Chapter 137 - The last Ravnoma (2)

Westward, even further west.

A city located only in a place where an endless stretch of desert extends.

The troops departing from Gaidar's capital, Trinova, passed through the center of the west and advanced slowly northward, toward Deermar.

"Ha... hahahaha."

Among the rows of soldiers lined up in black, stood the man under the most striking banner.

Count Gaidar, whose wide-open eyes were as impressive as his well-developed upper body, was looking at the report with a helpless smile.

"So, you're saying all of this was done by one man?"

"That's correct, Count."

The reason he now smiled with empty hands.

That was because the contents written in the report he held were absurd even to himself.

"A total of 7 supply units from 4 families were attacked along the road... Goods were completely destroyed, and the troops were annihilated."

Though he read it slowly, it didn't immediately catch his attention.

It was hard to humbly accept the painful loss, but more than anything, it was something difficult to understand with common sense.

"But it only took them six days to do this."

Count Gaidar, looking over the exhaustive list, smiled despairingly and scratched his chin.

"If you follow this report, there was even a moment when I bathed twice in a day."

The inevitable anger that arises after feeling powerless.

Count Gaidar's thick brows suddenly moved wildly as he looked over the report.

"So, this is the lad? The one who took my son's sword?"

"Yes, Count."

Godin, standing beside the Count, nodded silently and spoke up.

"Vlad of Soara. He's now a knight working under the name Lady Alicia."

Vlad of Soara.

A knight from the north raised by Bayezid.

"And this is the lad Jorge raised in the alley."

"Jorge..."

And the lad who was Jorge's Dagger.

As Count Sigmund pondered over the old name, the image of a man came to mind.

Huge body, blunt character.

And the faithful dog of the former head of the family, who always eyed him warily.

"...You should have killed him when you first met."

"I'm sorry."

After hearing Godin's report, Sigmund shook his head and clicked his tongue.

That guy's footprints, whom he disliked even in death, were now sweeping over the West.

As expected, this lad named Jorge was someone whom Sigmund didn't like even after his death.

"Bayezid clenched his teeth. It seems they trained hard to prepare for this moment."

Thought Sigmund Gaidar.

Those now stirring the rear must be specially trained talented individuals by Bayezid.

Otherwise, they couldn't be racing along the roads of the west coast at such ludicrous speeds.

That's why Vlad's movements were so swift they forced Sigmund into making a wrong decision.

"It seems Count Bayezid wants to buy time."

However, Sigmund could read a bit of Peter Bayezid's intention through this series of events.

Though the looted supplies were a painful loss, they weren't just a heap of ashes.

"Increase the speed of the entire army's advance. We must reach Deirmar as quickly as possible."

As big as a bear, yet as cunning as a fox.

He was Count Sigmund Gaidar, the Usurper of the West.

"You won't be able to prolong it until winter as you intended."

The current was on Gaidar's side, but time was on Bayezid's side.

Peter Bayezid pressed Sigmund, reminding him meticulously of the basics of war through this series of events.

An attacking expeditionary force and a defensive army performing a sit-in.

It was clear that the longer the time passed, the more disadvantageous it would be for the West, so Peter must have been trying to buy time, waiting for the next winter.

"All troops, listen up! From now on, the pace will be faster!"

Sigmund decided to speed up the soldiers' advance, personally encouraging them loudly.

Once you've felt the other person's intentions, there's no reason to let yourself be carried away.

In the fierce battle to gain control of the battlefield, Count Gaidar decided not to forget his ultimate goal.

In the end, Deirmar is where the first step in this war will be taken.

"Count!"

"What's happening?"

However, the report from the scout who was now running towards him was enough to distract him from his reasoning.

"The... bridge over the river ahead of us."

A report that could be understood without having to hear the background.

Before the scout finished speaking, Sigmund hurriedly began reprimanding the soldiers who were still in front.

"It's destroyed."

"Damn northerners!"

As Godin had said, the bridge over the river was destroyed as if it had been waiting.

Anyone could see that the damaged bridge was a warning and provocation to Sigmund.

"...How many days will it take for that lad called Vlad to get here?"

"Around a week at the very least."

After hearing Godin's report, Sigmund lifted his head and looked up at the sky.

Rain clouds were gathering.

It was a sinister sign foreboding a rising tide.

"...It seems there are more than one or two spies who have infiltrated the West."

Peter wasn't a man who simply waited for the opportune moment.

Lightly and widely. And Peter's intention to shake up the West boldly was exactly right.

Plop-

A heavy rain began to fall on Gaidar's banner.

The army in the west began to slow down with the falling rain.

The rain clouds that began in the north slowly began to encircle the soldiers in the west.

It seemed the first person to take the initiative in this war wasn't Sigmund.

***

"It's raining."

"Not bad."

Men hidden on the hill.

Observing the appearance of all kinds of mixed clothing without unity, they seemed like bandits, but their refined spirit proved otherwise.

"Are they slave traders?"

"Yes, they are. After all, the slave trade has always been active in the west."

The slave traders hurriedly begin to set up their tents as the rain falls below.

Their movements were as swift as the cold raindrops falling, but the carriage they were pulling was filled with standing people, unable to do anything.

People trapped behind thick bars, facing the rain falling powerless.

They were all captured slaves.

"Aren't you going to do something to those people?"

"Did you see them setting up a tent for cows or horses just because it was raining?"

