Chapter 40
A century ago, the traitors crossed over to the Wasteland bearing the ‘Brand of the Curse’, passed down through their bloodline.
Swish.
Spiel took off his shirt after removing his jacket. His body was spotless—without even a speck of dust. Delgain felt relieved at the sight, but as the light caught his skin and the brand shimmered into view, he squeezed his eyes shut.
The Brand of the Curse.
It was rare for a noble house to be completely destroyed for treason against the Xenon Kingdom. But a century ago, there was one such house that had been condemned and crushed.
The House of Duke Sardia.
With his upper body glittering under the light, Spiel spoke to Delgain.
“Soon, the dogs of the Wasteland will arrive. They will take me away from this place in exchange for helping me realize my goal.”
* * *
Today marked a week. Delgain was supposed to have sent 1,000 gold to Hebron or at least received Hebron’s forces, but there was still no word.
“I heard he secured the funds. Was it for his escape?”
Delgain had sold a family heirloom to the Serpens Trading Company. Serpens’ guildmaster gave him 1,000 gold, and just yesterday, he made another deal with the Paradine Trading Company and secured over 500 gold more.
Everyone knew selling goods hastily leads to losses. Ignoring such a basic truth meant he had a very good reason.
“The moment Delgain steps outside the lord’s manor, the falcon will take flight.”
Amy suspected that Delgain was planning to flee. I thought that was highly likely as well. If he sold his territory, his manor, and his title, he could easily walk away with more than 3,000 gold.
And yet, the Delgain Barony was far too quiet for someone preparing to disappear.
Hebron’s army was ready to move. The moment I gave the order, they would march into Delgain, drag the baron out, and seize the land.
“This doesn’t sit right. Did you look into that man, Spiel?”
“He’s a slave.”
“A slave? Who sold him?”
The atmosphere turned tense.
Amy glanced over at the Serpens’ guildmaster. The man, who had been sighing non-stop, finally replied in a low voice.
“…The former guildmaster of the Serpens Trading Company.”
The current guildmaster’s name was Serpens Junior. I vaguely recalled hearing that he had inherited the company after his father’s untimely death.
“And you’re only telling us this now because…?”
“I discovered it during the investigation. My father passed away 11 years ago, but in one of the hidden ledgers we recently uncovered, we found records of Spiel’s existence.”
Serpens looked visibly exhausted.
It seemed he hadn’t slept a wink all night over this.
“A hidden ledger?”
“Yes. A secret record even I wasn’t aware of.”
He brought out a worn-out book. It was an ordinary notebook with no writing on the cover.
I didn’t bother flipping through it. I asked Serpens directly.
“What was being traded?”
“Slaves.”
“Slave trading is legal, though?”
“Selling the descendants of traitors…”
Serpens’ voice trembled.
He struggled to keep his emotions in check as he continued.
“…is illegal.”
“Descendants of traitors?”
Serpens’ head dropped.
Had an executioner been present, he could have easily severed that neck in one stroke.
I recalled everything I knew about the Wasteland, revisiting Serpens’ reaction and the implications of the ledger. As the pieces fell into place, a single conclusion emerged.
And for Hebron, it was the epitome of despair.
“Spiel… Is he of House Sardia’s bloodline?”
“Yes.”
A hundred years ago, House Sardia was destroyed for treason. Most of its bloodline was executed. The few survivors were branded as slaves and sold.
Unlike ordinary slaves, those condemned for treason bore the ‘Brand of the Curse’. Because the curse flowed through their blood, it was passed down regardless of maternal or paternal lineage.
Since no one dared covet that mark of betrayal, the cursed bloodline faded into oblivion. I, too, had believed the House Sardia bloodline had gone extinct.
Yet here they were—remnants surviving in the desolate Wasteland, with the former guildmaster of the Serpens Trading Company tied to it all.
A heavy phrase lingered beneath my tongue.
“Exterminate all connected to it!”
That was the only way Hebron could survive.
We had to cut all ties with Serpens and send those people to the Xenon Kingdom.
‘Was Amy the one who uncovered this? Or did Serpens confess of his own accord?’
Either way, it wasn’t something we could ignore.
Hebron itself could be implicated in the treason.
Even if the treason had taken place a century ago, their forces could not be allowed to rise again. For the king, wiping out a borderland barony over treason was as simple as snapping his fingers.
Serpens looked as though he had already accepted death.
From the moment the ledger was discovered, it was as if the Serpens Guild had already been marked with the Brand of the Curse.
“It sounds like you’re saying there are more of House Sardia’s bloodline.”
I hoped I was wrong, but Serpens nodded.
“The Wastelands.”
His shoulders trembled.
“They say the dogs live in the Wastelands… so it was the survivors of House Sardia all along. Was that children’s tale created by one of the survivors? Or perhaps a vassal who remained loyal?”
—A wild dog that served a hunter its whole life was cast out in its final years and driven into the Wasteland. Each night, it howled with longing for its master, and its cries stirred sandstorms across the barren land. So never cry out in the dark of night. The cries of the night are the cries of wild dogs. And the sandstorm may come to swallow you whole.
It was a tale even Hebron’s children could recite by heart.
The very existence of that tale was a threat to Hebron.
‘There’s only one way to survive…’
I ran through the possibilities. I tried to form a hypothesis that would protect Hebron without losing what was mine. Among dozens and hundreds of options, I filtered out only those that were even remotely viable.
