Chapter 276 - To the Autonomous Territory (2)
Huge wagons thundered down the main road, raising clouds of dust.
Privately modified to maximize cargo capacity, they were enormous and weighed no small amount. At least three horses were required to pull them smoothly.
Only with specially bred horses, known for their developed endurance, could they be made to move for longer distances and longer hours.
In contrast, the mounts chosen for the escort troops were selected for explosive bursts of speed, in preparation for sudden emergencies.
The upkeep cost was indeed high, but it was a necessary expense.
The more cargo carried in a single trip, the more drastically the numbers of money in their purse would change.
A transport company numbering in the dozens.
In this region, Padreld was considered almost like the representative merchant guild of the smuggling world.
But in the end, they were still just another group working in the underworld.
'If I had known, I would have bought a carriage meant for entertaining guests.'
The mixed scent of metal and wood brushed his nose.
The cramped interior of the carriage brimmed with a cloud-like gloom. Though they had cleared as much space as possible and cleaned it thoroughly, it was still limited by being a freight carriage.
Honestly, why would smugglers need a luxurious carriage? It was difficult to maintain and practically useless.
The only outsiders they ever carried were illegal immigrants they smuggled into villages or cities for money, according to the market price.
On rare occasions, nobles visited as well, but status meant little here. The mere fact that one had come to the Smugglers' Canyon meant they were either already ruined, or on the brink of ruin.
Among them, Padreld had never once encountered a guest influential enough to be treated as a true master.
That was why he now felt uneasy.
Padreld, who had been quietly shifting his eyes around, let out a small cough.
"This is rather shabby, I apologize. There's no carriage finer than this in the canyon..."
"It doesn't matter."
Verden leaned against the wall as if accustomed to it.
He was someone who had spent his childhood in an orphanage and then as a worker of the Magic Tower.
Now, being a king of the underworld or an honorary baron, he had no intention of making a fuss over the state of a single carriage.
Status was nothing but a tool.
Verden, gazing out at the scenery through the carriage's gap, asked.
"I've already gathered some understanding of the Midros Autonomous Territory. Still, hearing it from someone like you who has actually worked there should be more accurate. How is the atmosphere overall?"
"It was never a particularly safe place, but right now it's quite severe. On a local scale, it's comparable to, or even worse than, the southern Estiria Kingdom where the Undead incident occurred."
His voice lowered.
"Because the master of the Mamentus Merchant Guild was devoured by demi-humans outside, guilds heading to or leaving the territory have shrunk back. As a result, food prices have multiplied several times, the economy is in shambles. To the point where, the moment you step off the main road, groups appear trying to rob you."
"The guards?"
"They take bribes and turn a blind eye. Their salaries alone aren't enough to survive, so they've lined their back pockets. Well, that alone wouldn't be such a problem..."
Padreld scratched his temple.
"You may or may not know, but not long ago, the Rainbow-hued Inn, the most expensive inn in the territory, burned down. It was a place mainly used by the wealthy, with strict security. Because of that, the guests dispersed, and from what I've heard, there are even groups now specializing in targeting those with heavy purses."
The Rainbow-hued Inn reduced to ashes, the death of the Mamentus Merchant Guild.
Both were incidents connected to the Bohemirn Magic Tower, the very things Verden was paying attention to.
"The fire at the inn, you see it as an incident, not an accident."
"An accident? Hah, I've personally stayed at the Rainbow-hued Inn, so I can tell you for certain, there's no way. There was almost nothing there that could have served as a spark. Even if by some chance a fire had started, they could have dealt with it immediately."
That is, if it had been operating normally.
"The current situation in the territory, the absence of guards at the time of the fire, the fact that guests were forced to move to less secure places, and then the appearance of those ambushing them. At least from my perspective, it can't be seen as an accident."
Though of course, only when the truth was revealed could one know.
Since it was nothing more than suspicion, he carefully added.
"For that reason, aside from adventurers who came to subjugate demi-humans, many mercenaries have also flowed into the territory. Their intention is to make a profit through carriage escort or personal protection requests. They're fierce types, so if they get into real trouble, blades are bound to be drawn. The atmosphere is grim."
Padreld shrugged his shoulders.
"And meanwhile, the lord of the territory and the nobles merely watch on, lining their own pockets. That is the Midros Autonomous Territory. As a travel destination, it's absolutely the worst."
It was a candid assessment from a smuggler's perspective.
"Then the organizations working in the shadows must have grown in size."
"Correct. Even for someone like me, long involved in this business, it's unusually large."
"Unusual, you say..."
Verden recalled his true purpose.
The reason he was heading to the Midros Autonomous Territory was to make contact with a certain group in the Eastern Continent that was hostile to the Bohemirn Magic Tower.
He needed to see and judge with his own eyes whether they were worth being made into a base of power.
'But to find them, I need information.'
Here, Verden planned to use his identity as the ruler of Roafra.
The weight of that infamous name was not only known throughout the kingdom, but also spread widely through the underworld of the Eastern Continent.
If what Robert had told him was correct, the organizations in the territory would not dare ignore Verden's command—or even his request.
In other words, they would become his arms and legs, gathering information for him.
'Without me needing to run around myself.'
In that sense, Padreld was the right guide.
The reputation he had built as a smuggler gave him credibility to prove Verden's identity. It would also make it easier to gather the scattered organizations.
Far more efficient than moving alone.
In many ways, it was worth investing both time and money.
***
The road to the Midros Autonomous Territory was smooth.
The rumors of demi-humans were not false. In the forests where adventurers had carried out several subjugations, a few groups of demi-humans did show themselves, but they never attempted an attack.
