Chapter 6

Komoy Fort.

Bevis Elliot received a letter delivered by a knight sent by Duke Bass Riches.

The letter said that producing salt by drying seawater promised enormous profits.

The Cogit Sea lay within Visas territory, like a gold mine waiting to be excavated. Yet the rights to mine that gold mine were not in his hands.

Only Cyrus Desinia remained of the Desinia Family. If anything happened to him, Visas would surely be reclaimed by the king. Then it could be taken for himself...

"I understand what the duke means. I will handle this matter for him, but carrying out a plan against another count... I would be taking no small risk."

Bevis Elliot had an ordinary face, with a broad forehead and a flat nose. Though he was in the prime of his life, his hair was already thinning badly. Dark circles ringed his eyes, and his face often carried the weary look of someone who lacked sleep.

What he was most famous for in Komoy Fort was the number of mistresses he acquired every year.

The knight delivering the letter said, "Once this is done, the duke will incorporate Par Mountain into Komoy Fort's territory and promise Your Excellency ten percent of the profits from salt sales."

Bevis Elliot beamed. "The duke truly is generous."

After he assured the knight once more that the matter would be handled as the duke wished, the knight left Komoy Fort and returned to the royal capital to report.

The steward said behind him, "My lord, the other party is a count after all. What if..."

Bevis Elliot sneered. "He is only a six-year-old child. Even if he was lucky enough to possess a 'treasure,' that depends on whether he has the ability to keep it."

"Old Desinia died too early. I am merely being kind, letting father and son reunite in the Creator God's embrace sooner."

The steward said, "Your lordship is right."

Bevis Elliot said, "Have a small squad of knights disguise themselves as bandits and lie in ambush at Par Mountain. Once it is done, I will reward them with half a chest of gold coins."

"Yes, Count."

The Desinia convoy made its slow return journey and finally passed through Par Mountain once more.

Beyond the mountain lay Visas.

Cyrus leaned against the carriage window, watching the scenery gradually pass by outside.

Par Mountain retained the characteristics of an untamed mountain forest—tall, lush trees and countless wild animals among the woods.

The southeastern side of the mountain lay between Visas and Komoy Fort. It was usually one of the sources of livelihood for commoners from both cities, who hunted and gathered firewood there. It was also a hunting ground for nobles.

An old book friend I had known for ten years recommended a reading app to me. It was damn useful—I used its read-aloud feature to pass the time while driving or before bed. You could download it here.

There was a small lake on the mountain—Par Lake.

Beyond Par Lake lay the northwestern side of the mountain. Few people went there. It was said that brown bears often appeared there, and the terrain was even more complicated.

The Natural Asphalt mine was buried in a valley on the northwestern side.

Cyrus was mentally going over the preparations needed before excavating the asphalt mine when he suddenly heard startled shouts from the knights ahead. Immediately afterward, the moving carriage came to a violent stop and lurched sharply.

If Judas had not reacted quickly and caught him around the waist, he would have fallen straight out the carriage window.

"What is going on?!" Cyrus asked, one hand braced against the carriage wall.

The coachman cried out in panic, "Count, run! Bandits!"

The sun was setting, and dusky twilight gradually descended.

They were now in the heart of the mountain forest. Their path ahead was blocked, and their retreat had been cut off. The situation was far from promising.

The "bandits" seemed to have received word in advance. They waited until the convoy entered their prepared "encirclement" before suddenly charging out to reap lives.

Like grim reapers walking through the twilight, they swept forward amid heavy shadows. They moved with astonishing speed, killing the knights guarding the carriage in the blink of an eye before turning on the coachmen trying to flee.

Judas clutched Cyrus and tumbled awkwardly out of the carriage.

Kelly screamed and fell to the ground, but she was fortunate enough to evade the blade slashing toward her.

The "bandits" had their heads and faces tightly wrapped in black cloth, revealing only their eyes. They wore thick leather armor that could ward off attacks, and most carried swords or scimitars.

They moved without a sound, yet coordinated with one another flawlessly.

—They were not bandits!

At the very least, they were not ordinary bandits.

Cyrus was shielded by the knights rushing over from behind. In the gaps between Judas carrying him and dodging attacks, he calmly analyzed the situation—who wanted him dead?

The attacking "bandits" clearly outnumbered the knights in his convoy. On top of that, this had obviously been premeditated, and the group had been scattered from the first charge.

After Kelly tried to evade a sword thrust at her, lost her footing, and rolled down the slope, another sword stabbed toward Cyrus.

Judas turned while holding him, intending to shield him with his back.

Cyrus could almost feel the sharp, cold edge unique to iron weapons rushing at his face. The smooth blade reflected a blurred image, while the faint scent of blood drilled straight into his nose...

At that critical moment.

Cyrus forcefully shoved Judas away.

He fell to the ground, while Judas's body tilted aside and escaped the danger.

"Count!"

The "bandit's" missed strike smashed into the ground, sending dirt flying. Without pausing, he ruthlessly thrust at Cyrus again the next instant.

With a loud clang—

The weapon stabbing toward him was blocked by a greatsword.

