Chapter 589

I Became a Dark Fantasy Villain

"Sir!" Sanford came down the stairs, bowing. He held a bottle of liquor, his eyes scanning the dimly lit hold, which was illuminated by a few candles.

The rowers sitting in rows on either side were pulling their oars slowly, in shifts. The only ones rowing continuously, regardless of the rotation, were the black-haired man sitting near the stairs and the large orc sitting opposite him.

"It’s about time we began preparations!" Sanford said, looking at the back of Ian’s head.

As Ian stopped moving, Mukapa, on the starboard side, immediately pulled his oar in.

"Phew… Phew…" Mukapa’s breath came rough and heavy, his body slick with sweat

Sanford showed no surprise. The orc hadn’t rested even when the others switched out, keeping pace with Ian across from him.

"I told you to speak up if it’s too much," Ian said, standing and looking across at him.

Though he was in light attire and also drenched in sweat, his breathing ragged, Sanford was amazed to see that he still seemed to have energy to spare.

"I am okay…" Mukapa said, his shoulders heaving. When the rower behind him offered a flask of watered-down wine, he promptly took it and brought it to his lips.

Ian let out a soft laugh and turned toward the stairs, met by the awestruck gazes of the rowers.

"Catch your breath and come out when you’re ready. I’ll be in the stables." He didn't forget to add a word for Mukapa.

Handing the liquor bottle to Ian, Sanford gave him a thumbs-up. "Truly a superhuman, sir."

"Now I know why you pay your rowers so much," Ian said with a shake of his head. Despite his words, his eyes looked strangely refreshed.

As he took a drink and entered the stairwell, Sanford quickly followed. "No matter how strong and skilled they are, no rower can go as long as you did, sir. Thanks to you, we arrived much earlier than expected."

"It was just two oars keeping on without rest. I wouldn’t call it much earlier."

"Even that makes a big difference in maintaining speed."

It wasn’t mere flattery. Outside was still dim, the dawn sun not yet risen under the shroud of clouds.

"Is everyone else still asleep?"

"The priestess woke up a little while ago. I heard the attendant has also regained consciousness."

"Is that so? Good." Ian nodded and stepped out onto the deck.

A salty wind, sharper and cooler than in the South, swept over him. He turned his head to the left, toward the starboard side. The towering coastal cliffs were gone. In its place was a rocky shoreline that curved in and out.

"Hmm."

Ian’s eyes scanned the coastline, then turned toward the bow. A faint smile touched his lips. Beyond the smoother stretch of rocks, a city shimmered with scattered lights.

It was close enough that he could easily make out the large wooden palisade that encircled it and the crudely built wooden buildings.

"So this is the so-called kingdom…"

Though it looked more like a shantytown or a bandit’s den, the city was much larger than he had expected. Further inside, there was a large, tall wooden building that resembled a hall.

Sanford, standing beside him, snorted. "Of course, they’ve had no recognition from the Empire. In truth, it’s closer to an enormous shithole than a kingdom."

"A shithole you’ll be living in."

At Ian’s reply, Sanford let out a chuckle and nodded. "It will still be better than returning to the inner sea. I thank you again for your merciful decision."

"Just let me know when we arrive. I’ll be getting ready." Ian handed the bottle back to Sanford and turned away.

"Sir, Agent of the Saint."

He had only taken a few steps before Sanford called him. Ian stopped and looked back.

Sanford hesitated for a moment, then added, "When the sun rises, we plan to bury the dead. So, there is something I would like to ask of you…"

"You want me to pray over them?" Ian asked, not at all surprised.

Sanford swallowed and nodded. "Yes. Most of them were once devout men. We can’t lay them to rest in Imperial soil, but if you would give them a blessing, it would be a great comfort to them."

Ian looked over at the bodies laid out in a row under a cloth on the side of the deck. That they hadn't chosen the archipelago’s method of burial at sea was enough to tell him about the identity of Sanford and his crew.

Finally, Ian said, "You probably don’t know this, but I don’t actually serve the Radiant Goddess."

"Pardon? I—I don’t understand." Sanford blinked, bewildered.

Looking back at him, Ian added, "But an Apostle of the Blazing Goddess is also on this ship. I’ll speak to Lucy. Since the Blazing Goddess watched over the battle, she will surely grant salvation to their souls."

Of course, she might throw them in her brazier to cleanse them of their sins first, but Ian saw no reason to mention that part, and he doubted Lucia would, either.

"Would you do that, sir? Thank you. That lifts a weight off my heart." Relief spread across Sanford’s face.

"Then guide us to a decent inn. Someplace clean, and well-informed about the city."

"Uh, I don’t know about well-informed, but there is no such thing as a clean place, sir." Sanford paused and bowed his head.

Ian just clicked his tongue briefly. In truth, he hadn't been expecting much in the way of hygiene, especially not after seeing the city's exterior.

