Chapter 208

Chapter 208

***

The villagers weren't even surprised, even as they cleared away the shepherd's corpse. Vilter and Rudy watched the scene silently.

The ones the villagers were actually paying attention to were the outsiders, Vilter and Rudy. This was because, despite their young age, they were dressed as travelers, and a sword hung at Rudy's waist.

Looking into the distance, the milky white fog hadn't completely lifted. Still, the sunlight settled more gently on their skin than it had in the early morning.

While some were clearing the corpse, others were just beginning their daily routines. Vilter approached a man heading somewhere with a hoe leaning on his shoulder and asked, "This is Bukelen Village, right?"

The man carrying the hoe gave Vilter and Rudy a once-over as if examining them, then nodded. "That's right."

"I heard there’s a pub."

"Over there."

The man wasn't particularly wary and pointed with his finger to show them. What his fingertip pointed at was an ordinary house with a small courtyard.

A pub was originally a place where people naturally gathered to drink at the home of the person who made the best alcohol in the village. Thus, it was a place where locals mainly gathered rather than outsiders. Vilter glanced at the pub and then asked again, "Do you know a man named Tire?"

"Tire? I’ve never heard of him. Ah, could it be that person? Someone wearing a hood who drops by the pub once in a while. He looks a bit dangerous, so I don't talk to him, but since he comes periodically, I just figured that’s how he is. He seemed to have known that shepherd for a long time."

"When was the last time he came?"

"Well, I wouldn't know that, but I’d think it’s about time for him to show up. But then again, since the shepherd is dead, would he even bother coming?"

Vilter thought the man named Tire was a strong suspect. Rudy felt the same.

Excluding the nonsense the shepherd had spoken last night, the only bit of actual information they had gained was that he frequently met with a man named Tire.

"If he’s the culprit, he won't be far away. He’d stand out even more in a place like this," Vilter whispered to Rudy.

But there was another unexpected group of people.

"About two days ago, three outsiders stopped by the pub. They were wearing monastic robes, but looking at their sleeves, it seemed they were wearing chainmail underneath. Armed monks. Their hoods were pulled down low, so I couldn't see their faces properly, but they all had swords at their waists. Just like you."

The man with the hoe spoke while looking at Rudy. Regardless of age, it seemed that if someone had a weapon at their waist, they were treated as an adult.

Carrying a sword meant, in other words, that the person was prepared to die anywhere at any time and was involved in such business. It was a different life from that of an ordinary farmer.

Of course, Rudy carried his sword somewhat against his will.

"Three outsiders?"

"Yes. Unlike you two, they looked to be a bit older. Perhaps in their early twenties? They also asked us something—whether we had heard of the Glass Bell."

They asked about the Glass Bell? Vilter was virtually certain that those three belonged to the Council of Six.

It seemed they had arrived ahead of him and were trying to did what Vilter intended to did.

However, since there was no Adventurer’s Guild in Kelbron, they too seemed to be having difficulty gathering information.

"Must be the Fairies. Anyway, at this rate, instead of them following us, aren't we the ones chasing them?" Rudy said.

"We have fallen behind. In any case, thank you for the information," Vilter expressed his gratitude.

At that, the farmer with the hoe wordlessly held out his hand. He was demanding payment for the information provided.

Vilter handed him a copper coin.

"If you give me one more, I’ll tell you something those three don't know."

Vilter looked back at Rudy. He wasn't exactly asking for permission, but Rudy didn't seem to object either. So, Vilter handed over another copper coin.

After receiving the second coin, the farmer spoke. "The Glass Bell isn't just one person. Though I don't know how many there are."

It was unexpected information. Not just one person?

"Are you serious?"

"Of course. Everyone living in Kelbron knows. The name Skat means 'So-and-so' here. In other words, it means 'Glass Bell So-and-so.' The outsiders seemed to think Skat was a real name. And I also go to the city occasionally to sell things, and I’ve heard the sound of glass bells from several locations simultaneously on foggy mornings. And several people died."

If you want local information, ask a local. A sentence Rudy had seen in a textbook came to mind. At the time, he had wondered why it said something so obvious, but experiencing it firsthand, he realized how easily it could be overlooked. If they hadn't asked, how would they have known Skat meant that?

