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Chapter 9: The protagonist arrives late

Chapter 9: The protagonist arrives late

Aldric didn’t enter Grail Pass right away.

He stood on a cliff face more than a kilometer from the battlefield, calmly observing the smoke rising in the distance. The sound of clashing magic occasionally echoed between the canyon walls, but the intensity had already weakened compared to when he first arrived.

The battle was nearly over.

Aldric felt no urgency. He had ordered the ambush team not to kill Cassian Avarenne, only to eliminate enough escorts for the Duke to understand he had no way out.

If you wanted someone to truly remember a life-saving debt, you had to appear at the exact moment their despair reached its peak.

If he arrived too early, Cassian would only think he happened to lend a hand. If he arrived too late, the person in the carriage might be injured beyond what was planned.

Aldric estimated the timing, then drew his staff and let wind mana envelop his body. He leaped from the cliff, gliding across the gap between the two ridges at tremendous speed.

’After today, House Avarenne will have no reason to refuse my people entry into their territory.’

’Cassian will need additional forces for protection. Mirelle will be grateful to me for saving her husband’s life. And Leviana...’

The corner of Aldric’s mouth curved upward.

’She’ll return to her rightful place in the end.’

Leviana waking earlier than the storyline dictated was only a minor deviation. Her keeping Lathel by her side wasn’t worth worrying about either. Someone who had just emerged from a coma often became dependent on the first face they saw.

As long as Aldric severed that connection, everything would go back to normal.

An Extra with no talent, no strength, who couldn’t even speak, what could he possibly use to compete with the protagonist?

Aldric descended into the middle of Grail Pass.

The mana around him erupted, blasting dust away within a radius of several meters. He had deliberately created an entrance dramatic enough to be noticed, but when he raised his head to survey the battlefield, the smile on his lips froze solid.

There was no desperate escort team.

There was no Cassian Avarenne trapped inside a carriage.

Every one of the thirty-plus men Aldric had dispatched was already bound to the ground by chains of mana. Some were badly wounded; the rest were still conscious, but none had the ability to continue fighting.

The carriage bearing the silver eagle crest stood with its door open.

Inside was nothing but a wooden puppet dressed in the Duke’s clothes.

Twenty escorts in silver armor stood in a circle around the area. Their leader was a man of about forty, with an angular face, short brown hair, and a long scar across his left eyebrow.

The sword in his hand still had blood on it.

But its tip was pointed at Aldric.

"Young Master Aldric." Captain Garran Holt looked at him, his voice carrying not a trace of surprise. "You’ve arrived earlier than we anticipated."

Aldric didn’t answer right away.

His gaze swept over the puppet in the carriage, the captured assassins, and the magic array that had clearly been prepared in advance. This could not have been a spur-of-the-moment response from the escort team.

They had known the ambush was coming.

Not just the location, but the timing as well.

Aldric quickly regained his composure. He reined in the mana around him, set the staff aside, and said: "I received word that Duke Avarenne’s convoy was under attack and came to assist immediately. It seems you’ve handled things yourselves."

Garran didn’t lower his sword.

"Word from where?"

"One of my men spotted a suspicious group heading toward Grail Pass."

"Your man knew our convoy would be passing through here?"

Aldric’s eyes shifted slightly.

Garran continued, his expression still calm: "This journey was kept secret. Even many of the guards within the family didn’t know the route. How did your man know?"

Aldric smiled. "I had originally planned to come welcome Duke Cassian. Knowing the route isn’t unusual."

"You came to welcome a convoy that never reported its departure time, yet you happened to arrive at the exact moment we were attacked?"

"That was merely a coincidence."

"A coincidence?"

Garran directed his sword tip toward the bound figures in black.

"They also knew the exact route, the timing, and which carriage the Duke would be using. It seems today is full of coincidences."

Aldric didn’t continue explaining.

He understood the other side was trying to buy time. The Avarenne guards hadn’t attacked immediately because they didn’t yet have direct evidence proving he was behind the ambush, but they were clearly suspicious.

If those assassins were taken back to the territory and interrogated, a great many things would become troublesome.

Aldric glanced toward the exit of the gorge.

Two overturned carts had blocked most of the road, but with his current strength, he could still leave. As long as he returned before the others, dealt with a few people who knew too much, and erased all traces, House Avarenne would have nothing on him but speculation.

"It seems you don’t need my assistance." Aldric turned, his voice still composed. "I won’t intrude any further."

Garran didn’t stop him.

A young guard standing behind him shifted restlessly, whispering: "Captain, we’re just letting him go?"

"We don’t have evidence yet."

"But he clearly..."

