episode_0136

In the North Kingdom of Herbor, which is mostly composed of snowy mountains, there was a city named Ahillant.

A city built in a flatland area boasting a slightly milder climate in Herbor, where concepts like spring, summer, and autumn did not exist.

A river that never froze all year round. Dense deciduous forests. Hot springs flowing when the ground was dug. It was truly an area that could be considered blessed.

Naturally, many people gathered there, and Ahillant gradually grew into a metropolis that could be counted among the top cities in Herbor.

It wasn’t to the extent of the capital Bern, but still significant enough to fit within your grasp.

With such a large city, the number of residents was incomparable to other cities, and the constant flow of merchants and travelers was countless.

Could it be described as a city drawn in a painting?

However, just as shadows deepen with strong light, a bustling metropolis filled with crowds did not only carry positive implications.

The fact that entry and exit were active meant it was difficult to filter out dangerous elements among the visitors, and having a large population meant that the number of villains would inevitably increase accordingly.

The public safety in Ahillant was not particularly good.

While the commercial and residential districts where most of the crowd gathered were relatively safe, the narrow alleys inside were overtaken by slums and dens of criminals to the extent that they openly established their criminal lairs.

An area where outsiders, unaware, might find themselves waking up the next day in a prison or slave market if they set foot without caution.

In one corner of such an alley, there was a tavern named “Clawfoot.”

A small tavern frequented by rowdy ruffians, lower-ranking members of violent organizations, and even beggars who couldn’t quit drinking.

– Keek.

With a creaking sound of a rusty hinge, the wooden door, marked with knife cuts and bloodstains, slowly creaked open, welcoming a new visitor.

“Huh…? What’s that over there?”

A drunkard who had been sleeping on the table sat up groggily, looking at the two visitors entering through the door.

A black-haired girl with a thick bear fur cloak turned inside out, and the figure accompanying her in armor… in armor…?

…

“Who’s this little kid? Fearless. Where does she think she’s walking into alone?”

The drunkard chuckled nervously, shaking his head. A small stature that seemed barely twenty, with a handsome face peeking out from under the hood. Clearly, she was a girl who didn’t fit in with this kind of back-alley tavern.

Seeing such a girl arriving here without a guardian, it was evident that she was a naive traveler who had never heard of the infamous reputation of the alleys in Ahillant.

If left alone, there was a high chance she might be found in a peculiar taste brothel by tomorrow evening.

Of course, whether the dreamy traveler turned into a prostitute or not was none of his concern.

Instead of needlessly meddling and warning the girl about the danger here, the drunkard chuckled, feeling as though he had gained another piece of the puzzle of life, and poured himself a drink from the bottle on the table.

“It serves her right. Coming alone to a place like this, no matter what happens…”

“Here, let’s order something.”

“…No matter what happens, it’s their own responsibility, right? One of them will meet their end today.”

Unaware of how his perception of reality was twisting and distorting.

=====[ Hilde ]=====

Pff, the smell is really something.

As soon as I opened the door, I felt the foul stench unique to the shabby tavern, barely managing to suppress the urge to cover my nose.

The sour smell of stale vomit on the floor, the stench of unwashed beggars, and the pungent aroma of strong alcohol, all mingling together.

Having grown somewhat accustomed to the stench through their life as an adventurer in another world, it was fortunate that they did not immediately vomit upon taking a breath; otherwise, they would have likely attracted the attention of those around them.

Well, given that the only people spending their entire lives drinking away in back alley bars during broad daylight were just alcoholics wasting their lives away, even if they were to attract attention, it wouldn’t be much of a problem.

Just by glancing around the bar, there was only one decrepit person chuckling to themselves and the bar owner who seemed awake; apart from them, about three or four men were either passed out or pretending to be asleep, showing no interest in new customers coming in or leaving.

Alright, doesn’t seem to be any danger here.

Letting out a sigh of relief, I walked up to the counter of the bar and sat down on the chair, revealing my purpose to the bar owner.

“Here, let’s place an order.”

“…Ah, yes. What can I get you, sir?”

The bar owner, who had been looking at me with a puzzled expression, finally seemed to recognize me and naturally began to speak, lowering his gaze.

Quite efficient service.

Until I spoke, he didn’t even seem to acknowledge my presence, and even after recognizing me, he treated me like any other customer, not even sparing a glance at the exposed chest armor.

It was as if he couldn’t even fathom the concept of ‘a knight with lemon-colored hair wearing armor.’

Indeed, it was a wise decision to dig deep into the bottom of the Line River to secure the helmet, even if it meant going through some hardship.

Assassins or thieves would have been envious if they had seen it, probably going crazy, eyes rolling back in their heads and drooling uncontrollably.

“Sir?”

“Ah, yes. So…”

At the urging of the bar owner, I hesitated for a moment, recalling the lines from the original work.

“A bottle of Sparty Breniven. Three pieces of unsalted Hawkarl. Two plates of smoked lamb.”

Then, placing three silver coins on the counter, I recited the lines from memory.

“Hmm…”

The bar owner squinted at me, observing me intently. His expression was openly suspicious. Yet, he was still handling the silver coins with his hand.

“You’re making quite a unique order. ‘Unsalted’ Hawkarl…”

“I don’t like salted food.”

It was indeed a peculiar order.

Hawkarl was originally dried and fermented shark meat.

Asking for unsalted Hawkarl was akin to requesting for French fries not fried in oil, so to speak.

