Chapter 756: Chapter 756: Hostage (1)

“So what you're saying is... the Marquis Tertherion is coughing up blood and collapsing on the brink of death?”

The Lord of Noark was at a loss for words after receiving the report.

Well, maybe “at a loss for words” wasn’t quite accurate—what he felt first was just “Are you fucking kidding me?”

And who wouldn’t?

“Do you actually think this makes any sense?”

How many knights were assigned to protect the Marquis? How many mages?

All of them had been raised by the Marquis since childhood, brainwashed until the very concept of “betrayal” had been erased from their minds. Human golems, in every sense.

At one point, the Lord of Noark had even envied the Marquis, thinking If only I had subordinates like that, I wouldn’t fear anything.

And yet...

“You’re telling me someone actually broke through that kind of guard?”

An impenetrable wall of defense—broken.

And not even by some grand assassin, but...

“By some seventh-grade navigator, one of Yandel’s comrades?”

From the Lord’s point of view, it didn’t make sense no matter how many times he heard it.

Sure, the navigator might’ve had some unknown third-grade essence, but come on.

What the hell was the Marquis thinking?

He didn’t even bind the guy with a psychic shackle before bringing him right up to his face?

“Well... I suppose they were a little too confident in their own intel...”

“Even if I grant that the Marquis was that arrogant, you're telling me not a single one of his guards questioned it?”

The subordinate shut his mouth tightly at the Lord’s anger.

Of course, it wasn’t that he had nothing to say.

“......”

From the perspective of someone loyal to their lord, it was more likely that the Marquis’s guards had anticipated the possibility of an assassination attempt by the navigator.

But probably something tame—like a fireball or a hidden blade.

In that case, they'd be waiting by his side, and when the “navigator” tried something, they’d stop it with a single blow, then mutter something like ‘What foolishness... Are you alright, my lord?’ while earning brownie points.

Yeah, honestly...

Not a bad little plan.

Especially since no one would actually get hurt.

The Marquis could take pride in having invested wisely in his subordinates, and the subordinates could feel more justified in their next paycheck.

But...

“That’s what makes the Marquis’s men so cunning—clever and conniving. I should remember that for later.”

That’s the sort of reflection he should have been having.

But it got cut short for one simple reason:

Because what should have been an impossible assassination attempt...

actually succeeded.

‘You fucking idiots.’

Now, the Marquis’s entire inner circle were just a bunch of clowns.

Still, unlike them, the Lord wasn’t a clown. So he kept those thoughts to himself.

For one very simple reason:

The one he's yelling at isn’t me.

And really, what good would it do to know the pathetic details of his subordinates’ screw-ups?

“Huu...”

Just as expected, it wasn’t long before the Lord let out a sigh.

He was an intelligent man. He didn’t take his frustrations out on the wrong people.

With a touch of frustration, he simply asked:

“So tell me. The assassination attempt succeeded—I get that. But what the hell do you mean the Marquis is ‘on the brink of death’?”

From his perspective, it was a reasonable question.

It’s not like the Marquis was some lower-class wretch who couldn’t afford a priest’s healing spell.

He’s either dead or he’s alive. What’s with this ‘brink of death’ nonsense?

“Well...”

Hearing that, the subordinate closed his eyes like a man facing the inevitable.

“To be precise, he’s not exactly on the brink of death.”

He’d never said that, not exactly.

He’d realized early on that a misunderstanding had taken hold—but it hadn’t been the right moment to correct it.

Still, rather than drag out the awkwardness by clarifying things too late, he chose to explain before the Lord could speak again.

“The Marquis possessed an artifact. It saves you from a fatal injury, but in exchange it puts you into a coma for two days.”

He left out the name and serial number of the artifact.

Not exactly important right now.

“...Should I be relieved, or not?”

The intelligent superior finally grasped the full situation.

“The mana weapons are still under the Marquis’s authority, correct?”

“...Yes.”

“So we won’t be able to use Urae for two days.”

“...Yes.”

The ancient war machine, considered more strategically valuable than even the Orkulis commander, had just turned into a pile of scrap.

Because of one seventh-grade navigator.

“What happens to the operation, then?”

