"P-please, spare us!"
On the road to the western territories, a small merchant group knelt on the ground, pleading for their lives.
Their assailants were bandits.
Despite hearing of unrest in the region, the merchant leader had recklessly decided to proceed with the trade route. Now, he knelt before them, his face pale with fear.
This region was once under the influence of the great Marquis Rodrick but was now ruled by Fenris, the most powerful Count of the North.
Given the strategic importance of this area for trade, nearby lords ensured that banditry was kept in check. Bandits typically roamed only within minor fiefs.
The merchant leader hadn't expected this. Never had he imagined his guards would be wiped out so easily.
One of the bandits approached their leader, bowing slightly.
"There's no one else nearby. It seems no troops have moved yet."
"Good. Finish up here, and let's move. Make sure we're on the run and keep them chasing us as long as possible."
"Understood."
The merchant leader, trembling, cast a wary eye toward them, suspicion growing in his mind.
"What kind of bandits are these?"
He had encountered his fair share of bandits over the years, but these were unlike any he had seen.
Their clothing resembled the typical garb of criminals, but their demeanor and actions lacked the crude vulgarity and cowardice one would expect. Instead, they moved with military precision.
They spoke only when necessary. Their movements were disciplined, and they naturally fell into formation as they moved.
"Are they deserters?"
There had been rumors of deserters from the western front turning to banditry after Rodrick's defeat.
"But weren't they supposed to have surrendered after Fenris took control?"
Moreover, these men didn't seem like fugitives on the run.
The bandit leader issued his orders.
"Kill them all and leave their bodies. Take the goods, then dispose of them."
"Understood."
Weapons were drawn, and the bandits began advancing toward the merchants. The leader and his companions screamed, pleading desperately.
"Please! Take everything we have! Just spare our lives!"
Their cries fell on deaf ears. The bandits weren't interested in negotiation, nor did they seem particularly motivated by wealth.
These were no ordinary bandits.
One of them raised his sword. The merchant leader, shaking with fear, closed his eyes and screamed.
Thunk!
"Aaah!"
Hearing the sound of something being pierced, the merchant leader braced himself for the pain—only to feel nothing.
"Huh?"
Startled, he opened his eyes. The bandit who had raised his sword lay on the ground, impaled by a spear.
The other bandits immediately raised their weapons, forming a defensive formation with tense expressions.
Thud, thud, thud, thud!
The merchant leader turned slowly, following the bandits' line of sight. A man on a black horse galloped toward them.
There were thirty bandits. How could one man terrify them so much?
As the rider approached, the merchant leader's eyes widened in disbelief.
"What kind of speed is that…?"
With each blink, the distance between them shrank dramatically. A dark crimson aura emanated from the rider, wrapping around both him and his horse.
Then came the bandits' panicked shouts.
"It's the Fenris Count!"
"The Fenris Count?"
The approaching figure was none other than Ghislain.
Ghislain grinned as he spotted the bandits ahead.
"So, you're not ordinary thieves after all."
The fact that these so-called bandits recognized him so quickly confirmed his suspicion. Ordinary criminals wouldn't have known his face.
Ghislain's fame preceded him, but the way these men moved—disciplined and coordinated—was not the work of common bandits or even deserters.
Boom!
The black horse leaped over the gathered merchants and landed in front of the bandits.
Thud.
Ghislain dismounted smoothly, drawing his sword with an eerie calm.
"None of you will leave here alive."
"Attack!" the bandit leader bellowed, and his men charged, their eyes filled with the resolve of the doomed.
Shing! Shing! Shing!
Each swing of Ghislain's sword claimed another life. Heads rolled, and bodies crumpled to the ground with every fluid motion.
Despite their comrades falling around them, the remaining bandits pressed forward, their desperation palpable.
Ghislain chuckled darkly.
"Knights masquerading as bandits? Really?"
Though their skill level wasn't exceptional, every single one of them used mana. At the very least, they were trained as low-ranking knights.
No ordinary bandit would possess such discipline or training. It was clear now—these weren't mere deserters.
Only a force like the Ducal House could afford to expend knights like this in such a reckless manner.
Of course, the bandits likely didn't see themselves as disposable. Their task was simple: evade capture and distract their pursuers.
It wasn't until the leader engaged Ghislain directly that he realized just how misguided their mission had been.
"The rumors don't do him justice!"
He had underestimated Fenris territory. The Count's forces had far greater reach and vigilance than anticipated.
And so, the bandit leader drew his sword and, with grim determination, slit his own throat before he could be captured.
Thud.
As the leader fell, the skirmish ended. No bandits remained standing.
Ghislain flicked the blood from his blade, staring down at the fallen leader.
"Hmph."
Weak though they were, their discipline was evident. The leader's willingness to die rather than be interrogated spoke volumes.
"This just confirms my suspicions."
The kind of loyalty and skill these "bandits" displayed wasn't typical. Only the Ducal House would employ knights in such a manner, disguising them as expendable criminals.
"Thank you! Thank you so much!"
The merchant leader threw himself to the ground in gratitude, followed by the other merchants.
Ghislain turned to him and asked curtly, "I am the Fenris Count. Did they say anything unusual?"