“Well… we don’t have that dish, but we do have ingredients that can produce a similar taste… I’m not sure if it will suit your palate. Would you like to give it a try?”

The bar owner awkwardly smiled, hinting at his embarrassment, pointing towards the warehouse behind the counter.

I nodded. The response I wanted had come back to me.

“Sure. Will it be okay if my companions join us?”

“Of course.”

The bar owner casually opened the door to the warehouse, indicating that it was fine.

With Priddy, who was scanning the surroundings vigilantly, and the bar owner, I followed him into the warehouse.

Passing through the first-floor warehouse filled with bottles and food sacks, opening the secret door installed on the floor, descending the stairs, until we reached the underground meeting place.

Finally, standing in front of the metal door of the secret room.

“Welcome. Guest. Let me greet you once again.”

The bar owner turned towards us, revealing the demeanor he had hidden.

No, he was no longer just a regular bar owner.

“Welcome. Under the shadow of our Black Eagle. It has been a long time since a customer found this place.”

A well-trained physique without an ounce of fat hidden under loose cloth.

The faint scent of blood, concealed by the smell of alcohol but not completely erased.

And even a profession that reflexively scans our vital points, pondering ways to kill in a single blow, with a pathological glint in their eyes.

Before us stood an assassin perfected through thorough training.

A member of the information organization and assassination guild that rules the underworld of the Herbor Kingdom, part of the Shadow of the Raven Guild.

“Thank you for your hospitality.”

I replied with a smirk. It was a smile soaked in satisfaction that my knowledge perfectly aligned.

“Shall we go in now?”

“Of course.”

Nodding slightly, the assassin knocked on the iron door of the reception room, then opened it and ushered us inside.

◆◆

Inside the iron door was dark.

In the dimly lit room with no way out, there was only one desk with candles, two chairs, and a wardrobe-like storage attached to the wall.

It felt like the interior of an old cathedral’s confessional, minus the cross decorations.

Clearly a filthy, gloomy space.

Only someone thoroughly deranged, obsessively thinking about ways to kill people 24/7, would use such a space as their study.

“Ah, guests?”

Just these kinds of people, really.

The man, wearing all black with a mask resembling a raven’s face, looked up from writing documents and gazed at us.

Undoubtedly a madman. What could one see wearing such a mask in such a dark place? The concept was excessive to say the least.

“Please, have a seat.”

“Thank you.”

I sat as instructed, leaving Freide standing since there was only one chair available.

“Why have you come to our guild? To buy or sell information, perhaps…?”

“It’s neither of those.”

“Hmm… Then is it about ‘that’ matter? Quite unexpected. You don’t seem related to that affair.”

His voice lowered slightly.

The fact that the Information Guild “Shadow of the Raven” also conducts assassinations is top secret. The guest who knew this was truly a rare occurrence.

“It’s not about that either.”

Of course, I hadn’t come all this way personally for an assassination request.

“Yes…?”

He asked, tilting his head. It seemed he was wondering why we had come if not to buy or sell information or request an assassination.

I swallowed nervously. Saying the wrong thing here could make us targets for all the assassins in the Ahillant branch immediately.

“I have a message for the Master. I could deliver it in writing, but it seems safer to discuss it in person.”

“Our guild leader isn’t someone you can just meet casually.”

He replied coldly, his answer dripping with suspicion.

“…!”

Freide, sensing his demeanor, almost drew his sword in response, but managed to restrain himself as I sat still.

…Phew. That was a close call for murder.

I breathed a sigh of relief inwardly. It was fortunate that I had informed Freide of the true nature of this place beforehand; otherwise, the tavern might have turned into a sea of blood.

“I am well aware that he is not easily accessible.”

It was indeed difficult to meet him. In fact, considering the identity of the guild master, meeting him at all was nearly miraculous.

“However….”

I hesitated for a moment, then smiled sincerely towards the man and said:

“Umbra est una cum omnibus quae sub sole sunt.”

The shadow is one with all things under the sun.

The unnecessarily stylish Amguoer mentioned in the original novel.

“…Nemo parvas tenebras effugere potest.”

No one can escape that small darkness.

It was a truly unexpected remark, as a man who shrugged for a moment responded in a nonchalant tone.

“How did you know that word… Could it be, are you from ‘above’?”

A more polite tone. It seemed like he might be mistaking me for a senior officer of the organization.

In theory, only they knew the secret phrase I had whispered.

“I don’t know about that. So, I think I need to meet the ‘Master.’ Can you pass along the message?”

I brushed off his question with an ambiguous tone, smiling like a woman with secrets too delicate to share with others, and reiterated my business.

“So… There is someone who wants to meet ‘Lucky’ regarding matters related to the ‘first’ identity… You can relay it like that. Please take care of it.”

This was a phrase not found in the original work. Of course not. It was the message I had just thought of.

A secret message to be delivered to the Guild Master of the Shadow of the Black Eagle.

‘I know your true identity. ‘Lucky’ Argantir. If you’re curious, come and find out more about your brother, Heid’s identity.’

That was the message containing such meaning.

Yes.

Argantir, the second prince of Herbor, known to the public as a gentle and virtuous man lucky enough to inherit the throne.

His true identity was the leader of the information and assassination guild ‘Shadow of the Black Eagle,’ which controlled the underworld of the entire Herbor region.

He may have a taste for naming and cryptic language that is disgustingly old-fashioned.

He founded this organization when he was just fifteen years old, perhaps considering it a stylish expression in his own way.