He grabbed the sword leaning against the wall and pressed himself against it. The footsteps were approaching his room directly. They were too heavy to be Hardy’s and too light to be Yanken’s. Holding his breath, he narrowed his eyes at the person who burst through the door defenseless.

“Kirhin.”

He looked disheveled, unlike someone who usually claimed that his nobility was defined by his stylishness. His hair was completely tousled from the wind, and his face was flushed red. Clutching his chest while breathing heavily, he stammered.

“Ge-get ready to leave right now. Right now!”

“What’s happened?”

There were still two days left before their departure for Freemont. Sensing that Kirhin wasn’t talking about the Freemont trip, Lars supported his staggering arm. Kirhin pulled out a letter from his chest and held it out.

“His Highness sent a letter to the merchant group. He says to escape immediately. It seems the Count knows where we are. Please check if this is His Highness’s handwriting.”

“What?”

Surprised, Lars unfolded the letter. Though hastily written, Pelowic’s handwriting was still recognizable.

“Why didn’t he send it directly to me?”

“He must have had his reasons. Escaping first is the priority.”

Kirhin leaned against the wall, exhaling a long breath. Lars’s brows furrowed.

He was right. Thinking about how and where he had been exposed was a luxury in the current situation. The only certainty was that the Count knew his location.

Setting out for Freemont early and assessing the situation later was also an option. While mapping out the route in his mind, he grabbed Kirhin’s shoulder.

“It’s dangerous, so you should go back too. Take care of the merchant group.”

“No. Contact Yanken. I’ve passed on the news, so he’ll come with his group.”

“I’ll handle that myself……”

As Lars was speaking, he heard the rustling of leaves. The sound came from the left side of the inn.

This inn was in a secluded location, and on the left side there was nothing but a wall marking the boundary with the neighboring house. It wasn’t a place where people came and went. Lars watched the window and spoke in a low voice.

“Let’s get out first.”

“What?”

“I said get out!”

As he shouted, the window shattered with a thud, and something hot flew in. Kirhin screamed in terror as the fireball rolled around. Seeing several more fireballs flying in, Lars grabbed Kirhin and rushed out of the room.

People who had remained inside were running out one by one. Fireballs must have flown into their rooms too. Lars hesitated when he saw the first man who ran toward the door to get outside. The man collapsed with a scream, cut by a sword. Men in black clothes with covered faces were rushing in through the open door.

“It’s Askun!”

Someone shouted. It was a cry prompted by the weapons the intruders were wielding.

The story of how Askun’s barbarians had massacred border village people by beheading them with curved sickle-like weapons was so famous that even those who hadn’t participated in the war knew about it.

“Aaaagh!”

“S-save me! Aaak!”

Blood splattered as people trying to escape fell to the indiscriminately swinging blades. Fireballs were flying in everywhere, setting fire to the old wood. In the midst of the sudden chaos, Lars kicked the waist of a man rushing toward him and drew his sword.

“Kirhin, get out quickly!”

“No, where am I supposed to go… Aaaagh, don’t come near me!”

Seeing Kirhin retreat back into the room, Lars stood firmly in front of him, blocking the intruders. The men who had identified him were coming toward them, casually killing people along the way.

Lars knew Askun’s methods very well. He had seen people dying every day on the battlefield, their throats cut by Askun’s weapons. Askun’s technique was to attack with a curved blade in one hand and a short dagger in the other.

However, the men before him were only using one hand. Moreover, their sword technique was different. Naturally, they weren’t Askun.

“Ha!”

Deflecting a blade aimed at his waist and cutting down his opponent, Lars watched the man fall. Screams echoed from everywhere. Though the intruders weren’t Askun, they were no less cruel.

The Count intended to kill everyone, including him, and burn everything down. To him, the lives of people living in such places were no different from insects.

“Lord Lars, in front!”

At Kirhin’s voice, Lars swung his arm. A throwing star spinning through the air made a brief sound as it hit his blade. Turning his head, he saw Kirhin holding an axe in a clumsy stance.

His hands were trembling. Feeling Lars’s gaze, Kirhin moved his lips.

“I just grabbed what was inside. I need something, don’t I?”

“Don’t try to swing it clumsily, just run away somewhere. You’re more dangerous with a weapon.”

“I need somewhere to run to! Aagh!”

When someone rushed at him, Kirhin flailed and swung the axe. Lars quickly turned his body to avoid nearly getting his face cut and slashed the man’s arm. The man’s scream blended with the screams echoing from all directions. Lars pulled Kirhin’s arm.

“This way. There are stairs leading to the basement storage. We can get outside through the window there.”

“Tell me these things sooner.”

The two ran quickly, taking advantage of the empty corridor. Kirhin asked while panting.

“But why Askun… did the Count collude with them?”

“It’s not Askun. The Count is disguising this as Askun’s work to cover it up.”

“Get them!”

