HEO 8

The boy traced a cross in front of Wolf’s face with his dagger.

“You don’t seem to be good at distinguishing races. If you wander around enough, you’ll start to see the differences. Even the seven races within Atania look distinct from each other. Even among Stolls, half-breeds and purebloods look different. You’re definitely a pureblood Stoll. Especially that amber hue in your eyes, it’s famous as a rare color, even among the warrior class.”

Wolf was speechless. The boy was right; his parents were warriors. The warrior class refused to marry Atanians, insisting on purebloods. They believed purebloods had superior physiques, even if it meant risking the birth of mutants.

“You have good eyes. Without those eyes, you wouldn’t have dodged that spear even by luck. That spear the guy who got his jaw smashed was thrusting, didn’t it look slow as a sick mule to your eyes?”

“Not exactly… but… I could… just… see it.”

Wolf mumbled. He hadn’t even realized his own peripheral vision was exceptional until the boy pointed it out.

[Hey! What’s with all this chatter? It’s not like you!]

Bingapsu appeared out of nowhere and slapped the boy’s shoulder. The boy turned to glare at him.

[Speak Atania. These idiots are deaf to Stoll’s words.]

“Oh?”

Bingapsu was a man who looked to be in his early forties. His overall impression was as rough as the wolf pelt draped over his body. Dirty blond hair verging on brown. A massive build that made his nickname ‘Bingapsu’ understandable. Prominent brow ridges and nose bridge, a thick beard. Piercing gray eyes that seemed to see right through people.

The moment Red Eagle saw Bingapsu, he hurriedly hid behind Wolf. For the first time, Wolf cursed the god who gave humans eyes. Bingapsu’s appearance was that unbearable to look at. His entire body was covered in blood, and from his shoulder hung intestines, once responsible for someone’s digestion, now stretched out like a long sausage. On his left chest, a human eyeball clung like an egg yolk.

“Thank you for your help. This is Prince Red Eagle.”

Wolf stepped aside, trying to keep his voice calm as he introduced Red Eagle. Bingapsu scanned Red Eagle with narrowed eyes, then scowled. Wolf felt a sense of déjà vu in that expression. It resembled the way River Rat had constantly glared at Red Eagle.

So that was it.

Now he understood why River Rat had shown hostility toward Red Eagle. Red Eagle must have looked pathetic. Then again, it was hardly surprising that the prince, heir to the Stoll king’s bloodline, wouldn’t look good assimilated into the Atania civilization.

“Well… I see.”

Bingapsu flicked the eyeball clinging to his chest away with his fingertip.

“My name is ‘Valiant’ Black Weasel. You lot can call me Uncle.”

Unlike River Rat, he had a title. He was a man who had killed over a hundred.

Black Weasel turned.

“Follow me. We need to get out of here fast before the snow starts again.”

* * *

With Black Weasel leading the way, Wolf and Red Eagle walked on. Silver followed behind them. He positioned himself in front of and behind Red Eagle and Wolf. Preparing for a surprise attack.

[Damn it. I got covered in everything.]

Black Weasel grumbled in Stoll while swatting the entrails hanging from his shoulder. To that man clad in wolfskin, murder seemed as trivial as watering flowers in a garden. Wolf wanted to curse.

They’re mad. Everyone in this country has lost their minds.

Dozens had been stabbed to death in broad daylight, yet no cavalry appeared. The Stolls who had been watching the stabbing resumed haggling with the horse dealer as if nothing had happened. It was unimaginable in Atania.

He knew. Stoll wasn’t a nation governed by law. Until now, this had been common sense to Wolf, no different than knowing ‘bookshelves should be placed away from direct sunlight.’ But when that single line of knowledge took the form of slaughter and suddenly burst upon him, the actual scene surpassed his imagination. It made temple murals depicting hell look like peaceful rural farmhouses by comparison.

After sorting through his thoughts, Wolf spoke up.

“Warrior. About those men earlier… You know why they attacked the prince, right?”

“I know.”

Black Weasel strode off without looking back.

“They’ve been lurking here for a week. Mercenaries sent by Blue Eagle.”