Once I eliminated everything that couldn't overcome the reality before me, nothing remained.
So I considered plans that, while dangerous, might still safeguard my interests. I was just about to confide those ideas to Amy when—
Tap, tap, tap.
A trained messenger hawk pecked at the window.
When I opened it, the hawk perched on my shoulder. It wasn’t from Delgain—it came from Zylson.
I unfastened the message from its leg and read it. As expected, the opening lines confirmed what I had long foreseen.
“Slein is on the move. A declaration of war is likely imminent.”
“They have no justification, though.” Amy asked puzzled
“They’ll make one. You think Slein lacks people capable of that?”
Viscount Zylson wouldn't have rushed to send such obvious information.
What he’d actually spotted was another movement from Slein’s forces.
Crrrk!
I crumpled the note. As I flicked it away, Inferno burst forth, consuming it in flames.
“...Slein’s forces will reach Delgain within three days.”
Amy shot up from the table, slamming her hands on it.
“Baron Delgain brought in Viscount Slein! This is madness. Viscount Slein would never be so foolish. It might seem like a strategy to encircle Zylson and Hebron, but all they’ve really done is divide their forces. Tactically, it’s a losing move.”
Her assessment was spot-on. Even with Ambrod absent and Zylson's forces weakened, they weren’t so vulnerable as to collapse under Slein’s assault.
Splitting their soldiers now was a blunder on Slein’s part.
Viscount Zylson surely realized this. Even that short message made it clear that he was expecting a civil war with Slein.
“Now I think I understand why.”
“The Dogs of the Wasteland…! Ah, it’s my fault. If only I hadn’t been so greedy…”
If they had conquered Delgain and eliminated everyone involved, the Dogs of the Wasteland wouldn’t have intervened.
“The one who chose your plan was me. The responsibility is mine. If I can’t even take responsibility, then I have no right to be your lord.”
The dye was already cast. And there was no need to fear blindly without knowing the true strength of the dogs of the Wasteland.
Yes, they were descendants of a ducal house—but they were traitors. If we acted quickly, Hebron could call upon the power of the Xenon Kingdom.
“Amy, I hereby appoint you as Hebron’s acting strategist. Focus all our strength on the battle with Delgain.”
“Yes, my lord!”
I gave her a glance.
The glance meant to tell her to go now. Amy clenched her teeth and left the office. This situation was too heavy to rely on her brilliance alone.
“Serpens.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Trading in the descendants of traitors is a grave crime.”
Serpens clenched his fists. He had only just begun to flourish, but all of it now teetered on the edge of ruin.
Countless plans spun through my mind. I constructed hypotheses for each one, but none offered a safe solution.
In the end, I decided it was better to risk danger than to lose what was mine.
I gave Serpens his orders.
“Burn the hidden ledger. Eliminate any other traces. Only you, I, and Amy will know of this.”
Serpens slowly raised his head.
Tears streamed down the face of a man in his late forties, making him look like a man well past sixty. A string of snot hung beneath his nose.
“Thank you!”
“I take care of what’s mine.”
“You have my loyalty… my undying loyalty!”
Hebron had chosen to relieve Serpens’ burden.
But that didn’t mean the matter was resolved. To tie off this loose end, we would need to root out everyone involved—completely and without mercy.
If that proved impossible, then the only remaining option was to report the innocence of House Hebron and Serpens to the Xenon Kingdom.
“If you survive, do that. I have somewhere I need to go—don’t be alone. Keep guards by your side at all times.”
I took a seat in my desk chair.
There, resting on the table, was the longsword I had purchased from Serpens.
The jewel that had once been embedded below the hilt was missing, leaving a hollow socket—but that didn’t throw off the balance of the sword in the slightest.
Crash!
Suddenly, the window behind my desk shattered. A dark shadow burst into the office, lunging straight for me.
CLAAAAANG!
Swords clashed against swords.
The assassin’s eyes widened in disbelief.
Only his eyes and the bridge of his nose were visible, the rest of him was completely shrouded in black cloth. A cloaked assassin, cloaked in shadow, had come for my throat.
But our swords locked, and mine began to push forward toward the assassin’s neck.
“B-Baron! Guards! Guards! An assassin!”
Serpens shouted in panic.
But I was already pressing forward, feeling the pulse of aura coursing through every vein in my body.
“Serpens, don’t worry. The place I’m going to isn’t the afterlife.”
I had prepared thoroughly for just such an occasion.
It was all to avoid the disgrace of dying twice to the same tactic. I’d developed the habit of always scanning for places assassins might hide, of picturing their attacks in advance. This time was no different.
CLANG!
The assassin struck my sword away, seizing a narrow opening.
I had given it to him on purpose—because I needed proof for the theory I had formed.
Clang! Clang! CLAANG!
Blow after blow rang out.
Now the style felt familiar, almost second nature—The Sardian swordsmanship.
I knew how to counter it.
The Breio style, in its lesser forms, held within its techniques meant to dismantle the Sardian swordsmanship.
The assassin faltered slightly—surprised, perhaps—and then began to respond to my movements.
I deliberately eased my strength, luring him into a more aggressive stance.
‘So they’ve studied ways to counter the Sardian swordsmanship. But your skills… they’re not enough to master it all.’
