The Porter Has No Interest in the Hero’s Party

“W-what does this mean?”

“W-what has happened to Count Meindal?”

“There! Open the gate! We need to enter!”

The same words can sound like a blessing to some and a warning to others. What we felt was a celebratory salute announcing the success of our mission seemed to sound like a funeral gun consoling the end of the world to someone else. Soldiers were slowly gathering in front of the gate with spears and swords, and Ashuria pushed me toward the warehouse, saying:

“It’s difficult to subdue all these people while protecting you too. Go to the warehouse.”

She tightened her bandages and adjusted her knuckle dusters. The helmeted soldier at the front, seeing Ashuria’s silent combat stance, sweated profusely and shouted:

“O-open the gate! We need to find out what has happened to Count Meindal!”

Ashuria seemed to have judged that overpowering them with force would be easier than giving the soldiers a kind explanation. With her two hands, which were probably given by God for prayer, she clenched her fists and lowered her body. Her clearly combative attitude sharpened the atmosphere further, and the soldiers, though hesitant, pointed their spears at us while rolling their eyes.

The soldier glared at Ashuria, sweating profusely.

Ashuria moved her feet, wiggling her fingers as if saying ‘come anytime.’ Every time she drew a large trajectory as if sweeping across a sandy beach, dust rose from the floor.

The soldier gritted his teeth, and I quickly darted toward the warehouse like a little mouse. The standoff between Ashuria and the soldiers looked more dramatic and precarious the closer I got to the warehouse. It was just a nun with knuckle dusters facing hundreds of armed soldiers, but it felt like the soldiers were the ones being surrounded.

In that precarious moment.

I threw my body onto a pile of straw and prepared to close the door at any time.

In the tense atmosphere where a distorted scream or a wrong gesture could lead to tragedy, we held our equipment tightly and held our breath, unable to even make a loud sound.

Ashuria kept rolling her eyes and looking up at the castle, and the soldiers flinched whenever she looked away, gauging when to rush in.

“Everyone lower your weapons!”

This blood-chilling standoff continued until a general with a robust physique, standing on the castle battlement, resolved the situation. Ashuria, who seemed unwilling to beat innocent soldiers, took off her knuckle dusters while breathing heavily, and the soldiers lowered their weapons, murmuring.

Count Ullie had the intimidating presence to command soldiers with just one shout.

The soldiers transformed into obedient beings who first followed orders and only then asked for reasons, looking up to Count Ullie. The man standing at the front of the soldiers said:

“Count Ullie! What exactly is happening inside? Why do we hear the screams of our Count Meindal and Baron Luke, and why are members of the hero’s party, who should be our allies, blocking our advance!”

Count Ullie’s angular face looked even more artificial in the dim light. He took a deep breath like a bull before a fight and inflated his lungs.

His booming voice resonated through the castle.

“Count Meindal and! Baron Luke have been! Arrested on charges of communicating with the Demon King’s army! They secretly communicated with the Demon King’s army currently in confrontation, seeking their own survival, and were trying to sell out the kingdom’s people and territory they were supposed to protect! Here! There is official evidence investigated by the royal palace! There are witnesses who saw Count Meindal in contact with demon spies! And testimony from Baron Luke’s servants about his suspicious activities has been secured!

They admitted and confessed their crimes! Evidence has even emerged that they tried to smuggle out at least their families with letters hidden in their bosoms! Is there anyone who would defend traitors! If you have no intention of joining the traitors, drop your weapons and follow our orders! According to the royal decree, I, Count Ullie, have been delegated the command of this fortress!”

As if they had been waiting, the sound of spears dropping was heard. Some nodded, sighing with relief, and others were confused upon hearing the news of Count Meindal’s betrayal. Count Ullie shouted:

“If you are soldiers, act like soldiers! Traitors will be punished according to the kingdom’s rules, and we must face our enemies!”

There was nothing wrong with the count’s outcry. The soldiers moved and collected their equipment in perfect order. Though expressions of confusion and relief still overlapped on their faces, everyone knew their minds would be settled by tomorrow.

I cautiously peeked out, checking the situation, and then walked back towards Ashuria. She loosened her knuckle dusters and said to me:

“What are you doing? You could have just slept there. I’m not injured.”

Though speaking in a cool tone, she slightly scanned my body to check if there were any areas that needed treatment. I intentionally jumped in place and spread my arms to show I was fine, and only then did she nod and try to put away her knuckle dusters.

I extended my hand to prevent her from disarming. Ashuria looked at me with narrowed brows as if asking why, and I smiled and said:

“I was thinking after hearing Count Ullie’s story just now.”

