the fall left his body riddled with broken bones despite Roland's efforts to dissipate the force with five techniques and eight arcs of sword energy. Sandru's magic reserves were completely drained, leaving him unable to heal himself. Roland, skilled in swordsmanship but devoid of magical abilities, could only watch as Sandru groaned on the ground until he managed to piece his fractured bones together with minimal magic.

"I told you to stop bouncing!" Sandru groaned again. Though his bones were mostly reattached, every bump in Roland's stride sent fresh waves of pain through his body.

Roland said nothing, maintaining his grim focus. His face was like frost as he hauled Sandru and pulled the wheezing emperor along. After hearing Sandru reveal that the cardinal was a necromancer and the mastermind behind the attack, Roland had immediately grabbed Sandru and the emperor and set off. His experience told him that the situation was dire.

The revelation had shocked both Roland and Griffinhart. The idea that a necromancer had been operating freely in the capital was alarming enough, but Griffinhart, who had personally witnessed Sandru's astounding feats in repelling three necromancers, was utterly dumbfounded.

"Master Sandru," the emperor gasped between breaths, "are you certain about this? If so, what about the empress? Is she really healed?"

Griffinhart had asked this question at least ten times, but Sandru had ignored him every time. Finally, perhaps out of irritation, Sandru responded, "Healed? Oh, she's more than healed. That little miss could probably crush you with her bare hands right now and eat you alive. Want me to tell you more?"

Roland coughed lightly, his pace faltering for a moment. Based on Sandru's earlier comments, Roland had a vague sense of what might be going on. While he didn't fully understand, he could grasp the general picture.

"That damned scoundrel!" Sandru muttered. "If not for him, do you think I'd waste my time explaining this nonsense to this brat?" He glared at Griffinhart. "Look at you, useless as can be. You probably can't even lift a heavy sword. If it weren't for Ronis propping you up and me as your reluctant ally, I'd turn you into a zombie just to keep you from dragging everyone else down with your incompetence. A man who can't protect himself and only burdens others? I thought I'd seen the worst with spineless men, but you're worse—absolutely infuriating."

Griffinhart's face turned green, and he stumbled. While he had long grown accustomed to relying on others to shoulder his responsibilities as emperor, no one had ever dared speak to him this way.

"Sandru, that's enough. Your Majesty, stop asking questions; everything will become clear in time," Roland said, sighing. He hoisted the emperor onto his other shoulder and resumed his run.

To return to the capital quickly, Sandru would need to create another flying undead golem. But without enough magic power or even corpses in the desolate area, the task was impossible. For now, Roland could only run, hoping to leave the wasteland behind as soon as possible.

The scene was almost absurd: the continent's greatest swordsman, commander of the revered Holy Knights, sprinting through a barren wasteland with a necromancer on one shoulder and an emperor on the other. It was a spectacle no one could have imagined, yet no one involved found it remotely amusing.

In the capital, at the headquarters of the Holy Knights Order, a priest from the Magic Academy reported the news of the prisoners' escape to the cardinal, who was discussing matters with Lord Rodhart.

"Someone broke into the prison?" The red-robed bishop's face immediately changed, and he quickly asked, "What about the marquis? Where is he now?"

"The marquis suddenly disappeared, and we don't know where he went. High Priest Ryan said that it seemed like one of the people involved in the prison break was a grand mage. But please don't worry, Your Eminence. He has already dispatched people to conduct a search in the capital."

"I see. You may leave now," Cardinal Jarvis said, his expression shifting between light and dark as he waved the priest away.

"A grand mage? Could it be that Theodorus, the lord of Orford, has come?" Rodhart asked.

"Impossible. Given Orford's current situation, Theodorus couldn't possibly have the time or energy to follow that man all the way here. With the teleportation arrays out of commission, it's even less likely that he could've teleported here," Jarvis immediately dismissed the possibility after giving it some thought. "Even if he truly needed to come here personally, Grutt would undoubtedly accompany him. And if Grutt were here… well, there's no way the two of us could still be standing here and talking."