“Blue Eagle?”

“Yes, the prince you serve’s older brother. Orange Dove.”

“……”

Wolf forced himself to keep his expression neutral. Black Weasel, seemingly unaware of any issue with his own words, continued his explanation.

“Half a year ago… the king was hunting when he was gored by a stag’s antlers. His torso was pierced through, leaving him barely clinging to life. That’s when his own children started a bloody feud. The king had been married three times. Even excluding the illegitimate children he’d banished to Atania, he had nineteen legitimate offspring. After ten days of fighting, only eight remained.”

Beads of sweat formed on Wolf’s temples. No way… No, please, let me be wrong.

“The eight bastards called a truce for now. While the siblings were fighting, the influential chieftains of Stoll’s tribes started eyeing the throne greedily. One of those chieftains is White Deer, Yellow Rooster’s mother.”

He wasn’t wrong. White Deer was the spark that ignited the bloody conflict just now.

Black Weasel grinned and turned back.

“If the prince had married the princess of Levenon, White Deer would have abandoned her ambitions. You can’t seat another country’s son-in-law on the throne of Stoll, right? But you were only engaged. Even as an illegitimate child, once recognized as a prince, you could be placed on the throne using your maternal family’s power. That’s how White Deer calculated it and sent you back.”

Wolf looked at Red Eagle from the corner of his eye. His face was as pale as white paper.

“You came all this way knowing nothing. Just look at that pretty hairstyle. You have Stoll blood running through your veins, but were raised as Atania fools to your very bones. If you’d understood the current situation, you’d never have come here.”

“So… my mother being gravely ill… was a lie?”

Red Eagle asked in a small voice. Black Weasel chuckled.

“You mean that White Deer used such a lie to lure her son? Prince, I don’t know if this will comfort you, but your mother is the liveliest woman in Stoll.”

“Do you know Lady White Deer well?”

Black Weasel nodded at Wolf’s question.

“I’ve never seen her in person, but I’ve heard her name until my ears hurt. She’s the most famous female warrior in Stoll. Her eight siblings are also outstanding warriors. The prince has a formidable maternal family.”

“I’m returning to Atania.”

Red Eagle said immediately. Black Weasel raised one eyebrow.

Red Eagle looked at Wolf.

“Wolf, I’m sorry. The Levenon royal family couldn’t possibly be unaware of the situation in Stoll. They must have hidden it from me and refused my request to travel abroad. Had I known beforehand, I absolutely would not have come here…”

“Your Highness, wait a moment!”

Wolf spun around and ran off in a panic. The corpses, drenched in blood, were visible even from a distance.

“Damn it!”

Wolf stopped, and clutched his head with both hands. Red Eagle, who had followed him, asked, “What’s wrong, Wolf?”

Wolf slumped his shoulders.

“During the fight earlier, the chest got sliced in half. The gold coins spilled out onto the floor… See over there? Not a single one of those coins is left.”

Red Eagle checked the spot Wolf pointed to and covered his mouth with one hand.

“Looks like people swarmed in and cleaned it out the moment we left. I was an idiot. How could I have forgotten to grab the gold coins…”

“What are we going to do…”

Red Eagle muttered. It was truly disastrous. Stranded penniless in a foreign land where they couldn’t communicate, especially in Stoll. It was practically a reservation for freezing to death on the streets before the day was out.

When Wolf and Red Eagle trudged back, Black Weasel and the boy doubled over laughing.

[Hahahaha! These guys sure know how to make people laugh!]

[Are you stupid?!]

It was in Stoll, but the meaning was clear enough to Wolf. It was somewhat unexpected. He’d assumed someone who killed as easily as eating breakfast would maintain a constant, expressionless composure. Yet the two murderers before him were laughing their heads off.

As they laughed without restraint, exuding a bleak chill like the winter winds of the North Sea, their appearance instantly transformed into that of boisterous pranksters. A murderer who laughs easily is certainly easier to deal with than one who wears a cold expression…

But to be honest, weighing which murderer might be easier to handle in this situation makes me sound like a real fool.