"We’ll stay just one night. Make sure things stay calm. I don’t want blood spilled in the streets. The Elder is particularly on edge."

"Yes, do not worry!" Sanford straightened his back stiffly as he replied.

Typical of a former soldier.

Ian let out a snort, glanced at Mukapa coming up the stairs, and turned away.

A moment later, the sound of Sanford’s footsteps running down the stairs echoed.

"Everyone, stop slacking and row! We’re almost there! Let’s finish our work and then rest! Hashim! You lazy bastard! Quit sleeping and get out here!"

Letting the shrill shouts go in one ear and out the other, Ian opened the door to the cargo hold. The faint scent of burning herbs sharpened, and candlelight shimmered in the enclosed space.

"Sir Ian!" Lucia, who had been sitting on the floor by the carriage putting on her gear, shot up and approached him.

"I heard you worked hard until the very end. Well done," Ian said with a smile, placing a hand on her head like always. Now, though, his palm met the mask she wore instead of her crown.

"I only prayed. I’m fine. And I’ve eaten my fill."

"And had a drink, too."

At Ian’s chiding, Lucia shrugged as if she couldn't help it. "Sir Ian, aren’t you the one who overdid it? You should rest more."

"A moderate amount of exercise is the fastest way to recover," Ian replied.

Just then, the door opened again behind them. Lucia blinked as she saw Mukapa step in, his hulking frame slick with sweat. "That looks like more than a moderate amount. Mukapa looks exhausted."

"I am fine, priestess," Mukapa replied, entering with his head bowed. His voice, however, was heavy with fatigue.

Ian chuckled and moved aside. "They say they’ll be burying the bodies when the day breaks. I’d like you to pray for them then."

"Of course. I will."

"Truly?" A low cry of surprise came from the driver’s seat. The attendant, with a splint made from a plank on one leg and his head bandaged, was looking down at Lucia with shimmering eyes.

Lucia smiled brightly. "Of course, it’s true."

"Thank you, priestess. Timber will be able to rest in peace!" the attendant said with a bow.

He then turned to Ian and straightened up as best he could. "My apologies for the late greeting. I am Edward, in the service of the Young Master Simon, Agent of the Saint."

"I’m Ian. Glad you survived."

"It is all thanks to you. Thank you for saving my life."

"You should thank your master and Shahin, not me. They’re the ones who saved your life," said Ian.

Shahin was sleeping in the carriage with Simon and Brennen.

Edward nodded. "Yes. I will do so."

"You’ll drive the carriage. It doesn’t look like you can do much else with that leg."

"Yes, Agent of the Saint."

With a nod, Ian looked at Lucia and Mukapa. "Then let’s get ready to leave."

"Yes, I’ll bring your gear. Please wait a moment," Lucia replied.

"Don’t rush. We still have time. Start by waking the others," Ian added, and walked deeper into the hold.

There, perched lazily on Moro’s saddle with a cigarette between her lips, sat Thesaya. Aside from her cloak, she was already fully armed. No doubt she had overheard the conversation outside.

"I didn’t know you two had gotten so close already," Ian said as Lucia went to wake the others.

Thesaya held the cigarette out to him and smiled. "I took a liking to this one’s true form. So I put my old skills to use and caught a few mice."

"Impressive. Not all demonic steeds are like this one. What you saw then wasn’t even its true form," Ian said with a smile, taking the cigarette.

"Really? So it’s even cooler than that?" Thesaya’s eyes went wide.

Moro, who was lying with its chin on the ground, just let out a lazy snort.

"Sir Ian, here you are!" Lucia, cradling his plate gauntlets and pauldrons, came to his side.

Behind her stood Mukapa, carrying the rest of the pieces and the battle hammer strapped across his back

"Just put them on the side," Ian said with a nod of his chin, slipping a hand into a gauntlet.

Lucia shook her head as she passed a pauldron to Thesaya. "The floor is dirty. I’ll help you."

"So that was the deeper meaning." Ian readily nodded.

His gear, which had been caked in seawater and bodily fluids, scrubbed clean—Shahin and Lucia’s work, no doubt. It still carried an unpleasant stench, but then, so did Ian himself.

"Central must be completely unprepared, don’t you think?" Thesaya whispered, cradling the pieces of armor she had received from Mukapa. She was glancing at the carriage.

As Lucia glanced back, Ian nodded. "Probably."

Through Simon, Ian had learned that the Central territories had been the first to shake off the effects of the erosion and stabilize. Since then, the nobles’ attention quickly turned inward, fixed on the Imperial succession. Power struggles had flared again.

Simon had said that he had left for the South because the infighting had entered a lull and he had grown bored. Until then, the most likely candidate for crown prince had been the Third Prince, backed by Seras. But with the Platinum Dragon having brought down the Black Wall, the situation had surely entered a new phase.