The reason Fernandi Edward had become captain of the knights at such a young age, earned enough merit to soon be granted a title, was his unmatched martial prowess and extraordinary courage.

He could fight a small squad of knights alone, and he was stronger and more powerfully built than most men.

The instant the "bandits" closed in, Fernandi Edward seized one of their weapons barehanded and successfully killed him in return. His unstoppable attacks won the knights and craftsmen behind him a chance to catch their breath.

Fernandi Edward saw Cyrus forcefully push Judas away and heard Judas's frightened, panicked cry.

He rushed over and knocked the sword aside.

"Find somewhere safe and hide, quickly!" Fernandi Edward shouted.

Cyrus wanted to find somewhere safe to hide too.

But this group of "bandits" was mainly after him. Someone came at him almost every moment, taking turns trying to kill him. How could he possibly have a chance to escape...

These "bandits" were determined to kill them all on Par Mountain. Blood had already stained the ground red, night was approaching, and the murderous scent in the air grew ever thicker.

Kelly's fate was unknown. Half the craftsmen and knights had been killed or wounded, and Judas's left arm had been stabbed...

Cyrus gritted his teeth. This could not continue.

He used the last faint traces of daylight to examine his surroundings...

"Fernandi Edward! Please save them!"

The childish voice seemed to tear through the night sky.

Fernandi Edward froze. Turning around, he saw the tiny figure slip through an opening, narrowly evade a scimitar, then lose his footing and roll down the steep slope...

"Count!"

The last thing Cyrus heard was Judas's hoarse, desperate cry.

He curled his small body tightly together and protected his head with both hands, enduring the pain of thorny brush and loose stones scraping against his skin while doing his best to control the direction of his fall.

Cyrus had jumped down deliberately.

Most of the mountain road on either side of Par Mountain was bordered by winding, steep slopes. It was already late, and everything below was dark beyond sight.

He had jumped willingly because he wanted to gamble on a chance to survive.

The world before Cyrus's eyes spun without pause. Just as his head grew dizzy and nauseated, his rolling gradually slowed to a stop.

He lay in the grass, breathing weakly. His exposed hands and feet throbbed with pain, covered in cuts from blades of grass and swollen bruises from impacts with loose stones.

His right arm hurt especially badly. It seemed to have struck something and was slightly dislocated. He could not lift it now.

Fortunately, it was not his leg.

Cyrus bitterly amused himself with the thought. Otherwise, he would not even be able to stand, much less escape.

After taking two deep breaths.

Cyrus supported himself to his feet with one arm. His vision went black for a moment. After recovering slightly, he chose a direction and limped away.

But he was still too young.

Before long, he felt his strength gradually draining away, and his vision began to blur.

No, he could not collapse.

He had to run a little farther.

Cyrus repeated the words over and over in his heart, but his foot caught on something, and he fell to the ground.

"...A little noble?"

Just before losing consciousness, he heard a young man's startled, doubtful voice.

Gibran Kino depended on each other with his younger brother Toby Kino, living on the poorest outskirts of Visas.

His brother Toby was nine years younger than him.

To support them both and keep food on the table, Gibran Kino not only helped people verify currency at the market every ten days, but sometimes went alone to Par Mountain to set traps for small animals such as wild rabbits.

He had been unlucky since morning.

The hoe he had brought broke. The traps he had painstakingly set malfunctioned, allowing the rabbits to escape, and after that, no prey came near his watch.

Gibran Kino was anxious. Without prey to sell, he would have no money to support himself. He would have to endure several hungry days, rationing what little he had until the market reopened.

After all, making a trip to Par Mountain was not easy.

He had temporarily entrusted Toby to Aunt Tana next door, then entered the mountain on foot with enough food and water. He had already spent two days and one night on the mountain.

Tonight was the last night. He had eaten all his food, and if he still failed to catch anything, he could only return empty-handed tomorrow.

Therefore, Gibran Kino went a little deeper into Par Mountain, but he still found nothing.

But just as he was planning to find a safe cave or rest in a tree for the night, he unexpectedly encountered the little noble he had seen at the market before.

The small child should have been only a little older than Toby.

Yet he was now covered in wounds, lying pitifully before him.

Gibran Kino hurried over and picked up the little noble. Guessing that something bad had happened to him, he saw the child's round little face covered in dirt, his eyes shut as he lay unconscious.

There was no one nearby, and it was so dark that he could not even see the path down the mountain.

Gibran Kino muttered, "...I can only return to Visas after dawn tomorrow."

He looked down at the little noble in his arms and sighed. "I hope you can make it through the night."

Before leaving, Gibran Kino covered the traces left by the little noble.

He found a safe cave and covered its entrance with thorny brush and dry branches for concealment and camouflage.

Other than a broken hoe, Gibran Kino had only water with him. After gently laying the little noble on the ground, he fed him a few mouthfuls of water. Remembering how cold the mountain became at night, he took off his thin outer garment and covered the child's small body with it.

Gibran Kino rubbed his hands together and breathed warm air into them.

He kept watch at the cave entrance, checking on the little noble from time to time. In that dazed state, he endured until dawn.