Chapter – 27
When the expressions of the three turned grim, the bandits wore looks of resignation.
They nodded as if they understood Viretta, sorrow in their eyes.
“We know. In the eastern territories, the Medridge family holds power rivaling a ducal house. Their family members are treated with more respect than the kings of small nations.”
Being comforted by people who had lost work because of Medridge and the Duskhaze Mercenary Corps stabbed at the trio’s consciences.
“It’s not really… like that. Right, Viretta?”
“Y-Yeah. It’s not really… like that.”
“Indeed. Even wealthy people are still people in the end. They live lives not much different from ours. Sometimes, exactly the same.”
Iola quietly let a fragment of the truth slip, his voice heavy with misery.
The bandits’ expressions grew even more sympathetic.
“We know that too. If the famous Duskhaze Mercenary Corps of Najin were here, there’d be no need to hire Filian’s pathetic mercenaries. Honestly… for people like us, going to a dragon’s nest is terrifying.”
“Please don’t blame yourselves too much. The Duskhaze Mercenary Corps doesn’t want to go either.”
“No way! A legendary captain who once cut down ten men on the battlefield would be thrilled at the chance to fight a dragon!”
“If that were the case,” Iola muttered bitterly, recalling how many times his father had refused, “there’d be no reason for us to be here.”
Unaware of the truth, the bandit misunderstood and nodded.
“That’s true.”
“Yeah… really true…”
How much easier would things be if the Duskhaze captain were the bold hero the bandits imagined?
Instead, because he wasn’t, a group of amateurs—weak and inexperienced—were on their way to hunt a dragon.
Ranken stared off at the distant mountains with an expression that looked ready to cry.
Viretta clicked her tongue and squeezed her eyes shut.
Amid the guilt-ridden, ruined atmosphere, Iola lifted his head resolutely.
“We understand your situation. Please don’t worry. A union between those two families will never happen. We intend to stop it—even if it costs us our lives.”
“W-What?! Why?!”
“Why would you go that far?!”
The sturdy bandits turned pale in shock.
Helping out of sympathy was one thing, but risking their lives? That was truly a case of why go that far.
Having regained her composure, Viretta added something even more suspicious.
“Right. We’ve already sent a blood-soaked horned bull’s head to the engagement ceremony between the two families.”
“Why?! Seriously, why would you interfere in someone else’s marriage?! We’re grateful, but… this much?!”
“Scary people…!”
One of the bandits, thoroughly shaken by Viretta and Iola’s antics, rolled his eyes back until only the whites showed, his pupils vanishing as they trembled.
Tears began to well up in the eyes of the men who had already gone pale.
“H-Hic…”
“It’s over. We’re done for…”
Viretta tilted her head, genuinely confused.
“Why are you crying? I, Viretta, am bravely standing up to solve all your problems!”
“See?! We’re finished!”
The more energetically Viretta declared her intentions, the deeper the bandits’ despair grew. To them, ignorant of the circumstances, Viretta and Iola looked like outright lunatics.
They’d only hoped for a little sympathy—but hearing that these people had sent an animal’s head to a Medridge wedding made their vision go dark.
At this rate, they themselves might be treated as accomplices. Ahead lay a cliff; behind them, swords and spears.
The villagers had already fled, and Iola and Viretta clearly didn’t understand the hearts of common folk. As long as Ranken didn’t intervene in the farce, the sound of sobbing only grew louder.
And then—
“What are you all doing? You can’t even manage one small village. Pathetic.”
An old voice split through the crying.
A presence that had been drowned out by sobs suddenly made itself felt nearby.
“Boss!”
“Chief!”
The bandits who had been kneeling motionless scrambled to their feet. Hope flickered across their faces.
Viretta regarded the “boss” with subtle tension. The bandits’ obvious relief—even after seeing Iola’s skills—meant their leader was no less capable.
“You look like a fairly skilled brat, but stop there. Now that I’m here, you’d be wiser to quietly leave your money behind.”
The boss pulled back her hood. As expected from the voice, an elderly woman was revealed.
Her hair, completely white, was braided neatly, and she leaned on a staff carved from old wood.
She lacked the fiery vigor of youth, but her seasoned presence was unmistakable.
She remained calm even before the young man who had taken down several strong fighters, and Iola wasn’t flustered by her appearance either.
