Episode 35

Returning to the spot from earlier, Igon saw the man leaning against the wall, spreading his arms wide when he saw Igon approaching.

“My goodness, how have you been? You look so…!”

Before the man could finish his sentence, Igon strode over and kicked him in the stomach.

With a dull thud, the man fell backward onto the ground before he could say anything else.

The surrounding people murmured in shock.

Standing upright, Igon ran his hand through his hair.

Then, without hesitation, he lifted his foot and kicked the man in the face.

“Ugh!”

The man coughed up something and collapsed.

The murmuring around them grew louder.

Someone shouted, but even the drunken men who had no fear didn’t dare approach Igon.

Standing there with a terrifyingly calm demeanor, Igon exuded an aura of cold menace.

He walked forward slowly and stood in front of the man.

The man, trying to get up, was shaking his head and leaning on the ground.

Igon firmly stepped on the man’s hand.

Crack.

There was a sound of something breaking, followed by a horrible scream from the man.

Igon kicked the dagger lying under the man’s hand away and smirked at him disdainfully.

“Grohl Tesep.”

Looking down at Grohl crawling on the ground like a worm, Igon’s eyes were cold.

“Stand up.”

His low voice reverberated.

“Get up.”

Igon lifted his foot off the man’s hand and commanded authoritatively.

Groaning in pain, the man tried to stand, moving awkwardly.

Too slow.

Igon sighed slightly.

He had no desire to touch the dirty man soaked in alcohol and sweat, but he had no choice; time was of the essence.

“You haven’t changed at all.”

Igon said, his voice dripping with disdain.

Grohl, still struggling to stand, glanced up at Igon with a mix of fear and anger.

“Why…why are you doing this?”

Grohl stammered.

“You know why,” Igon replied coldly. “You always knew.”

Grohl’s face twisted in a mix of pain and realization.

“I…I didn’t mean to…”

Igon didn’t let him finish.

“You didn’t mean to, but you did. And now, you pay the price.”

Grohl, finally on his feet, swayed slightly but managed to stand upright.

“What do you want from me?”

Igon stepped closer, his face inches from Grohl’s.

“Information. And you’re going to give it to me, one way or another.”

Grohl gulped, realizing the seriousness in Igon’s eyes.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything about the north. The situation, the leaders, the beasts. Every detail.”

Grohl nodded shakily. “I’ll tell you…everything.”

“Good,” Igon said, stepping back. “And if you lie, I’ll know.”

Grohl nodded again, the fear evident in his eyes.

Igon glanced around at the onlookers. “Move along. There’s nothing to see here.”

The crowd dispersed quickly, not wanting to be involved in whatever was happening.

Igon turned back to Grohl.

“Let’s go somewhere more private. We have much to discuss.”

Grohl, still clutching his broken hand, followed Igon as they moved away from the market, the tension between them palpable.

Igon grabbed the man’s collar and lifted him.

The hefty man was effortlessly hoisted into the air.

Igon dragged him by the collar into a dark alley where no one passed by.

He threw the man into the alley and dusted off his hands.

Grohl coughed, rubbing the neck that had just been gripped.

Gasping for breath, he looked up at Igon.

“What is this…?”

“Did you think that just because I wasn’t looking for you, I knew nothing?”

Foolish.

Igon clicked his tongue softly.

“Is this the Count’s order?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

Pretending ignorance even now?

Igon hadn’t anticipated this level of stubbornness.

“I know everything. You just need to confirm it.”

“I don’t understand what you think you know. I was just happy to see the Duke after such a long time…”

“Do I need to scold you for your rudeness on top of your crimes?”

Igon’s voice echoed through the alley.

“Do you still see traces of a child in me?”

Grohl looked up at the sturdy young man standing with the moon behind him.

The man standing before him, expressionless and upright, radiated a fierce intimidation.

Despite the hot and humid summer night, a chill ran down Grohl’s spine.

It had been like this from the moment they first met.

There could be no one else in this rural area with such a demeanor, and Grohl wondered if he had approached the wrong person.

The portrait sent by his client hadn’t captured this sharp, blade-like aura.

‘Is that really the same boy?’

Grohl remembered the young Igon.

The beautiful boy, despite his uncharacteristic ambition and competitive nature, was otherwise no different from other noble scions.

He had been an aloof and sensitive youth.

