The noble residential area of La Merthion was heavily guarded. However, nobles also used the waterways, and the number of water channels flowing into and out of the noble district was significantly higher compared to other areas.
Thus, the underground waterways leading to the center of the noble district were as tangled as a spider’s web. Yet, Iron Side moved through them as if he had memorized every path.
– Splash.
The waterways didn’t just carry polluted wastewater.
A sticky, slimy, and foul stench.
The stench of decaying corpses flowed along with the water.
A smell so thick it made the ground feel slippery and your head spin.
“Ugh…”
Covering your nose and mouth with a hood wasn’t enough to endure this stench. But those present here were a god, a dragon, a knight, and Iron Side.
Mythical beings, mages, or at least individuals capable of wielding magic within their bodies. They silently moved forward, dealing with the walkers.
“Feels like I’ve become a janitor.”
“Why, isn’t it a good experience? When else would you, a noble lord, get to experience something like this? Let’s think of it as volunteer work.”
“First, I’m not a noble. Iron Side.”
– Slash.
The knight swung his sword, cutting off a walker’s head. He shook off the blade and spoke.
“And don’t speak to me first.”
“Touchy, aren’t we? Are you guys okay over there? The target isn’t far now.”
“I don’t need to worry. But… yeah. It’s disgusting.”
Abel looked with bitter eyes at the corpses floating down the muddy stream.
“We’ve dealt with over forty-nine wraiths. These wraiths… raised by vampires, they only last until their bodies fully decay. So, these corpses were made at least half a month… considering the winter, at least a couple of months ago.”
“Yeah. Fresh corpses.”
“Then, the one who caused this tragedy has been taking at least one life a day for the past couple of months. For a long time, skillfully.”
“…That’s right.”
At Abel’s words, Iron Side closed his eyes for a moment.
Abel placed her blade on the forehead of a twitching corpse and swiftly brought it down.
The corpse convulsed briefly before stopping. Abel let out a deep sigh and bowed her head.
“All living beings inevitably swallow other lives during their time alive. I’m not denying that…”
Even if they are vampires.
Not all vampires drink human blood by choice, and not all vampires became vampires by choice.
To borrow Fernandez’s tone, yes. There is room for consideration.
If they wander under the sewers, avoiding the sun in sorrow, occasionally seeking survival. It’s tragic, but understandable.
The human guardian dragon acknowledges that it’s not much different from the sins humans commit.
It’s a characteristic of the species. Just as a lion preying on an antelope isn’t a sin. It can be a target for eradication, but not for hatred.
However. These corpses… they’re filled with rotten blood. Their arms and legs bear deep wounds.
They’re limping not just from decay, but from wounds clearly inflicted while they were alive.
“Taking lives not for survival but for pleasure… it’s despicable.”
Abel pulled her blade from the corpse’s head and spoke. Her blue eyes were blazing.
She shook off her blade and led the way. Everyone present was overwhelmed by her aura and quietly followed.
Pausing briefly behind the iron bars, Iron Side carefully pulled out a lockpick.
With a clank, the old iron bars opened. A gust of hot air blew through.
“This passage leads to the lord’s residence. Everyone, we don’t know what might happen here. Let’s be careful.”
– Creak.
The old door opened with a chilling sound. A long corridor lit by gloomy torches appeared. A distinct smell of blood flowed through it.
– …
A faint sound was heard. In the middle of the corridor, small doors were ajar, and whispers could be heard.
No one here had senses weaker than an ordinary person. Everyone was pale with fear.
At least five doors lined this corridor, and from behind each came the sounds of pained moans and maddened murmurs.
The knight cautiously opened one door. It wasn’t locked.
“Daddy’s here. Hold daddy’s hand. My good girl. My girl.”
A man was sobbing, chained up. He was fumbling with something small and muttering.
The knight’s veins bulged. Extreme anger seemed to paralyze his reason. At that moment, Iron Side placed a hand on the knight’s shoulder.
– Grind.
The knight gritted his teeth and turned around. His eyes were bloodshot. Iron Side slowly shook his head.
“We can’t save them all and escape. Our target is only the lord.”
“Are you saying… to ignore… that sight?”
“Hey, Inner Circle sir. Haven’t we seen too many filthy scenes to talk about our sensibilities?”
The Inner Circle of the Dane Kingdom isn’t much different from the Empire’s Iron Side. Assassinations, terrorism, political maneuvers, and sabotage. Naturally, they had to handle the kingdom’s dirtiest secrets themselves.
Thus, they had to be accustomed to the most inhumane and despicable scenes. It was an era where demons laughed in every shadow.
If you turned your eyes away, even for a moment. Parents killing their children, children poisoning their parents—such scenes were almost routine.
Harsh exploitation, rampant bandits, spreading plagues, mad mages’ experiments, attacks by other races and monsters.
In such a world, tenant farmers and serfs were utterly powerless, and this level of tragedy was common across the feudal kingdoms of the Eastern Kingdom Alliance.
Thus, one had to get used to it. At her words, the knight lowered his gaze and growled.
“What can we do here? If it’s just about exposing this, we could return now without any issues.”
“At least we should take the lord’s head. We need evidence, don’t we?”
Iron Side spoke coldly. Mere eyewitness testimony couldn’t start a war. But bringing back the head of a vampire, especially a lord turned vampire, would change the story.
From that point, a holy war could be declared. The corruption of a lord is no small matter, and if it’s a grand lord, the impact would be significant.
Even without the backing of the Church of the Temple of the Gods, the Round Table Council of the Dane Kingdom holds a powerful tradition.
[The War of Pilgrimage]. A war where nobles and royals set aside their titles and fight as pilgrim knights. A war sworn to dedicate oneself to a greater cause beyond affiliation and status. A war that requires unanimous agreement from all Round Table knights.
In this era, it was a tradition in name only, with the last recorded War of Pilgrimage being 400 years ago. Yet, it was a tradition with deep roots, dating back to the first War of Pilgrimage led by the first Knight King Dane against the Church of the Underground Burial.
“So that’s why you requested our support.”
“Yes. To be honest… you’re right. King Vicente is someone who would gladly declare a holy war with even the smallest evidence.”
King Vicente’s influence over the Round Table Council had already surpassed that of a feudal kingdom. He was a hero who had achieved mythic status in his time, and the Round Table knights were knights first before being grand lords.
He was the king who had dealt with the schemes of a fallen witch, the resurrection of the legendary Church of the Underground Burial, and crushed the legions of the undead. His authority rivaled that of an absolute monarch, not just a feudal king.
There was no chance his declaration of a War of Pilgrimage would be rejected by the Round Table Council. It was a plan crafted after fully understanding the domestic situation. The knight let out a deep sigh.
‘It was a scheme using His Majesty’s will. But… should we refuse?’
The knight’s eyes fell on the man chained up.
His face was obscured by a thick beard and hair, but…