He didn’t specify which operation.

But the man who had served a single superior for more than a decade understood instantly.

“Temporary command and execution rights for the plan to capture Bjorn Yandel using Ainard as bait have been transferred to the eldest son, Eltora Tertherion.”

“...And if something happens to him too?”

Then things would get complicated.

Even the ever-prepared Marquis probably hadn’t thought to appoint a stand-in for his temporary stand-in.

The right answer was: We don’t know.

That is, unless someone interfered.

“In that case...”

Since the cause would be external, not internal, there was a clause in the alliance agreement that could be interpreted—creatively.

“In that case, my Lord, you may temporarily assume command authority.”

“...I see.”

Hearing the answer he wanted, the Lord seemed visibly pleased.

And finally, with some of his curiosity piqued, he asked a personal question.

“So, what happened to the navigator?”

“Well...”

Now that his superior seemed to be in a better mood, the subordinate answered more comfortably.

***

Auyen Rockrove.

When he opened his eyes in a dark underground prison, his first thought was:

‘Why am I alive?’

In this world, failing to pay your taxes got you executed.

So it was common sense to fight tooth and nail to survive, every single moment.

And as one of its denizens, Auyen Rockrove knew better than most the value of life—or more precisely, his own life.

And yet...

‘Seriously, why am I still alive?’

Rather than relief, confusion ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) took the lead.

It’s not that he wasn’t relieved—but the confusion was stronger.

After all, he had closed his eyes after seeing a meteor slam into the earth.

And now he was waking up in one piece.

The first thought wouldn’t be “I survived...” but “Why am I alive?”

So he retraced the last moments before blacking out.

[Kugh—!]

The Marquis had collapsed, vomiting blood.

[M-My Lord...!!]

Mages and priests—those precious elites—rushed to his side, panicking.

And then—

[A-An assassination...!!]

The knights, those who lived to use their bodies, all lunged at him like one.

In an instant, his body was crushed to the ground.

And “crushed” wasn’t metaphorical.

Arms, neck, legs, ankles, index and middle fingers of his left hand, ears, etc. etc.—

As if sealing away a great demon, dozens of knights tied him down, binding every limb.

In hindsight, it made sense.

With the Marquis collapsing like that, who the hell wouldn’t panic?

This wasn’t some situation where you could just stand back and say, “Well, they’ve got it covered...”

[......]

Pinned beneath dozens of knights, he couldn’t breathe.

And eventually, his consciousness faded.

And when he opened his eyes—here he was.

‘Seriously... why am I still alive?’

The human mind is a strange thing.

Even while dying of suffocation, he could still clearly hear—

[The Marquis has lost consciousness...!]

[What a monstrous bastard...!]

[Why are you restraining him? Kill him immediately!!]

The hatred and fury directed at him—the Marquis’s would-be assassin.

It was still unclear whether this was real or a dream, or if he’d somehow landed in the afterlife.

“......”

A cold silence filled the underground cell.

Auyen Rockrove kept wondering why, and that question slowly evolved.

From “Why am I alive?” to “Why did they let me live?”

And just when the question reached that point, he got his answer.

From a mysterious man who appeared deep in this underground cell of some unknown building.

“Eltora Tertherion,” he introduced himself.

The Marquis’s son.

“I have something I’d like to ask of you.”

At first, Auyen thought it would be some twisted request to suffer through torture before dying.

But instead...

“Please... please help me.”

It took him a while to respond—when he finally did, it was in a dazed voice.

“...Excuse me?”

He didn’t understand a damn thing either.

***

Waiting might seem passive at first glance, but in truth, it's open to interpretation.

You don’t even need a philosophy book to know that.

Passive: when the subject is acted upon by an outside force.

Active: when the subject acts on its own will.

So if you wait because you chose to, it’s an active behavior.

But if someone holds a knife to your throat and tells you to wait, that’s passive.

Amelia Rainwales fell into the former category.

“......”

Her body still wasn’t in perfect condition.

And from the looks of it, the rescue target was also still intact.

Jumping in right now wasn’t the best move. It made more sense to wait for a better opportunity.

Well, unless something suspicious suddenly happened. Then she’d have no choice but to act.