Padreld's transport company was, after all, quite large.
Sensing the danger by instinct, the creatures quietly slipped deeper into the forest.
Thus three days passed.
Rumble.
From the clouded sky came the sound of thunder.
Thick rain drenched soil and wood. Because of the sudden winter rain, the carriages slowed.
Charging down the darkened road at full speed would have been reckless.
Padreld, wrapped in a cloak, glanced outside.
"We'll soon be arriving at a city of the territory. Fortunately, it seems we won't have to camp in this weather."
Sleeping amidst a storm was never a pleasant experience.
Relieved at the thought of resting at an inn in the city, he let out a sigh.
At that moment, Verden, who had been quietly meditating, opened his eyes.
"Padreld."
"Yes, sir."
"Are there bandits in these parts?"
Bandits?
Padreld shook his head.
"In the past, perhaps, but now, no. If someone tried to stay outside and steal, they'd just be eaten by demi-humans. And besides, adventurers come regularly for subjugations, they'd be discovered right away."
"Then they're not bandits, you mean."
"?"
Verden rose to his feet.
He stepped out to the coachman's seat and looked around.
Even without using
'And even mana as well.'
Verden's gaze turned forward.
Kugugugu...!
Suddenly, an
The startled coachman pulled hard on the reins, but there wasn't enough distance to stop completely.
"Wh-what the…!"
The escort veered the wagons off the road to avoid a collision.
But the leading carriage couldn't avoid crashing into the wall, nor could the wagons behind avoid piling into one another in chaos.
At that instant, Padreld's pupils dilated as he poked his head outside.
Verden's Mystic Eye flickered.
The wall that blocked the road split vertically, opening wide to both sides.
The carriage that had nearly collided slipped through and came to a halt. The formation had scattered, but nothing major had been lost.
The agitated horses screamed, thrashing wildly.
Padreld, dagger drawn, shouted.
"Ambush! There's a mage among them, be careful!"
The escorts widened their eyes, scanning the surroundings in the sudden confusion.
The smugglers clung to the carriages, guarding the crates of contraband. It was a disciplined movement.
"Which bastards dare…!"
Padreld faltered, then turned.
"Ah, thank you, Sir Asher. We nearly lost a carriage right in front of us. Thanks to you, we avoided disaster."
He had no idea how it was done.
Suppressing his rising curiosity, Padreld held it in.
Verden said.
"It looks like they're after your cargo."
"Seems so. There's no other reason. Please, remain in the carriage. We'll deal with them."
Padreld sounded confident.
Clearly, this wasn't the first time he'd been in such a situation.
But Verden had no intention of wasting time.
"Do they need to be taken alive?"
"Eh? Ah, yes. If possible, about five or six of them..."
He activated Raindia.
From subspace, he drew Orient into his hand and activated his mana circuits.
A basic spell, but improved by the Demon King's Arcane to minimize its flaws.
Even though faint mana waves spread across the area, none noticed. In other words, there were no mages of any real level present.
Just a few low-tier mages, a group armed with light armor, crossbows, bows, and swords.
'So their plan was to topple the wagons, then rain arrows.'
Their numbers were considerable.
Not that it mattered.
Verden lifted his staff toward the sky.
Small lightning bolts, born of mana, lanced upward through the clouds.
***
Raise an
Immediately afterward, sweep Padreld's smugglers with arrows from both sides of the road, and snatch the cargo whole. A simple, clear plan.
And if Padreld had brought a noble, capture him alive, strip him of everything expensive, play with him for amusement, then kill him.
There were few opportunities in life to toy with those born to wealth and power.
Several smugglers and criminals had banded together, their strength more than enough.
"Then why is it so quiet?"
Oel, hiding in the bushes, muttered.
Judging by the commotion nearby, the wagons had stopped as planned... but the mage hadn't sent the signal.
His companions tilted their heads, equally puzzled.
"Did something go wrong? What do we do?"
"Who knows..."
Oel fiddled with his crossbow, hesitating.
The dark, rain-soaked forest.
Perfect weather for an ambush, but just as much, the rain and gloom obscured vision for both sides.
Clicking his tongue, Oel raised his head with a sigh.
"...Huh?"
Suddenly, something blazing shot upward from below.
The instant it disappeared into the gray clouds, blue current flared. A blinding flash swept away the darkness, seizing their eyes.
To those ignorant of magic, it was nothing more than a spectacle.
Quadra Casting.
Four bolts hammered down into the earth.
At the same time, a tide of lightning swept through the soaked raiders.
No screams were heard.
***
Fourth-tier lightning magic,
Augmented in power and range by a magic item like Orient.
Those near the strike points were killed instantly, while those farther away were caught in residual currents—those were the only ones who survived.
Easily disposing of the foes, Verden put Orient away and turned his back.
Padreld cautiously asked.
"I-it's over?"
"Six are unconscious in the brush to the right. Collect them yourself."
Verden stepped back into the carriage.
Left behind, Padreld mouthed wordlessly.
The others watching him wore the same expression. After a deep breath, Padreld gave orders.
The escorts rushed into the forest at once.
'The mage who killed Grond, Asher.'
Truthfully, he had been tense, but not truly alarmed.
His refined features were far removed from menace.
In Smugglers' Canyon, manipulating torrents or using magic circles had been impressive, but that power hadn't struck him viscerally.
Not anymore.
The ability to pinpoint enemies precisely from where he stood.
The killing force of striking down raiders with four bolts of lightning—he had never seen its like.
'...Now I finally feel it.'
Who exactly it was that he was traveling with.
Swaaahhh───!
The heavy rain lashed down upon their heads.
The chill of winter seeped in ever deeper.
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