“What is it?”

“How do you think Count Meindal communicated? It would have been difficult to establish a separate communication line with the demons.”

Ashuria shook her head. She was an expert in turning demon worshippers into cross marks, not an expert in using her head in such matters. I looked around the fortress and said:

“There must be someone who delivers messages to the Demon King’s army under Count Meindal’s orders. By some method.”

Ashuria’s eyes lit up. When her black eyes sparkled, they looked even blacker, sending a chill down my spine.

A dark forest where even wild beasts held their breath. Breaking through the twigs diagonally leaning on the fortress walls, a man was climbing a rock with a bow on his back. Due to the bare trees and dark shadows, his moving figure sometimes felt like an illusion left by fatigue or an afterimage of seeing a bright flame.

The man stepped up invisible rock edges as if he had done this many times before, moving to a point where the fortress was not visible. After reaching a point where the fortress walls and rocks perfectly concealed his body, he took out a pen and paper from his pocket.

He quickly wrote content on the paper, checking his surroundings, and tried to tie the note to the tip of an arrow.

“Right. In such a confrontational situation, nothing beats an arrow for secret communication.”

But his movement froze at the low voice from behind his back. Barely turning his head, he saw a man smiling and a nun with a hardened face loosening her hands.

“It’s not like Count Meindal could use telepathy, so how could they communicate? Communication was possible because he bribed some of his subordinates to betray together. What did you agree to receive in exchange for shooting letters to the demons?”

“I… mmph!”

But the man did not hear the soldier’s answer. The smiling man hardened his expression and kicked the soldier in the solar plexus. The armor dented, crushing the chest flesh. The soldier rolled on the ground, squeezing his head in suffocating pain.

“Urgh…! Khhh…!”

“Honestly, I’m not even curious about what you agreed to receive. You probably agreed to receive money. Was it so enjoyable to sell out your country for treasures? To the point where even after Count Meindal was captured, you thought you should complete your final mission?”

“I-I’m sorry…!”

The man once again pressed his foot on the soldier’s chest. Under the pressure of his leg, the armor increasingly dug into the soldier’s flesh, and blood seeped into the fabric.

“Ah…! It hurts…! Urgh…!”

The man picked up the note that had fallen to the ground and checked its contents.

[Count Meindal. Baron Luke. Captured. Operation cancelled. I would appreciate it if you could secure my share.]

The thoughts of a petty person do not escape the palm of the hand. The man found the contradictory expectation in the letter written by the soldier more ridiculous than the soldier’s ugly behavior. Not thinking the kingdom would win, yet believing demons would keep their promises. The man asked, tucking away the paper:

“Are there more? Who else is there?”

“N-no one…!”

The soldier shook his head back and forth in pain. The man believed the soldier’s words.

There was no reason to use 2 or 3 people for such a simple yet covert liaison. It was just a job of occasionally shooting arrows and retrieving incoming ones.

Using multiple soldiers would increase the risk.

One fool who believed that gold and silver would come in just for doing such a simple job was enough.

The man applied more force to his foot. Like throwing a metal plate into mud, the dented armor dug into the soldier’s flesh. The sound of flesh tearing and the flapping movement like a freshwater fish dropped on the riverbank caught his eye.

“Ah…! Aaaagh…! Aaaagh…! P-please spare me…! P-please…! Ah, aaaah…!”

The soldier, flapping in pain, shed tears and begged for mercy. There was no chance of survival for him with the metal plate already half embedded. The man rubbed the rattling metal plate once with the edge of his foot each time he stepped on it, then removed his foot.

“Ah…! Urgh…!”

The soldier sighed in relief just from the weight pressing down from above being gone. The soldier looked at the nun standing behind the man with a strange expectation, and the man, alternately looking at the soldier’s gaze and the nun, sneered and pushed the soldier’s body with his foot.

“Uh… uhh…! N-no…!”

The man was not kind enough to stop at the word “no.” The soldier, unable to scream properly due to injured lungs, collided with twigs and protruding rocks, rolling down the cliff like a falling rock.

The man then turned around and said:

“Let’s go now. Now that we know how they communicate and have killed the messenger, we just need to imitate this handwriting and craft an appropriate message.”

Ashuria was blankly staring at the man. The man didn’t mind that expression of hers. An expression mixed with surprise about oneself is good nourishment for self-esteem. The man said:

“You can praise me. I was quite cool.”

“You’re more sadistic than I thought. I see you in a new light.”

The man couldn’t tell whether this statement from Ashuria, who was smiling with satisfaction, was praise or not.