Hearing a rough voice from behind, they increased their speed. As they practically tumbled down the stairs, darkness immediately enveloped them. The basement storage had no lights.

“I can’t see where to go.”

Lars had been down here a few times, so he could quickly find the entrance. The reason he had stayed here was because there was a way to escape outside in case of emergency.

His brows furrowed as he reached for the window. Someone must have placed something against it from outside, as the window was blocked by something and wouldn’t open easily. Despite applying force, the window only rattled.

“Push this.”

Though he looked uneasily at the dusty, cobweb-covered area, Kirhin quickly climbed onto the stacked boxes and began pushing the window.

Just as the heavy barrel started to move slightly and a gap appeared, a burning torch flew in from somewhere. The intruders were coming down the stairs looking for them. Lars twisted his sword, his back to the window.

“I’ll hold them off, you go through there.”

“B-but I should stay to help somehow……”

“No, you must leave no matter what. I have a better chance of survival alone!”

Lars swung his sword. Fortunately, the door to the storage room was narrow, preventing the enemies from entering in large numbers. Kirhin, who had managed to wedge the flickering torch in the gap of the window, looked back. Someone’s sword was just aiming for Lars’s side.

“Watch out!”

Though Lars avoided that sword, he was slightly late in blocking a sword coming down from above. Long scratches appeared on his shoulder, and red droplets of blood splattered on his pale cheek. He immediately counterattacked and cut down his opponent, but there was no end to them.

Yanken would soon arrive with the mercenary group, so they just needed to buy time. This wasn’t the time for him to escape alone. Gritting his teeth, Kirhin released the force on his arm that had been pushing the window.

Look, pebble. See how far your brother goes for someone you care about.

With a wry smile, Kirhin looked around for something helpful, and his eyes gradually widened.

A person was standing in the corner, as if the darkness in the storage room had suddenly spat him out. The man with his long hair loosely tied wore black clothes, and somehow his presence felt faint, as if he had been a ghost seeping into that spot for a long time.

The only entrance was blocked by Lars, and the window was half-opened. So this man wasn’t someone who had ‘entered’ here. He had been inside all along.

……No.

The man’s hand glinted as he moved with suppressed presence. Lars was too busy blocking the attackers from the front. Seeing the direction that hand was aiming, Kirhin threw himself forward without time to think.

“Ugh!”

Lars, who had been struggling not to be pushed back, quickly checked behind him at the presence he felt. He was shocked to see Kirhin bent over and someone standing in front of him.

“Kirhin, are you alright?”

“I’m, I’m fine……”

Kirhin pressed his lower abdomen firmly, enduring the pain. Warm blood was soaking his clothes through the tear where the cool blade had cut through his muscles. His lips instantly dried up, and he looked up at the man. He could feel Lars’s body gradually being pushed back.

Lars kicked the large man blocking his way hard in the stomach to create distance and checked behind him again. He immediately recognized the man with the clean skin and neat face.

“Quido!”

Clicking his tongue briefly, Quido still held the handle of the dagger embedded in Kirhin’s body. Lars swung his sword and quickly shouted.

“Think carefully. Killing Baron Bickman is completely different from killing me. Your master won’t like it!”

“Well, that’s fine. A barbarian’s blade doesn’t discriminate by status anyway.”

As he felt the blade pushing deeper into his body with force, Kirhin coughed up blood. Blood was flowing between his teeth. Quido spoke quietly.

“Bad luck. If you hadn’t been here, you would have remained safe all along.”

Too many people had already died. Though they weren’t of significant status, such a tragedy still required someone to take responsibility. So they had chosen Askun to bear that responsibility.

But Kirhin happened to be here. While they didn’t care about the other ruffians, the words of someone of Baron Bickman’s status would certainly carry weight. That was not what they wanted. Having witnessed everything here, Kirhin had essentially boarded a carriage heading toward death.

“I don’t think so. You’re not particularly lucky either.”

Kirhin, gasping for breath, swung his hand. In a moment of carelessness, Quido felt a dull blade cutting across his face and immediately twisted and pulled out the dagger. Kirhin collapsed, spitting blood.

“Kirhin!”

As Lars retreated, the enemies who had widened the passage began entering the storage room one by one. Crouching low, Lars grabbed Kirhin and headed for the corner. Red bloodstains left a tragic trail following their movements.

“Well…… I really, didn’t expect such a day would come.”

Leaning his back against the wall, Kirhin muttered with weak, cloudy eyes. Lars saw the knife falling from his hand. It was a small kitchen knife that someone seemed to have left after preparing ingredients.

“If I die after my father, rumors about a curse on the Bickman family, will be unavoidable.”

“Shut up.”

While watching for approaching enemies, Lars pressed the wound with one hand, but blood continued to flow without pause. The depth of the wound was evident from Kirhin’s complexion alone. His breathing was rough, with a metallic sound mixed in as he struggled to breathe.

“If they take Lord Lars too, our pebble will not, not let me off easily.”