“Please put away your staff and step back. I don’t wish to cut down an elder.”
“Elder?! Who are you calling an elder?! I’ve got at least thirty years left to live—how dare you call me an old hag!”
Viretta’s unspoken thought—If you’ve got thirty years left, doesn’t that still make you an elder?—was obliterated by thunder.
The moment the old woman raised her staff and roared, a massive bolt of lightning struck.
The ground beneath Iola’s feet was scorched black. Pebbles flew in every direction, striking the bandits and Ranken.
The spines of Viretta and Ranken, who had relaxed after Iola’s earlier display, went cold.
“V-Viretta…”
“I know.”
The old woman had cast a high-level spell without chanting. An ordinary mage wouldn’t even be able to challenge her—and of all things, she wielded lightning magic.
Among elemental magic, lightning was special.
Even a glancing blow could cause fatal injuries. Alongside fire, it was considered one of the twin pillars of combat magic.
Less versatile—but unmatched in destructive power.
Even Iola, who had subdued multiple men without injuring them, couldn’t take her lightly. If anything, he could be the one in danger.
Sensing the danger, Ranken kept glancing nervously at Viretta. She lowered her voice and nodded.
“Don’t worry. If it gets dangerous, I’ll use my trump card.”
“You have one of those?”
“As the daughter of Medridge, I carry at least three secret weapons.”
“What does Medridge have to do with—”
While the two whispered their escape plans, the situation worsened. When Iola refused to sheathe his sword, the bandit chief’s magic intensified.
Thin pillars of lightning struck one after another. Watching Iola narrowly dodge each bolt, the old woman curled her lips into a grin.
“It’s been a while since I’ve met a spirited young one. Hah—this’ll be fun. Don’t hold back just because I’m older.”
“I don’t particularly enjoy fighting the elderly. It leaves a bad aftertaste.”
Even so, Iola didn’t lower his sword or abandon his fighting spirit.
At that hair-trigger moment, the ones who boldly stepped between them were the very bandits who had been crying moments ago.
“Boss! Please don’t! This man saved our lives! Let’s just take the ransom and let them go!”
“Yeah! And he’s a promising former mercenary from Najin! He’s no easy opponent. What if you get hurt, Boss?”
The burly men wiped their tears away with their sleeves and clung to the old woman. The woman known as their boss waved her staff irritably.
“What? You want to let them go just because they spared you? With that kind of thinking, how do you expect to be bandits?”
“But… we have some sense of conscience. We can’t ask someone who saved us to fight to the death…”
“Tch. Hey—you. What do you think?”
The old mage shoved aside the sniveling bandits and pointed at Iola, clicking her tongue loudly so everyone could hear.
She was asking whether he intended to keep fighting—or pay and leave.
Iola smiled warmly, his face as gentle as an angel’s.
“Seeing loyalty and humanity still alive—even among people worse than dogs—warms my heart.”
“You little bastaaaard!”
That devilish remark earned him instant retribution.
Lightning burst in every direction with the mage’s roar. Everyone—even the bandits who had defended Iola—recoiled in horror, while Iola alone blinked in confusion.
“Why are you angry? I haven’t insulted or looked down on you. You might feel offended, but that’s because you chose to live your lives like trash—”
The words that had once ignited the bandits’ rage began to spill out again.
Apparently, even a sixty-year-old couldn’t endure such verbal abuse. The old woman’s fist trembled violently.
“You wretched brat, speaking without knowing anything about others—!”
“Everyone, stop right there!”
At that moment, another person threw herself between the genius swordsman fighting eight to one and the battle mage.
The cheerful voice—utterly lacking in gravitas—belonged to Viretta, who spread her arms wide to block Iola.
Ranken instinctively followed, guarding her back.
Up to this point, both the old mage and the bandits had expected this.
A young woman ignorant of the world—or a brave woman willing to risk her life for love—stepping in to protect a man was nothing unusual.
She’d get a harsh lesson and be knocked aside easily, but the act itself was common enough.
However, Viretta was different from most women.
She pointed boldly at the elderly mage, wearing a triumphant grin.
“Hah! The mystery has been completely solved.”
“?”
Words utterly out of place made question marks pop up in everyone’s minds.
Viretta accepted the sudden silence with evident satisfaction.
“I, the great detective who can stop even a crying child, shall now reveal the truth and solve this case!”
“???”
