The firewood thrown into the bonfire crackled sharply as it burst apart. Shadows revealed by the setting sun and the flames drifted slowly across the walls and ground. Even as the sun dipped below the horizon, the healing mages continued their work without pause. Some of the townspeople whose injuries had already been treated began returning home, supported by their families and acquaintances.

Those who remained in the church were the ones whose wounds had been healed but who had lost too much blood to move. No matter how skilled healing mages were, they couldn’t create blood itself. Soldiers capable of manipulating the magic barrier, sometimes called a second skin, could suppress bleeding when injured. But expecting ordinary citizens who were unfamiliar with violence to do the same would have been unreasonable.

“We’re truly grateful… you saved us.”

The one bowing deeply was a middle-aged miner known as Foreman Zidre. Acting on behalf of his weakened companions, he went around expressing gratitude even to Walm, who was not a healing mage. He must have been a remarkably dutiful man.

“I’m just standing here. You don’t need to bow that much.”

“No way. You rode through the night and brought the healing mages all the way from Selta. If you’d been any later, some of us would’ve been dead or losing rotting arms and legs.”

Justan had served as the guide during the ride here. The poor imperial knight had simply clung desperately to his saddle, trying not to be left behind due to his unfamiliarity with riding. Walm had done nothing worthy of such gratitude. Even so, Walm doubted the miner standing before him would simply accept the truth if he explained it honestly. So Walm stopped trying to deny the praise and decided instead to ask a question.

“It was worth the hurry. There’s something I’d like to ask, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, go right ahead.”

Having received the foreman’s permission, Walm asked a personal question.

“In the Refun Mine, do cave-ins of this scale happen often? Or is this something that happens in mines everywhere?”

At the Karoloria Vein, which the empire had developed from demonic territory, much of the labor was done by prisoners of war who could not pay their ransom and by migrant workers. Supervising them were tunnel engineers invited by the former southern army of Highserk through Viscount Edgar de Dalimarcus. That much Walm had learned from Friug during the journey.

Yet even Refun, which possessed one of the finest groups of tunnel engineers in the north, had suffered such a catastrophic disaster. There was no guarantee that the far younger Karoloria mines, new as a newborn in historical terms, wouldn’t face the same fate.

“Well… people die every year, sure, but it’s usually on a much smaller scale. Like one passage collapsing, that sort of thing.”

“So the heavy rain caused it?”

The rivers Walm had seen along the way here had all been full, their banks gouged away, each of them close to overflowing. Even to an amateur’s eyes, it seemed a likely cause.

“It’s definitely a rare kind of downpour, no doubt about that. But not the sort of rain that would collapse one of the main shafts, the ones with horizontal drainage tunnels and drainage mages assigned to them. Now if it were a small shaft like the one I work in, I’d understand it.”

The miner answered with a bitter, self-mocking tone.

“Maybe it was just an unfortunate accident… a series of coincidences.”

“…Yeah, probably. Plenty of arrogant bastards worked down there, but I can’t imagine any of ’em slacking off in their own tunnels. Damn it, I hated their guts sometimes, but they were the kind of men worth competing with.”

The miner spoke as if he still couldn’t quite believe it. His gaze drifted past Walm’s shoulder, toward the tunnel where muddy water and debris were still pouring in.

“At the very least, I’d like to give the bodies a proper burial.”

“Of course. Becoming a ghoul and wandering the tunnels forever… that’s a miner’s nightmare. I’d never want that for them.”

“Don’t push yourself too hard. If you collapse and end up carried in here, it’ll defeat the purpose.”

“Right. I’ll head home and get some sleep so I don’t trouble the healing mages.”

Walm silently watched the man’s filthy, exhausted back as he left. Even though their positions differed, everyone was exhausting themselves in their own way. Walm turned to return to his post as a sentry and attend to his own duty, but that proved impossible.

Several sets of purposeful footsteps were approaching. More visitors had arrived. Since when had he become the servant responsible for receiving guests? Muttering inwardly, he looked up to identify the newcomers.

“So, miners first and now soldiers, huh.”

The ones who appeared were four soldiers from the former Felius. When the group from Selta had arrived in Refun, the soldiers stationed in both the mining town and the mountain fortress had rushed to assist in restoring order throughout the city. Because of that, their presence was common around the treatment area.