"No one acts without orders."

Garran watched Aldric’s retreating back, his hand still resting on the hilt of his sword.

He wanted to keep him here too.

But Aldric was the son of a major noble house and had been recognized by the Royal Academy as a rare genius. If House Avarenne openly attacked him without evidence, the family would immediately be put at a disadvantage.

Moreover, this man was a Son of Fate.

Those chosen by destiny always had a great many people willing to take their side.

The moment Aldric suffered even a small injury, countless voices would appear to condemn House Avarenne before the truth could even be investigated.

Garran could only wait.

Wait for the captured ambushers to talk.

Wait for Duke Cassian to make his decision.

But Aldric had only taken a few steps when the horses nearby suddenly grew restless. They stamped at the ground relentlessly, and a few even tried to snap their reins and bolt.

An unfamiliar current of mana slowly flooded into the gorge.

Not cold.

Not hot.

Yet carrying a razor-sharp presence that made the skin prickle with pain.

Aldric stopped.

The sound of boots striking the ground in unison rose from the road behind him.

Not fast.

Not chaotic.

Each footfall landed at nearly the same instant, displaying a discipline that made the Avarenne guards immediately tighten their formation.

A thin veil of mist crept across the ground.

From within the mist, a group of female soldiers in white armor slowly marched into the gorge. Their cloaks were also white, but on the breastplate of each appeared a black rose.

Eight spider legs fanned out around the flower, forming a symbol that was at once beautiful and deeply unsettling.

Garran tightened his grip on the hilt.

He had never encountered this army before, but the synchronized footsteps and the way they controlled their mana alone were proof enough that not a single one of them was an ordinary soldier.

They entered an area that had just seen combat, yet none of them spared a glance at the bound assassins or the Avarenne escort.

Every pair of eyes was locked on Aldric.

The one at the head walked half a step slower than the rest.

She wore a long white cloak, its hood pulled up to conceal her hair. A silver mask covered nearly her entire face, leaving only cold eyes visible behind it.

At her hip hung not the broadsword or longsword one might expect.

It was a foil with an extremely slender blade.

Aldric saw the symbol on their armor, and his pupils contracted instantly.

Black Rose.

Impossible.

In the portion of the storyline he knew, Black Rose wasn’t supposed to appear for many more years. It was the personal force of a woman known as the Black Rose Widow, a dangerous figure who aligned with virtually no faction.

Catrina Veyr.

The disfigured Duchess.

A woman treated as a bad omen by her own family after her husband’s death.

At this point in time, Catrina should still have been confined within the Veyr territory. She hadn’t yet uncovered the truth behind the curse on her face, much less reclaimed enough power to establish Black Rose.

But the army standing before him couldn’t be faked.

That symbol.

The way the female soldiers concealed their auras.

And the masked woman holding the foil.

All of it was identical to what Aldric knew from the storyline.

’This isn’t right.’

’She can’t be here.’

Aldric was beginning to feel uneasy.

Leviana had woken early.

House Avarenne had known about the ambush in advance.

And now even Catrina and Black Rose had appeared years ahead of schedule.

These deviations were no longer minor details.

They were accumulating, one after another.

The masked woman stopped roughly twenty meters from Aldric.

Her gaze swept over the captured assassins, the puppet in the carriage, and finally settled on him.

No surprise.

No suspicion.

She looked at Aldric as though she already knew exactly who he was, and exactly why he was here.

Catrina raised her hand.

No explanation.

No need to confirm identities.

She pointed her index finger straight at Aldric.

"Kill him."

Her voice was very quiet.

The Black Rose soldiers drew their swords in unison.

Aldric immediately raised his staff. A golden barrier appeared around him, blocking the first blades that came slashing in from both sides.

"Wait!"

He fell back, raising his voice: "There may be a misunderstanding between us. I am Aldric, the betrothed of Leviana Avarenne. I came here to welcome my wife’s family escort."

Catrina had been drawing the foil from its sheath but suddenly paused.

"Your wife?"

Aldric noticed her reaction and pressed on at once: "The betrothal between myself and Leviana was decided by both families years ago. If you are allies of House Avarenne, attacking me will only create an unnecessary conflict."

Catrina tilted her head.

Behind the mask, her eyes grew colder.

"You still enjoy calling things that were never yours your own."

Aldric went rigid.

That sentence didn’t sound like it came from someone who had just heard about a betrothal.

It sounded like she knew what he had taken.

"Who are you?"

Catrina didn’t answer.

She stepped forward.

The twenty meters of distance vanished in a single breath.

The tip of the foil drove straight for Aldric’s throat.