Grohl recalled seeing the boy shivering in a corner on a late night when no one was watching.

The boy had once sent a desperate letter to the Emperor, the highest authority in the Empire, pleading for help.

Grohl had felt a cheap sympathy for that young noble.

In hindsight, it had been a pointless interference.

When the young boy cried while holding a sword, Grohl had consoled himself by thinking.

He’s the heir to a duchy, yet his fate is worse than mine, a commoner.’

One day, he had even advised the crying boy, saying.

‘You can’t survive in the north if you let your emotions control you.’

But now, as he faced Igon, Grohl realized how much had changed.

The fragile boy was gone, replaced by this formidable man.

“Igon… I swear, I didn’t mean any harm.”

Grohl stammered, still trying to rise.

Igon’s gaze was cold and unyielding.

“Then start talking. Who sent you? Why are you here?”

Grohl gulped, feeling the weight of Igon’s demand.

“It was the Count. He… he wanted information on your movements.”

“And you thought you could gather that by just stumbling into me at a festival?” Igon scoffed.

Grohl shook his head vigorously.

“No, no! I was supposed to just watch and report back. I didn’t expect… this.”

Igon stepped closer, his presence menacing.

“You will tell me everything you know. Every detail. And if I find out you’re holding anything back…”

“I won’t! I promise, I’ll tell you everything!”

Grohl pleaded, his voice trembling.

“Good,” Igon said, his tone icy. “Start now.”

Grohl began to speak, detailing everything he knew about the Count’s plans, the current state of affairs in the north, and any information he had gathered.

As he listened, Igon’s expression remained stern, absorbing every word.

Once Grohl finished, Igon nodded, his mind racing with the new information.

“You’ve done well to tell me this,” Igon said, his voice slightly softer.

“But remember, I’ll be watching. If you betray me again…”

“I won’t, I swear!” Grohl insisted.

“Good,” Igon replied, stepping back. “Now get out of here.”

Grohl, clutching his injured hand, scrambled to his feet and hurried away.

Igon watched him go, then turned his attention back to the festival. He needed to find Evelyn and ensure her safety.

Before Grohl’s personal issues came to light and he was expelled from the North, the young and noble lad had struggled to adapt to the harsh conditions there.

After leaving the North in disgrace, Grohl had never seen Igon again.

Of course, he had heard plenty about him.

In the Empire, it was nearly impossible not to hear rumors about Duke Rodore.

With each passing year, the rumors turned the boy into a hero.

Until he met Igon again like this, Grohl had thought that more than half of Igon’s reputed achievements were exaggerated.

He believed Igon had either benefited from his noble family or relied on his father’s legacy.

Nobles were known to create and exploit rumors.

Even the tales of him fighting on the front lines seemed partly fabricated.

Despite knowing the Rodore family’s rigid and honest nature, he still harbored doubts.

The boy he remembered had always been frightened.

But seeing him now, he realized that the rumors were no exaggeration.

The look in Igon’s eyes was one only those who had spent long years on the battlefield could possess.

Eyes that prioritized efficiency, calculating the quickest and easiest way to kill.

He wasn’t trying to intimidate or impose; it was simply ingrained in him, a part of his profession.

“When you were in the North, you knew that the late Duke’s meals were laced with the blood and flesh of magical beasts.”

Igon spoke of his father with a detached expression, as if talking about someone else.

Grohl froze.

It was a long-buried sin from his past.

The story that the old Duke had died of an illness was a cover to protect his honor.

In truth, he had been poisoned by a trusted subordinate with the blood and flesh of magical beasts, and when the intake ceased, his organs began to rot.

By the time he discovered the truth about his condition, it was too late to save him.

Unlike the remarkably calm Igon, Grohl jumped to his feet, shouting.

“That’s a lie… It’s a slander! Who said such a thing?”

Igon’s lips curled into a knowing smile.

He took out a dagger and tossed it into the air, catching it repeatedly.

The threatening gesture kept Grohl’s eyes fixed on the blade as he shook his head.

“Are you so curious about the name of the dead? Go ask them in hell.”

With that, Igon threw the dagger.

“Aaaargh!”

The blade whizzed past, slicing Grohl’s neck slightly and embedding itself into the wall before falling to the ground.

A thin red line appeared where the knife had grazed.

Had it been a bit closer, it would have lodged in his throat.