"But aren't you afraid? With multiple killers wandering around," Rudy asked.

"It has nothing to do with us. All the people who die are children of the wolf."

"Children of the wolf?"

"I mean people who suddenly appeared one day without knowing their parents, without family, and without any ties. The shepherd who died today was one of them. They started appearing one by one about ten years ago, I think. The shepherd who died today suddenly appeared a few years ago and just started herding. The cows in the field have nothing to do with us. We don't even know whose they are. They’re called children of the wolf because everyone calls them that, so I do too. If you’re really curious about what it means, go look for that man named Tire. I’ve seen him hanging out with Gerom’s gang in the city of Gelinen."

"What is Gerom’s gang?"

"The kind of gang you find anywhere. Do you call them a thieves' guild in other places? But they don't seem professional enough to be called a thieves' guild. I don't know. To me, they’re just hoodlums. They call themselves a vigilante group, though."

"What does Tire look like?"

"He’s about this tall, with black hair, and his age is... He has severe pockmarks. You can't miss him once you see him. That's why he always walks around with his hood pulled down low."

Pockmarks referred to smallpox. People who suffered from smallpox as children and recovered often had many pitted scars on their faces.

"Do those three outsiders not know this?"

"They gave a gold coin to the village chief, who doesn't know anything, without asking me. They wasted their money."

"...Hahaha..." Rudy laughed awkwardly. A gold coin? And they got no information for it?

"We shouldn't underestimate them. They’re people who will find out somehow. They likely went to the city too, and they might gather more information there. Let’s hurry. We’ll be going now."

"Wait."

As Vilter was about to turn away, the farmer called out to him. Vilter wondered if he was asking for more money, but that wasn't it.

"There’s no need to dig up a grave just because you're curious about what a dead person looked like, young adventurer. Things of the past should be buried in the past. If you insist on digging them up, all you’ll see is a hideously rotting corpse along with the stench. There is no such thing as truth there."

At the farmer’s meaningful words, Vilter gave a faint smile.

"I’m not trying to dig anything up. I’m trying to catch a wanted criminal. If it's not one person but several, then I just have to catch several."

The farmer simply shrugged. It was Vilter’s business, and he meant he had nothing more to say about it.

Vilter and Rudy gave a slight bow to the farmer. The farmer also bowed to the two young boys.

As they walked their respective paths, the fog had now completely lifted, making the edge of the horizon clearly visible.

The city named Gelinen was a small town. It was a place where a market was held only on market days, and only then did it become a bustling village of sorts. There were only things like a currency exchange, an inn, and a notary office.

Consequently, it was a place where the locals had a strong influence, and in such places, there were bound to be gangs that collected protection money.

Gerom’s gang was just such a common gang. They weren't the type of people who ran 'businesses' like prostitution, gambling, or smuggling like thieves' guilds in large cities.

These people always had a place where they mainly gathered. It was a place like an abandoned shop where they stockpiled alcohol of unknown origin and either drank among themselves or rolled dice.

And such places were bound to be shady and dark. Just as rats have places that suit rats.

The women hanging around them like prostitutes weren't actually prostitutes, but rather the so-called 'fast' girls of the local area.

There was a man with one such girl sitting on his lap. His name was Gerom, and he was the leader of Gerom’s gang. He was a man with short hair, a thick neck, small eyes, and a large nose.

He spoke while looking at the dagger and jewelry placed on the table. The dagger had no particular decoration, but the craftsmanship of the handle, guard, and scabbard was quite excellent.

"Seems like the goods are getting poorer by the day."

"Draw it and see," said the person sitting across the table. His face was hard to recognize because his hood was pulled down low, but he couldn't hide all the pockmarks.

At the man's words, Gerom drew the dagger while still holding the girl. Although it was a dark place without proper light, a bluish hue clearly flowed from it. One could tell at a glance that its sharp edge was no ordinary thing.

"Last time it had fancy decorations, but this time it doesn't," the girl said.

As if it were absurd, the pockmarked man frowned. "Could you dismiss the woman and then negotiate?"

"No. I don't want to."

"..."

"Five silver coins for everything, including the jewelry."