Those who are worse than cattle or horses.

Now, people who had been deprived of their human status trembled in the rain, relying on each other.

"...I can pay."

"You clearly have control over your words."

Marcus, a man covered in scars, smiled at Vlad's words and began to silently observe the slave traders.

"Probably there is the blood of the last Ravnoma."

"Are you one of the traders?"

It's like an eternal ember in a pile of ashes.

Ravnoma's influence was still alive deep in the West, and Gaidar spared no effort to find and exterminate their lineage.

Perhaps, to get here, a deception strong enough to hide the eyes of the usurpers was necessary.

"I don't know who it is, but he's surprisingly well-disguised. None of the people there seem to be from noble families."

"Of course, they aren't."

Marcus, silently indicating the crew's location with hand gestures, looked at Vlad and smiled.

"Because the last Ravnoma is acting as a slave."

"...I understand."

To survive, you have to roll even in the mud.

The last Lavroma, whose identity is unknown, currently lives behind bars, suffering humiliation.

"We're in charge of the carriage. We'll rescue the Ravnoma lineage, so all you have to do is draw attention from the traders up front."

"Can I kill them all?"

A single blue eye began to gleam in the rain.

Vlad grew up in a crime-filled alley, but slave traders were people he didn't want to associate with.

"Agreed."

"Good."

Vlad silently nodded at Marcus's permission.

A single black tear still hung from Vlad's fingertips.

In the fog-filled village, the hand that had wiped Anna's tears away silently moved toward the sword.

"Let's begin."

"Yes."

The men began to disperse following Vlad and Marcus's nods.

Barbarians and mercenaries started following Vlad, who broke away from the covert group and slowly descended the hill.

"...I told you to draw attention, not to attack head-on."

Marcus, who was sitting calmly on the hill, smiled as he saw Vlad and his companions not even attempting to hide.

They say Bayezid is the best hunter.

Indeed, it was a sure step that not even the dragon could avoid noticing.

***

Plop-

The rain falls like sharp spears.

Intense rains that are hard to come by in the north.

Vlad, who had been silently watching the rain, walked directly towards the camp in front of him with an expressionless face.

"What is this again?"

Crash!

Blood begins to spurt along with the severed neck.

The acrid smell mixing with the rain was bothering Vlad.

"Kill them quickly."

I don't much like rain.

The humid air that comes with the rain always reminds me of unpleasant smells and memories buried deep in my heart.

"I will."

"Good."

Stephan picked up a small nearby bell and began to vigorously shake it.

The ringing of a small bell that couldn't even capture the sound of the rain.

Warning sounds warning of unknown intruders began to resonate throughout the camp.

"What! What's going on!"

"Everyone, grab your weapons!"

As the bell rings, men begin to hurriedly escape from the tent.

But they never made it out of the tent.

The small tents began to shake violently due to the sudden intrusion.

The terrible screams ceased, and the only person to emerge from the silent tent was a barbarian covered in tattoos.

Drip-

"What the hell is that?"

He looked like a bandit, but the finish was very clean.

With shouts echoing throughout the camp, black crows began to descend from the hill.

"Kill them all. If possible, catch even those who flee."

With the order hinted at, Vlad, with his hood down, silently blended into the heavy rain.

Those who don't notice quietly pass by.

Those who recognized them were quickly slain.

He walked slowly like this and finally arrived in front of the largest tent.

Tense but calm breaths can be heard from both sides of the tent entrance.

"That's clumsy."

Swish-

"Aghhh"

Vlad's sword made a long cut through the tent, making the tense wait in vain.

Blood stains splattered so violently that they hit the tent so hard they could be felt even from the outside.

"Is there an owner?"

Now it's a silent tent where not even the sound of breathing can be heard.

Upon entering, the loud sound of the rain calmed down a bit.

Vlad calmly shook the raindrops from his cloak and entered the tent, passing by the corpses that had been cut in half at the waist.

"I just wanted to ask you something."

Vlad's blood-streaked footprints slowly began to line up on the floor.

"I was wondering if there was a suspicious person among the slaves I recently bought..."

Another space foreseen inside the tent.

Vlad entered, lifted the billowing fabric, and there he found a completely unexpected sight.

"This."

A middle-aged man lay dead on a bed with his eyes wide open.

The acrid smell of blood that spread along with the humid air pierced my nose strongly.

There were two pairs of eyes looking at him next to the corpses lying so miserably.

"I'm going out."

The dimly burning lamp light is dim.

A woman and a child looked into each other's eyes in a narrow, dark space.

"I told you to get out of here. Before I kill you too."

It is lamentable the nudity of the woman shielding her child with frightened eyes.

And the child trembling in her arms, holding the blood-stained dagger.

Vlad, caught by an inexplicable sense of déjà vu as he watched them, stopped stunned.

"..."

In the arms of a woman weary of being tormented by men, a young man held a blood-stained dagger.

They were protecting each other, but their feeble struggle reminded Vlad of a memory buried deep within him.

"Did you... kill him?"

"I told you not to come!"

The smell of blood filled the air under the faint light.

Long ago, there was a mother trembling as she hugged her son in a small room full of acrid odor.

Like the woman she is now.

"So?"

Vlad silently lowered his head as he listened to the faint sound of rain coming from outside.

In a cramped room, bright red blood flows across the floor.

It probably rained that day too, just like today.

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