Seeing Grohl flinch, Igon smiled.

Did messengers of death smile like that?

Grohl felt an overwhelming weakness in his muscles.

He couldn’t believe how thoroughly intimidated he was.

Grohl shook his head in denial.

“Igon, you…you have no idea what you’re talking about!”

Grohl’s voice trembled.

“I know exactly what I’m talking about,” Igon said coldly. “And you will answer for your crimes.”

Grohl felt a surge of panic.

“Please, Igon… I didn’t mean for any of it to happen. It wasn’t my decision.”

“Then tell me who made the decision,” Igon demanded.

Grohl’s eyes darted around, searching for an escape, but there was none.

“The Count,” he finally whispered. “It was the Count who ordered it.”

Igon nodded slowly, taking in the information.

“And what does the Count plan now?”

“He…he wants control. He’s been gathering support to challenge your position. He sent me to watch you, to find any weaknesses.”

Igon’s eyes narrowed.

“And you thought you’d just casually gather information at a festival?”

“I…I didn’t think you’d be here,” Grohl stammered. “I thought I could blend in.”

“Clearly, you were wrong,” Igon said, his voice icy.

Grohl’s fear was palpable as he realized the severity of his situation. “Please, Igon… spare me. I’ll leave the Empire. You’ll never see me again.”

Igon considered the plea for a moment. “You will leave the Empire. But first, you will tell me everything about the Count’s plans.”

Grohl nodded vigorously. “I will. I promise.”

“Good,” Igon replied, turning away. “Now get out of my sight before I change my mind.”

Grohl didn’t need to be told twice. Clutching his injured hand, he scrambled to his feet and fled down the alley.

Igon watched him go, then turned his attention back to the festival. He needed to find Evelyn and ensure her safety.

Impossible.

It couldn’t be.

“It doesn’t matter if you deny it. What I know is the truth.”

Igon murmured, glaring at Grohl’s bewildered face.

He bent down to look Grohl in the eye.

“And I’m not interested in old affairs right now.”

Igon was not one to dwell on the past.

Once something happened, he moved on, dealing with it without lingering over things that couldn’t be changed.

“Why and for how much you mixed those things into the old Duke’s food isn’t my concern. What’s done is done, and he died because of it.”

“…Then what on earth…”

“What did the new Duran say?”

Duran.

At the mention of that name, Grohl involuntarily shuddered.

He couldn’t say a word, struck as if by a bolt of lightning.

Pathetic.

“Did he order you to take me down? To lure me in and then stab me?”

Igon let out a dry laugh.

The current Duran must be a fool.

He ridiculed the absent figure.

From the circumstances, it seemed that while Duran had commissioned the task, it was Grohl who had devised the plan.

No matter how foolish, Duran wouldn’t have told an archer to attack with a knife instead of a bow.

This showed just how much Grohl underestimated Igon.

“D-Duran has nothing to do with this. I was acting alone, hoping to steal some money…”

“Do you think I left your tongue attached to hear such a shitty excuse?”

Igon’s rough, unfiltered words burst out.

Despite his threats and coarse language, his face maintained an elegant glow.

“I plan to let you live even if you don’t spin lies.”

Grohl remained silent.

Igon slowly straightened up.

“Tell Duran to continue whatever he’s doing.”

He spoke, casting a contemptuous glance over Grohl from head to toe.

“Because ‘things like this’ won’t be enough.”

Grohl’s expression shifted as he processed Igon’s words.

Though, it didn’t seem like he fully understood.

As previously noted, he was quite dense.

Yet, he carried such overblown confidence.

That unwarranted confidence was almost amusing.

With his hands in his pockets, Igon looked down at Grohl.

“You thought you could handle me with this plan? You’re delusional.”

Grohl’s face contorted in a mix of fear and confusion.

“Igon… please…”

“I’ve heard enough,” Igon interrupted, his voice icy. “You and your master are outmatched. Tell Duran to try harder if he dares.”

Grohl’s fear was palpable, and he nodded, still on the ground.

“Now, get out of my sight,” Igon commanded.

Grohl scrambled to his feet, clutching his injured hand, and hurriedly fled the alley.

Igon watched him go, a mix of disdain and satisfaction in his eyes.

Then, he turned his attention back to the festival.

He needed to find Evelyn and ensure her safety.

TL/N: Advance Chapters Avalible