Chapter 54
Attack by an Unknown Assailant
The largest church in Bern City—
Polvern Cathedral.
It wasn’t Sunday, and it was early morning, so the chapel was nearly empty.
Aside from a single woman seated on a pew near the front, there was no sign of life.
She sat with her hands clasped, praying toward the silver cross standing on the altar.
Colored light streamed through stained glass high above, dust drifting lazily within it.
The chapel seemed wrapped in silence and peace.
But not for long.
Bang!
The doors burst open.
A man with narrow, rat-like eyes strode in, scanning his surroundings as he approached the altar.
He wore a silk doublet, tight-fitting tights, and pointed shoes.
A long velvet cloak flowed behind him.
Even after spotting the praying woman, he made no effort to hide his footsteps.
Instead, he deliberately made more noise, glaring at the silver cross.
“Beautiful as ever, this place.”
His voice was sharp and mocking, echoing through the chapel.
He dropped himself onto the pew beside the woman.
“How long are you going to keep up that ridiculous act? You don’t even have faith.”
“I may not have faith, but belief is necessary.”
The woman opened her eyes.
She looked like an ordinary city woman, but her features carried a noble elegance.
Her brown eyes didn’t turn to the man—they remained fixed on the drifting dust in the light.
“You heard the news?”
“Baris is dead.”
“Any guesses?”
“It’s a method I’ve never seen. We investigated thoroughly—no witnesses, no suspects.”
“And the message on the parchment? Could that Goethe brat be involved?”
“I’m still investigating. Nothing certain yet.”
“How impressive.”
“…And—”
“And?”
“One of our swordsmen seems to have been taken by the Goethe family.”
“…Are you sure?”
“He was seen being dragged from the slums by a soldier escorting Goethe’s eldest son. Witnesses at the gates saw him taken toward the Goethe estate.”
Silence fell heavily.
“…Kill him.”
The man’s voice was cold.
“But he has a daughter.”
“Kill him. That’s certain.”
“My lord, please reconsider—”
“Weissman.”
The Marquis grabbed her chin.
“No—Violet. If I say kill him, you kill him.”
He forced a kiss on her.
She didn’t resist—didn’t even close her eyes.
“Just do as I say. Crawl if I tell you to crawl, bark if I tell you to bark. Then you’ll get what you want.”
“…Understood.”
“You should be grateful I have some sense of chivalry. Otherwise, I’d have stripped you naked in front of priests every time you talked back.”
“Yes.”
She didn’t avert her gaze.
“Smile. Before I tear your mouth open.”
She forced a smile.
“When this is over, I’ll take you as my concubine. You’ll live in a grand mansion instead of playing madam under a pimp. You can even take in your pitiful people. So do your job properly… understood, witch of the revolution?”
“…Yes. But before that, may I ask something?”
“Speak.”
“Will we truly gain the city’s autonomy?”
“Have I ever failed?”
“…No.”
“Then stop talking nonsense and give your future husband a proper farewell kiss.”
She kissed his cheek with dry lips.
“Cold as stone.”
The Marquis pushed her away and left.
Her clenched fists trembled.
Her hair fluttered violently—despite no wind.
“Palici.”
“Yes, Commissioner.”
A man stepped out from behind a pillar, wearing a worn cloak and carrying a sword.
“Stop calling me that. Violet is enough.”
“It’s a habit, Commissioner.”
“You heard him?”
“Shall I carry it out?”
“No. Rescue comes first. But if that’s not possible… make it painless.”
The man nodded.
Meanwhile…
“Is that really true?”
“At least from what I saw.”
“Hah.”
The captain of the Goethe estate guards was playing cards with Carlson.
They were stationed there to prevent an assassination attempt on the captured swordsman.
At least, that’s what the captain believed.
Isaac had secretly ordered Carlson to capture the assassin alive.
“…Pull them all out… teeth, balls… you bastards… won’t get anything… from me…”
Even after having all ten fingernails torn out, the swordsman refused to talk.
“Persistent bastard.”
The captain clicked his tongue.
“So you’re saying a twelve-year-old boy stood surrounded by hell wolves, stayed calm, killed one, and raised morale? Damn it—I’m losing this hand.”
He threw down his cards.
“Are you sure you didn’t become a bard? You exaggerate like one.”
“….”
Carlson stared silently.
“…Well, it does sound like a hero’s tale.”
“You were the one praising his swordsmanship.”
“That’s different from fighting monsters.”
“Believe what you want. I have no reason to lie.”
They continued playing.
“Reminds me of Winterband. Sometimes a week felt like a day, sometimes a day like a week.”
“…Yeah.”
“You’ve changed.”
“Have I?”
“You talk more now—especially about Isaac.”
Carlson revealed his cards and pushed forward all his coins.
The captain smirked and matched the bet.
“…You’re rushing it.”
He revealed his cards—
a winning hand.
Carlson’s expression turned cold.
“…Why are you looking at me like that? You shuffled.”
The captain laughed nervously.
Carlson slowly reached for his sword.
“…You’re not serious over thirty coins, right?”
Before he could finish—
Clang!
Carlson swung his sword.
A dagger clattered to the ground—deflected mid-air.
“…You insane—!?”
Sweat formed on the captain’s forehead.
“That almost killed me…”
“It’s here.”
Carlson’s eyes sharpened.
At the prison entrance stood a cloaked figure.
Even Carlson hadn’t sensed him.
A master.
The man held a falchion and dagger.
Scrrrk—
He dragged the blade along the stone wall, cutting down torches one by one.
Darkness swallowed the corridor.
Then—
He charged.
Clang!
The captain was blown back instantly.
Carlson’s strike was blocked.
The assassin swung again—more torches fell.
Darkness.
Only flashes of steel remained.
The captain froze.
This was beyond him.
The pressure—the sharp aura—he recognized it from war.
He couldn’t interfere.
Then—
“Carlson! Why is it dark?”
Isaac appeared, holding a lantern.
“Assassin! Run—!”
Thud!
The captain collapsed, struck unconscious.
“He’s going for you!”
Carlson shouted.
The assassin rushed toward Isaac, intending to take him hostage.
But—
“…!?”
Time seemed to slow.
The boy’s eyes glowed golden.
Not gold—something wilder.
Instinct screamed danger.
His body slowed.
Isaac drew his sword smoothly—without hesitation.
This is a trap.
The assassin released his aura.
His blade glowed blue.
Clang!
Their swords collided—
Isaac’s blade shattered.
But it bought time.
Thud!
Carlson struck from behind.
The assassin collapsed.