"Hmm, the front line might collapse with almost no resistance," said Thesaya.

However, precisely for that reason, Ian doubted they would risk a swift push beyond the Wall. To the rival princes, this was the perfect chance to overturn the balance of power. From what he could see, it was more than likely that the capital remained consumed by its own feud.

"Perhaps that’s better than throwing lives away on the front lines," Ian replied nonchalantly.

In truth, even he did not know which was the better option. War was inevitable, and it wouldn't end quickly. And the great, irresistible tide of events would lead him to the battlefield.

"That might be true. If the front lines are breached, both the North and the South might refuse to help the Central," Lucia murmured, fastening the greaves on the back of Ian’s legs.

"The beastfolk and the barbarians certainly won’t help, at least," Thesaya nodded, looking up at Ian. "Not until you call them."

Ian nodded in response.

Thesaya handed Lucia the breastplate, then plucked the cigarette from Ian’s lips. "Have you decided which side you’ll stand on?"

"Not yet."

"Hmph… I see." She nodded lightly.

With curiosity and excitement in her eyes, she drew in a long breath of smoke, then smiled faintly. "I might get to see the Empire fall. And the Great Church, of course."

Perhaps that was the sight she truly wanted to see. After all, it had been the Round Table Parliament of the Great Church who had sold her out to the demons. True to her kind, she had not forgotten her grudge.

"We’ll have to get Freckles out before that."

"I will when the war starts," Ian replied, settling the breastplate over his chest. "I’ll probably know then."

By the side of the Dark Prince Hyked was his vassal, Seren. Faint though it was, Ian could sense she was still alive.

"Are you all ready, sir?" asked Thesaya.

When Ian looked back, Brennen replied with a slight bow, "As you know, almost all of our luggage was destroyed."

The middle-aged knight, who had been clean and neat not long ago, now looked as if he would fit right in on the frontier. The same was true for Simon, who was sitting half-asleep on the carriage door. Shahin, standing beside him with a look of exasperation, was wiping his face with a cloth.

"This one cannot stand. We will have to leave it behind," said Mukapa from the side. He was checking the horses, paying no mind to the group’s conversation.

Brennen, who had approached, let out a low hum. "Oh dear. It looks like the leg bone’s shattered beyond healing."

The horse that was sitting on the ground was the bay steed that Simon’s group had been riding. Coincidentally, the one that had died was also theirs.

"The rest of the horses are all fine. It is likely thanks to the blessing of the Blazing Goddess," Mukapa added.

Behind him stood only a pony. The other horses huddled tight against the wall, seemingly terrified of Moro. Even the white steeds of the Deep Forest were no exception.

"Let’s hitch three to our carriage and ride the other three," Ian added, as Brennen sadly stroked the neck of the fallen horse. Mukapa nodded and turned to the horses.

"I heard from Eddy that you will be holding a funeral for my squire," Brennen added, standing up.

Fastening his vambraces, Ian nodded. "Until then, we’ll keep the bodies on board."

"Yes, thank you, sincerely."

"You’re welcome. I will put my whole heart into it," Lucia said calmly to Brennen as he bent his knee.

Ian, without stopping his hands, added, "Let’s put the young master and Shahin in the carriage. Help Mukapa. It seems we’re close to arriving."

He couldn't hear them clearly, but the shouts of Sanford and Hashim were reaching his ears.

"Yes," Brennen replied respectfully and turned away.

With Lucia’s help, Ian donned his cloak and looked at Thesaya. "Enough lazing around. It’s time to move."

Thesaya hopped down from Moro’s back, smiling as she slipped a cigarette between Ian’s lips. "All right. I’ll sit quietly in the carriage."

Preparations for departure moved quickly and without delay. Of course, it wasn’t only their group that was quick to act. Once the ship came to a complete stop, the deck soon began to grow noisy.

"Lower the ramp!"

As Sanford’s shout echoed through the hold, Brennen, who had gotten off the carriage and closed the door, looked back at Ian. "By the way, how will you get past this wall? I don’t think we can lift it like we did when we brought it on board."

"That’s what we’re preparing for." Ian, who had been smoking a cigarette with Moro’s reins over his shoulder, nodded his head.

Brennen, holding the reins of his horse, looked to the side. He then blinked.

Standing apart from the others, before the wall itself, Mukapa held his battle hammer at his side like a statue.

"Mukapa?" called Ian.

Mukapa gave a nod, lifted the battle hammer sideways, and twisted his waist. The battle hammer carved a clean arc before driving into the wall.

Boom!

The wall pitched forward and collapsed in a heap. Dust billowed up as the dim light of the brightening deck spilled through.

Not only Brennen, but everyone who had been moving about on the deck stopped and stared in shock. Paying them no mind, Mukapa secured the battle hammer to his back and turned to Ian.

"Let’s go."