Although the region had been absorbed into Mayard territory, it had originally belonged to Felius. There likely hadn’t been enough resources to replace all the remaining soldiers’ armor with equipment bearing the new army’s design. Even here, the strained finances of the Mayard were evident.

“What’s your business?”

Walm’s question carried a clear warning not to approach any further. One of the soldiers answered.

“We’re a unit dispatched from the mountain fortress to maintain order in the mining town. We heard that you all came from Selta to help. You must be exhausted after working without rest. As a token of our gratitude, we thought we could at least assist with the night watch.”

The fatigue clinging to Walm from lack of sleep was real. Considering their plans ahead, the offer was indeed tempting. Without shifting his eyes, Walm carefully examined the soldier from his feet to his head before answering with a broad smile.

“Your concern is much appreciated.”

“Then—”

“Ah, but wait a moment. I’m not the one with command authority. I’ll have to ask Justan, who is in charge of the escort. I’m sure he’ll be delighted.”

The words sounded pleasant to the ear. Their willingness to look after others was admirable. After all, even the demon mask trembled in agreement with such kindness. And yet, there was something else.

Their equipment was remarkably clean, and hardly a trace of mud clung to it. Even if they had washed it just moments before, it was still unnaturally spotless considering the situation. What exactly had these men been doing up until now?

Despite his exhaustion, his thoughts began racing at high speed. Were they simply lazy? Or trying to earn goodwill? Or perhaps conducting some kind of covert work or gathering information? Who were they really, and what were they hiding? Turning back inside, Walm spoke to Justan.

“Sir Justan, we have visitors from the mountain fortress outside. The good news is they’re offering to help with guarding the church.”

Spreading his arms in an exaggerated gesture, Walm called out. Justan responded immediately.

“That is wonderful news. In that case, I’d like them to stand watch outside with you, Walm. As you can see, the inside is already cramped with just us.”

For the two men who held mutual respect for one another, only a few words were needed. The message about the suspicious visitors had been conveyed perfectly.

Keep a wary eye on them, and don’t let anything questionable get close. It was the basic rule of security.

Meanwhile, the safety of the interior would be ensured by Justan and the cavalry who had accompanied them. Walm’s role, for the moment, was simply to stay outside and build rapport with the waiting guests.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. You’ll be patrolling outside with me.”

“Of course. Leave it to—”

Contrary to Walm’s intention of taking his time with this little exchange, the men on the other side seemed to be in quite a hurry. The quick rasp of cloth brushing together tickled his ears. It was a sound he least wanted to hear, especially from a blind spot, and especially when his attention had been deliberately drawn to the front.

“?!”

The familiar sound came from the moment a soldier reached across his body toward his waist. The meaning was clear, it was a blade being drawn. Using the flow of the conversation as cover, one of the soldiers had circled around to Walm’s side and was gripping the hilt of his sword, already halfway through drawing it. As politely as if offering a handshake, Walm extended his right arm, seized the man’s elbow and locked it down. The blade, half-drawn, lost its path and rattled wildly inside its scabbard.

“Impatient, aren’t you.”

A fixed smile rested on the imperial knight’s face, while the former kingdom soldier’s face twisted in strain. As Walm spoke, his left hand, now burning with blue flames, shot forward and tore into the soldier’s throat. A moment later blood burst forth, instantly scorched by the blue flames and scattering into a crimson mist.

“Ghk…! Aaagh!!”

There was no surprise or protest from the remaining soldiers. The only thing in their eyes was firm resolve. The silent death cry had served as the signal. Drawing their weapons in unison, the Felius soldiers shouted.

“He’s onto us!”

“Attack!”

Their battle cries rang out, voices that would carry clearly even on a battlefield, and there was no sign of hesitation. This was not some sudden scuffle. They moved as a unit under clear command.

“Justaaaan! Secure the entrance!”

Walm grabbed the halberd that had been leaning against the wall and poured mana into it. Blue flames flared along the shaft up to the spearhead, burning away the leather sheath and sending it scattering.

Their plan for a surprise attack had been exposed. Now they were switching to a direct assault through brute force.

Translator – Lyxxna