Having made that decision on her own terms, Amelia waited.

She didn’t feel bored or restless at all.

She was used to this. Her countless infiltration and assassination missions, forced upon her by others, had made her an expert at waiting.

Drrrrrrrrrng—!

It was a bit irritating that the person she was supposed to rescue was snoring away in that situation, but still.

Her mission hadn’t changed.

“......”

She held her breath. Erased her presence.

Listened to the enemy chatter, absorbing it all and organizing it carefully in her mind.

Seemingly trivial details would later help her make rational decisions.

And sometimes—she’d overhear something important.

Like now.

“I don’t get why we’re even guarding this woman. Why not just kill her and be done with it?”

“Tsk, that’s a really shortsighted way of thinking.”

“Shortsighted...? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you can’t see far ahead. You only focus on what’s right in front of you. Think for a second—why do you think the higher-ups captured the lancer and locked her up like this?”

“......Just say it already.”

“She’s bait. For a much bigger fish.”

“A bigger fish... oh! They’re trying to catch the giant guy!”

“Exactly. Otherwise, there’s no reason to assign this many people just to watch over one subdued barbarian.”

The man who heard that explanation stayed quiet for a while.

Then, staring at the speaker, he asked:

“.........Did you actually figure that out yourself?”

“Haha, of course not! A friend of mine in command whispered it to me after I got this assignment.”

“...And that ‘shortsighted’ line—he’s the one who said it too, right?”

“Well, naturally! These educated types always use those fancy words, I’m telling you...”

From Amelia’s position hidden in the ceiling, that wasn’t something she could ignore.

Based on the context, it wasn’t some idle speculation. This was the official plan.

‘So they really did use her as bait to lure Yandel...’

She was glad she hadn’t listened to Auyen’s advice and had come to rescue Ainard anyway.

But the realization also made her a bit anxious.

Because now there was a time limit.

She had to do something before Yandel walked straight into the trap.

She was sure of it—if that barbarian found out a comrade had been taken, he’d charge in even knowing it was a trap.

The best outcome was to get this done before he ever arrived.

No doubt about it.

But...

How?

The answer came from a completely unexpected place.

“Everyone, leave us for a moment. I have business with the woman.”

A man approached Ainard’s holding cell, clearing out the heavily guarded area with a single command.

‘Eltora Tertherion...!’

Crouched in the darkness, Amelia’s eyes gleamed.

She didn’t know what kind of “business” he had in mind, but it couldn’t be good.

After all, he was the son of the Marquis—a man who might as well be evil incarnate.

He definitely came here with something sinister in mind—

‘Auyen...?’

Shit. He got caught?

Amelia spotted the man following behind the Chancellor’s son and clenched her jaw, calculations racing through her mind.

‘If they don’t know I’m up here right now...’

Then not only could she slit his throat—she could subdue him.

And if she could subdue him, she could threaten and manipulate him afterward.

‘There’s no way I’m getting a better chance than this.’

She didn’t need much time to act.

Split-second decisions, driven by instinct, often had the highest success rate.

‘Now.’

Amelia released her stealth and dropped nimbly from the ceiling.

“......!”

Eltora looked up, just barely noticing her presence.

But it was too late to draw his sword.

Chak.

Landing, Amelia trapped his neck between her legs.

And with her only free hand, she drove a dagger—brimming with cold, sharp aura—straight at his face like lightning—

Whoooosh—!

The blade halted just short of Eltora’s widened eyes.

“If you make a sound, you die. Move without permission—you die. Even think too hard—you die. If you understand, kneel down, slowly—”

“L-Lady Emily!”

“Thank me later—”

“H-He’s on our side! That man...!”

...Huh? Our side?

What the hell is he talking about?

Wait. No way...

“You’ve already been brainwashed, haven’t you...?”

“Huh? Brainwashed? N-No, it’s not that...!”

“Unbelievable. The bastards...”

“No, seriously! I’m totally fine!”

It took quite some time before Amelia fully grasped the situation and came to accept it.

“...So what you’re saying is, this guy ditched his dad and wants to join us?”

“Y-Yes...! That’s right!”

Auyen nodded fervently.