The merchant leader, still trembling, nodded rapidly.
"They weren't normal thieves, my lord! They seemed to have a purpose. They weren't interested in negotiations or loot. And I overheard them saying something about running around to keep people chasing them… I thought they might be deserters, but…"
The man spoke quickly, perhaps trying to prove himself useful or simply relieved to be alive.
Ghislain nodded as he listened.
"It's as I suspected. A distraction."
If the Ducal House and the Salvation Church were using decoys like this, it was clear they were up to something bigger.
Their aim was obvious—to scatter the kingdom's forces and divert attention.
The Count's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of galloping hooves.
"My lord!"
Finally, the knights who had accompanied him arrived. Ghislain clicked his tongue in annoyance.
"Still too slow."
"No, my lord, you're just too fast."
The knights grumbled silently. How were they supposed to keep up with a Black King horse enhanced by mana?
Ghislain turned back to the merchants.
"The bandits will be eradicated. You can continue your journey without worry."
"Thank you! My lord, if you're heading toward the nearest town, allow us to accompany you. We'd be honored to serve as your escort!"
It was clear the merchant leader wanted protection, afraid of encountering more bandits.
"I have other business. I'll assign a few knights to escort you. Don't worry."
"Thank you, my lord!"
Ghislain assigned ten knights to accompany the merchants, ensuring their safety.
"Escort them to their destination, then head to Lindstein and wait for further orders. Inform Selburk to prepare a hunting party for the bandits."
Selburk, though officially in charge of the western territories, relied heavily on Fenris's administrators to maintain order.
The knights saluted as the merchants departed, grateful for the protection.
Ghislain sighed softly as he watched them leave.
"Whatever they're planning, it must be well underway by now."
He looked toward the horizon, his expression hardening.
"Time to move. We're heading to the Barony of Finros."
It was the most likely location for a Rift and the next step in his investigation.
The guards at the border checkpoint of Finros were startled by Ghislain's arrival.
"My lord, the Fenris Count… What brings you here?"
Even the knight in charge was visibly trembling.
After all, they had witnessed the fall of Marquis Rodrick. Seeing the Fenris Count with nearly 200 knights in tow was enough to shake anyone.
Ghislain smirked at their reaction.
"Just here to take a look around."
"…"
The knight didn't dare speak, his mouth clamped shut.
"Yes, go ahead and report to your lord quickly…"
Ghislain interrupted the stammering knight, smirking.
"No need to make it complicated. Just think of me as a traveler. A traveler, got it?"
"But, but, how could I…"
The knight's face turned pale. How could he treat a noble leading knights like a casual traveler? What chaos could they cause if left unchecked?
"I said, think of it as a trip. I'm really busy right now, so don't make this harder than it has to be."
The commanding tone was laced with an unspoken menace. Squeezing his eyes shut, the knight finally relented.
"Welcome to the Barony of Finros, my lord. I… I hope you have a pleasant trip."
Ignoring the trembling knight, Ghislain led his knights straight through the checkpoint and headed directly toward his target: a small town.
While many rifts previously discovered by the Royalist faction were in small villages, some were hidden in urban areas.
The challenge of finding a rift in a bustling town was considerable. The sheer number of people and structures made the task daunting and required substantial manpower for thorough searches.
The Ducal House, aware of this difficulty, had unleashed bandits across the kingdom to spread confusion and divert troops away from such searches.
When Ghislain arrived at the town, the scene at the entrance checkpoint was similar to the one at the border.
"Quickly, someone notify the mayor…"
"No need. You can inform him later. I'm in a hurry," Ghislain replied curtly.
"Then, may I ask your purpose…"
"I have personal matters to attend to. I'll be in and out."
As soon as they entered the town, Ghislain turned to his knights.
"Raise your mana to the maximum and scan the surroundings. You know the energy we're looking for, don't you?"
The knights nodded. They remembered the vile and insidious energy they had sensed in the village where they captured Lavier.
This energy wasn't something one could detect without intense focus. It required flooding the area with mana to overpower any interference.
"Good. Leave no stone unturned. I'll take responsibility if anything happens."
"Yes, my lord!"
The knights dispersed, moving quickly and methodically. The town's guards could only watch in stunned silence.
Ghislain patted one of the guards on the shoulder, offering a vague reassurance.
"Don't worry, nothing bad will happen."
Of course, none of the guards believed him.
Unleashing a squad of knights into the town without explanation? Trouble was bound to follow.
Ignoring the skeptical guards, Ghislain released his own mana, saturating the area as he joined the search.
As the knights combed through the town with precision, Lucas suddenly came sprinting toward Ghislain, shouting.
"We found it! We found it!"
"You did?"
"Yes! Remember that village where I broke my arm during the fight? It's the same feeling! The energy here is exactly like that! But there's something odd about the people in the area."
"Odd? In what way?"
"They seem… off. You'll have to see it for yourself."
"Lead the way."
Ghislain smiled. It was just as he suspected—there was indeed a rift hidden in this town.
With Lucas guiding him, Ghislain strode forward, his mind already calculating the next steps. Whatever the Ducal House and the Salvation Church were planning, it was time to crush it at its source.