"...It seems the amount is gradually decreasing. Is it just my imagination?"

"It's not your imagination. You’re right."

"Why?"

"Because I found out. This is stolen property, isn't it? Where else are you going to trade it if not with me?"

"...There are plenty of people to trade with besides you."

"Really? Then go sell it to them."

"..."

"Take the five silver coins and go, or take the jewelry and try somewhere else. But keep in mind that the journey won't be smooth."

Gerom spoke as he spread five silver coins across the table. The dagger looked like it should have fetched at least a gold coin.

"Don't you know who is behind me?"

"Just because you work under a noble family doesn't mean you're all that prestigious, does it? We don't have to fear a servant who cleans the latrines either. Right? And, do the lords of Kelbron know you’re secretly disposing of these items? They don't, do they? Should I go tell them? Tire."

Gerom said the man’s name. The pockmarked man was indeed Tire, the one who periodically met the shepherd.

It wasn't exactly clear what he did, but it was certain he was a wretched character, considering he traded stolen goods—and for less than their worth at that.

Tire thought in silence for a moment, then snatched up the five silver coins as if stealing them. Gerom chuckled.

Tire stood up immediately as if his business was over, and as he tried to stride out of the place, someone opened the door and entered, blocking his path.

Creeeak...

The person who appeared against the light was, strangely enough, wearing monastic robes. And two more followed behind him, all with swords at their waists.

They were armed monks. People who spent their time eating, praying, and training.

The monk who had entered first spoke to Tire. "Stay inside for a moment."

"Wh-who are you?"

The monk closed his mouth as if he wouldn't speak twice, and one of the three closed the door and stood guard there.

The members of Gerom’s gang all looked at the three monks with eyes that said What was this?, while the monks simply glanced around the interior. Then they approached Gerom, who clearly looked like the leader, and spoke.

"Do you know anything about the Glass Bell?"

At the monk’s question, Tire flinched. And Gerom remained silent for a moment as he tried to interpret the situation in his head.

"..."

"If you don't speak, I will kill you one by one. You will be the last to die, and it will be the most painful death. I ask again. Do you know anything about the Glass Bell?"

A characteristic of small-town gangs was risking their lives for useless pride, but Gerom felt it clearly. This armed monk was the real deal. If he said the wrong thing or did anything foolish, he would really die.

"I guess monks go around threatening people these days? How pathetic. Hey, you think anyone is going to be scared just because you’re carrying a sword? Here, we are kings and nobles, you hear?"

Whether she knew nothing or felt nothing, the girl Gerom was holding spoke up.

In that instant, a thin flash of light flickered in the dark place, and the girl’s head slid off.

Blood sprayed upwards, and Gerom, who had been holding her, was covered in it, trembling as he stared straight ahead. A sword was already held in the monk’s hand.

"Gah!"

"Eek!"

It was Gerom’s lackeys nearby who were shocked and scrambled away before Gerom could.

They tried to flee from the monk who had drawn his sword, but the other two were already guarding the front and back doors.

Swords were tied to their waists as well, and unless one was a fool, it was easy enough to predict what would happen if those were drawn.

So, the best everyone could did was stick to the walls and get as far away from the monks as possible.

Gerom was so terrified he could barely breathe, but the monk slowly raised his sword, pointed at the people, and spoke.

"Kill them starting from the right."

At that, the monk blocking the back door wordlessly drew his sword.

"W-wait! Wait! The Glass Bell! I know!"

It was then. The door opened once more. The one who appeared against the light this time was short and appeared to be a boy.

Everyone's heads turned toward him as if welcoming a savior, and the boy shouted after seeing the situation inside. "Stop!"

A young voice in this serious situation? Everyone was bewildered by what kind of situation this was, but something even more surprising happened next.

These terrifying monks sheathed their swords and knelt before the boy. And from one of them came shocking words.

"We greet the Crown Prince."

"Why are you doing this?"

"We are merely executing the resolution of the Council of Six."

"What is the resolution?"

"To protect the Crown Prince. To preemptively remove any individual, group, or force that threatens or could potentially threaten the Crown Prince. Tracking, surrounding management, and target removal are to be shared among each member of the Council of Six."

