Chapter 413

“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?"n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

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.

"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.