"But when he approached me before, he never mentioned having such an ally. He wouldn't have concealed that information, would he? The people who ambushed you should have been all the manpower they could muster."

"A grand mage…? Could Ryan have been mistaken?" Jarvis frowned.

"Although High Priest Ryan is cautious and conservative by nature, his judgment is usually sound. If he said so, he must have had his reasons."

"There are many things he doesn't know, so making an error in judgment wouldn't be too surprising. What puzzles me is… the marquis…" When Jarvis mentioned the marquis, he hesitated as though unsure how to phrase it. "Why did he leave so suddenly without saying a word? At the very least, he should've informed me. However, this does indicate that he has noticed something, understands the situation, and knows where to flee. There are two possibilities left: first, the situation is urgent, and he didn't have time to notify me… I really hope it's not this possibility…"

"I hope not as well," Rodhart said calmly. They were currently on the same side, united by shared interests.

After a moment of silence, Jarvis continued, "The second possibility is that he's confident he can resolve the matter himself and saw no need to notify me. I'm not being blindly optimistic—I know his personality, and he wouldn't act recklessly."

"Do you think the marquis knows where they're headed?"

"Not only should he know, but we should also be able to figure it out as well. Whether he was rescued or escaped on his own, there's only one place he would go first."

"The Prime Minister's mansion," Rodhart immediately nodded. "Shall we take troops there at once?"

After a brief moment of deliberation, Jarvis shook his head and said, "If he's already rushed there, I think we don't need to. Besides, given how urgently he's headed there and the time it took for the messenger to report this, the matter may already have reached a conclusion. Even if we rush over now, it might be too late to make a difference. On top of that, if we act too overtly and alert them, it could work against us. That brat only has three people on his side, and they're all wanted fugitives operating in the shadows. They don't pose a significant threat to our current plans."

Rodhart nodded in agreement. "Indeed. Instead of wasting time on the three of them with uncertain outcomes, I think we should head to the palace as soon as possible. Even if, by some chance, the marquis fails to deal with them and the Prime Minister sides with them, as long as we handle matters in the palace, the overall situation will remain under our control."

"Well said. That's even more reason for us to act quickly." Jarvis looked at Rodhart and smiled. These words reflected his own thoughts, and his smile carried a mix of approval, the camaraderie of two sharp minds, and a hint of guardedness—like the wary mutual acknowledgment between two snakes.

However, this caution wasn't particularly strong, as intelligent people like them rarely made foolish moves. Jarvis clearly understood that as long as he remained a representative of Dehya Valley and held the identity of a delegate from Pope Celeste, his equally astute ally would never betray him. Both of them operated with the precision and regularity of accountants. Once they knew one plus one, the result was inevitably two.

Meanwhile, in Dehya Valley…

The marquis had just appeared in the teleportation array and was immediately confronted by Master Aiden and another necromancer, who were waiting outside.

"Acting Guild Leader, you're finally back. May I ask what you've been doing?" Master Aiden asked coldly.

"Apologies. I was merely handling some personal matters," the marquis replied cautiously, taken aback. Although he knew they must have suffered losses at Sandru's hands, he didn't expect them to confront him directly.

"Did you know that Nopolinot is dead? Killed by Sandru." Master Aiden's gaze and tone were as icy and cutting as the wind atop Mount Saundfest.

"What? Is that true? That's a terrible loss for Dehya Valley…" The marquis stopped in his tracks, suddenly on guard. However, he wasn't overly concerned. He believed that no matter what happened, the necromancers would never turn on each other within Dehya Valley.

Master Aiden's gaze and voice turned even colder, cutting like a knife: "You don't know? Haven't you been spying on us all along with your puppet eagle eye? It's time we settled the score for what you've done as the acting guild leader."