COTBC 51

COTBC

Posted by Aashi, Released on April 20, 2026

Chapter 51

A Highly Probable Future

Isaac’s long-distance spell had succeeded.

The ice crystal had likely pierced Baris’s left eye and reached his brain. From this distance, there was no way to confirm it directly, but news of Baris’s death would soon spread. Even if he were still alive, he would no longer be able to function as a human being—and it would serve as a sufficient warning to those coveting someone else’s city.

“……”

Isaac slowly pushed himself up, his body unsteady.

He had no strength left at all. Going down the spiral staircase of the tower, he nearly stumbled and fell several times. If he tumbled down the staircase without railings, he might follow Baris in death. Barely managing to steady himself with a hand on the wall, he descended step by step. Each step felt as if he might collapse.

“Phew.”

Finally reaching the ground, Isaac stopped for a moment and exhaled in relief. Then he headed back toward the chapel.

On the pews, Bill was still asleep in the exact same position Isaac had left him in before climbing the tower.

“Hey. Hey.”

Isaac nudged him with his foot.

“Huh… wha—what?”

Bill jolted awake, wiping dried saliva from his mouth.

“Let’s go.”
“Huh? Baris— wait…”

Bill lowered his voice before he could finish.

“The assassination?”
“It’s done.”

Isaac left the chapel calmly.

“W-what do you mean it’s done?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.”

Bill hurried after him, sensing something strange in the atmosphere of the city.

In the early dawn light, the city guard was moving in a frenzy.

“…Don’t tell me…”

Bill grabbed a guard he recognized.

It was someone he had bribed before at the bridge posts.

“Jerome.”
“Bill? You’re alive? I thought you were killed by the Weissman gang.”
“Do I look that easy to kill? Why is everything so chaotic this morning?”
“Later.”

The guard tried to push Bill away and rejoin the formation, but Bill quickly slipped him three silver coins.

“Ah… I’m not supposed to say this.”

The guard looked around nervously. Bill added two more coins.

Then the guard pulled him into an alley, checking repeatedly for eavesdroppers.

“You’re going to get me killed, you know that? Do you want me to tell my great-grandchildren about this? Hurry up and speak.”

Bill was getting impatient at the overly cautious behavior.

“The mayor is dead. Left eye completely pierced. Straight through the brain. Fourteen bodyguards were rotating shifts around him, servants were constantly nearby—and still he ended up like that.”
“……”

Bill’s mouth slowly opened.

“The funny part is no one knows what killed him. There was blood and brain matter everywhere, but the only foreign material found was a single straw. We’ve started calling it the ‘straw murder case’ as a joke…”

The guard continued, satisfied he had earned his money’s worth.

But Bill was no longer listening.

A cold sensation ran through his body as if drenched in ice water.

There was no doubt—it was Isaac.

But what he had done was beyond anything Bill could have imagined.

Could it really be… divine intervention?

Bill shook off the absurd thought and hurried after Isaac.

Earlier that morning

Carlson packed his belongings in his room.

He had stayed longer than expected.

He had come to complete Isaac’s order and also to check on Randolph’s family—but in truth, he felt as if he had been resting.

Perhaps it was the strong and kind nature of Madam Randolph. The children were similar. People of the same kind naturally gathered, perhaps.

Randolph had used part of his family’s land to build an inn in Bern City. Though newly established and more expensive than others, it quickly became popular.

Most inns crammed guests into straw beds across entire floors. But here, there were private rooms.

The bedding was clean. For someone like Carlson, who had only ever stayed in flea-infested inns, the beds felt almost too clean. There was no smell of old sweat or rotting fabric, only a faint scent of wildflowers.

The food was also excellent—proper meals made with fresh ingredients, not the usual boiled “leftover stew” most inns served.

All of it was possible thanks to sufficient funds and the lady’s diligent nature.

Even though it was still dark outside, the first floor was already busy.

Madam Randolph and the servants were working as always—cleaning floors, wiping tables, washing bedding, preparing meals. The children were helping too. They were likely more diligent than soldiers in a military camp.

“You’re up already?”
“Yes.”

Carlson replied briefly.

“Where are you going?”

Wolfgang, Randolph’s eldest son, spoke as he saw Carlson preparing his sword and pack.

“I’ve stayed longer than I expected. I should go back.”

Today might be a turning point.

Isaac had said he would assassinate the mayor before sunset. And not only that—he intended to do it without leaving any trace linking it to himself.

Was that even possible?

Carlson knew Isaac hid his magical abilities, and that his skill surpassed most noble mages. But even so, he didn’t know the limits. Only vaguely, from the incident where Isaac had turned a priest into ash.

Isaac’s success or failure didn’t matter most to Carlson. What mattered was how he should act afterward for his revenge.

That thought had kept him awake all night.

“Already leaving, uncle?”

Hermann, the younger brother, looked disappointed.

“Didn’t you even teach us swordsmanship properly?”

“As I said, you both still have choices.”

Carlson placed a hand on their shoulders.

Randolph often said he was a man bound by chains—loyalty, oath, land. He once said that if he were reborn, he would become a merchant and travel freely across the continent.

He wanted his children to live freely, not bound like him.

A rare kind of man for a commander. Not a typical knight.

“I want to protect Goethe like my father.”

“Wolfgang, Hermann—stop bothering him and come here!”

Their mother called.

“Yes!”

Hermann ran off immediately, but Wolfgang stayed behind.

“I know it’s ridiculous. I can’t become like my father. I don’t have talent.”

Carlson had taught them basic swordsmanship during his stay. Neither had much talent. Becoming a knight like Randolph would require extreme effort.

Still, Wolfgang understood his limits well.

“But I still want to live with honor like my father.”

Carlson looked at him.

Perhaps if Isaac’s assassination failed… staying here and teaching these children wouldn’t be a bad life. Maybe even traveling the world with them someday.

A meaningless thought.

He spoke.

“Wolfgang. Your father wanted Hermann to see a wider world. Serving the Count of Goethe is honorable—but your father also dreamed of freedom.”

“…Father did?”

“Whatever path you take, I know you’ll succeed. But walking the path your father could not—that is also a kind of honor.”

Wolfgang’s eyes wavered.

“Wolfgang! What are you doing?”

His mother called again.

“Thank you, uncle.”

Wolfgang nodded and ran off.

Carlson finally left—but not immediately. He sat at a corner table on the first floor and drank honey water.

He would wait.

If no news came by sunset, or if Isaac’s name was mentioned as the assassin, then Carlson would move immediately—toward Binfelt, then onward to Otton’s port city, and eventually to his enemy, Baron Botmer.

He considered Isaac’s possible failure.

Success seemed unlikely. Isaac was only twelve. A genius, yes—but only in magic. Not assassination.

Carlson thought more about what he would do if Isaac failed.

While lost in thought, Madam Randolph approached.

“You look tired. Another honey water?”

“No, just water please.”

At that moment, traveling merchants entered the inn.

They looked grim.

“The deal was canceled.”

“What happened?”

“The guarantor died.”

“Died?”