Three Knights

There was something wrong with Ivy Margaret.

Ethan was serious.

He rode through the downpour, countless thoughts racing through his mind—from the mysterious Margaret Family to the barracks in Gear City, then to the Officer there. What was he supposed to say when he handed Ivy's revolver over?

But then another thought occurred to him.

What were the odds of hiding among the crowd during the Witch and her Minions' invasion and landing a surprise Ice Arrow? Theoretically, the Witch, like him, belonged to a spellcasting class. When caught off guard, her frail body would become a liability. That was also why she had once had her head chopped off by three Second-Order Knights.

The Witch probably did not know there was someone in town who could use the Fireball Spell and Ice Arrow. After all, Elemental Shapers were uncommon on this continent. With the advantage of a surprise attack, his chances seemed fairly promising. The trouble was that Ivy's investigation afterward would be difficult to deal with. Followers of the God of Truth would have a hard time believing the Witch had simply been unlucky enough to die from being hit by hailstones.

Ethan could not help recalling an old saying he had heard.

Friends who killed people often all knew this: killing was easy, disposing of the body was hard. Though he had been transported to this world for two years, he was still a complete amateur in the field of murder.

By the time he rejected the thirteenth excuse, the wooden cabin in the forest had appeared before him.

Ethan quickly realized he no longer needed to worry about excuses. He dismounted and immediately spotted Miss Chloe. Beside her stood a woman in a black cloak, one hand resting on her head. Miss Chloe was trembling nonstop and looked deeply uncomfortable.

There were other visitors outside the cabin too. Their outfits were all more or less alike—the sort of attire that would make people suspect them of no good if they walked down the street.

The white horse traveling with him noticed it too. While Ethan was staring down the Uninvited Guests, it bolted without hesitation and vanished into the depths of the storm before he could call it back.

Apparently, the horse was even more eager than he was to head to Gear City and meet the Kingdom Army's Officer.

The worst-case scenario had happened after all.

Before Ethan could join up with the town's main force, the Witch and her Minions had surrounded him. Their malicious gazes had already marked him as a new sacrifice.

Yet at the same time, Ethan felt slightly more at ease.

At least he no longer had to think up an excuse to persuade Ivy, or calculate how many townspeople would die in the disaster brought by the Witch—if he still had to stay in town, then as the town clerk, he would have to take part in all the subsequent condolence work.

Miss Chloe, who had been crouched unwillingly on the ground, heard the sound behind her. Her eyes lit up. The moment the woman looked away, she broke free from her restraint and darted over. She stood in front of Ethan, hunched over and growling a warning from her throat.

"Go inside and get out of the rain. Don't catch a cold."

Ethan gently stroked Miss Chloe's head, but she craned her neck up at him and let out a questioning chirp.

"Be good."

"Cluck."

Miss Chloe shook her neck and headed for the cabin, looking back every few steps.

"Oh? You didn't try to run?"

The woman in the black cloak sounded somewhat surprised. "I came here because you took something of mine. I just didn't expect you to use it on a chicken... I can tell that chicken likes you very much."

"Her name is Chloe."

Only when Ethan drew closer did he finally see the face beneath the cloak. The familiar features left him stunned for a moment, and he blurted out, "Why is it you?"

"You know me?"

"You're Baron Byrd's daughter. We met at a gathering in Brookwood Town."

The gathering was a regular event between the two towns. Every harvest season, Baron Byrd would bring his wife and children to Brookwood Town to attend it. Unfortunately, as the mayor of Riverside Town, he would never be able to attend another gathering.

The reason Ethan remembered the girl named Becky was because of her strange behavior at the gathering.

While the townspeople shared in the joy of the harvest, she had stayed alone in a corner, staring at Baron Byrd's back with a chilling gaze.

According to Baron Gladin's description, the Witch was an adult Woman, perhaps even closer to the image of an old crone. Yet Becky looked like a girl barely over fifteen. Her loose cloak hung off her body, and together with her rain-soaked long hair, made her look utterly disheveled.

"Oh, you mean Becky. She was a pitiful child."

She grinned, revealing the same chilling smile Ethan remembered. "She had been seriously ill since childhood and saw countless doctors, all of whom said she would not live past ten. The more pitiful part was that she had a foolish mother. To keep her daughter alive, she did not hesitate to seek the help of an evil god."

Ethan watched her raise her right hand and point her index finger at the flesh beneath her eye. Her sharp nail pierced her skin, and bright red blood trickled down the wound on her face. "See? Becky is already gone."

Ethan's scalp tingled. He felt this Witch was more than a little deranged.

"But I don't remember you."

The Witch shrugged.

"That's better," Ethan said. "I'm not someone worth remembering."

"But you're from this town. I heard a sheriff came to your town. How did she describe me to you?"

"She said you were once defeated by three Second-Order Knights. She might not be incapable of doing the same."

As expected, the Witch's face darkened. She gave a cold laugh. "You mean those three Knights who won by poisoning the water source, then shamelessly portrayed themselves as heroes?"

"I knew her plan was unreliable. There's obviously something wrong with the book Three Knights!"

It was only because Baron Gladin had been present earlier that Ethan had been unable to voice his suspicions.

The book described many details with remarkable care. It even covered how the three had become Knights, how they had traveled from the Imperial Capital to the border, and the strange tales they encountered along the way, all written as self-contained little episodes. Ethan had once found it engrossing—until it reached the battle between the Knights and the Witch, where it abruptly fell apart.

It was like one of those webnovels he had read before that hired a ghostwriter halfway through. The schemes and machinations of the war against the Witch became a joke, more like something the author had slapped together one afternoon.

Considering this world did not have the phenomenon of padding word counts for manuscript fees, Ethan thought of one explanation—the way the three Knights defeated the Witch was not good for promoting their heroic image, so it had been given some "artistic" revision.

But that indirectly created a problem.

The Witch's true abilities were far stronger than Ivy had inferred.

Seeing Ethan remain silent for so long, the Witch looked toward the revolver at his waist. "Well? Are you planning to use that against me?"

"Of course not. I've never used a gun."

Ethan immediately denied it. He could not possibly place his hopes of survival on a tool he was unfamiliar with.

"That's a token of the Imperial Capital's Nobles. That Young Lady values you highly. Are you her lover?"

"I'm only a clerk temporarily dragged in to investigate a case."

"Then prove it to me."

The Witch smiled chillingly. "That man over there is Baron Byrd's steward. To prove his loyalty to me, he personally used this to poison the town's water source."

It was a palm-sized gray cloth pouch, and a pungent medicinal smell wafted from within. The Witch's eyes glimmered with a faint green light, and her tone was as seductive as the book had described. "She trusts you. This should not be difficult for you. Curse them, and I will spare you. I'll allow you to follow me, and I'll even share the Master's power with you."

This was not a negotiation.

Ethan noticed the movements of the Witch's followers. They had already sealed off every route of escape. The consequences of refusing were obvious.

This was undoubtedly the most dangerous job interview environment he had ever experienced. He was soaked through by the rain and surrounded by followers of an evil god. Any answer that displeased the interviewer would turn him into a sacrifice for the evil god Bazatos.

"What is your goal?"

Out of politeness, he still symbolically asked about this job's prospects.

The Witch acted as though she had heard something hilarious and burst into unrestrained laughter. It seemed nobody had ever asked her that before. "Goal? Of course, it's to kill everyone who stands in our way."

At least when it came to portraying the Witch, Three Knights had not strayed too far from reality.

The Witch raised her voice. "Tell me, what is your answer?"