"Then couldn't innocent people be sacrificed? Is it right for monks to do such things?"

"Since it is the most difficult, dangerous, and dirty task, our monastic order has decided to take it upon ourselves."

"...It is no longer necessary, so withdraw," Vilter said firmly.

"We cannot do that."

"Why? What is the Council of Six? Is it above the Crown Prince?"

Vilter only had a vague knowledge of the Council of Six and did not know that his parents and uncles were members of it.

This was because the Council of Six was neither a law enforcement agency nor an official organization. Yet it wasn't a private organization either, and the reason it maintained such a bizarre method was so that there were no restrictions on its movements.

As a public institution, they would have to be conscious of people’s eyes and consider political and diplomatic issues, but the Council of Six had no such need.

"..."

"I asked if it is above the Crown Prince!" Vilter shouted, clenching his fists.

No matter how much they were executing the resolution of the Council of Six, they hadn't obtained the consent of the person involved. And when that person was the Crown Prince, things got a bit complicated.

"No, it is not. We will withdraw."

After the three monks answered that way, they quietly stood up and left through the back door. Silence fell, and as strength seemed to leave Gerom’s arms, the headless corpse of the woman slumped to the floor.

The people had no idea how to understand this situation. It would be more accurate to say their minds had gone blank.

It was then that Rudy, whose whereabouts had been unknown, arrived late on the scene.

"What's that sound? I thought I heard something about a Crown Prince—eek!"

Rudy was startled when he saw the headless corpse. And then he saw the fierce-looking men trembling as they looked at Vilter, wondering what on earth had happened.

"B-Billy, did you do that?" Rudy asked, pointing at the headless female corpse, since everyone was trembling in fear while looking at Vilter. Vilter shook his head.

"Then who?"

"The Fairies were here."

"What?"

"From now on, we really have to make our own way. Are you ready?"

"...In case you didn't know, I was never ready. You just pushed through recklessly."

"Good."

"Is it good?"

Vilter ignored Rudy, who was clinging to his side in shock, and spoke to Tire, who was covered in pockmarks.

He too was trembling against the wall along with the others. He knew who Vilter was now, having heard it earlier.

"Let’s talk for a moment. You know the shepherd of Bukelen Hill, right? Was it you who killed him?"

"......I-I cannot speak, I must not speak......"

He put his trembling hand into his shirt. He took out a small bundle of paper and shoved it into his mouth. Soon, he collapsed, foaming at the mouth.

"Wh-what’s wrong with him?"

It was a succession of such shocking events that Rudy felt like he was having a nightmare. It was the same for Gerom and his subordinates.

Vilter showed no change in expression. He approached Tire, who had killed himself, and searched him. Then, a small glass bell that looked like a Lily of the valley came out.

Looking down at it silently, Vilter spoke. "Since things have turned out this way, we have no choice but to meet the Count of Kelbron. Since he said he worked under the Count."

"...I’m still not ready, though."

"Let's go."

Vilter turned to leave.

A moment later, the monks returned to the hideout of Gerom’s gang. This was because they had found out who the Crown Prince was.

Judging that the mere fact of knowing the Crown Prince’s identity could be a threat, Gerom’s gang could not be allowed to live.

In an instant, blood was sprayed across the ceiling and walls, and the floor became so soaked it splashed. The monks appeared to have no particular reaction. It wasn't that they lacked emotions, but rather that they were, quite literally, just performing an execution.

"In any case, what should we do?"

"About what?"

"Did the Crown Prince not tell us to withdraw?"

"It can't be helped. We have no choice but to call that man, Roy."

"He isn't in the Inner Circle, is he?"

"It's a bit ambiguous, but he is the King's Champion, after all. His skill is reliable."

"His skill is reliable, but isn't he a bit careless?"

"The Crown Prince likely likes him because he’s careless."

"That’s true... The Master also tells us we don't need to be too rigid. It doesn't work out well, though."

"But what do we tell the Master?"

"Exactly what happened."

"Will he be disappointed...? Perhaps we are the ones who are careless."

"Could be."

After sharing this dry conversation, the monks left the scene. The site where a dozen or so corpses lay scattered looked far more cruel than anything the Glass Bell had done.